Alien Captain's Prisoner Page 6

  Whatever happened to that soldier – it happened inside this ship.

  “Captain Aelon – they attacked us.”

  My heart sinks. I don’t need to be told who ‘they’ are. My crew.

  “When we brought down food and water,” the soldier reports, “four of the prisoners jumped us. One of them had a hidden knife.”

  The wounded Aurelian coughs painfully.

  “It’s my fault, Captain. I didn’t search him well enough.”

  Him.

  The Aurelian can only be referring to Chris.

  Fucking Chris!

  I thought he’d left all the weapons behind – but, instead, he disobeyed my direct order; and now he’s endangered everyone.

  My mind races. The Aurelian reported that four prisoners attacked them. I already know that Theme was the one member of my crew who wouldn’t have joined in the attack – he’s too much of a coward…

  …but cowardice won’t save him on an Aurelian ship. It’s probably despised more than Chris’ treachery

  “I’ll be down shortly to deal with them,” Aelon responds.

  His voice is suddenly flat – emotionless. It’s even more terrifying than before.

  Captain Aelon lowers the watch and then meets my eyes, blinking slowly.

  “Did you order this? Don’t lie to me, Tasha – I can always sniff out a lie.”

  I shake my head – but suspicion doesn’t leave his face as Aelon tries to interpret my motives.

  “I swear, I didn’t order them to attack,” I promise. “It’s a foolish attempt.”

  Aelon snorts – but this time there’s no humor to it, and he doesn’t pair the snort with his typically cocky smirk. His face is a mask.

  “You might be a skilled pilot, Tasha – but you’re a piss poor commander. You need complete obedience from your crew. They need to be trained.”

  My pride is wounded, but I’m too nervous to care. Whatever punishment he’s going to inflict on Chris and the rest of my crew, I can only hope he goes easy on Theme.

  I asked anxiously: “What are you going to do to them?”

  Captain Aelon’s lips curl back in a snarl. That’s when I see the true danger within this man. His triad might have been the ones covered in blood and dirt, but there’s an equally sinister violence lurking in the captain – just below the suave, sophisticated surface.

  “I’ll do to them whatever I must.”

  My blood runs cold. The punishment for mutiny on an Aurelian ship…

  …is death.

  4

  Tasha

  The five men of my crew are handcuffed. There are fresh bruises on their face from their struggle with the Aurelians, and Chris is sporting what I can only assume is a very well-deserved black eye.

  I hope it fucking hurts!

  “Let me go! I’ll gut you, you fucking Aurelian scum!”

  Despite the black eye, Chris is unrepentant. He’s yelling – spewing his words with pure hatred towards the Aurelian soldiers guarding him.

  One of the soldiers calmly turns to Chris, and meets the furious miner’s fiery glare – before giving him a hard backhand.

  Chris flies back against the bulkhead, and one of his teeth pings out of his mouth and bounces across the metal deck. That instantly shuts him up.

  It gives me some small satisfaction to see Chris disciplined – but it also fills me with rage. He’s still part of my crew.

  “Don’t touch them!” I yell out – but I’m completely ignored. Instead, the guard looks up at Captain Aelon for orders.

  Captain Aelon steps forward, in front of Chris and the other members of my crew. Only Sawoot is absent – presumably kept in a part of the brig designated for women.

  Out of the five of them, Theme is the only one who looks contrite. In fact, he looks like he’s about to cry. Only four of my crew tried to rebel, but Theme will be painted by the same brush; and punished accordingly.

  Captain Aeon’s voice is a chilling drawl.

  “You assaulted my crew as they brought you fresh supplies.”

  There’s a sudden hiss as Theme releases his bladder on the floor. I wrinkle my nose at the sharp, ammonia stench of piss. Poor Theme looks down, staring at the puddle spreading between his feet, both scared and humiliated.

  Despite my annoyance with him, I feel an instinctive sense of protectiveness towards Theme. It was the four men of my mining crew who’d orchestrated this attempted break-out – and I know Chris was their ringleader. Poor Theme just got dragged into it.

  Thankfully, Sawoot was absent from all this – because that little spitfire would have been the only one of my crew to present a real threat to the Aurelians. We’re just lucky Aelon’s crew are chauvinistic enough to keep male and female prisoners segregated.

  My mining crew are roughnecks, and they’re not above extending their skills and training beyond drilling and boring. In fact, they’ve turned our mining beams towards the cargo holds of tempting ships more than a few times.

  We don’t do illegal jobs too often – and our bread and butter remains standard mining jobs – but there’s a certain element to my crew that explains their… open-mindedness to lawbreaking.

  Out in the cold of space? Mining attracts a rough crowd. When you’re a crew on a rickety ship like the Wayward Scythe? Rough doesn’t even begin to describe it. Chris and the other three miners knew what they were getting themselves into, and I’m confident they can handle whatever punishment Captain Aelon metes out.

  But Theme? He won’t last.

  Felix, the second in command of my mining crew, is a tough fellow in his mid-thirties. He’s been mining since he was twelve, and has a steady head on his shoulders – steadier than Chris, at least.

  He steps forward – asserting more authority than Chris by doing so – and addresses Captain Aelon.

  “With all due respect – we’re facing forty years in prison. We’re dead men if we stay on this ship. You can’t blame us for trying to escape.”

  Captain Aelon snorts humorlessly.

  “Aye – and any caged beast will try to escape. It’s only nature.” Then his cold, slate-grey eyes narrow. “However, you hurt one of my men. You will be punished.”

  Theme drops to his hands and knees. He doesn’t even notice he’s kneeling in his own piss, he’s so terrified. His face is pale white, like that of a corpse.

  “Please,” he begs. “Please – I didn’t have anything to do with this!”

  The other four miners are glaring at him. They were contemptuous when Theme failed to assault the Aurelians alongside him, and now they’re disgusted by his cowardice.

  So, too, is Captain Aelon.

  “Stand up!”

  Aelon’s voice shudders through the room, resonating with a powerful echo. Theme stands up instantly, seemingly astonished that he can manage to raise himself on his shaking legs.

  Yet Aelon has a voice that cannot be refused. As cocky, arrogant and preening as the Aurelian commander is – there’s no denying his natural aura of command.

  Aelon observes the five men, placing his hands behind his back.

  “I’m an understanding man, if not a sympathetic one. Because I understand your motivations for your foolish actions, I’ll give you the choice. Twenty lashes, or to be thrown out of the airlock.”

  The men gasp. My stomach churns.

  I’d hoped Aelon would be merciful. Far from it.

  Twenty lashes from an Aurelian whip is survivable – if you’re strong, fit, and the man administering the brutal punishment doesn’t make a point of trying to kill you.

  But Theme? Theme won’t last. Twenty lashes will break him. Being blown out of the airlock into the vacuum of space would probably be a mercy to him. You at least die quickly in space – instead of suffering a lingering death by the injuries that lash will leave you wearing.

  But while the punishment is cruel, I know Aelon has no choice. Chris had tried to gut one of his men when he’d showed them mercy. If he’d succeeded, Aelon wou
ld be punishing a murder rather than an escape attempt.

  Chris needs to learn not to make that kind of mistake again, and the hard men of my mining crew need to learn not to follow the orders of such a reckless idiot. They deserve their twenty lashes – and I know they can handle them.

  But they’ve doomed Theme. He’s already shaking like a leaf at the thought.

  The poor guy. He’s barely an inch taller than me, and I’m pretty sure I outweigh him. His problem is more of body than spirit. He’s always been as physically frail as he’s been intellectually gifted – serving deftly as logistics officer and technician aboard my ship, but leaving the physical labor to Chris and his grunts.

  My stomach churns, but I know what I must do.

  My voice cracks as I address Captain Aelon.

  “Captain,” the use of his rank demonstrates my conviction, “by Aurelian law, the captain of a vessel may take the punishment of their crew.” I nod towards Theme. “I will take the lashes, instead.”

  I can’t believe the words that have just left my mouth – but if I hadn’t said them, Theme could die.

  Everyone suddenly turns to me – from my crew to the Aurelian guards. Captain Aelon’s suddenly got fire in his eyes.

  “Don’t insult me, Captain Tasha,” he snorts. “That’s twenty lashes each. No human can survive a hundred lashes.” He snorts. “Not even an Aurelian could weather that.”

  I say nothing – just standing there defiantly.

  Aelon continues:

  “My punishment is fitting. It won’t kill your precious crew.” He glances at Theme. “Well, not all of them. It’ll just make sure they’re never foolish enough to indulge in such behavior again.”

  I swallow hard. It’s painful against my dry throat, but I’m committed to my path.

  “The law is the law, Captain. I will take their lashes.”

  Aelon is unblinking. I stand tall against that piercing grey gaze. I know he won’t back down, and yet neither will I. My crew might have disobeyed my orders and caused this problem – but they’re still my crew, and I’m still responsible for them.

  All of them – even the ones old enough to be my father. Even the ones old enough to know better, like that hothead Chris.

  Aelon looks down at me, and his eyes flash.

  “Aye – the law is the law… But didn’t we have a conversation about this earlier?”

  My mind replays our talk in his bedchamber – when he’d told me: “You assume I follow the law.”

  Aelon repeats that statement now.

  “You assume I follow the law – their law - but this is my ship, and so my word is the law aboard The Instigator.”

  Again, this rose the question of Aelon’s alignment with the Empire. Was he Rogue? Or an independent? Or was he merely refuting my accusation out of pride?

  In any event, this stony-faced Aurelian had shown his hand. He was concerned about me – concerned enough to question what should have been an irrefutable rule of law.

  If he’d question that, what else could I make him question?

  Taking a deep breath, I raise myself to my full height and point an accusing finger at the Captain.

  “Would your law be any different, Captain Aelon? Would you refuse to allow any other commanding officer the right to bear the punishment sentenced to his men? It’s not a question of law, Captain – it’s one of honor.”

  I watch Aelon bristle when his honor is questioned. I’m lucky – half of me was concerned he’d adopt the role of a scoundrel, and scoff at my question of his so-called honor…

  …but, instead, he’s offended to hear it being challenged.

  I double-down – narrowing my eyes to growl: “Do you have honor, Captain Aelon?”

  I’m calling his bluff. It’s tense – but I know he can’t back down. The punishment is due – one of his crewmembers is injured, and someone must be held accountable…

  …but I’m gambling that this flippant, cocky commander isn’t quite cold-hearted enough to make me suffer a hundred lashes – and almost certainly be sent to my grave.

  I know he won’t do it. I’d known ever since I saw the way he’d stared at me back in his bedchamber.

  Captain Aelon wants me.

  Herein lies my only chance to save Theme – and potentially spare my other crewmates a lot of agonizing pain. I’m counting on the fact that Aelon will be torn between the desire to perform his command honorably – by holding us accountable, according to the rule of law – and his protective instincts towards me; assuming that he actually lusts after me, as I suspect.

  But am I prepared for what might happen as a result? I can only hope that my assumptions are correct – that no Aurelian would punish an innocent woman to the point of death, and that Captain Aelon wouldn’t satisfy his lust for me against my will.

  I know he aches for me, though – and while his massive size and dominant nature make me feel vulnerable and defenseless, his lust for my body might be the most powerful weapon I have. Right now, I know it’s my only tool for negotiation.

  As I stand defiantly in front of Aelon, I see my crew staring up at me with new respect. Even Chris, who’s always had a hard time following orders, is now looking at me like an equal.

  I suddenly realize that he won’t ever disobey me again. If I get us out of this mess alive, Chris and the rest of my crew will be loyal to me until the day I die.

  And then Aelon’s voice brings me crashing back to reality.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, Captain Tasha.”

  I gulp. “That’s what being a Captain means. Risk is our business.”

  Aelon’s face instantly transforms. A moment earlier, he’d been radiating harsh anger – enraged by my crew’s betrayal of his hospitality, and my seemingly selfless offer to take their punishment in lieu of the ones actually responsible…

  …and then, like flicking a switch, his face is filled with that signature cocky arrogance. The shift is instantaneous – and the smirk that crawls over his lips is as revolting to me as a scuttling bug.

  I’m not sure what I did wrong – but I suddenly get the feeling that Captain Aelon had retaken the upper hand in this unspoken game of chess we’re playing. I don’t know how, though. I can’t predict this cunning, cocky alien.

  Aelon breathes: “Very well. Then you shall take your punishment.”

  My heart skips a beat. Raw terror suddenly pulses through me.

  I’d anticipated a lot of things – but not this.

  I’d never expected Captain Aelon to be quite so callous. If he’s serious – if he truly will adhere to the rule of law, and allow me to accept the punishment due to all five of my crew…

  …well, I’m a dead woman.

  One hundred lashes will kill me twice. The first thirty would be enough to cause serious damage – scars you’ll wear for a lifetime. I wouldn’t make it to forty, no matter how tough and strong I pretend to be.

  I try to control my breathing. I don’t want the last images my crew have of me to be those of panicked hyperventilation.

  One hundred lashes!

  Suddenly, there’s one more course of action I realize is available to me – and as terrible as it sounds, it sure as hellfire beats the inevitable alternative.

  “I’ll take the air lock,” I demand.

  At least that will be a fast death.

  I just wish I could see Sawoot one last time before I go. I just wish I could tell her to be strong, and that command of the Wayward Scythe – assuming anybody gets it back – is hers.

  Death by airlock.

  I gulp. It’s an ancient punishment – preceding even the invention of airlocks, which maintain the atmosphere or pressure from one environment to the other.

  The term comes from a time before we took to the stars, when captains sailed the open seas of Old-Earth upon massive wooden vessels powered by the wind and sail.

  Back then, a man or woman would be executed by ‘walking the plank’ – forced overboard, into the sea, to
die by exposure… if sharks didn’t get them first.

  You could perhaps last days out there – at best – before you succumbed to thirst, and started drinking the same salt water you drifted in, destroying your insides and only making yourself thirstier and thirstier...

  In comparison, death by air lock is a merciful fate. It’s at least faster to die in the dead of space than the emptiness of an ocean – although it’s gory if you don’t know what to do. Should you ever find yourself expelled from an airlock – and Gods I hope you don’t – you have to breathe out and expel all the oxygen from your lungs the moment you plunge into the vacuum of space.

  If you don’t? That same vacuum literally pulls the air out for you – and not through your mouth. Your lungs expand and rupture like huge, bloody balloons. I don’t even want to think about what that must feel like.

  But my fate will not be so gruesome – because I know enough science to avoid it. If Captain Aelon makes good on his threat and throws me from the airlock, I’ll huff out all the air from my lungs and clamp my eyes and jaw shut – so no liquid is exposed to the ice-inducing coldness of space. Like that, I’ll last fifteen shivering seconds before I pass out.

  Then, lights out. The end.

  “You wish for the airlock.”

  Captain Aelon’s mocking tone snaps me from my thoughts. I open my eyes and find him staring down at me imperiously.

  “You’re so eager to throw yourself away for your worthless crew,” Aelon speaks so slowly it’s as if he’s running his tongue over each syllable before he utters it.

  He knows I’m listening in rapt attention – because each word might be the last I ever hear. I’m completely at his mercy, and by the very laws that I’ve begged him to abide by, I will be executed by my choice.

  Eventually, Aelon growls: “I don’t think so, Tasha. Your crew misbehaved. You are responsible for their disobedience – but not their lives. I think a mere spanking is in order.”

  My jaw drops.

  Chris snickers, and my cheeks turn bright red at the sound of his mirth. That dumb bastard was the reason I’m in this mess, and he has the fucking audacity to laugh about it?