Cold Comfort: Decker's War, #2

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

— ONE —

— TWO —

— THREE —

— FOUR —

— FIVE —

— SIX —

— SEVEN —

— EIGHT —

— NINE —

— TEN —

— ELEVEN —

— TWELVE —

— THIRTEEN —

— FOURTEEN —

— FIFTEEN —

— SIXTEEN —

— SEVENTEEN —

— EIGHTEEN —

— NINETEEN —

— TWENTY —

— TWENTY-ONE —

— TWENTY-TWO —

— TWENTY-THREE —

— TWENTY-FOUR —

— TWENTY-FIVE —

— TWENTY-SIX —

— TWENTY-SEVEN —

— TWENTY-EIGHT —

— TWENTY-NINE —

— THIRTY —

— THIRTY-ONE —

About the Author

Also by Eric Thomson

— ONE —

Bastards are learning how to aim.  That was the last of the counter-measures.  Frustrated beyond words, he slammed a calloused fist against his console and swore at the empty launcher, at their pursuers, and at the universe in general.

The small freighter shuddered as its failing shields barely blunted yet another anti-ship missile.  Alarm sirens blared, warning them of impending system failures all over the ship while the damage control AI fought to stay ahead of the cascade.

We’re not going to make it, are we?  Her sad eyes nearly broke his heart.

He tried to put on a confident smile, but she wasn’t fooled.

Where there’s life, there’s hope, love.  Those damned assholes don’t have us yet.

She smiled weakly at his heartfelt use of profanity, fingertips reaching out to touch his cheek with such tenderness that he felt tears welling up.

They’d been waylaid by a pair of pirate sloops on the edge of an unremarkable and mostly uninhabited system in that gray area where neither the Commonwealth Navy nor the bad guys held ultimate sway.  Arranging an attack like that, on a fast and nimble trader, was too much work for too little profit, which meant it wasn’t a random piece of interstellar bad luck.  Zack Decker’s past had finally caught up with him.

Even though he’d killed the head of the wealthy Amali family, a thoroughly corrupt man who’d been trying to build his own cyborg or more precisely cybug army, there were still plenty of people who wanted his head.

Walker Amali had also been the de facto leader of the Coalition that sought to bring the Outworlds and colonies back under the sway of the dominant central systems.  The other members of that conspiracy remained powerful and, more importantly, still had a long reach.  It had taken them a year to track down Demetria, as his ship was known, and now it was payback time.

Shit.  Decker roared in frustration as another warning light turned red.  The aft turret’s done for.

And the keel turret isn’t doing much better.

He slumped back, staring at the tactical schematic.  As a former master gunner and sometimes ship weapons specialist, he could read the situation all too well, and it showed him that there was no way out.  At least he’d had a year of happiness after turning down the chance to be reinstated in his beloved Marine Corps.  Perhaps he should have taken the offer and spared her what was about to come, but it was much too late for regrets.

Listen, he locked eyes with the woman who’d become his entire life, they want me.  Those assholes back there are working for the Coalition, if not the Amalis directly.  It’s too much of a coincidence to be anything else.  We won’t hold on much longer, so I’m going to surrender myself to them.  With any luck, they might agree that not having to expend any more ordnance is worth giving you a way out.  I’ll climb into the rescue pod and let them pick me up.

No.

It’s your only chance.

No.  Her voice rose to a shout.  I’ll not buy my escape with your life, Zack.  I love you too much for that.

He sighed.  The reaction wasn’t unexpected.  She might have been scared, but there was a granite core beneath that soft exterior.

And anyways, she continued, they won’t let me go, no matter what.  Pirates never leave witnesses behind, so it’s beside the point.  We’ll fight it out.  Maybe there’s a frigate near enough that heard our distress signal and all we have to do is hold on a little longer.

Decker shook his head, feeling despair set in.  The Navy wouldn’t be sailing to the rescue, not this time.  If the Coalition was behind the attack, they’d have made sure to specify an area where no naval patrol was scheduled for some time.  Even the Fleet’s operational secrets weren’t safe from them.

He stabbed an angry finger at the communications console.

Pirate vessels, this is Zack Decker.  I know that it’s me you want, and I’m prepared to save you some expensive missiles.  If you let my ship go, I’ll surrender.

Zack, no!  The plaintive note in her voice was almost more than he could bear.

She needn’t have worried: the only reply was another volley that finally overwhelmed the shields.  A powerful energy surge coursed through the hull, tripping safeties and triggering more warning sirens.  The light in the cockpit flickered and then went out as the AI redirected the remaining power to critical systems.

Moments later, the marauders’ main guns opened fire and plasma arced through the void.  The glowing rounds struck both nacelles hard, and the ship shuddered as they were torn off and sent spinning away.

We’ve lost the hyperdrives.

That means they’re going to board us, Decker snarled through clenched teeth as he desperately fired back with his pitifully few remaining guns.  If they just wanted us dead, they’d have targeted the main reactor.

The freighter shook again as more plasma struck, this time destroying the sublight drive nozzles.  One of the rounds ate through the metal far enough to activate the fusion reactor’s fail-safe, designed to prevent a catastrophic explosion.  With the main power cut, most of the cockpit control panels went dark.

We’re on battery power only.  Though her voice quivered with fear, she still managed to work through the damage control problems like the seasoned starship captain she was.  An unaccountably strange mixture of pride and tenderness turned his guts to water.

They’ll be launching a shuttle any moment now.  He struggled to push the emotions aside and concentrate on survival.  It’s a good bet they’ll latch on to the main airlock rather than try to cut through the hull.  We’ll ambush them there and then fall back towards the hold.  Maybe if we make it too expensive, they’ll back off.

Even as he spoke, they both knew that the pirates would never back off.  Not after they’d stalked them for days, waiting for the moment Demetria had to drop out of FTL and recalibrate her drives for the next jump.  If they were under contract to the Coalition, they had to produce results or face their own deaths at the hands of professional killers, like those employed by the secretive and deadly Sécurité Spéciale.  It was as powerful a motivator as any for the degenerate beings that crew those ships.

Decker stood up and worked his tense shoulders.

Come on.  There’s nothing more we can do here.  The AI can handle what little is left.

He jogged aft, down the passageway to the small armory and pulled out a pair of scatterguns.  Though they both carried plasma pistols already, in Zack’s case his beloved Imperial Armaments fifteen-millimetre blaster, taken off a Shrehari raider years before, dealing with the boarding party would require something more substantial.

Here.  Decker held out one of the stubby, shotgun-like weapons and a box of ammunition.  She took it and worked the action, making sure it was ready to fire.  He slung the other one over his shoulder and then took a pair of plasma rifles off their racks, along with power packs and ammunition clips.

We’ll use the scatter guns when they step out of the airlock.  It’s too tight for plasma down there.  The rifles will come in handy when we draw them into the hold, where there’s more space to fight.

A loud thud reverberated through the hull.

They’ve latched on.  It’ll take them a few minutes to work their way through the hatch.

He wished he had some armor on hand, but they’d never gotten around to buying any, an oversight that might shorten what was already likely to be a short fight.

Once settled into position near the airlock, they could hear the pirates working their way through the latching mechanism.  Decker had a brief moment of terror when it occurred to him that they might not have sealed their shuttle to the ship.  It would mean catastrophic depressurization the instant they defeated the locks, and there was no time left to put on pressure suits.  But, he quickly reasoned, there was no point in boarding the ship if they intended to kill them right away.  Another brace of missiles would have done a thorough enough job.

The noise suddenly changed from a frenzied scraping to a more deliberate staccato.

They’re through, he whispered.  Get ready - it won’t take them long to breach the inner hatch.

In the reddish glow of the emergency lights, the corridor looked like an antechamber of hell and Decker was determined to make it so for the pirates.

With a painful screech, the final barrier gave way.  Several beams of bright, white light cut through the gloom, propelled forward by large, dark, humanoid figures.  Demetria wasn’t a big ship, and only four of the intruders could fit in the passageway at once.  It would have to suffice for the first volley.

Now!

The confined space erupted in a frenzy of shots as they pumped round after round at the pirates, the force of the impacts making them stagger as they fought to get their bearings and return fire.

Buggers are armored, Decker shouted.  Aim for the faceplates.

It quickly became apparent that they weren’t expecting this much resistance and when one of them collapsed to the deck with a shattered visor, his face shredded, the other three took a few steps back into the airlock compartment.

They’re running.  Hope, for the first time since the pirate ships descended on them, filled her voice.

No.  He grabbed her arm as he rose and pulled her back around the corner with such force that she almost bounced off the bulkhead.  They’re about to toss something nasty at us.

How do you know?

His hard grin was almost demonic in the low light.

I’ve done it often enough when I was boarding pirate ships during my time in the Corps.

A metallic thunk confirmed Zack’s guess.

Close your eyes and cover your ears.

The high-pitched whine of a flash-bang spooling up pierced through their skulls, then a light brighter than the sun washed out everything while the sound of an exploding fusion bomb resonated through the ship.

Fighting the pain and disorientation, Decker peered around the corner, just in time to see the pirates creeping through the hatch again, their lights aimed in his direction.  He fired off three rounds in rapid succession, but the storm of ball bearings and tiny tungsten darts did nothing more than annoy the boarders.  It would have to be plasma now, and that meant falling back until they had enough room to use the longer rifles.

He grabbed her by the arm again and pulled her aft towards the cargo hold.  There was no point in speaking.  Their ears still rang from the grenade’s violent explosion.

Demetria was running half-empty, and there was ample room to move about between the neatly stacked containers.  They took cover as far from the entrance as possible and dropped the useless scatter guns in favor of their rifles, waiting for the pirates to appear.

Zack put his lips against her ear, inhaling the clean scent of her soft blonde hair.  Another pang of despair wrenched at his guts.

Let them all in before shooting.  I’ll take the first, you the second.  After that, it’s potluck.

She nodded, her face showing determination mixed with sheer terror.  It was all about to end.  If only he’d taken up the offer to rejoin the Corps…

The first pirate cautiously entered the hold, rifle held high, ready to sweep them away.  His helmeted head swiveled left and right as he sought them out among the cargo.  A second one followed, then a third.

Fire, Decker shouted.

Where their armor had held off the scatterguns’ payload, it wasn’t quite as capable of absorbing plasma hits, and the lead boarder fell, his chest stitched with several smoking holes.  To their credit, the other two quickly returned fire, joined by a further pirate who’d remained in the corridor until now.

Cargo containers weren’t meant to act as protection against concentrated plasma and the pirates’ volleys quickly ate through the thin metal, sending clouds of vaporized aromatic oils into the air.  Decker, seeing an unexpected opportunity, decided to take advantage of the improvised smoke screen and shifted his position to the right, to take them in the flank.

A sudden scream of pain brought him to a halt.  He turned back to see her slump to the deck, bleeding profusely through an open hole in the abdomen.  The pirates’ plasma had punched through the container at last.  Long years of experience had taught him a wound like that, without immediate medical treatment, was invariably fatal.

Rage surged through him, blind, berserker rage, pushing aside all rational thought and he stood to charge at the pirates, firing from the hip as fast as his finger could stroke the trigger, feeding copper disc after copper disc into the ignition chamber.  Plasma splashed everywhere, and he was faintly conscious of another intruder falling down amid howls of agony.

He didn’t realize that they had stopped shooting until the first rifle butt caught him on the side of the head.  It was followed by a second one to the kidneys and then a third to the knees, the pirates battering him down to the deck with unrestrained savagery.  He was quickly trampled into unconsciousness by armored feet, but they didn’t stop until their leader, a brutal man wanted by the law on two dozen worlds, remembered his captain’s orders, and put an end to it.

— TWO —

Pain.  Deep, nasty, bone-breaking pain.

It was as if the universe had decided to disassemble Zack Decker atom by atom and reassemble him randomly and without order.

He opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t.  The hot needles of light that pierced his cornea and seared his retina triggered a spasm of nausea that threatened to further throw his reconstituted body out of alignment.  Though his stomach contracted and heaved, nothing but a thin trickle of bile escaped his bruised and cut lips.  He screwed his eyelids shut again and waited until the convulsive shaking had passed.

As consciousness returned, he stretched out his thick, muscular body and forced his throbbing brain to take stock of the situation.  First item: his wrists were manacled, which made him a prisoner.  Second item: considering the pain he felt even though he was still in one piece, he’d been worked over by real artists.  Third item: he had no idea where he was, except that he was on a starship traveling FTL if the subliminal vibrations were anything to go by.  Fourth and final item: he was screwed.

A fresh wave of pain racked his body, but this time from sheer horror and anguish as his memory fully returned.

Zack slowly opened his eyes again, feeling tears flow freely as his mind’s eye offered up the image of the pirates cutting through their airlock and boarding the ship, heedless of the damage they caused.  He flinched at the recollection of her dying scream and a new wave of emotion overcame him, throwing his abused body through another cycle of pain and nausea.

Then the hatred came, sheer, raw and unadulterated hatred, drowning out the grief and the physical torment, threatening to overwhelm what few reserves he had left.

His eyes gradually got used to the harsh illumination, and he saw that he was lying on a bare metal floor, in an empty metal compartment only slightly bigger than a closet.  He gently turned his head to either side, grimacing at the artillery barrage in his skull, and decided it would be foolish to try to sit up.  They had tied his hands in front of him rather than in the small of his back, and he raised them to the tune of screaming muscles so that they were in line with his eyes.

His knuckles were bloody and swollen, and a few fingers felt like they’d been broken, courtesy of the sustained beating inflicted on him after he passed out.  He was alive, although between the physical pain and the anguish at her death, he almost wished he wasn’t.  The fact that they’d taken him and were even now transporting him to an unknown destination meant his enemies had a worse fate in mind than mere death.

An uncomfortable sensation suddenly radiated through his lower abdomen and Zack cursed in a hoarse whisper.  He needed either to stand up now and find a toilet or piss himself where he lay.  With a force of will that surprised him in his current state, Decker rolled over and pulled his knees under his stomach, then levered his back upright.  He paused for a few moments to let a wave of dizziness pass.  Thankfully, the renewed bout of nausea stopped short of a further heave and he was able to haul himself up against the bulkhead.

He barely managed to stumble to the waste disposal funnel and open his pants before his bladder let go.  Urinating had never felt so painful and looked so bloody.  Even if they had meant to take him alive, his captors obviously hadn’t shown much concern for internal injuries.  Hopefully, he had nothing that would require a medic.  He doubted there was one on board, and he really didn’t want to risk a reiver’s autodoc.  On the other hand, if he was indeed taken at the orders of the Amalis or the Coalition, he was dead already.

Sitting unsteadily on the narrow steel bench that passed for a cot, he struggled to bring his breathing under control.  Around him, the ship hummed patiently as it ate up the light-years and for all Zack knew, he could have been the only living soul on board, destined to fly across the galaxy until he encountered a gravity wave strong enough to collapse the FTL bubble and bring him back to normal space.

The hum had an underlying note of discordance, hinting at skipped maintenance and worn-out components, at poorly tuned reactors and general neglect.  Exactly what he expected of a reiver, which meant he wasn’t headed for the Commonwealth to be delivered to his enemies for an exquisite torture session crowned by a gory execution.

No.  Whoever had put out a contract on his head had other ideas in mind, ideas that didn’t involve anyone in the Coalition dirtying their hands.  They knew naval intelligence had been keeping an eye on him after he’d led the raid that destroyed the bug factory.  Although he’d refused the offer to rejoin the Corps, preferring to make his life with the one woman who’d genuinely cared for him, he had agreed to pass on anything interesting, thereby joining the loose group of veterans and inactive reservists who still kept one toe in the Fleet.

When the door opened with a tired squeal, he looked up right into the mouth of a large-bore blaster.  A human face, female by all appearances and of indeterminate age beneath close-cropped hair, stared at him over the length of the barrel.  Hard, black eyes set deeply in a seamed face turned almost leathery by decades of exposure to deep space radiation, examined him mercilessly.  She could likely have passed for any number of humanoid aliens whose reptilian ancestry left them with a rough hide, but she was indisputably of his own species.

Put your hands behind your head, she ordered in a gravelly voice, and drop to your knees.  Try anything else and I’ll wing you.  Painfully.  My contract is to deliver you alive and functional.  No one said anything about leaving you pretty, although nature already took care of most of that.

Wincing, Zack obeyed her without speaking a word.  She didn’t look like the chatty type, and she wasn’t appealing enough for him to try the patented Decker charm.  In fact, if it wasn’t for the evidence of breasts and the absence of an adam’s apple, the matter of her gender might have been in dispute.

We were warned about you and after what you did to my men, I’ll not be taking any chances.  She wrinkled her pug nose in disgust.  You managed to stink up this place real quick.

Getting the shit kicked out of you often does that, he replied, eyes locked with hers in a contest of wills.  I hope those assholes I damaged smell worse than I do, preferably like they were decomposing.

Maybe I should let their buddies in here so you can check up on them real close, she cackled.  They're kind of mad at you, but like I said, I have to deliver you alive and functional, so I can’t let my boys indulge themselves.

You come here to ogle me, or you have something intelligent to say?  Decker tried to sneer, though he suspected the expression was indistinguishable on his battered face.

Feisty, aren’t you?  Too bad I can’t keep pets.  I might enjoy your company in my quarters after you get cleaned up and suitably disciplined.

Wouldn’t work out.  I only fuck women.  His attempted sneer turned into a nasty grin.

Joke all you want, Decker.  Where you’re going, the laughs are going to be pretty scarce.

And where’s that?

Why should I spoil the surprise?  You’ll find out soon enough.  She smirked back at him, and it turned her face into something from a child’s nightmare.  I’m to give you a message:  Harmon Amali sends his best and hopes you live long enough to suffer an eternity’s worth of torment for what you did.

Fancy bugger, she commented when Zack didn’t reply.  An eternity’s worth of torment.  I’ll try and use that in casual conversation someday.

What happened to my ship and my wife?  He asked even though he didn’t want to hear the answer.

The reiver shrugged.

Contract said we were to take you and make sure the wreck will never be found.  I didn’t want to waste ammo on a ship with no engines, no power, and no radio, so she’s just a piece of drifting junk now, lost in interstellar space.  As for your woman, the boys reported she was bleeding out on the deck, gut shot.  She’s probably dead by now, but who knows.  Maybe she’ll hang on for a while, wondering where you’ve gone to.

The pirate cackled again.

Decker felt a surge of fury overtake him.  He had no doubt he’d be able to launch himself at her from his kneeling position before she had the time to adjust her aim and pull the trigger.  But then what?  He forced himself to remain still, but his eyes betrayed his inner fire.

Don’t, she said, shaking her head.  Even if you’re quick enough to take me, my man in the passageway will end any funny business.  Since the contract didn’t define functional, I figure my crew might decide to geld you if something happened to me.

Got it.  Decker nodded.  He had no problems believing they’d carry out the threat and wasn’t about to risk castration for what would be an empty gesture.

Good.  She tilted her head to a side, like an ugly little bird.  Now listen up, big boy.  We have to feed you and let you clean yourself up, so here’s how it’ll go.  I’m going to remove the handcuffs while you stay right like you are.  Then, I’ll let you get up and walk you to the showers down the passageway, and you’re going to get clean while we hose down your cell.  Do anything other than obey orders and you’ll spend some quality time as a punching bag.  If you’re a good lad, you’ll get some food.

Got it, Zack repeated.  His eyes promised violence, but not in the near future, and she seemed satisfied with that.  What am I supposed to call you?

You can call me captain, or boss.  My name isn’t something that’ll be of much use to you.  I’m going to remove the cuffs now, so stay nice and quiet.

She handed her weapon to the Kardati tribesman who had appeared behind her and entered the cell.  The gray, leathery-skinned humanoid kept the blaster aimed steadily at Zack’s gut.  He’d been in the boarding party, and his hateful stare promised further artistry with a club if he so much as moved a muscle without permission.

Okay, Decker, she said after removing the manacles, and tossing them at the Kardati, who snatched them out of the air with his clawed left hand, stand up, but keep your hands on the back of your head.

When he’d obeyed, her rough shove propelled him past the tribesman and into the corridor.  He might have been weak from his beating, but she still had a strong arm for someone that wiry.

Get in, she pointed at an open door, strip and drop your crap on the floor.  Wash.  Then put on the clothes you’ll find on the bench.  You can keep your boots.  Everything else gets tossed into the disposal.

Decker briefly glanced down at himself.  He’d been wearing his usual shipboard outfit when they were attacked, and it was now thoroughly soaked in blood, sweat, and vomit.  There was no point in keeping anything.

Ten minutes later, he was standing in the corridor again, this time, dressed in what he’d decided was reiver casual: worn black coveralls that stretched over his solid frame like a second skin, the pant legs tucked into his calf-length boots.  The captain gave him an appreciative once over, and Decker couldn’t resist a wink and a smile, but she responded with a scowl and pointed back at his cell.

There’s a ration pack waiting for you.  If you keep quiet and clean, you’ll get one every eight standard hours.

Any chance of getting something to read?

Cute, she replied with a snort.  Half of my boys can’t read Anglic to save their lives and the other half prefer to watch holoporn.  What in the galaxy makes you think I have any reading material on board?

Doesn’t hurt to ask.  He shrugged and shuffled off to where the Kardati was waiting with the blaster.

Be happy that I don’t let my crew use you for entertainment.  The last time we had prisoners, they kept us amused for days before they died.

— THREE —

A screeching siren blared three times, pulling Zack from his endless contemplation of the universe’s unfairness.  It beat re-playing the final moments aboard Demetria over and over again.  The searing pain he felt whenever his mind’s eye saw his wife was almost enough to drive him over the bounds of sanity.  Only his need for vengeance kept him grounded in an increasingly bleak reality.

The one redeeming feature of his descent into a private hell was to find the food on offer wasn’t the nasty, if nourishing Fleet-issue ration bar, but commercial grade packs containing edible, if not exactly varied meals.  There had been enough times in the past when ratbars were all he had, and he thanked the sarcastic gods watching over him that this trip to whatever hell Harmon Amali had consigned him wasn’t as rotten as the last journey to a purported doom.  On the other hand, that hadn’t worked out so well for the man’s predecessor.

Along with food, they’d given him a bedroll to provide some comfort on the cold metal.  The cot, welded to the bulkhead, was too narrow for his wide body and he’d elected to sleep on the floor.  For some reason, this seemed to amuse the Kardati, who was his chief watchdog.

He still ached all over but had stopped pissing blood, to his great relief, which probably meant he had no major internal injuries.  The few times he caught sight of his face however, he had to laugh at the purplish, yellow, and green mottling from the fading bruises.  They made him look more like an Itrulan than a human.  All he needed was a forked tongue and eyes with a long, vertical pupil.

Zack stretched out on the bedroll and relaxed.  Ten seconds after the last screech, he felt the disorienting nausea of emergence from hyperspace.  Had they arrived at their destination or were they simply tacking?  In the time since his capture, they could have covered many parsecs, but if they were going well and deep into the Coalsack, where human law and order hadn’t the glimmer of a chance to rescue him, this might just be a waypoint check.

Nothing happened for the next two hours, and he went back to his bleak contemplation of life’s unfairness.  Then, without warning, the door to his cell opened, and the Kardati poked his head in.

You come now, he growled, his words barely understandable, as he pointed a blaster at Zack’s midriff.  Decker shrugged, got up, and stepped past him into the corridor.

What’s up, leather-face?

You are leaving now.  A rumble escaped from deep within his chest.  Decker had learned to identify the sound as the alien’s version of laughter and concluded that the unexpected amusement didn’t bode well.  He was about to ask another question when the Kardati poked him roughly in the back with his weapon.

Go.

When he got to the portside airlock, the ship’s bosun was waiting for him with a being that looked even more villainous than the reiver’s crew did.

He is as described, the newcomer said after examining Zack intently.  I trust he’s fully functional.

If you’re asking whether we gelded him, no we didn’t, the bosun replied with an evil chuckle.  Mister Decker here was wise enough to cooperate.

Most excellent.  The man handed a case to the reiver.  The agreed upon price.

After checking the contents, he nodded and passed the case to the Kardati.

Put the cuffs on him.

When Zack was manacled, hands in front, the bosun said, He’s all yours, but before he goes, I’d like to say farewell.

Without warning, a fist lashed out and caught Zack just below the sternum, sending a blast of pain through his chest and abdomen.

That’s for the men you killed, you ugly sonofabitch.  I hope your girlfriend died in agony.

Decker bent over with the force of the punch, gathered his fury and, hands joined in a double fist, straightened up as fast and hard as he could manage.  He struck the bosun under the jaw with the force of a pile driver and had the satisfaction of hearing his teeth shatter before the man screamed out in pain.

Zack looked at the newcomer.

Time to go, before they change their minds and cut my balls off.

The man stared at him for a few heartbeats, as if wondering about the wisdom of his purchase.

Follow me, he finally said.

Under the bemused stare of the Kardati, who seemed to be paralyzed by Zack’s sudden outburst of violence, they scuttled through the airlock and into a waiting shuttle.  Another one of the newcomer’s species sat at the controls and quickly shut the hatch before undocking.  Zack expected the radio to come alive with outraged messages from the reiver but they sped away in silence towards a blocky ship of a type he’d never seen before.  The markings on its flared nacelles resembled nothing so much as runes and were indecipherable to his human eyes.

When he looked back at the being who’d fetched him, he saw curious black eyes staring out from under thick eyebrow ridges, and what was unmistakably a weapon aimed at his chest.

You’ll want to cooperate fully with me, he said in a guttural, heavily accented Anglic.  You may be able to pull one over those oafs, but in my business, we’re used to dealing with all sorts of disobedient merchandise.

Decker snorted.

Sure you are.  Does that mean you’re running a circus?

No, my friend.  We’re running a slave brokerage.

His smile was so predatory Zack wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d suddenly sprouted fur and claws.

"We know how to keep our products in good condition for the auction block, so a shot from this pistol will not kill you but you won’t want another dose for as long as you live.  Imagine the worst nausea you’ve ever had, and then multiply