Galactic Odyssey Ch. 03

Welcome back! This chapter is mostly plot with some bondage and a bit of violence. There's going to be some sex scenes in the next chapter, I promise :)

*

I was shocked by what I saw. There was a woman lying in the crate, wearing tight pants and a torn blouse that looked like it had once been expensive. She was hogtied on her stomach, cable ties connecting her wrists to her ankles. I didn't see her face because of the tightly fitting hood that covered her entire head, down to her neck, leaving only a few locks of hazel brown hair visible.

It was an Alderian slave hood from the looks of it and from my own brief experience, I knew that these things were nasty, providing full sensory deprivation at the press of a button. Vision, hearing, speech, and breathing could be regulated, rendering the wearer completely helpless, even if no other restraints were applied.

Some years ago, I had travelled on slave transports under really deplorable circumstances, but this was extreme, even by my standards. Clearly, she had spent some time in that crate, with no access to a bathroom, which explained the disgusting smell.

I pointed the scanner at her and it picked up some unknown piece of technology in her oral cavity, but despite multiple attempts, I didn't get a reading from a control chip. Fucking hell, I thought. This is a free woman, not a slave, and she sure isn't here voluntarily. My stomach churned and I already pictured myself in yet another cell, this time for kidnapping and whatever else had happened to that woman.

Morg was right, I thought, I should have listened to him. In my naivety I had assumed that a job that paid this badly had to be an honest one. Some serious soul-searching was in order to figure out why I always ended up in messes like this.

I pulled the switchblade from my right boot and cut the tie connecting wrists to ankles, giving her a bit more freedom of movement. In panic, she turned herself on her back and retreated to a corner of the crate, pulling her knees up to protect herself.

I reached for my comlink. "Get your ass to cargo hold three. Now!"

*

He arrived a few minutes later, beer in hand and apparently not in a hurry, which infuriated me even more.

"What the hell is this?" I asked, pointing at the woman.

"None of your business," he said, moving to close the crate. "You were hired as a pilot, so get your ass back on the bridge and do whatever you pilots do."

Like always when I was confronted with epic levels of stupidity, I needed a moment to gather my thoughts. Where to even begin?

"None of my business?!" I shouted, "It's my business now, idiot, you dragged me into it! First of all, you make me an accessory to a kidnapping and then you don't check for a fucking tracker. That's why these mercs keep finding us. I don't give a fuck if they kill you, but now my skin's on the line, too!"

He just stood here with a stupid look on his face, which admittedly didn't make a big difference to his normal facial expression..

"She's wearing a tracker?"

"Yes. It transmits her position twice a day via hyperspace radio. That's some really expensive hardware, the smallest hyperspace tracker I've ever seen."

"Can you remove it?" he asked.

"It's hidden in a tooth and I'm not a fucking dentist. Get me some tools from engineering and I'll disable it. But that's not the point! Who is this woman and why is she in that fucking crate?"

"She kind of fell into my lap. It doesn't matter who she is, she's cargo and you've been paid to fly the fucking ship. Don't worry your pretty little head and do your job."

I had been paid to fly a ship carrying engine parts, "all perfectly legal," but I could tell this discussion was going nowhere. Stanley wouldn't tell me who she was, the girl couldn't because she was silenced by her slave hood, and I couldn't remove the hood without the code. Most likely, she was the daughter of some rich merchant or government official, who wouldn't be amused that his little princess was treated like that. This could lead to some serious bounty on my head.

"Listen, Stanley. Whoever she is, you can't keep her like this. She's a free woman, there are rules."

Stanley took a sip from his beer and scratched his balls, not in the least bit impressed.

"It's not like I can put her in some cabin. The doors have manual overrides, I can't babysit her all day."

"Come on, this is a Rigelian freighter, there must be a slave kennel on the lower decks. Put her there at least, until we figure out what to do."

He gave me a puzzled look. "There's a slave kennel? Really?"

I couldn't believe it.

"Is this even your ship?! Don't tell me I'm flying a stolen ship!"

He ignored my question. "You can move her, but we keep that bitch tied up. She kicked me in the nuts even with the hood on."

"Good for her! And now take that thing off."

"Forget it, the hood stays on."

I sighed. "Then at least enable her hearing. She'll freak out if we move her and she doesn't know what's happening."

Very reluctantly, he typed something on his comlink and the color code on the hood indicated that the woman was now able to hear us.

"Please stay calm," I said. "We're going to move you to proper quarters and clean you up. We won't hurt you, I promise."

She was shaking like a leaf, clearly not trusting a word I said, and I couldn't really blame her. But in any case, the prospect of getting out of the box was enough to convince her to let us move her. We put her on an antigrav cart, careful not to touch her soiled clothes.

"Alright," I said to Stanley. "I got this, you've done enough damage. Go back to the bridge and initiate an emergency jump in case they find us again."

He just stood there and looked at me like a Lissandrian cow.

I growled in frustration. "Look a the fucking nav console. I prepared a jump solution and the drive is fired up. All you need to do is press the button, not even you could screw that up."

Of course, I could easily trigger the jump from my comlink, but I needed him out of the way. Otherwise, the way things were going, my crowbar and his skull would very soon make contact.

*

On the way to the kennel, I picked up gloves and some antiseptic lotion from sickbay and stopped at the engine room to roast the transmitter located in one of her molars. Fortunately, it was a completely pain-free operation that she didn't even notice.

Fifteen minutes later, I pushed the cart out of the elevator on the lower deck and had a quick look around. There were no signs on the bulkheads, so I had to open a few of them until I found what I was looking for: the ship's slave quarters.

Inside, I was surprised by what I saw. As far as slave accommodations went, this was pretty unusual. There were no cages, just half a dozen cells with steel bars at the front and a communal shower outside. Inside each cell, there was a two-person bunk bed, a normal toilet and a sink. For a slave, this was luxury accomodations - I had never had anything this nice when I served my time.

"Okay, we're here," I said. "You're in a shower, so we can clean you up. I'm gonna untie you now and then I need you to take off your clothes. Can you do that?"

She nodded.

Using my knife, I cut off the cable ties, freeing her wrists and ankles, but after being tied up for so long, she couldn't stand and her arms were too weak to undress herself. I had to help her out of her filthy clothes.

I had noticed earlier that she had unusually large breasts and now I could see why they were standing out the way they did. The reason wasn't a bra in the traditional sense - she wore wide steel bands around the base of her breasts, making them bulge outward. Additionally, her nipples were pierced with large-gauge rings, about five centimeters across, which had no visible seam or locking mechanism. What a kinky girl, I thought.

After a bit of coaxing, I got her out of her pants. The smell was putrid and I was really glad that I had brought gloves. Unable to stand on her own, I let her lie there and turned on the water to wash off the filth.

When I had her cleaned and disinfected, I examined her shaved genital area. Like I suspected, the skin was red and she winced at every touch.

"That's a nasty rash you got there," I said. "I'll put some antiseptic lotion on it, it'll stop hurting very soon."

*

After the shower, I helped her up and walked her over to one of the cells. I was able to unlock the door through my comlink.

"You're in a cell now. There's a bunk bed to your left," I said and put her hand on the steel frame. "Be careful, don't hit your head on the top bunk. And there's a toilet in the corner to your right."

She pointed at her face, making hand gestures.

"I know you want the hood removed, but I don't have the code. I'll see what I can do."

*

Back on the bridge, Stanley was already on to his next beer.

"I need the code to get her hood off," I said when I took my seat at the nav console. "We can't keep her like this."

"Forget it. She can't see our faces."

"Buddy, these mercs know our ship and our route. They sure as hell have high-res surveillance video featuring you and me going on board in Zesta."

He thought for a minute.

"No. I don't like that bitch, she stays gagged."

After going back and forth a few times, I decided to make a stand. I reversed thrust to stop the ship, and then I shut down both the engine and the hyperspace drive.

"You're going to give me the code," I said, "or we're going nowhere."

"Hey! Are you crazy? Turn the goddamn engines back on!"

When I didn't react, he pulled out his ridiculous little blaster and pointed it at my head, which didn't impress me much.

"Stanley, my friend, do you think you're the first one pointing a gun at me? I'm not doing anything."

"You fucking bitch," he shouted and delivered a powerful backhand slap to my face that knocked me out of my seat.

Being no stranger to violence, it took a lot more than this to intimidate me. I wiped the blood from my lip and sat back down on the navigator's chair, crossing my arms in front of me. He didn't have much leverage and he knew it. Not even Stanley was stupid enough to kill the only pilot on a ship that was chased by a bunch of mercenaries.

"The code," I said calmly. "If the mercs spot us drifting with our engines off, we're dead. And if you raise your hand against me one more time, you will regret it."

I leaned back at the console, arms crossed, while he walked up and down the bridge, shouting obscenities. Why in seven hells did he make such a big deal out of it? The woman was safely locked behind bars, there was no chance that she would escape.

Finally, after a few minutes of temper tantrums, he relented.

"Fine. But you're responsible for her."

Whatever. With the code transferred and my comlink paired to the hood, I was finally able to give her some relief. The application was easy to use even without any prior experience and within seconds, I had restored her vision, hearing, and the ability to talk.

She hadn't eaten in a while, so I went to the galley and prepared an insta-meal - cooking was out of the question, given the sorry state of the kitchen. The meal was some unidentifiable meat with potatoes and a few vegetables that didn't look familiar, but after days without food, I guessed she wouldn't care. I put the meal, a cup with some juice, and a chocolate bar on a tray and took the elevator down to the slave quarters.

*

"Hey, I brought you something to eat," I said when I entered the kennel.

At that point, I realized that the cell door didn't have a meal slot - I would have to open the door to get the tray to her. The girl was standing at the far side of her cell, with her back to the wall, so I reached for my comlink and opened the door.

"Don't be scared. It's just food, I won't hurt you."

It turned out that I had been right - she really didn't care about the vegetables. Instead, she lunged at me with surprising speed for someone who hadn't been able to walk half an hour earlier. Instinctively, I pulled up the tray, trying to protect myself, and ended up spilling the juice over my uniform. A moment later, we were wrestling on the floor.

Usually, I didn't engage in fights - a person of my weight class was better off avoiding physical confrontation - but thanks to my training from back in the navy, I was able to gain the upper hand and soon I had her in a chokehold.

"Stop fighting, you cannot win!"

Desperately, she hit me with her elbows and fists, but there was no way she would be getting out of this. I continued to hold her, hoping she would give up.

Unfortunately, she wasn't quite done yet.

During the fight she must have noticed my switchblade and with me on the floor behind her, legs wrapped around her waist, she was able to reach it. In one swift motion, she pulled out the knife, extended the blade and took a stab behind her, gracing my thigh.

I cursed and doubled over, immediately releasing her from the chokehold.

Apparently, she was as shocked as I was. She dropped the knife and retreated to the far corner of the cell.

After taking a couple of deep breaths, I picked up the knife, cursing myself for my own stupidity. Bringing a weapon into a cell with an unrestrained prisoner - definitely not my brightest hour. I gave myself a minute, then I limped to sickbay to stitch myself up.

*

Twenty minutes later, I returned to her cell and typed in the code to finally release the hood, revealing a sweaty face and hazel brown hair. She looked like she was in her late teens, maybe twenty, and even in this sorry state with her disheveled hair and swollen eyes, I could tell that she was a real beauty.

"Thank you," she said, breathing a big sigh of relief.

"That's some interesting jewelry you got there," I said, pointing at her boobs. "Want to remove them?"

"They don't come off."

"I'm talking about the titty cuffs. They don't look too tight, maybe with a bit of grease?"

"That steel bar in the middle that connects the bands, it's going through," she said. "I can't take them off."

I shrugged. People and their kinky toys - I had seen way weirder things than a pair of impaled boobs.

"I'll check back on you later, I think we both need some rest. Next time I bring some food, don't try to stab me, okay? Otherwise you'll only get sandwiches from now on."

She nodded. "Yes, of course."

*

Back on the bridge, Stanley was chuckling, the surveillance feed open on his console.

"Looks like you enjoyed yourself," he said with a stupid grin on his face.

"You just sat here and did nothing?!"

I was not amused to say the least. If the blade had hit me a couple centimeters to the left, I could have bled out.

"I figured you had it under control. Someone needed to press the button in case the mercs showed up."

"Jerk."

He laughed. "I warned you, that bitch is a wildcat. Why don't you chain her to the wall? You slave hussies should know how it's done."

"That's demeaning, I'm not gonna do that," I said, glaring at him. "How much is she even worth?"

Stanley took a sip from his beer.

"Five million, maybe ten. I'll definitely open negotiations at ten."

Holy hell, I thought, forty percent of that was enough money to retire in style, provided one survived the entire operation.

*

A couple hours later, one hyperspace jump closer to our destination, I brought her another meal. Chicken and rice this time, with some kind of curry sauce that smelled a lot better than it looked. I noticed that the previous tray was empty - she must have either eaten everything from the floor or flushed it down the toilet.

"I cut up the meat for you, I'm not giving you a knife", I said, when she picked up the tray.

"I'm sorry," she said, avoiding eye contact. "How is the leg? Does it hurt?"

"Only when I walk. But it's fine, it'll be fully healed in a couple of days."

She took the tray back to her bed and sat down on the floor. I watched as she ate the chicken and every last grain of rice and made sure to collect the fork when she was done. With her fed and happy, given the circumstances, I figured it was time for some answers.

"So, I think it's time we get to know each other. My name's Cassidy, and who are you?"

She looked at the floor. "I'm Nora. Nora Vlissidis."

Vlissidis?! I almost fainted, I had to grab the steel bars of the cell to steady myself. Now it all made sense.

"You ... You're the daughter of George Vlissidis?" I stammered.

She smiled timidly. "Actually, I'm his wife."

Fucking hell, that explained it all. The expensive tracker, the mercenaries on our trail, Stanley's refusal to tell me who she was, and the outrageous ransom. Stanley, that fucking idiot, had kidnapped the wife of the most dangerous mob boss in the quadrant.

I was dead. Deader than dead.

George Vlissidis, also known as Big George, was an underworld legend with his own private army of mercenaries. Over the course of fifty years, he had built a huge empire of illicit businesses, controlling major shipping lanes, trafficking weapons, drugs, and other contraband. Entire planetary governments were in his pocket and every attempt at putting an end to his criminal enterprises had failed miserably.

I sat down on the floor in front of the cell.

"You have to believe me," I said, "I had absolutely nothing to do with this. I'm just the pilot, I was hired on Zesta to get engine parts to Riva and before I know it, mercs are shooting at us. The guy who hired me kidnapped you, but I promise, I will get rid of him and you'll be home in a week."

She looked at me, nervously tugging at her large nipple rings.

"What if I don't want to go home?" she asked. "I was on the run, I left my husband and I don't want to go back to him."

"That's none of my business. I'll drop you off at some quiet place and then we're done. Your tracker is disabled, you can do whatever you want."

She looked at me wide-eyed.

"My tracker?! What tracker?"

"The one in your tooth," I said, pointing in the general direction. "Right molar on the top."

"So you're saying I never even had a chance?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. "He knew where I was? All the time?"

"Seems so, yes. Things just got more complicated when my employer kidnapped you."

Nora was either a very good actor, or she was extremely pissed.

"You know, I was extra careful, I prepared for months! Stashed away cash, organized routes, disguises, made up cover stories, everything. And he lets me run for a few weeks, like a rat in a stupid maze, while his goons are just around the corner. Gods, I feel so stupid!"

"So you're his prisoner, basically?" I asked.

"Not really. More like a trophy, we have a very complicated relationship. At first, I was a hostage to protect him from my dad, who used to be his biggest adversary. And now I'm like an employee, I've got my own quarters and I play the charming wife for a couple of days a week. I even get a salary for it."

She pulled her legs on the bed and started playing with her nipple rings.

"I didn't choose to marry him, you know. I feel like I'm trapped in this golden cage and I'm really tired of it all. I want to be free to choose my own path. For nine years I've been married and this is no way to live."

"Nine years? You don't look a day older than twenty."

"I got married the day I turned eighteen and I get regular rejuvenation treatments."

Rich people, I thought. Some spend millions on rejuvenation and I couldn't even afford to get my slave tattoo removed.

"What about you?" she asked. "Are you married? Do you have a family?"

"No, I never married and I don't have a family anymore."

My parents and I were not on speaking terms, we haven't had contact since the draft forced me to take part in their idiotic war and with my drug conviction and enslavement, I was dead to them. The only person I missed was my younger sister, but she hadn't answered any of my messages in years. Most likely, everyone was glad that I was gone.