Space Station Wayfar Ch. 01

Stepen shook his head. "We are contaminated. They cannot risk infection."

"We're not contaminated, Lorenz's Disease is transmitted by contact, it's not airborne," Francesca protested.

"Research station," Stepen reminded her. "They could have altered the disease. The captain will not risk his crew for us."

"Then we wait for some of my people to pick us up," Francesca countered. "The station is expecting a supply run."

"The Sunflower is returning to the system where we took your ship to intercept that vessel," Stepen replied.

Francesca realized that her world had crumbled entirely through chance. 'They were waiting for that supply ship when we stumbled along and they mistook us for her. Oh void...' She ran through the possible courses of action, looking for one that allowed her to live.

"Wait! What if we transmit the station logs to them? Won't they want to tell someone in authority, someone important about this? They might decide to ignore the supply ship and run straight home."

Stepen nodded slowly, almost unwillingly. "That might succeed," he admitted.

"I'll set the research logs to transmit to the Sunflower and then you can record a message advising them to destroy the station. With the delay, we'll have time to reach an escape pod and get clear of the station. In fact, we'll launch all the escape pods in case they decide to try and hunt us down; that'll make it harder for them to find us," Francesca proposed.

"A good plan. But I cannot trust a slave and I must be able to trust you. I offer you... you do not have a proper word for it... clan-oath?" Stepen said.

"What's that?" Francesca asked idly, the bulk of her attention claimed by the commands she was giving to the station system.

"All members of a... clan are bound by an oath of mutual assistance. If we are bound to each other by this, then I will trust you. I must trust you or we cannot do this and I must ensure that we die here. The clan must be protected."

Francesca's fingers froze and her mind raced through possibilities. "You need my skills to transmit the message," she pointed out.

"But not to destroy the station," he countered. "You need to trust me as much as I need to trust you," he tried persuasion.

'Void take him!' Francesca silently cursed. 'He's right. I do need to trust him. I have no choice but to trust him. He could kill me and make a break for it by himself, maybe. If he's serious about destroying the station... Damn him!'

"Okay," she forced herself to say. "I accept your clan oath and offer mine in return. Acceptable?"

"Yes," he said softly.

"Ready to record your message," Francesca announced. She listened to him speaking in tones that were equal parts lyrical and guttural. When he was finished, she closed the file and instructed the system to begin executing it. Quietly thanking the stars for the emergency access feature of the system, she set the escape pods to launch on a timer.

"Done," she declared. "Here's the fastest route to the nearest escape pod. Let's go."

"We must make a stop at this room first," Stepen informed her.

"No! Too far. We need to go straight to the pod."

"We need a field protein converter," he insisted. "Our symbiotes will starve without a source of food."

"Good," Francesca snarled. "I want the filthy thing dead and out of me! Let it starve!"

Stepen shook his head. "No, if the symbiote is not fed it will try to feed on you. That will not save it, but it will still kill you. Very painfully."

"Then we'll have the med-tech on the supply ship remove them. I don't want it anyway!"

"The symbiote will resist this. It will not be successful, but I doubt either of us would survive the process. We need a protein converter in order to survive, Francesca."

It was the first time he'd ever used her name, she realized. The thought was enough to break through her resistance and fury, to convince her that he was really thinking of their survival and not just his.

"Okay. The nearest pod to that area is... here," she said. "Let's go."

***

The corridors were a mess from the takeover of the station, but they got steadily worse as they made their way towards the room Stepen had identified. Half-installed organisms and wandering drones littered their way and the station power was fluctuating and starting to act strangely. The environmental controls, in particular, seemed to be having problems and strange smells filled the air. Francesca knew that someone was trying to do something to the station, but exactly what that might be she couldn't tell.

Stepen used his sidearm, another weird, organic creature like all of their technology appeared to be, to shoot several drones. She followed behind him, careful not to approach to closely, and fretted about the time it was taking them to reach the room. A sound from further down the corridor caught her attention as Stepen whirled around and leapt at her.

He dragged her out of the corridor and into the nearest open doorway. Francesca flailed at him, digging her fingernails and teeth into his flesh. The warmth flooded her body, hard on the heels of her anger, and she felt herself grinding her ass back against his pelvis. Biting became sucking and the flesh of his hand felt good in her mouth. She struggled to turn in his arms and face him, but he wouldn't let her. A firm finger suddenly pressed next to her clit and began to slowly circle, his lips pressed against her ear, softly kissing her. The sensation was delightful and she reached down and took hold of his hand with hers, slowly moving her hips with his rhythm Her entire body was hot with desire and his stroking calmed her by sending waves of pleasure washing through her.

After several minutes he abruptly stopped and she whimpered in protest, thrusting her hips against his hand. The sensation of his lips at her ears suddenly formed itself into whispered words.

"You can control it, Francesca. You can. I promise you fulfillment beyond your dreams when we reach the escape pod. Control it for a few minutes."

"Yes," she whispered. "I... I can do that."

"Good" he replied and released her, stepping quickly past her and into the corridor.

She followed him in a hungry haze, but he moved too quickly for her to catch him up and, slowly, the desire raging in her loins began to quiet. The silent cursing in her head filled the void.

When Stepen motioned for her to stop she grabbed onto the wall to ensure that she didn't get too close to him. She watched as he settled himself and then stepped into the middle of the hallway and fired. He ran after his shots, following them in, and she ran after him. Two corpses lay in front of the doorway and they had to carefully work their way around them without touching any of their blood.

Inside the room, Stepen rifled the shelves until he found what he was looking for.

"Quickly," he said. "They must know we are here now. Run for the pod!"

It took them two minutes to dash to the nearest pod and Stepen had to shoot one more infected person who got in their way. The pod blasted out of the station scant seconds after they had strapped themselves in and it pinned them to their seats with crushing force. Then, abruptly, it was gone and Francesca felt the warmth in her belly that demanded attention.

Stepen's hands reached across and grasped her restraint release.

"Yes," she breathed contentedly, and then the hands were gone and she protested, her own hands trying to make the release work. She looked down and saw he'd used a piece of hull tape to cover the release; the tough material was used to repair micrometeorite breaches and her fingers would never be able to release it.

"You promised!" she shouted.

"Yes, but the symbiote is driving your behavior, Francesca. I regret that I am unable to reverse the effects of your implant, so I have restrained you to prevent you from taking actions you would regret later. The pod is simply too small. If we are rescued then there will be adequate room to separate us," he explained.

"Void! None of that bothered you before!" she spat at him.

"You were a slave that I was training," he replied. "Now you are a... comrade. Family. I must act in your best interests and at this time you are incapable of making a rational decision. If I acquiesced in your wishes, you would be angry when the effects of the symbiote faded."

"My interests?! It's not enough that you did this to me, now you're going to force me to ask for it? Void take your soul, Stepen! Get over here and fuck me!"

The man shook his head slowly. "I am sorry, Francesca."

Francesca snarled wordlessly in animal frustration and rage. The desire that sang in her body was painfully insistent and made it difficult for her to focus, to think.

"Please, Stepen. Please. I need this. I need you," she said in the calmest voice she could manage.

He shook his head again. "Just the symbiote."

"Yes," she agreed desperately. "Just the symbiote. But the symbiote is part of me, Stepen. I have to live with it. I need you to help me live with it! You swore an oath," she reminded him.

"I do this because of our oath," he tried to explain to her.

"Just a little, Stepen," she begged him. "Just a touch. A kiss. Please, Stepen."

Stepen sat quietly for a moment and Francesca whimpered quietly, involuntarily. Then he shifted until he was in front of her and bent his head between her legs.

"Oh, thank you, Stepen," she whispered as she felt his lips against hers, his tongue darting across her wetness and circling the hard nub of her clitoris. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

His caresses brought her back into balance and restored her ability to think, though they did little to eliminate the burning desire within her. As his tongue grazed the side of her clit her body jumped and she reached her hands down to stroke his head.

"More of that," she growled. His compliance was instant and she hissed in pleasure. "More. More. More," she demanded, and he delivered. The orgasm caused her body to shake violently against the restraints and Stepen was still driving her deeper and deeper into it. She lost the ability to breathe and saw a red mist creeping in at the sides of her vision. And then it stopped and she was sliding breathlessly towards warm sleep.

"What does this say?" Stepen demanded.

Drowsily, happily, Francesca picked up the package in her lap. "Oh. That's a med kit," she said muzzily.

"Yes, but how does it work?" he asked.

"Automated," she replied. "S'all automated."

"Which is the sedative?"

"Why?" she giggled.

"Which?" he pressed.

Her fingers seemed heavy and the blissful lethargy of sleep called to her. "This one," she said.

"Thank you, Francesca," he said from far away and kissed her softly.

"Mmmm" she thanked him, and drifted away on the wings of bliss, never feeling the injector he placed against her neck.

***

"...any time now," a strange voice declared.

Francesca opened her eyes and blinked against the light.

"Like I said," the voice said smugly.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"Med bay of the IMS Blue Horizon," the voice said. "We were making a contract supply run to the Wayfar. Can you tell us what happened?"

'Imperial merchant ship?' Francesca thought. 'What are Stellas doing this far from their home?' she wondered. Something about the man's voice made her distrust him.

"Pirates," she said in a thin voice, dry with thirst. "I'm the cargo officer on the FTAS Pretty Penny. They were waiting in Chandaguptra's Star system and picked us off. I don't know how they took the station, but they did. One of them was some kind of cultist and exposed himself to some samples in the biology lab." She ventured a glance at the men and gauged their reaction. 'They knew,' she decided. 'This is some kind of test.'

"I managed to make it off the station to an escape pod. I think the pirates blew the station, but I don't know. Did they?"

"Yeah, they blew it," one man muttered.

"What about the guy with you? Your partner?"

Francesca laughed and then coughed as the dryness in her throat took over. Someone put a straw in her mouth and she took a long sip of the liquid.

"No," she said. "He's one of the pirates. He was supposed to be training me as some kind of sex slave. They put something in me, some kind of symbiote, it let them inflict pain on me." She could see two of the men react, relax, and she knew then what the test had been. "You need to lock him up and keep him alive. These symbiotes, they're alive but they aren't the same as humans."

"An artificial life form built using synthetic DNA," the first voice said.

"Something like that, I guess," she agreed. 'Time for a test of my own.'

"Any chance you can take it out of me?" she asked.

"Too dangerous," the man quickly replied. "It's wrapped around your spine and it's got tendrils that go everywhere important in your body. Better we let some academics at a big medical center take a look at this."

'Ah,' she thought, glumly.

"Would you be willing to talk to the pirate?" another man asked.

'Bigger, older, hard eyes, probably the captain,' she decided. "Yes, so long as there's lots of space between us," she said.

***

Stepen wasn't restrained, which surprised her, until the thought that Stellas, even merchants, would have really good confinement facilities crossed her mind. He looked at the vid screen and didn't appear to react when he saw her face.

"I can't bring myself to thank you," she said. "I want to tell them to kill you, slowly, for what you did to me. For what your people did to my father and the rest of my family aboard the Penny. But I can't convince them to do that either. So let's call it a wash. They need to know how to feed you, Stepen. I need to know how the protein converter functions."

Stepen growled something low and in his own language.

"What?" she asked.

"Starve in agony," he translated for her.

"Nice. I think I know how to make it work, but if I'm wrong I might hurt it. You can always choose to die later, Stepen. I know what your oath demands and you are allowed to survive."

His stare bored into her and she began to sweat, afraid that he would actually choose to die, afraid that she would die with him.

"I must touch it," he said. "It slumbers in hibernation, but I can awaken it. Once I have done that it will function so long as it is fed. Feed it anything edible and the waste products it produces will contain the proteins necessary to sustain the symbiotes. It is a symbiote itself and must consume some of the proteins produced. Keep it well fed."

Francesca grimaced when she realized her life depended upon eating the waste products of an artificial life form. "Your pistol," she pursued. "Does it need to eat this as well?"

"Yes."

"Okay," she sighed. She decided against thanking him.

***

The Stellas mocked her dietary supplement, of course. The sting was taken out of it by her knowledge that any crew would do the same with an outsider. A ship was a tiny bubble of life floating through a hostile universe and the people that made up the crew became closer than family. When she reacted to the mocking by laughing with them, and occasionally biting back, they accepted her as 'okay' if still not family. Besides, bread was made with the waste products of another life form.

Still, Francesca suspected it was mostly an act. She'd met enough ships' crews, even Stellas, to know that this crew was not typical. They were too uniform, too young, too fit, and they didn't bicker in the way that families did. Though she couldn't prove it, she was sure they were actually military. It explained too many things: the isolated research station, the behavior of the crew, their desire to get her to a medical facility as fast as possible.

Cargo officer she'd been, but on a small ship everyone knew a little bit about everything. And she knew that the ship was transiting systems faster than was safe, faster than should have been possible even in a state of the art Imperial merchant ship. It made her nervous.

She spent most of her time answering questions. She recorded her impressions of her experiences. She was scanned daily in the medical bay. She worked on the available fitness machines. And she plotted.

It took her two months to discover the means of her escape and another month to establish a routine that would allow her a reasonable chance of putting her plan into action without alerting the Stellas. It was another two months before the right conditions were in place.

***

The Stellas had dipped into an inhabited star system to refuel. Francesca had known that they would. While they could refuel by diving through the outer atmosphere of a gas giant, that entailed extra risk and labor and produced a substandard fuel that decreased the lifespan of the power plant. Better to take the time to refuel someplace inhabited, someplace with quality fuel and mapped space lanes. The ability of the ship to go as fast and far as it had was both impressive and frustrating to her; every jump took her closer to what she was sure was captivity.

But even if it was a heavily modified cargo ship, it was still a cargo ship and Francesca knew cargo ships. Her plan wouldn't have worked on military ship; they were built from scratch to specifications that were custom generated. But cargo ships used commercial technology that had been built on specifications hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years old. Configurations differed, but the modules that composed the core of the system remained unchanged in any important way. And the men staffing the ship were not merchanters, had not grown up working cargo ships, had never seen what kind of tricks clever teenagers with no fear of death and no comprehension of consequences could come up with.

The code was broken, but it looked good to the parser so it was passed without question. The module that received the code choked on it three times and then kicked the code back to the parser, which checked it and decided it was good. The code was passed back and forth three times before the parser decided it needed to restart itself as part of a function check. It was just a minor part of the lighting system, after all, and not an important system. Francesca's program sent the next chunk of code through while the parser was down. It contained a value that was too large for the recipient program to process. The parser would have caught it and kicked it back, but the parser was restarting when that code came through. The recipient program choked and sent an error message.

One by one, the carefully crafted program knocked over the dominoes in an increasingly complicated dance that culminated in the soft whisper of silent darkness as the reactors went offline. It shouldn't have been possible to cycle all the reactors through their self-diagnostic shutdown process at the same time, but her program had spoofed the system to create the proper circumstances. The memory of sharing that program with her cousin Mira, of demonstrating her teenage superiority over the stifling adults, sent a brief pang of sorrow through Francesca. She wondered where Mira was now, if she was being trained to service the monsters that had captured them. Like the one she needed to rescue.

The containment seal had safety measures, of course, but Francesca bypassed these with an ax and reached her hand inside to grasp the handle of Stepen's weapon. It seemed to mold itself eagerly to her hand and she felt it... itching against her palm. Pushing the thoughts aside, she walked out into the hallway and began making her way towards the cells.

The power coming back on was what saved her. She expected it, but the crewman waiting outside the cell didn't. While he was half-blinded and surprised she floated out and leveled her weapon at him.

"Don't," she warned him when he perceived her presence.