Copyright Otto26, 2007
*
Spaceships, Francesca knew, should hum. The fusion reactor at the heart of the ship should transfer its warmth to the reaction mass and spew it out. The process should make even the best ship tremble like a living thing when it was under way. This ship, however, seemed to... moan. It was perhaps the least obvious of the differences, but it seemed to be the most significant.
Perhaps that was because it was the only difference she could really appreciate. The darkness of her cell denied her sight of the strange, almost plastic, material that made up the ship and there was nothing else for her to do except sit, eat, defecate, sleep, and listen to the weird sound of the strange ship. She was certain she'd fallen into the hands of creatures that most people considered nothing more than the semi-lucid tales of deep-space explorers.
Her father's decision to risk a dangerous transit in order to pick up the early delivery bonus on their cargo had proven... disastrous. The little black ship had been waiting for them, with weapons none of the crew had ever seen before. They'd tried to fight, of course, since they knew what awaited the victims of piracy. And then the black men in their weirdly misshapen assault suits had swept through the crew spaces, brushing aside their resistance, and she'd seen nothing until she awoke, naked, strapped to a chair and answering questions.
She'd gone hysterical, irrationally and completely hysterical, and they'd... done something which calmed her and dragged her through the strange, almost organic corridors of the ship and deposited her in the cell. Food from her ship, still in the wrappers, appeared at various times, lit by a faint glow from the walls. When she was done eating, the glow went away and returned her to the darkness. She'd tried to count meals, but she'd lost count somewhere after forty and wasn't sure that was completely accurate anyway. She suspected there had been a period of longer unconsciousness, but she had no way of being certain.
When the glow illuminated the cell she looked for the package of food, but found nothing. Instead, the door to the cell opened. The creature in the blinding light of the corridor took her by the arm and pulled her out.
"Walk," he commanded in the strange, sing-song accent that marked their speech.
He guided her through the weirdly organic corridors of the ship until they passed through what was obviously an airlock and into architecture that she recognized. The script on the wall was strangely formed, but it was Stanspeak, and it welcomed her aboard the Research Station Wayfar. Less inviting was the reminder that the station was a biological research facility and the caution that extreme safety protocols should be observed. The decontamination stations next to the airlock were obviously not in use and Francesca suddenly felt her nudity very keenly.
The man dragged her down the corridor and into an elevator that took them deeper into the station. At their destination they made the careful transition from zero-gravity into the artificial gravity generated by the station's rotation. Francesca, looking for a chance to escape, was disappointed to see her captor made the transition with as much ease as she did.
With her eyes adjusted to the bright light, she was able to make a closer study of the man. He was short, perhaps a few centimeters shorter than her, and not particularly large. Rope like muscles covered his body, however, and he walked soundlessly and with perfect balance. His clothing was a form-fitting vacuum skin in mottled shades of black and gray. His face, interestingly enough, was covered in the same mottled shades and she could see that this looked like body modification rather than natural skin tone. His hair was shaved on the sides and the thick strands of hair on top ran down his back in a tight braid. A patch of the dark material that made up the strange ship was visible on the left side of his head. His hands, she noted, appeared to be clawed.
So absorbed was she in her examination that she failed to notice they had arrived at their destination. The script on the wall labeled the room inside as a dining facility. They walked in and the man pointed to a chair at a table. Other men, and women, of his type were in the room and they were all examining her. Blushing, she sat in the chair and turned her back to the room in a quest for the greatest amount of privacy.
The man returned with a tray that he set down on the table. Two unappetizing gray cakes sat on it, next to two small bulbs of a green liquid. Some vegetables she didn't recognize were on a plate that he placed in front of her. She reached for one, but he tapped her hand with a claw and pointed at the cake and liquid. Sitting across from her he demonstrated, sipping at his bulb and taking a small bite of the cake.
Francesca gave the cake a taste and grimaced. The sip from the bulb was, against all reason, even worse. Grimly determined, she quickly wolfed the offensive foods with the minimum of chewing. Gagging slightly, she reached for a vegetable and then doubled over in pain.
"Slowly would have been better," the man commented. "Your symbiote has been living on its reserves and has not yet had a reason to expand into your digestive tract. This is likely to be painful."
Francesca's scream agreed with his assessment and she fell to the floor in agony as her insides burned and tore. He observed her patiently, nibbling and sipping at his food, and waited for her to finish.
It seemed to take a segment, but the pain finally ended and Francesca was able to uncurl from the fetal position. A faint warmth of euphoria seemed to fill her and she felt drowsy. The man, finished with his meal, took the tray away and returned, scooping her up off the floor. Holding her in his arms he carried her out of the room.
***
Francesca awoke in a bed and thought, just for a moment, that she was home in her quarters aboard the Pretty Penny. The unfamiliar surroundings killed that notion, however, and she began to wonder where she actually was. 'Not on that strange ship,' she thought. Her eye caught a gleam on the far wall and she saw a strange assortment of weapons hanging next to a mottled black and gray vacuum skin. Her ear caught the sound of a sonic refresher and she realized the man must be in it.
Painfully, stealthily, she rose from the bed and reached across for a knife.
"I doubt you would be able to injure me," the man said.
Shocked, Francesca whirled about and dropped into a defensive stance.
"I'm going to try," she snarled and lunged for the man.
She had the impression of an impact on the side of her head and then she was crashing into the bed. When her vision cleared the man was placing his blade back on the wall. Francesca could see a line across his flesh where her attack had grazed him. As she watched, the flow of blood stopped and a black foam appeared in the cut and rapidly solidified.
"That was well done," the man said. "I had not expected you to have any combat training."
He walked over to the bed and climbed on top of her. Still groggy, she tried to gouge his eyes out, but his hands caught her wrists as his knees pried her legs apart. Growling she went for him with her teeth, but his head jerked forward and caught her a blow just above the bridge of her nose. She saw stars, again.
"Fucking bastard," she spat.
"Technically correct," he acknowledged.
Francesca felt his stiff member probing and shifted her hips to avoid him. She tried to bring her legs back to kick him, but he collapsed his body on her and she couldn't quite get into position. She tried to think of something else she could do, her blurry vision searching for a weapon, her nose noting the smell of him.
The sudden jolt of warmth in her body was enough to stun her into a moment of inactivity and the man took advantage of that to drive deep into her body. Francesca was shocked to discover that she was wet, and was stunned by the second jolt of warmth that flooded her limbs. Her ears reported that she was moaning and even as she tried to make sense of that she was leaning her head up to kiss the man and wrapping her legs around him.
She ground her hips against him as he moved against her with mechanical regularity and lifted her breasts up, pressing them against his smooth chest. His tongue was in her mouth and she was sucking on it, consumed by a desire to be filled by this man. When she felt a sudden warmth inside her she exploded, screaming the pleasure out of her body lest it stop her pounding heart in mid-beat.
He was dressed when she regained consciousness.
"I am Stepen," he said. "You were good, but you could be better. Study the material on the reader and we will try again later."
