As ET4H2-5C slowly drifted back into consciousness, the first thing she noticed was that every part of her body hurt. She still felt the lingering effects of the Supervisor's celebration, but it also felt like someone had taken the time to beat her all over with a length of conduit. She groaned weakly, feeling her bruised body raise complaints at even the slightest movement. But as she floated in place she suddenly realized a second thing.
She wasn't dead.
The memories of the Megaship came flooding back in vivid, horrible detail.
The slave's eyes snapped open. She tried to extend her arms to steady herself but found them contained within some kind of sack. After a moment of struggle, she managed to free herself and grabbed hold of whatever she could. Her own frantic breathing sounded strange in her ear, prompting her to reach a hand up to her face where she found something covering the lower half. She awkwardly pulled it off, turning it over with a confused expression.
"An oxygen mask?" she whispered to herself, her fingers turning off the valve out of instinct. In the background she heard a gentle whistling. Whatever ship this was, it was in Supercruise.
She looked around the room she was in as she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, noting the strap across her waist. It was a small sleeping compartment of some sort. Not much more than the bed above which she floated and a series of metal storage lockers for personal effects. But most noticeably there was the logo of the ship manufacturer Faulcon DeLacy stamped on the inside of the door. She squinted, DeLacy ships were a common sight within the Empire, and she had worked on dozens of them. But this couldn't be an Imperial Navy vessel.
With a sinking feeling she remembered someone had once told her that DeLacy ships were also a popular choice among the less savory pilots of the galaxy: like whoever had attacked the Megaship. Their attacker would also have been the closest ship that could have found her, she realized solemnly. Her heart began to pound inside her chest and to distract herself she let her gaze wonder around the room, trying to match it against be layout of the DeLacy ships she knew. After a moment it was clear it was one of the Cobras. Likely the Mk III. The Mk IV never caught on, and the Mk V was too new to be common yet.
But her thoughts were interrupted by a metallic voice ringing out overhead.
"Greetings Passenger," came a woman's voice. The slave jumped, letting out a tiny squeak of surprise before regaining control of herself. She quickly recognized the voice as a COVAS, a Cockpit Voice Activated System: a program used on smaller ships to assist solo pilots. In fact, she even recognized the voice profile. It was Verity, the most default female voice that came preloaded on all systems.
"Umm, greetings Ma'am," the slave replied unsurely.
"The Commander is pleased to hear you are awake. She confirms she will be with you momentarily."
ET4H2-5C's eyes widened in terror as her mind was flooded with images and stories of ruthless pirate captains and what they did with slaves. She let out a startled gasp as she lunged down, scrambling to release the strap across her waist and wriggling her way out of the sleeping bag. She desperately scanned the room, frantically looking for something, anything that could let her escape whatever monster was on their way towards her.
"The Commander asked to be notified if you appeared in any distress. Are you in distress?" Verity asked as the slave spotted a small maintenance access panel overhead. Without hesitation she kicked off from her position, gliding through the air towards it as her muscles protested the sudden movement. She hit the ceiling and she spun herself over so her feet and knee magnets could lock her in place upside down. The slave grabbed hold of the panel and popped open the clips with trembling hands.
"I have no record of the Commander giving permission to access maintenance areas. Passenger, did she grant you permission?" Verity asked, the question taking on an air of menace despite her voice remaining unchanged.
"I'm sorry Miss Verity, but set COVAS volume to zero!" ET4H2-5C squeaked, recalling one of the admin commands she knew. The panel swung loose in her hands, and she dived through the gap just as she heard the hiss of the door opening behind her. The slave found herself in the cramped ceiling void, full of intertangled cable trays, conduits, ventilation ducts, and god knows what else. She desperately pulled herself deeper, trying to snake her body through what little room there was.
"Hey, Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" the slave heard a shocked woman's voice call out behind her before she felt a hand clamp around her ankle. ET4H2-5C let out a terrified gasp as she twisted around, but in the darkness she could only make out the ominous silhouette of the pirate with their head and shoulders though the opening. Her leg very firmly in their grasp, and their other arm poised defensively as if they were anticipating a kick.
"Look, I get it," the figure began. "You went through hell out there, and now you're scared. It's okay to be freaked out. But you're safe now. I promise I'm trying to help you," they said, their voice tense and wary. But the slave could barely register their words, her mind only focused on the fact she had been caught and given her captor another reason to be angry.
"But you can't go crawling around in my ceiling. Not safe for you or my ship. So can you come back? We can talk. I swear I'm not going to hurt you," the figure added after a moment, but again the words seemed to just pass over the slave. All she could do was let her muscles go slack and allow herself to be gently pulled backwards towards the access panel and her fate.
"Lady, this'd be easier if you weren't being such a limp noodle," her captor complained as ET4H2-5C was pulled back into the sleeping compartment and given a soft push towards the floor. The slave touched down and quickly backed into the corner of the room, fearfully pressing herself against the wall as she got her first proper look at the pirate.
ET4H2-5C felt a moment of surprise as she saw that they were a young woman, just landing in the middle of the room and making no move to come closer. She was dressed in a black flight suit, hugging her body with the exposed ports that a life support system could attach to if required. But the woman had the zipper of the front of her suit pulled down, just enough to expose a hint of collarbone and upper sternum. Over her suit she wore an open brown leather jacket, the collar high behind her neck and the sleeves rolled up to leave her hands and forearms bare. A leather belt rested around her hips, from which hung a handful of small pouches and what appeared to be to be a knife.
She looked like a sleek panther standing there, the slave thought nervously, remembering back to books she had read on long extinct animals. But not one poised to strike, one simply watching its prey. In the air currents ET4H2-5C noticed a long jet black braid floating behind the woman. Panther tail, she realized as she swallowed.
But what really caught the slave's attention was the Pirate's face. She looked young, maybe slightly younger than the slave. And she was even slightly shorter too. But just in the confident way the woman held her head, she looked like she had the entire galaxy laid out before her.
And her eyes... ET4H2-5C had to hastily remind herself that she wasn't looking at Jade, for their eyes were strikingly similar. Full of fire and independence. Burning with a spirit that could not be tamed.
The two stared at each other silently for a few seconds: the pirate wearing a cautious expression, and the slave wearing a terrified one. But it was the other woman who spoke first.
"It's okay. It's okay," Alex repeated slowly. "I know being in an escape pod sucks. But I promise you're safe here. No one's going to hurt you," she added, trying to be reassuring as she took in her passenger's petrified face.
"My name is Alex Turner," she introduced herself after not getting a response. "Independent Commander with the Pilots Federation. I was in the area and just happened to find your pod."
And finally the slave managed a reply, her voice sounding minuscule even in the small room.
"you're... not a pirate, Miss?" she squeaked in a combination of disbelief and shock, her formal tone cracking. Alex couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh.
"Me? A pirate? Seriously?" she chuckled.
But her smile evaporated as she watched what little colour there was drain out of her passenger's cheeks.
"Sorry," Alex muttered before clearing her throat: regretting her reaction.
"No, I am not a pirate," she began gently. "Like I said, just a freelance pilot who stumbled across you by chance and picked you up. You were in a Megaship right? You got attacked? I promise I'm not the one who shot at you," she stated with what she hoped sounded like sincerity.
"You might also be relieved to hear your Megaship wasn't destroyed. I know they made it back into Hyperspace," she added hopefully.
To Alex's relief she did see a tiny bit of the tension begin to loosen in her passenger's shoulders. But the woman's expression was still pale and mortified, and she made no move to speak.
