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Yithian Slave Ship
A Cell
Macy grumbled at the phantom hand stroking her hair like her mother used to do. Visions of her birthdays, presents and cake waiting for her. Aunt Caldera dancing around the table with her cocktail raised above her head. Mom teasing her and shooing her away from the fireplace. Gran sitting at the table, still wrapping last-minute gifts morphed into her slumped in the chair in front of a dead fireplace, to her sprawled on the bathroom floor in a pool of vomit. Macy stilled. Gran was dead, so was her mom. So who was touching her? A vision of a massive sharkman stroking her while she slept gave her the creeps.
“Macy, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” the strange voice asked.
Macy mumbled a bit more as she forced herself to sit up. A similar headache as the last time, throbbed in her temples. She rubbed there, hoping this time the mini massage would help her feel better. “Like shit. Blasted shark,” she said.
“You challenged him,” Cyndi said. “He probably thinks you’re champion material.”
“Oh, shit.” Macy slumped and shifted on her ass to sit next to the new woman, leaning her back against the cold metal wall. “I didn’t think of that.” She blinked to clear the fuzz from her mind.
“Yeah, their escaped champion took down a few Yithians when they kidnapped her,” Cyndi was saying to the new prisoner.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Macy snapped, hating the familiar burn of anger in her nostrils and the narrowing of her vision. She drew in a shuddering breath. It wasn’t fair to take her fear and frustrations out on Cyndi. She was as vulnerable.
“I’m sorry.” Cyndi sniffled. “I forgot.”
“It’s okay, Cyndi. We know now.” Macy leaned across the stranger to pat Cyndi’s hand. “Hi, I’m Macy.” She forced a lip-curl despite having nothing to smile about.
“Quin. Glad you’re okay.”
Macy’s gaze traveled over the towering Greek goddess. Sprawled in leggings and a gym tank, she was the epitome of everything Macy wished she could be. A thick braid of sunshine blonde hair and escaped tendrils haloed a face with an angled jaw, strong yet beautiful. How had the crazy sharks managed to take her? “You’re gorgeous,” she whispered, hoping those muscles could help them, but doubted it. What this woman might be doomed to was a life as a gladiator. Macy wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
“I know, right?” Cyndi giggled. “She looks like an Amazon warrior.”
“Do you think they’ll believe you’re a champion?” Her concern for Quin didn’t surprise her. Lumped together under these circumstances would change the normalcy of her life. She sighed, dismissing the strangeness of it all as par for the course.
“Nah, even though Quin towers above me, they’re taller.” Cyndi clasped her hands. “Let’s hope they see us and think puny Earthians.”
“Earthians?” Quin pressed four fingers to her lips, hiding a grin. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s what they call us.” At the scraping noise, Cyndi screamed at Quin to close her eyes. Cold, wet foam rained onto them again, smelling like antiseptic and dousing them in seconds.
Macy had reacted, as well, the desperation in Cyndi’s voice driving her to obey. She now understood the correlation between scraping and foam party.
“Shit, I hate that stuff,” Cyndi muttered, once more drenched like a drowned rat.
“It’s supposed to keep us clean, I think.” Macy wiped her face with her sleeves before standing up to stamp her slippered feet. Argh. She wanted a long bath with no bubbles.
“They do it every second day.” Cyndi twisted the foam out of her shirt. “I made the mistake of glancing up the first time it happened. Damn shit burns.” The remnants of the foam on the floor and the cell walls evaporated after a few minutes, but not from their clothes or bodies. Macy plucked at her drenched nightgown and scowled. The cold saturating the wet fabric had her shivering in. Rubbing her hands along her arms brought some warmth back.
“How were you taken, Mace?” Quin asked her while she squeezed her braid.
Macy gaped at Quin, so tall that Macy’s temple reached her shoulder. Towers over her, Cyndi had said. Damn right, the woman was a giant.
“About midnight, I went into the backyard to help a stray dog,” she said, recalling the hopelessness that had paralyzed her. Some people prepared for any attack, but Macy had never believed it could happen to her. What idiot prepared for alien abductions? Well, not her. “Didn’t see this coming. Damn dog is probably sleeping on my bed now.”
“If we get free, would you want to return to Earth or travel the stars?” Quin asked.
Not return home? Macy smiled. What an intriguing question. As she thought about it, she tilted her head and studied Quin. In normal life, she’d never have thought Quin or Cyndi could be her friends, but circumstances changed everything. And if it meant they were friends for the rest of their short, tormented lives as shark-slaves, then she’d be grateful for it.
“I always wanted to see the stars but never as a prisoner.” Cyndi’s voice was wistful.
“I wouldn’t mind if I had one of those sexy aliens,” Macy said, relishing a wave of heat as hope swept through her. Images flashed in her mind’s eye, and she rubbed her palms together.
“Macy, no.” Cyndi giggled, having picked up on Quin’s nickname. Not that Macy minded, she liked the sense of familiarity as if they weren’t on an alien ship heading toward a doomed and painful end.
“Hell, yes, I am. They’re damn hot.” Macy’s smile deepened, building a tightness on her foam-stiffened cheeks. Oh, to have one of those Etterians claim me. She shivered but this time, not from the cold.
“What sexy aliens?” Quin frowned.
“Quin, where have you been?” Macy laughed, relishing the joy bubbling inside of her as if she’d snubbed the sharks and her fate. “Gorgeous aliens have found us women to be just what they need. Four or five women have mated, so far.”
“Mated? Like with bears and wolves?” Quin widened her hazel eyes.
Macy did a little dance. “I saw one once, on the homepage of Trash-e. They were paparazzi-style pics, but damn, sign me up for that ride.” She ignored the nasty voice that whispered that a gorgeous alien would never choose her, that there would be no more rides for her...of any kind.
“Let me guess, tall, super buff, bronze-skinned, long black hair down to his ankles?” Cyndi ticked off on her fingers. “And sexy as hell.” She smirked.
“Yup, sounds about right.” Macy chuckled, but she’d lost the joy, the excitement, her inner voice having drained her hope.
“Damn, how come I didn’t know?” Quin said.
Macy couldn’t answer that. Sure, the news had been about green-tentacled aliens making first contact in the outer reaches of the galaxy, and only recently had images of Etterians reached the masses. She was an average human in an average world living a less-than-average life. What chance did she have? She scanned the cell. None.
After a few minutes of silence, Cyndi nudged her. “Macy, sing for me, please.”
“Anything?” Macy’s heart wasn’t up to singing. The sheer miserable life she had weighed on her, but the expectant and needy expression on Cyndi’s dirty face tugged at her resolve. When Cyndi nodded, she chose a song with a catchy tune, hoping the beat would restore some happiness to the cell. Quin joined in the moment she recognized the archaic song. The three of them belted out the lyrics, uncaring of their situation and their tremulous future.
Quin hugged Macy. “You have an amazing voice,” she said, her praise warming Macy as nothing else could have. Okay, so I may not be the prettiest, but I can, at least, do this. It’s better than nothing. Cyndi hummed on, proving her tone-deaf self-assessment. It didn’t bother Macy. She was happy her friend could get her mind off their situation, even for a little while. And she had to admit, singing helped her feel better too. It always did, even under such a dire cloud.
Into the silence, Quin said, “Did they mention sexual slavery?”
Macy slumped, her eyes drawing together in a scowl. Sexual slavery? Shit, why didn’t I think of that? Then she took a deep breath. They’d go for me last since Cyndi and Quin are far more attractive than I could ever be. She chastised herself for her unkind thoughts, but a glance at her friends only confirmed their beauty.
“Yithians don’t find Earthians attractive. We’re arena fodder if they cannot find a champion among us.” Cyndi’s words had relief shooting through Macy who released a held breath in a rush.
“What do they look like, Cyn?” Quin asked.
Macy shuddered, remembering the hardness of his skin under her finger and the solid-black gaze Scarface had leveled on her. She shot a glance at Cyndi, letting her answer Quin.
“Like sharks, gray, slimy with eyes too wide apart.”
“Wearing some sort of body armor,” Macy said. The texture was like leather but a synthetic kind, mixed with plastic or something harder, not so supple.
“Any weaknesses?”
“Weaknesses?” Cyndi scowled. “Oh, no, you don’t, Quin. They’ll shoot you like they did Macy.”
“Just tell me.” Quin’s voice dropped to super-serious.
“Eyes wide to see all of the room.” Macy split her fingers and pointed at her face. She lifted her chin to the pale-yellow light as she recalled as much detail as possible.
“Excellent peripherals.” Quin pursed her lips. Her level of confidence warmed yet frightened Macy at the same time.
“What about a blind spot, right between the eyes?” Cyndi tapped the bridge of her nose. “You know, like a hammerhead.”
Quin shook her head. “It would be too tricky if he did have such a blind spot. A step to the left or right, and he’d see me. Anything on his body that could be targeted?”
“They have balls, well, I assume they do. One of them grabbed there suggestively as our men do.” Cyndi raked her fingers through her filthy hair and tried to braid it.
“Good to know. And their necks?” Quin asked.
“Like a shark’s, wide to their shoulders, thickly muscled.” Cyndi gestured with her hands, touching the crown of her head to the edges of her shoulders.
“So only eyes and balls. That’s not much.” Quin’s shoulders slouched for a moment before straightening as if her posture was under scrutiny.
“Maybe if we distracted Scarface, you can attack from there?” Macy indicated the corner closest to the door.
“That could work. I’d need to get his gun. Once I have that, we can blast our way through them, arming ourselves and some of the prisoners, as well.”
A sliver of icy fear slithered down Macy’s spine. “Shit, Quin, you don’t think small.”
When Quin frowned at her, she glanced down, hoping no one thought her a coward.
“If we kill the guard, sweetheart, it’s not going to help. We need access to the command room and communications. We need to send out a distress signal or message.” She jumped up to pace. “There’s bound to be more prisoners than Yithians, right?”
Cyndi shrugged. “So what? You get the gun, we leave, and start shooting the guards?”
Macy blinked at Cyndi as sparkling excitement coursed through her. But mostly there was fear with her gran’s voice screaming at her that she was damn insane. If she died while escaping, it was a shit ton better than an arena, or worse, slavery.
“Yeah and let’s take the time to get the stunned guards into the empty cells. I don’t want them taking us from behind.”
When Macy glanced at Cyndi, ‘what the fuck?’ crossed her mind. Quin pressed her ear to the door and missed the look Macy shot at Cyndi, who had paled. There was a confidence, a stubborn strength that ran through Quin, and it scared Macy. And since neither of them could form the words to argue with Quin, it seemed as if they were about to attempt an escape. Sheer mindless terror gripped her, and she sucked in needed breaths, hoping to calm her trembling limbs.
“Also, we need to check before we open doors. For all we know, there are alien monsters destined for the arena.”
Macy almost snorted, as if finding alien monsters was as common as replacing a toilet roll. “Monsters for an arena? Like Gladiator the vid?” As an ancient Earth movie with a handsome lead actor, the Roman world had seemed so far from her life. Never had she thought she would one day find herself on her way to such a place. She pinched her arm and winced. No, not a nightmare, which meant escape or die with a blade or claw in her belly.
Quin opened her mouth to answer, but the cell lit up, bathing their wretchedness in bright light.
“Shit. I’m not ready,” Cyndi said, panic cementing her face in ashen gray.
“Go to the corner, Mace, and lie down. Cyn, pretend to kick her. Mace, I want you moaning like she’s killing you.”
“What?” Macy gaped. She shut her mouth with a click and clenched her jaw at the thought of her impending death.
“Just do it.”
She threw herself onto the floor, shivering against the cold. Wrapping her arms around her head, she sobbed, groaned, and wailed, putting her heart into her last performance.
“Stupid bitch, why don’t you die already?” Cyndi yelled.
A glimpse between Macy’s splayed fingers revealed Cyndi’s face contorted in anger. She stilled for a moment, impressed then grimaced, releasing a scream as the air moved where Cyndi pretended to connect with her foot. Macy jerked back as if struck, ‘crying out’ again. She fought the urge to freeze when the door swished open and continued to moan as if her life depended on it.
Because it did.
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