Page 11 of Star Cruise Captain's Story

But he wouldn’t have managed to infiltrate the operation if she’d been with him, even if she’d been stable enough in her corporeal form to pass for human. Mercenaries didn’t bring their women with them on jobs like the one he was engaged in.

The guard at the entrance to the hold gave him a chin lift and opened the portal so he and his antigrav container could enter the dimly lit expanse. Gil made his way to the cages, saving his brother for last as always. He shoved the day’s inadequate ration of food through the wires of the first cage. The hostages inside stayed at the rear of the enclosure, as if putting distance between themselves and him was a survival technique. He kept his face set in a grim frown and moved to the next cage. When he reached the third, where the three women were kept, he was startled to find the youngest standing pressed to the wire, waiting for him. She’d probably been quite attractive before she was taken by the terrorists but now her face was gaunt and shadowed and her hair was long and matted. Her clothing was stained and tattered and Gil hoped her appearance had been a deterrent for any of the men aboard this ship bothering her.

“Please,” she said to him now, her voice hoarse and cracking. “Please, Berenice needs help. She’s sick, maybe dying.”

Gil glanced beyond her shoulder to where the other two women waited on the thin mattresses. The older woman was lying with her head in the other’s lap. She was flushed and moaning, with shivers wracking her thin frame.

“I look like a doctor to you?” Gil said harshly, doling out the survival packs, which she allowed to fall to the deck by her feet. “She’ll make it or she won’t. No difference to me.”

“How can you be so inhuman?” Scorn was in the woman’s voice but she didn’t retreat. “She needs medical attention. I—I’ll do anything you want if you’ll get the ship’s doctor to come down here and treat her. Or take her to sickbay.”

He admired her selfless offer and wished he could offer comfort. Keeping his voice gruff and his face in an uncaring scowl, he rejected her offer. “Not happening.”

Gil moved on to his brother’s cage and swallowed hard. It cost him self respect to be so harsh to the desperate woman but the hold was monitored on the bridge and he couldn’t take the chance the man on duty wasn’t watching. He couldn’t say anything or encourage her.

He couldn’t talk to Daveed either but these few seconds of silent contact meant everything to him. His brother stood in the center of the cage, swaying a bit on his feet, favoring his previously damaged leg, holding his bad arm across his body. Daveed glared at him as if in defiance but they both knew better. It was hope in his sibling’s eyes, stoking the fire of resistance keeping his brother going.

Gil dropped the survival rations through the mesh, turned and walked away, Daveed’s stare like a huge weight on his shoulders. He wished the two of them could plan something together but he didn’t dare exchange a single word, much less try to plot. He prayed to Lords of Space for a chance to free his brother—and the others if possible— when he reached the Jlonngi planet. Failing the right opportunity for a clean rescue,he was going to take out as many of the enemy as he could and kill the hostages too in the process. He wouldn’t allow them to suffer more agony at the hands of the Jlonngi’s skilled torturers.

The woman was at her self chosen post beside the cage wall. She extended one hand as he walked past, eyes averted, hoping not to engage. “I’m begging you to help Berenice,” she said, a sob in her voice.

In silence Gil proceeded to the exit and stepped across the threshold as the panel slid aside. He nodded to the guard again and headed toward the storage area where he stowed the antigrav bucket. After shoving the container angrily in the space and forcing the door to slam, he stood with his head bowed, fighting for control of his anger and frustration. When he straightened, shoulders set, he drew a deep breath and headed for the cabin country on the ship.

He was met in the corridor outside Arturo’s suite by Quint, which confirmed for Gil that the Security man on the bridge had been watching his every move. “I need to speak to the boss,” Gil said, attempting to pass the henchman.

Quint moved to block his path and ahead he saw the guards watching closely, hands on their weapons.

“He didn’t say anything about needing a report from you,” Quint answered, stopping Gil with one meaty hand on his chest. “People don’t show up uninvited to chat with Mr. Main.”

“There’s a problem with the prisoners and I have to talk to him about it.” Gil met the thug’s annoyed regard unintimidated. “He’d be upset if I didn’t bring this to him.”

Quint studied him for a moment and then lowered his hand but didn’t step aside. He talked into a subaural com briefly and then nodded. “You got five minutes and this better be good, Clint. You ain’t getting paid to show initiative, get me?”

“If what I had to tell him was good, I’d keep my mouth shut. I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing here jawing with you.” Gilstepped past the man and headed to the door, which the guards opened for him.

The contrast between the luxurious cabin where Main spent his time and the conditions in the hold set Gil’s teeth on edge but he couldn’t afford anger right now. Gaining access to the man was the hard part. Convincing him it was in his own self-interest to care about the health of the hostages shouldn’t be as difficult. His temporary superior had a keen sense of self preservation or he’d never have survived long enough to take the leadership reins of a gang. “Sorry to intrude, boss,” he said deferentially to Arturo, who sat with a woman on his lap and his shirt unbuttoned, pants askew as well. “One of the hostages is sick.”

“Those wretches aren’t my problem in two more days,” Arturo said dismissively. “The Jlonngi aren’t exactly interested in promoting continued good health, you get me?”

Gil tried another angle. “She looks bad, boss, and what if she passes whatever she’s got onto the others? Tight quarters in the hold, unsanitary conditions.”

“My contract is to bring the hostages to the Jlonngi alive, that’s all.” Arturo. “No specification about how healthy they need to be. Just alive.” Head tilted, ignoring the woman who had her hands all over him, Main asked, “You catching feelings for this broad? Because that would be a problem, between you and me.”

“Fuck no. The one who’s sick is old enough to be my grandmother,” Gil gave a harsh laugh. “I know the Jlonngi want them all alive, which is my point, with all due respect. You told us they want all eleven for some ritual of theirs—it’s a special number to them, right? Well, I don’t want to find out the hard way how their leader will react if we bring them ten and one dead of some damn bug she caught in our hold. Or worse, if any of the others die.” He leaned closer, trying not to breathe intoo much of the girlie’s cheap perfume. “What are the odds the Jlonngi would decide one of us—you maybe—ought to take her place to make up the magic number?”

Arturo looked shaken, although he covered it up immediately. He waved a hand as if the discussion had become unutterably boring. “Fine, tell the doc I said for him to go treat this bitch, whatever she needs to stay alive three more days. You’re in charge of making sure it happens and nothing else happens. Understand?” He rose, taking the woman with him in an impressive display of strength and walked away from the desk, heading for the bedroom.

“Whatever you want, boss.” Gil pivoted and headed to the portal.I probably guaranteed myself the spot as the next victim if the Jlonngi do need another body to sacrifice.

He gathered another mercenary and then the doctor, who was Arturo’s personal physician, although the man had a record of major medical malpractice and was unlicensed to practice medicine anymore. Despite a major feelgood habit, the medico could still operate the sickbay robos and handle minor injuries and complaints. Gil had no respect for Dr. Rodgers but he was the only resource available. He and the man he’d drafted escorted the doctor to the hold, along with a med robo, and stood guard while the doctor examined Bernice and treated her with a series of medinjects.

“Khamano fever,” he said as he left the cage, accompanied by his robo, which had actually made the diagnosis. “The medinjects will quell the fever and kill the infection. Not usually contagious without close contact but I gave the other two ladies prophylactic injects just in case.” As the robo had recommended in its monotone, buzzy voice. “The other prisoners should be ok since they had no direct contact with her.”

Gil glanced into the cage, taking note of the younger woman who’d asked for help watching him intently. “Need you tocome here tomorrow and check the prisoner out,” he said to the doctor, using his command voice. Realizing his mistake as Rodgers gaped at him and puffed up to take offense, Gil toned it down on his next remark. “Boss’s orders to keep them alive until the handover.”

“I’ll send the robo with you.” The doctor clapped the robot on the ‘shoulder’ and grinned. “Stinks in here. I'm not some damn angel of mercy, son, gave all that up a long time ago for more lucrative pursuits. You come to sickbay and collect ole Harvey here tomorrow when you’re ready to do your medical rounds.” Chortling as if he’d made a hilarious joke, Dr. Rodgers hastened toward the exit, the robo trailing behind on its antigrav cushion.

Gil made one more trip to the hold later the same day, bringing three blankets he’d stolen from the ship’s supplies, which he threw into the women’s cage. “Doc said to keep her warm,” he lied. “Figured since the two of you were exposed to the bug, you’d better stay warm too.”

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