Page 5 of A Savage Bargain

“Do you breathe through those all the time? Or just when you’re in the water? Do you have lungs too?” I rapid-fire asked my questions in part to keep him talking while I figured out how to get out of the damn shipping container, but also genuine curiosity, since my only knowledge of mermaids and mermen came from the movies.

“They are only for underwater. Yes, I have lungs.” He tilted his head, considering me.

“Your skin is pretty,” I offered. Why not make nice with the man-fish who might be responsible for keeping me alive? Although, in truth, his smooth skin was gorgeous. Shades of blue, green, and purple swirled together, reflecting the light.

“Thank you.” He turned. “Follow me.”

I swallowed the bile that rose. “Where are we going?”

“To meet the Collector.”

“Cool,” I mumbled, before doing as he said and closing the shipping container door behind me. No reason to be discourteous to my new hosts, I thought, and barely contained a snort-laugh. As if I gave a shit. Well, I did, since I didn’t want to die. But, given that I still wasn’t convinced we were on a spaceship, I’d keep playing the part until I figured out a way back home.

Nervous chatter vomited from my mouth while we walked down gleaming metal hallways broken up periodically by empty computer workstations. It looked very much like every other metal spaceship shown on television, and unfortunately ticked another box in the I’m-on-a-spaceship-in-fucking-outer-space column. I definitely wasn’t still in a warehouse of any kind.

“Where are all the people? Um, other beings?” I asked.

“This is an autonomous ship with minimal crew. Most guests are in their rooms or enjoying social activities.”

“Sex traffickers have social activities?” Now I did snort-laugh.

Krake glanced over his shoulder at me but did not answer the question. Not that I expected an answer.

We entered what might be called a turbo-lift, as I’d learned from those sci fi shows. A fancy name for an elevator to another deck of the ship.

“Tronnalion,” Krake told the computer.

“What’s that?” I whispered, not wanting to confuse the computer.

“It is like the penthouse.”

“Ooh, fancy. Sex trafficking pays well off-world too, I see.” Although I didn’t miss his use of the word penthouse. That seemed very Earth-specific. How much time had he spent there?

“Providing sexual entertainment is a very lucrative endeavor for all involved.”

“I doubt for all,” I countered in a low voice. “What planet are you from?” I asked, to cover my snippy comment.

“Klaxon.” He spelled it for me in English, without my asking, which I begrudgingly appreciated.

The lift dinged and the door opened. I hadn’t even felt movement. That was impressive. But now my vision wavered, and I was certain I’d die of a heart attack from the anxiety of the unknown beyond the door.

“Exit the lift,” Krake instructed when I still hadn’t moved.

I breathed a sigh of relief when we stepped into a metal-appearing hallway identical to the one we’d started in. Whatever unknown potential horrors would be delayed at least a little bit longer. And then I resumed my questioning. “You’re not the captain or collector, and you said there’s minimal crew. What’s your role on the ship?”

No answer.

“What’s a runner?”

No answer.

“Do you have a sex slave?”

He stopped his forward movement and turned to face me. “Do not be like this when you meet the Collector.”

“Be like what?”

Krake thought for a moment. “Noisy like this. Do not do it.”

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