This choice: Interception by a merchant craft • Go Back...Chapter #5Interception by a merchant craft by: Yote   She throttled the engines to full. It wasn't long before the Institute's flight control was pinging the ship. "Layla, you're coming in much too fast. Reduce speed immediately and establish a docking pattern."
"There's no time," she responded. "I need a bay prepping immediately. I found something on the planet, something alive!"
"Say again? What is the nature of the lifeform? Insect or algae?"
"'Algae'?! It's not algae, it's a mammal. Humanoid, big, hairy. It's making these really weird noises and it's hatching in my cabin right now."
"A mammal that's hatching? Layla, you're not making any sense. There is nothing left on Earth but cockroaches. Now I'm ordering you to slow your craft otherwise you endanger everybody on- KZZZZZZ."
The radio message broke down into static. She tried to reopen the channel but found white noise blanketing every frequency. Something was jamming her.
An empty patch of stars was moving towards her. She didn't notice it until it had her in its graviton beams. Her ship slammed to a halt, the engines screaming in protest. As the other vessel reeled her in on the end of its graviton beams, the lights from her own ship illuminated its hull. It was a freighter, its size dwarfing her own. It had no outward lighting and its hull was a dull black. A smuggler vessel no doubt. It began to scan her.
"Whoa there, little miss. What's with all the rush?" the other vessel radios her on narrow-beam. The voice is a mocking drawl with the heavy accent of the outer colonies.
"How dare you scan my ship without permission," she retorted. "Release me at once. I have cargo vital to the Institute's research, and they won't-"
"You don't know what you have," the voice replied. "What you have is a whole heap of trouble. Trust me, I know. Let me do you a favour and take it off your hands."
"Hah! This is the most valuable find of the century!"
"Valuable? Sure. But only if you know where to sell it, which I do. What you've found is contraband. It's so illegal that most people don't know it exists. If the authorities get their hands on it, they'll destroy it and kill you for knowing about it. Y'see it's their dirty little secret. What say you come aboard and we can discuss this further."
"Do I have a choice?" Layla said through gritted teeth. Fighting against the inexorable pull of the freighter's graviton beams, the engines sounded as though they were about to explode. Reluctantly Layla powered them down. The vast cargo bay doors of the larger vessel swung open. Her ship was tractored inside.
-|-|-|-|-|-
The next thing you know, you're waking up in the floor of some aircraft hanger or something, retching up wet chunks of ambrite. It is warm, smells of petrol and there is a loud thrumming like of a massive engine. There are shipping containers piled up around you, and women climbing all over them, lashing them to each other and the floor with heavy chains. A group of women in overalls are peeling pieces of melted ambrite off your clothing.
Two women watch you from the sidelines. One is young, wearing a wetsuit covered in filth and a face like thunder. The other is older, taller and naked apart from a pair of khaki shorts. Her bare chest is covered in ornate, colourful tattoos. She rubs bejewelled fingers together eagerly, watching your extraction from the ambrite with a gold-plated grin.
"Ain't this exciting? It's like Christmas day, unwrapping your presents and all. Y'know what, I reckon he'll clean up just fine once we wipe the sick off."
The one in the wetsuit fumes. "When the Institute finds out about this, you and your crew are all going to jail. You can't just graviton someone into your hold at 20,000 miles an hour. This is an Inner System, there are rules."
"Lucky for us we aint hanging around then," the tattoed woman grins, tapping a communicator on her wrist. "Helm, this is your captain. Cargo is on board. Get us out of here."
The hum rises to a roar. The gravity in the hanger seems to pitch sickeningly, shifting the piled containers with a deafening metal screech. With a jolt, you are knocked over into the pool of your own sick. The wetsuited woman falls similarly on her ass. None of the others pay it the slightest bit of notice. The captain strolls over, pulling you up with a muscular arm. "Now-"   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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