Once upon a time, 68 years ago, a girl went to the Moon.
To study.
Of all things a girl could do on the Moon, this girl made the journey to Luna to join a program for underprivileged gifted kids.
As a toddler, she lost her father to deployment, a year later her mother to booze.
Taken in by her Uncle, the Girl had a poor, but somewhat idyllic childhood. A tad unstable, that's true. They were always moving, but her family made up for it. They had an adopted kid: another girl, another brilliant girl. The Girl never had siblings before, and now she had the best Older Sister.
Her aunt was not her Uncle's woman (as she liked to remember him, she was his partner), but she was mom to her Older Sister, and Aunt made sure the girl knew she was her Aunt, even if her Uncle one day was no more. She would not leave her children behind.
But life doesn't happen as we plan. Mostly.
For one, it was difficult to care for such a small girl in their conditions (and the Girl knew it. She ended up going to the Moon to study, remember? Smart Girl, that one). And well…
The Aunt was a smart girl too. And she thought long and hard. Aunt had been homeschooling her girls and decided to apply for a program that covered materials and supplies for homeschooled children studying advanced subjects.
The program had rules. To be eligible the Girl had to prove she deserved funding (as if all children didn't deserve it, but alas). She took tests. She tried her best.
And her best granted an invitation to become part of a program for gifted children. On the Moon.
Sounds like a fairy tale, right?
Far from it. The girl didn't want to go, but the family didn't have much more to offer (even if what they offered was enough for the Girl).
You see, they were adults, not little girls. They knew they shouldn't stay in the way of a better and brighter future (for her). One she could get and they couldn't offer. Off to the Moon, the Girl went.
She was 10 years old and a resilient little thing. From home, she only took some clothes and her uncle's dog tags. As she would find later on, the military was quite the family business. Or fate.
The Girl wanted to go back, but she could only move forward (they had taught her well). At 16 she was accepted into university. She planned to become a veterinarian one day.
To achieve that she studied hard, joined the swimming team, volunteered, and took lots of extra activities. It paid off: the Girl was granted enough scholarships to focus on studying.
But life took a wild turn. At 17 she got in trouble with a 19 years old boy. Who was not so smart, but had all the money. The money and a shiner to prove the Girl was not only resilient, she was also feral.
The boy deserved the assault and so much more. So much more. But the Girl had no defense - no way to prove who was right and who was wrong.
(Only 17, and the Girl swore to never be caught off guard again. Ever).
Expelled. The Girl wanted to go back, but how? How would she face her family? The Girl was grown, and she needed to do better. Better than come back home and become a dead weight once more. Dragging them down. Making their lives harder.
That sounded nothing like a happy ending, right?
The Girl got enlisted, alright. And she did well. Very well. So well that people took a second look at her. And her past.
More tests. And now the military knew the girl was more than smart, feral, and resilient.
At 21 she died. To the world, that is. She got a death certificate, an empty casket, a military funeral. Even a gravestone.
And her family got a fat payout for life insurance.
You see, she was offered the best of deals. The Girl who went to the Moon had been chosen to become part of another special program. But this was much more special than the first one.
The Girl was going to dedicate her life to the service of others - but for that, she could have no name, no face, no home, no family, no wants, no freedom, no rights.
In the trade (because it was a trade) she got to help the family. The one she didn't have anymore, the one she always had wanted to go back to.
XXX
Barbara Frost took a deep breath and took over as the leading character in the Girl's head.
Until one of her fellow freelancers tried to take liberties with someone else's stuff (aka girls), and things escalated to the point of drawing guns.
Which was just perfect. A perfect mess.
Who should I kill first? The guys enslaving people or the fuckers on Charlie's payroll?
Since both groups were screwing with her little Black Ops schemes, she did the best thing she could think of, and went to check the girls. One of them had been punched and got a broken nose, another had been slapped hard, so hard that she tripped and fell.
Thankfully, no serious injuries.
While the guys still screamed about damaged goods (guns pointed to the floor now. All bark, no bite. Charlie was so fucked), she looked at the lady with blood going down her face.
"Your nose needs resetting", Lance spoke softly to the other girl. You know, being in that situation (as in owned as a thing) was already bad enough.
"No, please. I'm fine, I swear, I'm…" she cried.
Oh boy, not now…
Lance needed to shove her conscience (it had just reared its ugly head) back into the depths of whatever darkness she could find.
Truth was: if she tried to play hero everyone was going to die, and Dad was going to be pissed.
And I won't be here to see it…
"Look, I can tell you are here for your looks. You are beautiful. If the guy who is coming to get you decides to leave you behind because of a crooked nose, you will go back to the guy who sold you", Barbara was cold. Ice cold. And Lance had done worse once - shattered the mind of…
Not now, goddamnit!
"If you are sent back, that guy won't be happy. Do you understand?", the look on Fer-de-Lance's face gave no room for misunderstandings.
The other girl was still crying. Lance waited a bit, allowing reality to sink in.
"I promise you, I have done it a lot. The nose thing. It will hurt, but just for a moment", she sighed and waited.
It took some tears and sniffles, but Lance got a confirmation nod. The Girl placed a thumb on each side of the other girl's face.
"Close your eyes and relax, ok?", Lance asked, while massaging the sides of her nose with her thumbs (feeling the broken cartilage and deciding how to set it straight). Blood was still running.
Crack!
"What the fuck are you doing?" a male roared the question after the girl-with-the-broken-nose screamed.
"Realigning her nose, asshole", the Girl didn't even turn to be sure at whom she should be shouting.
Lance had a bandanna around her neck (she also had protective goggles inside her backpack, just in case the wind became strong and she needed to protect her face from the dust. The bandanna had the same purpose plus preventing her from inhaling dirt particles carried by strong winds), which she took off swiftly and pressed against the girl's face.
"Chin high up, come on…", she coaxed, side-eyeing the men. None of them seemed keen to start yet another conflict, but messing with other people's packages was a no-no.
Barbara's bad etiquette was soon forgotten: the sudden mechanical hoar way above their heads announced the imminent landing of a dropship. And it was getting louder fast.
It would touch the ground in 3 minutes or less.
Right on time.
And just like that the whole organic shipment was crying. Kind of expected.
"Hey, you were doing so well. Come on. Keep your head… yes, like that", Lance took a deep steadying breath. Fuck me and my fucking bleeding heart…
"What's your name?"
"Si-Sila. You?", Sila-of-the-bleeding-nose sobbed.
"Barbara… ok, listen. You need to listen", Lance's voice was low but firm.
"Stay cold, Sila. Don't look people in the eyes, eat and drink at every chance you get. Try to be invisible. Ok?" Clear instructions. When in crisis, always give clear instructions.
Sila bawled.
"Hey, hey! No. That's not invisible. That's parading in front of everybody's faces", Lance's tone struck Sila like a whip.
'I know it's hard. But be invisible. Ok?", she was trying to say it all very slowly, so the crying girl wouldn't miss anything between sobs.
Tears, snot, and distressed tears - Sila was not invisible just yet. But she sure did her best to be the least noisy of the desperate crying girls.
The mercenaries traded packages in the most transactional way - the sobbing girls were anything but shipment, things that already belonged to their new owner.
The human traffickers were on their merry way first thing after delivery: money awaited to be spent, somewhere beyond the remote landscape.
As for Barbara's contract, part of the ship's crew stayed behind, reinforcing the convoy.
It was up to Lance to watch the last of the girls be boarded. Sila was still holding the bandanna to her face when she disappeared into the ship.
God…
Sitting on the back of the transport with 5 huge sealed boxes, Lance took a step back to allow Barbara to take over completely.
Miss Frost still had a long night ahead of her.
The definition of wrong was lying at Ah'kaedh's feet. Well, most of it.
The rest was safely cradled in his hands. He was still looking at the skull, pondering how to go about the cleaning process of his new trophy - what would give him more pleasure? Skin the face first? When another Yautja joined him.
"Enforcer", came the greeting (even if that was meant more as a way to grab his attention than anything else).
"Yes?" Ah'kaedh had a deep voice. And the habit of talking in low tones.
"The ooman is ready for you", the other Hunter was slightly uncomfortable. The enforcer was prone to mood swings for the past few years.
"Is he stable?" Ah'kaedh was still inspecting the skull.
"His condition is stable now", the other Yautja relayed.
Standing, in the Medic's direction. Measured movements, eyes straight ahead, slow and silent steps. The Hunter left without another world.
Sabrina was the fourth generation of her family born in Cardis IV soil. They were mostly uneducated workers, who established a new home for a whole lot of family members. She had a huge number of distant relatives earning their life through hard work and underpaid jobs.
Everyone was doing exactly that, even the relatives Sabrina didn't care to remember the names. Everyone but her.
The merc-tag-along looked to the ceiling of that strange ship, very uncomfortable in her wet pants. She couldn't smell urine on herself, but she was quite conscious of the origin of the huge wet spot between her legs.
Yesterday, everyone who knew her would swear Sabrina would never pee herself out of fear (and boy, they were all wrong).
You see, she was the bravest, most adventurous, stubborn, rebellious, self-reliant, bitch-who-takes-no-shit who had ever been born (at least that's what she was told her whole life). Her boldness drove her to look for "her kind of people". People like Sam.
Her boyfriend of 3 years, Samuel, had introduced her to this way of life. It was risky, but the money made up for it. Besides, there was the excitement (fuelled by lots of adrenaline). The people. Sabrina had never met so many interesting people, with such extraordinary stories.
For the last years, she thought she had made it. Breaking away from her roots, leaving behind a mediocre, uninteresting, uneventful life. She was not trusted to get a contract in her name just yet, but being part of Sam's crew was good enough.
And things seemed to only get better (Sam would have bouts of paranoia, but hey, they were hauling illegal cargo, it came with the territory). And 4 months ago she was sure they were headed towards more: more money, more jobs, more prestige, more stories to tell. She barely noticed how much more secretive and paranoid her boyfriend had become.
After all they were doing so well, that Sam started to subcontract more crew members. They were also making big bucks, and she was fully focused on spending her fair share in all stuff her greedy 21 years old heart desired.
Not long after, Cardinalis, the local trade point, and underworld's marketplace was blown into the next dimension.
Luckily they were hauling chemicals for the local cook during the raid ( the guy had a contract directly with Sam, and they would bring the cook his stuff and distribute the homemade drugs among his dealers. And they were decent. Not the strongest, but she never had a bad day the morning after using them).
Sabrina started to miss the money (miss the spending was more like it). Until two weeks ago. Sam's broker sent him a contract that made him both nervous and excited. His paranoia was running on full force, which could only mean one thing: big contract. That equals big payout.
The itinerary was quite simple. They had to pick up some silly boxes in the middle of nowhere, haul them to Thedus, pick up a bunch of whores, and bring them back to Cardis IV.
Sounds easy enough, right?
Wrong. A vessel approached them right after they left Thedus atmosphere.
She was back in engineering deck when the ship shook violently. Something hit them. Her heart sank: if it was an asteroid they were fucked. But quickly it became clear that it was not the case, no. It was another vessel, and Sabrina was sure this whole ordeal had something to do with Thedus USCMC-Army's garrison.
The quasi-mercenary was readying herself to get fucked (literally, if it meant they would be free to go back to Cardis), when something hit her ship a second time.
Sabrina had never been in a vessel under attack. Hell, those types of confrontations were something out of her reality. They had a fucking cargo ship.
Who the hell attacks a cargo ship?
The answer: aliens.
Ho'kan made peace with his death when a group of Bad Bloods ambushed his hunting pack.
Fresh out of their Chivas, they wanted to taste the freedom that only foreign planets could offer them. The excitement that only dangerous prey brought to their young minds.
They were quite prepared for claws, sharp talons, and to face death. Ho'kan and his companions trained their whole lifes for this.
Ho'kan was young, and it didnt occur to him to keep watch against his own race. Worse yet, the traitors, the fucking Bad Blood traitors once belonged to his own clan (and they knew were to look for young bloods).
Ho'kan knew he would die. Actually, he should have died. Him and his whole hunting pack. Instead, they were subjugated, tortured, raped, and sold. To oomans.
Sold to fucking prey.
Who let him and his surviving brothers rot in their own excrements, ridden with infections and diseases acquired from those vermin who once shared the honor to belong to his clan. Two of his brothers perished because the damned oomans couldn't be bothered to give them enough water to clean their own wounds.
The Young Blood was not prepared for what happened next. One day, a ooman, a tiny one at that, set him free.
He saw when the small body carrying a large gun (for her size anyways) entered the room containing his cage. Went right through his cell, and checked other passages, before coming back to him.
The ooman glanced over the bodies of his pack brothers, and looked at him. Right at him.
It said something in it's language to no one (probably using some communication device) and turned around.
Ho'kan just knew by the armor that the monkey had come to that place to make war. The way it moved, the way it looked at him. That and mayhem happening outside. Earlier the exterior sounds resembled a party. But less than 15 minutes ago the merry song turned into a nightmarish cacophony.
It should have killed him, Ho'kan knew it. And he was ready to die (he had been ready for a long time).
Well, Death wanted nothing to do with him. To Ho'kan's astonishment, the ooman went to a panel and disabled the locks, opening the damn cage. While pointing the gun right into his chest.
And then… it stepped out of the way.
Ho'kan's resolve faltered, and found himself uncertain of what to do next.
And then, the monkey surprised him once more, pointing the way out.
It was several steps away, aiming the gun at Ho'kan's chest. Looking at him. And gestured with its head towards a passage.
Perplexed by the Yautja (ongoing) inaction, the little ooman took a step further and used the barrel of that gun to show which direction and passage he should take.
As in: It moved its weapon away, opening its guard, to point Ho'kan his way out.
And then left.
Sabrina was praying to a God she had forsaken, for a way of living she despised
(fear will do crazy things to one's standards).
Right now, Sabrina vowed, she just wants to live a life like her mother's.
But no deity would be so naive in believing the prayers of such a girl, when they were filled with despair and untrue intentions. Sabrina just wanted a way out. Any way out.
Because right now she could hear Sam howling in pained despair through the thick vessel's walls.
Ah'kaedh took what he needed from the male ooman. Enough information to go after the monkey who was intermediating negotiations with Bad Bloods.
It wouldn't be easy work, but that didn't worry the Hunter.
But before finishing that disgusting piece of shit, Ah'kaedh went looking for Ho'kan. The Young Blood was unlucky enough to get entangled in a situation Ah'kaedh had some personal experience with: being a prisoner of oomans.
It didn't take long for him to cross paths with the medic, while looking for the kid.
"Ho'kan?" Curt and to the point.
"I believe he went to check the other ship and the slaves", came the calm answer.
For what end?
Not that he would ask the Yautja in front of him. It was better to go directly to the source.
Once he reached the tunnel linking the ships (a nasty piece of technology whose sole function was to force a passage, connecting vessels through brute force. Once dislodged from the invaded ship's outer shell, it would render it useless and improper for organic travel), the kid was already on sight, walking in his direction.
Ah'kaedh stopped in his track and looked straight at the young Yautja face with the most inquisitive-and-pissed look he could muster.
"I went to check for signs of… of Nax", the kid explained. Nax was the still missing member of his pack. The others were all dead.
"I don't recall telling you to do it", Ah'kaedh observed coolly.
Ho'kan had requested the Enforcer to join his hunt for the Bad Bloods and oomans respectively responsible for his capture and imprisonment. Ah'kaedh, who would usually prefer to travel and work alone, decided to accept the kid's request (to his Elders surprise).
The Hunter knew what captivity could do to one's mind. And how cathartic that trip could be for the young hunter.
(Ah'kaedh was not a bad person, he just had too much anger and short patience. That combination was not complementary to company).
"It won't happen again", the new blood answered. The Enforcer tilted his head, pondering. The young hunter surely looked disturbed. Strangely enough, Ho'kan seemed more uneasy with whatever he had found back there than with the reprimand he just got.
"You found something", It was not a question.
"Yes. I mean, I thought I did", the kid now sounded uncertain.
"Show me", Ah'kaedh started in his direction.
"It's…", the kid shook his head as if trying to dissipate whatever fog clouded his brain.
"I found the ooman slaves. But one of them... It kind of smelled like the ooman who released me", Ho'kan clicked his mandibles in frustration.
"But it was just a piece of cloth", he completed.
That was interesting. Ah'kaedh had all the intentions to annihilate all ooman mercenaries, directly and indirectly, linked the Young Blood's imprisonment.
It was likely that said cloth was given to the slave by that ooman, or someone who knew it. The joys of knowing one of the common languages of humans: he could ask everything about the original owner.
As the Hunter crossed the tunnel, something came over him.
A memory: Giggling.
Another memory: If you ever enter a cargo ship, always look for hidden closets. The manufacturers will add storage anywhere they can because most of the space on cargo ships is meant for the shipment loads and fuel. The crew's quarters are crazy small. So they fit storage everywhere, the Girl had been sitting at his side, after a long series of muscle stimulation.
Memories were strange, strange things. Triggered in the most inconvenient of times.
The Hunter took a steadying breath. And avoided looking for hidden doors and drawers.
"I placed them in different cabins. Paya, how oomans can even travel on a ship like this".
Hunter and Girl had been so close (in a way) that he just knew what she would have said next. Ha! Told you, teeny-tiny quarters. And there would have been laughter too.
"How small?", Ah'kaedh asked (he was 8 feet tall after all).
"If the medic was here, one of us would need to step outside. Too crowded", the young male sighed.
The rest of the walk was made in silence.
"She is quite scared", Ho'kan warned. There was no need for it. Both Hunter could already sense it: the acrid stank of fear.