warning- themes of slavery, alcohol, strong language, and a dash of gore.
Onus opened three of his eyes to a blurred visage of women, all passed out on the cushions around him. Two of them were chained to the iron rings on the floor, but despite this they'd been quite pleasant.
More than pleasant, actually, if his ale-addled memory served him. A smile spread across his face as the highlights of the past night resurfaced. He had to admit, when Silver had left the crew at the docks he'd had his doubts. They way the strangers were studying them, staring them down like starving strays eyeing up an easy meal, he'd have been the first to abandon ship if things got ugly. But not an hour later he and the others had been seated at a feast fit for kings. The drink was sweet, the women sweeter, and even now the usual pains that came with so much drink were nowhere to be felt. This planet was hospitable if nothing else. He was foing to miss it when they left. But then again, why leave? They were kings- nigh, gods- here. He'd seen the way the...donish? No, Domid. Whatever, he'd seen how they'd treated Silver when they'd come back to the ship. Whatever the ursid had told them, it had worked a small miracle.
One of the chained women moved in her sleep, pulling her mussed hair away from her fine-featured face and the pointed tip of her ear. Onus remembered her now, the silent one, the first to fall asleep, thoroughly intoxicated. He moved, whether to wake her or grope her he hadn't yet decided, but something bumped his side as he shifted. A corked bottle, sloshing seductively. Onus grabbed at it with greedy hands- the sleeping women weren't going anywhere.
Jim ground his teeth as a strangled noise escaped him, almost inaudible for the sharp crack of the lash across his back. There was a thump as the whip dropped to the floor, probably forsaken in favor of whatever the strangers had given the crew. Jim hadn't tasted it, of course, but Mertock had spilled a goblet of it in a sloppy toast- a gold, jewel-encrusted goblet at that. It was tinged pink and smelled sweet, whatever it was, and there seemed to be a never-ending supply of it. All he knew was that Silver and his two lackeys had returned with casks of the stuff, as well as more than a dozen whores, crates of fresh fruit, racks of smoked meat that made his stomach ache and growl, and much more. One by one the men had drifted off, and at some point he'd been dragged ashore to an inn. The pirates of the harbor had gone from cold and unwelcoming, to greeting Silver's crew like lifelong friends.
How an entire crew of hardened criminals had so quickly abandon any sense of caution was beyond him, but Jim found he couldn't care less if they all turned up dead in the morning. He strained against the silk scarves that had been expertly tied to his wrists, one securing him to a bedpost, the other the locked doorknob, but they held just as strong as the chains in the Legacy's brig. Either that or he'd just grown that weak. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything that wasn't soggy, covered in mold, or crawling with maggots.
A snore startled Jim from his haze. He slowly turned his head, half expecting a lash to the face, but Scroop was lying near motionless on the bed. Jim had spent months sleeping in the same room as the lot of them- he knew by now which of the pirates snored, and Scroop was always silent. He eyed the half-empty bottle on the night table warily.
Whispers outside the door caught his attention. Straining his ears, Jim tilted his head to try and make out what was being said, or who was speaking. The rattling, rasping noise behind him drowned out the voices, and then they were gone. Jim pulled at the scarves again, wincing as his wrists protested painfully. Just as he gave up, going limp against his bonds, he heard something pop. Heart racing, he turned his head to see the frayed threads he'd managed to tear. His determination renewed, Jim struggled with all his might. The scarf tied around the bedpost finally gave way, tearing in half with a loud rip. Scroop's snores suddenly stopped, and for a few terrifying seconds, Jim was sure he was in for a world of hurt. The pirate shuffled in his sleep, and Jim thanked whatever higher power was looking out for him as the snoring continued, albeit not as loud.
Crawling on his knees, Jim moved to the door, pulling the remaining scrap of fabric from his wrist with his teeth. As he fumbled with the knots on the other scarf, he peered through the keyhole. There was someone at the end of the hall, just out of sight. He could make out blue-tinged skin, and the voice was closer now.
"...should sleep through the night. None the wiser. Not what we planned, but their ship might outrun the clippers," a woman was saying. Another voice, this one male, snapped back at her.
"The watchmen will know something's up. Those casks were meant for them, not these pathetic terrans. Their fat captain is holed up in the harbormaster's own house- what's he going to do when his ship just up and vanishes from the docks?!" Jim frowned. So the ale was drugged. No wonder Scroop was sleeping so soundly.
"What choice do we have? People will know something's wrong by the time they wake up."
"This wasn't the plan." He hissed. "We can't get them out. Not with the watchmen awake. Its too risky..." the voices faded as the pair moved further down the hall.
With one last tug, the last knot gave way. It took all his self-restraint not to leap to his feet. Heart pounding, he rubbed his wrists, wincing. Cautious, he stood and slipped the tattered remains of his shirt over his head, wincing as it came into contact with his blistered skin. His eyes darted around the room. The key lay on the night table, next to the bottle. He crept close, his knees trembling and slipped the key into his hand. The lock seemed to turn painfully loud, but the slumbering pirate didn't stir. Once he'd gotten out of the room Jim relocked the door behind him and slipped the key into his pocket. That would buy him some time.
The hall was dark, the gas lamps turned down low and casting long, quivering shadows. Every door that he passed he half expected to be thrown open and for some enraged alien to attack him. He could hear nothing but faint snoring, muffled by the walls and doors.
The hallway ended at a landing, and down the grand spiral staircase Jim could see a number of aliens spread out in the room, lying on cushions and surrounded by scantily clad women and empty bottles. The air was so thick with the sweet scent of incense it made Jim feel light headed. As an afterthought he covered his nose and mouth with the torn collar of his shirt. The large front door stood slightly ajar, the black night outside seeming to suck out what little light there was. Jim spied a blanket tossed aside on the floor and snatched it up, slipping it over his head before carefully making his way to the door.
Once outside he kept his head down, forcing himself to walk casually toward the docks. His mind raced- where could he go? What should he do? There had to be a way off this planet. If he could stow away on another ship perhaps, or even steal a longboat, maybe he could make it to another spaceport. It was a stretch, but if he stayed here someone would eventually find him.
One thing was for sure, he needed a weapon. And as of now there was only one place he knew of where he could get one. One of the large kitchen knives in the Legacy's galley would do until he found a sword, or even a pistol if he were lucky.
There weren't many aliens around. There were a few here and there, some stumbling from one tavern to another, but the shanty town was almost deserted. Sticking to the shadows Jim was able to make his way back to the docks. He peered around the side of a brick wall, the blanket still over his head. As with the rest of the town, the docks were fairly deserted, save for one figure on the short bridge overlooking the multiple piers. There was an alien keeping watch, cleaning the blade of a sword absently with a strip of cloth. Every so often he withdrew the pipe from his mouth to exhale a cloud of smoke and let his eyes roam the harbor before resuming his menial task. There didn't seem to be a way around him. In order to get to any of the ships Jim would have to cross the bridge or scale the stone wall separating the town from the docks. It wasn't much taller than he was, and he could be up and over in the blink of an eye, but if the watchman saw him he would definitely become suspicious.
Jim steeled himself, preparing to chance it, when bells began to sound, the shrill clamor shattering the peaceful night. The guard looked up from his blade and jumped to his feet, scanning the docks. Jim backed up against the wall, cursing his luck. More bells began to ring- an alarm was being sounded. But why? Scroop, he realized with dread. He woke up. They're after me. Pirates began pouring from their ramshackle homes, shouting in the native language. Though Jim couldn't understand it, he knew by their tone they were angry. The watchman cast one last glance over the docks, then sprinted down the bridge to talk to a group of men. Taking what might prove to be his last chance, Jim darted down the docks and up the Legacy's gangplank. Something flickered in the corner of his eye, and he turned his head. His jaw dropped as he stared at the brilliant flames licking the night sky, dark clouds of smoke billowing into the air. A blessing in disguise, as the pirates would likely be more concerned with the blaze than a missing prisoner.
Jim ran to the galley, and reached for one of the cleavers Silver used to cut meat, but hesitated. A knife like that was better for chopping, not so much stabbing. He grabbed a smaller, serrated knife and tucked it into his belt.
Just as he was about to leave he heard voices on deck. His heart skipped a beat as they grew louder, closer. Jim ducked into the small storage room, holding his breath. The strange language, panicked voices, and what sounded like crying. Jim didn't dare risk peaking out from his hiding place. He knew he had to find a better place to hide, but the only place he could reach was...
He glanced at the door, icy claws creeping up his back. Memories flashed before his eyes. He knew Scroop wasn't here, but his stomach lurched at the thought of being trapped in the larder again. More voices began to echo from the galley. He had no choice. Jim ran to the door as quietly as he could, slipping the bolt behind him and waiting in the dark.
Time seemed to drag on, and a few moments stretched into what felt like hours. No one came looking for him, the voices didn't come any closer. Suddenly the ship roared to life, lifting into the sky so fast everything flew off the shelves around him. A sauce pan came crashing down on his head, and Jim saw stars. He crawled across the floor to where he'd hidden before and pulled his knees to his chest. Why was the ship moving? And why so quickly? The conversation he'd overheard came back to him. Whoever it was had been planning to escape, apparently on the Legacy. Hope lifted his chest- they could get away. After they were far enough away from Keres Jim might even get them to take him home.
There was a terrible noise, a blast, the screech of tearing metal. The ship shuddered and jerked violently to one side. Screams erupted from the galley. Whoever these people were, they were being pursued. The ship banked hard to port, sending Jim's stomach to his knees. The Legacy was far too big for a maneuver like that. There was another blast, and this time the ship began to drop. For a few terrifying seconds Jim wondered if he'd survive the crash he knew was coming.
The ship met the ground hard, a deafening crash that seemed to shake him down to his bones. His teeth rattled in his head, screams came from the galley, and the ship continued to quake. Then there was silence. Gunfire. Screams. Jim smelled smoke, heard thunderous voices shouting just outside. They'd been caught.
Jim knew he didn't have a chance. Even before the heavy footsteps approached the locked door. Still he prayed, he begged, that he'd be safe. He'd have sold his soul if it were possible. One of them beat down the door. The towering alien looked around, searching. Jim bit down on his tongue so hard he tasted blood. The alien got down on the floor to peer under the shelves, and saw him. He reached for the boy, his massive hand clamping down on Jim's arm and dragging him out from under the shelf. Jim struggled, trying to fight. He kicked out, raked his nails over the alien's skin, but all of it was in vain. On the deck, there were dozens of aliens. Their skin was pale, their eyes brilliant shades of blues, greens, even purple. They must've been who had stolen away on the ship. There were mothers and children in the crowd, some were holding crying babies. The alien holding onto Jim relaxed his grip fir a split second and Jim tore away from him. He'd only made it five steps before he was jerked backward by the neckline of his shirt and hoisted into the air. The hulking aliens were rounding the smaller ones up, dragging even more from below deck. Jim's captor looked to one of his friends.
"Don't recognize this one."
"Ah think 'e was wit th' terran crew. Musta ran off wit th' slaves." Another replied. The word echoed in Jim's head. Slaves. So that was why they were trying to steal a ship. They had been trying to escape, just like him.
The darker, stronger aliens continued to scour the ship, dragging up every slave they could find. When they'd seemed to have cornered all of them, one woman was dragged forward. Her skin was a soft grayish blue, and her silver hair was braided back, exposing her pointed ears. Her eyes were a burning gold, and shaped like almonds. They were elves.
"You've been nothing but a pain in the ass." One of the captors spat at her. "Well that ends now, you wretched cunt." An older woman began to scream, desperately pleading for them to spare the rebel, to take her instead. The captors ignored her, and the few others who dared speak up. The rest of them watched in solemn silence.
Jim could only watch, frozen, as the two aliens held the elven woman between them. A third approached her, his polished blade gleaming in the light of the moon. She held her head high, refusing to cower or beg for her life, her venomous glare unrelenting. The blade was plunged into her neck, a sick, wet gurgling noise sending shivers down his spine. He tried to turn his head away, but his captor grabbed his jaw and forced him to watch as her blood began to flood from the wound and from her mouth, trailing down her quivering body and pooling around her feet, staining the deck. She gagged, spraying scarlet as she choked. He stared as the life slowly drained from her eyes.
Everything was a blur after that. He heard the voices of the taller aliens and the angry shouting of their captives, but it was muffled and muted, sounding far away. He felt himself being dragged off of the Legacy and onto another smaller ship, but he didn't struggle or fight. His legs fumbled for balance, numb and heavy and weak. Somewhere in his mind he knew they were taking him back. He just couldn't bring himself to care.
Leather cord bit into his skin as it was pulled tight around his wrists. One of the slavers held onto him as the small schooner headed back to the docks, a few others close behind. Jim's gaze wandered back to the nearly destroyed Legacy, her haul ripped open by the jagged cliffs. A small mountain of gold shimmered in the moonlight, spilling into the chasm below.
note- sorry this took forever, i had some second thoughts about the plot. This was going to have a lot more in it but its been awhile since I updated so I'll put it in the next chapter. Reviews are love