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Lacuna Blue

By Mantrid Brizon

Chapter Eighteen: Anesthesia

Sitting in his captain’s chair two days later, the Zebrina exits the warp bubble. There has been no word of the Governor Parr since their escape, and the rest of the Slavers have been unable to communicate with the ship. Entering the ice field, the Zebrina hails Lagos Depot from a distance. Suddenly, a ship emerges from its own warp bubble, and only moments later. Quickly scanning the ship that’s within range, it is the Governor Parr. Immediately hailing the vessel, they receive no response.

With moderate damage to the ship’s systems, they know only that someone is alive and controlling the craft, but do not know exactly who. Could several police officers have boarded and stolen the craft, and this is an attempt to paint Lagos Depot for later assault? If James can consider that possibility, after the report he sent to Lagos, surely the other Slavers have as well. James’ V.I. bracelet suddenly begins to ring. Lifting up his wrist, he does not recognize the number, but the fact that he is receiving a call at all, without satellites, is a shocking fact. He answers the call.

“... Hello?”

“I’m glad you answered!” Michael’s voice chirps.

“Well, these don’t typically work in space, so... What happened?”

“Used an old relay on board as a signal booster so I could call you direct. Drift too far and this call will drop. We barely made it out. Ship’s damaged and my comms are down. I need you to hail us into Lagos so that we can repair.” Michael explains.

“Sure. You can dock first.” James replies.

True to his word, he hails Lagos Depot for the Governor Parr and explains their status, allowing them first entry. After an unusually long and nerve-wracking wait, the Zebrina finally takes her turn. Coming in slowly, she passes the first door and then the second, waiting for the airlock to pressurize. Passing the third door, the ship hovers toward the third of eight landing pads built in the shape of an octagon, with a large elevator in the center where cargo and ships can be moved for storage or repair. Down below and near the Bannockburn’s landing gear, Michael is already speaking with George.

Landing their ship, the crew can finally relax, safe in the sanctuary of their hidden base. Quickly exiting by way of the cargo lift, a crew awaits to collect the supplies needed to continue the interior construction of the space station. Heading for the Bannockburn, James can see Michael returning to his ship. A door opens in the background as a team of Scrapper engineers emerge to inspect the Governor Parr, in preparation for her repairs.

“Hey, bro! It’s good to see you!” George exclaims, embracing his brother. “I knew you’d make it out.”

“Barely.” James mutters.

“You’re too tough to die, man. And I know you don’t want to go back to jail.” George chuckles.

James pushes away from his brother’s grasp.

“This isn’t funny man! That was too close, and I want to see my kids again someday, God damnit!” James growls.

“Hey, this just comes with the territory. We provide a very unique and profitable service that’s highly frowned upon; sometimes shit happens.” George retorts.

“Shit hap... I’m your brother! What would you have done if I’d have died or been arrested?!”

“Mourned or broken you out, respectively.” George calmly answers.

“How can you be so casual about this?!” James asks in shock.

“I’ve accepted what this is; we live in a world of chaos that is entirely beyond our capability to command. Do your best and look ahead, since that’s all you can do. Realize that and man up. I didn’t hear Michael complaining.” George responds.

“Michael? That piece of demented shit?! I’ve just... No... You know what? Fuck it! I’m going back to Zebrina.”

“Well, I’m having sky dust loaded for your next run in a few days.” George remarks.

“... What?” James stares blankly.

“Before you get pissed at me, Mr. Irving set it up. It goes right back to Earth.”

“You want me to just keep going like nothing happened? What the fuck, man!” James yells.

“Nothing did happen. You’re right here, so stop being a little bitch.”

Feeling as though George is disregarding his feelings entirely, or the fact that his life was very nearly halted or snuffed out by police blaster fire, he steps back before turning and walking away.

“James... James, come back! I’m sorry!” George calls out.

“Fuck you!” James snaps, without looking back.

Returning to his ship, he uses the hatch to climb aboard, as the cargo lift remains down. Workers are loading painted aluminum pallets with haphazardly disguised sacks of sky dust shrink wrapped onto them. With many logos and brand names on the sacks, each will be distributed to mid-level dealers as packaged food or baking materials, only to then be divided amongst their foot soldiers in conventional packaging. It is a method of disguise that only works at a glance, and then only just.

Returning to his cabin, James looks for the flask of emergency whiskey. Finding the metal container, he is dismayed to find the hip flask empty. Only after a moment of thought does he remember drinking it long before he finished his initial bottle; he emptied it while out drinking with his crew one day, weeks earlier. James merely forgot to refill the small bottle after the fact. Tossing the flask aside, his hand tremors. He struggles with the things he has seen and done, hoping for any other escape that will ease the torment in his mind.

He finds himself recalling his time with Kristen the day of the escape, only to immediately feel even worse for considering repeating the act. Though he isn’t interested in her, not being attracted to her race, she is still a sentient being with feelings; shame washes over him for even thinking of using her in such a callous manner. Driven into depression, he lay atop his bed and stares at the ceiling. Eyes welling with tears, he wonders if perhaps he deserves this. After all, everything that has happened, when he dwells upon it, leads back to him.

As James loses himself in his dark thoughts, his V.I. bracelet suddenly chirps. It could only be someone else using the station’s network. Sitting upright and answering the call, Michael’s voice speaks to him.

“Hey, James.”

“Hi.” James murmurs.

“I just wanted to, mmm, say thanks.”

“Thanks for what?”

“Thanks for help-”

“Please, stop...” A female voice whimpers, interrupting Michael.

“Shut up, damn you!” Michael snarls.

An audible beep is heard before the woman screams in agony. James’ arm shakes subtly and lowers to his side. Hanging his head, his breath trembles as he sits in silence. He need not ask what is happening on the other line; he’s thankful that Michael chose not to use the base’s servers to place a video call. After a shrill scream, the woman gasps and pants for breath, recovering from a powerful electrical charge from a collar, identical in form and function to that worn by his male slave.

“Sorry about that.” Michael chuckles. “I’m breaking in my new slave, and I didn’t have to pay for her!”

“Pluh... Please... I... I have a family... Kids...” She meekly croaks.

“The fuck? Bad!” Michael snarls.

After another prolonged shock, James can hear the tacky sound of repair tape being pulled from a roll. With his bracelet worn on his wrist, he can hear the pulling, tearing and smooshing of the tape over the woman’s mouth.

“Better! Where was I? Oh, right! Nng, shit... Ahhh... Thanks for helping me earlier. I’d probably be, nng, rubble right now if you, mmm, hadn’t helped me... Yeah...” Michael groans, a faint plopping noise and whimpering audible in the background. “Mmm, I owe you one, James! Yeah...”

With that, the call abruptly ends. James sits in horrified silence knowing that Michael is so casually enjoying his new slave. Clenching his teeth, his head bobs as he leans forward. James silently cries, resting his face in his upturned palms, before lying on his side. In his mind, the screams of victims’ echo. Morphing into a cacophony of despair, he is left weeping for every soul he’s destroyed, a guilt crushing him as if he were lying beneath Lagos Depot itself.

“What’s wrong, little bear?” May asks George as they walk through Lagos Depot’s halls. “You haven’t been acting yourself.”

“I’m sorry, I just... I have a lot on my mind.” He sighs sorrowfully.

“Like what?” She cutely asks, racing ahead and standing before him.

Stopping in his tracks, George looks down at the white and black striped fur of the feline Voeldahn. Gazing into her big blue eyes, she cocks her head, her black and blue streaked pigtails swaying. Waiting expectantly for an answer, he merely rests his hands on her shoulders and steps closer. Giving her a tender kiss upon her lips, he pulls her in and embraces her, holding his lover tightly and nuzzling her face.

“I love you, little bear.” She coos, resting her hands on his back.

“And I love you more.” He replies.

“You can always talk to me. I’m always here for you.” She adds.

“I know...”

“If there’s anything I can do. Anything. Just say it.” She subtly pressures him.

Pulling away, she’s alarmed by the glossy appearance of his tear-filled eyes.

“Baby! Are y-”

“It’s all my fault.” He says with a sniffle.

Swiftly glancing around for possible witnesses, May quickly takes George by the hand and leads him into another room. She immediately locks them into a storage closet to speak privately. Knowing the kind of people who work for them, they can’t allow others to see his show of emotion; any perceived weakness might cause division, which will then need to be dealt with. Sitting George onto a chair designated for an unused desk, May quickly plops herself atop his lap, her legs hanging over one side as she leans against her lover.

“What’s going on, hm? What’s bothering my little bear?” She asks in a sweet and loving tone.

“James. All of this shit that’s happened to him... It’s all my fault.” He whimpers.

“What?” May’s brow rises in surprise.

“The drugs, the slaves, the death of all of those people on Oberon, even his wife cheating on him... It’s all my fault. If I had just said ‘no, fuck you’ when he asked me to deliver that data drive, he’d have been shit out of luck and none of this would have happened. We’d be running cargo, living quietly on our ship and spending our precious time together, never having to look over our shoulders.” He explains, slipping his arms around her waist.

“George, it isn’t your fault. James made all of his choices.”

“But taking that drive led to us doing that run. That run got our feet wet and before we knew it, Marcus was dead and half our original crew left us.” He retorts.

“And those were their choices. Marcus walked out to pick flowers during an illegal deal; you didn’t push him or shoot him. Fiona, Gretsch and Whitley asked to leave. James left his wife to help with Oberon and she chose to cheat on him. Then, when he found out, James chose to abandon you. You are only responsible for what you do, little bear.” She explains.

“So, there’s no ripple effect? This is all just a bunch of shit happening at random? Good people being hurt and dying and bad people handing us credits to make it happen?”

“That’s all it ever was.” She says, stroking his cheek. “You can’t be absorbed by all of the things that they are doing, or the consequences of their actions. Sure, you took a data drive to him and James used it for personal gain. If we use your logic, then it’s all his fault for asking in the first place.”

“What?!” George snickers. “James is too smart for that. I’ve always been the one getting into trouble while he was always the smart one, charming and lying his way out of danger without ever having to raise his hand. He earned a well-paying job while I barely pulled together the Bannockburn. He planned for everything, but I fucked it up by not encrypting that call and digging us into this hole.”

“Everyone makes mistakes. I supported you when we took that first job, and we could have stopped there. That was our fault, but James made his own mistakes; his life isn’t your failure.”

Listening to her, he feels her words spinning a web around his brain. Her logic is undeniable as she speaks, and her warmth and affection press it into his mind, while simultaneously easing all of his pain. Pulling tighter, he snuggles with his Voeldahn lover, nuzzling her soft fur with his nose as she runs her clawed fingers through his hair.

“I just worry about him.” He suddenly remarks.

“Maybe he isn’t cut out for this kind of life?”

“What do you think I should do?” He asks.

“Give him some space. Let him work it out on his own and if he wants out, let him go. He has that ship, he has plenty of credits, and he can hide from the law until the statute of limitations on his charges runs out... Or he could turn himself in and be done with it. Whatever he does, stay or leave, it’s his choice. Let him have it.” She answers.

“Thanks, babe. You’re something special.” He says with a grin.

“Aww, little bear.” She leans in, kissing him passionately. “So are you.”

“I’m just some guy...” He murmurs.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You defended me in a bar when you didn’t even know me, gave me a job on your space ship, showed me respect, and not once did you try to screw me over... Well, at least until I let you.” May winks, before nuzzling his cheek with her snout. “Most humans wouldn’t have even bothered with that first part, let alone all of it.”

“I saw potential in you.”

“Is that all you saw?” She coos, softly kissing his cheek.

“Okay, I admit it... You’re hot, and I didn’t like the idea of you being picked on like that.” He says, stroking her side.

“Most humans aren’t interested in Voeldahn.”

“Well, no accounting for their lack of taste.” George grins. “You could have stayed though; you chose to give me a chance. I think that says even more about you.”

“I don’t know... It’s not every day someone comes out of the woodwork to save me, especially not a dashing space ship captain.”

“I didn’t know you had a human fetish, Ms. Fyre.”

“Who says I do? I’m just open to all of the possibilities.” She says with a grin. “So why don’t we get out of this storage closet and find our quarters now.”

“Sure. Would you like the dashing captain to carry you over the threshold when we get there?” He teases.

“Mmm, that would be nice.” May replies, her hands resting on his shoulders. “But there’s something else I’d like. Perhaps the dashing captain can help me with that too?”

“Anything’s possible.” He winks.

Rising from his lap, she takes him by the hand. As she leads him from the room, her tail swaying, George can’t help but watch the slender Voeldahn woman who walks before him. Her very presence eases his frazzled nerves and soothes the agony within his soul; he takes refuge in her embrace. Watching the woman, he is ever thankful, since if it weren’t for her, he’d have collapsed under the strain not long after Marcus died. They turn a corner, heading toward the recently finished interior for the permanent station staff; it includes the ship crew’s and captain’s quarters.

“Hey guys!” A voice chirps.

“Oh, hey Kira!” May replies, glancing over her shoulder. “What brings you here?”

“Just looking for my room. I assumed that’s what you two were doing?” Kira asks.

“Yeah. We’re going to spend some quality time together in the new house.” George replies.

“Breaking in the bed.” May smirks.

“Mmm, I’d love to help...” Kira softly remarks.

“I beg your pardon?” George asks in surprise.

“Huh?” Kira turns her head.

Snapping out of it, her ice blue eyes widen with horror as she feels herself flush beneath her fur. She had inadvertently thought aloud. May glares while George stares in shock.

“I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t implying... I mean... I-I uh...” She stammers.

“Okay...” George murmurs.

“I think I can handle him on my own.” May confidently and jealously proclaims.

“I know, I-I was... Joking...” Kira stands like a deer in headlights.

Seeing the anger in his partner’s eyes, George rests his hands on her shoulders.

“Now we know who to call when you want to take a break before I’m finished.” He teases.

“Oh, so you think you can handle two of us?” May glances back to him. “I’m already a handful.”

“Are you saying I can’t?” He asks defensively.

“Actually, I’d rather help May...” Kira winks.

“Well, there goes my ego.” George remarks.

After sharing an awkward laugh, the three part ways; George and May continue their walk while Kira lags behind, keeping her distance.

“She wasn’t kidding, you know...” May says quietly to George.

“I know, but you can’t fault her for it... You are hot.”

“Thanks, little bear, but I didn’t mean that. If I leave you alone with her she’ll probably rape you.”

“You think so?” He asks nonchalantly.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one who can do that.” May growls lustfully.

“Oh my...”

“Damnit, Kira.” She murmurs to herself. “I can’t believe you said that out loud... This is going to make work so awkward now. Note to self: Don’t ever tell George or May you’d sleep with them again. God, I hope some else is having a better day right now.”

Sitting at his desk aboard his ship, James stares at the flat surface. Dried tears streak his face and lead away from his bloodshot eyes. For the last hour he’s weighed his options, of which he believes he only has two. There’s no way he can leave and risk capture; he’ll serve too much time and miss out on his children’s lives. Aside from that, his crew will most likely be imprisoned alongside him, and that isn’t fair to them. Without a way back, James looks at the two objects atop the desk.

Back and forth he glances between the artifacts, each with their own merits. With the pain cutting deeply, his conscience is simply too loud for him to continue this career path. The moans of the wife and mother as she suffered an unspeakable fate at Michael’s hands, and in the ship adjacent, was more than he could bear. Compounded with the horrors he’s seen and the lives he’s ruined, he reaches out for the item resting on the desk and to his right. With a hand hovering over it, his eyes water and his fingers coil; he is too afraid. Looking at the artifact to his left, his takes a deep breath.

“Alright... Just to take the edge off...” He thinks aloud.

After a brief pause to squash his fears, he leans forward, snorting the light blue line of powder from the table. As the sky dust takes effect, he throws his head back, his arms extending and knocking the armed and ready blaster to the floor by his right foot. Pupils dilating, he feels an incredible rush that banishes all fears and silences his conscience. Taking long and drawn out breaths, James turns his wide eyes to the weapon on the floor. No longer does he plan on using it on himself. Picking up the weapon, he sighs with relief and holsters it on his hip.

“Well now.” He says through labored breaths. “Maybe I’m onto something...”