Homeward
04 Feb 2018Viridian
Commander Viridian stared through her cabin's window, her green eyes unblinking, at the station name painted on the opposite wall."You'll do what I tell you."
Illy Port was a nearby outpost that had become a second home. After making a few connections, credits were becoming a faint problem. Nightshade was always serviced without much of a wait and she could get a drink that was strong enough to grease the joints on her multi-cannons and to numb away her mind.
They used a jack this time. The thick, hard leather cracked against her face, sending a pain so deep into her bones that she felt nauseous. It only took two hits before she collapsed on her knees.
The station manager, Violette Pace, enjoyed many of those drinks with her. She appreciated Pace's no nonsense to management and that she could best any of the other commanders who came into the station with a look alone. She was an older woman, with eyes just as discerning as hers, and she saved her the headache of asking her personal questions, such as where she came from or what her actual name was.
He pulled back her hair, gripping the shoulder length strands into his thick, calloused fingers. Her head reared back and her broken cheek throbbed as she looked up at him, gasping for breath through each throb of pain.
Viridian looked over at her navigation panel. She flicked through the screen until she found the nav point. Tapping the screen once began a series of whirs and grunts from her ship as the platform began to turn and lift onto the top of the outpost. Blackened sky surrounded her with a dusting of stars.
Her cabin filled with static and a female voice filtered in through all the distortion. "You're clear for launch. Thank you for your visit, Commander."
Viridian's fingers curled around the throttle as she tilted the narrow nose of Nightshade upwards. She was hard on the ship, pushing the engines to their limits as soon as she left mass lock. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the beacon in the distance.
"Do you understand me, slave?"
As she approached the beacon, she looked over at her navigation panel. Ship contacts flickered across the screen and she looked out her window as she twisted her wrist on the stick. Her scanner was in constant motion, flickering from one hologram of nearby vessels to the next. Anger started to fill her as she flicked through each hologram. "Clean, clean," she said quietly.
"Yes," she said, looking up at him. He would have probably been an attractive man to anyone, but his hawkish nose and gray eyes filled her with both disgust and terror. Her stomach flipped at the sight of his face and her skin crawled at the sound of his voice.
The scanner displayed a hologram of an Eagle MK II. "Clean," she uttered again, and her finger curled around the trigger.
"Good," he said, his face lowering to hers. His voice softened and she turned her face away. "Now get up and do what I fucking told you to do."
Her chest heaved as she stared at the ship. She could see him in that chair, staring at her. Smiling as he frightened her, smiling as he used all sorts of instruments to cause her body pain whenever she did even the smallest motion that displeased him. Smiling as he hid her away from others, to do what he willed to her. She was a slave; there was no such thing as compassion or kindness.
Tears filled her eyes, burning her skin as she began to breathe heavily. She increased speed and targeted the Eagle. Her multi-cannons rose from their chambers and she put the ship in her sights just as her vision started to blur.
The pressure of her index finger fell upon the trigger, but not enough to send the first bullet flying when her cabin filled with a masculine voice. "Hello, commander."
The tears cleared and she looked portside through her cabin window. The Federal Corvette was easy to miss amongst the blackness of space, but she could almost see him in the cockpit. She dropped her speed to a sudden stop, turning her ship so that their windows faced each other. Her fingers slid from the stick and she sat back in the chair. "Commander Acroci," she said, her voice thick.
"What're you up to?" he asked, his tone neither kind nor cruel.
"Bounty hunting," she said.
"That Eagle doesn't have a bounty on it."
Her voice failed her a moment, as well as her usually prepared pile of lies. "Yeah," she finally said, "I see that."
"I've looked around and there isn't much here to hunt," Acroci said. "Though I think some combat training would be good today."
"What do you suggest, Commander?"
"Come home, Vi."
Home. She had lost track of when Commander Acroci had found her, brought her into the fold of the Rogue Commanders Navy, and gave her a place to call her own. He had spent so much time training her, honing skills she didn't know she had. She could never recall when his tone was sharp or impatient. When she expected his harshness when she made mistakes, he confused her perpetually with his kindness, calling such things as "learning opportunities."
And yet, her trust of him waxed and waned like a rising moon. Either he knew that, or he didn't care how the young pilot saw him.
"Crow," she said. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," he said. "Ready to go when you are."