Trade ships could be as different as the species that crewed them.
Colors, sizes, and layouts... all of these varied widely depending on where you traveled. Generally speaking, practical designs were preferred on the interior. The more uniform and utilitarian the better for business when it came to selling such vessels. With thousands of species potentially looking to buy, keeping things close to the average helped the process along. But when it came to details on the exterior, a ship-designers creativity might truly have a chance to shine.
Even for ships that did their business in atmosphere, without orbital elevator stations: being aerodynamic wasn't ever a huge priority. When it came down to the nitty-gritty details, most agreed that the ship's shields generally made up for whatever in-atmosphere trading might need to take place, and an FTL drive was usually more than enough power to get where one needed to go.
So, you can imagine that many designs often held an artistic flourish. Where beauty and style might stand out, to set a trade vessel apart from all the rest.
Yitale's ship was not one such vessel.
It was a gray, giant, rectangular black. A huge and bulky thing made for large hauls of cargo, and then cramming more into the random extra spaces.
Despite that, her ship was her pride and joy, and it was putting it lightly to say that the ship was worth more to her than her own life. While still a technological wonder that could accelerate past the speed of light, the heavy freighter ran on older technology than most of it's fellow vessels. On it's journeys in the expanse between worlds, a massive FTL driver- 57th generation, was what pushed the bulky thing onward in a constant increase of speed before obtaining enough inertia to trigger the smaller secondary FTL boost. Technically, single FTL drivers could do this on their own, but Yitale was holding the ship together by means of recycled discount parts, owed favors, blood, sweat, and tears.
All of those, and the efforts of her crew.
A ship's crew was a family, not by blood, but by the literal nature of their career. When you were stuck in a confined space with others for a long trip, you either got off on the next port or you learned to live with them. Considering the line of work was stressful and dangerous at times, learning to live with your fellow crew generally meant forming strong bonds. To leave a crew was to leave a family that had chosen you as much as you had chosen it.
Something which tended to come naturally for non-carnivorous species. Forming a community, or a "herd" as it were.
That made the pain and hurt all the worse when Yitale thought of those who had left. Hit after hit, it slammed into her. Those who had ended their contracts had made it abundantly clear that she was not the shipmaster they had joined to follow, and that she could never hope to be.
Of the original crew, almost half had left, putting in their resignation to leave for other vessels. They had picked strangers over Yitale, and that was truly a stinging blow that kept her up some rotations simply wondering if she could have done something differently, achieved something better.
She never could give herself a solid answer. Even her best options seemed to lead to ruin, no matter what she did. Jobs and routine work dried up quickly, and while she was thankful for those who stayed, she had to wonder if the others had been right to leave. Things had certainly been better on board the freighter.
Originally her crew had been a mix of species. Most of whom had been gathered under the steady allegiance of her partner, just as she had. They had been individuals of talent and skill, and all of them had been drawn to him, as if his personality held a pulling force akin to gravity. The crew that had followed him had been held loyal to the ship by the simple density of his leadership and presence.
But now he was gone.
In his absence was a vacuum she alone could not fill.
She was a fighter, not a leader. Having left the military to join the crew dozens of cycles ago, she had adapted to her role, but she was far from born into it. While her partner had gathered the crew, and lead them with that spark few shipmaster's could ever hope to obtain- she had protected them from the mundane. She handled the money, maintained security, and dealt with the paperwork. He had given them a path, she had made sure they kept to it. She had been the realist who backed the brave, but she had never been person in charge.
Not truly, anyways.
It was times such as this that she grew envious of her younger self all those cycles ago, before she bonded her life to another for emotion and family. Military service may have been dangerous, but there was much less to worry over. The Guild had it right:
Everything in life was a trade.
...
His neck tingled with casual pin pricks, caressing the skin and nerves beneath. It didn't hurt, but it brought the man's attention to the direction a majority of sensations seemed to coalesce. He couldn't ignore it, and felt strongly as though he shouldn't.
Above his head, staring down from the balcony, was an alien. Actually, it was the alien.
Her.
The one with the strange scaled coat. Nearby there were others, many dressed in the uniforms which marked their roles on the ship. Their solemn stares all focused down on him in silence, none of the usual melodic conversations could be heard.
He had seen a variety of them while in his captivity, but never so many at once since his purchase. Unlike the crowd during that spectacle, most shared the same species, and none of them were clothed in the same manner as the one meeting his gaze. With the scaled cloak, the one who had collared him was the only one who wore anything that made her stand out from the rest at all. Along the perimeter he turned slightly to see what resembled armor had been placed on the perimeter balcony, with large insulating pieces that interlocked in a strange fashion. Space suits of some kind, perhaps?
He wondered how he knew that, as he scanned the crowd and searched for his nightly visitor in white. Perhaps she was here as well?
The collar began to grow painful, and his eyes snapped back to the cloaked figure. He met her blank gaze with curiosity as he awkwardly smiled and raised a hand in a short wave. That gaze seemed to widened, and the tension in his collar rose to more painful levels in a quick pulse causing him to jump up instinctively. It was like he had been burned, or sprayed by some hot steam, and his sudden panic threw him dramatically far away, in an effort to escape.
Catching his balance and rubbing his neck, the man turned back to face his captors. Once again he heard the murmuring songs of astonishment, and fear. For whatever reason, when he moved quickly the aliens found reason to talk about it. The one with the cape, though, silenced it with a single note. The rest of the group went back to total silence in a heartbeat.
She was in charge then. He supposed that made sense. The cloak probably signified something of leadership, or rank.
And, it seemed she lead by example, as well.
Cloak trailing, she seemed to glide as she walked with perfect grace to the elevator in the corner and pressed her hand to a pad on the wall. There, alone, she rode the platform smoothly down to his level, leaving the others behind to watch. The man thought he recognized one of the smaller figures who made a move as if to follow, but was held in place by another.
Movement above drew attention away from the interaction and back to the center of the balcony where the cloaked figure had stood before. Taking her place on the bridge, another alien had appeared. He, or it, was of a similar build to the guards who had shocked him, and it leveled what seemed like a rifle on the railing. The device pulsed in a shallow light along what appeared to be a barrel, and it's color changed from a light green to a deeper red.
Slowly the man put his hands above his head. There was very little that made sense in his current situation, or if he was going to be honest with himself, very little that made sense even in his past few periods of consciousness; but he knew what to do now. He wasn't going to move, not one damn inch.
...
As Yitale walked steadily towards the beast it seemed to ignore her and fall into a strange position, its upper limbs raised. Perhaps an aggressive posture to make it seem larger and more dangerous. She tried to read further into it, but could only find that it almost seemed to be intentionally looking away from her. It was looking past her, to her right. As she quickly stole a glance she saw her bridge steward pointing a light rifle at the beast, with a glassy eyed stare of challenge.
Ah, so that was it. The beast must have seen one before, and was frightened.
“Good.” She thought as she approached. With any luck, that would make this easier.
“You are mine beast.” She sang as she lightly touched her wrist. The beast trembled but did not move. Those strange eyes turned towards her, looking more directly. "Submit." She lightly touched her wrist again.
It flinched in pain, but didn't move.
She inspected the creature.
It was unbelievably intimidating close up. From far away in the containments of the auction, she'd thought it was small and meek, but that was just in comparison to the other creatures that had been set beside it. Standing across from here now, she could see that it dwarfed even the tallest of her species, and knew was built with a solid weight. Syzah had told her of the scans from it's decontamination, and she thought of the bones which lay under that bulk, enforced with calcium to have a strength that rivaled metal alloys.
She couldn't believe the creature lacked identification. Perhaps it had been found and captured as the result of some strange and exotic hunt within the inner systems.
But none of that mattered now.
Yitale sang in a fiercer tone, as she adjusted the threshold on her wrist again, trying to hide her discomfort. Under it's strange skin muscles attached to those bones seemed to ripple with tension as it took in slow, deep, breathes.
“You will cause no harm to those of this ship. You will stay here until you die defending it and myself, just as all beasts of the ship have done before you.” She paused. It was now that she would normally try to establish some mental effect through the connection, but she wasn't certain anything about this creature was normal.
In fact, it was baring its teeth, now. Thick, white, teeth...
She pushed harder on the bracelet upon her wrist.
“You will obey me. On or off of this ship, in all things.” She pushed caution aside and began to press the mental link. "You will obey."
The beast shook, pain visible now, it curled it's limps to reveal some of those white teeth seemed to have a pointed edge. It's native diet had likely subsided on more than just organic protein matter presented to it while on her ship. Not purely carnivorous, but certainly not purely herbivorous either. Tension seemed to erupt from it as it clenched muscles together.
Would the collar be enough? The light rifle behind her was some comfort, but perhaps she should have armed more than just the single steward.
That thought floated in the background as she focused her link with the beast. The creature was strong. By now, Yitale had no doubts. This beast must have come from a planet with gravity far greater then that of her own home world. There were scars riddled its body, and a large one rested at it's throat, and she knew that where it hailed from must have been incredibly violent to have caused such wounds.
But she needed an asset. Not a liability.
It was now or never. She would have to take a risk.
While it wasn't safe in the slightest, she knew it was her best option. Whatever primal instincts drove this creature, she would need to establish herself above them. Yitale had to break it now, establish the link, and make it submit. Only then would she be certain her crew and spawn would be safe.
She twisted the brace on her wrist as far as it would go and shouted her words, half in bravery, half in terror as the creature seemed to spasm in reaction:
“You will obey me!”
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The creature opened it's jaws and threw its head back, as if to bellow, but no song sang from it lips. No cry, no bellow, no scream.
As she stared at it, holding her brace, it lowered its head, and brought it's eyes back to hers. Liquid ran from them, and drops fell to the floor. Was it bleeding? Bleeding from it's eyes? It was defiant to the point of blood, to not sing out and admit defeat, it would rather bleed.
Her own eyes widened as it moved, slowly, each pulling tension within it's body a concentrated effort. It took a single step towards her. Then another.
Yitale held the bracelet to it's maximum position, the collar on the beast next would be issuing enough pain to cripple anything she had seen or heard of in her lifetime, perhaps even kill; but the creature was withstanding, and it was coming closer. Gaining ground in slow, but dedicated rhythm of steps, it advanced.
She held her ground, panic or retreat would cause this whole effort to have been a waste. That said, it wasn't even a unit from her, and it's bleeding eyes stared as they dripped the clear fluid down it's strange skin to land at their feet.
Yitale fought the urge to scream. It was more than a beast, it was a nightmare. Why had she ever thought it docile?
It reached for her.
A crack rang out in the hanger, the sound of a shot being fired. The beast spun backwards to land on it's side, it's limb clenched in pain. She turned to see her steward preparing to fire again, popping another light round into the weapon.
“You are not to interfere!” She sang, the room reverberating in her anger, covering her fear with authority. She turned and advanced towards the steward in cold rage, even 10 units below him she could see how he seemed to deflate under her gaze. “That beast is to be the guardian of this ship, cost me a small fortune, and you would risk seriously injuring it during it's first training?” Her fear was entirely gone now, she was truly furious. The creature was wounded, and would likely be skittish now. That would make it more difficult to establish a link and tame. She was certain uninterrupted she could have bonded the beast if it had not been for-
“Shipmaster behind you!” Yitale barely had time to turn and realize her mistake before it was upon her.
...
Syzah had been there when his father was killed. He remembered in terrible detail the Five-tailed Spitter which his father had tried to tame, and he remembered it's violent rampage afterwards. His father had been too ambitious, and it had cost him. He had managed to succeed in stalling the beast long enough for it to be put down, but by then the damage had been done.
Syzah had not be strong enough to do anything but watch. His song was not yet formed when it had occurred, but he swore he would never let it happen again.
The shot had been true, striking the limb of the beast as it made motion to reach his mother, but it had not been as effective as expected. As Yitale had turned from the ship-beast, it had continued to watch her with dedicated purpose, as it held it's wound. The creature was still bleeding from it's eyes but it's skin was not pieced. Only a slight burn seemed to indicate it had just been shot by a light-rifle.
It was merely astonished.
Surprised.
There were very few creatures that could shrug off such a hit. To do so meant a dermal layer unheard of in any of the civilized worlds, which meant this was a creature from a quarantined planet. Something they were absolutely not equipped for.
Syzah barely had time to shout warning.
What happened next belied intelligence of a predator, as it had reacted the instant it recognized attention was elsewhere. and that the rifle was of no further threat. It had the shipmaster pinned before anyone could react, and her scream curdled Syzah's blood. It had cleared the distance with a single lunge.
The beast that leapt upon his mother was fast, and it was strong, but Syzah thought of none of these things as he leapt from the walkway down to the cargo bay floor and rolled with the landing to come up in a dead sprint. His mother was pinned, the creatures limbs holding hers down as if her struggles were nothing. Another shot rang out and hit the beast in the back, but only a small singe remained as evidence. That weapon was useless against it, and the beast would kill her if they couldn't stop it soon, Syzah was certain.
Singing a song of battle he crashed into the side of the beast, and unleashed upon it with all of his might. His blows fell from it as though he was hitting the walls of the ship. It was heavy: solid in weight that did not appear possible considering it's relative size and he was having no effect on it at all. He prepared all his force into a kick which landed him on his tail, and another shot rang out. That was the last one, light-rifle rounds were expensive and the ship had never needed to issue more than three to any crew member per trip.
His mother sang a quiet song of pain, as Syzah rose to try once more. Only to fail. He screamed frustration at the beast, as he watched his mother struggle uselessly beneath it. Not again, he wouldn't let this happen again. Throwing himself on the beast's back he gripped it's neck with all his force, lashing at it with his tail like a whip. He would save her, he had to save her.
Suddenly he felt himself rise as the beast lifted up, away from his mother. He felt a solid grip clench his limbs as if he were made of rubber. The monster had turned on him and was lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing. He felt his tail begin to swish in panic, its flailing only unsettling him more. He was going to die, he was going to-
He was set gently on his feet.
Syzah opened his pale blue eyes and found the creature standing before him with a calm expression. It moved its jaw as if to sing, but no sound came out. With a slow motion, it stepped back and away from the him, and turned to glance at Yitale. She warily was rising to her feet, her tail swishing in discomfort and pain, but not agony. As she rose she reached for her wrist, but gasped in shock. Though not visible from a distance, the brace that had rested on her arm was completely shattered. All along it, cracks riddled though the silver material.
Behind them the elevator dropped to allow several more of the crew down to their level, each dressed in mechanized armor meant for use in cargo lifting: an impromptu effort of rescue that had arrived too late. They warily approached and waited for their orders and Yitale rose fully to her feet. The apparent danger was over, and they were reluctant to approach the creature without cause.
The beast turned to shipmaster then, and met her confused gaze. Clear blood still ran from it's eyes as it blinked slowly. It concentrated as it moved it's limps and raised a five membered hand to it's scarred throat. Air fell from its chest in long bursts as it repeated a quiet song which Syzah could barely make out. It sounded of sadness.
...
As the others slowly backed away he felt the weight of what had just occurred hit like a ton of bricks. The pain he had just endured had not been ignored or avoided, only temporarily held at bay. Reacting to a huge rush of adrenaline, he had rode the rush until it had all come to a sudden stop. Only after the man had broken that horrible bracelet could he risk coming back into his own mind.
There was something almost human about these Aliens, and that had brought the violent outburst to a crashing halt just as quickly as it had started. The youth protecting it's elder, the reckless bravery of a child protecting it's mother. He knew what it was. Somehow he knew what it was.
He would have gladly killed them, he knew. But at the same time, all he had wanted was for the pain to stop, and once it had, it was as if his mind had returned to him.
And all he felt was horror.
He didn't want to hurt them. Not truly. What good would that do him? No, if he wanted anything, he simply wanted to go home.
To go home...
The cold metal felt like ice as he lay upon the floor. Where was he? Where was his home?
He had so many questions, but the man lacked even a voice to ask them.
...
Death hung in the air on the raiding ship Graz, or perhaps that was just the captain catching a whiff of himself. He hadn't washed in a decontamination unit for at least half a cycle, and his odor was repugnant. To Zort though, the air smelled of success and prosperity. As his many limbs swaggered in confidence down the hall from his personal cabin, he could detect the scent of frying meat wafting over even the strongest of odors. Success, prosperity, and fresh meat- there was little better to the life of a raider.
The ship Graz wasn't a pretty thing, and in fact, by pretty much even his lowest standards it was one of the ugliest ships Zort had ever laid eyes on. But, lay them he did, all ten of them. While it might be an ugly ship, but this was his ugly ship, and it was going to make him and his crew rich beyond their wildest dreams.
After abandoning their collective career in the mercenary unit of the 23rd quadrant military, they had been hard pressed at first. The front lines had been terrible in their own right, but they always had food. Without the military order and rations, they soon found themselves resorting to their primal ways. Cut-throat cannibalism, and ruthlessly hungry carnivorous rage. Any ship that could be boarded, was, and serious losses had befallen them by the time Zort took command and straightened things out.
Zort liked to think that it was under his guidance that the crew had discovered their innate talent as pirates.
The period of disorder had weeded out their weaker counterparts, and they became more and more effective at picking their targets, and striking with swift ambushes in to vital moments of vulnerability. No longer did they jump at any and every vessel, Zort held them in tight restraint. His self-control was quite rare to their kind, but it served them well. It was almost strange how successful the military shock squads could invade defenseless civilian vessels under proper guidance...
Zort chuckled in a gurgling voice which rumbled from his chest cavity.
Strange indeed.
He was a Sikka. His species was one of the strongest intelligent life forms in the Union, physically and mentally. Typically, when a species gained interstellar space travel, they grew weaker. Natural side-effects that came with resisting artificial gravity in place of a true world's pull. Such was hardly a comparison to the real thing unless you delegated a large portion of the engine's function to the task: but his people had a different muscle structure than most. Despite now being spacefaring, they remained the same in strength over thousands of years, and hundreds of generations, which meant they were disturbingly strong comparatively to the masses. They were close to physically identical to their predatory lineage, which was exactly why they had been trained as shock and awe boarding troops.
Fighting in space was a unique niche. As with most warfare, the goal was to incapacitate the enemy in entirety. Unlike most warfare, there were serious rules respected by both parties. Weapons for use in space were far different than those of planetary warfare. Not only were ships tremendously expensive, they were self contained environments. To pierce a hull was to doom the one who did it, and for that reason most weapons had evolved to fill a niche where that didn't occur. Certainly there were still the occasional weapons meant for utter destruction, but for gaining control of a vessel? Weapons of finesse and skill. Special light pulse rounds, blades, sonic bursts, all weapons dangerous to flesh but not to hulls. These were the weapons which could take a ship and its cargo with minimal damage, and these paired with shock troops were tremendously effective.
That training had prepared Zort and his crew well for a life of piracy. For the past three cycles they had lead the Graz on several successful bouts of armed robbery. Flying to intercept the farthest lying trade paths of the outer sectors, they had caught, taken, maimed, and destroyed. In that order, generally speaking, though often enough it could be switched up for the situation. Many factors were at play, but the truth was simple; it depended on how hungry the crew was, and how precious their taget's cargo.
The Graz was equipped with what Zort liked to refer to as the “injector.” It shot out a long extendable airlock that could be used to pierce into a targeted ship and establish a forced entry point. It was also equipped with top of the line military force cloaking tech, some of which had come with the renegade mercenaries, and the rest of which Zort had purchased off the illegal market for the price equivalent of three large trade ships. It didn't matter though, because in the long term this thing had paid for itself.
No survivors meant no witnesses, and in the far out reaches of space: no witnesses mean nobody would ever find you. Zort loved that almost as much as he loved being rich.
Getting away from justice gave him a thrill greater than biting into prey as it was still alive: Invigorating.
From his seat at the bridge, he watched his crew of cutthroats as they bustled about. All were the same species as Zorg. Sikka, like himself: long armed and sleek, they were covered in warty skin which coated their six limbs. Many wore light rifles with a casual indifference, and some even had blades made of assorted material. They were all bonafide murdering scum, and they all loved their jobs as much as Zort.
A loud beeping drew his attention to the scanner above his seat, and a smile cracked across his long, toothy jaw. A trading vessel was taking the long route to sector seven, and they were going to cruise right within reach of the Graz. Zort laughed in short barks, which silenced the bridge in seconds. The pirates turned their multi-eyed faces to his own. Quiet obedience prevalent within the hull of the Graz. They waited for the words, they waited for permission. He waited and let their tension build as their many limbs began to twitch in eagerness. Finally, when they seemed almost ready to explode upon one another rather than wait another moment, Zort spoke. His gurgling voice magnified as it echoed off of the bridge
“Soon we will feast.”
...
Yitale sat at the bridge and stared at her wrist, under the partial protection of her scaled cloak. Her other hand shifted through the pale blue hair on her head. She could have died, just as recklessly her partner had cycles before. She could have died, her guts ripped from her body, and her limbs in pieces on the floor...
But she hadn't.
Glancing at the sleeping form of Syzah to her right, brought a song of pride to her throat. His head rested on the shoulder of his sister Sonat, who was also asleep. She had been on the bridge maintaining order during the attack, and the crew had sung highly of her. They were her pride. Her legacy on the stars. They were her motivation.
As she stared at her wrist, the crew bustled around the bridge, singing their songs of work, their graceful forms fluid and relieved. The beast had not harmed the shipmaster or her young. The beast had peacefully stopped resisting, and as far as they knew, Yitale and Syzah together had broken it. A strong guardian beast was on it's way to becoming part of the ship in a way, and the crew was happy for it. Trader superstition aside, a strong ship-beast was a point of pride, for it in turn showed a strong shipmaster. These were all good things in the eyes of a crew, and these things could bring them more than simple luck.
Money.
Credits.
It all came down to costs. Her species was long lived, compared to most, and was prided on taking safe and strategic steps. She had broken from that mold in desperation, but as all gambles and investments, it was a huge risk. Acquire a ship-beast, train it, use it to her advantage when parlaying for the best offer, or keep in for protection in the worst case scenario. Such a thing could bring wealth and status back to her ship and to her family. She wondered if the crew would have flown knowing she couldn't afford to pay them if the coming trade failed.
She grimaced.
Those thoughts could wait.
Her crew had been kept in the dark on quite a few things, most important of which was that they had not seen her brace was now useless. The unique and expensive piece was internally shattered from traumatic force. She was still amazed that she had survived without much harm.
That beast was likely strong enough to kill each and everyone on board the ship. Especially now, that she was without the only real method of stopping it. The light-rifle rounds she had now on her person were obviously no use against the creature, and there was little else on board the ship which could cause it damage in any significant fashion, short of throwing out the airlock. No space trader would ever allow a weapon stronger than what they presently had. To do so could be disasterous.
She brought her attention to the long range scanner with that thought, a inattentive shipmaster could lead to the same fate.
They were approaching another asteroid cluster as expected, and were decelerating to establish a safe assessment. As the freight slowed, the internal scans would set instructions for the auto piloting to navigate before returning to FTL speeds. Hundreds of blips began to appear as the ship slowed it's velocity. Cautiously they would filter through until they reach the opposing side and could accelerate once more. Yitale brought up the long range view finders to check the cluster.
It was mostly simple stone, likely formed millennia ago during some large scale impact by planetary bodies. Marked out on the route as it was, such a thing was deemed an acceptable trouble, so far as the efficiency of the route was concerned. Even so, though, something had caught her attention and made the mane of hair traveling down her spine itch.
There, scattered among the asteroids, was a wreck.
Multiple wrecks, in fact.
More and more were picking up as the scan continued.
Panic hit her almost immediately. Wrecks were almost unheard of in recent history, even the most basic of ships were required to have adequate scanners and autopilot. To see a wreck meant one thing and one thing only.
The large trading vessel suddenly rocked with a violent impact.
They were being boarded.