Lukas

Date July 12, 2116? Time Unknown Location Unknown

Welp.

This sucked.

Lukas squirmed in his seat, trying in vain to get even a little more comfortable. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been awake, but he desperately wished Kel would at least untie his legs. A blood clot could kill him just as easily as a bullet, and his feet were strapped down at a perfect angle to create one.

But nope. She wouldn’t even untie him for a bathroom break...which at this point, he could only hope meant their trip wouldn’t take much longer.

The doctor assumed that the blindfold was meant to keep him from seeing their flight path, so his captor was either taking him somewhere specific, or they had a route he might recognize. Given how unfathomably huge space was, Lukas was pretty sure it was the former, not the later...But he still wasn’t sure if the blindfold was a good or bad sign.

His rational mind tried to vote “good.”

The alternative was panic. And panic wouldn’t help. He was sure of that.

Just stay calm.

Stay compliant.

Stay alive.

And hopefully, eventually, she’d let him go.

He let out a quiet sigh.

Eventually had better come before August. The thought of missing his daughter’s birthday again made his heart ache. He’d give anything to be––

The ship shook.

“What was that?” Lukas blurted. Even if the blindfold was a good sign, it made him feel immensely vulnerable. He hated that he couldn’t tell if there was something wrong.

Well, more so.

“It was nothing, doctor,” his captor sounded annoyed. “We’ve simply docked.”

Docked.

Not landed.

So that was a clue. Probably. Or not. Maybe––

Fingers brushed the back of Lukas’ neck. He jolted; then forced himself to still.

The hand dragged across his jaw; lifted his chin. “Do I have your attention?”

What the hell else did he have to pay attention to?

Lukas bit back that response; kept it simple and safe instead.

“Yeah.”

“I am going to cut your restraints,” his captor said. “If you lash out, I will stab you. Understood?”

Wasn’t like it was a subtle threat.

Just keep her happy. Just make it home.

“Got it.”

A smaller huff. “Hold still.”

Lukas did his best to comply as the hand left his chin, and something cold and flat wedged itself between his wrist and the restraint. There was a snapping sound, and whatever she’d fastened so uncomfortably tight around his right wrist fell away.

Kel made short work of the other restraints, but even after he was free, Lukas stayed still.

She hadn’t taken the blindfold off.

Was she expecting him to do it? Or was it supposed to stay on awhile longer? How much was he allowed to move before stabbing was back on the table––

A hand gripped the back of his blindfold, and tugged at the knot.

Oh.

Good.

Guesswork gone.

The blindfold dropped away, but to Lukas’ nervous surprise, the world stayed dark.

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Well, relatively.

There was a ghost light on, yes, but besides that the skipper they occupied appeared to be completely powered down. No displays. No indicator lights. Nothing. Even the viewscreen was pitch black.

Wherever they were, his captor clearly planned to stay there awhile. Or was trying to make it harder for him to steal the skipper and escape.

Not that he could. First Responders Corps trauma surgeons weren’t exactly known for their piloting skills.

Honestly, the best Lukas could hope for would be to lock himself in long enough to send out a distress signal, and wait for someone to find him. And that was only if he could stop Kel from overriding the lock...and if there was actually a communications beacon within range to pick up the signal...and if whoever heard it would care enough to come...which were all big ifs.

Not worth the risks.

“Up.” His captor ordered.

Stiffly, the doctor complied. His legs protested their prolonged stasis, and his wrists ached where the restraints had dug in, but still, standing was definitely an improvement––

“Here,” Kel shoved the duffel full of stolen meds into his arms; then rested a hand on her holstered gun. “Attempt to open it, and I will shoot you. Understood?”

Of course he understood. Why was she acting like he wasn’t taking this seriously?

“I won’t try anything,” he assured her. “I’d like to go home someday. Preferably bullet-wound free.”

She snorted, but didn’t reply.

...Not exactly comforting.

Kel grabbed his left arm, and led Lukas through the small skipper; out an open door at the back, and into a mid-sized docking bay illuminated only by dim glowing red bulbs embedded in the walls.

“Couldn’t afford more lights?” The doctor muttered.

Kel jolted them to a halt. He felt her glare more than he saw it.

Lukas gulped. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to say that out loud. It’s just––”

“This vessel is still under construction,” his captor cut him off. “Only a few vital areas even have life support. Be grateful you can breathe, and keep your opinions to yourself.”

He wasn’t about to argue with the woman with the gun, so he just nodded. Seemingly satisfied, Kel led Lukas out of the docking bay, and into a similarly-crappily-lit maze of corridors.

As they walked, the doctor tried his best to keep track of their route, and silently went over the information he’d gathered.

They were on a ship. A really big one, if that docking bay and the halls were anything to go by. That took a lot of resources to pull together. But he didn’t see any insignia on the walls or doors, so it was probably some ultra-rich person’s yacht. Or it would be, once it was finished.

Were they in the back corner of a space dock? Was Kel bribing some people to let her store smuggled goods in a finished section of the ship as part of whatever kind of crime ring she was involved in? If he could just get to an airlock and into the main space dock, could he get help?

...Then again, that’d only work if it was an oxygenated space dock. And if there was anybody around that Kel hadn’t bribed. And if she didn’t catch up, and shoot whoever he was talking to. Or him.

For the moment, an escape attempt was a bad idea. He needed to bide his time, and––

Kel pulled him to a stop again; this time in front of a wide, sliding metal door that looked so much like some of the other wide, sliding metal doors they’d passed that Lukas had to wonder if she’d taken him in circles.

She released his arm; pressed a button on a panel to the door’s left.

It opened with a hiss.

Kel shoved him inside.

“Hey!” Lukas stumbled over his own feet; barely stayed upright. “Would you stop––”

Sudden, painfully bright lights made the doctor wince; he kept his eyes shut for a moment to help them adjust.

When he opened them again, he immediately wished he hadn’t.

Any other situation, and his new surroundings would have felt mundanely familiar. Almost comforting.

But in context, every flick of Lukas’ widening eyes shoved him deeper into dread.

Empty shelves along the left wall, the front of each compartment covered in protective zippered mesh.

Haphazardly stacked containers of clearly-marked Coalition medical supplies off to his right. Looked like enough to supply three Responders’ ships for a year. Probably had been supposed to, once.

Two scrub stations: one to his right, and one to the left of an open door at the back of the room. He could see a toilet peeking out from the edge of the doorframe, and what looked like a shower against the bathroom’s rear wall.

Then there were the operating tables.

Seven of them, spread out in a staggered pattern throughout the room. On their own, the tables might have been an unusual choice for an infirmary, but what made Lukas’ heart pound in his ears were the metallic rings positioned where a Human patient’s wrists and ankles would typically rest.

Just about as much guesswork needed as to why those were there as there was for the toilet.

And worst of all: a long, sturdy-looking chain piled on the floor by the center operating table.

One end of it seemed to be secured by a metal clamp to the table’s pedestal base...and at the other end, sitting prominently at the top of the heap, was another clamp. Open.

...Oh god.

His breath came out in shallow pants.

That was a shackle.

That was a goddamn shackle!

Ohgodohgodohgod. Nononononononono…

He turned back to his kidnapper; took in her quirked brow; the smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

She seemed to like his horror. And that made it even worse.

“This isn’t a robbery gone wrong, is it?” Why was he asking that? He could see the answer. He could see––

“No, doctor,” Kel’s voice dripped with condescension. “It is not. Now be smart. I have work to do.”

She brushed past him, towards the center bed, clearly expecting him to follow.

He didn’t budge.

This couldn’t be happening. This was happening. This couldn’t be...

His fingers dug into the sides of the duffel bag; he forced himself to shudder in a deep breath.

Just–just keep calm. Think clearly. He needed to think clearly.

Nothing...nothing’d changed. Not really. She still had that gun, and his best chance of not getting shot, and surviving whatever his kidnapper had planned long enough to make it home again, was still to keep his head about him, and play along with––

Kel reached for the shackle.

Nope.

Fuck that.

Lukas dropped the bag, and ran.