The purple ship looked even bigger from the inside. It had a surprisingly expansive hangar bay, mostly filled with small, pod-shaped fighter craft. The vessels had been arranged in rows on either side of the hangar, to make room for the Hard Luck Hermit as it was slowly towed into the bowels of the ship. Tooley had kept her hands near the controls, but right now, they were alive, and trying to make a break for it would only get them killed real fast. Better to see where the ride took them, even if it took them right into the jaws of the enemy. Tooley was staring right down those jaws right now, and seeing exactly two ways out.
“So, do we want to try and kill them or ourselves?”
“I’d prefer ‘them’, but there’s a problem,” Kamak said. “There’s just one guy.”
Tooley contemplated looking out the window, but ultimately decided against it.
“Well is he a big guy, at least?”
“Kind of scrawny, actually.”
Five heads slowly started to peek out over various corners of the cockpit window. The man standing in the hangar waved and beamed up at them with a pleasant smile. He was both short and slender, with purple skin and thick dermal ridges on his cheekbones. He wore a light, shimmering full-body robes, with a high collar, that Corey understood passed as office formal wear in some parts of the universe. It resembled a monk’s garb, from Corey’s point of view, but to most people this man was dressed like a stereotypical secretary.
“This better be Morrakesh’s gofer,” Kamak said. “If the man ruining our lives looks like that I’m killing all of you and then myself.”
“Not if I kill myself first,” Tooley said.
“If you’re done planning your murder-suicide for like the eighth time since I met you,” Corey said. “Do we want to like, try to talk to him?”
Kamak deliberated that point internally for a moment before leaning on the comms panel. The Hard Luck Hermit had external speakers for situations just like this, though they’d been unused for so long he wasn’t entirely sure they still worked.
“Hey, you, are you Morrakesh?”
“I am not,” the secretary said. “My name is Ol-Voz, and I serve as Master Morrakesh’s majordomo. On his behalf, I welcome you aboard the Empyrean Absolutist.”
“He sent his housekeeper to talk to us?”
“Were you to meet Master Morrakesh personally, you would attempt to kill him,” Ol-Voz said. “I am authorized to speak on his behalf, and can convey his wishes to you in a less...risky, shall we say, manner.”
“And what if we decide to kill you?”
“I would politely request that you not. I have a family.”
It should’ve sounded like a plea for mercy, but it didn’t. Just a conversational statement of fact, like bringing up the weather or a recent sports game. Kamak didn’t trust anyone who could face death with such a casual demeanor. They either had nothing to lose or nothing to fear. Both dangerous. He removed his finger from the speaker button and turned to his crew.
“What do we think? Stay in, or go out?”
“We’re already in the damn ship,” Tooley said. “Hard to get less dead where we’re standing.”
“Outside of our vessel and away from our weaponry, it will become much harder to end our own lives before Morrakesh can encroach on our minds,” Farsus said. Kamak pressed the speaker button again.
“Hey majordomo, if we leave we’re bringing our guns.”
“That will be allowed. So long as you don’t shoot anyone without Master Morrakesh’s permission, of course.”
“Okay then,” Kamak said. “Grab something light and remember to save a shot for yourself, kids.”
Kamak unlocked the gun cabinet, took one for himself, and then lead the way as his newly-armed crew headed down the ship, towards the unloading ramp.
“Now, this is not a mandatory field trip. Anyone who wants to stay on the ship, stand your ground.”
“I cannot imagine a more inadvisable decision than splitting up at this juncture,” Farsus said. The rest of the crew nodded in agreement.
“Just thought I’d offer,” Kamak said. “Guns up, gang. Doprel, watch the flank, Farsus, Corey, I want you covering the sides, you ladies focus on the Majordomo with me.”
The crew took formation, guns at the ready, and stepped out into an utterly quiet, motionless hangar. Even the normal background hum of a spacecraft was muted by careful soundproofing. The deathly silence was slightly undercut by To Vo sniffling with displeasure. Apparently the hangar smelled bad, at least to her. In spite of her obvious disgust, Ol-Voz the majordomo embodied the silence perfectly, standing still as stone until the crew was standing right in front of him. His friendly smile never wavered, even with guns pointed at his face.
“Pleasure to finally meet you face to face,” Ol-Voz said. “Master Morrakesh has been very impressed with your performance.”
“Glad we can entertain,” Kamak said. “But we want this show over.”
“I’m afraid you and Master Morrakesh disagree on that point,” Ol-Voz said. “He is quite intent on you continuing. On that note-”
Majordomo Ol-Voz raised his hands and produced a small tablet from up his sleeve. He pressed a few buttons, and the silence broke as a door opened and a legion of various aliens appeared from a side hallway. Every gun in the room turned towards them, until Corey took a closer look at their “opponents” and realized what, exactly, they were.
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“Wait, wait, stop, stop!”
Corey reached and grabbed Kamak by the arm, shoving his gun down. He would’ve done the same in a moment, as he slowly realized who was approaching and what they were carrying.
Slaves, bound together by heavy metal chains, started hauling in various crates of supplies and parts. The lumbering slaves slowly marched into the hangar and deposited their cargo in rows near the Hard Luck Hermit. They kept their eyes down at the floor the entire time, never daring to look up at the Majordomo, or at the crew. Except for one, who cast a sidelong glance at Corey, only for a moment.
Corey knew her, by face if not by name. She’d been aboard the same ship that had abducted Corey, at the start of it all. They’d walked side by side for a moment before the chaotic battle in which Corey had escaped -and she hadn’t. The pleading desperation, envy, and regret in the slave’s eyes made it clear she remembered it just as clearly as Corey did.
Then Ol-Voz pressed another button, and the slaves collars flared with a powerful electric shock. They shuffled off as fast as they were able, and the hangar fell silent once again. Corey’s eyes lingered on the trail of the slaves.
“Don’t worry unnecessarily, Corey Anathedus Vash,” Ol-Voz said. Corey’s eyes narrowed as Ol-Voz casually dropped a middle name. “Master Morrakesh has learned the location of Earth, and he has no need to pursue you if he wishes to add a human to his menagerie.”
That did not in any way stop Corey from worrying. If anything, it made him worry more. Ignoring the obvious distress of his guest, Ol-Voz gestured to To Vo.
“That said, Master Morrakesh has yet to acquire a sample of this particular permutation of the Kentath retrograde line.”
Three guns went right back up, and three became four once To Vo stopped trying to cover her nose and put both hands on her gun. Kamak and Tooley raised their guns too once they realized everyone else was doing it. Ol-Voz held up his hands and took a step back.
“Forgive me, it is something of a compulsion on Master Morrakesh’s part,” the majordomo said. He then gestured back to the supplies the slaves had dropped off. “Please, help yourselves. Resupply and repair as needed.”
“You seriously expect us to take this shit?”
“Your hesitation is understandable,” Ol-Voz said. “Everything you don’t want will be left where it is. You aren’t obligated to take any of it with you. Simply keep in mind that your continued existence, and continued distraction of Master Morrakesh’s various targets, is better served with your ship well-supplied and in good condition. The Master has little reason to deceive you on this front.”
Ol-Voz gestured up towards the Hard Luck Hermit.
“And aside from that, Master Morrakesh has already well proven his ability to track your vessel without any form of tracking devices or sabotage,” he explained. “What would we have to gain?”
“Hmm. Farsus, take a look,” Kamak commanded. Farsus saluted quickly and then went crate by crate, scanning each of the offerings for potential threats. Whatever he found, Corey would not be touching anything in any of those crates. He barely trusted the food they already had. “What’s all this going to cost us?”
“Nothing. As said before, your continued existence serves Master Morrakesh’s goals. Consider that repayment enough,” Ol-Voz said. “Though if you wish, this can be considered only the first of many payments in a mutually beneficial relationship.”
Kamak hated himself for being curious, but he had to know.
“And...what, exactly, would we be doing in this scenario?”
Ol-Voz extended the hand his tablet was held in, and pointed it face up. The small device began to project a holographic map of the universe, centered around Turitha. The trade routes that the crew had identified as Morrakesh’s main points of interest were highlighted—along with a few routes they had yet to look into.
“As effective as your behaviors have been so far at distracting multiple parties and making way for Master Morrakesh’s trade manipulations, you have so far done so with no intentionality,” Ol-Voz said. “The Master is intrigued at the possibilities of what you could accomplish with...direction.”
“So you want us to do the same shit, but on purpose now,” Corey said.
“And with the promise of payment, as well as ongoing support from the Master,” Ol-Voz said. “A fair change from doing it at great cost to yourselves, one must agree.”
“Except for the part where we’re taking a gig from a slaver,” Kamak said. He’d blurred a lot of moral lines over his long life, but he stood his ground on slavery.
“Master Morrakesh believes such moral judgments are antiquated at best,” Ol-Voz said, that same cheery smile still pinned to his face. “But you aren’t obligated to agree. The choice is yours, as are the consequences.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Kamak said. He hated when the bad guys tried to pin responsibility on the other party, as if Morrakesh wasn’t the one reason Kamak was in this mess right now. “Farsus, how are things?”
“It all passes muster so far,” Farsus shouted back. “And would be quite useful, in fact. There is an alternator for a refrigeration unit in this box of parts.”
Kamak raised an eyebrow. He’d been looking for that part for a while, even before the entire ordeal with Morrakesh had started.
“Corey, Doprel, help him start loading anything useful on the ship,” Kamak said. “We’re getting out of here. I don’t think Morrakesh or his butler has anything to say worth hearing.”
“Understandable. Please stay safe,” Ol-Voz said. “Master Morrakesh hopes for your continued survival and success.”
Ol-Voz pursed his lips into an even thinner version of his usual smile, and he paused for a moment.
“As do I.”
The subtle but noticeable shifts in demeanor distressed Kamak. He tightened his grip on his gun.
“Ol-Voz.”
“Yes, Captain Kamak?”
“On my way out of here, I’m going to shoot you in the face,” Kamak said. “How does that sound?”
“That sounds entirely unnecessary,” Ol-Voz said. His voice didn’t crack, and his smile didn’t change. He was holding up well under pressure. Too well. Kamak leaned a little to the side, and got a better angle on the high collar of Ol-Voz’s robe. Underneath the fabric, a thin metal band caused a barely-noticeable wrinkle in the collar. A sleeker version of the slave collar the others wore.
Kamak looked up at Ol-Voz’s perpetual smile again, and saw for the first time the straining tension that held it in place.
“Get those fucking crates moving,” Kamak said, without breaking eye contact with Ol-Voz. “We’re getting out of here.”
“I’m afraid I must protest,” Ol-Voz said. “Master Morrakesh has ordered you not leave the vessel until we reach our destination.”
Kamak glanced over his shoulder and cursed himself for not realizing the doors had slowly shut behind them. For such a massive vessel, the interior mechanisms moved almost utterly silently. He didn’t know the exact specifications of this ship, but he could easily guess the Hermit did not have the firepower to blast through the doors.
“And where the hell is that?”
“I cannot say. Master Morrakesh pilots the ship himself, and he has kept his destination private.”
Kamak nearly snapped, but forced himself to remember that Ol-Voz was a slave like any other, and would not know all of his master’s secrets. Strangling him might make Kamak feel better, though. He pocketed the strangulation for later and returned to his ship, hauling one last crate of supplies aboard before closing the loading bay doors behind him.
Just before the door slipped closed, Kamak saw the hangar doors open again. Something large walked through the open doorway, approaching Ol-Voz. Then the gate shut, and Kamak could see no more. He swore loudly as the door finally closed. Even the doors were working against him now