He glanced at her but went back to his work, allowing her to help and talk as she wished.
“When I was younger, before I was a slave, I lived with my uncle. Well I called him Uncle. He'd been friends with my father. He took care of me until I was a teenager and almost finished normal education. We were poor but I had a job as a shop assistant and gave him most of my credits to help out.” She knew she wasn't getting to the point but even now she wasn't sure she wanted to.
“He hurt you?”
“One evening when I came home from work he was waiting for me. He'd drunk a lot of alcohol, he often did, but this time he looked at me differently. He went on about how much I owed him and how grateful I should feel and then he... he proposed I join him in his bed and do... certain things for him, to pay him back. I said no and went to my room to sleep, and I thought he'd left it at that, but I woke up a few hours later...”
She gulped and paused and they stopped working.
“He'd tied my hands and feet to the bed and he climbed on top of me and... well, I'm sure you can imagine what he did.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and picked up the tool he needed.
“I ran the next day. When I was in the main city four days later and starving, one of the slave masters offered me food in return for owning me. I knew things couldn't get any worse so I said yes.”
“And that's why sleeping scares you?” She nodded and helped him put the casing back on the repaired handgun. “I think it would scare me too.”
“Please, don't tell anyone. I... I've never told anyone before.”
“I won't, if you really don't want me to.”
“No one, ever.” She finally looked at him and let him see the emotion in her eyes.
“I'm going to be here for a while, so why don't you get some sleep? The engine room back there's nice and warm.” His gaze moved to the door and then back to her face. She nodded, grateful for his understanding. He'd done exactly what she'd not dared to hope; offered her some protection so she could rest.
As soon as the door was shut behind her she curled up in the corner, used her uniform jacket as a pillow, and allowed her eyes to close.
A Captain's Work is Never Done
Dylan sighed as he went over all the damage reports. His crew was exhausted and sleeping, and his ship was shot up so badly it didn't have the energy to go as fast as he wanted to. On top of that, a planet full of people were relying on him to get there in time.
With only half his repair bots working and no extra energy to recharge the weapon cells, his ship couldn't take another battle without spending a significant amount of time soaking up some starlight. And they were still almost a whole day away from Federations space proper, where he could hide behind other fleet ships.
The Myreen had known he was coming. They were responsible for the last ship not getting through to its destination, something the admiral had neglected to mention in his reports. With an untrained crew that couldn't man a full set of stations Dylan had almost lost everything in the last battle, and he knew he had to keep how close they'd come to dying to himself. A lucky shot from an engineer had blown up a small but deadly Myreen vessel before it got too close. If it had latched on and torn another chunk out of the hull, they'd have had too many breaches to patch them up before they ran out of power.
As he was going through the calculations for energy conservation, he heard a knock on his cabin door. His Thorian second officer came in.
“Is anything wrong?” Dylan asked. The Thorian rarely came to speak to him alone.
“I'm worried about one of our crew.”
“Who?”
“The slave girl, Auraylia.”
“What about her?” Dylan sat forward. Of all the names it wasn't one he'd expected. So far he'd only heard good things about her and plenty of it. Her enthusiasm and desire to please her superior officers was something a lot of the lower ranks didn't share.
“I think you ought to talk to her.”
“She's sleeping, along with the rest of the crew.”
“Except she's not, and I don't think it's the first time she's gone without sleep.”
Dylan raised his eyebrows. The Thorian was a man of few words, but his tale was so cryptic Dylan found himself wanting the genetically modified human to elaborate.
“She's in the lower deck engine room at the moment.”
“What's she doing there?”
“You really ought to go see for yourself, sir.”
“All right,” Dylan said as he grabbed his outer top and put it on. It wouldn't be a good idea to appear out of uniform even if most of the crew were sleeping.
The Thorian went with him as far as the corridor and Dylan entered the weapons lab alone. The remnants of work were out on the benches but nothing out of the ordinary. Beyond was the small security door to the engine room, a room off limits to most personnel.
He opened it, trying to do so as quietly as he could, and stepped through. The engine's hum filled the room and in the dim light he could only make out the outline of it. He couldn't see Auraylia.
As he considered going back out to ask the Thorian what he was playing at, he noticed someone might be able to hide behind a pipe that stuck out from one wall. As he moved closer he heard the sounds of someone moaning in their sleep and he walked faster.
On the other side lay Auraylia in the grip of some sort of nightmare. Reaching down, he touched her shoulder and whispered her name.
In a flash she opened her eyes. The green looked even darker in the low light and the fear was evident. Before he could say anything she shuffled back into a crouched position and drew two blades from somewhere inside her clothes. One was Myreen and reflected the reddish light back to him but the other was dull and rusted.