The raining plop of objects hitting water made her turn her head to watch as the fish and other sea population caught in the tractor beam were deposited in the huge tank. As soon as the last one hit the liquid surface, the beam shut off and she blinked her eyes at the sudden loss of light. She could still see, albeit not as clearly, as dim circular lights surrounding the chamber provided only faint illumination. Dim vision didn’t prevent her from hearing the whirring sound of machinery and the soft snick of the aquarium sealing shut followed by a larger thunk which she assumed meant the bottom portal had also closed.
Then it was silent except for a distant hum and her panting breath. Her arms trembled with the strain of holding herself, and it occurred to her that her first order of business should involve getting her feet onto firm ground.
Exhaustion brought her close to the point of hysteria at her inadvertent pun and she giggled. Okay, maybe not firm ground but at least a surface she could stand upright on. Hanging like a monkey, she looked around and saw a walkway not far away if she could only make her way over to it.
“Just like monkey bars,” she reminded herself as she swung her body towards the next strut. Her hands caught the beam and she let her legs go so her body could follow. She hadn’t counted on the fatigue in her arms or how heavy her body would drag. Not to mention, she’d assumed a lack of or lesser gravity in space.
Wrong!
Her hands slipped from the beam and she plummeted, her short scream of fright cut off as she landed in an ungraceful heap on something unforgivingly hard and blacked out.
Chapter Two
Tren, his feet propped on his main console, cursed as an alarm went off.
“What the frukx is going on now?” He mumbled under his breath as he punched in a sequence of keystrokes on the armrest of his seat, forcing the screen in front of him to bring up the video for the transport bay. More than likely, one of his specimens had gotten free of the tractor beam, not a huge worry with this latest batch. The planet Earth wasn’t known for its deadly denizens. On the contrary, their creatures tended toward the docile side, especially the liquid faring variety.
The bay, with its huge vats, appeared in his view screen and he scanned the room, panning the camera in several directions. He didn’t see anything, but then again, some of the critters he’d captured were quite small. Not like the knovakian’s with their forty astrometric long tentacles. Those he’d had to sedate before capturing them for transport.
With a sigh of annoyance, he stood from his chair and stretched his bulky frame before stomping to the elevator that would take him to the lower level. He stopped just before entering and barked a command. “Proceed to the seventh planet in the quadrant and then drop into hyperspeed. Heading, the Jifnarian galaxy, third planet.”
“Course locked.” The smooth voice of his computer confirmed his orders. He grunted as he swung into the elevator and jabbed the button for the transport bay.
Going to wrestle a fish. The thought made him sigh. He’d come a long way from his career as a mercenary. His new life as a wrangler and transporter for rare species from undeveloped galaxies might bore the frukx out of him, but it sure beat getting his ass shot off every time he turned around. Of course, nothing could compare to the rush of a mission where he outsmarted security systems, pitted his skills against deadly guards and came out ahead. But the life of a warrior for hire wasn’t a long one hence his career change.
However, no one warned him that retirement would mean he’d end up bored out of his mind. He’d tried the life of leisure for a while, he’d certainly amassed enough credits to do so, but a male could only get drunk so many times and plow so many females before everything turned stagnant. So he bought a ship and started a new career-acquisitions specialist.
At least with his new business, he got to travel, fight the occasional reticent species and kill off pirates. Those still stupid enough to engage him that was. His reputation preceded him and now even the scum of the universe avoided him.
Time to change ships perhaps and fool them into thinking I’m new. He chuckled at the thought and made a mental note to have his business manager look into it. He could use the sport, and it always paid to keep one’s skills sharp.
The door to the elevator slid open, disrupting his mental plan to fool pirates into playing and he strode into the large transport bay.
“Lights,” he barked.
The dim cavern immediately illuminated and he strode through the tanks heading toward the newest one to see what caused his alarm to still ring shrilly. He didn’t bother masking the sound of his arrival, the heavy thump of his combat boots loud in the cargo bay. It wasn’t like the specimens he’d caught could grow legs and run away. What a shame. He wouldn’t have minded some form of entertainment.
Arriving at the recently filled vat, he peered around on the floor but found nothing around the base of the tank. He clambered up a ladder to reach the catwalks. He no sooner set foot on the metal grate than he saw a prone, wet lump.
“What the frukx is that?” It didn’t look like the illustrations he’d seen of Earth’s aquatic species. He wrinkled his nose at the stench, a briny, wet fish odor. Toeing the pale creature, he whipped his pistol out when it grunted.
What he’d mistaken for seaweed moved, and then, lifted until he found himself face to face with a face, a pale humanoid one. Big, brown eyes shot with red streaks blinked at him and blue lips parted on a gasp.
“Holy shit. You’re like Han Solo on crack,” croaked the human. And with those strange words, the Earthling he’d accidentally abducted, slumped forward again. Its eyes rolled back in its head and its forehead smacked into the grated flooring.
“Ah, frukxn’ crap.” Tren braced his hands on his hips and grimaced down at the sodden mess. Kill the Earthling or keep it? He got the impression it was female, although given its contorted position and bedraggled state, it could have also been an effeminate male. Either way, he didn’t want it. There wasn’t a large market for Earthlings, not given their temperament. The females especially tended to cry all the time and descend into hysterics, especially when introduced to their new masters. Apparently, they took issue with the whole sold as a sex slave thing. It was why Tren stuck to creatures. They couldn’t talk back.
I wonder if I can just drop her off somewhere on her planet. He discounted that idea almost immediately. One, he couldn’t be bothered. And two, medical expeditions learned their lesson after the Earthlings who came back after an abduction freaked, telling all who would listen about probes and needles. Like we’d use such archaic forms of technology. It made him sneer. Most of the civilized worlds considered Earth a barbarian planet, one bent on destroying its natural resources. It was why he’d made a trip to pick up specimens. At the rate they currently destroyed their oceans, he figured it wouldn’t be long now before the whole planet expired, making what he’d grabbed a possible rarity.
Not that he cared about their fate. The galaxy had more than enough viable planets and sentient races. They wouldn’t miss the loss of one backwards planet out in the far reaches.
But what to do about the Earthling? He raised his pistol to end the human’s life, but hesitated. What had it meant when it called him Han Solo on crack? His translator didn’t know what to make of it, and dammit, now he found himself curious.