Aarla's Descent

Author's Note: This is an independent story based on the Zeta Sector's universe. Prior reading of the base material is not required.

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As the tungsten rounds breach the ship’s hull, you sit there motionless. You always knew that if you ever get ambushed, this is the manner it is going to happen. You will be either in the captain’s chair, some holo-show projected before you, or you will be at another part of the vessel, perhaps in the bathroom, or asleep, and suddenly the entire thing will begin to unfold.

On one hand, you could say that you were begging for it. You are a smuggler alright, called Aarla Kadem, who just jumped out of FTL above the desert planet of Alescia, where her newest prize awaits her. You are a member of the adenian race: a genetically altered version of humans that was created millennia ago. Your kind was meant for military use, with green skin, capable to withstand the impact of a bullet, a strong yet agile body, and a brain that could far out-compete the average human’s. But when it became evident just how good you are at killing people, you were banished from Old Terra, your kind widely hated ever since. And of course: you are in the Zeta Sector, the land of fanatic slavers where just about anyone would be happy to put a collar on your neck if the chance arises. In fact, adenian women are considered royalties among the zetans, sold for ridiculous sums on their famous auctions. So yes, in an essence, you could say that this is entirely on you. But somehow. The entire thing. Just doesn’t add up.

The shots arrived the moment you jumped out of FTL, before your shield would flicker back to function. That means that whoever is the attacker, had to place a tracker on your ship, weeks, or perhaps months prior the . The other bizarre thing is that this is not a zetan vessel. Something that would be advanced enough to make a dent on your Aristotle. Instead, it belongs to one of the Old Terran factions, you are not entirely sure which one, purchased by some outlaws who kept patching it up with whatever tech they could get their hands on. A vessel like this would have practically zero chance against yours, blown to smithereens during the first salvos. And that makes one wonder: why would someone place a tracker on your ship, follow you to the land of slavers, and engage you with an inferior vessel?

Problem is, as you start to realize: this is really not the time for wondering about it!

The system locked the internal airlocks shut the moment the breach occurred. That saved you from certain . However, the rounds went through the cooling pipe to the reactor core, and even though the backup kicked in, it could only get your shield to a minimum. And with this realization in mind, your opponent now switched to plasma, and began shooting away, all the while you were sitting in your chair, contemplating on the events that led here.

But now you are back in control. And that is all that matters. The side thrusters flung to life, you are able to dodge the salvo. After that, you take a sharp turn, wait for the lock on target, and begin to fire your lasers. You see the shot emerge from above the cockpit, and you expect the other ship to be blown to pieces. But instead, its shield handles the shot easily.

Stars dammit! you curse, as you realize that your main weapon too is at the minimum. You also see the other vessel accelerating towards you, a burst of plasma fired in your direction. You try to evade, with another jolt from the thrusters, but one of the shots still get you, your shield almost depleted through the absorption. With it, you realize that your strategy is not going to work: in these circumstances, your foe is just superior.

You take a glance at Alescia. You dropped out of FTL close to the planet. If you put every ounce of power to the engines, perhaps you could make it there. With multiple holes in your hull, the Aristotle would be ripped to pieces during the descent. In that you are certain. However adenian cockpits are designed to land intact, with built in thrusters to slow you down. And there is a good chance that your foe has zero knowledge about this. You also think that you could send a signal that you surrender. But to what end? The zetans are not the only ones who keep slaves. The Old Terran factions do this just as often, except that they are more modest about it. Give up, and you will spend the rest of your life with a collar on your neck. A fate that is rumored worse than .

One rough landing it is! you think to yourself, as another salvo passes by your vessel. A few buttons pushed on the console, and all the power is rerouted to the engines. Then with a swift turn, you are away, headed towards the planet before you, the attacker changing course to intercept.

With the help of your thrusters, you dodge salvo after salvo as you continue your way towards the planet. The cockpit’s window engulfed with fire as you enter the stratosphere. Then you hear loud thud, followed by a screeching sound, and your mind registers that most of your ship no longer follows. Except that the other ship does, maneuvering to avoid the wreckage, your velocity matched as the pursuit is continued.

Fuck it! you think to yourself, as you give all power to the front thrusters. Then to the ones on the side. The cockpit slammed like a rock to the other vessel. Eat this, you bastards! you think to yourself. Your mind faded into darkness the moment of the impact.

When you regain your consciousness, you find the event a strange one. On one hand, you are glad that you survived this ordeal. On the other hand, your arms feel numb, and so are your hips and your crotch. As an instinct, you try to bring your hands before you, however the motion is stopped by something wrapped around your skin. That’s when you open your eyes finally, and you realize that you are sitting at an empty spot in the desert, your arms tied behind you by utility straps, connected to a makeshift harness around your hips. One that just happens to have another strap between your legs.

"Hey!" you raise your voice as you see a man glancing at the distance before you. You know for a fact that the straps didn’t just fasten themselves around your arms. And your crotch! You also have a pretty good guess that this is the same person who attacked you. Or the lone survivor of the crew that is. But who cares? You want answers.

You try to get yourself on your feet. However there is a sharp pain from your sinews, them not healed completely, and you fall face down in the sand, the man looking at you with a grin.

"Unbelievable. Any human would have died in that crash," the man says as you sit up. Your glance falls to the side where you see what remains of your cockpit. A crooked sphere made of metal, burnt and smoking, surrounded by glass in place of the sand. A bit far from you, you see the wreckage of the vessel that you fought earlier. Looks like the collision was enough to bring it down. You turn your gaze back to the man, he looks about thirty, with pale skin, a short beard, and a scar on his forehead. You notice that there is a plasma gun tucked in his holster. Of course! But what's important is that you do not recognize him. Still, there had to be a reason why he ambushed you. You are sure of it.

"What do want with me?" you ask. Your mind filled with fury.

"Isn’t that obvious, darling?" the man shrugs. Yes: you are young, even by human standards, only twenty-seven. And you have a nice face, a thin body, a round ass and B-cup breasts. With these in mind, the reason behind your capture seems obvious. But you are just not buying it. If the man really wanted a , he could have acquired one after the sufficient cash is collected. Or he could have just kidnapped someone, considering which part of space you are.

"Spit it out already," you dart, your patience growing thin. You think you could kick him in the head, that could knock him out, and grant you enough time to get free of the straps. But if you fail, he will shoot you, and that makes you uneasy for once.

"We were hired for the same job you and I," the man says. And suddenly, you start to remember: the artifact near the Star canyon on the main continent, hidden in one of the caves scattered around the place. Your employer would give you a pretty good sum in return, but you recall that you could get double if you bring it back to your homeworld. Adenians are curious of their neighbours after all. But could this be a reason? Unlikely: this was only a week ago. And somehow you doubt that he would have waited around until he gets some competition. But why would he lie to you when you are already at his mercy?

"My ship’s systems are fried, in fact, the whole thing is done for. And there ain’t much that would remain from yours either," the man says, looking over the remains of the two vessels. "In any other case, one would say that our mission is a failure. But lucky for us, you guys have eidetic memory, so you will make the perfect guide here. Once you get me the artifact, I will buy a new ship, and I will take you as a in compensation for trashing the old one. Plus all the stuff I had in it."

"I’m not going to be your pet," you dart.

"You already are, darling. You are just in the denial phase," he says. He gets a strap in his hand from the ground, the end of it actually attached to the utility belt on your crotch. You just didn’t notice it yet. He yanks on it so you would get up, but you just sit there, looking at him like a hyena.

"I could also take you to the nearest city, and whore you out until I get a ship’s worth of cash," he adds.

Bastard! you think to yourself, but you do get up from the ground, despite the pain from your sinews.

"This will be your favorite venture. You will see," the man says, as he starts leading you in the sand, you hastily stumbling after him. The moment the chance arises, you will break free of your bonds, and you are going to him. Or you will keep him as your own , just the return the favor. You are not sure yet. But you are not going to be his pet. In that you are certain.