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“We’re here,” comes the voice from the intercom. “Hyperspace disrupter engaged. Both short and long-range sensors say there’s nothing around us for light-years.”
I press the button to reply. “Good. Now we’re just waiting. You all stay ready. I’ll come out to the bridge in a moment.”
A sense of determination washes over me. It’s time to execute the plan I’ve spent every waking moment of the last three days thinking about and preparing for.
I draw my plasma pistol from my belongings, feeling the familiar grip of the weapon slide comfortably into my hand. Planetside, my weapon of choice for a job like this would be an old-school projectile shotgun with a sawed-off barrel, but that’s not an option right now. As much as I appreciate the way a shotgun slug tears through Imperial armor, only an idiot with a death wish would try to use a projectile weapon on a spaceship.
Besides, if everything goes according to plan, we’ll hit them before they have the chance to put their armor on.
Taking a moment to ensure my pistol is loaded up with a fresh plasma pack, I step out of the captain’s cabin and onto the bridge, where my heavily armed crew awaits.
“Gentlemen, you know why you’re here,” I address them in a low voice. “An Imperial prison ship carrying Turan Butarza is about to pass through this exact patch of bumfuck, middle-of-nowhere space. If we fail to rescue him, my brother is dead. If they call for backup, we’re all dead. Succeed, and I willnotforget what you did to help the Butarza Family.”
I don’t need to say anything more than this. These are hardened Butarza soldiers, most of them only a step away from full, made membership in the Family. They know what they have to gain by showing me the depth of their loyalty at this critical time.
An unexpected throb comes from inside my pants, distracting me for the briefest of seconds. A tingling discomfort at the base of my cock, my body’s little reminder that I haven’t had a woman squirming under me in far too long. I’ll need to rectify that soon. If I can make it through the next hour alive, my next destination will be a planet underVostracontrol, where I can find some sweet, submissive Voorian girl and fuckingownher for a while. I like women from the old-schoolVostraplanets. Turan says they’re not challenging enough, but in this case, that’s the point. Sometimes all you’re looking for is a pretty piece of ass who knows her place on your cock.
Turan.Any moment now the prison ship will be here, my brother restrained inside, likely tranquilized with drugs. I grip my plasma pistol, resisting the urge to extend my claws. I’m going to kill them. I’m going to fucking kill them for thinking they could keep a made member of the Butarza Family inside a cage.
I’m a violent man, but not by nature.
Bychoice.
***
Aspen
As I step down onto the ship’s prison deck, I can’t help but steal a look at our prized captive.Turan Butarza, captain of the Butarza crime family, until recently one of the most wanted criminals in the Empire. As far as I know, this is the first time that Imperial law enforcement has ever captured such a high-ranking member of theVostra, the organized, highly secretive society of Voorian criminal organizations that wield so much power in our galaxy.
Personally, I’m not convinced that the United Planetary Empire is all that much better than the criminals, but at least working for the UPE keeps credits in my bank account. And I’d rather be on this side of the force field than on that one.
My name is Aspen Tor, and I’m head of the guard on this prison vessel.
For a moment I examine the prisoner, the strong, masculine features of his bearded face slightly distorted behind the buzzing blue field of energy. His restraints keep him upright, with his arms and legs shackled to the wall in a spread eagle formation, and his head hangs low on his chest as though he’s sleeping. Or more accurately, tranquilized. He’s been on a very high dose of sedatives ever since his arrest. With prisoners like him, we don’t take any risks at all.
Turan stirs, raising his head to look at me. His eyes are defocused, but I can tell that he sees me. Suddenly, the beacon on his forehead shines red, and he snarls with as much energy as he can muster. I jump backward in alarm as he extends that scary, sharp-looking set of secondary fangs that all “unsuppressed”Voorian males have. Most members of the Voorian race living in the Empire are forced to take drugs called suppressants, which subdue their natural Voorian characteristics and cause them to appear more or less human. Members of theVostra, however, do not, and so their extendable fangs and claws and ridiculously muscular physiques are all things that we in corrections have to deal with.
That’s what the force field is for.
My deepest secret, however, is that I’m a lot closer to Turan’s reality than anyone around me knows. Being half-Voorian, half-human, I don’t have a glowing light called abeaconon my forehead, I don’t have claws, and I don’t go into heat twice a year the way unsuppressed Voorian females do. I do, however, have a desire to get promoted to officer someday, and aliens, even half-aliens, aren’t allowed to become officers in any branch of Imperial military or law enforcement. Most of the non-humans I interact with are prisoners.
So I faked my blood work, and now I’m here, standing onthisside of the force field. And I don’t regret it. You do what you have to in this world.
Besides, the small amount of credits I’m able to send to my mother every month is all she has to live on. If I wasn’t doing this, I don’t know what would happen to her.
“Hey, Aspen!” comes Kora’s voice from behind me.
I turn and see my friend approaching, wearing her guard duty uniform. Kora works as a UPE prison guard, just like me. She’s a few years younger than I am, probably not much older than 20, but unlike me, there’s no hiding the fact that she’s a Voorian. Her skin shows that characteristic shimmery quality much more than mine does, and even though I assume she’s taking suppressants, there have been a couple of times working with her that I’ve noticed her beacon flashing one color or another.
“Hey, Kora,” I greet her, turning away from the snarling criminal in front of me. “How’s your shift?”
“Over,” she says with a tired grin. “I’m just waiting for Ben to come and relieve me. I see you’ve caught our friend here in quite a mood.”
She reaches over to the panel on the wall next to Turan and rotates one of the dials, turning up his dose of tranquilizer. His eyelids droop and he slumps forward unconscious, fangs still extended. I feel a mild sense of relief. Keeping someone tranquilized for an entire week-long spaceflight may seem cruel, but I’m pretty sure it’s better than the alternative of keeping him awake, strapped to the wall for the entire time. Imperial policy doesn’t allow any freedom of movement for high-risk prisoners. Right now, every bodily need he has is being fulfilled by some kind of tube or IV drip.
“Come on,” says Kora as Ben starts to come down the stairs behind us. “I’m officially off-shift. Want to get something to eat?”
After we have dinner, Kora heads to her quarters to go to sleep. I stay in the rec room on the crew deck, in a better mood than I was before. I really like Kora. In so many ways, she reminds me of myself when I was a new recruit. Like me, she grew up dirt poor on a shitty subject planet, and signed up for Imperial service as her only chance for a better life. We also happen to be the only two women on the crew, and although she doesn’t know it, the only two non-humans.
