Beyond the Endless Sky

Chapter 4

The squeal of screeching metal yanked Clarissa out of slumber, and into a wide-eyed fright. She moved to sit up, but a hand held her shoulder and pushed her back down onto the bed. Warm breath caressed her ear, followed a heartbeat later by Mercy's comforting voice. "Stay silent, no matter what you hear. You're perfectly safe."

Clarissa nodded and stopped trying to sit up. Her hands clutched the edge of the sleeping bag, and she took a deep breath as the sequel turned slightly louder, and light poured in from outside the door. The quiet smack of shoes on the metal deck sounded as soon as the door stopped, and at least two different people skulked inside.

Clarissa's eyes were closed, and she was staying as silent as she could, but she still yelped in shock when a cold hand fell hard on her mouth. Another hand, vice-like, settled on her arm as she tried to pull it out of the blankets. "Quiet, kid. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay silent as the whispering sky."

"We're going to take you away from this. Find a nice place for you. With people who value you. A damn sight better than being cast off to wherever these smugglers have in mind. Just be quiet and come with us. A few hours you'll be on your way to a new home," another voice said from the foot of Clarissa's bed. "Girl like you will never want for anything."

Clarissa kept her eyes tightly shut, and she didn't make reply. "Too frightened to talk?" the man holding his hand over her mouth asked, and Clarissa could hear the smirk in the man's voice. "Suits us just fine, long as you stay that way."

There was a metallic 'click' just above Clarissa's head, and the hand over her mouth eased off. Another click, and the lights turned on, revealing a pistol pointed at the side of a man's head. "I have a deep and abiding dislike of slavers," Mercy said.

"We ain't slavers," a woman said, the same woman who had promised Clarissa a new life. The woman had her hands spread and was eyeing the pistol in Mercy's hand warily. "And Volante is a free land. Girl would be in better hands than wherever your lot plans to take her."

"Indentured service for the girl, a generous finders-fee for you and yours? Shit don't stop stinking on account of calling it 'excess food'," Mercy said harshly, and the man she held the gun to flinched and slowly pulled his head away.

"I'm sure we can come to an accommodation," the woman said smoothly. "You have one shot, and even if you hit him it's still four to one. Give us the girl, keep your mouth shut, we'll cut you in."

"I'm starting to feel left out," another voice said from Clarissa's left. She turned to see Captain Vincent was standing behind the man Mercy was pointing a gun at. The sword in his hand danced in the light from the doorway, and his other hand held a pistol. "Mercy, think it's because these slavers can't count, or they don't think I'm a person?"

"Reckon it's the latter, sir," Mercy replied, as she turned her weapon to face the woman at the foot of Clarissa's bed. "Slavers normally make good bookkeepers. Tabulating debts is almost as complex as navigation."

"So they can definitely count. Have to say, I'm hurt," the Captain said in a light, jovial tone.

"Might not be you specifically, sir," Mercy said. "They didn't include Clarissa either."

"Or Leslie," the Captain added. He turned his head to the doorway with a wicked grin on his face. "How's it going out there?"

There was a rather meaty thump, accented by a sharp crack. A startled gasp, interrupted by a hard crack, and a heavier tumble that Clarissa believed was someone falling to the floor. "I'm fine, Captain," Leslie called back. His tone was so relaxed he could have been sitting for tea. "Our guests are in bad straits, though. Cracked ribs on one, and the other tried to put a hole in the Childs' outer hull with his face."