Page 19 of Black Star

Black Star Stowaway

A Sci-Fi Futuristic Alien Adventure

Marteeka Karland

Chapter One

Lights from the entryway to hangar thirty-five flooded the vast, open “visitor” area of Graves Station, deserted in the wake of the strict curfew. Every footfall, every whisper was magnified in the severe silence. Phoebe Lightheart shivered in her hiding place in the deep shadows of one of the many ventilation ducts, an iron grate the only barrier between freedom and continued life as a slave to every man on the station.

She had sat in the place for many days and nights, working loose the iron screws in order to be ready for the slightest chance of escape. Phoebe was risking her life on the hope she could sneak aboard a ship and leave this accursed place forever. If she were caught, her death would not be swift. Even now, she had reached the point of no return. She had been gone for too long. Even one day was too long. There was no doubt she had already been missed. It would still take several days for the Hand to search the lower decks. In their arrogance, they would assume she was simply hiding to avoid her “chores.” It would take time for them to realize she had betrayed their holy community and was attempting escape.

No one escaped from the Hand of God. No one.

Phoebe intended to be the first.

When the legendary shipBlack Starhad docked there the day before, Phoebe’s heart had soared. This was her chance. Heronlychance. If this didn’t work, she doubted she’d live long enough to wait for another ship to dock in this remote area of the station. She had only been able to smuggle out a couple days’ worth of food -- which was long gone -- and she couldn’t go back. Trying this in a more populated area was as out of the question as going back to the Hand.

No one had been in or out of this hangar for hours now. It was time to move. Silently, she pushed open the heavy grate centimeter by centimeter. Crawling carefully from her hiding place, Phoebe stayed close to the bulkheads and shadows, making her moves slow and patient. She hadn’t come all this way, waited all this time, only to be discovered because of impatience.

The gangplank was down, but that was likely to be guarded from the inside. She circled the ship until she found what she was looking for. The solid waste outlet. During flight, the small hatch was locked tight, but when the ship landed, the change in air pressure released it for easy garbage disposal by the station’s personnel.

And it was the perfect inlet for her.

The chute was small, and it was a very tight fit, but she managed to crawl inside. The smell of rotten food and stinking trash was strong, but not unfamiliar. While the men of the Hand enjoyed all the clean comforts of the station, women who hadn’t been chosen as wives or house maids were often forced to live in places that smelled similar. The farther down in the station one lived, the stronger the stench. Compared to a whole community’s waste, this was only a mild odor.

Once she reached the main garbage hold, it was just a matter of being quiet and choosing carefully. Pausing to catch her breath and muster her failing strength, she looked carefully at each hatch door. She chose one of the smaller hatches, as those should lead to a less populated area of the ship. An exhausting ten-minute crawl later, she reached another small hatch. This time, when she opened it, the smell of clean, fresh air assaulted her almost as much as the stench of garbage would have someone else. Her nose tingled with the sensation, and she had the almost uncontrollable urge to sneeze.

After days of being in almost total darkness, the dim lights of the corridor hurt her eyes. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do, but she knew she needed to find a seldom-used closet or vacant crew quarters and find a place to hide. With any luck, she wouldn’t get caught, or if she were they would be so far away from Graves Station they wouldn’t insist on taking her back.

The thought no sooner crossed her mind than she heard two sets of heavy footfalls coming nearer. Her heart slammed in her chest as she looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to hide. Every door she’d tried since she exited the trash chute had been locked. Looking frantically, she spotted a nook in the wall with two steps leading down to a closed door panel. It was probably locked, too, but with the dim lighting, if she crouched as low as she could on the landing in front of the door, they might not see her.

Quickly darting across the corridor, she made the two steps and huddled as tightly against the wall as she could, trying to keep her body in the shadows as much as possible. They were getting closer. She could hear them talking. She was sure they’d be able to hear her heart thudding. Her breath came in rapid gasps as fear assailed her. She felt like a rat caught in a trap.

Just as the men were about to round the corner, the door behind her slid open silently. Phoebe jumped, startled at first, but she’d never been one to question good fortune when it came her way. She ducked inside, and the door slid shut behind her.

The spacious cabin filled with a soft, dim light as soon as the door closed. She just stood there a few moments, letting her eyes adjust and waiting to see if the men had noticed her. If so, she expected they’d follow. They had been so close, there was no way she’d have time to hide even if she’d seen a good place right off.

She didn’t. The room was so Spartan, she was sure no one occupied it. Only a desk and a large bed graced the interior. Phoebe let out a sigh of relief. If she were careful, maybe she wouldn’t be noticed.

First, she looked around for some kind of food replicator. She had heard some of the Imperial ships had them, though it was rumored the Coalition preferred actual cooking to synthetic nourishment. She was terribly hungry and a trek to find food outside her new haven would have to wait until she figured out the ship’s schedules. The last thing she wanted was to get caught in a morning rush.

Nothing. There was nothing she could eat. Disappointment hit her harder than she expected. She was hungrier than she could ever remember being. It had taken every ounce of energy she had left to get this far. Many more days without food and she wouldn’t be able to walk across the room, much less sneak around an unfamiliar ship.

At the moment, however, there wasn’t much she could do about it. She needed sleep almost as badly as she needed food, and the bed on the far end of the chamber, next to a blackened window panel, looked particularly inviting. She knew she shouldn’t sleep there, out in the open. She knew it was dangerous. But she wanted so much to sleep in a real bed and not a cold floor padded with only one of the two blankets each woman was allowed. It was a temptation she simply couldn’t resist.

Decision made, she crawled into the middle of the bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she took one deep breath, sighed happily, and fell promptly asleep.

* * *

“Lights.” A husky, male voice barked out the order. Phoebe sat straight up in the bed and realized, too late, her mistake. She had fallen asleep. Now she was well and truly caught. She had no idea how long she’d been out, but she was fairly certain her escape had just been cut short.

“Well, well. A stowaway.” His nose twitched. “From the smell of you, I’d say I need to look into putting security at the solid waste outlet hatch.”

“I’m sorry to ruffle your delicate sensibilities, but it was the only way inside.” Phoebe had never backed down from anyone. It was the reason she’d spent so much time in the bowels of the station instead of being snatched up as a man’s wife or concubine, or even a maid. She tended to speak her mind. Still, this time she cringed inwardly. This wasn’t the time to piss off this particular man.

His only response was a raised eyebrow. “Indeed. And now what? You expect free passage to wherever you see fit?”

“I don’t suppose you’d let that happen, would you?”

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