Chapter 4: Where the Hell is Wong?

“Where the hell is Wong,” Zima asked over the com, standing on the dock by the entrance to the access tube. “Custom’s won’t clear us until she’s signed back on board. Said they’ve had too many spacers jumping ship over the last few weeks.”

“Fredricks is online with Station,” the Captain’s voice crackled back. “Got no choice here, they’re refusing undocking until she’s onboard. Anyhow, not leaving without her. She’s crew.”

“Station Police are bringing her in,” Fredricks reported back fifteen minutes later. “She was in the cells, found her wandering around. Drugs, they said. I paid the fine.”

“Not like her,” Zima shrugged. Until it happened. Spacers.

When they cut loose, they cut loose. God knows she did. She smiled at the memory. Those three guys. She’d showed them it wasn’t just Nockatunga girls that could tuck their feet behind their ears. She’d shown them a few other things too. God, those three, they’d been good. Weeks and months shipboard in the same confined space with the same people, it did that to you. That and jump space, you had to let off steam and she had and she felt great. She guessed Wong must’ve felt the same way, just, she’d overdone it a bit. Always the way when you locked it up inside the way Wong did. She’d learn.

“Sealing cargo access now,” the Captain said. “Get her onboard as soon as they drop her, we’re close to missing our window. Soon as the hatch is dogged, we’re undocking. Tugs are standing by.”

“Here she is.” Zima could see the Station Police shuttle coming through the loading bay access hatch. She didn’t look good, Station Security had to drag her out of the back of the shuttle. “Fuck, she’s a zombie, somebody come and give me a hand here.”

Zima tried, but Wong was deadweight, even though she was smaller than her. Zhu came down the tube, between them they got her into the lock. Dogged the hatch. Reported to the bridge.

“Hellraiser cleared for undocking,” Station responded.

Docking Control took over from there. Hellraiser was on her way.

“Strap her into her bunk, Zima,” First said as the tugs moved them out. “She can sleep it off. Need everyone at their stations. Roget, you’re on Nav.”

“Kay,” Roget responded, switching stations.

“What’s wrong with her?” Zhu asked Zima as they dragged Wong up ship to her bunk in the crew compartment.

“Fucked if I know,” Zima said. “Fredricks said Security said drugs.”

They both looked down at Wong as they laid her down on her bunk, strapped her in. “She looks like a frigging zombie.”

Wong could see them through a fog. She could hear them through a haze. Her mind screamed for her mouth to work, to say something. Anything. Nothing happened. Her mind struggled weakly through that fog but her body was no longer hers. Even her eyes were frozen, staring up at the ceiling unmovingly as Zima and Zhu left her.

Inside her head, calmness fading slowly through the relaxing glow that still held her mind in a haze, Wong began to experience fear. What was happening to her? But she knew, she knew, she was beginning to remember now what she’d done, what had been done to her, what she’d seen in that Halloween Party from Hell and that was even worse.

Because now she knew what was happening inside her body.

She knew there was absolutely nothing she could do.

Host. That was what Buzz had said. Host.

She was host to Buzz’s babies.

Something moved inside.

It felt strangely good.

Wong whimpered.

In her head.

Unheard.

Clang-thunk! The access tube unlocked. Crash! Nockatunga Station grapples let go, withdrew from the ship. All that held Hellraiser to the Station now were their own mooring grapples clamped to the docking boom. A green light on the board. A voice. Nockatunga accented.

“Arvo mate, you buggers ‘re looking ripper for nicking off.”

“What?” The Captain and Fredricks looked at each other.

“Repeat please,” the Captain said.

“No worries, mate,” the voice said. “Ya pommie ratbags’re cleared to fuck off outa here.”

“Does that mean we’re cleared for departure?” the Captain asked, exuding patience.

“No dramas, mate,” the voice said. “Bloody oath. Course you’re cleared, wouldn’t be here playing silly buggers with ya if ya weren’t. Now will ‘ya stop playing around and fuck off. Got another one wants to fuck off outa here right after you drongo’s. Tell ya mate, I’m flat out like a lizard drinking right now, half the fucking sheila’s on the shift haven’t shown up. Bloody bunch of skiving ratbags.”

“Ahh, yes,” the Captain said, shaking his head.

First laughed. “Releasing Hellraiser grapples,” he said, flicking the switches. That Keagan, she’d banged like a dunny door alright. All frigging week. He could hardly walk. Feet behind her ears hadn’t been the half of it. He’d have to look her up next time they came through. Man could settle down on a place like Nockatunga if all the sheila’s were like Keagan. Fuck, yeah! Worth thinking about.

“Docking Control, this is Hellraiser. We’re all yours,” the Captain said.

“Righto Hellraiser, Docking Control has you. Moving you out now.” A slight jar. External displays showed Hellraiser separated from Station.

“Power up,” Scotty came over the com. Main engines began to hum, a hum that travelled through the ship. It’d be another half hour before they were far enough from the station to move under the main engines but better safe than sorry.

“Condition nominal,” First said, running through ship checks.

“System schematics on main display,” Roget said. The usual departure routine now, except Roget was filling in for Wong on Nav.

“Engines nominal,” Scotty reported. “Thrust at fifty percent, everything’s green.”

“Passing Marker One,” Roget was tracking Hellraiser’s position.

“Thrust to sixty percent,” the Captain said.

“Thrust to sixty percent, aye,” Scotty came back moments later.

“Coms,” the Captain said. “Send. Hellraiser departing system. Tell them thanks for the party.” He waited for Fredricks to send. “Anyone checked on Wong?”

“She was out,” Zima said. “Strapped her into her bunk. Let her sleep it off. She’ll have the hangover from hell when she wakes up.” She laughed. “Must’ve been some party she had.”

“Serves her right,” the Captain said. “She should know better than that. Call me if there’s anything, First.”

“Will do, Captain.”

The lightspeed flare of an incoming jump-ship flashed on the displays. Alarms howled on Hellraiser’s bridge. Proximity alarms. Collision alarms.

“She’s not dumping,” First hit the high grav maneuvers alarm. Locked down his crash chair fast and then the wave front hit them and he knew the incoming jump ship wasn’t far behind because he hadn’t detected any dumps yet and he should’ve, almost right away. He hadn’t? Fuck!

Fuck, indeed. He hit the red button. Klaxons’ blared. Fuck all use but you did what you could. Shut the vanes down, cut power, boost shielding, secure all hatches, lock down everything that could be locked down.

“Ship, this is First. Out of control jump ship incoming from jump point. Lock it down everyone.” Which meant if you were taking a crap and you were half done, you didn’t wait. You dived for the nearest crash pad, strapped in, and cleaned up your shit afterwards. Either that or you got cleaned up afterwards if something had gone wrong. Didn’t matter whose fault it was. Space was merciless.

The incoming ship passed them at close to light speed, enough C that even in the emptiness of space, Hellraiser felt it, shuddering at the blast and god alone knew what damage that did to her. By the time the displays showed what was happening it was history and Hellraiser still existed.

First lifted a shaking hand to the boards, hit the release. Alarms died. “Check ship for damage,” First said. “Captain to the bridge.” Not that he needed to say that. Captain’d be halfway here by now.

“Crazy frigging aliens,” the Captain snarled as the Hunter ship raced on in-system. “Station’s gonna go ballistic on them. We got an I.D?”

“Vvvvarp, that’s what systems is reporting.”

“Who the fuck are they?”

First shrugged. “No idea, never run into them before.” Not that that was unusual. The compact held a half a thousand different species, no-one was familiar with them all. Maybe a xeno specialist but Hellraiser was a jump-ship, a trader, not a frigging university specializing in alien studies.

“Natural childbirth advocates?” Chief of Station Security Peterson shrugged. “Don’t see anything wrong with that, sport. Nothing illegal about natural childbirth, not here anyhow.”

He turned to Hanson, beside him. “Am I missing something, or is it the translation software again?”

“Dunno, boss,” Hanson said. “How about I get O’Connor in to work on it, he’s much better with the translation comp than I am.”

“Yeah, okay,” Peterson nodded. “You do that and take off, Hanson. Enjoy the date.”

“Will do, boss. And it’s a massage, not a date.”

“Whatever, Hanson.”

“Now, Apizzzzzz, sorry about this, we’re not getting a good translation here. Can we start again?”

“Izzzzzzz urgeeeeeent ... Emergenzzzzzzzy...” Hive Guardian(?) Apizzzz was buzzing wildly. “Egggzzzzzz ... criminalzzzzzz eggzzzzzzz layzzzzzzz sentientzzzzzzz beingzzzzzz. Zzzzizzzz not permitted.”

“Yes yes yes, we got that,” Peterson said, very patiently. “We know that’s how you reproduce, sentient beings do that too, we know that, but where’s the problem here? Nothing wrong with laying eggs if that’s the way you do it.” He looked around. “Come on in O’Connor, can you recalibrate the translation comp, it’s not making much sense here.”

“Sure thing boss, won’t take long.”

Hanson tingled everywhere as Buzz’s hands massaged and stroked and worked her everywhere at once. She smiled blissfully, burying her face in his silky hair, lying on him, inhaling that warm summer scent. Buzz’s massages were better than sex. Sex with Buzz was better than anything and she knew he’d give her what she wanted. He seemed to know, his shaft throbbed within her, somehow he seemed to caress her sex without even touching her with his fingers.

“Ohhhhhh,” Hanson’s sigh morphed into a moan of pleasure. “Buzz, you’re amazing.” She smiled. “I wish I could have your babies...”