The Stowaway and the Captain
Copyright© 2025 by Rycliff
Chapter 3
With the knowledge that they hadn’t made a clean getaway, Talak could no longer pretend that he could abandon Alliyanna to her fate. There was no way he could protect her, and it was evident that the duke had a vast network that could find them easily. So, what could he do? What should he do? As his clan’s leader, he’d committed to helping Alliyanna; it was now a matter of an honor debt to keep her safe. And that meant safety from both the duke and her father. He should have just spaced her and been done with her. However, his mother would have done the same thing to him when she learned about it.
He preferred older, more mature women, and he preferred raven-haired, taller women with a more athletic build. Still, he could see why she would be considered attractive to many: independent but not aggressive, intelligent, quick-witted, and good-looking, she was a product of her upbringing and out of his league. He knew she was destined for a man of high station and a House with more honor than his. In truth, if she were only her father’s daughter, he could hope to be a suitable match. But because she was her mother’s daughter, it was impossible. Her mother’s House held too much honor, respect, and wealth, and controlled too much land, industry, and commercial interests.
All these things have worked in her favor until now. These were to her detriment; she was too recognizable and could easily be identified. Even if you didn’t know she was a baroness or engaged to Duke Birsha, she stood out in the crowd. Her regal bearing and mannerisms were not those of a farm girl. Nor were they of a trader or an administrator. So, Talak would have to coach her on how to blend in, or she would be captured in no time. “Why do you allow yourself to get drawn into other people’s troubles? “He asked himself for the millionth time.
Talak scanned the bustling streets of Farmworld III, trying to push away the oppressive feeling of anxiety that had settled in his chest. He turned to Alliyanna, who was visibly shaken from the firefight. “We need a place to stay, but it can’t be a hotel or public housing. Too many eyes watching,” he said, scanning the crowds for anyone who might be watching and listening. Alliyanna nodded, her thoughts racing. “Do you have a plan?” Talak hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I have a friend, Kahlan. He’s a mechanic and runs a small repair shop on the city’s outskirts. He values discretion, and he can keep us hidden. It would be safe there for a while.”
“Will he understand the situation? I don’t want to put him in danger,” Alliyanna replied, worry lacing her voice. “Of course,” Talak reassured her. “Kahlan has seen enough in his life to know when to shut his mouth. Besides, he owes me a favor. He’ll help us.” “All right then,” Alliyanna replied, feeling a flicker of hope amidst her dread. “Lead the way.”
They navigated through the crowded streets, with Talak keeping a protective eye on their surroundings. After a short walk, they arrived at a modest building nestled between two larger structures, its faded signage indicating it was a repair shop. Talak pushed open the door, and a small bell chimed overhead. The interior was filled with the scent of oil and metal, and tools were scattered across the workbench. Kahlan looked up from under the hood of a tractor, wiping his hands on a rag, his brow furrowing in surprise upon seeing Talak. “Is that you? I haven’t seen you in ages!” Kahlan exclaimed, dropping the rag, and coming over to greet him. “Good to see you, Kahlan,” Talak said, then gestured to Alliyanna. “I need your help.” Kahlan’s expression shifted from excitement to concern as he noticed Alliyanna’s distressed demeanor. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Talak explained their predicament in hushed tones, ensuring no one else could overhear. As Kahlan listened, his jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed. “Come with me,” he said, leading them to a back room filled with spare parts and equipment. On the floor in the corner of the room was a heavy box. Kahlan pushed the box, which moved effortlessly. The trapdoor became visible, and Kahlan opened it. Glo-lamps lit the stairs and gave off a greenish hue of light. They descended the stairs one person at a time. The underground room was not big, but it was comfortable. It had clean bedding, military rations, and drinking water. And right now, it was as good as any five-star hotel. “This is where we can lay low for a while. The front is always busy, so no one will come back here unless I call for them.” This was a sanctuary, even if it was temporary. As she settled into a corner on an old but comfortable chair, Alliyanna took a deep breath, feeling the tension ease just a bit. Talak and Kahlan determined how to keep her safe in the coming days, planning for every outcome. Talak discussed his next moves with Alliyanna. He still had to perform his duties as a trader and make deals to keep his clan and business interests alive
. “I need to sell the goods I brought here and find the best deals and bargains to get us closer to the Capitol. I don’t know what to buy until I sell my goods and know my profits. But I will do what I can to get us closer to the core of the Empire and keep you safe. It may take us some time to get that far. My ship doesn’t have the capability to run at multiples of hyperspeed. Also, I must get the shields repaired and probably should have them upgraded as well. If I could swing it, I would look at another ship with better armor, advanced shielding, and at least defensive weapons. But that is too rich for my blood. And you can’t use your family’s money without alerting everyone to your presence. So, we stick to the plan we have.
He knew most of the goods he had were not suited for this world, but the genetically modified seeds and the frozen embryos, the machine parts that he’d been hoarding, could bring top prices here. The seeds were a strain of pest-resistant wheat and corn plants that not only resisted the pests and were able to increase production by 20 percent but also true seeds that they bred and allowed the plant to shed life-bearing seeds. IE you could plant them and grow more plants. Very few GMO seeds permitted that. These high-tech products would make him a good profit here. The frozen embryos were for a strain of cattle that were hearty and resistant to disease, and when crossed with the local variant, they would produce bigger, stronger cattle with higher milk production and better-quality meat. But the bonus was that their hides were thicker and made higher-quality leather. When it was tanned, it was more supple. These embryos were all female because they were as large as the native bulls; if they used male embryos, the female native population would be unable to carry the calves to term.
He set about making inquiries about who might need his new products, and when he found out about acquiring a sales license and setting up his stall in the market just outside the main port, he had more customers than he had products for. This set off a bidding war. And it turned out that he had made an incredible profit. Enough to fix his ship and make some upgrades. He still had a large credit balance, so he started looking for goods to get him closer to the core and the Capitol.
Meanwhile, the band of mercenaries and bounty hunters had arrived on Farmworld III within hours of the system-wide alert. Quan, their leader, stood at the edge of the main spaceport terminal, his cold eyes scanning the departure boards while his team fanned out across the facility.
“Rax, take the western docking bays. Jessa, monitor the passenger terminals. I want eyes on every ship that lifts off,” Quan ordered into his comm unit, his voice clipped and professional. “Vashin, you’re with me. We’re checking the cargo manifests.”
The first day yielded little. They identified the Star Shadow easily enough—a mid-sized freighter sitting in Bay 7, undergoing repairs. Quan posted two of his team to watch it in rotating shifts, hidden among the crowds of dock workers and merchants. Every person who approached the ship was photographed, cataloged, cross-referenced.
“Captain’s been in and out four times today,” Rax reported that evening. “Alone every time. No sign of the girl.”
Quan’s jaw tightened. “Keep watching. She has to surface eventually.”
Day two brought systematic searches. They split into pairs, methodically checking every hotel, boarding house, and inn within a five-kilometer radius of the port. Quan carried a holo-projector displaying Alliyanna’s image—her aristocratic features, auburn hair, and striking eyes impossible to miss.
“Seen this girl?” he asked innkeepers, desk clerks, street vendors.
The answers were always the same. No. Never seen her. Sorry.
By the third day, frustration was setting in. Quan stood in the port authority office, reviewing departure logs while Jessa hacked into the passenger manifests.
“Nothing,” she muttered, her fingers flying across her data pad. “I’ve checked every outbound flight for the past seventy-two hours. No matches to her biometrics, no suspicious bookings, no last-minute departures that fit the timeline.”
“She’s still here,” Quan said, his voice hard with certainty. “She can’t have left. We had people on the ground within two hours of the alert.”
He made a decision. If they couldn’t find the girl, they’d make her come to them. Within hours, Alliyanna’s holographic image was plastered across every public bulletin board in the port district. The reward posting was impossible to ignore: 50,000 credits for information leading to her capture, 100,000 for delivery to Duke Birsha’s representatives.
“Someone will talk,” Vashin said, watching a crowd gather around one of the postings.
But no one did.
Day four. Day five. The team grew restless. Quan paced the observation deck overlooking the Star Shadow, watching Talak conduct his business—selling goods, negotiating deals, arranging repairs. The captain moved freely, confidently, showing no signs of stress or urgency.
“He’s not acting like a man harboring a fugitive,” Rax observed.
“Or he’s very good at hiding it,” Quan countered.
They watched Talak load new cargo. They watched him pay for ship upgrades. They watched him return to his vessel each night, alone.
On the sixth day, Quan made his move.
“We’ve eliminated every possibility,” he told his team during their evening briefing. “She’s not in the hotels. She’s not on any departing ships. She’s not hiding in the port district. Which means someone’s sheltering her—and the captain knows where.”
“We could just ask him nicely,” Jessa said with a dark smile.
“We tried surveillance. We tried waiting. Now we do this the hard way.” Quan’s eyes were cold. “Rax, Vashin—you’re with me. We take him tonight after he leaves the ship. Make it look like a robbery gone wrong. No witnesses.”
They struck just after midnight. Talak was walking the short distance from a supply depot back to Bay 7 when three figures emerged from the shadows. He barely had time to register the threat before a stun baton caught him in the ribs. He went down hard, gasping.
“Just your credits, friend,” Quan said loudly for the benefit of any potential witnesses. “Don’t make this difficult.”
But once they had him in the abandoned warehouse on the industrial district’s edge, the pretense dropped.
Quan pulled up a chair and sat across from Talak, who was bound to a support beam, blood already trickling from his split lip.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Talak managed.
The first day of interrogation was almost civilized. Questions. Threats. The occasional blow to emphasize a point. Talak’s story never changed: he’d transported a passenger, she’d disembarked at Farmworld III, he hadn’t seen her since.
“You’re lying,” Quan said calmly. “We’ve watched every departure. She never left.”
“Then maybe she’s better at hiding than you are at finding,” Talak shot back, earning himself a vicious backhand.
Day two was worse. They brought in Jessa, who specialized in chemical interrogation. The injections made Talak’s head swim, made his thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm. But somewhere deep inside, he held onto one truth: he would not give up Alliyanna’s location. He would not betray Kahlan.
“The safe house,” Quan pressed, his face inches from Talak’s. “You have friends here. Where would you hide someone?”
“Go to hell,” Talak whispered.
By day three, Talak could barely see through his swollen eyes. His ribs were cracked, his hands broken. Every breath was agony. The chemicals in his system made it hard to think, hard to remember why he was resisting.
Quan leaned in close. “Your friend Kahlan. The mechanic. He has a repair shop on the south side, doesn’t he? And a safe house in the back?”
Talak’s heart sank. They already knew. They’d always known.
“If you don’t tell us,” Quan continued, his voice almost gentle now, “we’ll just go there anyway. But we’ll burn it to the ground with everyone inside. Your choice, Captain. Give us the location, and maybe your friends survive this.”
Something broke inside Talak. Not his will—that had been eroding for three days—but his hope. If they already knew about Kahlan, if they were going there anyway, what was the point of holding out?
“The repair shop,” he croaked. “South industrial district. Kahlan’s Mechanics. There’s a safe room in the back, behind the parts storage.”
Quan smiled. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
He stood, nodding to Vashin. “Give him the injection. Dump him in the streets near the port. If he survives, fine. If not...” He shrugged.
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