Chapter 4: Once Bitten

After raiding the food stores, the giant alien had fallen asleep on one of the bunks. She hadn’t even tried to get the cockpit keycode out of him again. Eriksen couldn’t believe how incompetent she was, she had given him the run of the ship with apparently no qualms about him attempting to escape. Maybe she was used to her victims becoming so pliant and passive that the thought of it hadn’t even crossed her mind.

The aft of the ship was probably still depressurized, the hangar bay along with it, but her shuttle was just sitting there with nobody supervising it. He could steal it, then fly it outside of the Warden’s jamming range. The alien couldn’t get access to the cockpit, and she would have no way off the freighter if he took the only shuttle. He would only have to wait for help to arrive, and then he’d be home free, she might have survived a nine-millimeter handgun but she sure as hell couldn’t weather a UNN Marine boarding party armed with railguns.

He would have to repressurize the bay, however. The rush of air as it escaped the hab module would rouse her, and she still had that emergency oxygen kit on her. She had also torn up his pressure suit, best to find one of the backups just in case. The freighter had taken enough damage that it would be foolish to assume that he could rely on the life support systems.

He made his way to one of the unused crew cabins, finding another yellow pressure suit and pulling it on over his clothes, securing the hood over his head. These damned things felt so fucking flimsy, it was like wearing a plastic raincoat. If only the shipping company gave enough of a shit about its pilots to provide them with sturdier gear. Some ship-to-ship weapons and maybe a CIWS system would be nice too, but that would probably violate a hundred UN security regulations. Fucking paper-pushers.

He crept out of the room and headed towards the door to the hangar, hoping that Nazka hadn’t damaged the motors when she had forced it open. He tapped at the touch panel that was built into the frame. It showed zero pressure on the other side and no atmo, he would need to close one of the bulkheads in the access tunnel that linked the fore of the freighter to the aft, could that be done from here? He didn’t dare to open the cockpit door, even temporarily. He couldn’t send a distress signal as long as the Warden was in range, and if Nazka happened to wake up at an inopportune moment, he’d be royally screwed.

He tinkered with the panel for a few minutes before discovering the command that he was searching for, and a two-dimensional map of the freighter appeared with the locations of all the bulkheads and doors. He selected the one furthest down the access tunnel, but it flashed a red warning symbol, indicating that it wasn’t functioning properly. Must have taken some damage during the explosion, no matter, he’d activate the one that was right in the middle of the tunnel. This one closed, showing a good seal, and he instructed the system to begin pressurizing the hangar.

It was a good job they hadn’t lost power, or the force field that stopped the air in the bay from escaping into space wouldn’t be active. Those things always made him nervous. There was nothing but a sheet of energized particles a nanometer thick separating him from the void. The barrier would allow solid objects to pass, however, meaning that it was quite possible to fall through if you were careless.

The hangar took an excruciating amount of time to pressurize, being the largest space on the freighter, Eriksen dancing nervously at the control panel as he waited impatiently. Nazka could awaken at any moment and deliver some horrific punishment if she caught him trying to escape, and he felt an unwelcome pulse in his loins at the thought of it. He almost regretted leaving without going all the way with her first, he wouldn’t get another chance, but it was more than his life was worth.

Come on Eriksen, stop thinking with your dick and get the hell out of here, he thought to himself as he watched the blue bar that indicated hangar pressure slowly fill. You can buy all the women you want with your company hazard pay when you’ve got solid ground under your feet.

The door finally slid open, Eriksen wincing under his plastic hood, afraid that the sound would wake Nazka. He hurried into the bay, his eyes fixed on the old shuttle. The landing ramp was still down, and the alien hadn’t even thought to secure it. This was almost too easy. He mounted the ramp, making his way through the troop bay and into the cockpit. This model really was archaic, and he was amazed that it was still spaceworthy. The pilot’s chair had been modified for use by Borealans, he felt like a child as he hopped up into the oversized bucket seat. The rest of the shuttle was all built with human measurements in mind, and a Borealan pilot would have to lean down regardless to avoid hitting their head. He removed his hood and took a breath of fresh air. Okay, time to fly this crate out of here.

He flipped the switches to spool the main engines and hit the button to raise the ramp, performing a hasty pre-flight check as he prepared to leave the hangar. His heart pounded in his chest, he was almost free, just a few minutes more then he’d be in open space. Nazka would have no possible way to reach him.

Nothing was happening. He stared at the console, confused, and flipped the switches again. Still nothing. He started to panic, tapping at the touch panel to check the status of the systems, but it was as if everything was dead. Was there some kind of security lock on the ship? Could he break into it or find some way to hack it? He was running out of time, his window was closing. Nazka wouldn’t stay asleep forever. He started to hit more buttons and flip more switches in a panic, but nothing worked, nothing responded.

He froze as he heard heavy footsteps behind him, claws clicking on the landing ramp as a shadow was cast over him. Nazka blocked the door to the cockpit as she loomed over him, then he felt her claws sink into the padding on his seat, the alien slowly rotating the chair to face her.

“You can’t fly it,” she said, lifting her hand and wiggling her fingers. “It’s locked to my pad-print.”

Eriksen sank into the chair, crossing his arms and scowling up at her, her smirk boiling his blood.

“You must really think I’m stupid,” she said. “I wouldn’t let you run around on your own if I thought that there was any chance of you escaping, and I know that you’re too weak to do any real damage to me if you tried to brain me with a fire extinguisher in my sleep or something. You can’t lock me in a room and vent it either, because I have my oxygen mask, and I can force those flimsy cabin doors open.”

She lurched towards him suddenly, closing her large, furry hand around his throat. She choked him, Eriksen gripping her furry forearm, gagging as she crushed his windpipe with her powerful fingers.

“Now what should your punishment be for trying to escape? I could choke you out, but I don’t know how long humans can go without oxygen. You’ll be no fun to play with if I turn you into a vegetable.”

His eyes widened as he battered her arm with blows, his lips starting to turn blue.

“Oh, I know!” She released him, and he fell back into the chair, gasping for breath and rubbing the spreading bruise on his neck. “You know what Borealans do when they want to let other people know that someone belongs to them?”