Humanity in the Deep

Kat was woken by a hatch opening. Before she could get her bearings, about a dozen men rushed in. One of them hit her hard in her stomach, and she would have doubled over if there had been gravity. Another braced himself and pushed her through the hatch. She hit the wall on the other side with a thud, knocking the wind out of her.

All the people from the Erikson were being dragged out. Most of them being punched in the stomach beforehand.

Two led her by force away from the cell. They pulled her hands behind her back and put manacles on them, doing the same to her legs. Her wrists and ankles were rubbed raw as they took turns shoving her forward or holding her manacles while jumping off the walls. They were larger than her and had scars over their bodies. One had a bandage over his arm that was bleeding and would sometimes leak. They hardly talked to each other during the entire trip. Except, of course, when one would shove her against a wall and she would cry out in pain, and they would laugh.

It took twenty minutes for them to get to their destination. The manacles were removed, and she was tossed into a small room and forced to the back wall. Her feet were shackled to the ground and her torso and arms tied to the wall behind her.

Shortly after that, several women came in with a box about half a meter wide. They put it on the floor and one drew what looked like a pistol and pointed it at Kat’s head.

The local grunted something at her and she became very still. The gun was kept on her while the other two opened the box.

It contained large bladders of water, sponges, and smaller bulbs with a rose-colored liquid. They were babbling something to each other while they used a small tube to wet the large sponges.

When they were both wet, they aggressively cleaned Kat. She resisted at first, particularly when they went between her legs, but the gun pointed at kept things into perspective.

They were very clinical. Although, something was off about them; they almost looked like they enjoyed her discomfort. Strangely, they cleaned her wounds. She would have been more grateful but at least one of them looked to be enjoying the pain it caused her.

After they applied the scented rose-colored liquid to her skin, one of them held her while the other measured her. They measured her bust, height, and waist and took a picture of her.

After they were done, one of them spread Kat’s legs wide, backed up, and smiled to herself. It did not make Kat feel better.

They left and Kat was alone again.

---

A short time later, a man in a uniform came into the room. He was very tall and stood right in front of her with what looked like a large boxy comp in his hands and one of the translators attached to his ear.

The translators had been given as a gift and sent to the locals via courier drone. A gift given as a token of friendship.

She thought of the death his people had caused on the Erikson. If she could have moved, she would have killed him with her bare hands. She tried to break the chains, but she could hardly move her arms.

While looking down at her, he spoke and seconds later, it was translated emotionlessly into, “Please detail your personal history, your skills, your abilities, and anything else that would make you useful. We also would like to know why your skin is so black. Is it a deformity?”

She just looked at him.

He sighed, then kicking her in the stomach said, “We are asking the same of your companions, non-response will be met with pain. If you lie, we will use your body for experimentation. I suggest you tell me why you are useful and convince me you are honest by telling me why your friends would be useful.”

It was somehow more terrifying spoken through the translator.

She looked him in the eyes, and smoothly as she could, said, “My name is Katrina Powell, a pilot, and was recently trained to be a marine. My black skin is hereditary.” She spat the words at him, trying to not let herself be intimidated or frightened.

It was like a terrifying job interview. He only seemed to be a little interested in her skin. Thinking about it, she realized that they all had the same white skin tone and were all close to the same height and build.

After he was done, he cupped one of her breasts and smiled. The guards then put the manacles back on and led her back out. The trip back was slower than the trip to the room had been; Kat was able to look around and she saw terror when the people they passed saw the uniform of the man who was escorting her.

--

They threw her back into the cell. It looked like she was the second to last to get back. The only one missing was Camie, Isaac’s girlfriend. She taught dancing and singing as far as Kat knew, but they were never really close.

Lieutenant Commander John Corwin was talking to Bruce in the corner. Corwin was grabbed from engineering, as was his daughter, Ensign Jacklyn. Corwin was tall and lanky with the confident movement most officers got that reminded her of Kyle.

Bruce Sturgeon was a fusion and plasma drive engineer who was unlucky enough to be working on one of the boats at the wrong time and was taken. He was the one who was forced to pilot the boat on lifeboat mode with a gun to the back of his head. He was older, past forty for sure.

He was looking at Isaac with an expression that Kat couldn’t read.

She heard a commotion and saw Camie being pulled by her hair into the room. She was crying, and had blood over her head. One of her arms looked dislocated.

Beside her, she heard Isaac start to growl. It was guttural. She knew that feeling too well.

When Camie looked at Isaac, Kat knew what would happen and was ready.

He moved his legs and arms behind himself, ready to leap. Just before he did so, Kat leapt onto him and put her arm over his shoulder, holding him still.

“Let me go!” She was having a hard time holding him until Corwin and Sturgeon helped.

The locals let Camie go. With difficulty, she made her way to Isaac where they hugged and cried into each other’s shoulders.

The locals looked dumbfounded. They were waving their arms and babbling with another. The one with the most ornamentation talked on his radio for a bit then motioned for three of his companions. Two of them took up positions to cover the room, the third put a gun to Isaac’s head. Camie was then taken and placed flat against the deck.

The leader then turned on the translator, took out a knife, and held it to her stomach. He said, “I am planning to kill her slowly, would you be willing to take her place?”

Isaac’s eye’s bugged out, and he started to sweat as he said, “Yes, yes, please don’t hurt her!”

The leader put the knife back in it’s holster and, looking astonished, said, “Children?”