If he’d question that, what else could I make him question?
Taking a deep breath, I raise myself to my full height and point an accusing finger at the Captain.
“Would your law be any different, Captain Aelon? Would you refuse to allow any other commanding officer the right to bear the punishment sentenced to his men? It’s not a question of law, Captain – it’s one of honor.”
I watch Aelon bristle when his honor is questioned. I’m lucky – half of me was concerned he’d adopt the role of a scoundrel, and scoff at my question of his so-called honor…
…but, instead, he’s offended to hear it being challenged.
I double-down – narrowing my eyes to growl: “Do you have honor, Captain Aelon?”
I’m calling his bluff. It’s tense – but I know he can’t back down. The punishment is due – one of his crewmembers is injured, and someone must be held accountable…
…but I’m gambling that this flippant, cocky commander isn’t quite cold-hearted enough to make me suffer a hundred lashes – and almost certainly be sent to my grave.
I know he won’t do it. I’d known ever since I saw the way he’d stared at me back in his bedchamber.
Captain Aelon wants me.
Herein lies my only chance to save Theme – and potentially spare my other crewmates a lot of agonizing pain. I’m counting on the fact that Aelon will be torn between the desire to perform his command honorably – by holding us accountable, according to the rule of law – and his protective instincts towards me; assuming that he actually lusts after me, as I suspect.
But am I prepared for what might happen as a result? I can only hope that my assumptions are correct – that no Aurelian would punish an innocent woman to the point of death, and that Captain Aelon wouldn’t satisfy his lust for me against my will.
I know he aches for me, though – and while his massive size and dominant nature make me feel vulnerable and defenseless, his lust for my body might be the most powerful weapon I have. Right now, I know it’s my only tool for negotiation.
As I stand defiantly in front of Aelon, I see my crew staring up at me with new respect. Even Chris, who’s always had a hard time following orders, is now looking at me like an equal.
I suddenly realize that he won’t ever disobey me again. If I get us out of this mess alive, Chris and the rest of my crew will be loyal to me until the day I die.
And then Aelon’s voice brings me crashing back to reality.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Captain Tasha.”
I gulp. “That’s what being a Captain means. Risk is our business.”
Aelon’s face instantly transforms. A moment earlier, he’d been radiating harsh anger – enraged by my crew’s betrayal of his hospitality, and my seemingly selfless offer to take their punishment in lieu of the ones actually responsible…
…and then, like flicking a switch, his face is filled with that signature cocky arrogance. The shift is instantaneous – and the smirk that crawls over his lips is as revolting to me as a scuttling bug.
I’m not sure what I did wrong – but I suddenly get the feeling that Captain Aelon had retaken the upper hand in this unspoken game of chess we’re playing. I don’t know how, though. I can’t predict this cunning, cocky alien.
Aelon breathes: “Very well. Then you shall take your punishment.”
My heart skips a beat. Raw terror suddenly pulses through me.
I’d anticipated a lot of things – but not this.
I’d never expected Captain Aelon to be quite so callous. If he’s serious – if he truly will adhere to the rule of law, and allow me to accept the punishment due to all five of my crew…
…well, I’m a dead woman.
One hundred lashes will kill me twice. The first thirty would be enough to cause serious damage – scars you’ll wear for a lifetime. I wouldn’t make it to forty, no matter how tough and strong I pretend to be.
I try to control my breathing. I don’t want the last images my crew have of me to be those of panicked hyperventilation.
One hundred lashes!
Suddenly, there’s one more course of action I realize is available to me – and as terrible as it sounds, it sure as hellfire beats the inevitable alternative.
“I’ll take the air lock,” I demand.
At least that will be a fast death.
I just wish I could see Sawoot one last time before I go. I just wish I could tell her to be strong, and that command of the Wayward Scythe – assuming anybody gets it back – is hers.
Death by airlock.
I gulp. It’s an ancient punishment – preceding even the invention of airlocks, which maintain the atmosphere or pressure from one environment to the other.
The term comes from a time before we took to the stars, when captains sailed the open seas of Old-Earth upon massive wooden vessels powered by the wind and sail.
Back then, a man or woman would be executed by ‘walking the plank’ – forced overboard, into the sea, to die by exposure… if sharks didn’t get them first.
You could perhaps last days out there – at best – before you succumbed to thirst, and started drinking the same salt water you drifted in, destroying your insides and only making yourself thirstier and thirstier...
In comparison, death by air lock is a merciful fate. It’s at least faster to die in the dead of space than the emptiness of an ocean – although it’s gory if you don’t know what to do. Should you ever find yourself expelled from an airlock – and Gods I hope you don’t – you have to breathe out and expel all the oxygen from your lungs the moment you plunge into the vacuum of space.
If you don’t? That same vacuum literally pulls the air out for you – and
