Root CGD: 3288.29
CinT Ark Loc: Y2CAL.21.F
“I can give you another hit, but I’d recommend against it…”

I wanted another badly, had asked for it even though I knew another would make it impossible to think. Cheryl looked worried; that meant there was something else wrong, and it had nothing to do with me or my wanting some relief from whatever was trying to rip my insides apart.

“Ssship?” I asked, instantly gasping in pain after getting that question verbalized.

I needed that second ‘hit’ of Senian to dull whatever this pain was, but I needed to know the ship's status before I considered letting my mind go to mush on some alien planets narcotic.

“The Q-tacts down, and we’re adrift. We’re using the docking thrusters to keep us steady in the hole. Life support, shields, coms, and long-range scanners are all operational on the backup cells. We’ve requested support from Libat III, and a ship should be here within the hour to cup-link us back to that station for repair,” she reported with the efficiency I’d come to appreciate over the five CGD years she’d been my First Officer on the Barrow Gar.

That this tub of a space freighter was without its main propulsion systems, the archaic Q-tact hybrid nuclear power plant, was a problem, but she was a tough old girl. It likely wouldn’t take too much to get her operational again once in port—though I was sure it would cost me a heap of coin, credits, and likely a few future smuggling favors to get the job done right and ahead of other paying customers. The Barrow Gar being a long forgotten class of freighter was considered a heap of scrap by those who dared to try making a living traversing space delivering supplies with her. Most of her siblings had been scuttled long ago, and I’d only seen one other of her kind long ago when I was in my late teens.

Her saving grace was how efficient she was at her role—when she was running well. She could take a kick in the proverbial ass most modern-day ships couldn’t and still get you to your destination. Deep space wasn’t someplace you wanted to break down, and generally speaking, she rarely did. That meant whatever hit us was certainly big and hadn’t done our propulsion system and ultimately our delivery schedule any favors.

More problematic, this deep into the Marris Wormhole, was maintaining our position within it. I should be piloting the ship, but knew with someone as skilled as Marcus at the helm he’d be able to keep us from the sides of the wormhole and prevent it from ripping the ship apart—even if he had to do that with just the docking thrusters. At least there was a bright side to whatever was trying to rip my innards to shreds.

I closed my eyes for a second to navigate the pulsing, burning torture happening within my body, and when I opened them again, Cheryl’s face said there was more she needed to tell me. Fuck me! Seriously?!

“Go,” I croaked, asking for what was sure to be more bad news.

“You’re not the only one who’s down, sir,” she said steadily and with a touch of remorse in her tone.

Wait a second, others are like this, but you’re not... It dawned on me that she appeared to be fine, but I wasn't, and she was saying there were others of my crew experiencing this condition I was in—shit!

“Woo…,” I couldn’t finish my question and stiffened as the pain rolled deep beneath my skin and into every muscle. I felt the burning intensify, the tearing sensation, the… “Fuck!” I hissed painfully and clamped my eyes shut as I stiffened to ride out another wave of excruciating pain.

“Whatever hit us did us no favors. Best guess right now is it was some kind of conductive particle wave well above Y-Gama state the sensors weren’t able to pick up or give us any advanced warning before it hit. The computer hasn’t yet identified where it originated from, which is odd because we’re alone out here as best I can tell. The standard shields were ineffective at that pulsing band, and, well, that only adds to the questions of how that strike was even possible.”

“Masked ship?” I barely got that out and gulped in a quick breath, releasing it in little huffs that did nothing to squelch how much I was actually hurting.

“No and no propulsion signatures, gases, particles or anything else for that matter, according to the sensors. It could have come from outside the wormhole, but if that’s the case, it would be a first and mean we’re dealing with advanced tech from a very advanced alien species. All I can be certain of is that it was a powerful strike to have taken out the Q-tact’s hardened control modules. Do you remember anything unusual going on before we were hit?”

With my eyes closed again, I slowly nodded that I didn’t. The last thing I remember doing was running a check on a subspace beacon relay code for an anomaly and waking up in my small stateroom in blinding pain. That pain wasn’t dulled at all, even though I’d been given a hit of Senian, and that this drug had done next to nothing to alleviate the pain – told me I was going to be screwed for a bit longer unless I could get Cheryl to give me another ‘hit’ of it.

Not that I’d wish this pain on anyone, but I was wondering why she wasn’t suffering.

“You… Not?” I nearly cried after asking that, clenching my fists tight against my thighs, fearing any additional movement I made would cause me to blackout.

“None of the women seem to have been affected,” she said solemnly. “You’re the last, sir...”

Women weren’t affected? I’m the last. The last what? I involuntarily rolled left and then right to ride out another onslaught of the burning, muscle piercing pain I felt within me. When it subsided, I looked at her, my sweat-soaked face likely pleading for her to make this pain stop in any way possible.

“You’re the last male crew member,” she whispered.

Huh?! Marcus, Greg, Lance, and that little shit of a load master Blake we hired on Cabot-Loch before this trip were all dead? Is that what she meant to report?

“Dehd?”

It was the best I could pronounce the word ‘dead’ in question form before the pain took my breath away, and I moaned uncontrollably. When I could finally refocus on her face, she could only nod that they were all dead. What the fuck?! Who is at the…

“Dee,” she said, knowing the concerned look on my face and that I wanted to know who was piloting the ship.

“You should be...,” I couldn’t help but suck in a strained breath while grimacing as I tried and finally got out the rest of my complaint, “Flying...”

“Dee will be fine for a couple minutes. Alarms will be going off if she screws anything up, and I’ll be up there quick enough.

“Look, a second hit of Senian is what put the other guys down for good. We weren’t very good about monitoring who got what and when. If I wanted to go out, that’s how I’d want it—not feeling a damn thing. They’re all in stasis pods now though, so we can preserve brain function until we can get them revived at Libat III’s medical facility.

“Computer analysis says our hormone differences may be what kept the women from being in the same state as the men. I’ve synthesized those properties from a blood draw, and if you take it, well, it could make this easier on you until we can get you to Libat III without the risk of Senian knocking you out permanently and maybe having to deal with residual revival complications of dying and being brought back at some point.

“You need to know that hormones in space are a crap shoot and tend to work differently than on Terra firma. Certainly anything can be reversed, but I wanted you to know the score here before you decide, Cameron.”

The concern in her face spoke volumes, and that she was calling me by my full first name, a rarity in and of itself from her usual ‘Sir’ or ‘Captain’ or occasionally ‘Cam’, confirmed she was concerned about the choice I was going to make. I could go with Senian and likely die in peace like my other male crew members and wait to be revived with potential long-lasting side effects or possibly get some relief by taking on female hormones until we made it to Libat III and the medical facility there. My choices feel awful fucked up either way...

“Do it,” I croaked softly.

I watched her place the medi-ject instrument against my neck and press the button all in one fluid motion. No countdown, no candy coating the sting of the contents of the injection being delivered subcutaneously.

Ridiculously, I had hoped there’d be some instant relief, but there wasn't, and I ended up ridding another round of crippling pain coursing through my body while she prepared me for a stasis pod to wait out the cup-link ship arrival and the towing of my ship to Libat III.

“I hope that kicks in and gives you a little relief. I’ll keep tabs on you from the bridge. Talk soon; hang in there, sir, okay,” she said, placing her hand on the glass viewing window of the stasis pod before leaving me alone with my struggling against the pain.

I closed my eyes, trying hard not to puke up the mug of Clarion ale I’d drank a few hours ago as the pain rolled on harder than at any other point since I’d regained consciousness. I stopped...

Root CGD: Unknown date/time (Earth Day 3 in captivity)
CinT Ark Loc: Unknown coordinates
I’d woke three days ago disoriented and with plenty of concerns. The first was that my surroundings were prison cell-like and that meant I was in some kind of trouble. I should probably be relieved my accommodations weren’t medical in nature and that my body wasn’t still being ripped apart internally by whatever had hit my ship.

If I was a prisoner, I had the obvious questions to chew on while I waited for someone to speak to me: Why am I being held? Where’s my ship and crew? And what had we done wrong to piss off the Planetary Guild—this time?

I wasn’t sure how long it had been since I last saw Cheryl or what the Common Galactic Date (CGD) was, but since being removed from stasis and deposited here, my captors had been adjusting the lighting in this cell on a schedule. I figured at least three CGD days had passed, and none of those days went by very quickly. I found it interesting that whoever was keeping me captive was trying to simulate sunrise and sunset as if I were on ancient Earth or a similarly categorized planet that circled a sun or one of the larger known plasmatic stars.

So much to wonder about, little chance I’ll die from boredom.

The cell I was in had technology not generally found in any of the prisons I’d ever spent time in, like the automated lighting and climate controls geared to my bodies comfort. The idea of keeping me on a schedule was certainly different and unexpected. I had to consider my captors wanted to maintain my health and sleep cycle or cynically to maintain my compliance by making me feel more comfortable or at home on my home planet.

This cell was bigger than I was used to being confined in at four by four meters. There was the typical prison-like cot/bed and an open bathroom area with a wet shower facility that drained in the corner. An in-room shower wasn’t typical of any prison I’d had the displeasure of spending time in during my twelve CGD years of space travel, but it was an appreciated amenity – as was having this cell to myself.

I’d been confined in worse places and had a few sketchy captive situations, so I was thankful for the luxurious surroundings I was being held in at the moment.

Food was being delivered twice daily, if you could call the same thick beige paste food. It would appear on a shelf in the corner of the two blank walls of the cell without warning, roughly around midmorning and again in what I assumed was early evening due to the softer lighting in the cell. The paste was warm, gritty, and void of any recognizable flavor or taste. It did fill me up by the time I was slurping the last of the paste from the bowl it was provided in with my fingers.

My kingdom for a spoon! How wasn’t something as simple as a spoon not on the radar of any advanced species or race of beings running this place?!

I’d kill for something different to wash it all down with, like a mug of ale. The overly synthesized liquid they considered water was difficult to drink and had a strong metallic aftertaste. It was served in the same kind of bowl as the paste, though if I wanted more I could get some from the tiny sink or shower at any time.

Being able to move around under my own power had been a big concern after waking. Actually being able to stand or walk had taken two days to accomplish well enough that I didn’t have to crawl to the toilet or to the food they were leaving me and struggle to reach the shelf. I still relied on the walls to keep me upright at times still, but I was getting more of my strength back every day. I figured I must have been in stasis for a while, and it was likely they’d tried to recondition my atrophic muscles a little before dumping me in here given some of my muscle aches—unless that was residual pain from whatever I’d been suffering with on the ship.

I’d once spent four CGD months in a stasis pod once, and I couldn’t stand or walk for a week without assistance and had done many hours of muscle reconditioning probe sessions. I had marks on my legs and arms that verified I’d been given those treatments here, which probably helped me to be up and mobile now. I had been fairly fit, though not muscular, pre-whatever hit the ship and ending up here. Realizing it was going to take time to get my strength back fully and not rush it was the key I remember from my last time being in this state.

Besides pacing to distract myself from all the time I had on my hands, I decided to explore and tap around every inch of the cell I could reach earlier this morning in search of some nonexistent escape route. If I hadn’t done that futile search, what kind of prisoner would my captors think I was? I didn’t want to disappoint them and hoped they weren’t mind readers like the race of beings from N’Arbs, because I had some seriously violent thoughts running through my head with all this free time I had sitting around in here alone.

As best I could tell, no implant had been inserted in my body that would encourage my compliance if I acted out or became violent when I finally did get a chance to meet my captors. I had experience with an implant on Maretic, and after being release found out the way they attached it with the nerves in my spine that removal could paralyze me if done wrong. I skipped having it removed for making a quick exit from that planet. I could have gone back to Maretic and paid through the nose for its removal, but I figured it wasn’t worth possibly ending up in their prison again for whatever reason struck their fancy – like the first time I’d been jailed there.

Though the device they put in me was deactivated years ago, I swear I could feel a ghostly remembrance of its effects on my body when I was anywhere near large magnetic fields. That implant had the ability to not only lock up every muscle in my body but also leave a lasting pain memory I wasn’t interested in my captors on Maretic repeating. I’d gotten zapped once and learned my lesson to follow their instructions to the letter.

Being held prisoner here was nothing like when we’d been ‘detained’ in the Delany Galaxy on one of the moons orbiting Valanta. At least there our alien captors were good about getting my crew and I charged with crimes, getting me eventually fined, and shortly after restitution was made we were all released without a prison sentence. That incarceration had been an obvious credit grab, and we lost our cargo that trip. The majority of it was illegal according to the Planetary Guild, but we were free to freighter and smuggle another day, so taking the loss on that one was a no-brainer.

That experience had ended up being seven CGD days of our lives we’d never get back—was this going to be more time lost to the abyss of Planetary Guild bullshit and another credits grab on Libat III?

I’d tried multiple times to communicate with my captors or others who might hear me in neighboring cells—thus far no one was interested in talking with me. I hoped to hell my ship and crew were being treated decently. Based on what Cheryl had told me, I was the only male to make it through that ordeal before going into stasis. That left four of us that could be locked up in here for whatever reason—that is, if the women of my crew hadn’t been killed or traded into slavery. I wondered if our captors would try to revive the men who’d died due to the effects of Senian and were in a stasis-holding state.

With all those concerns barking loudly for my attention, there was another that had me a bit more worried. There were unexpected changes to my body from the hormones Cheryl had given me and I hadn’t planned for. The most obvious change was the additional weight on my chest due to breast material being present. These new additions easily filled my hands when I cupped them, were sore and tender – but hadn’t kept me from exploring them a couple times while showering. I was worried about having nipples that were enlarged and puffy on top of these new mounds on my chest. Those looked nothing like anything I’d seen on any women before, and that added to my fear that something was wrong with them, with me.

Holding them was a pleasurable experience though, and absolutely new territory with the depths those pleasures took me. I think when I got my body back, after getting the effects of female hormones reversed, I might actually miss these additions for that deeper connection to something akin to sexual pleasures. These changes were going to be an educational detour ultimately, but not how I wanted to live life long-term.

I wouldn’t have thought a single dose of female hormones would have produced this much breast growth.

Breast tissue development wasn’t the only change I’d experienced. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my imagination that my skin felt softer now and hair growth was finer not only on my face but also on my arms and legs. What little fat I had pre-injection seemed to be collecting around my hips and ass, and I could be mistaken, but I was sure my voice sounded a little different to me the few times I’d yelled to try and get my captors attention.

My body smelled different, which was odd, and I couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. I still farted, though I figured that wasn’t something hormones would have changed, and I knew plenty of women farted—though wouldn’t ever admit it. The food they were providing saw to it I had plenty of gas to release.

The final change was probably the most embarrassing and concerned the diminished size of my manhood. I’d bet it was close to half the size I remembered, though arguably I wasn’t all that well endowed prior to Cheryl injecting me. What I had now was stressing me more than I’d expected—not just its size, but it not reacting to any stimuli—which I’d tried a few times just to see if it would increase in size with a little coaxing. Nope, no size increase and just hanging there uninterested in anything I’d tried doing with it.

I wasn’t worried that any of these changes couldn’t be reversed at some point. I’d seen it happen on many planets in my years of freighting goods between the various galaxies. That this was happening to my body and not what I’d expected or wanted did make it unsettling. And if the changes to my body weren’t concerning enough, the time I spent crying for no apparent reason when I thought about being alone, wondering about my crew, or whether I’d ever get out of here, was even more of a concern. I was solidly writing that off to the hormones screwing with my emotions and mental state, making me sappy and gooey inside when my mind wondered and the loneliness threatened to suffocate me.

I really wanted that change to my being to end, the crying fits I was having—and sooner than later.

Everyone knew that if someone wanted to live as the opposite gender and had enough credits, coins, or class sway, they could make it happen easily enough on nearly every planet Earthlings had been accessing for the past CGD century. And you weren’t necessarily stuck once you swapped genders as long as you preserved an original DNA sample before transition so a specialized facility could get you back to your original configuration—even if there were surgeries involved. That was mind-blowing to me, and I knew that while gender swapping wasn’t all that common, it did happen, and I knew of a few people who’d done it, and the idea of going back to their original form wasn’t ever going to be an option.

The idea that someone could be Transgendered or Trans was easily several thousand CGD years old. The stigma and violence that surrounded that choice was long forgotten given all the alien species humankind had interacted with over the years, including those that shape shifted or were asexual. For myself, I knew I wanted my old body back—nice tits be damned.

Root CGD: Unknown date/time (Earth Day 8 in captivity)
CinT Ark Loc: Unknown coordinates
I woke with a renewed sense I was being manipulated by my captors and with an interesting clue in my hand to strengthen that idea. The past two nights I’d been falling asleep so easily and quickly after the afternoon meal that I had wondered if I was being drugged. To test that theory, I decided to fight falling asleep last night after the lights dimmed fully, and try as I might, I couldn’t stay awake for very long.

The obvious question was: why? Why was I being drugged?

With little to do but pace, exercise, cry, or deal with keeping the silk bag of a dress-like garment I was wearing from rubbing my sensitive puffy nipples, I did a fair amount of lying around staring at the ceiling considering that question. If they were drugging me, it was being done with the food or maybe the water my captors were supplying. I had to consider it was possible they were screwing with the air being pumped into the cell, but thought the easier delivery method had to be through the food.

Adding to the idea I was being drugged was the fact I’d had the same exact dream two nights in a row. In those dreams, a human male was sitting on my bed with me. I might have written that off the first time as not being a clue to having been drugged, but I couldn’t accept that having the exact same dream a second time last night.

What I remembered about him in the ‘dream’ was that he had very red hair, never spoke, and basically just sat there next to me holding my hand as I lay there in bed looking up at him. Why I hadn’t spoken, given how desperate I was to talk to anyone, added to my being drugged suspicions. I couldn’t remember hearing if he might have said anything, so that did throw a little doubt on my suspicions.

Yet I was certain it couldn’t have been a dream because this morning in my hand I found a single red hair.

No, it hadn’t been a dream some guy had been with me in my cell—he absolutely had been in my cell with me! But why?! Why drug me so I couldn’t interact with him? That’s what I needed to know, and it had been driving me crazy since I’d woken up this morning! Plus, the guy left the hair on purpose, as a message, to let me know I wasn’t alone—I was sure of that given how caring his eyes looked to me while he sat with me.

I’m sure my captors hadn’t expected him to leave evidence I’d been visited the past couple nights – too bad!

Whatever the reason for the single hair or visit or drugging me that was going on, I made a decision that I would dump the morning beige gruel into the toilet after it was delivered. I also made sure those keeping tabs on me saw me examining the hair that had been left. I wasn’t shy about comparing it to my own hair, which was longer than it had ever been and finer too.

When the evening meal appeared and I began walking the bowl over to the toilet to dump it, the lights in my cell flashed three times. I froze and instinctively looked up, then noticed the wall to my left because it had changed from looking like metal to being transparent. On the other side of the glass wall was the red-headed man I’d seen the past two nights. He was sitting on his bed looking back at me, though not nearly as surprised to see me as I was him.

I watched him stand, walk to the wall, and smile as he placed a hand on the glass. I set the bowl of gruel down and walked over to face him.

“Can you hear me?”

He shook his head, 'No,’ and I think he mouthed ‘Sorry’ in reply.

“We’re prisoners?”

He looked confused, then mouthed ‘prison’ back at me and nodded ‘No’. Really, that doesn’t make sense; how wasn’t this a prison we were in?

“You sure?”

He nodded ‘Yes’.

“How long?” I asked. He looked confused again, so I touched my hands together, spreading them apart, and repeated the question.

He got it, shrugged, and flashed his ten fingers at me too many times to count before shrugging again. He held up two single fingers close together and spread his hands apart.

Great, he’s been here a while—'too long'. I wanted to cry but steeled myself. I saw him tilt his head and say a single word, 'Sue'.

Huh? Yeah, unlikely we’ll be able to sue anyone for being held here, I thought. I shook my head ‘No’ and he quickly shook his head ‘No’ back at me.

“What?” I asked.

He got a little closer to the glass and looked at his hand placed against the glass like wall, nodding at me towards it.

“What?”

Another nod towards his hand was my answer as he looked at me concerned, maybe pleading with me to comply. Tentatively, I put my hand on the glass where his was, expecting some kind of shock or jolt, and when nothing came, he put his forehead on the glass wall.

I just stood there staring at him, wondering what he was trying to do; none of this made any sense because there was a barrier between us. After a moment I gave up and stepped away, which got me a quick slap on the glass wall—it made no sound, but him having done that startled me.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I yelled at him.

He held a finger up, wagging it as if beckoning me back. When I didn’t move, he mouthed, ‘Please’. I stepped closer, placed my hand against the glass where his was, and watched him lean his head against the glass again. With his free hand, he brought it near my face, touched a single finger to the glass, and moved it as if he were spelling something. He was watching me closely to see if I was paying attention, and I had to mouth ‘Again’ because I’d misunderstood what he was trying to do the first time.

Slowly, he traced his finger on the glass. I guessed the first letter was ‘2’, maybe a backwards ‘S’, and the last two were O’s or zeroes. I watched him step back and mouth the word again.

“Sue? Soo? Coo? Two-hundred?” I said aloud and shook my head at him that I didn’t understand and wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell me.

'No.’ He shook his head at me after taking a step back and then drew a giant backwards ‘S’ in the air, just not as rounded this time.

I shrugged back, which got me an exasperated look, until I got that what I thought was an ‘S’ was actually...

“Zoo?” I asked aloud even though I knew he couldn’t hear me.

He shook his head slowly, ‘Yes’ this time. There appeared to be a deep sadness in his eyes for having just shared the reality of our situation with me.

The tears welled quickly in my eyes, and I turned away as I began crying so he wouldn’t see me doing that. It took almost a minute before I finally felt like I’d gotten my shit together, and when I turned around, the wall had gone back to its original metal-like state again. NO!! My heart sank…

I was instantly sobbing at the idea he was gone, that I was alone again, and that we were possibly specimens in a zoo...

::: --- :::

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Rachel M. Moore