The route

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. When Bethany begged and screamed inside the airlock it echoed through the hull of the ship. When we opened the door she held on with all her strength and still the vacuum of space yanked her out. No doubt she froze mid scream; the air sucked from her lungs. Calling space cold is like calling war an argument. If she had been a pure blood, the sound of her scream would have warped metal, and made our ears bleed. If she could have, she would have killed us all along with herself.

It’s important to note it was not my idea, or my decision, to flush her out the airlock. In fact I was against it, same as I would have been for anyone. It would have been kinder to shoot her in the back or slit her throat while she slept. Instead, captain’s orders… flush her out the airlock. That’s exactly what we did.

Joe and I half held, half dragged her to the bay. She snarled and managed to bite Joe pretty good. He had two of his arms around her chest, and the other two trapping her head. (Between you and me: I have tussled with him before, he is terrible with head locks).

She bucked and kicked me so hard her boot caught my face. I’ve been trying to staunch the blood from my nose since Rick punched her lights out. Only then did we manage to toss her into the dock lock. But she came to, too fast. We had just taken out the ear stops when she started screaming. Her normally red skin turned purple. Rage spots flaring on her… let me stop and tell you how we got to this point.

My name is Dujoun, but you can call me Mustard. No it’s not because my hair is yellow. It is, but that’s not why. I’ve been flying with this crew for about seventeen universal months; an UMs is approximately 39 earth solar days. I am a standard crew member, some might call me a flight attendant. Most people think all you need for space flight is a pilot, copilot, mechanic or two depending on the size of your ship, a galley cook, a captain, a medic of some kind, and customs liaison. That’s just dead wrong. You need at least 5 to 10 crew members so those folks have time to eat let alone take a dump.

Cargo ships can get by with five, maybe four, especially if they fly a regular job. But passenger ships need at least eight. A seasoned spaceship flies a regular run. A smart passenger ship has defense tech in proper working order. A wise ship never takes on anything that oozes. We have a wise captain.

If you are lucky, one of the people on board any ship has some decent barbering skills. No such luck for me, which is why my hair has gotten so long. The crew of the Dario is now three attendants and the seven previously mentioned jobs, sans barber. Ten of us total. Bet had been with the crew for about five UMs, and the savage had sold our coordinates for the last 4 drops so we would be robbed. A loss of 173.7 million in product in less than an UMs.

On this last drop, we had just finished unloading into the warehouse. We were packing up the equipment to head to our next site, when the captain told Rick and me to take our time. Said we weren’t leaving right away. That was when Rick announced he needed to take a crap, and he would be back. It was night on this moon. Saffey our customs liaison, was handing over custody and order sheets; shooting the Willy bobo while he was at it. The man loves gossip, but that’s just how he is, friendly.

Rick took his time, and I sat on my rig waiting for long enough to finger comb and braid my hair three times. When he returned he just grinned at me, and told me, “It was a big one. Gonna have to air out the toilets” then he laughed and tossed me a bottle of electrolyte. “How long was I gone?” He asked as he hopped on his rig. I was already in my rig, I looked at him thoughtfully, he was in a good mood; sometimes Rick is just in a bad mood. I decided he wasn’t going to go off if I told him the truth. I checked the timesaver on my wrist, “about an hour and twenty.” He laughed and we finished stacking the boxes.

It was during our final sweep, when the chaos happened. I had just gone in to let the captain know we were about finished. Some thieves got the jump on Rick and our liaison Saffey. Saf now has a broken foot and is on pain pills. Nearly everyone came out to help with the fight, even Lachelle, our galley cook. We barely managed to knock them off. I jumped on my rig and used the pincers to break the thieves grip on the product. I used my scoop to attack their machines. I managed to hold them off, salvaging most the load before authorities arrived.

The warehouse was a flipping mess, one of the walls had a giant hole. Three people dead, nine injured. All that in twelve minutes. I don’t think it was meant to be a sting per se, at least it didn’t start that way. But, the cap did give us orders to take our time. And it’s been my experience that authorities always arrive thirty to forty-five minutes after you call.

I don’t know how the captain found out it was Bet, or even how she set this up. Thinking about stuff like that is above my paygrade. I do know 2 things: One- I was a suspect, but now I am cleared. (Naturally Saffey told me when I visited him. He was doped on painkillers; I didn't even know I was a suspect). Two: when the captain finally told us what was going on, Bet was nowhere to be found.

Before you go getting the wrong idea. We aren’t pirates, our business is legal. Dario is a courier ship for high end food subsidies, class 5 restricted medical supplies, (non refrigeration) to the planet of Zeta. On return we always come back with raw Fert mined on Jacob’s moon. We haul 15,000 tonne each way; our max capacity without burning out the thrusters. That makes the Dario a small class ship. It’s a three day hike each way, and it’s a pretty tight run.

Rick and I handle all machinery; I’m a driver, and I can drive almost anything. Bet worked with Joe to secure whatever Rick and I load/haul in; they also had fuel duties. We got other chores too, but mostly everyone is a two man team around here. Buddy system is real important in space flight.

Now I know pirates get a rep for throwing people off ship. The captain didn’t just decide to throw her over, that’s not how it works out here. He had evidence, sent it in to the authorities, we all gave testament by the com box, and got a swift judgment. Life in prison. He could have shipped her to a prison moon (at his own expense), or put her to death. Since her interrogation had lead to the capture of an entire ring of thieves with at least 19 murders and 350 million+ in suspected product loss, she was eligible for execution. Captain used the last of the vocal strainer, to get through the Interrogation. Bet screamed the first 5 minutes or so before the judges allowed a shot of liar’s syrup. After that, she couldn’t help but tell the truth. I left after my part was done.

The captain for his trouble is now on probation, and we won’t be hauling on this route anymore. His punishment for hiring her in the first place is losing one of the most lucrative contracts a private ship could score. I got this job because my dad stroked the right chancellor’s tentacles after I got my dishonorable discharge for… that’s not the point.

We make… made good money every trek, some of the best money. The new orders are about 1/20th of what we were making. Captain gave us the notice this morning, said we can’t afford to send her to a prison moon and to throw her out the airlock. Six UMs is how long we have to do the new contract. We can bid to do the subsidy gig again, if we have no slipsups. I joined this crew because of my pops and the pay.

Dishonorable discharge always comes with a contract repayment. Yeah the government is real greedy. You don’t finish your service, you pay them back everything they spent on and paid you. I made enough pay in my first 10 UMs to square off a good chunk from my legal trouble awhile back. 1/5th down in 17 UMs aint bad.

“Gonna have to tighten our belts round here for a while,” announced Rick as he slapped me on the back. I had just got my nose to stop bleeding and I was wiping my hand on my pocket rag. Rick and the captain are brothers and they are homo sapien sapien. “If I hadn’t said it I never liked that half breed, sirens are bad luck on a ship. Glad you weren’t the traitor.” He tousled my hair making my bun fall. It got awkward fast. Joe was already gone. It was just me and Rick, the most speciesist boot licker I have ever had the dissatisfaction of working with.

“I’m gonna get some sleep. Ss’gonna be a long trek to the outlands.” I patted his back and stepped away to face him. I nodded a little head nod, and I was out of there headed to my bunk. “Okay Goldie” he sighed. I waved and he turned and headed to his side of the ship.

See Rick thinks I am homo sapien sapien too. They aren’t the most advanced species, and they aren’t an apex predator, they are among a class of species the known universe describes as destructive and self sabotaging. It's a miracle that HoSS even discovered space flight, let alone other lifeforms. When they did they were still murdering each other and had no uniform planetary rule. Rick in particular doesn’t like mixed species especially HoSS mixes.

My mom and dad are half breeds, Rick would call us toads. I come from a heavily aquatic planet. And I do look mostly human, but my tongue is longer, a cool jump, I camouflage, secrete… not ooze! I don’t ooze! The Poison thing is not common for all races in my home world; there are others who secrete worse toxins than me. My skin is a natural golden yellow, I keep myself mostly camo to a muted humanoid yellowish tan brown, like some HoSS I have seen.

I grew up in one of the warmest climates on my home world, so I do real well in heat. I only secrete, it’s not poison per se, it is a toxin, and it stuns, but doesn’t kill. My toxin does not kill. I secrete when the situation is really bad. Like we are gonna die, bad. The toxin is illegal, because the effects last about 5 hours. Some species, less than a ¼ of all known species of the interstellar community, might stop breathing for those 5 hours. Most species die if they go 5 hours without breathing.

The amphibians on my home planet have to have special classifications and passes to travel off world. We study and pass a lot of exams for good jobs. Yes I was born there, I had a passport from the time my tail fell off. Look it’s not something I talk about so don’t go mentioning it to anyone, okay? Toads are kind of not welcome, most places.

The captain and our medic know. So when I get back to my bunk I have a small tub of water I can fit inside and hydrate in. It’s stored under my bed, I just lift up my mattress, and it’s really a box the length of the bed. I had to install the system myself when the ship was docked for maintenance before I came on. Majority of the crew was off ship that day. I installed the pipes and faucets to run water to fill it. I also put in the tub and drain system. So when I get back to my bunk I lock my door, turn it on and get undressed.

The coolest thing about being half or quarter toad is, we are really colorful and attractive. I am taller than Average, lean with smooth supple skin. Rick petting me is pretty normal. My eyes are large, my face flat like eastern styled HoSS. Most of my features are gender neutral. I get propositioned all the time, males, females, hermaphrodites, and non-binary. I am male and like females so when I get that kind of attention, it’s like being tipped in a currency you can’t use, nice, but… There are a lot of predator species that like us colorful attractive ones. They like us a lot: When I interviewed for this job, our pilot Kris grabbed the captain’s shoulder. Claws ready to dig into him, “tell him he’s hired. He’s very pretty, please?” I laughed and told her, “captain still has to decide if I am useful.” He showed me around and put me to work for a few hours. I worked with everyone for a little bit. Had a similar reaction out of everyone, stares, and being pet like a domestic animal.

They told me I was there to replace some schmuck who lost his arm while doing maintenance on a lift engine that was still running. I asked “was he drunk, high, or stupid” the Captain stopped and looked “drunk and stupid. I don’t allow either on my boat” “I don’t drink, and I’m not stupid” I didn’t tell him that I am half toad so I can’t drink. Spirits of any kind will dehydrate amphibians. I didn’t tell him what I was until I was hired. The captain is a speciesist toe sucker too, but he is a little more quiet about it than his brother.