Chapter 9
Ender eyed the bridge. As it was a large circular room that was all windows, it gave the occupants an unobstructed view of space, or in this case, their launching area on Earth. Though, from the outside of Red Herring, it looked completely black.
In the center of the bridge, there was a sizable round meeting table surrounded by chairs, and curved around it were the control panels for the entire ship, along with more chairs.
Unlike so many things nowadays, ship engineers had been smart enough to eventually switch back to tactile controls.
Even if some things were hologram and/or screen based, there were plenty of buttons, nobs, and switches for people other than him to play with.
With a cheeky-ass smile on his face, Kore pressed a small disc on the collar of his shirt.
His voice projected out over the ship's audio system as he spoke.
“This is Interstellar Commander Kore speaking.
I'm the lovable Elemental who will be navigating this fucking bucket of bolts, lovingly called Red Herring, and I estimate you have about two minutes to make sure that you and all your shit is secure, before whatever happens, happens. Good luck!”
He rolled his eyes. “First of all, show some damn respect to its name. Second, it’s an expensive bucket of bolts, asshole, and third, it’s our main, and most advanced, up-to-date ship, in case you forgot.”
It wouldn’t be for too much longer though, even if they would still use it. It was the largest ship currently in use by Cryptid Means, and one of nine ships that they had access to, but a major upgrade was coming.
Fifty-one brand new ships were currently being built in various locations on Earth, and a few on planets that were not under government domain.
The orders were placed under untraceable names, with funds that would raise zero red flags.
And they would be fitted with all the bells and whistles one could ask for.
One of those ships was about half a size larger than this one, and would soon enough become the toy Kore would get to float around in.
On their completion, while they did plan to seriously upgrade the older models, it would instantly more than quadruple their fleet size, which was the important part.
Ender had made it his personal fucking mission over the last year and a half to speed up their expansion into space, along with furthering their own space exploration.
He frankly hadn’t been able to let go of the bitter feeling he’d experienced on having to clearly state to Seri just how little they had done so, in that moment of time.
“I wouldn’t dare disrespect the name of your first chicken.
And expensive, yes, but soon to be replaced, which is a good thing, because only the elements know how much longer the duct tape, rubber bands, and gum will hold this thing together,” Kore said, almost giddily.
There was an annoying ass smirk on the Elemental’s face as the man moved to the navigation control section of the panel, and took his seat, strapping in.
“Keep it up and I won’t give you your new toy,” he grumbled, mainly to himself, as he buckled his own harness.
Closing his eyes, Ender fully intended to ignore the impending launch upwards, because he had never actually been a fan of the feeling of leaving the atmosphere.
Just when the ship began to lift upward, Soren, who had been quiet beside him until now, asked, “What if we are caught in space when the date hits? Or if you lose it sooner than normal, hmm?”
His eyes snapped open wide, and he looked sharply at the Harpy as he barked out, “Fuck!” on realizing the drugs were still in his damn bathroom cabinet.
“Did you not even consider—holy shit, you forgot your drugs!” Soren squawked, picking up the context clues of his wide-eyed horror-filled expression mid-sentence.
“REVERSE,” Ender demanded!
“We don’t have time!” the Harpy snapped. “The compound is three hours south of here. If we go back now, we will miss our targeted time.”
Ender was about to scream for them to ‘just fucking do it’, but the words caught in his throat as the pain hit him. The damn threads of fate were clearly threatening him.
“FUCK!” He kicked the base of the table in front of him, and the metal screeched in protest at the assault.
Sagging in his chair, he flipped off the other members of the crew who were side-eying him. “Fine,” Ender groaned. “But if I eat someone, that’s on you all!”
“Or, here me out, we could reverse the ship, let you get off, and leave without you? You can go back home, where you can safely medicate alone?” Soren deadpanned.
“Ain’t a chance in hell that is happening, Toddles.” He smiled as his brother started to glare.
“Ender, why are you really coming?”
Ender’s smile didn’t falter. “No reason.”
“Yeah, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I believe that.”
He hummed, unbuckling as they passed the Earth’s atmosphere and the stabilizers kicked in. “Can’t say I have any interest in trying to convince you one way or another, and as your superior, I don’t feel I have to.”
The Harpy let out an angry chirp, his eyes full of the fire he no doubt wanted to unleash on Ender’s ass. “You are such a fucking pain in the rear!”
Benny Jones, a younger member of the engineering crew, laughed as he slipped past. “Uh, oh, mommy and daddy are fighting again!”
While Soren snorted at the comment, Ender turned a chilling smile Benny’s way. “Oh, look at that, I've already picked my first meal for when I lose it. How nice to have future dinner plans.”
His smile only widened when the green-haired little shit paled, and quickly scurried away.
Though he was lying down, Killian’s head spun as his eyes fluttered open weakly, the sound of crying and whimpering reaching his ears with the return of consciousness.
He felt heavy, dry, and disconnected, while his neck, wrists, and ankles were oddly weighted down by something. On feeling a touch to his arm, he slowly looked over, as his mind sluggishly tried to recall what the hell had happened.
When Killian found himself staring into familiar large golden eyes, everything came rushing back. The weight around his neck, wrists, and ankles, seemed to intensify as he finally recognized exactly what they were—Cryptid binding cuffs.
Swallowing hard, Killian gathered Skya into his arms while he sat up and leaned against the wall at his back, his gaze flicking around. The whole room was a dingy, and likely dirty, chrome color. They were in some sort of large capacity cargo hold, one that had been modified and turned into a cage.
The thick, and no doubt tungsten bars were spaced evenly, but close enough that only an arm would fit between them, blocking the way to what appeared to be the only way out. A door had been built into those bars, and it had a small slot at the bottom, which he could only assume was for food.
Sadly, they weren’t alone in their prison. The cell was filled with people, both human and Cryptid alike, children and adults. There had to be at least a hundred, even without including all of the children.
Fucking traffickers…he would never understand why they weren’t a priority to the Grimm family.
Killian winced, barely holding back from swearing when he managed to find a port window that was not blocked by somebody, and found himself looking out into space.
“K-Kill-Kill,” Skya hiccupped.
He glanced down at her. Tears were trailing down her face, and the poor toddler was trembling in his arms.
Smiling weakly at the little girl, he ran a hand over her cyan curls. “Shh, I got you. I’m okay.”
She whimpered and clung tighter.
Sweeping his gaze over her, he noted that while there were some smudges of dirt on her face and her shark onesie, she seemed unharmed.
He could only assume they had changed her, as while there was certainly a rank smell in the room, it wasn’t coming from her.
Though the thought of them touching Skya in any way twisted his stomach.
Killian did feel a sense of relief on realizing that while he had been bound up tight, they hadn’t put anything on Skya. They likely thought she was too young…or they possibly just hadn’t realized who or fully what she was…
The same couldn’t be said for him. The traffickers knew exactly who, and what, Killian was, because it was the only way they would have known that more than a collar would be necessary.
He didn’t even have to guess why he was there.
The email he received two days ago had been simple and clear: Times Up.
That bastard fucking sperm donor of his.
Fuck! He should have told Cyrus… He should have told the man the minute he’d gotten the first email, but NO, he had kept it to himself for months, because he had stubbornly decided he hadn’t needed any help.
Actually, it wasn’t even that. He had just wanted the person he loved to not be thoroughly introduced to the reality of his whole insane, psychotic family.
Killian hadn’t wanted Cyrus to find out just how bad they really were, and how much he had…
held back. Because who knew if the Fate would still want him if he knew the full extent of his damage… ha…
He swallowed hard. It was times like this that it would be nice if he could still cry.
Killian’s gaze flicked to the large door on the other side of the room as it slid open.
His mouth twisted in disgust when he recognized the man at the front of the mostly muscle-bound party that approached the cage they were stuck in.