Chapter Text
Part One
The heavy doors to the airlock opened with a low clunking sound.
Jirel found himself being forcefully shoved through them, but part of him was relieved to get inside. Especially when the doors closed behind them and the sound of instant repressurisation fired up with a hiss of air. The Class-L conditions on the surface had taken its toll on his Trill physiology more than he had been expecting, despite the shot of stims Natasha had given him before they beamed down.
His usual misplaced bravado had led to him dismissing any concerns. He could tolerate it. Besides, they weren’t supposed to be down here for this long. But it had been painful.
As he took a deep lungful of the stale, but oxygen-rich air that was being pumped into the airlock, his mind began to refocus on his more general plight.
He and his crew had been in the middle of another adventure, racing across the quadrant to rescue a Trill from a mysterious mining operation. A Trill who was apparently married to Jirel’s former business partner, and lover. And in an instant, everything had unravelled.
Before he had even had a chance to act, their entire quest had been revealed to be a trick, designed to make him the property of Grenk.
Grenk was someone that the Bounty’s crew had crossed paths with countless times. The sort of individual who had a habit of finding himself in the middle of the more nefarious aspects of the galaxy. And one that Jirel and the Bounty had managed to outwit and escape every time they had been unfortunate enough to run into him.
Until now. When, nearly a year after the Bounty had last beaten the wily Ferengi and left him marooned on a planet during an unsuccessful attempt to recover the ancient Jewel of Soraxx, Grenk had found a way to have his revenge.
Down on the surface of the planet, the security processes they had previously managed to override had suddenly come back to life and Jirel and Natasha had been captured. Up in orbit, the Bounty had apparently been attacked.
Now, he and Natasha were being taken to Grenk’s fortified mining operation, far away from any other inhabited worlds. To be put to work until the considerable debt that the Ferengi believed he owed him had been paid off. And nobody was aware that they were even here.
And all of this was his fault. Specifically, it was his fault for trusting Maya Ortega. Once again.
He couldn’t bring himself to look over at her as they silently stood in the airlock, opting instead to look straight ahead at the dirty metal inner door. The only sound from any of them was Grenk’s slightly wheezy breathing from his own exertions in the Class-L conditions.
Eventually, the pressure equalised, and the inner door opened. Jirel was now shoved through into the habitation area alongside Natasha by the two Miradorn, Shel-Lan and Gel-Lan, who had long served as Grenk’s most trusted bodyguards. And since their boss had taken ownership of Synergy Mining Enterprises, they were also serving as head wardens for each new mining facility.
They were confronted by a long corridor and a distinctly musty, unwashed smell. Maya found herself having to repress a flashback to the decay of Nyara City that the scent dredged up inside her.
As Jirel and Natasha were roughly led down the corridor, the freshly-oxygenated Grenk burst out in a fresh mocking cackle, as he allowed himself to gloat further over his victory.
“I do hope you like the place,” the Ferengi mocked, gesturing at the walls of the corridor, “You’re going to be here for a while, after all.”
Jirel didn’t respond. Natasha looked over at the silent Trill, and felt deeply worried by what she saw. One way or another, she had become very familiar with Jirel over the last year. And she had never seen him like this.
The wannabe space adventurer could be brash and cocky, or irritatingly casual and blasé, or insanely jealous, or surprisingly sympathetic, or any combination of the above, as he and his crew flew from one misadventure to the next. But through all of that, he remained a man of positivity. For all of the dangerous situations that the Bounty and her crew had gotten into since Natasha had joined them, he had never looked like he was giving up, or accepting that there was no way out.
Until now, it seemed. Because now, she couldn’t see a trace of the happy-go-lucky adventurer anywhere. All she saw was a broken man. Which meant that, this time, Jirel didn’t see the way out.
As they were marched around a corner, the corridor opened up into a cavernous room in front of them. And Natasha began to feel that she didn’t see a way out either.
The room was dominated by a fenced-off area in the middle of the vast open space. Thick metal bars that extended all the way up to the roof of the habitation dome separated them from whatever, or whoever was inside. Natasha silently theorised that this represented the accommodation for the mine’s workers. And it looked far more like a prison than a barracks.
A shiver passed down her spine as she recalled what Maya had said about the operations that were run by this particular company on their journey here. How it used its workers like slaves. And looking at the heavy bars as they approached, it definitely felt more like incarceration than employment.
They were marched right up to a set of imposing doors by Grenk’s bodyguards. One of the Miradorn, either Shel-Lan or Gel-Lan, tapped the controls, and seconds later the doors parted with a low hiss. Neither Natasha nor Jirel moved until they were shoved inside by the two armed Miradorn.
Natasha looked around the dank interior of their new accommodation. It was hard to make out details, with the lighting throughout the expanse of this area being kept low.
The interior of the caged area was a filthy expanse of metal flooring, covered in layers of dust and dirt from the boots of returning duridium miners. In the middle of the roughly circular space was a collection of small prefab rectangular cabins, which she surmised contained whatever passed for sleeping and recreation areas for the workers.
She could already see various grizzled forms peering out from the cabins, or standing elsewhere inside the caged-off area, checking out their new arrivals.
Through the meagre lighting, Natasha made out some of the faces of the other enslaved miners that must have fallen foul of Grenk at one point or another. And none of them filled her with any sense of confidence about their long-term survival. There were several threatening Nausicaans, a couple of Breen in heavy refrigeration suits, at least one seven foot-tall Reman, a number of armour-plated individuals she couldn’t recognise, and even what looked like a Gorn, with its compound eyes glinting in the half-light.
Only one thing seemed consistent across the sea of differing faces inside the cage. None of them looked impressed by the two newcomers.
She forced herself to turn back, where Jirel was already staring back at Grenk, Maya and the two Miradorn. All four remained resolutely on the other side of the door.
“I’m sure your fellow employees will be over to introduce themselves very soon,” the Ferengi cackled again, “But try not to get too many of those spots knocked off, Jirel. After all, your first shift starts soon, and Synergy Mining Enterprises expects its employees to work hard.”
Jirel’s fists clenched at his sides as he stared back at Grenk, but for the time being he remained silent, leaving the response to Natasha.
“This is how you treat your workers?” she said, gesturing around the confines of the cage, “This is slavery!”
“This is repayment,” the Ferengi countered, “As I’ve told you, everyone here owes me a significant personal debt. And if you want to know how significant, I suggest you ask your friendly captain here to tell you how much latinum he’s screwed me out of down the years.”
He paused to shoot Jirel an especially pointed glare before he continued.
“But this is still a business arrangement, designed to ensure that everyone works hard enough until I’m satisfied that we’re back on equal terms. If you stick to your shift rotation and make your quotas, there’ll be no further punishment, and your free time will be your own.”
Natasha scoffed, wondering if the Ferengi actually believed any of what he was saying himself.
“Still,” Grenk added with a darker tone, “I should remind you that there is nowhere for you to run, even if you wanted to. You’re all alone, with no hope of rescue, on a heavily-guarded planet in the middle of the galactic hinterlands. So try to behave. I’d hate for something to happen to you, Jirel…”
His mouth curved into a satisfied leer, displaying rows of sharp, spiky teeth, as he spelled out the depths of their incarceration.
As Grenk reached the end of his speech, Jirel finally spoke. But the tone of his voice was unlike anything that Natasha had heard before. The Trill’s voice came out of his mouth laced with venom, directed squarely at the gloating Ferengi.
“Listen to me, Grenk,” he hissed with naked anger, “You can stand there and gloat all you want, but you need to know this: I’m gonna get out of here, somehow. And when I do, I’m gonna find you. Wherever you are. And if what you’re saying is true, and you’ve really hurt the others, or worse, then I’m gonna kill you. Both of you.”
A fresh chill passed down Natasha’s spine as the furious Jirel shot a glare from Grenk over to Maya, who met his gaze with a look of resigned understanding. She knew, as much as Natasha knew, that Jirel was being entirely serious. Which was a very rare occurrence indeed.
Despite the ferocity of his words, Grenk still looked comfortable. The two disruptors being trained on Jirel by the Miradorn bodyguards on either side of him seemed to be helping with that. Still, Natasha noted something in their captor’s eyes after the Trill’s outburst. A flicker behind the confidence that suggested he was as perturbed by Jirel’s uncharacteristic attack as the other witnesses to it were.
“Please, Jirel,” the Ferengi replied, “Don’t be like that. After all, I do intend to release you…one day.”
With a final cackle, Grenk nodded at Shel-Lan (or possibly Gel-Lan), and the Miradorn tapped the controls again. As the heavy metal doors slowly closed, trapping them inside their new accommodation, Jirel kept his focus on Grenk and Maya. Staring them down with a look of rage.
As the doors locked in place, a fresh shiver passed down Natasha’s spine.
Behind them, the welcoming committee was already massing.