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⬅️ Previous capture (2021-12-17)
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Carei opened her eyes. Her entire body ached, and her head was pounding.
No answer. Carei's eyes slowly focused on the room about her. It was filled with an artificial light, but the materials of the walls were all wrong. She also was not lying in her bunk, but in a soft bed. It would have been comfortable, if she didn't hurt so much.
"Where am I?" she asked out loud. No answer. If she had been aboard her ship, Der Vesh, the AI would have replied. But... nothing.
Carei slowly, painfully, pushed herself up into a sitting position. It wasn't easy. This was a soft bed, and her body had sunk into it. The pillows were also very soft.
"Dim the lights," Carei commanded the room. Again, no reaction. This place was either low-tech, or the AI would not respond to her. Was she a prisoner? No, if she was, her captors would have her sleeping on a cot, or on the floor, not in a soft bed.
Now in a sitting position, she took in her surroundings more fully. It was a large room, at least compared to what she was used to on a starship. It was a full fifteen by ten feet. The bed was against a wall of gray... stone? Not a metal, but stone. The port-hole like window was of modern material though. Outside of it the stars filled the sky. The stars were unknown to her though. Where had the ship traveled to?
Looking down through the window, she saw a barren, rocky surface. Carei was no longer aboard a ship, but on a planet, or moon, or asteroid. She saw a small rocky shape in the sky, either a moon, or a planet. She didn't pretend to know which was which.
The rest of the room contained a desk with a very old-fashioned terminal on it, with communication wires running into the wall. There was a wooden dresser, and a trunk at the end of the bed. Above the dresser appeared to be a ... mirror, and not an electronic one. There were two doors, one by the dresser, and the other on a wall opposite the window. All the walls were made of the strange stone. Carei found herself worrying that the stone would not hold in the atmosphere, though she couldn't be certain that the rocky landscape outside didn't have breathable air.
Beside the bed was a small, old-fashioned wooden table. On it was a thermos whose lid doubled as a cup. By the thermos was a data-pad. An indicator light was blinking in the top-left corner.
"So," she said aloud, finding her voice strange echoing off the stone walls, "at least I have something from civilization."
She reached over to grab the data-pad, letting the blanket fall away from her body. She paused in her action. She wasn't dressed, at all, except for wrappings on her right arm, and around her lower torso. The flesh that showed, her chest, shoulders, and left arm, were mottled with bruises and whelps. She looked as bad as she felt.
"It must have been one hell of a fight I was in," Carei said to herself.
She pulled the sheets off, and verified that her legs and thighs were also horribly bruised. But she was in one piece. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, leaned over, and picked up the data-pad.
As she lifted it, the light blinked rapidly. A beam of light scanned her face, and the data-pad unlocked.
The screen came to life, and Captain Densen's mottled face came onto the screen.
"Hi Carei. If you are seeing this, it means you woke up," he said in his raspy voice. "You were pretty beat up. We all were. Our latest salvage was a trap. Damned union ship showed up when your salvage crew was aboard. The wrecked ship was rigged to blow when the union frigate engaged us. We lost the salvage crew, all but you. You were near death as we picked you up.
"We fought off the damned frigate, but took plenty of damage. Two thirds of the crew gone, including our medical staff. I dropped you off at a place known as The Tavern. It welcomes all types, even our kind. I wouldn't take you anywhere where the law would pick you up.
"I couldn't wait until you healed. But I gave the Tavern plenty of money to take care of you. And threatened them mightily to dissuade them from taking your possessions. It's all there, under the bed, sealed with a retina scan.
"I will pick you up when I can, if you are still there. We're off to repair the Der Vesh, or to acquire a replacement. Good luck."
The video cut off, and she was shown her personal interface to the pad. She looked at the date, shown in the Terran calendar.
-2582.08.25
Carei explorered her room.
The one door led to a bathroom, including a shower. Set beside the sink was a bottle of all-body wash and a pair of towels. Having a private shower was not something she was accustomed to, as the ship's crew all used a common shower room. Already undressed, Carei decided to take a few minutes to clean up. Slowly, tenderly, she removed the bandages that protected the worst of her wounds. Carei winced when she saw the damage to her torso and arm, black and purple welts, her arm looking like it might have been broken.
Carei took a deep sigh, bemoaning the bad turn her life had taken. Turning to the shower, she stepped through the glass door and pulled it shut. The water was hot, and it felt good as it ran over her sore flesh. As she moved her arms to clean herself, her muscles ached, and she couldn't reach as far without the muscles in her arms screaming in pain. She moved slowly, carefully, but with what her captain had said on her pad, she was grateful to be alive.
After the shower Carei dried off and walked to the dresser. She looked in the mirror. Her body was a mess, but her face didn't show much damage. There was a small scar on by her right ear. She smiled to herself. She was a pretty woman, and the scar was small enough she thought it gave her a little mystique. It could have been a lot worse.
She went through the dresser, and found an assortment of unusual clothes. There were older outfits, hand-woven skirts, flowery blouses, demin pants. All of it looked like clothes from centuries ago. There was not any of the standard fare commonly found on a starship or space station.
The clothes appeared to be tailored to her size. Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to give her quite a variety.
Carei wanted something sturdy, something to hide her wounds. She put on a pair of jeans and a dark, long-sleeved shirt. The shirt buttoned up in the front, with frills on the ends of the sleaves. She put on a pair of thick socks she found in another drawer. Looking around the dresser, she saw that a pair of brown boots, and a pair of fancy black high-heeled shoes, were tucked underneathe it. She grabbed the boots and pulled them on.
She looked around the room, taking in her accomodations again. Then she remembered the box with her things in it. She knelt down to peer under the bed, Again, her muscles complained as she stretched to grab the box. She pulled it out, while wincing in pain. It was a metal lock-box which hummed quietly, electronically sealed. It had a small camera on the top, and a button on the side. Carei pressed the button, and the camera came to life, scanning her face. She heard a click, indicating that the box was unlocked.
Inside Carei found some of her personal effects. There was her galactic identification card, that electronically unlocked to provide her identity to the authorities. *Actually*, where were several identities written into the card, of which she could unlock with slight differences in interacting with it. This often helped her to avoide detection in the Verge.
There were also a set of physical Galactic Credits, which on some lower-tech worlds were used to trade. There was also her electronic wallet, which contained cryptographic funds in a number of different worlds' currencies.
Carei's two personal weapons were also in the box, a small needler gun, which she could easily hide in her waistband, and a 'Delek', a wicked knife with a jagged 6-inch blade.
The woman was not a fighter. She was a scientist. But out here beyond civilization, people didn't always recognize that there was a code to follow. It helped to be prepared.
The last item in the box was her necklace, a long silver chain with a pendent the shape of the Three Stars. Carei stared at it, thankful that Densen had included it in the box. A pain clutched her heart as she thought of the one that had given it to her...
She forced the memory back. Going to the mirror, put the necklace on. She tucked it under her shirt, and felt it drop to hang between the top of her breasts. A symbol of The Divinity to many in the galaxy, and memory to her, keeping it with her made her feel odd, off-balance, but also of comfort. It was a contradiciton, though just one of many that defined her.
Carei opened the old swinging door, leaving behind the hallway that led to her room. She entered a dining area filled with tables, a large fireplace, a small stage, and a bar. Several doors similar to the one she had entered through provided different exits.
The room was large, with seating for over 100 people. The decor was a mishmash of old and new. The tables and hearth looked to be plucked out of time, from hundreds of years ago. Small torches in the walls lit the room. The bar had taps for dispensing whatever drinks were on offer, along with small coolers holding bottles of ale. Behind the bar a kitchen was visible, with modern machinery for cooking.
On the wall over the bar was a digital clock that displayed a series of numbers separated by dots. The time and date didn't make any sense to Carei, keeping track of some calendar she was unfamiliar with.
A half dozen tables were filled with customers, a rough-looking crowd. Two tables had people wearing modern space-faring uniforms. Some were human, some were alien. At another table sat men and women dressed in medieval armor, swords and daggers hanging at their waists. At other tables were men and women dressed in outfits from the late eighteen/early nineteenth centuries of earth. The dining room smelled of smoke and drink and food. It felt homey and dangerous at the same time.
A pretty, blonde-haired waitress went from table to table, taking orders and delivering food. The food varied by who was served, from steak and eggs, to Qlag, a Kivalen dish a little like Terran pasta that barely qualified as food.
Serving drinks behind the bar was a female Flansh, an alien race with strange inter-dimensional origins. In many ways similar to humans, this Flansh had long, dark purple hair, and a lighter purple tint to her skin. She was wearing a brown vest and skirt, and a long tail protruded from a hole cut for it. She was skinny and cute and moved about energetically.
Some of the customers turned to look as Carei entered the room. Most immediately turned back to their food, though she noticed a continued look from some of the more medieval adventuring types, large rough-looking men. Whatever tech-level from their home-worlds, Carei was used to dealing with all kinds.
The waitress walked over to Carei, hips swaying as she moved.
"Hi, I'm Colleen," she said, her voice light and sweet. "You probably have a million questions."
"Yeah, I do," Carei answered, looking around the strange room.
"K... well, our bartender will help you out. This way."
Colleen walked towards the bar, Carei following. Carei watched many sets of eyes follow them as the moved.
When they arrived at the bar, the Flansh turned to greet them, a beaming smile on her face.
"Oh, hi Carei! My name is Benari. How are you feeling?"
Carei felt at a distinct disadvantage that everyone knew who she was, but she knew nothing of them.
"I'm... fine. Well, not really. I hurt like crazy. Who took care of me here?"
Benari had a stricken look on her face, full of sympathy.
"I'm sorry Carei! We have been doing our best. I will get you something to drink to make you feel much better!"
She turned around and started mixing some strange concoction, her tail swishing back and forth.
Carei looked at Colleen questioningly. "She... didn't answer my question."
Colleen smiled.
"You'll get used to being here. I have to get back to the customers." She turned and walked away.
A moment later Benari was back. She held out to Carei a large mug with a steaming liquid inside. It smelled good, a fruity, apple-like smell. But it had a dark foreboding color. Carei hesitated. Benari leanded back, pouting.
"I... where am I? And what is that?" Carei asked, pointing at the mug.
Benari perked up, bouncing lightly on her feet and spilling some of the drink.
"Try it! This is Flansh Felishol. It makes you feel better!"
"It's... good," Carei observed, and she took another sip. The stress drained out of her, but she still kept a wary eye on the the other patrons. She sat down on one of the stools at the bar, and looked again at Benari, who was busily wiping down the bar. As Benari bent over concentrating on her work, Carei noticed a small set of horns poking through the Flansh's hair at the temples.
"This is a bit unreal," Carei said aloud. She put the mug on the counter, having consumed barely a third of it. Her mind felt strangely clear, but that just made the strangeness of the place all the more present to her.
Benari looked up, a knowing look on her face.
"The doctor who took care of you is a friend of mine. You were about to die. He healed you. You can't meet him, he's gone. Yvinda fed you and bathed you. She's... a wood elf..." Benari said, a bit of a sneer in her voice. "Thinks she knows everything. And you are at the Tavern."
"Thanks," Carei said, still confused. She had no idea what a *wood elf* was, and was getting more new questions than answers. "I got that. But where are we? Is it in the Verge?"
Benari shook her head, her bangs dancing.
"Is it... in union space?"
Benari shook her head again.
"Are you going to *tell* me where it is?" The stress was returning to her, despite the drink.
Benari bit her lower lip, and then showed another of her huge smiles.
"It is not anywhere," she said. "If you look for it, you won't find it. You need to let the Tavern find you!"
"You aren't making any sense," Carei growled.
"Thank you!" Benari replied, obviously taking the comment as a compliment, confusing Carei more. "You have to be hungry. You're Terran. I will make you steak and eggs! You'll like it!" She turned and shouted orders to an unseen cook in the kitchen. Carei frowned, and took a long drink of the Felishol. Colleen said the bartender would answer her questions. But that wasn't happening.