015: JAYNA - EQUATORIAL DISTRICT/CRIMSON SUNRISE - DAY 3

  Jayna hurried down the passageway. She tried to keep calm, tried to keep a level head, but found it almost impossible. The panic wanted to keep rising in her chest and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. Her lungs and throat felt tight, like they didn't want to work properly.
  Tiders had reached the capital. Her home. The shining beacon of their society had been breached. It made her terrified. Sick, in fact. The previous night's conversation now hung around her like a noose. It felt like a prophecy, her worst fears realised. In the end, it wasn't revolts or separatists or seceding provinces, it was tiders. Exactly as she'd feared. A united, coordinated strike when for decades no one had thought it possible.
  When the crisis had started there'd been chaos, anger, a clash of egos, a debate over jurisdiction. She'd never seen her father so angry and at the same time so powerless. An attack meant military action with approval from the Cabinet. However there was no time for debate or democratic approval, particularly when some of the Cabinet were at such high risk themselves. Jayna could see the point of both sides, but the arguing had seemed fruitless. Every word exchanged was time wasted.  
    It had taken mere minutes from the initial security alert to the evacuation to the direct breach of the Hall. How many exactly Jayna couldn't be sure. Two? Seven? Fifteen? Her sense of time had all but vanished. She had no idea what was now happening in the space behind them, or the scale of attack outside. She knew that there were three ships, she knew that the remaining turrets had failed, and she knew that the military was in disarray. It was a clear enough picture, and yet still, despite her overwhelming terror, she wanted more details.
  But here she was instead, scurrying to the panic rooms. There were eleven of them in total. After the breach, when many of the Admiralty and command staff had turned back to fend off the incursion, their group had shrunk rapidly. 
  Far in front of her, her father was led by Colonel Renshaw, whose bulk was a powerful and imposing force to have at the head of the procession. Behind them, Byron Chandra, the Vice Regent of Parliamentary Intelligence hurried alongside District Admiral Knox. Then Jayna herself, accompanied by Commander O'Reilly, the brave hopper who'd led the charge at First Province. She'd made her way to assist in the evacuation, and given her experience and astute insight into recent events, Jayna had ensured that they had her close by. Behind Jayna, Regent Keroni still frantically tapped away on his datapad and somewhere behind him scuttled Regent Ito, head of Public Relations, and his Vice Regent Klaus Koren. Bringing up the rear was a Colonel and Vice Admiral whose names Jayna didn't know.
 It was telling of the situation that so many high ranking officers had ended up down here with them, swept up in the chaos when they should be out there somewhere, issuing orders, making plans and ensuring the safety of the city.
   They'd since left the sounds of gunfire and grenades behind them, there'd been no more explosions after the invaders had managed to breach one of the supposedly bomb-proof windows. The sounds of their frantic footsteps echoing around the tunnel made Jayna feel incredibly claustrophobic.
  "Commander Dunn has responded to the high-P pulse, Minister. Your wife's procession will have hopper escorts alongside the existing contingent within minutes." The voice came from the Colonel behind.
  "Thank you," Jayna's father said. He frantically tapped on his own datapad. "I can't reach Edric, or the Academy. Has there been any word?"
  Colonel Renshaw quickly turned and plucked the Minister's datapad from his hands.
   "Sire, you won't get through the communication block and blackout. With respect, stop trying. It's for your own protection."
  "Well it hardly matters now, does it!" Minister Suri roared. "They already know my location. My daughters too!"
  "Edric's in one of the safest places he can be, and so are you," Renshaw replied.
  "I hope the irony of that statement has not escaped you, Colonel," her father replied with fury.
   "How did this even happen?" the voice of the unknown Vice Admiral behind piped up. "Three tider skyships! That seems like a fundamental failure within our intelligence department if you ask me." The last part was aimed at Keroni.
  "Staargsson, please," Admiral Knox barked.
  "Vice Admiral," Minister Suri responded sharply. "Regent Keroni oversees a large infrastructure with many moving parts and it is his and my concern where failures lie. If any."   
  "What about our gulls, you idiot!" Staargsson shrieked at Keroni again. "It's your job! It's only shuffling papers and messages, how hard can it be? Fucking bureaucrats!"
   The group had stopped moving, giving Knox the chance to step up to his colleague firmly. Jayna had no idea how far away the first security door was as the tunnels were featureless and dim. She guessed that it couldn't be more than thirty five to forty metres away. Close enough that they could hold the military bravado for another few minutes surely? 
  "You're out of line, Vice Admiral." Knox was cold.
  "I told you years ago that any intelligence ops should be fully overseen by hopper command and you wouldn't listen!"
  Knox looked ready to explode. Luckily, Minister Suri stepped in, calm, measured and pointed.
  "When this is over, and we are recovering accordingly, District Admiral Knox will expect your resignation in his inbox. Do you understand, Vice Admiral?"
  Vice Admiral Staargsson looked furious, but wounded.
  "Perfectly, Sire."
  The cloud of silence fell like a heavy blanket.
  "Sirs, please, this will only serve to further the enemy's ends." Commander O'Reilly was leaning against the tunnel wall, her face dimly lit by the strip lighting above. She held onto a pipe, holding herself up. She did not look well.
  "Agreed. Let's move." Knox spun on his heel and pushed his way to the front of the group. Then stopped, tilting his head to one side and un-holstering his pistol.
  "What's that?" Vice Regent Koren asked.
  Footsteps. More than one pair, echoing down the passage. The sound of voices rising and falling.
  "Go, go!" Renshaw boomed.
  They ran.
  The first gas canister struck the wall at the curve of the tunnel. Although Jayna didn't know at first what the thud was, she recognised the hissing that followed immediately after. She whirled around, resisting her fathers hand on the small of her back to see the small metal tube rolling down the gradual incline leaving a thick cloud in its wake. There was another metallic clang nearby as a second canister struck further back down the tunnel. 
  It took seconds for the fog to obscure everything before there was a moment of silence, a heartbeat of anticipation that seemed to stretch for an eternity. And then the passageway broke out in chaos.
  She heard a gunshot to her left, but had no idea who'd fired. In the closed-in space of the tunnel it sounded like a bomb and it left her ears ringing. It was followed by another, then more.
  Without warning she was thrown to the ground and someone was on top of her.
  "Stay down, Jayna. Stay low." It was her father. She barely heard his whisper through the whining in her eardrums. Commander O'Reilly was huddled nearby, Regent Chandra too. Jayna couldn't see much else. The smoke was still growing thicker and she forced out a cough. The occasional flash of gunfire in the murk was like lightning in storm clouds.
  "Move, Minister, keep low. " Commander O'Reilly pushed them along. "I'm right behind you." She let out a dry cough and propped herself up on her hands. She was struggling, and Jayna wondered briefly what had happened to her.
  The entire scene was a frantic tapestry of confusion. Voices shouted back and forth whilst gunshots fired in an uneven rhythm. Jayna didn't know who was talking, who was screaming at whom, or who was shooting. There was blood on the floor. She saw feet wearing hopper uniform boots stumbling past her but didn't look up to see who it was.
  A blade sailed over her head and clattered on the floor. She reached for it, but it was plucked away from her.
  "Admiral! The pipes!" It was O'Reilly, now standing above her. Jayna was crawling now. She could see the security door. It was so close.
  PANG! PANG!
  The noise ricocheted through her head like a bell.
  PANG! PONG!
  Suddenly the sound of rushing water. It gushed around her hands and knees, soaking through her trousers. She could feel droplets spattering her face, mixing with her tears. She'd been crying. She only realised at that moment. 
  Her hand reached the door. She started to stand, but was pushed to the ground again.
  "I said stay down!" her father barked. She heard him clearly and it was only then she became aware that the sounds of gunfire had ceased.
   Is it over? She was confused, only seconds seemed to have passed.
Jayna looked up. Her father and Regent Chandra stood at the door, Commander O'Reilly stood nearby, pressing her body against the wall and scanning the swirling smoke with a pistol in hand. Regent Keroni lay at the Commander's feet, a swirl of crimson leaking from somewhere in his body that was instantly diluted by the rushing water.
  The incline of the tunnel meant that the water was now several inches deep, it covered Commander O'Reilly's feet. Jayna looked down and saw that her hands had vanished under the liquid murk. There was more blood in the water. She lifted herself up into a crouch. She was barely aware of her own presence, almost watching everything from afar. Not that there was much to see, the smoke and surface water lay like fog over a lake on a cold morning. 
  "Chandra! Chandra!" her father was yelling! "The codes damn it!" A small buzz-like beep occasionally emitted from the security lock.
  Commander O'Reilly, now wielding a blade in addition to the pistol, vanished in a blur. Jayna watched from her out of body vantage point as O'Reilly fired off a shot seconds before propelling herself forward at an inhuman speed on the surface of the water. There was another gunshot before she appeared again, seeming to spasm briefly before stumbling to her knees, two or three flashes of sparks accompanied her twitching. O'Reilly managed one more final slash with her sword before her upper arm appeared to explode in a shower of blood, although Jayna didn't remember hearing a shot. O'Reilly spun around, gripping her arm with a pained grunt before finally collapsing in a heavy splash, her feet giving one final twitch.
  "Chandra, hold your damn hand still!" Minister Suri was practically screaming now.
  BANG! That shot Jayna did hear.
  She felt the spray of blood and bone spatter on her face before something dropped nearby with a dull splash. There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch forever before the screaming started. She didn't know if it was her. It might have been. It probably was.
  Then she was being held, her fathers smell engulfing her. She buried her head in his chest.
  "Daddy," she finally whispered.
  "I'm here. I'm here. Jayna, I need you to stand up. We need a dual entry for the door."
  "I don't think I can."
  "Yes you can. You are the Heiress of Equatorial District and you will stand true."
  Jayna nodded and allowed herself to be lifted. She had no strength left in her legs to perform the task herself.
  "Stop there." The voice was gruff and cold.
  "Now Jayna!" her father almost pushed her to the security terminal.
  PING!
  The bullet ricocheted off the door above them.
  "I said stop there."
  Jayna turned around, her father shielded her with his body.
  From within the now dissipating smoke, a man appeared. He was thin and clad in a mixture of filthy, heavy clothing. His features were obscured behind a mask that Jayna immediately recognized as a hopper breather and goggle combo -although it looked damaged, or modified, Jayna couldn't tell which. A bandoleer filled with small knives was slung across his torso, and a heavy pack with mechanical components was strapped to his back. Jayna would recall barely anything that happened in the evacuation passage that afternoon but for the rest of her days she would remember every detail of the tider who emerged through the smoke and destroyed her life.
  "Whatever you - "
  "Shut up." The tider cut Jayna's father off so abruptly and suddenly that the Minister snapped his mouth closed in surprise.
   "Come here, and bring that beautiful poppet with you," the voice was distorted through the breather, almost like a radio with bad reception.
  "I do not, will not, and have never obeyed the demands of savages."
  The knife was drawn, thrown and in Minister Suri's leg so quickly that Jayna never even saw it happen. Her father collapsed in front of her, a scream of pain escaping his throat. Just one however, he would not give the man in the mask the satisfaction of another.
  "Father!" she knelt down next to him and reached for the knife.
  "Don't," he said through gritted teeth. "It'll bleed more."
  "You may have noticed, I'm bloody good with a throwin' knife," the tider removed another. "Wanna test me some more?"
   Jayna held her father, trying to put as much of her body between him and the approaching man.
  "What do you want?" she asked.
  "He wants me," her father groaned.
  "Actually, no," the tider said. "You're old news, old man. We're only int'rested in the future, and the future is her." He gestured his knife at Jayna to emphasise his point.
  "You will not take my daughter! Take me. I have far more value. She is weak... headstrong, impulsive, she'll never be elected into the chair." Jayna knew his words were hollow, knew he was trying to dissuade the man. Yet still, she wondered if there was a hint of truth in them.
  "That's sweet you'd throw her under the boat like that, but she don't have to be elected. You die and quicker than a whore's skirt liftin,' she's the new Minister."
  "You can kill me, but you won't get my family."
  "I'm pretty sure your wife's already sleepin' with the fishes. If everythin' has gone to plan anyway. The, er, Cap'n we picked up was pretty specific we try an' take out as many players as possible."
  A lump rose in Jayna's chest. Not her mother. It wasn't true. He had no way of knowing that. He was toying with them.
  "Who do you serve?" her father asked formally, openly.
  "Your number one man send his regards," the tider replied, not fully answering the question. 
  "Goodman," Minister Suri almost spat the word. "Got himself some sky-tiders did he? What was he offering?"
  "Dunno. No one rightly knows what he's got goin' on upstairs. Nor the finer points of the details. To be honest someone says you wanna drop into the Capital and wipe out the pigs at the top, who's gonna say no? He ain't my captain anyhow, my captain sails the skies."
  "Are you an assassin?" her father asked.
  The tider laughed.
  "Fuck no. Don't be daft. Tell you the truth I can't believe I'm the one that made it through. You should see the mess behind me. I came down here with six other men."
  "Don't do anything he wants," Jayna hissed to her father.
  "Come here, sweetheart," the man said.
  Jayna spat at his feet.
  "I am the Heiress of this city and I do not take orders from parasites."
  The second knife hit her father in the shoulder, he was thrown sideways and Jayna nearly toppled with him. It was only then that she saw Chandra's body, minus the top of its head. The wave of vomit came so quickly and so intensely that Jayna covered her father with the contents of her stomach.
  The tider laughed uproariously like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.
  "Oh my, hardly a dignified end for Equatorial District's most beloved Minister."
  The tider was on Jayna before she could prepare herself, he grabbed her by the arm and ripped her away from her father. He tossed her aside like she was a doll and she splashed down into the bloody water.
  "Don't you hurt her!" Minister Suri's roar carried all the way down the tunnel.
  "I ain't gonna hurt her. She's the valuable one, remember? Why am I not being listened to?" The tider pulled off his goggles and breather and took a deep breath, the smoke had cleared enough that it was now just a fine haze in the air. "That's better."
   His hair was greasy and thin, and hung around his gaunt face like weeds on a ship. Jayna couldn't see the facial markings that identified his tribe but she doubted she'd have recognized them if she had.
  The man pulled out a battered old radio and spoke into it.
  "Lawrence here of the Angel's Hurricane. I've got her. Prep for recovery."
  A crackled voice responded. "Roger that, evac clean up deployin.' "
  The three of them waited in a kind of awkward silence that was so unfitting to the situation that it would have been funny under any other circumstances. Jayna shifted backwards slightly and her hand brushed against something, someone. She did not turn to see whose body it was. 
    From somewhere above, at the other end of the tunnel, an enormous boom shook the passageway walls. The lights flickered as dust fell, peppering the water. Another boom followed and this time the cloud of particulates was denser.
  "Ah, that'll be pest control clearing out the nest," Lawrence said. He turned to her, aiming his pistol. "You stay there, petal, your daddy and I need to have a quick chat."
  He strolled over to her father, knife and pistol in hand.
 "Get up Minister, you can at least die on your feet."
  The words were like a slap to the face, Jayna whirled around not caring for the bodies in front of her. She began searching desperately for a weapon. She wouldn't let this man kill her father while she sat helpless on her wet behind.
    "Don't bother." The click of the pistol arming stopped her. She turned around, Lawrence held it at her without turning around. Her father was now standing. Tall. Proud. Regal. Fighting the pain to stand as best he could, his eyes burning hatred into the man in front of him. 
  Lawrence grabbed him and spun around to face Jayna, pistol aimed at her, a blade against the throat of her father.
  Minster Suri never cried, not even at the end. He wouldn't give the filthy raider the satisfaction. His breaths were shallow, and scared. He kept his eyes on Jayna the entire time.
  Lawrence leaned in close.
 "I'm sorry I'm takin' my time. But this is probably the single biggest thing I'm ever gonna achieve in my miserable existence."
  Jayna was aware that her head was shaking, but it wasn't a conscious movement.
  "No....no..." she whispered.
  "I love you Jayna," he father said with as much bravery as he could. "Tell Edric and your mother the same. Lead our people forwards."
  "Bye bye," the tider said.
  The tears were blinding her and Jayna couldn't hold her eyes open. When Lawrence slit her fathers throat and the blood came gushing out she saw it all through a flickering watery blur.
  The scream that erupted from her was primal and frightening. Suddenly the man's hands were on her and something was jabbed into her neck. The world quickly started to fade out. Her last sight was of Commander O'Reilly slowly rousing from the water, pulling herself up on weak arms. Jayna wasn't sure if it was actually happening or if it was her quickly dwindling consciousness conjuring up the image. But it didn't matter. Within seconds, she was gone.

                                                                                          


  When she awoke she was falling! No, rising. The first thing she saw was the Royal Court below. She was in the air! She snapped awake and started screaming, she flailed her arms wildly but it did nothing. She was strapped into a harness. She could feel it now cutting into her shoulders and stomach. She was almost bent in half. She couldn't breathe! She tried to turn around, to re-shift herself but her body wouldn't respond. Partly due to the effects of whatever had been pumped into her, and partly as she had no experience navigating such a device. 
  Below, her city was in ruins. Smoke was everywhere: tendrils of white still rose from what remained of the barracks complex whilst wisps of filthy grey crept out of the Assembly Hall. It passed around her, blown by the wind that now whipped her hair around her face. Bodies lay scattered everywhere. Who belonged to which faction didn't matter, they were all anonymous broken shapes scattered in the streets and on the rooftops. 
  Around her, other bodies rose, these ones alive. Dozens of tiders hanging from harnesses or chutes, rising upwards alongside her. They cheered or shouted obscenities at her. She couldn't hear the words though as the great engines of the skyships above roared, obscuring almost everything but the wind that rocked her back and forth. Her body wanted desperately to sleep again but the terror kept her conscious. 
  She was being abducted. Ripped away from her home by the enemy. Tiders. Her greatest fear made real. She may have urinated then out of fear, but she wasn't sure. Her body functions, like the screams and tears that escaped her were almost a distant sensation through the haze of the drugs that were being quickly diluted by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. 
  It was so far down.
  She did urinate then. Of that she was sure. The terror washing over her like a bucket of ice water. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. How many meters up was she? How many miles?
 She rose slowly, the sound of the engines smothering her. She shut her eyes, trying to ignore how high she was. She couldn't. She couldn't do anything but scream, cry and beg in senseless wails. 
  The harness jolted to a halt, pushing under her ribs. The sounds escaping her were momentarily cut off. Then he was rising slower. The wind gradually faded and the voices around her grew louder as she was drawn up into a large gloomy space. Her eyes looked around frantically, but her terrified mind couldn't make sense of it. Racks and rails and mechanisms.  A mess of harnesses, chutes, gimbals, weapons and lights. And tiders. So many tiders. She was suddenly drawn to the left and the harness bit into her. The view of the city below vanished and was replaced by filthy metal. She fell a few metres to the deck, hitting it hard. Then hands were on her, the straps immediately loosening. She didn't hear what the voice said. All she was aware of now that she had a hard surface under her was how much her body was shaking. The tremors rippling through her was like nothing she'd ever experienced. She must have been fitting, surely? No one could shake this much. Her chest hurt. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid it would burst from her chest. She couldn't catch her breath, couldn't breathe. She gasped desperately but the air didn't want to go into her lungs. 
  The hands were still on her. She felt sick, she was going to vomit. She did. She heard laughter. She gasped, she couldn't breathe. She was choking. Everything overwhelmed her and the hangar started spinning, slowly turning black as the deck swam up to meet her.  
  Jayna vaguely felt the thud as her skull connected with the metal, but by then, she was already falling into unconsciousness. 

                                                                                                      


  When she came to again, the first thing she was aware of was the pain in her wrists and head. Before she opened her eyes she wiggled her hands and found that she couldn't. Her wrists were bound. She was laying on something cold and hard and her hands were bound behind her back. The panic rose up in a torrent and her senses seemed to return with a force that was almost overwhelming. She was cold and could feel an even colder wind. The taste in her mouth and along her upper lip meant she was bleeding from somewhere. Her crotch was sodden and the rest of her was clammy, the fear sweat and tears making her slick and her clothes stick to her. She could hear the chorus of voices and shouts. They were all around her, although she couldn't make out the words. Every growl and comment overlapped and drowned out the next. A symphony of terror. She wouldn't open her eyes though. That she would not do. She didn't want to look, didn't want to see where she was or what it would mean. Maybe if she kept her eyes closed long enough, it would all go away.
  Her breathing grew shallow again, quick, she tried to steady it but couldn't. Her entire body was shaking, through the cold or through the fear she didn't know. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again and she willed them away, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Except that she couldn't. The tears came. She felt them running downwards along one side of her face as she lay, silently praying for help. Praying for anyone. Praying for death. 
  She blinked the tears away, in the brief flashes of the scene around her she saw a crowd of men. Dozens of pairs of heavy boots surrounded her. She looked up at the faces. Filthy, scarred, tattooed faces. They smiled, they laughed, they drank, they made faces or hurled predatory abuse. Some of the men made obscene gestures or showed her their genitals. She closed her eyes again, trying desperately to shut them out. As if pretending that she wasn't in the midst of a tider crew would somehow make it so. 
  She thought of her childhood bedroom, the place she'd felt the most safe in all the world. But that only brought thoughts of her father and a fresh wave of tears erupted as the memory of what had just happened seemed to punch her. She folded in half on the deck, unleashing a wail. The sounds of the crowd were drowning her. She'd surely lose her mind. 
  And then it stopped, broken by a sharp and piercing whistle. Through the gloom of her closed eyelids she saw a change in light, and felt a sudden change in the breeze. 
  "Get her up!" a voice called from somewhere. 
  She was pulled by her wrists into a kneeling position, the binding tearing into the soft flesh of her forearms. The deck was uneven, and a rivet or bolt of some kind dug into her knee, she shifted away from it. 
  She braved another look and opened her eyes, her own lank hair hung in her vision in dark tangles, but she could see well enough. She was shaking still, her breathing never slowing down. She was dimly aware that she may be in shock, but had no way of knowing for sure. 
  A man appeared, parting the crowd as he approached her. He was slender, clad in a long dark coat that rippled in the wind. Jayna was suddenly aware of the vibration of the skyships engines underneath her, and she managed a brief look above at the seemingly infinite solar sails and rigging. Her worst fears were confirmed, she was on a tider skyship. Her thighs gave away but she was pulled upwards into position again. 
   The approaching man had Asian heritage and wore a charming smile. Behind him was a larger man, a powerhouse of a figure whose filthy ragged beard seemed the exact shade of his worn, colourless clothing. Jayna didn't think it was possible to be more afraid than she was, but upon the sight of the bigger man a fresh wave of sobbing escaped her. 
She knew who he was, and her heart almost stopped with dread right there and then. 
 The two men stood, and the crew around them had fallen into silence. The smaller man raised his arms and gestured around at the assembled crowd, raising his voice over the sounds of the wind and engines. 
  "Gentlemen! My assembled sunbeams! Temporary allies! Congratulations! Generations beyond us will tell stories of this momentous day! The victory that we attained here is unprecedented. To you all!" 
  A great cheer erupted from the crowd. Jayna flinched. 
  "An' this here, this here is the man we have to thank. The mastermind behind the greatest victory in tider history!"
  Another great wave of appreciation washed through the crew. 
  "She's all yours, Captain," the smaller man stepped aside and gestured the big man forwards with a mock bow.   
  The hulking shape stepped towards her slowly. Jayna looked down, focusing on the filthy deck in front of her and nothing more. She tried to restrain the sobs. They seemed tiny and helpless. She must have looked laughable. 
  "Heiress Jayna Suri," the voice said from above her. It sounded like sand on gravel. "Or is it Minister now?” 

  He pondered his own question for a moment. “No, not until the inauguration, that’s right isn’t it? So, Heiress - for now - it truly is an honour. I've never bin' in the presence of royalty before so do let me know if my etiquette is a little off."
  He knelt down in front of her, his meaty hand came towards her face and gently lifted her chin. She just about managed to meet his eyes, but quickly looked away again. 
  "Look at me," he said with no politeness whatsoever. 
  She did, still shaking with terror. Her head shook from side to side, her nerves shot, her body threatening to completely fail on her. The man looked at her with eyes that showed no compassion. A waxy burn mark surrounded his right eye, giving it a slight droop. 
  "My name is Locke Goodman, Heiress. Captain of the Ocean Ghost. Behind me is Captain Sky Jackson, this is his vessel, the Crimson Sunrise."
  "Unlike Captain Goodman I have had the pleasure of being around royalty, well, in royalty anyway." Sky barked out a laugh and his crew joined in. Locke tensed up with a fury that made Jayna recoil. His odour filled her nostrils and his musk almost seemed to change with the anger. 
  He suddenly stood, whirling around to face the group. 
  "Someone unbind her!" he roared. "We're not animals."
  Jayna's hands were suddenly loose and she fell forwards. The nasty red welts around her wrists seemed to shine against her pale, terror-stricken skin.
  "Kill me..." she managed to whisper between sobs. It was almost to herself, perhaps convincing herself that it would be the best path to take. Anything was preferable to what they would do to her. 
  Locke leaned down again, and came in close. His stench was overwhelming. 
  "What did you say?" he almost whispered.
  Jayna said nothing. With him this close to her, she was suddenly too afraid to speak. 
  Locke gently moved her back onto her knees, then took her hand and kissed it. His beard was surprisingly soft, and brushed against her hand like a feather. 
  "There, is that the thing to do?" he asked. "Or is that shit too ol' fashioned now?"
  Still, she said nothing. 
  "Heiress, make no mistake, you may be on Jackson's vessel, but you are my prisoner and I won't have you tied up like a...like a well cured ham. Hopefully by the time we get you back on the Ghost the treatment will be a little better."
  "I -" Jayna managed in a whimper.
  "Ah ah ah. I don't get interrupted. Ever. Now, I understand you're in shock, we did just murder most of ya' family an' associates, decimated ya' home and its military. So I'm gonna let that little indiscretion slide for now, you don't know no better. But don't do it again, understand?"
  Jayna nodded, it was tiny, hidden among the tremors of terror. 
  "Once we're back on my ship, this will all become clearer. You can get your bearings, and calm down a little. You'll be okay, you have my word on that."
  He handed her a dirty handkerchief from somewhere inside his coat, but she didn't take it. He merely grunted in response and stood up again, looming over her in a somewhat protective fashion.  
   "Who is the man who brought her to me? Step forwards." 
  When the man who killed her father stepped forward, Jayna couldn't look anymore. If she'd had to look at him again she thought she might throw herself overboard to avoid living with the memory. She feared her mind would break. 
  "I did. Name's Lawrence Sanchez. Crewmate of the Angel's Hurricane."  Even the sound of his voice caused Jayna’s body to weaken with more distress. 
  "Lawrence," Locke stepped forward and held out his hand. Lawrence shook it. "Once we rendezvous with the Ghost, speak to my Bo'Sun. You take anythin' from my ship you want. Your choice. Your reward. I can't thank you enough."
  "Thank you, Cap'n," Lawrence replied. Jayna heard the exchange through eyes pressed tight. 
  "Jackson, you got a private cell?" At the sound of Locke's voice Jayna opened her eyes again, her gaze unconsciously flitted to Lawrence and he blew her a kiss. She swallowed the revulsion in her throat. 
  "Plenty," the man called Sky said to Locke with a nod. They could have communicated in surftongue, but Jayna had the slow realization that they wanted her to understand everything they said. Wanted her to know what was coming. Somewhere under the fear she knew that she should be watching, listening, and trying to learn all she could. Somewhere under the terror she knew that she was in a rare position, but none of that was getting through. There was no place for logic or ordered thought amongst the sheer hysteria that was rattling through her body. 
   "Want me to post two guards?" Sky asked.  
   "Yeah, I don't want her to be disturbed. Or damaged or harmed in any way. We clear?"
   "You bet," Sky said with a smile. "Take her away." 
   He gestured to the unknown men behind her and Jayna was suddenly hoisted up. Two hands immediately grabbed her breasts with a force that wasn't accidental. 
   "I don't want her touched!" Locke roared. The hands loosened. 
   "I see you touch her again, you'll be walking on air!" Sky had a pistol pointed somewhere over Jayna's shoulder, presumably at the source of the putrid breath encroaching on her ear canal.
   There was a momentary quiet on deck. Sky's finger twitched over the trigger.
   Then the tension broke as he burst out laughing. 
   "Break out the casks!" he cried and the crew erupted into cheers. 
   Jayna was dragged through the raucous crowd, a muscular arm under each armpit. She looked around helplessly at the dozens of jeering, filthy faces - all of them laughing at her, celebrating her suffering. She was pulled backwards, paraded around for all of them to see. It was a nightmare. Surely she would wake up soon and discover that it was all a terrifying nightmare. 
   She was pulled into a gloomy corridor, forced down stairs, carried down another passageway and eventually thrown into a small cell that plunged her into blackness. 
   I'll wake up tomorrow and this will be over. This cannot be real. Any of it. 
  But of course it was. Crouched in the corner of a musty cell, Jayna wept, even as the gas started to pump through the vent. She was a prisoner, trapped on a tider ship at the mercy of every kind of depravity her mind could conjure up. 
  Parliament will send help, someone will know where I am. 
  It was a lie of course, one that she would tell herself over and over. She knew in her heart of hearts that help was not coming. How could it? No one would have any clue where she was. She'd be passed from ship to ship, moved from cell to cell. Eventually ending up in a place that she was too terrified to imagine.   
  She lay on the filthy, cold deck, covered in every kind of fluid her body could pass. It was the first of many, many nights that Jayna would spend a prisoner of tider forces; the first of many nights where only through crying and screaming her throat hoarse could she force her body into unconsciousness, hoping that eventually, she would never wake.