Unbound

PART 1: NO CHAINS

Nothing screams 'new guy' like failing to open the entry hatch.

Beside me, the large avian reptile raises what I think is an eyebrow, and I feel my face flush. He punches the rear bulkhead and with a hiss of hydraulics, the ship's ramp lowers, the light from inside blinding me. The space dock flickers with shadows, and I step back.

It all began with an interview a day earlier, and there are two things I will admit to you. First, I'm terrible at interviews, the second, I'll fill you in on that later.

"Simon Fox, twenty-two, born 2172 in Apollo City, Vesta Moon, Trappist F," the avian says in one breath, leaning back in his chair. Then, with a deadpan expression asks, "Straight out of freighter school. You're a thrill seeker then?"

"Freighters aren't fast... Oh, you're joking," I reply, inwardly groaning.

He stares at me with a stony expression, causing me to sink into my chair.

I sit at an old industrial desk, cold brushed metal, stretching at least two meters, and in an office rented in a rarely used part of Apollo City. It resides on the ground level, surrounded by vacant offices and sparse food outlets. The creature opposite me shuffles papers, which I think is unusual considering my resume was electronically submitted. I try to see what the raptorin is looking for.

Just to fill you in on what a raptorin is, just imagine a humanoid covered in scales, jade and violet feathers, and an elongated muzzle. They resemble a velociraptor but are referred to as 'bird' or 'avian' and aren't known for their sense of humor. Personally, I think their jaded feathers reflect their personality.

Some conspiracy theorists think they were originally dinosaurs, but it's never been proven. We, and by we, I mean humans, accidentally discovered the aliens about one hundred and ten years ago. It was a tumultuous meeting that I won't spoil for you here.

"So," the raptorin says in a deep, oppressive voice. "Why would a Decree spy want to join a small crew of reclaimers?"

That sets me back. My hands sweat and I fear the patches under my arms will reveal my true purpose. If he thinks I'm law enforcement, this will be over soon.

I'm not a Decree agent, by the way.

Before I can answer, a grin reaches the corner of his mouth and he says, "I'm joking with you of course." He puts the papers down and stares at me. "If I really believed that, this interview would be rather short, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, of course," I laugh nervously. "A spy wouldn't have gotten lost trying to find this place."

"Time keeping isn't on your resume, I guess. Then again, neither are navigation skills so we're lucky you're not interviewing to be a pilot." He stares at me, and I struggle to hold his gaze before he asks, "You served on a ship straight after graduating?"

I feel the shakes fade and the lump in my throat clear. "The Dracon. Strange name for a hauler, right?"

"Indeed." He stands and reaches out his hand. "My name is Mr. Glide. You may refer to me as such."

So that was the interview, which ended with a positive call that night, offering me a position on the crew.

Mr. Glide now stands next to me, his bulk blocking out most of the light emanating from inside the cargo bay. I take a moment to admire the run-down cutter class vessel and wonder how an asymmetric ship can even fly. The left wing is far larger than the right, with a cockpit at the front and four engines concealed at the back. Glancing over the forward section, I can just make out the worn and flaked lettering of her name.

"Unbound."

An ugly duckling, and I think her beautiful.

As the rear ramp reaches the ground, my eyes adjust, and two other crew members stroll down. Looking like a scar faced killer from the documentaries I watched as a child, the man in front gives me the chills. The ingrained fight-or-flight instinct in my brain tells me to run.