Rig Runner

She pressed her black claws against his throat, but Eriksen stared her down, unflinching as she bared her sharp teeth. After a moment her expression softened and she released her grip on his hair, pushing him down to the deck and laughing heartily.

"You know, I'm starting to believe that you're not full of shit, Eriksen. I'm going to have fun breaking your spirit."

"You can try," he spat, "I'll die before I give you the satisfaction."

"You just might," she murmured, biting her lip as she watched him pick himself up. "You'd better get a shower and a change of clothes, I want you fresh for the next time I humiliate you."

Eriksen scowled at her and left the room.

CHAPTER 4: ONCE BITTEN

After raiding the food stores, the giant alien had fallen asleep on one of the bunks. She hadn't even tried to get the cockpit keycode out of him again. Eriksen couldn't believe how incompetent she was, she had given him the run of the ship with apparently no qualms about him attempting to escape. Maybe she was used to her victims becoming so pliant and passive that the thought of it hadn't even crossed her mind.

The aft of the ship was probably still depressurized, the hangar bay along with it, but her shuttle was just sitting there with nobody supervising it. He could steal it, then fly it outside of the Warden's jamming range. The alien couldn't get access to the cockpit, and she would have no way off the freighter if he took the only shuttle. He would only have to wait for help to arrive, and then he'd be home free, she might have survived a nine-millimeter handgun but she sure as hell couldn't weather a UNN Marine boarding party armed with railguns.

He would have to repressurize the bay, however. The rush of air as it escaped the hab module would rouse her, and she still had that emergency oxygen kit on her. She had also torn up his pressure suit, best to find one of the backups just in case. The freighter had taken enough damage that it would be foolish to assume that he could rely on the life support systems.

He made his way to one of the unused crew cabins, finding another yellow pressure suit and pulling it on over his clothes, securing the hood over his head. These damned things felt so fucking flimsy, it was like wearing a plastic raincoat. If only the shipping company gave enough of a shit about its pilots to provide them with sturdier gear. Some ship-to-ship weapons and maybe a CIWS system would be nice too, but that would probably violate a hundred UN security regulations. Fucking paper-pushers.

He crept out of the room and headed towards the door to the hangar, hoping that Nazka hadn't damaged the motors when she had forced it open. He tapped at the touch panel that was built into the frame. It showed zero pressure on the other side and no atmo, he would need to close one of the bulkheads in the access tunnel that linked the fore of the freighter to the aft, could that be done from here? He didn't dare to open the cockpit door, even temporarily. He couldn't send a distress signal as long as the Warden was in range, and if Nazka happened to wake up at an inopportune moment, he'd be royally screwed.

He tinkered with the panel for a few minutes before discovering the command that he was searching for, and a two-dimensional map of the freighter appeared with the locations of all the bulkheads and doors. He selected the one furthest down the access tunnel, but it flashed a red warning symbol, indicating that it wasn't functioning properly. Must have taken some damage during the explosion, no matter, he'd activate the one that was right in the middle of the tunnel. This one closed, showing a good seal, and he instructed the system to begin pressurizing the hangar.

It was a good job they hadn't lost power, or the force field that stopped the air in the bay from escaping into space wouldn't be active. Those things always made him nervous. There was nothing but a sheet of energized particles a nanometer thick separating him from the void. The barrier would allow solid objects to pass, however, meaning that it was quite possible to fall through if you were careless.

The hangar took an excruciating amount of time to pressurize, being the largest space on the freighter, Eriksen dancing nervously at the control panel as he waited impatiently. Nazka could awaken at any moment and deliver some horrific punishment if she caught him trying to escape, and he felt an unwelcome pulse in his loins at the thought of it. He almost regretted leaving without going all the way with her first, he wouldn't get another chance, but it was more than his life was worth.

Come on Eriksen, stop thinking with your dick and get the hell out of here, he thought to himself as he watched the blue bar that indicated hangar pressure slowly fill. You can buy all the women you want with your company hazard pay when you've got solid ground under your feet.

The door finally slid open, Eriksen wincing under his plastic hood, afraid that the sound would wake Nazka. He hurried into the bay, his eyes fixed on the old shuttle. The landing ramp was still down, and the alien hadn't even thought to secure it. This was almost too easy. He mounted the ramp, making his way through the troop bay and into the cockpit. This model really was archaic, and he was amazed that it was still spaceworthy. The pilot's chair had been modified for use by Borealans, he felt like a child as he hopped up into the oversized bucket seat. The rest of the shuttle was all built with human measurements in mind, and a Borealan pilot would have to lean down regardless to avoid hitting their head. He removed his hood and took a breath of fresh air. Okay, time to fly this crate out of here.

He flipped the switches to spool the main engines and hit the button to raise the ramp, performing a hasty pre-flight check as he prepared to leave the hangar. His heart pounded in his chest, he was almost free, just a few minutes more then he'd be in open space. Nazka would have no possible way to reach him.

Nothing was happening. He stared at the console, confused, and flipped the switches again. Still nothing. He started to panic, tapping at the touch panel to check the status of the systems, but it was as if everything was dead. Was there some kind of security lock on the ship? Could he break into it or find some way to hack it? He was running out of time, his window was closing. Nazka wouldn't stay asleep forever. He started to hit more buttons and flip more switches in a panic, but nothing worked, nothing responded.

He froze as he heard heavy footsteps behind him, claws clicking on the landing ramp as a shadow was cast over him. Nazka blocked the door to the cockpit as she loomed over him, then he felt her claws sink into the padding on his seat, the alien slowly rotating the chair to face her.

"You can't fly it," she said, lifting her hand and wiggling her fingers. "It's locked to my pad-print."

Eriksen sank into the chair, crossing his arms and scowling up at her, her smirk boiling his blood.

"You must really think I'm stupid," she said. "I wouldn't let you run around on your own if I thought that there was any chance of you escaping, and I know that you're too weak to do any real damage to me if you tried to brain me with a fire extinguisher in my sleep or something. You can't lock me in a room and vent it either, because I have my oxygen mask, and I can force those flimsy cabin doors open."

She lurched towards him suddenly, closing her large, furry hand around his throat. She choked him, Eriksen gripping her furry forearm, gagging as she crushed his windpipe with her powerful fingers.

"Now what should your punishment be for trying to escape? I could choke you out, but I don't know how long humans can go without oxygen. You'll be no fun to play with if I turn you into a vegetable."

His eyes widened as he battered her arm with blows, his lips starting to turn blue.

"Oh, I know!" She released him, and he fell back into the chair, gasping for breath and rubbing the spreading bruise on his neck. "You know what Borealans do when they want to let other people know that someone belongs to them?"

He didn't answer, glaring at her.

"We leave a nice, visible bite mark on their neck. Shows other Borealans that they're not up for grabs and to stay away unless they want to deal with whoever planted that mark. Might be a little more painful for a human but it'll look real cute on you, and it'll last a lot longer too!"

Eriksen hesitated for a moment, then scrambled out of the chair, darting between her legs in an attempt to escape into the troop bay. She grabbed him by the collar and threw him back into the seat, stepping into the cockpit and pinning his wrists to the armrests with her furry hands, her breath tickling his skin as she leaned closer and pushed her face into the nape of his neck.

"You should be flattered Eriksen," she whispered, "I'd only do this to someone I really liked. I want you all to myself, I won't let anyone else lay a claw on you. Don't you want to be my mate?" Her tone was mocking, but he couldn't stop himself from blushing. He shivered as he felt her warm lips press against his shoulder.

"You humans heal slowly, right? If I bite deep enough, it will brand you forever. Do you want a nice, visible scar to commemorate our time together?"

"There isn't even anyone else here," he spat. "And for your information, we have the medical technology to clear up a scar in the time it takes to get a haircut. Unlike you, we don't have to look like we've been through a meat grinder."

"Erasing your scars? How shameful. Scars are trophies to be proudly displayed, no wonder you humans look so soft and tender. That's good news though, you won't mind if I plant it deep. It's going to hurt for days and every time you feel the pain you'll think of me, isn't that romantic?"

He struggled to escape her, but her grip was too tight, the plastic frame of the chair creaking as she squeezed his arms. A bite was nothing, she was just trying to intimidate him, toying with him in her own sick way. It was working, however. He felt so vulnerable, pinned to the chair with her lips crawling their way up his neck. She nibbled his skin gently, and he shivered, arching his spine reflexively. He felt her textured tongue as it dragged across his throat, fear and arousal mingling into a confusing haze.

"Relax, this is supposed to be sensual. Would you like another kiss to loosen you up? You have to ask for it nicely though..."

"Just get on with it," Eriksen snarled, "as if you'd even know the meaning of the word sensual."

"Oh Eriksen, I'm offended. Oh well, if you insist, but I'll have to teach you to appreciate foreplay some time."

She sank her sharp teeth into the nape of his neck, biting down on him like a damned vampire, breaking the skin as she kept a firm hold on him to keep him still. Eriksen gritted his teeth against the sharp pain, but the burning became too much for him to tolerate as her fangs pushed deeper, a strained cry escaping his lips as she drew blood.

She pulled back, licking her lips as she watched his reaction, releasing his arms. His hand shot to his neck, feeling wet blood that was now staining his clothes, and he applied pressure to the bite as she smirked at him. She reached down and pulled his hand away for a moment to get a look at her handiwork, chewing on the tip of one of her claws excitedly as she watched.

"You taste so sweet, Eriksen, it's getting me all riled up. You'd better go put a bandage on that before I decide I want the main course."

She let him out of the seat, and he elbowed past her, one hand keeping pressure on the wound as he made his way down the landing ramp. He glanced momentarily at the freedom of open space beyond the force field as he set off towards the med bay.

***

Eriksen sat in front of a mirror in the freighter's small medical bay, applying a gauze pad to the bite on his shoulder with tape. It had looked a lot worse than it really was, but now that he had cleaned it, it was just a few puncture wounds that didn't really go deep enough to require any further attention. She could have taken a clean chunk out of him like a fucking shark if she had actually been trying to hurt him, but this was just another one of her games. He grimaced as he gave himself a precautionary tetanus shot. Hopefully, her insanity wasn't contagious, he wouldn't be surprised in the least to find out that she was rabid.

She seemed to have claimed one of the unused crew cabins and was making herself at home. She was depleting his food supplies extremely quickly too, the giant alien consumed an absurd amount of calories. She must have believed him when he told her that he was going to fight her to the bitter end, she was settling in for a long stay. If she was going to break him as she put it, then she obviously thought it might take a while, or perhaps she just wanted to savor the process.

So plan B had failed, no matter, it was time to start work on plan C. If he stalled her for long enough then eventually his shipping company would get word that his delivery hadn't arrived on time and they would send someone to look for their valuable property. That could take days though, he couldn't rely on them. He wouldn't last that long with Nazka doing her best to crush his spirit. He had a couple of days at best, maybe a week. He suspected that her methods would get more and more physical as her frustration mounted.

He couldn't overpower her or outrun her, so he would have to outsmart her. He had to make a mental list of what resources he had available to him on the ship. It would be trivial to poison her food, but as an alien, he had no real idea of how she would react or what dosages would put her down. He was no chemist. If he was going to try something, then it had to kill her outright, half measures would only result in more of her punishments. He couldn't space her, suffocate her or otherwise use the atmospheric controls to take her out as long as she had that emergency oxygen kit. But perhaps he could steal it from her...

It was risky, but she had to take that stupid leather jacket off some time, when she showered or when she slept perhaps. It might be worth trying to separate her from it and then vent whatever room she was in. She said that she could break through the cabin doors and he had seen her do it, they weren't reinforced like the cockpit door, but could she get out in the minute or two that it would take her to lose consciousness? It was a big gamble, maybe that would be his plan D.

Perhaps there was a way to get that giant gun off her. It looked like a weapon of Borealan design, a human would scarcely have been able to hold it. Maybe it had the caliber and power to bring her down, he doubted that she would have carried a gun that was as effective against her fellow Borealans as his Walther had been. It would be just as difficult and risky as stealing the emergency oxygen tank from her jacket, but this plan had the added benefit of not needing to wait for hypoxia to kill her. One trigger pull would probably do the job assuming that he could fire the massive hand cannon.

It was decided then, plan C. Find a way to get the gun and use it on her.

CHAPTER 5: CLAWLESS

"Get me more food," Nazka demanded, lounging on a couch in the small common room as the furniture sagged under her weight. The cabins in the hab module were all the same size, there wasn't much space. Each one was a rough cube that was lined with the same beige padding to protect against sudden acceleration and low-G. Nazka hadn't tried anything funny today, but she was acting like she owned the place and it was starting to get under Eriksen's skin.

"You already ate all of the canned meat. It would have lasted me a month, and you ate it in two sittings."

"It wasn't very good," she complained, scratching absent-mindedly at the pleather lining of the couch with the claws on her paw-like feet and tearing the fabric as he watched her with a scowl. "You humans don't know how to cook. It's embarrassing really, it's so dry and tasteless."

"Feel free to cook it yourself then," Eriksen replied, indignant. "Or better yet, fuck off back to your own ship and eat whatever it is that your kind likes to eat."

"There's no need to be rude. Besides, I can't cook the way that I'd like to. You humans don't have any condiments or oils that are used to enhance the flavors. Even then it's not even fresh meat, it's processed stuff, tastes like crap."

"We have condiments, ketchup and mayonnaise, hot sauce."

"No, I mean oils, don't you monkeys have oils?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Eriksen said, crossing his arms at her as she stared up at him with her yellow eyes. "We have cooking oil, olive oil, sunflower oil to name a few. Not on this ship obviously, this is a civilian freighter, not a cruise liner. They give me the bare minimum that I need to stay healthy, and that's about it."

"What a sorry existence. You spend your whole life working, and you don't even get to enjoy any good food."

"I could buy good food if I wanted to, I just have...priorities."

"Like what?" Nazka turned towards him, resting her cheek on the armrest of the couch as she waited for his reply.

"Well, I have to pay off my heavy freight license, going to school to get the certs to fly this thing wasn't cheap. Then there's the cost of the insurance and permits so that I can actually get it out of the docks. Conventional fuel comes out of my pay depending on how much of it I use and how conservative my burns are, same goes for avoidable damage and general upkeep. Docking fees apply if I overstay. I got fucked in taxes last year because the UN has been trying to replace us with drone ships, the crew is already down from three to one because none of the shipping companies can afford to pay us these days. On top of that, we don't get hazard pay anymore if we have to travel to the outer colonies near Bug space, we have to prove that we were actually in some kind of danger which is basically impossible unless we have sensor data showing a fucking Bug cruiser on a pursuit vector. Then there's all the loans that I need to pay back, rent for the apartment that I live in for the few months of the year that I don't work, income tax. You know, the usual stuff."

"So you live on this tin can for months at a time, and you have to cover most of the costs yourself? When do you actually get to spend any of the money that you earn?"

"The point is, buying gourmet food is low on my list of priorities because I'm a productive UN citizen and not a freeloading space pirate like you. I work for a living."

"Sounds like you're a slave to me. I own my ship, and I make enough to buy anything that I want. I probably only work for a few weeks out of the year. The rest of the time I'm living the high life back on the homeworld."

"Yeah well for you, having running water and electricity is considered the high life."

"You sound bitter, Eriksen."

"I have good cause to be bitter, because you're here, fucking with my livelihood. I'm going to be paying off this fiasco for the rest of my life." He sat down heavily on a nearby chair, resting his arms on his knees as he stared forlornly at the padded carpet.

"All the more reason to come be my cabin boy," she said with a grin, "I think you'd like the Borealan lifestyle a lot better than your human one. All you do is work all the time and you never even get to enjoy the rewards. If you're part of a pack, then your Alpha is responsible for feeding and housing you. It goes both ways, there are benefits to being an Alpha, but there are responsibilities too. Keep your pack well nourished and strong, and they'll serve you all the better. You wouldn't have to worry about any of that anymore."