Page 12 of Journey to the Forbidden Zone

Her words hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. Her gaze locked onto Carmen’s.

“Is that who we are now,Captain?”

Carmen flinched internally. The word, “slaver,” landed like a lash. Images flashed – Corso’s smug face, Maltese’s greasy smirk, the XenX’s vulnerable form in the stasis chamber. Trapped. Used.

Were they now just another set of predators in this cutthroat galaxy? The shame from the cantina, from her failure to secure a decent job, curdled in her stomach, mixing with the fresh horror of their discovery. Control. She needed control.

But the options felt like choosing between drowning in acid or suffocating in vacuum.

Sark shifted uncomfortably.

“Look, Letitia,” he said, “nobody’s saying it’s right, but … two hundred thousand creds? That’s life or death for us. Literally. Those COPS fines? The debt for the seized cargo? They’re gonna catch up. And when they do …” He trailed off, his large, brown eyes wide with remembered fear. “We all know what happens to crews who can’t pay.”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Everyone knew they would be lucky if the worst that happened to them was getting spaced.

“This … this Xena … it’s awful, yeah,” Sark continued. “But it’s also a miracle. A way out.”

A miracle.But miracles were always expensive, she’d thought only an hour or so ago. Carmen suspected the price of this one was astronomical.

“A way out built on selling another living being!” Letitia shouted, her voice trembling with fury. “How is that anydifferent from what Maltese or his client planned? We just become the middlemen in her misery!”

“Her cultural practice suggests she may not perceive it as misery,” Norvik interjected smoothly. “The XenX view service as?—”

“Stop hiding behind her culture!” Letitia whirled on him. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks! It’s wrong! And we know it’s wrong! We’d be profiting from it! Using her!

“Captain, please. We can’t do this. We find another way. We let her go. Drop her somewhere safe, far from UPA space, near her own people.”

“And how do we find her people, Letitia?” Carmen snapped, the frustration boiling over. She pushed off the chair, resuming her pacing. “Zed? What’s the data say? Can we even get to the Forbidden Zone?”

Zed’s head unit swiveled towards her, lenses focusing.

“Navigational data on the Forbidden Zone is restricted and fragmentary within UPA databases. The barrier network surrounding it is extensive and heavily monitored. Projecting a safe penetration vector would require precise coordinates we do not possess and navigational calculations beyond the capacity of theAntilles’s currently damaged systems. Probability of successful, undetected entry: less than 0.8%. Probability of catastrophic failure during the attempt: 97.3%.”

The numbers landed like hammer blows. Less than a one-percent chance. Near-certain death. Carmen stopped pacing, leaning her forehead against the cool metal bulkhead. The chill did nothing to soothe the heat building behind her eyes. Letting the Xena go wasn’t an option. It was a suicide run dressed up as nobility. The gas giant’s swirling bands filled the viewport, a vast, uncaring prison.

“See?” Sark said, his voice small. “We can’t get her home. And we can’t keep her. If the COPS find her here, it’s not fines.It’s life. For all of us.” He looked pleadingly at Carmen. “Selling her … it’s the only practical choice. Get the creds, fix the ship, disappear. We survive.”

“Practical?” Letitia spat the word. “It’s cowardly! It’s evil! We survive by becoming the very thing we’re running from!”

She rounded on Carmen again, her intensity almost physical.

“Captain, think! What if it was you in that box? What if it was Sark? Or me? Would you want someone to just sell you off to the highest bidder because it was ‘practical’?”

Carmen closed her eyes. The image flashed – not herself, but Captain W’Ooshlee, falling under Corso’s mutineers. Helpless. Betrayed. The old guilt, a constant companion, flared white-hot.

Was she about to betray someone else? Condemn this alien woman to … what? Some rich pervert’s private zoo? The thought made her skin crawl.

But Sark’s terrified face, the memory of the COPS boarding party, the crushing weight of their debts. Survival wasn’t just a desire; it was an imperative.

“It is not merely an ethical quandary,” Zed stated, his synthesized voice cutting through the emotional turmoil. “There are significant tactical considerations.”

All eyes turned to him. Zed wasn’t the tactician on the crew. That was usually Carmen’s role.

“Such as?” she asked.

“Attempting to sell a XenX on the black market would necessitate contacting known traffickers or intermediaries. This action would inherently broadcast our possession of such a high-value, illegal asset. Given theAntilles’s current operational deficiencies – compromised shields, degraded sensor suite, unreliable point-defense turrets – we would be exceptionally vulnerable to interception or seizure by rival parties seeking to acquire the XenX without payment.”

He extended a manipulator arm, gesturing with precise articulation.