Page 12 of Savage Union (Brutal Universe #2)

11

JESSINA

I didn’t know what to think of the interaction I’d had with Turk on the bridge. It was clear he didn’t recognize me—which was a relief. But for a moment, when he was holding my arm to keep me safe during the worm hole jump, I’d almost felt like he cared for me…or for the boy he thought I was.

But then he had gone cold again and told me not to presume too much, so I decided I was probably just imagining things. After all, I wasn’t his “little bird” in this situation. I was just a young, inexperienced navigator who was new to his ship.

I soon had other things to worry about, though. Not long after the first jump, it was time for dinner. The entire crew—except for Turk, who apparently ate in his quarters—filed down to the mess hall and sat together at the battered metal tables.

I made sure to go early, so I could claim a spot and not have to ask to sit with anyone who made me uncomfortable. But no sooner had I settled myself, with a dented silver tray filled with greenish-brown slop that was apparently the greasestain the ship’s cook had been making earlier, than a rough voice said,

“Hey, Catamite—you’re in my seat!”

I looked up and saw one of the crew I’d seen earlier when Snuffy had first brought Gurflug and me to our quarters. He had navy blue horns and a menacing scowl on his face.

“Er…sorry.” I scooted down the bench to a spot further along the table. But I had no sooner gotten settled when another voice said,

“Now you’re in my fuckin’ seat. Move, Catamite!”

I looked up again to see another crew member—this one even bigger than the first—glowering down at me.

“Sorry,” I said stiffly, getting up. “I didn’t know there was assigned seating.”

“Well, there fuckin’ is,” the crew member growled. “Meaning you’ll sit wherever we tell you.”

“You can’t order me around—I’m the ship’s navigator!” I protested. “I outrank you!”

Which turned out to be the wrong thing to say. The crew member loomed over me, his eyes flashing.

“You what, boy? I ain’t outranked by no fuckin’ Catamite!”

He looked so menacing that I couldn’t help taking a step back. All the crew members with the exception of Snuffy and Yorrin the pilot towered over me and outweighed me many times over. He was simply too big to fight—at least for me.

I wished that I had thought to bring my stinger with me. The small weapon which looked like a pen was useful because it delivered a hefty jolt of electricity to an assailant.

But what justification could I give for using it in this situation? I couldn’t just go shocking people all over the ship when they were rude to me—it wouldn’t be tolerated, I was certain.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” the Brute crew member grunted. He sat down at the table where I had been a moment before and began shoveling the gloopy greenish-brown greasestain into his mouth, using a piece of brown bread-loaf as a utensil.

By this time the mess hall tables had all filled up. There was no room—even Gurflug’s table was crowded—probably because he was taking up one whole side of it with his bulk. What was I going to do?

Then someone said,

“Hey, navvie—over here.”

It was Jerx, waving to me from the far corner of the mess hall and pointing to the seat right beside him. He was grinning in an unpleasant way I didn’t like at all, but there was nowhere else to sit.

I should have just turned my tray into the washing slot and left the mess hall right then and there. But I was hungry and besides, I’d just backed down from one confrontation. If I started running away from every crew member aboard The Illyrian, I would be seen as a coward and a weakling.

I told myself that I couldn’t act like a girl anymore—I had to be manly and tough. Surely I could handle sitting beside Jerx for one meal. I would make a careful note of who sat where and try to get a spot beside Snuffy or Yorrin, who seemed to be the only decent crew members, next time.

Lifting my chin, I walked over and slid into the seat on the bench beside Jerx, who was on my right. The crew member to my left scooted over without comment to let me in. But once I was seated, he scooted back again, pushing me uncomfortably close to Jerx.

However, Jerx didn’t seem to mind that I was shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

“Settle down, navvie,” he told me, scooping some of the greasestain into his mouth and chewing loudly.

“Er, thanks for the seat,” I said to him stiffly. I was encouraged by the fact that he was calling me “navvie” instead of “Catamite”—a word I had yet to learn the meaning of.

“Eat up—this is Cookie’s specialty,” Jerx informed me. “It ain’t the best, but it’ll keep your motor runnin,’” he added, nodding down to the nauseating mess on my tray.

“Um, okay,” I said nervously.

I was determined to at least try the greasestain, despite its appearance. If I started getting picky I would starve—it wasn’t like there was any way to get snacks out here in open space if I didn’t like what was served for supper.

I took a small bite and had to force myself to swallow. Greasy slime coated my tongue with a strong, fishy flavor that made me want to gag. Goddess of the Four Faces, it was foul . I hastily gulped from my squeeze bulb of sweet floxian juice to wash away the slimy, putrid taste but it still lingered on my tongue like the memory of a culinary assault.

Luckily, I also had a hunk of the brown bread-loaf on my plate and it hadn’t touched the greasestain. I slathered it with a smear of green prixin butter and took a large bite.

The chewy, grainy bread helped some—it was tough and sour but at least it wasn’t fishy. I had finished about half of it and was in the act of washing it down with another drink of juice when Jerx started talking to me.

“So, navvie—this your first time aboard a ship?” he asked casually, smiling at me in a way that I didn’t exactly like. It was a calculating smile—it didn’t quite reach his flat black eyes.

“Um…aboard a ship like Illyrian, yes,” I said cautiously. I didn’t want him or the rest of the crew to know how green I really was. If they found out that I’d never navigated outside the simulator, they probably wouldn’t want me plotting routes for them.

“Uh-huh. And is the Captain payin’ you extra?” was his next question.

I cut my eyes at him, taking in the fact that he was wearing his uniform shirt unbuttoned again and thick, black tufts of chest hair were sticking out of it.

“Extra for what?” I asked, uncertainly. I had a feeling that he was making fun of me or baiting me somehow, but I wasn’t sure how to extricate myself from the conversation.

“You know—for playing two roles on the ship,” Jerx said casually. “Bein’ a navvie during the day and a Catamite at night.”

“For the last time, I am not a Catamite—whatever that is!” I exclaimed, irritation overcoming me.

There just happened to be a lull in the conversation at that moment and my voice came out loudly—so loudly that the whole mess-hall heard it. There was silence for a moment, and then a chorus of rough male laughter.

“Hark at him!” the Brute crew member who’d made me move in the first place shouted. “Tryin’ to pretend he’s not here to service the crew!”

“I’m not!” I shouted back. “I was only hired to navigate—the same as Gurflug!”

I had a bad feeling that I was losing control of this situation, but I didn’t know how to stop what was happening. I looked around for any friendly face but Snuffy and Yorrin had apparently both finished eating and had already left the mess hall.

“Don’t lie, you little snot,” Gurflug said coldly, glaring at me with bulging purple eyes from across the mess hall. “You know you were hired as a Catamite— I’m the ship’s navigator.”

There was a murmur of conversation following his lie that drowned out anything I might have said—and honestly, I didn’t know what to say. I had a vague idea of what “Catamite” meant— though I hoped it was wrong. I was also enraged by Gurflug, but I didn’t think protesting that he was a liar would do any good.

“See—I told you he’s a Catamite!” Jerx said to the crew member on my other side—the one who was pushing me into him.

Suddenly, to my great discomfort, he threw a heavy arm over my shoulders. His shirt gaped open and I could smell the stench of sweat coming from his armpits. Mixed with the fishy smell of the greasstain he’d just eaten, it was a nauseating combination.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I asked, trying unsuccessfully to shrug his arm off.

“Just gettin’ acquainted. Don’t worry, little Catamite,” Jerx said to me, his breath heavy with sour, fishy odor. “I can tell you haven’t done much of this before. I’m gonna break in your rosebud nice and easy.”

“My…my what?” I asked. I was feeling really uncomfortable now. The single bite of greasstain I’d had mixed with the indigestible lumps of the bread-loaf were churning in my gut. And Jerx’s odor wasn’t helping matters any, either.

“Your rosebud—your asshole,” he clarified for me. “I promise I’ll use lube as long as you bend over like a good boy and take it.”

“Take…take what?” I whispered through numb lips, though by this time I already knew. As a Clan Cruel princess, I’d been raised in a very sheltered environment—but I wasn’t stupid.

“Take my dick , of course. Right in your tight little Catamite asshole.” Jerx grinned at me and I could see slimy bits of the greasstain in the cracks of his teeth.

The sight made me even sicker. My stomach rolled and I couldn’t even answer him, though I knew I should. I ought to be protesting that I wasn’t a Catamite—which I now understood, must be some kind of male prostitute for the crew to use. But I was sure if I opened my lips—even a little—I was going to throw up. So I kept them grimly sealed.

“Listen up!” Jerx shouted, addressing the whole mess hall. “I get first dibs on the Catamite. He’s mine until I say otherwise.”

“Hey—you can’t keep his ass all to yourself!” another rough-looking crewmen protested.

“Can’t I? Fuckin’ watch me!” Jerx snarled. “He’s mine— ain’t you, boy?”

He looked down at me again but I couldn’t answer. Because at that moment, I absolutely knew I was going to puke. I don’t know if it was the horrible situation unfolding in the mess hall or if something in the meal had disagreed with me, but it didn’t matter the reason—I was going to lose it.

I shook my head frantically, and tried to get out from under his heavy arm again. I had to get out of here—to get away from the fishy stench of the awful supper and the hyper-masculine reek of sweat and testosterone and unwashed bodies.

But Jerx wasn’t letting me go. His grip on me tightened, his long fingers—which had fingernails caked in black grease, I noticed distractedly—curling around my arm.

“Uh-uh, navvie. Or should we call you ‘Catty?’” he breathed in my face. “You’re not goin’ anywhere. You and me have a date in my bunk in about?—”

But he didn’t get any further for at that moment the contents of my stomach heaved themselves up and out…all over his chest. I watched in horror, unable to stop, as slimy chunks of chewed bread-loaf lodged themselves in his thick chest hair and dribbled down the front of his open uniform shirt.

Puking wasn’t pleasant but it saved me from almost certain rape.

“The fuck!” Jerx shouted and shoved me backwards, off the bench. I somehow twisted and managed to land on my side, not my back. I staggered to my feet, still gagging as Jerx brushed frantically at the chunks of vomit in his overgrown chest hair.

The other crew members made way for me as I staggered through the narrow aisle between the tables and out of the mess hall. I had a thought that I ought to tell them again that I was a navigator— not a Catamite—but I felt too sick for that.

Instead, I staggered further down the hallway until I found the communal washbasin and toilets. I rinsed out my mouth in the basin and drank some water to calm my angry stomach. Then I pushed my way past the curtain into a toilet stall.

The stalls were separated by metal walls on the sides but the plain white curtains at the front really didn’t offer much privacy—it wasn’t like you could lock yourself in.

I bent over the plain metal rim, waiting to see if anything else would come up…but nothing did. My stomach was still rolling, but it felt a lot better now that the stuff I’d had for supper was gone.

I frowned as I rubbed my mouth with a swatch of wiping paper. It must have been the bite of greasstain that had affected me so badly. I didn’t think the bread-loaf would have done it. I would have to be really careful about what I ate from now on—I couldn’t be puking during every meal.

Though I couldn’t say I was sorry I’d thrown up during this one. It was embarrassing, sure—nobody wants to throw up in front of a room full of strangers. But it had saved me from Jerx’s disgusting plans for me—which was doubtless to drag me off to a dark corner and…

I couldn’t finish the thought—it was too awful.

I was really going to have to watch my back here, just like Snuffy had warned me. But I was going to be living and working with these men for at least a solar month—could I really keep my distance for that long?

I didn’t know—but I surely hoped so.

Otherwise the living conditions aboard The Illyrian were going to go from unpleasant to downright hellish.