Sarah tested the blade of her knife along the edge of her thumb. It did nothing. Even a skilled knifeme,or knifewoman, she thought, wouldn’t be able to do much damage with this thing. It was duller than one of her “History of Spacecraft” lectures. The memory of her courses brought with it a wave of sadness. She thought of how Margaret used to pass her notes during that class that always said something like “shoot me” and would include a little drawing of stick figure Sarah holding a gun to stick figure Margaret’s temple. Sure, it was dark, but that was Margaret for you. If only she could talk to her friends, even if it was the last time. She just wanted to say goodbye. To them, to her parents, to Bernie. Her fear of dying had depleted with each near death experience she had encountered since being taken prisoner. She no longer wished for freedom; she just wanted to be able to tell her friends and family what happened. She knew if they weren’t given answers, they would assume she was dead, or worse, they would assume she was alive, and never stop looking for her.

Whether she died by Grom’s gamma-blaster, his dragon claws, or was sold to be a slave to some other savage, abusive alien, she had given up any hope of going home. So when Nickle came to visit her the morning they landed on Beffund, and told her Wex needed her help getting the transmitter to work, Sarah was less than enthusiastic.

“What’s the point?” She was sitting cross legged on her bunk, still playing with the knife.

“Um, to get you off this ship?” Nickle suggested.

Sarah raised the knife above her head and brought it down with all her strength into the thin pad atop her bunk. It went through the pad, with only a little resistance, and hit the metal stand beneath with a tink. “It will never work.”

“It might.”

“Yeah, or we might get caught and Grom might slit our throats.”

“I don’t understand.” Nickle looked down at his feet. “You were so confident before.”

“Yeah, and look at where that confidence got me. Look at where it got all the other prisoners.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You had no way of knowing.”

“I should have acted faster. Instead, I was too busy wallowing over my own situation, trying to save my own skin.”

Nickle moved to sit next to her. “Well, of course you did. You’re only human.”

“That’s exactly it.” She shook her head in frustration. “I’m only human. I’m just a thing to these aliens! Just an object. It doesn’t matter what I do. They own me.”

“So, you’re not even going to try to get the transmitter working?” Nickle said, sounding almost irritated.

“I’m not even sure I could get it working, I mean, if Wex is having trouble then—”

“So you’re not even going to try?” Nickle’s sudden rise in voice gave Sarah pause. She looked up at the doctor and realized he was near tears. “You’re just going to give up on yourself, on all those humans being sold at the markets, on me?”

“On you?” Sarah felt tears stinging in her eyes, too, but she wasn’t quite sure why. “Nickle, where is all of this coming from?”

“I guess, I just thought…” Nickle allowed the tears to flow freely, “I guess I thought if you had a chance of escape, then maybe I did too.”

Sarah could feel Nickle’s desperation like one feels humidity after a summer rainstorm. “Oh, Nickle, I’m so sorry. I hadn’t even thought about—God, I’m so selfish. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own troubles, I totally forgot that you’re here against your will too. I should never have involved you in all my scheming. It’s too dangerous. If I hadn’t lied to Reema that day in the kitchen—”

“If you hadn’t lied to Reema, she would have killed me.” Nickle laughed a little, his tears slowing. “She’s been looking for an excuse to gut me since I accidently let it slip to Wex that she tested positive for an STI after her last check up.”

Despite her deep, overwhelming sorrow, the idea of Reema having an STI made Sarah break out into uncontrollable laughter. Nickle couldn’t help but join her and the two let loose until their stomachs hurt and tears were streaming their faces.

Finally Nickle collected himself and said, “Man, it’s been a long time since I’ve laughed like that. My wife used to make me laugh like that.”

“You have a wife?”

“And a daughter. Back home. It’s been about five years since I’ve seen them.”

His voice nearly broke again as he spoke of his family. Sarah hadn’t realized how much was riding on this. No wonder Nickle was so adamant she didn’t give up.

“Sarah, I know what happened with the prisoners was a huge setback, but I really think we have a shot at freedom here. If you help Wex, I know you two will get the radio working, and then we’ll call for help. If we can get someone from the Federation on the line, they’ll come busting in, guns a blazing! And we can both return to our families.”

The doctor’s enthusiasm was infectious, and she wanted to give herself over to it, but she needed to keep a level head. She had been too optimistic last time and it clouded her judgement.

“Nickle, listen.” The doctor’s smile wilted into a stern line. He sat down again and Sarah continued. “I will help Wex with the radio, and I will try my hardest to get in contact with someone, but I’m telling you right now this plan is far from foolproof. The chances of us getting a signal and finding the right channel are slim. And that’s assuming we don’t get caught. Then we have to pray the federal guards are actually able to find the ship, considering we travel well out of the range of the designated safe lanes. The odds are not on our side. I need you to understand that.”

“I understand, really.” Nickle’s voice quickened with excitement and Sarah had to cut him off.

“Nickle, I’m serious. I need you to stay focused, and most importantly, to stay realistic. I will be nervous enough as is, but if I have you standing over my shoulder talking about how excited you are to see your wife and daughter again, well…it’s too much pressure. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but it’s the only way.”

Nickle steadied his voice and breathed in deeply. “Okay. I understand.”

“Good.”

“So what now?”

And as if he was waiting for his cue, Grom entered the room without knocking. He looked at Nickle then at Sarah and narrowed his eyes.

“What’s going on?” he barked.

“Oh, I was just checking on Sarah’s tongue,” Nickle answered hurriedly. “I wanted to make sure it was healing properly.” He turned to Sarah who had opened her mouth. He gave it a quick once over. “Looking good. Does it still hurt?”

“Not really. I burned myself with some boiling caffie-drink yesterday, which hurt like hell, but otherwise it feels fine.”

“Well let me know if anything changes, and maybe lay off the caffie-drink for a few days?”

Sarah smiled. “Never.”

Nickle returned the smile and left the room without another word.

“You two seem very…chummy,” Grom noted.

“Well he is the only other human on board.”

“And you’re both the only slaves,” Grom added rudely.

“I guess that’s also true.”

“I’m heading to do negotiations. I want you to come with me.”

“Why?” Sarah’s heartbeat quickened. “Does this have something to do with the ship?”

“Not exactly.” Grom’s eye moved to the knife sticking out of the bunk pad.

Sarah ripped it free. “I took it from the kitchen. Contrary to your orders, the crew sometimes gets too close for comfort.”

“And you think that will keep them at bay?” Grom smirked.

“Gotta work with what you got.”

“Those knives couldn’t cut through butter.”

“Does that mean you’ll let me keep it?” Sarah asked hopefully. She didn’t really care about the knife, but she was testing the waters of Grom’s trust.

“I guess that’s fine. As long as we can stop talking about this. We’re going to be late.”

“I don’t understand why I have to go. If it’s not about the ship—”

“You have to go because I said so, and I’m the boss. That’s all you need to understand.”

Since he let her keep the knife, Sarah felt it was her turn to compromise. She stood up without argument and said, with just a tinge of sarcasm, “Alright then. Let’s get a move on, bossman.”