My mouth gagged, hands bound behind my back, I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I would love to say I gave Paige a struggle, but the simple fact was, she easily overpowered with a few well-placed kicks and punches to the legs and body that had me gasping for breath.

  I was then dragged kicking and screaming to the lounge area for the residents of the ship; sofas and coffee tables with everything from board games to inbuilt entertainment systems surrounded us.

  I even spotted VR helmets and chairs for people who liked to game.

  I took it all in and tried my best to avoid the newest feature to the room: blood.

  Blood coated the walls and floors as bodies lay scattered about the room, all lying prone in the last moments of how they died. Some were slumped against the wall, some were sprawled face down over chairs, some gave off the smell of urine or excrement, as their bodies had given out in their last dying moments.

  Paige tied and gagged me, then she sat opposite me while she cleaned her knives. Blackish-grey, the knife and handle were made out of one piece of steel, which had patterns along the whole blade that reminded me of running water.

  “Beautiful, aren’t they?” she asked, lifting one blade up to the lights. “They are both from the tenth century and made from Damascus steel; the steel is named after the city of Damascus, which was the capital city of Syria. I love these blades. They keep their edge no matter what they have to go through or cut. They say technology has figured out how to make sharper, harder, more resilient blades, but who knew how to make blades better than the very people whose lives depended on it?

  “Yes, anyone can create a blade now with all the technology we have now, but the need for it isn’t the same. This blade is made out of necessity. The blade of the future is made for art.”

  I stared at her wide-eyed and gave her a nod, feeling foolish immediately after I had done it.

  She went back to cleaning her blades and allowed the silence to once again envelop us. She cleaned her blades with a focus and passion I had rarely seen, working in the office. It was a look that spoke of love and care.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  She looked me in the eye and smiled faintly before turning her attention back to her work. “Things got a little messy and out of control. After I drugged the mercenaries I had planned for it to be a simple task of collecting you and what we came for and then making our way to our ship. I didn’t expect the mercenaries to wake up so soon, or for them to have a secret stash of weapons hidden away somewhere.

  “I was hoping I could complete this task injuring no one, but that idea soon flew out of the window after they fired the first shots.”

  What was she expecting to happen?

  We were on board a ship full of mercenaries who had been hired to protect the ship and its cargo and they had tried to do their job, while she drugged them, damaged their gear and tried to get away. They were simply doing their job and if that meant shooting at her then so be it, I just didn’t know what would now happen to me, or why she wanted me so badly.

  Footsteps echoed through the ship and made me look up as a man with dark skin and a bald head entered the room. He had a short goatee speckled with grey hairs and a tattoo of a gun target near his temple. Another man, who wore a black shirt and a clerical collar, followed in his footsteps. A ginger mop of hair gave way to a great brushy ginger beard.

  “What the hell, you two!” said the ginger man, in a heavy Irish accent. “You killed everyone before Sodom and Gomorrah got their chance to have some fun.” He tapped together a pair of pistols that had Christian crosses etched into the handles. “This bunch of sinners were pretty overdue for their time with the Lord, I believe.” He looked around the room and gave a dismissive snort. “Bunch of fuck wizards.”

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  The man with the bald head and dark skin walked towards me and slightly lowered the tinted glasses that covered his eyes.

  “‘I fell in love with a hooker who robbed me of my soul. I fell in love with a hooker who robbed me of my sight. I fell in love with a hooker because she was the only woman for me. I fell in love with a hooker till the only thing I had was two packs of cigarettes and thirty dollars on me.’

  “That song,” said the newcomer, “was my daddy’s favourite, from a band called Junk Yard Dogs. It was a band he loved more than me, it was a band he saw more than me, and it was a band that meant everything to him. One day I grew the balls to ask him why, and you know what he said, amigo?”

  I shook my head from side to side, fearful of the answer.

  “Because, boyo! That song represents life. No truer words have ever been sung in no song. Then he passed out on the sofa, drunk off his lazy ass.”

  I said nothing as all I could see was my fearful reflection in the lens of his shades.

  “I bet you’re wondering why we hijacked your fine ship here? It’s simple really, you have something we want and we have something you want.”

  I said nothing as my eyes roamed over the three figures in the room. I could feel my pulse quicken as I did my best to slow it.

  “Oh, I can see in your eyes you don’t believe us, boyo. But we have the most important thing you value… your life,” he said with a smile that reminded me of a rabid dog.

  “Now if you would be so kind as to escort us to your room,” he said, lifting me off the floor, “and Poppy, I think we can lose the gag and bonds, don’t you?

  “It’s not like our friend here has any place to run to.”

  * * *

  They escorted me to my room and the only thing making a sound was our feet on the metal floor; I tried desperately to think of somehow to escape, but nothing came to mind without me being filled with bullets or the sharp end of a blade.

  How did this happen?

  I was just a simple office drone who was told what to do and worked until I was told not to. What did these people think I had that could profit them in any way? I just hoped after I gave them what they wanted they would leave me alone. Then it was only a case of trying to send out an SOS for help.

  We entered my room, and I turned back to the man I assumed was their leader. “What now?”

  “We want what they gave you to deliver to your sister station,” he said with a grin.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t concern yourself with that; all you need to know is your life depends on it, boyo. Now, where is it?”

  I walked through my lounge and entered my bedroom where my luggage was kept. Eyeing my crumpled business suit I quickly got dressed, not wanting to be killed in my underwear, and searched through my luggage until I picked up the old data-stick. Weighing it in my hand, I gripped it until my knuckles went white.

  “What’s taking you so long, you knob jockey?” came an Irish voice.

  I straightened up and took a deep breath as I walked back out. All three looked at me expectantly while I stopped in front of them. My palms began to sweat as I saw hands tapping ever so slightly on weapon handles. These people had shown a ruthlessness that scared the shit out of me, but I needed to do something, anything so they kept me alive.

  “How do I know once I give you this then you won’t kill me?”

  “You don’t, fuckface,” said Irish.

  “Look, Quinton,” said the woman, walking forward, “I didn’t want to use violence on this trip, that’s why I drugged those trigger-happy goons, but sometimes your best plans never work out how you want them to. I promise you once you hand over the data-stick then we shall be on our way. You have my word.”

  I looked into those beautiful eyes of hers and wanted to believe her. They were warm, inviting, trustworthy, but an image of a severed hand dropping to the floor jumped out at me and forced me to take a step backwards.

  I wouldn’t be another victim.

  In one swift movement I placed the data-stick in my mouth and swallowed.

  “No!” came the anguished shout of Irish as he rushed forward and grabbed me by the throat. “You stupid motherfucker! We were willing to let you go, but now you’ve fucked up! Ya think swallowing what we want will save you? I’ll just cut it outta you.”

  “Willis, no!”

  “Why not?” Willis said, hand still choking me.

  “Because,” she said, stepping forward, “I gave him my word I wouldn’t hurt him if he gave us what we want, and I always keep my word. Now let him go, or we shall have a problem.”

  “Are you stupid? He didn’t give us shit—”

  “If you want the data-stick—” I croaked as the lack of blood to my brain made me dizzy, “then you’ll have to take me with you.”

  “I still say we cut him open,” Willis said.

  “And I said—”

  “Poppy! Willis! Enough,” said the crew’s leader, bringing the room to silence. He walked forward and tapped Willis on the shoulder. The ginger asshole didn’t move, staring me down for a second or two, but a deep inhale of breath from their leader made him step back.

  Their leader came to a stop in front of me and looked me in the eye.

  I fought with everything I had to not look away. “Well, boyo, I like your cojones. If you’re up for a little adventure then we’ll take you with us, but you may come to regret it.”

  I already was.