Ealu: The Saoirse War - Short Story

Albee is a slave on a Saibhir residency ship, desperate for freedom and autonomy despite the light-years standing between them and their dreams.

Captured again and tortured for answers, the Saibhir believe that Albee had help trying to escape.

Is there a resistance on the ship? Or is it a dream created by torture?

Ealu, the thrilling science fiction short story from the Saoirse War Series, will take readers on a journey of survival, bravery, and resilience. If you enjoyed the fast-paced action of The Hunger Games, you won't be able to put down this gripping story of a daring escape. Buy Ealu now!

Excerpt:

Saibhirs were precise in their routines. Every night at 10 PM, they went to sleep in their bedroom. They always complained about how exhausting their day was but I never understood it. Mister leaves every morning at 8:30 AM to sit at a desk and tell other Saibhirs what to do. He returned after 5 PM. Drank ambrosia, inhaled a thick, stinky weed, and viewed entertainment on the screen.

Mistress did nothing all day. I knew this for sure because she gave me orders to do work in the domicile from her couch. I cleaned everything, I prepared the meals, and I executed the errands.

I was their Bocht slave.

Many years ago when I was a lumpling, the Saibhir army raided my village. The army bombed the homes and collected the survivors. My tuistí were dead, their bodies left in the rubble where I cried for them. Where the soldiers captured me and threw me in the back of a truck with others.

I was brought to a conversion ship where after I learn to state my master race, I learned how to care for Saibhirs. Catering to their needs was my new top priority and destiny. I would die doing it.

When I matured, I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing the laziness of my Mister and Mistress. I couldn’t tolerate the disrespect they had for me even though their kind thought they were entitled to own a Bocht slave. Most of all, I couldn’t take myself. I had no respect for myself.

What was the alternative? The war was still raging and there was no way off the residency ship. If there were, they would surely blast me out of existence.

Maybe death was better than a lifetime of servitude to spoiled, entitled, and blanched Saibhirs. But I needed to try to escape first.

At 11 PM, I snuck out of my room which was once a closet before I arrived. The domicile was a two bedroom but Mister and Mistress wanted the other room empty for overnight guests. Also, what did I need all that space for? I was small. I had no soul, in their eyes. I was an object. The closet was big enough for me to curl into a ball on the floor. However, they gave me a thin mat made for their domestic animals to sleep on and an old blanket.

On bare feet, I soft-stepped down the cold floor of the white, steel hall, passed their sealed bedroom door, and stepped out into the living room. A time ago, I first thought of exiting through the main door but then saw that they turned on an alarm when they slept or left the domicile to protect their expensive and prized furniture and devices. An alarm intent on calling the armed guards within the residency ship. I had heard from other Bocht what they do to slaves that tried to escape. The beatings, the torture. The vicious dogs. No way I wanted that to happen. Not if I could stop it.

Instead, I could escape through the ventilation system. The grill in the social room was the biggest. Once I removed it and tried to slip inside, I found resistance. It was snug. My hopes depressed. Only for a moment. I only had to shed some skin to fit. I removed my uniform and my naked body squeezed in against the thin metal with ease. I pulled myself through the tunnel with my elbows. But I squeaked from the friction.

Most of the time, the sound wasn't a problem until I approached a grill to another unit. Thankfully, it was late at night and if there were Saibhir on the other side, they were deep asleep. They loved to take pills to either cause intoxication or unconsciousness. Why the Saibhir were so avoidant of reality when they had all the power and comfort was a major conundrum. Nonetheless, I moved slowly and cautiously passed the vents.

I intended to reach a loading dock or landing bay where I could steal a small craft. Hopefully, an armed one made for long-range flight. I never flew but from what I heard from my Mister it was not too difficult. He often talked to the Mistress about the fighters and weapons the company he worked for made. They often spoke freely in front of me. They assumed I wasn’t listening. They assumed my brain was too small to understand more than orders.

After slithering down to another level, I found another grill. This one had sounds on the other end. A Mister was on the bed watching entertainment on a screen and a Mistress was sleeping at his side. His heavy eyes tried to stay open. I had no choice but to wait for him to sleep. No way I could chance a squeak.

So I lay there and waited.

And waited.

Did this Saibhir take a pill to stay awake? It was possible. Anything stupid was possible with this species.

The Mister yawned and rose from the bed. He headed towards me, almost stopping my heart, but not directly. I saw no other door so I assumed he was heading to an exit at my side of the room.

Now was the time to cross the grill.

Using my sore elbows, I pulled myself through the square metal tunnel.

Movement from the vent caught my attention. The Mister’s stubbly face peered through the slats. Before I could flinch, he yanked the grill off, grabbed my arms, and pulled me out of the vent. I found myself on the bedroom floor where I lost my breath for a moment.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, pointing at me with a thick, hairy finger. “You trying to rip off your owners?”

The Mistress screamed and pressed to the headboard.

“What is that doing in here!” she screeched.

“Call the guard,” the Mister ordered.

The Mistress grabbed the communicator from the night table.

I screamed out and ran for her, intent on taking it and smashing it. The Mister tackled and pressed me to the wall.

“Don’t you touch my wife!”

He punched my side a few times. My panic, my rage exploded, I grabbed his face and plunged digits into his eyes. Blood filled the ports in the fingertips and the eyeballs slid out around them.

The Mister released such a horrible scream that I leaked waste on their floor. He scratched at his eyes, twisted, and danced around the room. The Mistress, kneeling on the bed, screeched and slammed her hands up and down.

“What did you do to him,” she bellowed. “What did she do to you?”

The Mister fell on his back, still clawing his eyes like a maniac, and pushed himself across the wet flood. Since the Mistress made no move to restrain me, hopefully too scared, I pulled myself back into the vent. Squirming through the tunnel, I cared nothing about hiding my existence as I passed other grills. I needed to escape the Saibhir screams back in the bedroom. As I continued on, they diminished. But something else took their place.

A siren blared.

“Attention!” a calm, female Saibhir voice said. “Attention! A slave has escaped and is loose on the ship. We ask all residents to lock their doors and to report any sign of a Bocht currently in the ventilation system.”

The Mistress must have told them where I was at. I continued on. Sweating and panting my exertion. I peeked in any grills left open, searching for a place to hide or escape. An empty room had to lead to salvation or the docking bay.

Scratching ahead.

And behind.

Fast, frantic scratching as if something with nails were running against the metal surface.

No. Oh, no. Please, don’t let it be.

A barking followed.

They sent in the dogs!