The Leak, Part III.

"Look at 'er hair."
"Fuck her hair, look at them milkmakers."
"It's been a long fuggin' time, mates."

Lying flat on her back, Ingrid felt their gaze before she even opened her eyes. She was completely naked. Whatever had been used to cover her flesh before was now down at her feet.

Footsteps and a shaky voice: "Allright give the woman some rest, she has been through enough without having you sons of bastards peekin' up her skirt. Get on, there's work to be done, no?" The covering was pulled back up to her chest. Groans.

Voices fading: "And what would you know about work old man? Eh?"
"Yeah, get off it, Ang, you lazy bastard. Cut-up."

Ingrid felt a shiver of relief to hear them go.

"You can wake up now, love, it's all right."

She opened her eyes, sat up, and immediately examined her pelvic area. Felt her genitals, expecting blood. She looked up, saw a small crumpled man in green scrubs with his back to her.

"You still have your baby. I checked."

"How long have I been out?" she asked him. The room was narrow, just a couple gurneys pushed up against the long wall, and some shelves with medical equipment and supplies. Nothing looked very clean.

"Four days. You were in the oh-two chamber for a while. They don't pump much oxygen in these halls."

"You're a Fuel ship. I recognize the uniform. Not yours...the orange ones."

"Oh, you're an Army brat, are yeh?"

"I'm an Officer. But...yes, my mother and father were...were Commanders." Ingrid had forgotten what it felt like to be safe.

"Ah, well, your dad managed a high rank didn' he."

"Yes, he did," Ingrid replied automatically.

"Well, you must be wondering why I'm not wearing Oranges like the rest of 'em. You decent?"

"What?"

"You covered up decent? I'm gonna turn around. Not like I ain't seen it, but, yeh know, for your sake..."

Ingrid wrapped the rough wool blanket around her, tucking it in on top.

"Yes, ok."

Ang turned around. He held something in his left hand -- it was his shriveled right arm, which rounded off at the wrist with a white bandage. No hand. He held it out for her to see. The scars licked up his arm in angry pink flames.

"Burned in a fire, right here on this ship. Flesh all but melted off. Wasn't just my hand, neither. Scars go uh...all the way down."

"I'm sorry." Ingrid looked away. She rubbed her pelvis, fighting off images of Peter's blood splattered across her vision. She needed to eat.

"What's your name?"

She had to think for a second. "Ingrid."

" 'Tsa pleasure, Ingrid. I suppose I took over Med Bay, after the doc left. Just trying to keep my mind busy, now that I can't work. It's not so hard, we got burns and breaks mostly to treat, but...I never done a pelvic exam before. Had to look it up." He grinned briefly, to himself.

Ingrid hopped down from off the gurney. She broke Ang's distant gaze with a quizzical look.

"We been out for almost a year on supply missions. My god, you're tall," Ang started. He eyed her clavicle, a couple inches above his head.

"I need some clothes, please. And, do you have any food? I'm really hungry."

"Right-o, you got a bun to feed. Everyone needs fuel." He winked at her as he handed her a set of green scrubs, black socks, and grey slippers.

Ang pulled open the door with his good arm. The corridor looked bleak behind him. "I'll be back to fetch you in a minute," he said with a weak smile. Ingrid shivered involuntarily and when the door closed shut, she hastily covered herself.

***

The canteen was empty when they went in. Everything was fully automated; enriched protein and carbohydrate compounds of various disguising flavors were released from storage tubes that ran up the side of the wall. Ingrid gobbled down a double serving of spaghetti; afterwards she took the vitamins Ang gave her. Sated, she sat back to watch Ang manage a fork with his non-dominant hand. Just then, the Fuel Men switched shifts for lunch.

Ingrid had never seen so many males gathered in one place before. They were loud and boisterous. The first young man to see Ingrid shouted out in a strange falsetto, "Woooie, boys, the ship's serving pussy for lunch today!"

Most of them got in line for food first, then turned to look at her. A few stragglers walked right up to her and stared. Ingrid felt her face turn hot.

"Don't mind 'em. Most of them have balls the size of mine," Ang said quietly.

"How do you mean? Castration?" Ingrid asked. Some of the men who had their food sat down on either side of her.

Ang looked into her eyes for the first time. "No, that doesn't happen out here, love. I'm talking about the dual fuel. The petrene, it puts out some uh, real delicious gaseous byproduct, it's called dual, or fog. Heavy gas, sits right on top of the liquid. You inhale it, most times without trying. Rots the brain and the testicles, but...certainly makes a 12 hour shift and a year without a woman go by a bit easier. Am I right boys? Everyone needs fuel!"

"Go fuck yourself, Ang. I got a dick bigger than that stump of an arm you got," one man said.

"Yeah Ang, stop wasting air," said another.

Ang's smile went dark.

Ingrid stood up with her tray to leave. She felt a hand on her back. The man to her right was pulling her to him. Suddenly, he lowered his head and buried his nose in her crotch. He was rooting around and sniffing loudly as the whole cafeteria erupted into a roar. They'd all been watching, waiting for it. Ang was frowning, staring at this act, but did nothing.

Ingrid gasped and reacted. She threaded her fingers through his red hair and yanked his head down, then stuck her fingers into his nostrils and dug her nails into them. He squealed and snorted.

"Stay the FUCK away from me, pig! You got it?!" She felt hot tears form. The red-haired man grabbed her hand and pushed her body away with frightening ease. He stood up from his seat on the canteen bench and turned around to face her. He was easily six foot five and broad.

She stared timidly into eyes that held the color of a clear winter sky on the home world. His shock of greasy red hair stood up where she had pulled on it.

Ingrid's instinct to run froze. "You...you're the one who saw me. You saved me."

Somewhere a bell screamed out for a shift change. The men filed out of the door as noisily as they had entered. This red-haired man, her savior, left without a word. She watched his big pink hands swing back and forth as he walked away. A dozen guys rushed up to him excitedly.

Ang made her flinch when he came up behind her and touched her elbow.

"He's the one who saved my life."

"S'all right now, love. Let's go back to the Med Bay. We're to meet with the Captain."

"Don't touch me again...please," she added quietly. Her thoughts ran wildly.

Don't let anyone here touch you. That is how to survive. If they touch you, you burn up like they do. We must devour each other. So all things live. Be killed or kill. Don't have to try, because you will.

Only my baby may devour me. That is survival.

"Okay, all right," Ang walked next to her, respectfully. "Let's just get you some rest."