a/n: Book tag: "Starship: Pirate" by Mike Resnick. WARNING! includes: Sex-Slavery.

~Esteban Morales thought wasn't above anything else, until his hero makes him believe otherwise~

Greater Things

When Wilson Cole took him from the Achilles, Esteban Morales knew that he was destined for greater things. He wanted to prove that the hero hadn't made a mistake in taking him aboard the Theodore Roosevelt. So he kept no secrets about Captain Montague Windsail and the pirate business, except for one thing that involved himself, the one thing that would have everyone aboard the Teddy R looking upon him with pity.

It was true that he had been with Windsail since he was fifteen, but he hadn't joined as willingly as he lead Wilson Cole to believe. He was booty, not a shipmate. He was born in the Inner Frontier to a rich family that Windsail had targeted, stolen all their money, and their only son. Esteban was meant to take after his father in running the central medicine depot of the Inner Frontier, but Windsail made him a slave—a slave that catered to his every sexual want.

The first time he was taken with force. He fought tooth and nail. As he did for the dozens and dozens of next times, until he woke up one Standard day, and realized that no one was coming for him, no one was going to save him. So he didn't fight any more. He let Windsail do whatever he wanted to his body, did whatever was expected of him to do to Windsail. Sometimes he even enjoyed it; and sometimes when Windsail was off collecting booty, he'd let the pirates that stayed on the ship do things to him, and he'd do things for them too.

He knew of nothing else anymore. So when Windsail was killed, and all the other crew as well; he let this animalistic nature take over as the other pirates' tried to make him their slave. But when he heard their Captain "Baker" talking about Chori-whaterever-it-is... he didn't want to end up with his brain neurons burned out, so he surrendered. He just hoped he could service his knew Master well enough that he wouldn't get jettisoned.

But after he told Rachel Marcos and Bull all they wanted to know about Windsail, Wilson Cole didn't take him to his private quarters. Esteban was so confused. Was he not good enough for the hero? Did he already have another body slave? Then he started to wonder if this was a test. Was he supposed to show Cole how good he was? That must be it. Cole had high expectations, and Esteban had to show the older man how good he was.

So Esteban started to watch Cole closely; his moods, his thinking, his body language—for signs of that pent up energy or feelings—so he could be there when Cole wanted to release it the only way Esteban knew how.

And one Standard day, when he caught sight of Cole coming from the Bridge after his blue shift, he saw that tenseness. This was it. He was going to do his job, make the Captain happy and show his worth. He came into the Corridor, shoulders straight, face determined as he followed Cole back to his cabin. But it was going to be different this time, this was a hero, after all. Wilson Cole was a better man that Windsail could ever imagine being, and Esteban just hoped that he did the man justice.

Cole disappeared into his room, and Esteban came to his room a minute later. He engaged the communicator beside the door, knowing that his fingerprint and retnagram wouldn't allow him into the Captain's quarters... yet.

"Who is it?" Cole's voice came through the device a moment later.

"It's Esteban Morales, sir." Esteban answered.

"I just came off shift, Morales. Is it important?"

"Yes, sir. I don't think it can wait. May I enter?"

There was a long pause on the other end, and Esteban was afraid that Cole was going to reject him. But then he answered. "You can enter,"

"Thank you, sir." Esteban responded as the door irised and allowed him entry. As it closed behind him, he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with Wilson Cole. The room had no personal touches whatsoever, yet it shouted that it was Cole's; like a piece of marked territory.

"What was it that was so important, Mr. Morales?" questioned Cole, from where he sat on the edge of his bed.

Esteban tried to calm his erratic heart, he was surprised at how nervous he was—he never felt this kind of fluttery-ness around Windsail before. He knew what he was supposed to do, he just wanted to do it right—to make Cole proud of him.

"Morales!" said Cole, now standing in front of the young man. "You said it was important,"

Esteban blinked, Cole a few feet in front of him, looking tired and tense. And he was going to fix that. "Very important, sir." He agreed.

"Well...? What it is?"

Esteban smiled his most charming, coy smile. And stepped forward. He kissed Cole on the lips, not forcefully, but how he'd learned; soft but firm and sensually, allowing for dominance.

Cole seemed frozen for a second, and then Esteban felt his big hands placed on his small chest with a force. He flew through the air and away from Cole, his back hitting the doorjamb. He gave a cry of pain as he fell to the floor.

"What the hell?!" Cole roared.

Esteban flinched. He'd done something wrong, he approached this wrong, he must've still been thinking about Windsail. He got his knees under him and glanced up at Cole, he could still feel the throbbing in his back.

Cole was breath heavy, staring down at him in surprise, confusion, and disgust. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping whatever traces of Morales that were still there.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he demanded.

Esteban turned his gaze away, bent at the waist, his forehead touching the cold metal of the floor. "I'm sorry, sir! You set a test for me, and I failed. I deserve whatever punishment you wish to give me." There was silence as he waited.

Cole was even more confused than before. "What are you talking about, kid? And why are you bowing? You know what," said he, "I don't even want to know. Just get out, and don't ever think of doing that again!"

Esteban furrowed his brows. No! He couldn't be sent away! "Please, sir!" he begged. "I can do better, I swear. Just please don't send me away—I'll do anything!"

"I don't want you to do anything!" Cole told him. "That's the whole point. I don't know why you thought coming in here and doing that in the first place was a good idea. Now get out!"

Esteban's head whipped up, his eyes brimmed with tears. Now all he could see on Cole's face was anger and disgust, but there was still a little confusion in his eyes. Why was this happening? Where had he gone wrong?

"I said, get out!" repeated Cole, hard.

Esteban gulped and scrambled to his feet, he knew that he should do what Cole said, and leave, but he couldn't. "Sir, please!" he cried, "just give me another chance, don't do away with me."

"Morales, what the hell is wrong with you?" Cole took a step back, it wasn't that he couldn't defend himself, he just wanted some distance between them in case Esteban tried anything again.

"I'll do better next time, I swear. I'd been with Captain Windsail for four years, but I can change, I can make you happy—I can do you right!"

Now the confusion was back into Cole's eyes more fully. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

Esteban sniffed and now looked at him in confusion now. "Sir?"

"Explain what you are saying." He said.

"When I was fifteen Captain Windsail robbed and killed my family, he took me aboard the Achilles as his slave. Now that you've killed him, and brought aboard your ship, you are my Master."

Cole looked at him with open horror for a moment before he was able to control his reaction. He looked down for a moment, taking a deep breath, before he looked back at the boy in front of him again. "What... kind of slave?" He asked slowly, tensely. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to get a conformation on what he already knew was the answer.

"...His body slave." Esteban told him.

Cole put a hand over his mouth, he felt sick. The revulsion he felt towards Windsail was boundary-less. This boy—this kid—was forced to have sex with that monster for four years?! He went and sat heavily on his bed, he needed to sit. He was there for a while, his head in his hands as his brain ran in endless circles—everything that he thought he knew about the kid was just dreams.

Esteban watched him, and when it seemed that the Captain wasn't going to be moving any time soon, he hesitantly stepped over and sat down on the bed next to him, close. Cole didn't even seem to notice him until he reached out and tentatively ran his finger tips, feather light, down his spine.

Cole shivered and jerked upright, surprise on his face to find Esteban so close next to him. "Esteban..." he started.

"You've never had a body slave before, have you, sir?" he guessed.

"Of course not!" Cole agreed.

Esteban smiled gently at him, his fingers still touching his back. "I know that you and Colonel Blacksmith are together, sir." He said, his confidence seeming to flow back, as Cole didn't shove him away and listened to him. "But maybe I can help you with things that she may not be able to,"

Cole was frozen in horror. He'd seen and been through a lot of things since he was old enough to join the Navy, but none of that seemed comparable to what this boy went through. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, how could he fix this?

Esteban leaned forward and kissed Cole again.

Cole snapped back into the here and now. Felt his kiss, feather light, like his fingertips down his back. This time, when Cole shoved him, there wasn't that much force to carry the boy off his feet, but enough to be firm and dislodge him.

Esteban looked at him in confusion.

"Morales—Esteban... you are not my slave—sex or otherwise—okay? That's not why I brought you aboard the Teddy R, but as a crew member. I into women, not boys." Cole explained.

"But—" Esteban started to protest.

"I said no." Cole stopped him. He stood and looked down at the boy. "If you can't let this go, then as your Master—or whatever—I release you from slavery." he waved his hand, thinking quick on his feet.

Esteban jumped to his feet. "Sir, please!" He begged in confusion.

"I said: I release you from you service... to me!" he said awkwardly, but commandingly, like a Captain. "You're free. Now leave my quarters, and we'll never speak of this again." He pointed to the door.

But Esteban didn't move; he was lost and confused. Cole looked at him with pity; he guessed that this was all the kid really knew anymore. He took a deep breath before he stepped to him and put a hand on either of his shoulders. "Esteban, I know that it can be scary to have everything you know ripped out from under your feet like a rug, but your a good kid. You'll land right back on your feet. You're destined for greater things than this Esteban Morales. I promise,"

Esteban looked at him for a long moment, before he finally nodded.

"Go back to your quarters and get some sleep," Cole gave his narrow shoulder squeeze before he let go, and jerked his chin at the door.

Esteban swallowed, and went to the door, it irised to let him out before snapping closed behind him, and off from Cole. His head down, he went back to his quarters alone and in the dark. More than just a rug had been tugged from beneath his feet, but his whole world—all that he knew anymore.

What was he now, if not a body slave? What was he supposed to be? He thought back to what Cole said. Could he really be destined for better things than slavery? Or was Wilson Cole just saying that out of Pity? Esteban thought about it a while longer, and a while longer, until he truly believed what Cole had said to him

He was destined for greater things.

He supposed that was why he found himself Piloting the Archie, with a thermite bomb sitting passenger, flying through space to meet up with an energy pulse before it made Riverwind nothing more than a hole. He wanted to be great—he wanted to be a hero like Captain Wilson Cole.

He wanted to one Great Thing in his life, not just because it was his destiny, but because Wilson Cole said it was.

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