The Slave Planet

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by Seven Steps


  “Okay. Let’s practice. I’ll be your master, and address you, and you can respond. Let’s see how you do.”

  *****

  Exhaustion pulled at Kiln as he walked home from the School. The lights in the Habitat started to dim.

  His mind focused in on his day, on Geo’s words.

  I’ve lied to those boys, he thought. I told them that their life would be full of hope and joy as long as they listened to their Empresses. The truth is I don’t know what will happen to them if they get chosen. They could get an Empress who makes them hate their existence. Will they think about the lessons I taught them, and realize how untrue they were?

  He tried to remember what it was like in Servant School when he was young, but the memories were clouded, tinted by leading a comfortable life for too long. He remembered being taught by older men, the same as these boys. He remembered learning how to garden, how to take apart a hovercraft and put it back together.

  Did anyone ever tell me about life? Did anyone kill my dreams, crush my spirit?

  The fact that he couldn’t remember comforted him a bit as he proceeded through the busy streets of Habitat Alpha.

  In front of him, the Square buzzed with life. Hundreds of men and women walked in and out, some holding large packages, some holding no packages at all.

  Kiln checked the small comm in the wrist of his grey jumpsuit, decided there was time, and walked in.

  Rows and rows of booths greeted him, filled with both men and women selling their wares. Some sold fruit and vegetables, fresh from Habitat Beta. Some sold more exotic foods from other planets. He strolled by one of the interplanetary booths, and picked up a deep blue, sphere. The small orb jiggled in his hand, and two white eyes moved to the front of the sphere. They seemed to look up at him with great interest.

  “It’s a snarff, a delicacy on planet Roliff,” said the woman behind the table. She was massively round, and her breath came in harsh gasped when she moved. “It’s excellent in soups. Some people eat it raw.”

  His stomach clenching, Kiln put the sphere down. He would not be eating snarff, raw or otherwise, today.

  A larger booth ahead boasted odd, ends and oddities. He walked to it.

  Perhaps they’ll have a new book for Nadira, he thought. Maybe even a recording of War Games.

  The thought of watching the two Martian teams go after a ball shaped grenade buoyed his spirits. He walked over to the table, wondering if he could find a new recording of his favorite player, Praxis.

  A commotion broke out behind him. He turned.

  Two Enforcers were dragging a man out of the Square and into the streets.

  “I have a P.A.S,” the man screamed. “Please, check my pockets. I have a P.A.S!”

  When they reached the street, the Enforcers dropped him to the ground. As the man pleaded for his life, one of the Enforcers took out a blaster, aimed it at the man’s head, and fired. The man’s lifeless body collapsed backwards, his screams still echoing through the Square.

  Kiln swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

  The Enforcers rummaged through the man’s pockets, found the P.A.S, and rip it in half.

  One of them got on their wrist comm and began whispering into it.

  Probably with some bogus story of how the man was trying to run away. Typical.

  Kiln shook his head.

  Is this what life is like in the Residential? Enforcers killing men in the street for sport? Will the man’s master wonder what happened to him? Will she mourn? Or will she forget about him, and head to the Slave Market to buy another tomorrow?

  He closed his eyes, held back the tears for his fallen brother. He didn’t know the man, but he was a man, and he was dead.

  Someone must mourn for him, Kiln thought. Even if it’s just me.

  He waited until the Enforcers disappeared, leaving the man’s corpse in the street for sweepers to pick up later. Walking out of the Square, he gave a brief regard to the corpse.

  May the Mother Goddess Venus receive you.

  He then stepped over the body, and joined the building crowd as he made his way home.

  Chapter 11

  Cyreen, Amerish’s Prime Servant, flew the hovercraft out of the Residential, and over the sweeping homes and gardens that made up the Outer Ring.

  “Wait until I show you off at Empress Vesta’s dinner tonight.” Amerish poked at one of Tigrim’s arms. “She will be so jealous.”

  “Mother, he’s a servant, not a new pair of boots.”

  “Oh stop it, Eva. He likes it, don’t you Tigrim.”

  “Yes, Grand Empress.”

  “See?”

  Amerish looked over at Lex, scanning him from head to foot.

  “Eva, you sure know how to pick them, don’t you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Eva asked.

  “He looks so old with that beard. You should have him shave it off. What are you, Lex, thirty?”

  “Twenty two, Grand Empress.”

  “Only twenty two, huh?” Amerish looked skeptical. “Well I guess he’ll do.” She turned her full attention back to Eva. “Speaking of old, when are you going to start having my granddaughters?”

  Eva rolled her eyes. “Mother, I’m not having a daughter any time soon.”

  “Well, you’re not getting any younger.” She turned to Lex. “Do you have any experience with children?”

  “Yes, Grand Empress. I took several classes in Servant School in child rearing.”

  “Mother, I’m only twenty two! I am too young for a daughter.”

  “Oh Eva posh. I had you at eighteen. Give it a few more years in High Council, retire while you’re still young, take the pay out, and pop out a few girls for your mother to spoil.”

  “Mother, I’ve only been at High Council for a week. I’m not thinking about retiring right now.”

  “Don’t talk back to me Eva. I’m giving you good advice, advice any mother would give to her daughter.”

  Eva looked out of the window and sighed. “Yes, mother.”

  After a few minutes of silence, her house came into view.

  Finally.

  Solar panels covered the curved roof of the home, which sat on over an acre of origgrow covered land. The front door was painted black, in stark contrast to the bright white home. Bolted into the left wall was a grayish water tank. A round topped garage that could accommodate up to five hovercraft sat in the rear.

  “Eva, why don’t you come to the dinner party tonight? You can show off Lex. I’m sure there will be people there who share your sense of... uh... fashion with your slaves.”

  Eva pressed the door release before the craft touched down.

  “Thank you mother. Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps? What plans could you possibly have?”

  “I’m tired, mother,” she lied.

  “Oh.” Amerish looked at her nails. “All right, dear. I’ll see you tomorrow. We can have lunch.”

  “Yes, mother.”

  Eva jumped out of the craft, grateful when she heard it pulling away.

  That woman will drive me crazy one day.

  She reached the door, pressed her finger to the scanner, and waited for it to pop open.

  Lex clasped his hands behind his back and followed her inside.

  The two floor home boasted high ceilings, lots of shut windows, soft braided rugs and sturdy, overstuffed furniture. A square metal plate in the middle of the room served as transportation to the second floor. Both the furniture and the colors were unassuming, with plenty of blacks, grays, and navy blues. Heavy blankets laid across every chair.

  Lex pulled at the collar of his jumpsuit with one finger, “Are there other servants here, Empress?” Lex asked.

  “No, just you.”

  The walls were an elegant pattern of gray and white. It went well with the dark furniture. The only light came from small chandeliers in the sitting room and above the elevation pad.

  Eva looked around her house with pride. “The dusti
ng may take you a while.”

  Lex wiped his brow with the sleeve of his suit. He was a few inches taller than she was. She liked looking up at him.

  “Should we open the windows, Empress?”

  Eva shrugged. “I kind of like it dark.”

  “I mean to let the place air out.”

  “I don’t know. It’s kind of chilly.”

  She walked over to the gray sofa, and picked up a touch screen in a white case.

  “Here is your Preference Manual.” She handed it to him.

  His eyes still roaming the room, his hand reached for the screen. Beneath the case, their hands touched, and Eva’s world ignited.

  He pulled his hand back as if she were fire.

  “I’m sorry, Empress.”

  She didn’t move her hand for a moment, cementing in her memory the feel of his warm skin. Biting her lip, she looked down at her trembling hand, fully expecting it to have changed somehow. To her surprise, it looked exactly the same.

  Decorum. She heard her mother’s voice in her head, and snapped back to reality, placing the heated hand behind her back.

  “It’s alright,” she said, and quickly turned away.

  He continued his examination of the room as if nothing had happened.

  Eva cleared her throat, feeling as if she’d lost some ground. “I must say that it’s nice to have another person in this house. It seems so big with Baster gone.”

  And lonely.

  Her eyes flitted to the sofa where she laid most nights before passing out, covered in blankets in front of the news feed.

  “Baster?” his dark eyes latched onto hers, and Eva’s pulse skittered.

  “My previous slave. He died last week.”

  “My apologies, Empress.”

  “What happened to your last master?”

  “She also died. They say it was a heart attack.”

  “Do they?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who was your last master?”

  “Empress Drell.”

  “Drell? As in Council Leader Drell?”

  “Yes, Empress. One minute she was at Czarina Arees’ dinner party, and the next she was dead.”

  Eva nodded. “Yes, I knew her. I was sorry to hear of her passing.”

  “Many were, Empress.”

  In the low light, his blood red irises seemed to turn black. She found herself examining the dark orbs, and he stood still, allowing her to inspect him for as long as she wished.

  “Does everyone on Brev have eyes like that?” She asked.

  “I don’t know, Empress. I’ve never met anyone else from Brev.”

  The temperature in the room crept up, and she put her hand to the back of her neck to wipe away the sweat that had suddenly accumulated there.

  “It’s very warm.” She took a step closer to him. The temperature ramped up another few degrees. “Do you feel that?”

  “Yes, Empress. It is quite hot in here.”

  His mouth tilted up into a sort of half smile.

  The urge to put her lips on that smile rose sharply, stealing her breath. Eva turned away and took a step towards the sitting room.

  Kissing a slave?

  She put her hand to her forehead, and in a few steps covered the distance from the kitchen to the sitting room. Dropping onto the navy colored sofa, she covered herself with her blanket, then immediately threw it off again. It was warm. Warmer than she had ever remembered it being in this house.

  “Are you okay, Empress?”

  No.

  “I’m suddenly feeling quite, uh, ill.”

  The image flared again, and she froze it in her mind. Dwelled on it. She put her hand to her lips to stop the pulsing that had begun there.

  Odd.

  “I could make supper if that’s what you wish,” Lex offered.

  She didn’t turn around. She was ashamed, and didn’t want him to see.

  “Yes, thank you Lex.”

  Trying to end the pulsating that had begun to make its way down her neck, she put her boots on the table in front of her, crossed her ankles, and turned on the news feed. They were reporting on the new slave laws, but her mind continued to torment her.

  What is it about this man that makes me want to do such things? She leaned back on the couch, her curiosity peeking. What would it be like?

  “Empress Eva.”

  She screamed.

  He took a step back, holding up both hands.

  “I’m sorry. I startled you, again.”

  She felt her face turn red with embarrassment.

  “It’s okay.” She laughed a bit louder than necessary. “Yes, I was just, uh, I didn’t hear you behind me.”

  He only smiled a bit.

  The fact that it wasn’t one of his half grins disappointed her.

  “I’ll try to walk louder next time, Empress,” he said.

  She let out a breath, smoothed her jumpsuit down. “Yes, please do that.” She patted her high bun, checking for any hairs that may have come undone.

  “Your dinner is ready. Where would you like to take it?”

  “I’ll just eat out here.”

  “Yes, Empress.”

  She flopped back on the couch, chiding herself for her ridiculous behavior.

  What’s wrong with me? She wondered. I’m jumpy, I’m having strange thoughts. When he’s around me I get flustered, and then he touches me and...

  She heard him shuffle in, and he appeared at her left with a tray of food. He placed it on the table in front of her.

  “Thank you, Lex.”

  She looked down at her tray of hot vegetables, and frowned. Tonight her typical dinner seemed plain, unexciting.

  Maybe I should eat something else tonight besides steamed vegetables? Something different.

  He reappeared again, holding a cup.

  “You seemed a little tense. I thought that a cup of wine might relax you.”

  He place the glass of Brenzinian wine next to her food tray, the bubbles at the top sparkling cheerily.

  “Thank you, Lex. That was kind of you.”

  I like kind.

  “Would you like anything else tonight, Empress?”

  “No, Lex. I’m fine.”

  “Then I’ll see to my room. Good night, Empress.”

  “Good night, Lex.”

  He shuffled away, his steps getting lost down the hall.

  Eva left the food on the table, picked up the wine and took a long drink.

  The sounds of the news feed echoed through the empty room. After a piece on Martian spies, a reporter in heavy makeup spoke about the upcoming trial of Tessa Coquett. She was the first to be brought before the High Council since the new slave laws took effect. This was Tessa’s third slave infraction. If convicted, the High Council would choose between banishment or execution.

  Eva frowned. She wondered if she too could be punished for touching Lex.

  Or wanting to.

  The news feed flashed a picture of Tessa’s face. She imagined that it was before shaking the thought from her head.

  Just to be safe, I shouldn’t let it happen again.

  The wine took hold quickly, forcing her to lay down on the sofa.

  When was the last time someone touched me? Today Nadira touched me, and my mother hugged me, but when I touched Lex, it was different. I don’t feel like fire when they touch me. Why is Lex different?

  The thought left her sad, and strangely cold.

  She pulled her blanket up to her chin, knowing in her heart that it’s warmth would never be enough.

  *****

  Lex’s room sat on the bottom floor in the back wing of the massive house. He was afforded a small kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a sitting room.

  These women in the Outer Ring really know how to make a slave feel comfortable, he thought.

  He remembered his cramped quarters at Empress Drell’s. Three men shared a small, cramped room, their only furnishings a hot plate, a standing shower and a toilet.

  Dr
ell. When he thought of her name, an uncontrollable curse came to his mind. Foods not hot enough? No food for Lex. Bed’s not made just right? No food for Lex. Something didn’t go as planned at High Council? A beating first and then no food for Lex. She was a monster. I’m glad she’s dead.

  His euphoria at her death was dampened, however, when he was placed in the Slave Market. The same porridge for three meals a day, coupled with hearing the boys cry at night made him want to throw himself in front of a hovercraft.

  He stood, walked to the kitchen, and began flipping through the menu that hovered above the black topped table.

  And then Eva came.

  Eva. I never thought I would notice a woman’s beauty, but hers is undeniable. Beautiful face, beautifully formed. She’s an odd one, jumpy, but there’s something about her. Something that makes me feel like I can’t quite breathe. Strange.

  He remembered her putting her hand up to the glass in the Slave Market, the same hand that he’d touched earlier. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched by anyone. The thought of her soft skin made his heart beat a little faster.

  She felt it too. I know it. I saw it in her eyes. There was something there. Besides the nerves, I mean.

  He selected a dish, watched the timer count down five minutes.

  He laughed at the memory of shuffling around the house so as not to scare her.

  No, he scolded himself. Don’t do it. Don’t think about her. You don’t need any distractions. I can’t waste time here. I have to get to Mahala.

  The black topped table glowed, and a dish rose from inside of it. He grabbed the plate, and devoured its contents. It was the first thing he’d had besides porridge in several days.

  With a newly filled stomach, he placed his dish back on the table top to be washed, dried and put away.

  The two windows in his sitting room were pulled shut.

  Like every other window in this house.

  He walked to them, and slid them open. The cooler air rushed in, and he took a deep lungful of it.

  With his body cooled, he walked back to his bed, pulled out a small bag from underneath, and walked to the kitchen. He opened the door beneath the black topped table, reached past the gears, pulled out the stored food inside, and stuffed them in his bag. There were a few potatoes, onions, carrots, and a few blue balls that started to jiggle when he reached for them. He thought better of it, left the balls, and closed the cabinet.

 

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