The Slave Planet

by Seven Steps

  “Of course I’ve seen aliens. Every man is an alien. But that, that was different. That was full blown alien.”

  “An alien is an alien,” Aloston said. “Whether they are from a colonized planet, or organic.” He smiled. “Wait until you see Xy.”

  Aloston ordered up a few dishes, tucked a few bottles of wine under his large arms, and went back to the sitting room while he waited for them to cook.

  “So, how do you like it here?” He asked, throwing his feet up on the table.

  “It’s fine, I guess.”

  “Not much luck cleaning, huh? This place is kind of a dump.”

  “I’m supposed to have it all done by the time my Empress gets back from Council, but now with our little party, I’m not so sure.”

  “It’ll get done. Haos and Xy will help if need be.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m just here for the wine.”

  He opened a bottle, and took a deep drink.

  “You’ll have to stock a few more bottles next month. She’s already running kind of low, and you know women and their wine.”

  Lex nodded. “Sure.”

  A knock at the door signaled the arrival of Haos and Xy.

  Aloston jumped up to get it, disappearing down the short hall between the sitting room and the door.

  “Hey!” Lex heard.

  A moment later, Aloston reappeared, along with the seven foot tall Haos. Behind them was Xy.

  Oh my, Lex thought.

  The deep green skin of his hands and face appeared smooth, and rubbery. His shock of wavy red hair fell onto his shoulders. His amber colored eyes and long, sharp canines gave him the resemblance of some sort of animal. His jumpsuit protruded in the back. Something inside shimmied slightly when he walked.

  “Hello,” Xy said, stepping forward and offering his wooden hand to Lex. “Name’s Xy.”

  “Lex.”

  “You’re new here?”

  “Yes. I just arrived yesterday.”

  Xy nodded. “Welcome. I live two houses down on your left, Haos is next door on the right. Stop by at any time. We’re home by ourselves usually.”

  “Yes,” Lex said. “I’ll do that.”

  “Hey, that’s some red hair you got there.”

  Lex touched it. “I was about to say the same thing about yours.”

  Xy smiled, his long incisors keeping his top and bottom rows of sharp teeth apart. “Yeah, we’re not from around here. At least, that’s what we’re told.”

  Aloston resumed his place on the couch, while Haos squatted in the middle of the room. Small branches grew off his back and, in a few moments, his entire back had formed a chair, which he sat in.

  “Sorry,” Haos said. “I tend to shed on the furniture.” He stretched out his stumped legs in front of him. “Besides, this is much more comfortable.”

  Lex nodded. The two seemed nice enough.

  “What’s for lunch?” Xy asked. He unzipped his jumpsuit to the waist and tied the sleeves together in front of him. Two, white wings stretched out from his back. He flapped them twice, before settling them behind him again as he sat on the couch next to Aloston.

  “Flexicord stew.”

  Haos sat up in his self-made chair and rubbed where Lex assumed his stomach was. “My favorite.”

  “So, you look like you could use some help around here, Lex,” Xy said, running a finger along the table and examining it. “Don’t you worry. Me and Haos will help. We’ll have this place cleaned up in no time.”

  “Oh, don’t worry too much about Lex,” Aloston said. “He’s leaving soon.”

  “Where are you going Lex?” Haos asked.

  Lex cleared his throat. “Mahala.”

  Haos gasped. “The free slave place? No, you can’t.” Brown specs floated off of him and to the ground. “The Enforcers will catch you and execute you.”

  “Not if I’m careful.”

  “But what if you’re not? What if something happens? No, you can’t go.” Haos’ leaves shook as he put his head in his hands.

  “Calm down Haos!” Xy said. “Sorry, he’s a bit emotional. Lex, why would you want to leave this place? It’s nice here. No one bothers you as long as you do your work.”

  “Don’t you want to leave? Don’t you want to be free?”

  “No,” Xy said. “I’m fine staying here. It’s our place.”

  “Our place? We don’t have a place. We’re slaves.”

  “It’s our place to stay, to atone for what our ancestors did.”

  “Our ancestors didn’t do anything. We’re not even from this planet.”

  Xy’s red eyebrows turned down in confusion.

  “You can’t believe everything they tell you when you’re wiped,” Lex said. “All of that ‘men should atone for their past’ stuff is nonsense, propaganda. We were sold here from another planet, maybe even illegally. I may only have been here a while, but I can tell you this. I’m not staying.”

  Xy looked at Haos, who had stopped crying to stare at Lex.

  “I don’t understand,” Haos said. “We’re slaves. We’re supposed to be here. We’re supposed to serve. It’s what we were born to do.”

  “It’s what the women want you to do. But there is another way. You can be free. You can go home.”

  “Home?” Xy asked. “Home.”

  “Yes. Back to your planet. Back to your family.”

  “Family?” Xy looked at Haos, then back at Lex. “I have to go. I can’t stay here and listen to this.”

  “Xy, wait!” Aloston jumped up as Xy began to flap his wings frantically.

  “I can’t listen to this. Home, family. My home is here. I am a slave. My home is here.”

  He thrust his wings down, shot towards the ceiling, slammed his head against the chandelier, and came crashing back down to the carpet.

  “Oh for Venus sake,” Aloston ran to him. “Xy. Xy are you alright?”

  Haos absorbed his chair into his back, then moved to Xy, extending his wooden arms to turn him over.

  “Xy?” Haos said. “Xy, can you hear me?”

  Xy moaned.

  “I’d better get him home,” Haos said.

  Aloston and Lex nodded.

  “Thank you for having us over for lunch.” He extended his stump to Lex. Lex waited for it to turn back into a hand before he shook it. “We’ll meet again. Maybe then we can talk more about home. Family.”

  Lex nodded, watched as Haos turned one of his arms into a small chair. Aloston helped hoist Xy into it before the two slaves departed.

  “Crazy,” Lex said, closing the door behind them.

  “Yup. Though not surprising,” Aloston said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Xy has been wiped four times.”

  “Four times? How long has he been here?”

  “Four years. The wipes last for a while, but then he remembers, goes nuts, and tries to fly home. His master likes him, so she keeps taking him back and having him wiped again. But something tells me that men like Xy never really forget.”

  “That can’t be healthy.”

  “Probably not. It looks like he’ll need another cleaning after today.”

  Aloston opened the door. “Well, I guess the party is broken up.”

  Lex was sorry to see him go. He’d grown fond of the yellow eyed man.

  “Can’t you stay for a few more minutes?” Lex asked.

  “I’d better get back before they send an Enforcer party after me.” He shook Lex’s hand. “If you ever get to Beta, look me up. I can help you get to where you need to be.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “Goodbye, Lex.”

  .

  Chapter 18

  Though it was barely afternoon, The Temple of the Mother Goddess Venus was filled. The High Priestess, a robe draped woman named Safra, walked among the rows of padded benches, sitting among the worshippers, talking to them in hushed tones, taking the time to hug them or hold their hand.

  Last n
ight’s murders touched the entire planet, forcing the normally hardened women to recognize their own vulnerability, and to run to their golden deity and planet’s namesake, Venus. A single woman with the four faces of the Founding Mothers, Mother Goddess Venus wore a flowing robe that covered her from throat to feet. Ancient words were written around the collar and up the sleeves.

  Each Habitat housed a temple, the largest being in Alpha. There was one way of worship throughout the planet. Most women hat at least a form of faith and all held true to what was called The Five Truths:

  First, the Mother Goddess Venus sent four pieces of herself, the Founding Mothers, to create a utopia on Venus.

  Second, early on men tried to thwart the Mother Goddess’s will and destroy the utopia, and, therefore, would be punished with eternal servitude.

  Third, birth was a holy ritual in which the Mother Goddess gave a piece of herself to a woman. In essence, all women carried with them a piece of the Goddess.

  Fourth, all women were one and equal in the eyes of the Mother Goddess.

  Fifth, at death, women would join with the Mother Goddess and, if they were worthy, be sent to far reaches of the universe to create utopia’s anew. Men, if they served their master’s well, could also join with the Mother Goddess in death, joining with the skin of the palms of her hands so that they could serve her throughout eternity.

  Nadira’s mother brought her to the Temple once a month to observe Utopia’s Spring, a ritual that replayed the day the Founding Mother’s set foot on the planet. Once a year, the Temple sponsored the Festival of the Goddess in Habitat Beta, a special time to praise the Mother Goddess for her blessings.

  Nadira sat in the back row of the temple, eyes closed, mind in prayer. She asked the Mother Goddess for strength, and though she knew it was wrong, she begged for Kiln’s safe return.

  She felt the priestess sit next to her, and place an arm around her shoulders.

  “It will be alright,” she whispered. “Whatever you ask, she will hear you.”

  “Whatever I ask, Priestess?” Nadira asked.

  The Priestess nodded. “Whatever you ask.”

  “Even if it is against her will?”

  “She knows your heart child.” The priestess turned her eyes to the golden statue. “Perhaps she will bend her will for you, if you trust and believe.”

  Hoping the Priestess was right, Nadira ended her prayer, and walked out of the Temple, determination gleaming in her eye.

  Her sights were set on the Hall of Judgment. Shaped like a trapezoid turned on its head, the prison boasted two, long, horizontal windows along the top, installed so that the women from below could watch the executions if they wished. Beneath the Hall of Judgment were the Graves, a burial place for the ashes of men.

  She passed High Council, still being restored after the fires, and climbed the stairs to the Hall of Judgment.

  A hallway stretched between the dirty white reception desk and the door. Along the walls of the hallway was a mural of Gerry Forrester, one of the Founding Mothers and the very first Enforcer.

  Short, stocky, and with a now infamous baldhead, Gerry’s face was painted in a snarl. Behind her were dozens of Enforcer barracks. Four lines of Enforcers stood in front of the barracks at attention. Behind the barracks was the orange outline of planet Venus.

  Five hundred years after Mary Lou’s famous council hearing, most men did not have the option to sell themselves into slavery. They were born into it. If a father’s labor did not pay off his debt – which it normally didn’t - his sons would have to work off the debt after his death. It was around this time that men began to disappear. Some stole ships and ran off-world. Some ran into the wild forest of Beta. Some committed suicide, seeing death as a better alternative to working in the mines, or being trapped in a Mating House. But, wherever they went, if a slave needed to be tracked down, Gerry Forrester was the woman to call.

  With a security expert for a mother, and a Mater for a father, she entered into the security ranks at the tender age of twenty. Ten years later, she was promoted to Head of Security. She wasted no time in building her legacy. Under her orders, and with the support of High Council, the women of Habitat three were given a choice, relocate or join Gerry’s security team. Most of them left. For the ones who chose to stay behind, the Habitat was changed into a military grade training camp. The women were stripped of all private housing, instead forced to sleep in barracks. Twelve hour training cycles were implemented. The women bulked up. The uniforms were changed to all black, with Kevlar vest. The Habitat was renamed Habitat Omega. The women became Enforcers.

  At the age of eighty-five, in the midst of chasing an escaping slave off-world, the engine to Gerry’s ship caught fire. She, and the two other Enforcers trapped on the ship, were burned alive.

  In a show of respect and solidarity, Gerry’s Enforcers shaved their heads, beginning a long tradition.

  At the end of the hallway, an Enforcer sat behind an oval desk, chuckling at something on her touch screen. The woman did not look up when Nadira approached.

  To the left, a slave struggled as he was dragged towards the elevator by two Enforcers. He kicked and screamed in their grasp.

  “Let me go! I wasn’t doing anything! Let me go!”

  One of his kicks connected with the back of an Enforcer’s knee, dropping the large woman onto her hands.

  Her partner let go of the man, took out her blaster, and fired. The man’s head was turned into a stump, blood and gore splashing onto the white floor.

  Nadira’s eyes went wide with shock. She put her hand to her heart, hoping to still it. Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed it harshly.

  They killed him. They just killed him.

  She held onto the Enforcer’s desk for support. She felt her head spin, felt as if she would faint right there in the middle of the lobby.

  “Clean up,” one of the shooters called out.

  The woman behind the desk spoke into her wrist. “We need a cleanup and comm in the main lobby.”

  Nadira looked around the lobby for help.

  Someone do something. That man was just murdered. Someone say something.

  An older woman sitting in a comfortable chair near the front door glanced up from her touch screen, briefly noted the body, shook her head, and looked back down.

  The Enforcers left the bloodied remains in the middle of the floor, and walked off mentioning something about lunch.

  Nadira breathed through her mouth, trying to stay conscious.

  The confidence that she’d entered with had now fled, gone along with the unarmed man’s life.

  A second man in a dirty, grey jumpsuit entered with a large, wheeled bin and a bucket. He hoisted the body with a grunt, throwing it in the bin. He then picked up the large chunks with a gloved hand. Finally, he took out a mop and began to mop up the victims remains, humming to himself as if he didn’t just clean his brother off the floor.

  The Enforcer behind the desk finally noticed her. She smiled. “Ah, Empress. May your mother be well. Can I help you?”

  Nadira looked at the woman wide eyed, then back at the blood that was quickly disappearing from the floor.

  “Empress, can I help you?” the Enforcer repeated.

  “Who was that man?” Nadira asked. “The man who was just shot, who was that man?”

  “I don’t know Empress. He hadn’t been processed yet.”

  “Aren’t you going to do something? Comm his Empress? Maybe she was looking for him.”

  “Empress, I can assure you that everything is under control. Now, what can I help you with today?”

  Nadira looked at the Enforcer’s cold, green eyes. She saw no sympathy, no concern.

  She took a step back. She then steeled her spirit, and stepped forward again.

  “I am looking for information on a slave that was brought in yesterday. His name is Kiln.”

  “Is he your slave?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what is your name
?”

  “Nadira Marie.”

  The Enforcer set aside the touch screen she’d been laughing at and tapped on a screen that was embedded in the desk.

  “Prime Servant Kiln?”

  “Yes.”

  “He is in special holdings. We have strict orders to only allow Czarina Arees, Empress Chee, and Officer Bragnia inside. His execution has been set for two days from today.”

  Nadira gasped. The same date as the elections.

  “I’m his master. Is there any way I can see him?”

  “I’m afraid not, Empress. Not without a special clearance from those three.”

  Nadira sniffed back tears, and nodded. “Thank you for your help.”

  Trying not to cry in defeat, Nadira looked back at where the dead man once laid. The spot was cleaned. There was no sign that there had been a struggle or a murder here. No sign that he’d been there at all.

  She rushed from the hall, out into the street, and took in a breath of recycled air.

  The Mother Goddess heard my blasphemous prayer. Now she’s punishing me for saying it. Oh, what do I do?

  Her wrist comm vibrated, momentarily shaking her from her misery.

  The small screen flashed. She moved to the edge of the sidewalk, and put it to her mouth.

  “Accept comm,” she said.

  The voice came through her ear. “Empress Nadira?”

  “Yes?”

  “May your mother be well. My name is Headmaster Shira, I am in charge of the school that Kiln has been volunteering in. Kiln did not come in today.”

  Shira paused.

  Nadira looked at the Hall of Judgment. She wondered how she would explain things to this woman.

  “Kiln is not available right now,” she said. “He won’t be in for quite a few days.”

  “Thank you for letting me know.”

  The building seemed to mock her. The only thing between her and Kiln was a wall. She wanted to tear it down brick by brick.

  “Kiln’s been accused of being a part of the slave riot,” she blurted out. “He’s being held at the Hall of Judgment.”

  “Oh!”

  “He’s innocent. He didn’t do what they’re accusing him of.”

  “Of course not, Empress.” She paused. “Although, sometimes slaves do things that we don’t understand. It’s their low minds. They can’t work things out like us. But that’s no reflection on you or anyone else. It’s their own short comings.”