by Shelly Crane
He gave me a sly grin. “Whatcha need?”
“Well, my boss told me I have to sell all these oxygen and gravity tabs by the end of the week. Think you can help me out? Know anybody?”
“Oh, yeah! I got you covered, man! I got buddies from school who never finished who are looking for tablets all the time.” His look turned somber. Jackpot. “I mean, they’re stand-up guys, they just hit a run of bad luck. You’re all right helping my buddies, right?”
“Well,” I muttered and shuffled my feet for good measure, “I don’t know. I know it’s illegal to sell to people without a diploma.” I mean, not like what we’re doing right now or anything…
“Man, I wouldn’t ask, but you said you needed to get rid of it. We’ll both be helping each other out.” I hissed through my teeth. He watched. “Come on, man.”
“All right. You got a deal. But I need all the money for the tablets up front.”
“I’ll get it all worked out. Thanks, man. Any way you’re looking for a constant buyer? I’m sure they would be more than willing to be set up for something like that.”
Bingo.
I smiled. “I think we can work something out.”
He pulled out his handheld and worked out the deal right in front of me, just the way I liked it. I sold him the ring, met his buddies, gave them the goods, worked out the next shipment, and was back at the ship within an hour. I pulled my bed out of the wall and crashed onto it. I was as beat as I could remember being.
My boss, Havard, was working me like I imagined proprietors worked the slaves. But I wasn’t a slave. He needed to back off. I earned my keep.
I laid my forehead against the pillow and sighed just as a bang resounded in the closet outside my room. This was a small ship, compared to other ships. If someone was going to hide, there weren’t too many places to. I sighed, pissed and ticked off that my opportunity for sleep had been interrupted. Havard used to provide sleep induction for us, but once the Elites caught on—like they do everything—it became so expensive that he said we had to catch zzz’s the old-fashioned way. But it made for a long night and frankly wasted time when, with sleep induction, I could get the sleep needed in half the time, no tossing and turning, no waiting to fall out, just conk—you’re gone.
I scurried quietly over, yanking the double doors open to reveal…a girl.
No—a slave.
I could tell she was a slave because she was so thin. And she’d been beaten; I could tell from the blood on the back of her shirt. All my protective instincts rushed to the surface all at once, though I didn’t know why. She was a slave, she obviously belonged to someone, but she was so…freaking striking. All that red hair, gray eyes, white skin and—
Maxton, stop.
“What are you doing here?” was the only thing my mouth could produce, gruffly.
“I…” she tried. She’d been crying. “I thought the ship was leaving in the morning. I didn’t think I’d see anyone until it was already—”
“The ship does leave in the morning.”
She gulped. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but please, just don’t say anything until we’re already out to space at least.” Her eyes begged. “Please.”
“You’re running away from your proprietor.” Her eyes said ‘yes’, but she stayed silent. “That’s a felony. You’ll go to confinement for that.”
“Hence the not telling anyone until we’re out to space.” She shook her head, her eyes going cold and hard. “Ten years is long enough. I think my debt is paid.”
I almost gasped. Almost. Ten years. This girl was seventeen, eighteen maybe, nineteen at the most. She’d spent the majority of her life as a slave. I couldn’t imagine it. I kept my face passive. “Come back to my room before someone sees you. You can stay there until we dock in Zone 8 tomorrow. Then you can be on your way.”
I’d never seen someone look at me with such gratitude before, but I did work on the black market. I didn’t have much time or opportunity for girls. This one had red hair that was long and a little curly, a little wild maybe, a thin body that indicated she didn’t get to indulge on this planet, her head came to my nose, her gray eyes were wide and searching me, her skin was pale and gulp-inducing to look at it. So I tried not to look.
“Thank you.”
I nodded. I told her to stay and knew she would. I went and got some dinner for us both, which was interesting. I told the cook I was really hungry because Havard had worked me too hard that day and I had skipped lunch. He must have bought it.
When I brought the food back and laid it out on my bed, the girl acted like it was foreign to her, like she’d never seen it before.
I chuckled. “Have you never seen a piece of bacon?”
“No,” she whispered. “What is it?”
“Are you serious?”
“Very.”
I looked at her as she looked at the meat. “Try it.” Her eyes ticked up to mine. “Go on.” She picked up the bacon first and took a bite so tentative it was pathetic. But she moaned and that moan caused me to gulp as it rippled through my body. She looked at the other food on the plate and then up at me.
“What’s this?”
“You’ve never had pancakes before either?”
“All I’ve ever had was bread and vegetables. Green beans mostly.”
I grimaced. She was from the stacks. “Really?” She didn’t answer. Must have known it was rhetorical. “It’s the most delicious thing on that plate. Eat up. I can’t wait to watch you take a bite.” I grinned.
But she wasn’t worried about me a lick. She ate that whole plate like it was her last meal, or her first, depending on how you looked at it, softly moaning and groaning the entire time. She licked the syrup off her thumb when she was done and I wondered for a second if she was a spy. Had Havard sent her here to see if I’d let a stowaway stay?
I watched her and knew that wasn’t true when she turned with the plate, looking for a proper place to set it…like a good little slave. The blood on the back of her shirt was a reminder to me that this wasn’t some game, and she wasn’t just some girl.
She was a convict now, no matter how much I wanted to deny it.
But could I really turn her in, knowing that I’d be sending her to confinement?
“So I’ll just stay here until we dock and then sneak out. You don’t have to worry about me. That was enough food to feed me for days,” she said softly and shrugged both her shoulders. “Thank you.”
“We should do something about that.” I jutted my chin toward her back, making her flush. I knew she would, but there was no delicate way to bring it up. “There’s a Med Kit in the hall—”
“No. You’ve done enough. I’ll worry about it later. I’m sure you have things you’re supposed to be doing.”
“Here then,” I insisted and pulled one of my black shirts from the bag I always took with me on trips. “At least put this on. You’ll be less conspicuous.”
Her eyes stayed on mine for a few long seconds before she took it. I turned without her having to ask me to. I heard the rustling of her clothes and was embarrassed to say my nineteen-year-old neck was turning red under my collar thinking about what she might look like under my shirt. I was a busy guy, never had much time for girls. But even if I did have time for them, I couldn’t have done much with one anyway because, without a license, you weren’t allowed to engage in relations that were…physical in nature. Unless you got wedded and no, sir, no thank you. Most business men got a license the first chunk of silver they got once they turned seventeen, but I thought with more than my pants.
Our society thought that cutting our foul language, drugs, physical relations—unless you paid a fee to the government of course—and pretty much everything else unless you paid your taxes with the threat of confinement or the mines over your head at all times—that this would somehow make our society better, more civilized, more organized, less disease-ridden. Better than the Earth that we’d destroyed.
All it had done wa
s make the black market sky rocket, the rich Elitists who could afford their taxes got richer, and the rest of us slummed by, by the skin of our perfectly manicured teeth, with government-issued toothpaste, of course.
You were either an Elite or you were poor. There was no “official” middle class. The middle class were the business-men, like Havard, and even they only got by because they broke the law and were always on the cusp of getting caught. So really, who wanted to be them?
The tap on my shoulder made me turn slowly. My shirt was way too big on her, but she was tucking it into her tight black pants. They were men’s pants, probably her proprietor’s discards, but wow if she didn’t make them look good right then.
“This’ll work. Thank you, Maxton.”
My eyebrows lifted. “You got some mind powers I don’t know about?”
She gave me a funny look, but added a small smile. That smile… Holy. Wow. “You gave me your shirt. Unless you’re also a slave, you have your own clothes.”
I absentmindedly reached back to rub the tag with my name in my shirt. “That’s right. Sorry. And what’s your name?”
“You want to know my name?” she barely whispered.
I grinned. “It’s only fair.”
She took a breath, looking at my mouth for a moment. I wondered when was the last time anyone had smiled at her.
“Sophelia.” She laughed once, but it was more of sadness than anything funny. “I haven’t said my name in years.”
That rocked me to my core. “What did your proprietor call you?” And I immediately regretted that question.
She smiled, but again it was the opposite of her actual emotion. “You don’t want to know.”
I gulped, knowing I needed to get away from her.
Right now.
“Hey, I’m sure you’re tired. Why don’t you take a nap or something while I go get my work done? When you wake up, we’ll be there.”
She must have noticed the off change in my tone, but just looked at me before going to my bed. “Okay.” She lay down, facing the wall, and sighed so deeply. “A bed,” I heard her mutter. “Wow, I’d forgotten.”
I left without another word.
I leaned against the wall outside my room, the back of my head to the wall, and stayed there for a minute. A couple of Havard’s regulars walked by, but I said nothing to them. He always had workers here and there, but I was his right hand and everybody knew it.
I went up to the top floor, pressed my thumb to the scanner, and went inside. Havard used the older technology. He said it was cheap and gave the illusion of safety. If someone was dumb enough to crack through his security, then they’d meet their maker sooner rather than later for being than dumb.
“Havard!” I called.
“Get in here, boy. Maybe we want to postpone our shipment for a day.”
“What?” I said, the shock evident in my voice. There was no reason I could think of that Havard would make his shipments late. None. Except silver.
“A slave escaped.”
I schooled my face. I was good at that. I crossed my arms. “So? Slaves escape sometimes. Who cares?”
“Someone apparently. This slave is worth a pretty silver.” He flipped the screen hanging over his desk around so I could see it. There she was. The redheaded beauty. Next to her face was her name, Sophelia A3, and then a number I never thought I’d see in my lifetime.
I gulped. “Why is she worth so much?”
“Why does it matter? I bet if we stayed a night longer, was a little late on our shipments, we could find her. I’ll split the finder’s fee with you.”
That silver…would change my life, would change so much for me. Could I really let one conversation with this girl take away everything I’ve worked my whole life for?
I steeled my back and face, thought about that girl who did mean something to me back home. This girl on this ship meant nothing to me, but that girl back home was my life. I barely knew her anymore because I’d been gone so long, but she was everything and I needed this money to save her. I remembered that as I uttered my next words and condemned the girl in my room to hell.
“Funny this should pop up on your screen, Havard.” I grinned my best evil grin for his benefit, so he wouldn’t think anything was fishy. “I was just coming to find you.”
He grinned back, not knowing why, but knowing he was about to make some silver. “Why was that?”
“The girl?” I nodded toward the picture. “She stowed away on the ship.” I leaned in with my knuckles on his desk. “She’s in my room, right now.”
“You’re joking,” he barked.
“About silver? Never.”
He leaned back and smiled before jumping up from his seat. “Let’s go, crook.”
I hated when he called me that. He thought it was funny, but it wasn’t.
When I opened the door to my room, she knew as soon as she turned over and saw Havard that I had betrayed her. I expected her to be angry, but it was like the fight was gone right out of her. She looked me dead in the eye as Havard took her arm.
“I should have known that the last decent man on this planet was my father. And he died a long time ago.” Havard jerked her harder and she looked over her shoulder once more. “You should have just taken me to processing yourself, kept all that silver instead of splitting it with him.”
“Shut up, you,” Havard growled and took her away.
Her father had died, no doubt that was why she was a slave—she couldn’t pay her family’s taxes. When my father died, I took up a life of crime on the black market to pay my family’s. She wasn’t so lucky.
I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever felt so sick to my stomach, so disgusted with myself. My mother would be ashamed.
Chapter Three
mag·net·ism - a physical phenomenon produced by the motion of electric charge, resulting in attractive and repulsive forces between objects.
Sophelia
The second the man took me to his quarters, I knew I wasn’t going to processing. Not directly, anyway. I probably had a timeline for when I had to be returned for the silver to be paid and he was going to make good use of that, I was sure.
“Now, that’s better, isn’t it?”
I looked at him, inching to the wall, knowing that this day would change my life. Could I really blame Maxton for what he’d done? I was sure there was a bounty on my head and he didn’t know me at all. But the way he had acted with me, treated me so…humanely. I thought for once in my life that I might actually have met someone who had a soul in their chest. But I was wrong again.
This really was a soulless planet.
“What’s your name, girl?” he asked, his eyes running over me.
“Grub,” I growled at him and balled up my fists, ready to fight if it came to it.
“Ooooh,” he said excitedly and moved to the side a bit, tilting his head and grinning like I would imagine Hook would have grinned in story of Peter Pan my mother used to read to me. I thought about that story almost every night. It was the only thing that kept me sane as I slept on that metal floor with nothing but a blanket. “You’re going to be a feisty one, poppet.”
Bile rose in my mouth, and I thought I might actually throw up the pancakes that Maxton had fed me not long ago if this guy didn’t stop.
“If you want to try, then go ahead. I’m already a convict. I’m going to confinement anyway. Assault won’t get me anymore punishment.”
He laughed, rubbing the side of his head. “Delightful little grub you are.” I gritted my teeth. “Though I like this game, we don’t have all day to play.” His smile of perfect teeth was unnerving enough to make me begin to sweat. My fists readied for war as he stepped closer and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be gentle whereas the sentries won’t. See, I’m doing you a favor. Breaking you in before you go there and—”
“What?” I breathed. It couldn’t be true. That couldn’t be what they were doing to them there. A life in confinement and…
He gave me a placid but solid look, his lips pursed in sympathy, his brow raised slightly. “Don’t be so naïve, poppet. You’ll never survive this planet.” His hand curved up and went to my neck. “But I can help you with that.”
Wow, he was shoveling the zelephant dung so fast I couldn’t keep up. “Get off me.”
“Now, now—”
“Off. Me.”
His other hand moved to my forearm and he squeezed gently. “I want to help you. You help me and I’ll help you.”
“Then let me go and don’t turn me in to processing.”
He sucked air through his teeth as his fingers slid under my shirt collar that was already two sizes too big for me, making the fabric slide down my shoulder, changing his course to catch a button or two with his fingers. “That I just can’t do, poppet.”
I punched his gut with everything I had in me. He doubled over and made the usual awful sounds someone made when their insides have been pulverized by a bony fist. I turned to run, but he managed to grip my arm.
“You really are naïve if you thought it was going to be that easy.” He stood slowly, but as he did his hand swung up and let me have it across my cheek, right on the cheekbone. “I was trying to be nice about it, but this isn’t a negotiation. You are a slave and I am a licensed business owner who has caught you, a stowaway on my ship, and you will pay me some restitution. By your willingness or by force.”
His grip on my arm tightened and he started to drag me further into the room, but someone came in, the double doors opening with a hiss as they separated and revealed someone I hadn’t seen before. He took in the scene and stopped abruptly.
“Um…Havard, sir,” he swallowed, his eyes jumping from me to Havard, to Havard’s hand wrapped around my arm, “there was a problem with the docking schedule. They said you needed to resubmit your request to change the docking time.”
Havard huffed. “Have Maxton do it. I’m…busy.”
The guy’s eyes got wide. “They said it had to be you. You know the protocol.”
“Yes, yes, I know protocol,” Havard grumbled. He dragged me roughly over to the desk by his bed, to where there was already a pair of gold manacles there.