by Leslie Chase
I gritted my teeth. My time as a slave in the Empire had left me with my own desire for revenge. That didn’t mean I wanted random humans to suffer for the actions of those who’d harmed me.
Not much I can do to save her, I thought, trying to put the matter out of my mind. By the time an ASP cruiser got here, she’d be long gone.
The procession soon vanished into the station and I watched, trying to glean what information I could from the dock. There wasn’t much to see. I could take down the names and descriptions of the ships, but that was all.
“So your wonderful plan was to sit here and watch nothing happening?” The AI sounded almost smug, and I growled at it.
“I’ve gotten enough information to help the Patrol shut down more than this one port,” I said. “And you were perfectly happy waiting out in space.”
“That was considerably more sensible,” the AI replied, sounding put out. “For a start, out there we could run away if someone spotted us. In here we don’t have that luxury.”
That was a fair point, though I didn’t like to admit it. My hyperdrive wouldn’t work this close to the mass of the comet and getting out of the dock would take us through the defenses of not just the base itself but the ships as well. With the element of surprise, we might make it out. Might.
But that was if we got spotted, which seemed unlikely. The crew of the Firebearer didn’t seem the type to make a thorough inspection of their hull, and no one else would know that I didn’t belong.
That gave me an idea. I straightened in my seat, grinning as I thought about it. Yes. That will work, I told myself, standing and stretching.
“Oh dear, I know that look,” the Shadow’s AI said as I walked to my tiny living area and opened my supply locker. “You’re coming up with an even worse plan, aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer, strapping my weapons belt on and checking my equipment. Pulling on my heaviest fur cloak, I walked to the airlock. The AI made a strangling sound of protest. Given that it didn’t breathe, I wondered where it had learned that.
“Don’t worry, this is perfectly safe,” I said, stretching the truth a little. “There were no checks for the people getting off the Firebearer, were there? As far as anyone else knows, I’ll just be one of the crew.”
“Unless someone recognizes you,” the AI pointed out. “You’re a member of the Patrol, after all. Or they could just ask your ‘crewmates’ about you.”
“We’re a long way from anyone who’d know my face,” I said. “And I’ll stay out of conversation as much as I can. Just think of the intelligence I can bring back.”
“I’m wondering where you left your intelligence,” the AI retorted, then sighed. “If you’re set on this foolish course, Athazar, take care.”
“I didn’t think you cared,” I said, stepping into the airlock and cycling it.
“I don’t.” The AI sounded resigned. “But I can’t get out of here without you. So, come back safely, for my sake if not yours.”
“I’ll keep in touch over the communicator,” I promised, not that there was anything the Shadow could do for me if I got in trouble. “You keep an eye on the port and let me know if anything here changes.”
The air outside hit me like a wall of cold, and I shivered despite my cloak. Back home my people had rarely seen snow or ice and I wasn’t evolved for it, but I could manage. I’d been through harsh training to learn to cope with environments my species wasn’t naturally inclined to deal with.
The memory of my training threatened to rise up into my conscious mind and I forced it down ruthlessly. I couldn’t afford that, couldn’t afford to remember the horrors Tlaxanna had put me through to turn me into the perfect slave-soldier. Not here, and not now.
Preferably never.
Wrapping the heavy cloak around me I marched towards the door the slaves had been herded through. Beyond it was a corridor, the walls carved from ice, metal supports keeping up the ceiling and cabling running along the walls. A primitive space station but a functional one, and cheap to build out here where every ounce of material had to be shipped in specially.
The corridor was empty, and I didn’t meet another soul until I reached a plaza at the far end. This was more like a space station, full of people coming and going. I’d clearly come at a busy time, and people of all species and rank mixed and mingled. Wealthy merchants with bodyguards pushed their way through the crowd while the desperately poor begged them for scraps.
“Here for a bargain, your worship?” someone said, plucking at my shoulder. I shrugged off the hand, glancing aside at the spindly figure beside me. “I know where you can find the best slaves.”
“Don’t listen to him, sir,” another voice interrupted. “He don’t know anything. Me, I can point you in the right direction. Honest Eztan has slaves for every budget.”
I growled at the pair of them. Two small, six-limbed creatures, alike enough to be twins, scuttled back from my anger. Good. I didn’t need the attention — and they hardly looked like the kind of people who would know the secrets I was looking for. The traders they were touting for would sell dregs to the mining companies or cheap brothels, not to the big players I wanted to hurt.
I didn’t need to meet the local traders, I needed the powerful buyers, the people who would trade the slaves on. Without them, the rest of the slave trade would wither and die.
As long as there were wealthy and powerful people willing to pay for slaves, the trade would never be stamped out. The ASP didn’t have the authority to deal with them, we were only empowered to deal with the raiders themselves. I had higher targets in mind, though, and if I had to deal with them myself, then so be it.
I pushed through the crowd, looking for the wealthier patrons. Those who could afford guards were a good start, and I kept my eyes open for those wearing Imperial fashion. Those would be the ones with the contacts I needed.
Everyone who met that description was headed in the same direction, so I followed along with the crowd. There was an air of anticipation running through the crowd, and it was hard to avoid getting caught up in it.
“Gentlefolk, please,” a voice called from ahead. “The auction is about to begin.”
An auction? That explained the hurry with which the crew of the Firebearer had offloaded their slaves. They’d clearly arrived just in time, and that suited me. It also explained what the richer buyers were doing here, and that meant it was where I needed to be. Hoping that they’d let me in, I mixed in with the crowd and let myself be carried along as though I knew where I was going. Eventually we all made our way into a large hall.
This space had been set up with comfort in mind. Warm air circulated, and curtains hid the icy walls. Along the far wall was a stage, and an auctioneer was setting up his podium beside it.
The small crowd of buyers mingled, and I felt my claws extend as I looked at them. This was the hardest part of the plan, and one I hadn’t thought about. I would have to mingle with these scum if I wanted to learn anything, and do it without letting them guess what I thought of them.
Grabbing a glass of something that looked alcoholic I tried to get my emotions under control. A couple of Feriden looked up at me and giggled. It sounded like they’d already had rather more of the free booze than was sensible, which suited me.
“Someone else to bid on these worthless workers, eh?” one asked me. “You should have stayed on your ship. We all should have, yes? These worthless backwater traders keep promising something special, but never deliver.”
I tried a smile, hoping it didn’t look too much like the threat display it was. “Where else are we going to go, though? These systems are hard work, now the Patrol is looking over our shoulders.”
Both of the little furry Feriden shrugged and shivered. “It’s true, yes. I don’t worry about the ASP myself, but the raiders… so many taken down lately, yes. No one bringing the good slaves to market. Might have to get out of this sector if that keeps up.”
No, you won’t get to just move on
, I thought. It was good news that they were feeling the pressure, but I didn’t just want the slave traders pushed into another sector. I wanted them to suffer, to lose their businesses as I’d lost my home.
But even more than that, I wanted their clients to suffer. They were the ones who made this trade in misery profitable and they were the ones on whom I wanted my revenge. Maybe the Feriden could help me, even if they wouldn’t know it.
“If you’re going to get out of the business around here, you could recommend me to your clients,” I suggested, full of false cheer. “I’ll pay well for a good introduction if you know anyone worth selling to.”
The two of them exchanged looks and hissed something that my universal translator couldn’t keep up with. Laughter followed. Some joke I couldn’t catch, probably about me.
My jaw tightened as I listened, but I kept myself from reacting. When the pair turned back to me, they nodded. “Maybe we can help each other, stranger. But the auction is about to begin: we’ll see how much money you have left after the bidding’s over, yes?”
I nodded, smiling. That would be perfect — I didn’t intend to make any purchases, and the Feriden would want to replenish their bank accounts.
“I’m Athazar,” I offered my hand, instantly regretting giving my real name. The odds of them knowing me were slim, but it was a foolish risk to take.
“Frill,” one answered, then pointed to his companion. “Tchena. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
A bell sounded from the stage and a hush fell over the small crowd. The time for small talk had passed and it was time for the main event. Not something that interested me much, of course. I wasn’t about to buy any slaves, but all the people I’d want to talk to had their attention on the stage.
I turned to look myself, not wanting to stand out. The auctioneer was grinning at us from the stage. “Distinguished guests of Ice Harbor Callidan, welcome to the third market. Here we have slaves to delight every taste, from hard-working miners to strong soldiers, from educated clerks to delicate flowers that will brighten your day.”
A tall and spindly creature of a species I didn’t know, the auctioneer certainly had a touch of showmanship. I’d seen worse at the great slave markets, back in my own days as a slave. It was hard not to remember those days now, though my own experience on the block had been very different.
I’d been sold under the baking sun, for one thing. Every detail of that day was still there. The moment I’d been dragged away from my family and pushed up onto the block. The look on my mother’s face as she told me to do as they said, to cooperate, to survive.
The smiling face of Princess Tlaxanna as she bought me, separating me from my family forever. I’d not been able to trust a human since that day, and just the memory of her smile made me shudder, the scars she’d left on my body aching with remembered pain.
I survived alright, mother, I thought, trying to keep my feelings under control. For years I hadn’t let myself acknowledge them, and now they threatened to send me into a killing fury whenever I let them out.
“… Prize specimens,” the auctioneer announced joyfully, and I realized I’d been wrapped up enough in my memories to miss several sales. Cochodren guards pulled a miserable-looking group from the stage by their chains, into the waiting hands of a pack of buyers.
My hands itched at the sight of that, but I kept my cool. It wasn’t easy, but trying to save everyone would only get me killed.
More cochodren led in the next batch. A chain linked a dozen slaves as they shuffled out, surrounded by their guards.
They were a mix of different species, and none looked like the prize specimens the auctioneer was trying to sell them as. I had to admire his optimism as he tried to describe a half-starved sliven as a hard worker. That one looked like he’d been through a half-dozen auctions already, and no one wanted him.
But as the guards led him aside, I saw the slave behind him and froze. The human female I’d seen earlier stumbled out onto the stage, her eyes wide with shock. Before I’d only seen her from behind. Now that I could see her properly, she was beautiful. One look at those deep green eyes was enough to knock me off balance. Her dark hair framed a heart-shaped face that I could scarcely look away from. And the curves of her shivering body were too appealing for me to ignore.
She looked afraid and angry, cold and hungry. My heart cried out for her, and I took a step forward before I could even think.
A human? Really? I had more than enough reason to hate her kind, and the way my body reacted was a shock. I barely controlled myself, fighting down my instinct to go to her and give her my cloak.
The rest of the crowd fell silent at the sight of her. A human slave was a rarity in these parts, and a treasure. Everyone would want her, and most would want her to suffer.
5
Emma
The crowd of aliens stared at me and I tried to ignore them. It was impossible. I was the center of attention, and if I could have run away again, I would have.
But this time I was chained to Ssarl, and he was chained to the next alien in line. There was no way I could get anywhere, even if the crocodiles watching us let down their guard.
“A rare catch, a human from the uncontacted worlds,” the spindly creature running the auction said, gesturing at me with a three-fingered hand. “Untouched and untrained, suitable for any purpose to which you wish to put her. Entertainment, perhaps? Or a hunt?”
The crowd murmured at that, and I wondered why. What made a human such a target for them? Why would they want me over, say, Ssarl?
I had no idea and no way of knowing, but it was better to think about that than what they might mean by ‘entertainment.’ The way some of the aliens were staring at me left little to the imagination.
Our introduction over, the guards unchained us and pushed the first slave forward to be sold. But the crowd’s eyes remained on me, despite the auctioneer banging his gavel to get their attention.
It looked like I was the prize purchase here. I didn’t know whether I ought to be pleased by that — if they valued me, did that mean they’d be less likely to hurt me?
But a look at how the aliens were staring at me took that hope from my mind. Their eyes were cold, predatory, and angry. Whatever they had in mind for me, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.
“Distinguished gentlefolk,” the auctioneer called out, sounding like his temper was fraying. “You know our policy — the lots will be sold in the order I introduced them. Now, who will bid on this fine Orisar? A trained fighter, well suited for the arena or a household guard position.”
Grumbling, the buyers at last turned their attention to the slave on sale. All but a few, who kept watching me. As the auction continued, I looked out into the crowd, trying to make sense of what I saw. There were so many different aliens, and my mind rebelled at the sight of them.
A few of them stood out amongst the crowd. There were a group of six-limbed furry aliens that bounced up and down with excitement whenever they placed a bid. They looked almost cute except for the chained slave standing behind them, shivering in the freezing air.
A pair of hooded figures, faces completely hidden by their cowls, gestured with mechanical limbs. Mysterious and frightening, but at least they didn’t look malicious.
A golden-skinned woman who looked like she was floating inches above the ground looked at me with a cold, hateful expression. I could almost see her thinking about what to do with me, and I wondered what it was about humans that aroused such anger. It made no sense.
There was one alien who stared even more intensely than she did. A red-skinned mountain of a man, wearing a crude fur cloak rather than the finery that most of the other buyers wore. Scars covered his face and arms, and his midnight-black eyes bored into my soul.
Unlike the golden lady, he didn’t make me want to cower in fear. The look in his eyes wasn’t hatred, and though there was anger on his strong features it didn’t look like it was directed at me. But the intensity of the lo
ok he gave me was frightening and I didn’t know where to rest my gaze.
The sales continued, most of the others bought by the various bidders and escorted from the stage. A few went unsold, and the angry looks that the slavers gave them as they retreated made it clear that they would suffer for it.
I shivered, hugging myself and wondering if I should hope someone bought me.
It’s got to be better than being stuffed back in that box and brought to the next market, right? As much as I tried to reassure myself, I wasn’t sure. The naked sadism in the golden woman’s eyes was terrifying, and the slavering lust that the other aliens looked at me with was equally horrifying.
Maybe my best hope was to be passed from one system to the next? Maybe those hooded figures would be alright? Or could I pin my hopes on the scarred alien with the deep red skin? Frightening as he was, he looked better than most of the alternatives.
The mysterious hooded figures bought one of the others from the chain. He looked reluctant, but with no other option he made his way down to them.
One of the figures reached out with a mechanical hand and a weird buzzing noise echoed through the room. The slave fell to his knees, a high-pitched keening coming from him as he shook in pain.
Right. Not them, then. I watched in horror, but the rest of the room seemed indifferent to the slave’s suffering. Anyone who came to a slave auction wouldn’t care what happened to the slaves, I supposed.
Ssarl was last, and I saw him straighten up as he stepped forward. He turned, giving the audience a good look, and I could feel his hope.
“A fine sliven,” the auctioneer said. “Hardworking, clever, skilled with computer programs. An excellent purchase, ladies and gentlemen. Bidding will start at one hundred bezziks.”
“A half-starved creature,” someone shouted. “No one wants him. Get to the real prize.”
“The lots will be sold in order, my friend,” the auctioneer said, gesturing. “And he is a bargain at that price. A few good meals to build up his strength will make him a valued member of your household, or an excellent investment to sell on.”