Slave World (9 page)

Chapter Three

Regilain, as it’s known in Galactic Standard English, is predominantly a desert world devoid of sentient life except for the quasi-nomadic race of insectoids, known as the T’ivk. It’s a dust ball of blistering heat and violent atmospheric sandstorms, with massive whirlwind tempests that rage for days on end. The boundless expanse of dune seas covering much of the planet’s surface are broken only by a speckling of spaceport entrances to the underground citadels that snake throughout the planet’s lithosphere like massive anthills.

The only thing the T’ivk love more than the inhospitable desolation of their homeworld, is bartering. They can haggle for hours on end over the price of a ten-credit meal if given the chance. Nothing has a set price on Regilain when dealing with a T’ivk; it’s all based on the skill or patience of a buyer to obtain what they want for the price they want. It’s the perfect environment for the offworld merchants of the Outer Rim to create an industry based on slave trade.

I was a bit surprised when Quin allowed me to keep my clothes on. I half expected to be paraded naked and in chains throughout the port after the way I’d been treated thus far.
Maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad.
I’d forgotten just how damn hot it was here, breaking out in a sweat almost instantly after stepping off the ship. The billowing gale of heat, tainted with an overwhelming multitude of odors ranging from chemical aviation fuel to the molten metal of cutting torches made me light-headed and nauseous. I suppose it didn’t help matters that I haven’t had anything to eat or drink in nearly a day.

I followed numbly behind Dobbs like a broken puppy while we wound our way through the scattering of docked ships and refit gantries. In the distance, the outlying silhouette of automated defense batteries incessantly scanned not only the ground, but also the hazy amber sky. There were more threats on Regilain than just the occasional rogue marauders to contend with.

I looked back at the Tramp one last time. She was beat to hell from the meteors, but a swarm of techs and bots, no doubt under the employment of the Sesik Cartel, had already descended on her to repair the damage. Everything I was, my life savings, all my memories and what few possessions I had, continued to drift further away with a nebulous future. It was a horrible thing to experience, possibly like losing a child, or maybe a father. My stomach knotted into a tight ball as my old life, and the meager security it offered, disappeared behind me forever in a swirling cloud of sand and dust.

We eventually passed through the twenty-foot tall, three-foot thick blast doors, descending into the cool, dry interior of hive Rep’ick’s market district proper. The bitter, unpleasant smell of stagnate humanity and alien life was all consuming while the fetid stench of the T’ivk overshadowed even that. Not even the massive ventilation fans mounted in the cavernous depths of the rock ceiling could rid the place of their smell for long.

I slowed, beginning to retch as we passed by a group of them jabbering away in quick, almost discernable speech, faces hidden within the murky depths of their long cloaks. The odor their pale, spindly bodies gave off in close proximity reminded me of something that had been left rotting in the sun for too long. I was shoved from behind, prodded relentlessly forward. No rest for the weary, not any longer.

Most of the time when I delivered cargo, it was off loaded and spirited away shortly after I landed. I rarely stayed planetside for any longer than it took to purchase a restock of supplies, or make any minor repairs if need be. I’d
never
been this deep into a citadel before, let alone a slave market. Fascinated disgust was a good way of describing what I felt, the closer that we came to it.

A cacophony of street vendors from around the galaxy lined the bustling causeway, selling foodstuff and oddities, rare and exquisite jewelry or vibrant handmade throw rugs. You couldn’t walk five feet without a different heckler trying to entice you into buying something. I began to see the horror of indignity that would become an all too familiar sight in my life, from here on out.

Mixed in among the vendors were the independent slavers, the little guys that made a credit here or there selling whatever happened to fall into their dirty, little hands. Most of their slavestock looked worn from years of abuse and ill treatment. I briefly met the lifeless eyes of an old man before looking down in shame. He was naked and in chains, scarred with neglect and the waxy completion of near death hinting behind sagging, malnourished skin. The tag hanging around his neck said he cost thirty credits. That was less than I’d spent on my last pair of boots.

Among the humming masses we passed a long row of naked slave girls tied together moving in the opposite direction. They were all human, but as varied in shape and size as they came. A tall slaver dressed in full environmental armor led them on a tether, his face obscured beneath a pair of multi-optic goggles and a breathing apparatus. I couldn’t help but watch the girls as we passed, wondering if that would soon be my fate.

The more I looked around, the more astounded I became. An entire cross-section of the galaxy, a microcosm of every race could be seen either leading a slave, or becoming one. The one thing that remained a constant though was the broken look of the slavestock. It didn’t matter if they were male or female, human or alien; they all had a downcast gaze of hopeless defeat about them.
Probably not unlike my own, if I were to guess.
I could honestly say now, that Regilain was nothing but a pit; a stinking cesspool of people that made their way through life living on the misery of others.
And
I’d turned a blind-eye to this, supporting it for how many years?
Karma sure is a ruthless bitch.

I was jerked to a stop before a nondescript, but heavily trafficked building that stretched forever into the gloom of the wide tunnel like road. I knew we’d reached our destination, even if I hadn’t seen the large glowing sign above the main, double door entrance. Quin pressed in close, so close that the sour reek of his sweat filled my nostrils.

“Not a word, not one fucking word, or I’ll have Dobbs put you down for good, understand?” I looked up at him pitifully, as my life as a slave beginning with a downcast gaze of resignation.

A trio of armed guards at the entrance stopped us none to friendly. “Your business?”

“Name’s Quin, I’m here to make a sale. Alexi’s expecting me.” The guard scanned our small group before his eyes finally came to rest on me. He snickered, shaking his head. “Good luck, you might be able to buy lunch with what you’ll get out of her.”

I swallowed hard, inwardly crumbling just a little bit more. Was human life really that cheap here?
Was I worth so little?
Yeah, apparently I was, based on what he saw.

“Whatever, tough guy, where’s the new drop off point?” Quin prompted him impatiently.

The guard jerked his thumb, pointing us in the direction of a recessed gap in the building about a block away. “Property entrance is down that ally. Go through the cargo door and present her at the foreman’s desk.” Quin nodded his thanks, and we continued on.

I had to wait my turn on the foul smelling, crowed loading dock behind a large chained-gang group of mixed races. They looked terrible; dirty, beat-up and anything but tame from what I could tell. More than once, a few of them were beat into complacency with stun-sticks.

Despite the size of the group in front of me, I was presented before the Holloway Trading Company’s purchasing rep in less than ten minutes. It’s amazing how easy it is to actually sell a human being; a cursory inspection by the greasy, cigar smoking foreman to make sure you’re not already someone else’s property, and that’s it. Outside of Federation space, the laws that kept slave trade at least somewhat civil were all but extinct; it’s all about turning a profit, regardless of the consequences it has on someone else.

Shortly thereafter, I was hustled into a backroom. Holloway Trading weren’t fools and before money exchanged hands, before anything was made official, they had to see if I was actually worth the exorbitant amount that Quin was asking for me. For my sake I hoped so; this was one of those situations where being sold to Holloway Trading was probably my safest route. What else did I have to look forward to? Being a plaything for Dobbs and Quin for awhile, before being sold off to a street peddler, or dumped off in a back alley with my throat cut? The sooner I was away from those two, the better.

A tall, strikingly beautiful redhead dressed in a shimmering leather emerald suit-skirt flowed briskly into the room on clicking heels with an entourage of T’ivk brokers in her wake. I’d never met Alexi Holloway, let alone seen her before, but she simply oozed with the scent of distinguished power. Quin seemed to know her from somewhere; they shook hands lightly, looking in my direction. Her piercing gaze made me feel like a turd in the toilet bowl about to be flushed away forever.

“Is
this
what you intend to sell me today, Miles?” I couldn’t place Alexi’s haughty accent.
The old South African Confederated Kolony, maybe?
“You
must
be joking? The only reason I agreed to meet with you in person-”

“Alexi,” Quin cut her off. “You’ll like her, trust me. She’s well worth your time,” he cooed soothingly.

Her sparkling, dagger-like eyes bore ruthlessly into Quin. “I hope so, Miles, for your sake. If this is some sort of pathetic attempt on your part to-” Quin took a step closer, his hand hesitantly reaching out to grasp the expensive material of her jacketed arm.

“Alli…”

She pulled away gently, and her expression took on the slightest trace of softening above a rose shadow that blossomed in her cheeks.
Holy shit, Quin and Alexi Holloway have something going on between them? No freaking way!
How in the hell had someone like Quin ever hooked up with her? She was the richest, most successful slave broker in the entire Outer Rim.

“I told you not to call me that anymore,” she whispered with a hint of edgy remorse. “It’s over between us, you made that quite clear when you started fucking that little tramp behind my back.”
Bad boy
…I thought wistfully.

“Look, I told you I was sorry. It was a stupid mistake. Let me make it up to you?” Alexi shook her head, face growing hard again.

“I don’t have time for this right now, just…just show me what makes this piece of trash so special before I have the lot of you thrown out into the street along with her.”

She wasn’t fooling anyone, at least not me at any rate. She still had the hots for him; it was written all over her face. Quin stepped back with downcast eyes though, and my performance started with nothing more than a nod and the touch of a control key.

It was stronger than what I’d felt before. Every ounce of self-control and humility I had remaining was tossed aside just as readily as my clothes. I came at least twice from the sudden wash of sensation while I frantically stripped, begging to be fucked first by Dobbs and then everyone else in the room, to include the nasty T’ivk.
Yuck!
I wasn’t even sure that was possible. I think they laid eggs, but at the time, I could have cared less. Surprisingly, none of them seemed all that impressed by my sex-crazed display.

“Any sentient could be made to do that, with some mind-altering drugs and reconditioning,” one of the brokers clicked dryly through his mandible-like mouth after Dobbs turned the pleasure stimulation off. Neither the brokers nor Alexi were even convinced the remote was actually doing anything, while they continued to discuss me like a piece of meat. The thing that did seem to interest them was seeing a display of my enhanced strength and other hardware.

A house lackey was summoned with a gravity belt that he strapped about my waist before activating it. The pull on my shoulders and legs was immediate, and I sagged momentarily under the weight until my servos kicked in. I straightened my knees, back stiff in a feeble show of defiance, with the equivalent of carrying at least an extra 200 pounds if not more. Just the fact that I was still standing at all, that I wasn’t screaming in agony, crumpled into a pile of broken bones, made the T’ivk’s dark globular eyes light up with excitement. Alexi cocked her brow at Quin with an amused expression.

I was ordered to jump as high as I could; my palms thumped off the twelve-foot high ceiling. After that I was ordered to continue with a lazy jump rope hop for nearly five minutes non-stop. The animated banter between Alexi and Quin told me my fate was now sealed; I’d just become a victim of my body and what it was capable of doing. The command came for me to stop, and I was placed in a sterile holding cell while the negotiations continued. Sure I was a little sore, I
was
out of shape after all, but I could have easily kept going.

I watched the negotiation emotionlessly, growing cold inside. Somewhere in the back of my mind a change had already started to fester like a puss filled sore. This was it, this was my life now, I was a slave and nothing was going to change that anytime soon. I started to revert without even knowing it into the person I’d been long ago. It was a defense mechanism that had helped me cope through the worst times of my life, and now it was needed again in order to survive. I would do what I had to do, willingly obeying my new Masters without question from now on.

It wasn’t long before the I’s were dotted and the T’s were crossed. It was official; I was now a slave belonging to the Holloway Trading Company. Alexi was more than happy to take me off of Quin’s hands after a display like that.