Chapter 1
Zina
I bend down and pull the child who is like my own into a hug. “Don’t cry. It’s okay, sweetling.” She wraps her arms around my waist and snuffles, the loose hairs from her newly-cut hair tickling my chin. “It keeps you safer.”
A pang of concern pierces my chest as I hug her. She hardly ever cries. My bad leg twinges, and I shift to alleviate the shooting pain along my nerve. All the walking lately has it irritated and swollen.
An evening mari bird cries overhead, and I look up to scan the sky. “We have to get back.” I gently let her go, then push her dark locks and my auburn ones into the shallow hole I’ve dug in the fallow field with my boot. Some dirt and rocks will hide them from notice.
“I’m sorry, Enya.” I slide the sharpened rock, the one I used as a knife, into my pocket. “You know your pretty hair attracts too much Ocretion male attention. Better to keep it like this.” I run a hand over her stubbly ends. “Always wear your hood up. And keep doing the mud thing on your skin just a little bit. Not too much.” I stretch my calf by planting my foot on the ground and leaning forward: sometimes this helps.
She sniffs. “It’s not the hair I care about. It’s... what happens next?”
I dragged her out here for a fresh cut because I saw some of the guards leering at her. She’s only nine solar cycles, but that won’t stop the monsters from using her body for pleasure if they can find a way to do it without Master finding out.
I squeeze her to me, her bony shoulders as familiar to me as my own hand, wishing I could magically transport the both of us out of this hellhole. Somewhere safe, and kind, where human females aren’t used for labor and sex and any other usage the Ocretions dream up.
“Master re-approved me as your guardian through the end of this solar cycle.” I force a positive lilt into my voice. “So that’s good.” The child has been my apprentice for house-chores for the master since she was only four solar cycles. I’m often given the younger slaves to mind and train since my work is more flexible than other slaves’.
She raises her head and her green eyes, shot through with fine red lace, gleam with moisture. She’s a beautiful girl—devastatingly beautiful, with dark hair, pale skin and big green eyes. The dimples and bowtie lips helped when she was younger—even the horrid Ocretions found her cute for a human. But now, it’s what concerns me.
“When the time is up?” Her smaller hands clutch at me, as if holding me close like this could ensure safety. “In less than three solar cycles I’ll be of age.”
“I do not know.” I swallow hard. “Not for sure.”
I do know.
Once she’s twelve solar cycles, she will be eligible, per Ocretion rules, for auction on the free market. And we both know what she’ll be bought for—breeding or pleasure. Worse than that, though, we’ll be separated. And we’ve become family, she and I.
Master might keep her, of course—as a house slave, like me, who raises other slave young and does cleaning and household chores. He could sell her to an ag farm, to harvest produce.
But I’ve overheard him talking to other Ocretions about how young virgin humans have fetched great amounts of stein, even those not trained for sex. Especially those not trained for sex. He’s bragged about having the highest number of young humans who will approach maturity in time for the next auction. Enya will probably be one of them when she reaches twelve. And she’s too smart for me to hide that from her.
“They’ll take me away to somewhere worse.” Her voice hitches. “And all I want is...” she trails off.
Her next words chill my heart. “Every time I hope for something, or love something, it gets taken away. Sometimes? I think maybe it’s not worth it anymore.”
This child is not my own, yet I love her no less than if she were my flesh and blood. I’ve raised her since she was bought from a slave breeder as a tot.
“We’ll find a way to stay together,” I promise her, even though I can’t imagine what that might be. I have to do whatever it takes. “Or I’ll make sure you go somewhere decent.”
I press her slender body into mine. I’m relatively safe from trading—with my enforced sterility via implants, and my permanently injured leg, I’m not worth much at trade.
But she has a chance, if I can figure out a way to get her to a better place. “Don’t say that.” My tone is rough. “Humans don’t give up. Enya, somewhere out there, out in the stars, your mother and your siblings are thinking of you.”
If they’re not dead. They’ve probably perished long ago. We will never know. That is part of the pain of being a human in this galaxy.
“I don’t know.” Her voice is listless.
“We will figure something out,” I promise her, stifling my own tears. “We are smart, and strong. Believe that in your heart. Do it for me.”
She nods and goes quiet, and we stand like that for a while, with the breeze blowing against us and the setting suns sparkling overhead, deceptively lovely as they shine on this planet full of cruelty. But we cannot linger; I’m due at the barracks for night check-in.
It was challenging to even get this assignment, bringing supplies to the farm workers. It allowed me a short window to sneak her away for our clandestine haircuts.
“If anyone asks about the hair, just say we were infected with wheat lice as we walked through the fields near the woods, and it needed to be cut.”
I’ve used that excuse once already. Nobody cares much about me, but Master is starting to keep stricter tabs on Enya. This may be the last time I can get away with hiding her beauty.
/> “I wish we could use that cutting rock to kill Master.”
“I do too. But we cannot.” I’ve thought about it incessantly, but even if we managed it, there would be nowhere to go. Slaves who harm Ocretions here are either sentenced to death or brutally punished. “We must find a way to get you out of here.”
She shrugs, so I make my tone insistent.
“Mother Earth willing, we will find a way.” I step away from her and take her hand. “We have three solar cycles. Just stay strong a little longer.”
She allows the grip, but is silent on the way back, her head down. It takes all of my best songs and cheerful talk to get her to maintain some semblance of normalcy—sulky faces and tearful voices, Master always says, are not appropriate for humans, and can warrant painful shock punishments until we better appreciate the “luxuries” we are granted.
So far, I’ve managed to shield Enya from this, but the older she gets, and the more she catches Master’s eye… well, I won't be able to protect her much longer.
All my life, I’ve loved caring for young, and dreamt of having my own. All the young I’ve raised have been taken from me—moved onto other jobs or sold off. I don’t want to lose Enya now, too.
I can’t lose her.
Tarek
“Have you been paralyzed? You’re moving slowly.” I punch Captain Drayk on the shoulder.
My fist connects perfectly with his sinews, even though I can’t see with my eyes.
“Just trying to maintain a pace that you can handle,” he snorts, ignoring my fist.
“Your gear ready?”
I sense the air move as he shifts his head in a nod, and my audio-visual transponder sends the movement signals to my brain to interpret. I step back to his side, knowing exactly where and when he changes position, based on the aural sound wave feedback.
“Status 100 percent complete.” I turn and point to the nav deck on the starship. “Systems have been upgraded and I’m linked in. We’re good to go.”
“Excellent.”
I close my eyes and focus. It takes only a split second before I sense the signals in my mind. I don’t see things the way other beings do, but I sense them—their depth, width, height. I understand the rotational dynamics of approaching asteroids and analyze their trajectory in a heartbeat to avoid them. It’s all because of the tech Dr. Daneth implanted into my brain, the advances that meld silicon and electricity with my own biology to allow me to accomplish nav tasks that even sighted Zandians cannot. Too bad I can’t hold my own in combat, though.
I force that last thought out of my mind. “I know this will be a treacherous journey. I am fully prepared.”
“Good.” He stands taller; I can tell because his signal in my comm expands. I know this is a sign of confidence. I’m proud of being so helpful. As a disabled Zandian, I’m glad I’m able to contribute to society in a critical way.
“This will be a risky op, not just in getting there. Once on-planet, it will not be a simple extraction.” His voice is somber.
We are silent for a second. “This is the elder of the two, correct?” I clear my throat.
“Yes. We located her using the discs we obtained on the last mission. King Zander said we have a short window of opportunity to rescue her during the upcoming slave auction.”
“You’re going to bid on her?” I frown. Even though I cannot see, I automatically make the same expressions as others, I’ve been told. I certainly feel how my face reacts to different inputs.
“No. Zandians cannot attend auctions right now where Ocretions are present—too dangerous. We’ll steal her from the being who purchases her.”