Bonus Chapter I

Bathma Station

Vanmik was preening his arm feathers when the station director walked into the slave and livestock sale area. This was the second time he'd done so in two days, when he'd rarely ever traveled to this area before.

Everyone heard rumors that something big was going to happen, but no one knew what. It was old news that Bathma station had been sold again; that had happened regularly during Vanmik's time on the station. The question was why the station director was here again. It couldn't possibly be good news.

Were they going to be moved again? This area was crowded, but the last time he'd been sold, the slave and livestock area was near one of the bays. It'd been freezing there, and he'd spent several miserable days waiting to be bought.

He prayed to the gods that it wasn't about to happen again. This was his first day for sale, and it always took several before someone decided to buy him. Not that being bought guaranteed him comfort. He was underweight because his last owner often skimped on meals.

If this kind of treatment kept up, he wasn't sure how much longer he'd last.

He'd started his career on Bathma as free. He'd worked for almost a year without a problem until he was accused by his employer of stealing. Station security took over, and he was tried and convicted in only a few days. At the time, the station was owned by an Orlok group and punishments were often slavery.

He was sold and had been a slave ever since.

The station had gone through four ownerships since then, and even though policies had changed, they weren't retroactive. He was never freed.

Even worse, the new owners must have some kind of plan for the slave market because yesterday the station director collected two slaves and didn't bring them back. Were they being shipped off to some larger slave auction house? Living on the station was bad, but at least it was familiar. What would happen to him if he was sent to work among a species he wasn't familiar with?

As he watched, the station director had a brief conversation with the seller. One of the slaves was unlatched from their pole and followed the station director down the aisle.

"Do you think they're being sold for labor or food?" Lameli asked.

Vanmik looked over at the Nimon. "I wish I knew."

When the station director stopped in front of them, Vanmik shrank back. Unfortunately he was tethered right next to the stall's entrance and couldn't escape the station director's notice.

"He looks sickly," the station director said, pointing at Vanmik. "I'll take this one too."

"Same deal as you gave Va'alinc?" the booth owner asked.

The station director made an impatient sound. "Of course. All of you got the notice, so there's nothing underhanded going on."

The booth owner grunted and reached over to release the pole leash from Vanmik's collar. "Fine."

The station director tapped the information square the booth owner held out, then looked at Vanmik.

"Come with me."

Fear made Vanmik's heart beat kick up. "I'm a skilled inner-shell integrity specialist," he told the station director. "I've been employed several times by individuals subcontracted to retrofit areas of the station. I'd be an asset to the station."

He wanted to add, please don't eat me , but wasn't sure how that would be received.

"Yes, yes," the station manager said as he led them away. "I'm sure you're very skilled."

It was hard, but Vanmik kept his beak shut. He and the other slave obediently followed the station director. He must've been more tired than he thought because he tripped over nothing and went to his knees. The other slave was quick to try and help him to his feet, but the station director turned and saw it.

"What's wrong with you?" he snapped.

"Nothing, sir," Vanmik answered.

The station director looked down at the floor. "There's nothing to trip on. And your feathers are dull and sparse. You're sick, aren't you?"

"No, sir!" Vanmik said, trying to fluff his feathers so he looked bigger and healthier. "I'm perfectly healthy. I wasn't paying attention and tripped. That's all. It won't happen again."

The director made an impatient sound. "Don't lie to me." He looked to the second slave. "Do you know where my office is?"

"Yes, sir," the slave said.

"Go there and wait for me," the director ordered. "If my assistant is there, tell him I had to take care of this one first. Go on, hurry up. I'm on a schedule."

The other slave cast Vanmik a sad look and scurried away. The station director took hold of Vanmik's arm, right above his elbow claw, and started leading him away.

"Try not to hurt yourself further. I don't want to spend more on you if I don't have to," he grumbled as they walked.

It was probably good that the director was helping him because Vanmik was shaking with fear and having a hard time coordinating his feet.

The director was leading him toward the restaurant section of the ship.

Before they entered that area, they took an abrupt right and entered one of the lifts. Confused and relieved, Vanmik leaned a little more on the station director's bulk to stay upright. He was feeling a little dizzy and very confused.

When they got off and the director took him to the station's medical suites, he was even more puzzled. Was this his new job? He had no medical training at all. Maybe they needed help with equipment maintenance. He'd need to learn fast; he'd never worked with this type of tech before.

"Here's another one," the director grumbled, pushing Vanmik at one of the med techs. He wasn't ready for it and completely lost his balance. The tech managed to grab him before he fell flat on the floor.

"You'll need this," the director said, shoving an information square out. The med tech managed to take it and keep hold of Vanmik. Before she could say anything, the director turned on his heels and left.

"You're almost in as bad of shape as the Tormif from yesterday," the med tech said as she helped Vanmik to a nearby bed. "In you go."

Yesterday one of the slaves the station director took away had been a sickly Tormif. Was it the same one?

Looking around, Vanmik saw that Tormif sound asleep in a web hammock. He looked much better than when Vanmik last saw him.

He looked at the med tech. "We aren't going to be eaten?"

The med tech looked aghast. "In the light of the sun, no! Of course not. You're being set free."

Vanmik couldn't believe his earholes. "What?"

The med tech gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder. "The station's new ownership is making slavery illegal on this station. The deadline to set stock free or leave is coming up, but the station director was given instructions to buy any slaves that might not last that long. You're the third slave he's brought here."

Vanmik couldn't believe his good fortune. He might be without wealth or resources, but at least he was free. "Praise," he murmured. "Is there any way I can contact the new owners to thank them?"

"There's a location number indicator," she said as she attached machines to him and began her assessment. "But they're Talin, so it'll take a long time to get to them."

"It'll take me a while to earn enough to send the message," he said, thinking about all the jobs on the station he could apply for.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," she said, then pulled out the information square the director had handed her. "This is yours. It's pre-loaded with credits. It's enough to live comfortably for at least fifty or so rotations. Double that if you're frugal."

Vanmik held the information square like it was a delicate work of art. "I'll say a blessing to them every day."

The med tech didn't respond. Cradling the information square against his chest, Vanmik relaxed back in the bed. He was alive and free, and it was more than he ever expected. He'd never take either for granted again.