2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Z’Ree

The room is deathly quiet for what feels like an eternity. Realization slowly dawns on everyone present as more and more masters smash the buttons on their remotes. Still, nothing happens. Not a single slave falls to their knees, none of us being electrocuted into submission.

That’s when I see it. Something I’ve never seen before in a master and something I want to keep seeing every day for the rest of my life.

Fear.

Fear blooms in the slavers’ eyes as they watch the gladiators slowly stand up. As they watch the other slaves grab bottles, refreshment trays and anything else that could be used as a weapon.

The lead gladiator reaches for the slaver who’s still frantically pushing the button. The Okri’s hand covers both the slaver’s hands and the remote he’s holding. The sound of crushing plastic and bone combined pierces through the silence as the slaver howls in agony, then chaos ensues.

Guns are forbidden here so the guards are only armed with stunners and shock sticks. Most don’t even have time to pull out their weapons before they’re overrun by a tsunami of furious creatures whose sole purpose in life right now is revenge.

Everyone fights. I watch a young girl shove a shard of glass into her master’s crotch, over and over. Her hands are bleeding and the slaver is long dead, but she can’t seem to stop.

And me? I…freeze, indecision preventing me from moving a muscle.

Should I fight? I’m a head shorter than most people in the room and have half their body mass. I’m a useless fighter.

Run, then?

A new group of slaves barges into the room, joining the fight. They’re covered in blood and carrying weapons. Real weapons they must have stolen from the marketplace. The collars must be disabled all across the ship. We’re never going to get a better chance to escape.

But fear of how my master would punish me for a failed escape keeps me glued in place. Because no matter the chances, our escape is doomed to fail, isn’t it? We’re on a spaceship. It’s a big spaceship, but still a spaceship, floating through the vacuum of space. It’s not like we can just rush out of the door and hide in a jungle or blend in with the crowd in some anonymous metropolis.

A hand grabs my hair, pulling me up to my feet. “We’re leaving,” Master growls, his guards surrounding him, fending off the rebelling slaves. Still holding onto my hair, he yanks me into his chest and marches toward the nearest exit.

I stumble, crying out in pain as my body weight rests entirely on my tortured scalp. Before I can get my feet back under me, a laser shot whizzes through the spot where my head had been just moments ago. It severs some of my hair, burns Master’s hand, and continues on its way to kill the guard on my right.

The guards regroup around Master who’s screaming profanities, cradling his burnt hand to his chest. For a brief second, nobody’s paying attention to me and I know I have to make a decision.

One look at Master and the decision is made. Fury rages in his eyes as he glares at me, and I know he’ll hurt me even if I play the obedient slave and stay by his side. I bolt for the door.

He’s screaming at me to come back, beyond furious at the sight of his most valuable possession escaping him. His horrifically obscene threats of what he’ll do when he catches me echo through my ears long after I’ve left the room.

Crystallized tears roll down my cheeks while muffled sobs shake my body as I finally pause to catch my breath.

I’m free. Sort of.

I’m still on the slave ship and I’m certain that the collars won’t be disabled forever. Once the system reboots, it will incapacitate every slave across the ship at once. The rebellion will be over and the reprisals will be horrific.

I need to get off the ship. Somehow.

The marketplace resembles a war zone. I’ve only ever been here a few times before as Master prefers to keep me hidden, only showing me off to a very select group of his important business associates. From what I remember of it though, the place has changed beyond recognition. Stalls that once sold illegal weapons have been ransacked, their owners killed by their own products. The platforms where slaves of every imaginable species are usually auctioned off to the highest bidder are now in ruins, reduced to rubble by the crazed crowd.

Bodies litter the floor and there’s blood everywhere. Dead guards lie next to dead and dying slaves, all bleeding from one wound or another. Dark red mixes with bright blue blood in one pool, creating a colorful swirl. The wall I run past is streaked brown and green. It’s like a toddler took out a box of paints and started throwing them around randomly.

Stuffing my fist into my mouth, I bite down to stifle the whimper insisting on coming out. I need to focus. I’ve got to somehow find a way off this ship, but my brain refuses to cooperate. All I want to do is curl up in a corner and wail like a baby.

“Woah! What the fuck?” A group of newly liberated slaves stares at me as I’m about to run past, taking in my unusual appearance. I can almost see the galactic unit signs flashing in their eyes. They’re calculating how valuable I am and how much money they’d get for selling me. The fact that just minutes ago, they were about to be sold themselves doesn’t seem to bother any of them.

There’s no solidarity here, no camaraderie. Thanks to what I am, I’m in danger from both the slavers and the slaves. Nobody will ever see me as a person. I’ll always be just an item of incredible value, something to be sold or bargained with.

“Get her!” someone screams behind me.

I run faster, terror carrying my feet forward, helping me to jump over bodies and rubble with ease.

Once I’m sure I’ve lost them I slow down, gasping for air. I haven’t run in years and it shows. I can’t stop though. I’m not safe yet. I’m not sure I’ll ever be safe.

I leave the marketplace and head down a wide corridor. Airlocks line one side, indicating where smaller ships can dock with the behemoth I’m on right now, all empty. Perhaps it’s for the best. What would I do if there was a ship docked here? Knock and politely ask, “Hello, Mr. Criminal, would you mind taking me with you? Oh, and please, pay no attention to the fact that I’m probably the last living Silithrae in the universe and you’d get immensely rich from selling me. Don’t enslave me, pretty please.” Yeah, I can see that going down well.

Still, I can’t stay here. Even now, I hear pounding footsteps coming from just around the corner.

I run for the nearest open door, finding myself in a locker room presumably used by the ship’s technicians. Fortunately, there’s not a living soul around.

Guided by a sudden spark of inspiration, I pull out dirty coveralls from the laundry box. They’re too big for me and they stink of someone else’s sweat but I put them on anyway. I need a disguise and that means covering as much of my skin as possible.

I dig up a filthy rag that’s probably been used to wipe the floors and wrap it around my head to cover my hair. I can’t do anything to hide my large, purple eyes, but those shouldn’t give me away at first sight. The rest of my shimmering skin would, though, so I scrape some engine grease along with other, unidentifiable filth off the side of someone’s boot and smear it over my face and hands.

A glance in the wall-mounted mirror confirms I look like shit. But looking like shit is better than looking like a Silithrae, so I’ll take it.

I wrap another rag around the lower part of my face and add some more dirt to the rest of it just to be on the safe side, then cautiously peer out of the locker room. Finding the corridor empty, I leave the room and continue my search for something, anything, that will get me off this ship. I mean, after everything I’ve been through, asking for an unguarded ship isn’t too much, is it?

An airlock down the corridor is open and is guarded by a tall male. He looks human, but that’s impossible. The only humans I’ve ever seen were slaves, and this person is holding a rifle. He must be from a species that’s similar to humans. A Zyderi, perhaps. I don’t see any horns from where I stand but I’m not about to move close enough to look for them.

I freeze when the male perks up, hearing noises from the other end of the corridor. He rocks on the balls of his feet, looking between the airlock and the source of the noise. Eventually, he lowers his rifle, slings a large bag over his shoulder, and runs off.

Good geodes!

I stare after him. Is this a trap? A cosmic joke? I know I just asked for an unguarded airlock, but can it really be this simple?

Knowing I don’t have much time, I race to the airlock. I don’t see any other guards nor do I spot anyone else. The short tunnel connecting the two ships is open. All I have to do is cross over and I’ll be on the stranger’s ship. Not exactly safe. In fact, probably far from it, but at least I’ll be away from my current master.

Every ship has maintenance walkways and air vents. I’m small, I can fit almost anywhere. They’ll never even know I’m on board. Nobody will look for me. I’ll hide and wait until they dock at a spaceport, then sneak out again. Then…

I don’t actually know what I’ll do then. My plan doesn’t factor that far ahead. But it is the only plan I’ve got and I only have a few seconds left to execute it before someone notices me standing here.

Voices echo behind me, propelling me forward. I sprint through the tunnel, half expecting someone to be waiting for me on the other side but there’s no one. On the verge of a massive panic attack, I look around, searching for a maintenance hatch, air vent, anything. There must be one nearby. Every ship has them. Every ship, that is, but this one?

My mouth dries up like a desert and tears gather in my eyes, threatening to fall. The collar around my neck feels like a noose, squeezing tighter and tighter, cutting off my airways and crushing my windpipe. I pray to whoever is listening not to abandon me now, to give me a sign.

Then I see it. A sign. An actual “Maintenance - Entrance” sign with a neat arrow pointing to the nearest hatch.

Stumbling forward, my vision darkens from the sudden lack of air. I can’t breathe, I can’t think. The only thing I know is that I have to get away. The voices grow louder as their owners draw closer. They’re arguing, yelling at each other. I don’t want to be here when they arrive.

I can barely see anything through my tears but I make it to the hatch unseen. It opens smoothly, allowing me to launch myself into the dark corridor beyond, slamming the hatch shut behind me.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. What if someone heard it slam?

Biting down on my fist again to stop myself from making any noise, I wait. Biting hurts, but the pain keeps me focused.

There’s more yelling outside of the hatch. I don’t even try to make out the words. Mercenaries and other lowlives are always yelling at each other. Always fighting, always drinking and taking drugs. Always taking their anger out on whoever is available at the moment.

Then, it’s quiet. I think I hear the hiss of the airlock being closed, but it’s difficult to tell over the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

I hold my breath, waiting for someone to yank open the hatch, drag me out, and start hurting me but nobody comes. I wait and wait, but nothing terrible happens. The sound of the engines change, suggesting that we’re moving, maybe we’ve even jumped into hyperspace.

The thought of being so far away from Master makes me giddy and lightheaded. Of course, it might just be a lack of oxygen from holding my breath for too long. Either way, I’m no longer able to keep my eyelids open. I close them, determined to rest my eyes for just a moment. I fall asleep before I’ve even finished that thought.