There was a strange scent. I sniffed, breathing it in, and wondered where I was. My sense of smell seemed heightened. I struggled to move my hands since every part of my body felt stiff. I tried to shake my head to dislodge cold sleep from my mind, but it wasn’t obeying my directions. I’d never been in stasis before, not that I could remember at least. In fact, I’d never even thought about what it was like.
There were noises, which were distinct, yet at the same time jumbled together. A mumble of voices, sounds of oozing, of globules swelling up and plopping onto a hard surfaces, and of footsteps. The clatter of metal and the buzzing of power relays merged.
My finger flexed next to my ear. I was no longer in cold sleep. A hard surface was under my bare feet. That meant I was standing. It seemed to be a funny position to wake up in.
Hesitantly, I squinted out of my half-raised eyelid. I shut it quickly. Expectations of rescue had skewed slightly. I opened both my eyes and took in the surroundings. After a minute, I remembered to breathe. It was like a scene from the vidmovie, Slave Traders Meet the Turai to be precise, but it was so much more. Where the vidmovie had only humanoids as sellers and buyers, this place had aliens. Lots of aliens.
My instinctive reaction was to bolt. The hum of the restraining field sizzled when I tried to move. I eased back, attempting to feel around the edges. Panic was a good option but I was too awestruck to let it take hold. I was at once horrified and fascinated by the slave market.
The smells were the scents of unwashed aliens and humans, who mingled in rows between stands where beings like me stood suspended. Scales, goo, cold-looking flesh, arms, claws, nobs of gooey ooze, flexed and moved through the throng. My jaw flopped open. Strange noises gurgled in my throat.
After I calmed down, I felt someone’s eyes on me. My gaze slid sideways. I could see there was a woman in the next stand. She looked humanoid but old and dried up. ‘What are you looking at?’ I asked, curious and annoyed. Her violet-coloured eyes were unnaturally bright and they unnerved me. I lowered my gaze, suddenly self-conscious.
‘You, of course,’ she said in a voice like scrunching paper. ‘You don’t know what you are about do you? First time?’
I swallowed. It looked like I wasn’t even any good as a slave. ‘Uh yes. Is there any way out of this?’
The woman smiled though her eyes were dark pools. Obviously, she had a way to alter her eye colour in line with her mood. Within the bounds of her restraining field, the woman managed to convey shock and horror using body language. ‘Out? Why would you want out? If you have a first-rate owner life can be good for a slave.’
‘Good?’
‘You have to be careful, though, to pick the right buyer.’
I was more than stunned by her words. ‘Pick my buyer? But I’m standing here in full view being eyed off by…’
The woman dripped excitement. ‘Exactly,’ she said as her eyes darted here and there, not randomly, but pointing out particular beings. ‘Like him,’ she whispered. ‘And her and it there.’
‘Really?’ I was awed by how she could work those eyes, be so precise and by how much she knew about these races and beings that I’d never heard of before.
‘But you need to choose and then you will them to buy you. Doing this helps.’ She chose that moment to stare at a tall humanoid, draped in a hooded, multicoloured robe with his face covered in a bronze mask. It could have been a breathing apparatus. With the stink I could smell, I could understand the need.
Despite the restraining field, the woman managed to move her body, a dance of seduction that was surely more real than any actress’ attempt I had ever seen.
The humanoid stared at the woman, and she repeated her move. ‘Now you do it,’ she said to me once she had her buyer mesmerised by her bodily contortions. I glanced at her sideways and wondered if either of us was sane.
‘Me?’ I said, suddenly realising what a pity it was I’d ever been born.
‘Yes. He’s a Ridallian by the looks of him. They have a good reputation. But if you don’t mind the smell, green ooze and scales, that Nuvral standing near him wouldn’t be a bad owner. My last owner was Nuvral and it was an interesting placement. It was amazing what he could do with his tentacles.’
‘But you’re here. Can’t have been that good.’ I managed to smirk. I needed to prove the woman wrong. Her eyebrow came down. Clearly, it was a gesture of disdain. But I was sure my comment had hit home.
‘It was good,’ she said, and her eyes seemed to cloud with memories. ‘But there was a military coup and he was killed. None of the opposition wanted me permanently, even though they found me interesting. I was sold to buy arms, when they had satisfied their curiosity.’ She sighed and a faint smile crept onto her face. Her eyes darted among the crowd of buyers again.
‘Their culture was so unstable,’ she added forlornly. ‘Now I have to break in a new owner all over again.’
‘I’m sorry then.’ Either my situation was depressing me or that sick feeling in my gut was the after-effects of being in stasis. ‘I can’t do what you just did.’
‘Shut up and listen. See he’s passing by again. Throw out your chest, breathe deeply and imagine your lover’s hands caressing you.’
‘What? I don’t have a lover. I’m just a…’ What was I? I was 16 and that meant I was no longer a kid. I shrugged. The other aliens didn’t look appealing. If I was going to end up as a slave, I guessed I’d have to take the advice. Better to choose than be chosen.
Still, I doubted whether the slave woman’s tactics would actually work. Mysterious, alien eyes behind the mask slid down my body, and I had to meet them. I thought of Del Divlan and replayed her slave girl seduction scene. Doing an approximation of it, I self-consciously jutted out my breasts, draped in pale blue, mauve and white translucent material. So much for hiding them behind metal plating, I thought. Simultaneously, I arched my back, causing the drapery to flutter ever so slightly along the back of my legs. I knew I was playing with fire and began to worry about what would happen if the Ridallian did buy me. Did slaves have a checklist to work off?
The Ridallian’s robe fluttered. Did that mean it worked? I looked at him and smiled. He lifted a dark, gloved hand and signalled. My smile turned to puzzlement as he turned his back on me and walked away. Two hairy bovine types took his place. I glared at them belligerently.
‘What happened?’ I whispered to my slave woman companion. There was no response. I shifted my head so I could slide my gaze in her direction. The stand was empty. Obviously, she’d been purchased already. I felt alone. The sinking feeling nearly toppled me. If it wasn’t for the restraining field I would have collapsed. That woman had kept my mind off things, a bit. A tear slid down my cheek. It tickled but I couldn’t wipe it way.
The crowd of aliens and humans swirled around me. More eager faces stared at me from different angles. I could hear them discussing me. A human came up and started a sales pitch. Apparently I had all my faculties. I could be trained to do menial tasks. I could sit on an Ovariates’ nest and care for the young while the wife worked. I could learn to cook and clean in any ship’s galley. Some of my potential buyers asked questions about the legalities of owning me. There seemed to be some concern about my age and status in relation to some unsavoury duties. When I heard what they were, I felt my face heat.
The guide led the crowd of buyers off to another stand. In the distance, I could hear him begin again. The other slave had nearly the same abilities that I had. The smells, the ooze, the colours bubbling like a cauldron of soup surrounded me. A tentacle wrapped around my ankle, having edged in under the restraining field. I think I screamed.
‘Get off me,’ I said through clenched teeth. I’m not sure what the alien was called. It was squat, looked like a plant and had 12 tentacles sticking out of its head, flopping around to look for things to touch. It was dark purple at the base and sickly yellow at the top.
I twisted my foot and tried to flick off its appendage. It groped my ankle some more. A bit of the yellow tentacle slid under the sole of my foot. I put pressure on, placing my weight on it. The string of yellow flesh quivered once and then slid away at lightning speed. When I looked up the little plant thingy was gone.
There weren’t any more reasonable-looking buyers in my aisle. More and more of the stands became empty. I felt vulnerable, standing there by myself. I thought I looked okay but evidently, I wasn’t very interesting to buyers of slaves.
I lowered my eyes, not wanting to see more and more of the others being led away. I wondered what would happen to me if I wasn’t purchased. What did they do with unwanted slaves? I had visions of myself floating in space, bloated, exploded, rotating in a slow circle as I drifted with the other space garbage. Didn’t that happen to Nel Wingham in the vidmovie, In Space There Is No Refuse?
My restraining field snapped off with a ping. Doing my best not to fall on my face, I looked around. I was about to flex my arms when armlets clicked into place and a tar-skinned humanoid dragged me off the stand. He tugged me along. My numb feet thumped the floor as he angled me through the crowd.
My repeated questions gained no answer. He was almost naked. I wondered whether he worked there or was a buyer? The shifting light played on his skin, showing a tracework of scars on his black, shiny skin all the way up to the top of his shaved head. He wore a short metal skirt and matching armlets high up on his biceps and that was it. His muscles wobbled and bulged as he walked. He spun round abruptly and I caught sight of his eyes. These were inorganic and glowed a sickly green. I couldn’t repress my start of surprise. He grabbed me by the armlets, spun me and pushed me roughly through a hatchway. I tumbled and fell backwards, cracking my head on the bulkhead. It didn’t knock me out, but it left me feeling very woozy.