by Ben Hale
Siena finished erasing the evidence of Kensen’s fall and stood. Extending a hand to him, she helped him to his feet, and they threaded their way down the vaulted corridor to the kitchens. Entering, Siena blinked at the haze of steam and slipped past two cooks to the rear of the room, where she discarded the cleaning scrubber.
Laurik liked her food prepared by hand, rather than mech, and several older mechs sat in the corner, collecting dust. Men and women labored over counters, one of which was red-hot. Plates of prepared food were placed on it and cooked in seconds before they were given to the girls serving Laurik and her guests. Everywhere Siena looked, she saw the color purple. It marked the walls, the plates, even the slave earrings and clothing.
Kensen tightened the bandage on his arm. “We’re almost done with our shift. You want to sneak out early and watch the cargo ships drop out of orbit?”
“You already got burned once today, and you want to risk a second?”
He grinned. “Was that a yes?”
The offer was tempting. And it was unlikely they would get caught. Siena had been sneaking around Laurik’s home for years and knew all the places to hide. She glanced to the cooks and servers, but they were too busy to notice their conversation.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll slip out,” she said.
Kensen did not respond, and he nudged her in the elbow. She noticed the fear in his eyes, and dread instantly clenched her gut. She rotated slowly, not wanting to draw attention to herself, and found the entire kitchen was silent.
Laurik stood in the doorway, her mere presence freezing everyone in the kitchen. She surveyed the room like a predator choosing which prey to consume, and Siena worked to keep her scowl from showing on her features. Of all the krey she’d met, it was Secondous Laurik she hated the most.
The woman was small for a krey, hardly the height of a human. Her purple eyes were exotic and apparently attractive to krey males, but there was a hard edge to her jawline that repulsed humans and dakorians, a hint of the cruel nature lurking beneath her honeyed voice. In a flowing dress and a purple cloak, with color strips shimmering and fading in mesmerizing patterns, her mere entrance made all the slaves look to their feet. In the ensuing hush, Laurik’s gaze passed over Siena and Kensen.
Laurik casually drew a short, thin rod from a pouch along her waist and tapped it in her palm. All eyes watched the movement of the inflicting rod. Most krey preferred to burn slaves with the holoview embedded in their arms, but Laurik favored the older model, a length of seracrete with a crystal on the end. Laurik relished the fear caused by an inflicting rod.
“If our meal does not appear by the time I return to my seat,” she said, “one of you will leave this kitchen in the same manner the food arrived.”
All eyes flicked to the carcass occupying the enormous central table. The horned beast was as large as a dakorian, with meat so savory and light it actually helped the krey stay thin. The quent had arrived frozen and lifeless, caught just two days ago by hunters on the northern continent of Verdigris. The threat was real.
Be on time, or the girl would be killed.
Laurik swept from the room, leaving the girl trembling. The servers worked feverishly to carry the plates out of the room and to the table, where the woman was entertaining Olana Kel’Ray, an ally to Laurik, as well as other nobles of House Zeltil’Dor.
House Zeltil’Dor was currently ranked sixteenth—not bad, considering they only owned Verdigris and four other worlds. The purple-eyed House was known for their mining enterprises, but it was well known that Laurik wanted to get into the slave trade. Siena suspected it was only good business, considering Laurik spent a great deal on replacing slaves.
In a rush, the serving girls and boys carried steaming platters out the door. Siena caught a glimpse of the other nobles at the table with Laurik, including a few of her siblings.
“She’s in a mood,” a serving girl said, returning from the banquet hall. “But all the plates are out.”
“Better get started on dessert,” the head cook said, waving at the stripped quent carcass. “Get the beast out of here.”
Before they endured any more damage, Siena and Kensen slipped out of the kitchens and hurried down the long corridor back to their slave quarters. Kensen ran his hands through his black hair.
“Maybe we should siphon from her bottles of drey,” he said.
She snorted a laugh. “Why not slap her in the face?”
“Your idea’s better.”
“Since when are you rebellious?” She gave him an appraising look.
He tapped his chin. “It’s an acquired trait. I wonder where I get it from?” His eyes drifted to her, and he smiled.
A voice came from the end of the hall, and they both ducked into a side corridor. Two krey appeared, both sons of Laurik. The elder was Bensin, and the younger brother was Dorlik. Bensin had inherited his mother’s cruel twist to his features, while Dorlik had inherited his father’s height and wide shoulders.
“We should broach the subject with Olana Kel’Ray tonight,” Bensin was arguing. “Laurik has increased the value of our stock tenfold. If we can expand what she has done across Verdigris, our value would triple.”
Dorlik jerked his head. “We have a hundred thousand slaves across four continents. Someone will figure out our secret, and then Laurik’s plan will be meaningless.”
“They’re slaves,” Bensin scoffed. “They’re not smart enough to notice.”
“They’re smarter than you think,” Dorlik replied.
The two rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, their voices fading. Hidden behind a statue of Laurik, Siena frowned, curious as to what they had been discussing. Then she suddenly became aware of Kensen’s hand on the small of her back, a casual placement, as the two of them were hiding in the shadow behind the statue. She looked up and met his eyes, and he blinked as if suddenly realizing their proximity. They were so close she could feel his breath on her lips and see the touch of yearning appear in his eyes. He began to lean in, his lips brushing against hers. She flinched away, retreating to the openness of the corridor.
“What’s wrong?” Kensen asked.
“We can’t do this,” Siena said.
“It was just a kiss,” he said. “And I thought that you felt the same as—”
“I don’t.”
She leveled the lie like a club and buried the burgeoning desire, shackling it deep inside her chest. Confusion and then hurt appeared in his features, and she retreated to the windows, turning to survey the valley.
Laurik’s home extended outward from a mountain, the entire structure clinging to the sheer face of the cliff. The valley below contained the largest mining complex on Verdigris, and smoke curled up from tunneling lasers, the mechs ancient compared to the newer lances. Great bins with gravity repulsors, all loaded with raw ore, rose in a column to reach the ships in geosynchronous orbit. The mountains of ore would be refined down to the gatlenian crystals, the rare element capable of creating a portal through space. The charged crystals came from deep in a planet’s core, where the tremendous heat and pressure shaped the crystals over millions of years. They were the primary export of Verdigris.
Surrounding the mine, the rocky hills and natural vegetation carried vibrant blues and greens, giving the planet its name. Most of the slaves in Zeltil’Dor worked the mines across the globe, as the planet was small enough to have weaker gravity than larger worlds like Mylttium. And Siena had often heard Laurik and her children talk about the export business, usually as she served their meals.
Siena’s gaze lifted to the stars. She’d seen the map of the Empire Bensin kept in his quarters, the hologram depicting the thousands of occupied worlds, as well as their current owners and status in the Empire. Siena had not been born on Verdigris and had never traveled in a starship. She scratched her left wrist, where the curled hook and spike tattoo revealed her flawed genome.
“I don’t understand,” Kensen said quietly.
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br /> “We are slaves,” she said, the words bitter on her tongue. “You could be sold tomorrow, and I would never see you again.”
“All the more reason to be together while we can.”
She shook her head. “You told me your father was sold before you were even born, and your mother within a month of your birth. You were raised by five different givers.”
“You had six.”
She knew the faces of all her givers—women that cared for children not from their own womb. She even remembered Ilia, the one that had cared for her for her first three years of life. Siena recalled her soft hugs and words, the images hazy, but unforgettable. Then one day she’d disappeared, and the next giver had stepped in, lasting a month before she was gone. One by one, the women in the slave quarters had cared for her, all shouldering the mantle of giver. All had carried a legacy of sadness in their features. It wasn’t until Siena was older that she realized why. Their children had been sold, and Siena was a proxy. They were all proxies.
“One of my givers talked about House Ruath’Is, and she said they let families stay together,” Kensen said.
“A myth.” She ground her hand against the wall below the window, feeling the smooth texture. The Lorenwhite wall—insisted upon by Laurik—absorbed dirt and never got dusty. The krey liked to hide behind cleanliness, as if it would obscure the canker in their souls.
“What if we could get to Ruath’Is?” he asked.
She rotated to face him. “What are you talking about?”
“If we could get Laurik to sell us—together. Then maybe we can be purchased by Ruath’Is.”
She thrust her tattooed wrist into his face. “Have you forgotten my genome? Yours is near perfect. I’m never going anywhere.”
“We could do it.” Kensen’s gaze was light, his smile soft. “I know we could.”
A spark of hope ignited in her chest, but she squashed it with a savage burst of truth. Keeping her distance from Kensen, she slowly shook her head. Then she turned and walked away.
“Slaves should not have hope.”
Kensen didn’t respond or follow, and Siena left without looking back. She wended her way down into structure and then south, into the mountain. The bright walls, broad windows, and holographic decorations gave way to stark stone walls and bare seracrete beams.
Slaves shuffled past her, some returning from a shift in the house, others just starting their labor. They talked in muted tones, laughing and gossiping about each other and the krey. She passed the cramped quarters of the overseer. Adjacent to that was the new wailroom, where children under six spent most of their lives, out of sight and out of hearing by the krey. Several women cared for the young, all volunteer givers.
She continued through the open quarters of men and women, kept separate for obvious reasons. Although the krey wanted their stock to propagate, romantic entanglements created too many complications. She threaded her way to the female quarters.
Racks of beds, stacked four high with ladders to reach the upper beds, lined the chamber. Older children scrubbed and cleaned the room, and washed the clothes and dishes. At age twelve, they began to work in the house, and by eighteen, slaves began their labor in the mines. If Siena survived until then, she would probably be sent into the mines with those her age.
Many of the slaves talked and laughed, but some were sullen and withdrawn, their expression showing a life of labor. Others glanced about with fear and loneliness. Newcomers, probably purchased in the last week, all carried the scent of soap and clean clothes. Laurik required cleanliness.
She reached the back of the room, where a locked door led to the maintenance supply room. It hadn’t been used since Felis had left, and it had gradually filled up with unused and broken bed frames and couches.
She removed a section of the door’s paneling and wormed her way into the chamber. She shut the panel behind her and climbed a ladder. On top of where the conduits had been, she’d built a hiding spot. There she reclined on a threadbare mattress she’d managed to squeeze through the hole.
She gazed into the maze of pipes and power threads and muttered in the dark, “Slaves should not have hope.”
Chapter Seven
Siena awoke to a distant voice calling her name. She lurched to her feet, nearly falling out of her perch. At the last moment, with her blood thumping in her ears, she caught the handle of the ladder.
Scrambling down the steps, she shifted the secret opening and climbed into the slave quarters. Just as she replaced the panel, she heard her name again, the speaker’s voice angry and forceful.
“Siena 3115!”
She gulped as she heard her whole name, then darted out and hurried along the stacks of beds. When she turned between two of them, she found Overseer Gent barreling toward her. The woman’s eyes flashed with fury as she leveled an accusing finger at Siena.
“You are late for your shift,” she said. “Where have you been?”
“I was sick,” Siena replied. “But I feel better now.”
Slipping around the pudgy woman, Siena tried to escape, but the overseer caught her shoulder and pressed gnarled fingers into her collarbone.
The woman leaned down to hold Siena’s gaze. “One more infraction and I’ll have you sent to the mines. Do you have any idea how much the slaves suffer down there?”
“Not as much as we suffer with you as overseer,” Siena retorted.
The woman’s eyes widened, but Siena pulled herself free and sprinted the length of chamber. Gent’s shouts echoed in her ears, but Siena smothered a laugh. Overseers always liked to strut and boast in their authority, but the krey overlords never listened to them, especially Laurik.
Siena entered the hanging home and rushed to a closet set at the base of the house. There she collected her tools, a sack, and a straight, sharpened section of metal that resembled a dakorian sunderblade, albeit much smaller.
She and Kensen usually worked together. Most of the week they cleaned sections of the house that lacked the Lorenwhite walls, but every fifth day they hunted roaks. With hardened shells and sharp pincers, the creatures could grow to the size of her forearm, and they infested the entire planet. The insects always found a way into the house, and at the mere sight of one, Laurik would burn the nearest slave.
Most of the slaves hated roak duty, while Siena relished the task. The bugs were disgusting, of course, but for an entire day, she and Kensen climbed through walls and crevasses, hunting.
Snatching a bag of food she’d stashed in the room for just such an occasion, Siena munched on cold tenils—a thick yet hearty substance with a mealy texture. At least she’d had the sense to spice the liquid.
She darted down rarely used halls to reach her appointed meeting place, but skidded to a halt when she found a newcomer standing in Kensen’s usual spot. The boy looked to be about thirteen, his shaggy brown hair hanging down to his eyes. He shifted on his feet and wrung his hands on the striker tool.
“You’re late,” he said.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Quis 8932,” he replied.
“Where’s Kensen?”
The boy shrugged, his eyes darting about, taking in the halls. Just purchased. Probably his first time on Verdigris. Probably his second planet ever. But where was Kensen?
He rarely missed a hunting day. Had he been sold? A possibility, but Siena doubted that—not in a single night. More likely he was avoiding her after she’d rebuffed his affections in the upper hall. The explanation seemed plausible, and she resolved to find him and settle the issue after hunting.
Annoyed at Kensen, and unable to shake a lingering worry, she showed Quis how to handle the striker blade. Then she told him to follow her into the first of the storage rooms lining the base of the hanging home.
“What’s wrong with your genome?” He pointed to her wrist.
Distracted, she shrugged. “Something to do with my heart.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” she said. “But t
hey made it sound like I’ll die at a young age.”
“Oh.”
The forlorn look on his face made Siena reach out and tousle his hair. “Don’t worry. The krey don’t know everything.”
He brightened. “Really? My mother made it sound like the krey were all powerful.”
“Hardly. They may be capable of living forever, but they’re just as petty and stupid as everyone else.” Siena paused at the next door, a storeroom. “Wait, you actually knew your mother?”
“I was born in House Ruath’Is,” he said proudly. “I stayed with my mother until I was twelve.”
“So it’s true?” she asked. “They do keep families together?” She wondered what Kensen would say to that.
“Mothers stay with children,” he said. “Usually fathers.”
They searched the storeroom, and Siena lifted a crate to check beneath. “I never knew mine. I was born somewhere else, and Laurik bought me when I was a baby. I’m told she was furious when she found out about my genome. I guess the traders she bought from had skipped my genetic testing.”
A small bug burst from beneath a cabinet, and Quis yelped. Siena stomped it with her boot before it could escape and then removed it to clean the guts out of the tread.
“Was that a roak?”
“A baby,” Siena said. “We’ll see bigger.”
Quis shuddered. “House Ruath’Is had mechs that hunted roaks. I rarely saw one.”
Siena smacked the boot to remove the last of the shell pieces and then pulled it back on her foot. “Don’t worry. It’s more fun than it sounds.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” he said dubiously.
She grinned and tousled his hair again, deciding he was a good kid. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
She’d been on roak duty for years, so she knew it well. She guided Quis into the darker corners and recesses of each room. The first several proved empty, so they moved on to the guest quarters. Behind a bed in the second room, she heard a scrabbling and raised her striker.
