Physically, they looked very similar to human men, but they were just … bigger and more exotic.
They both wore the same raven black armour-plated suits. The only visible skin I could see was on their face and only because they had removed their helmets and tucked them under their arms. I dropped to my knees before them, placed my hands on my thighs, lowered my gaze to their black combat booted feet, and waited. Traffickers liked to inspect anything they might purchase.
Most of them always pressed to sample Master’s slaves, but he never allowed that. The one time he did allow it, one of the traffickers didn’t buy the slave, and a few weeks after he left, we found out she was pregnant. Master felt like he was played by that trafficker, and he killed the pregnant slave in a fit of rage. He learned from that mistake and only let the traffickers visually inspect his slaves. No touching was allowed below our torsos.
A trafficker could lose a hand if they tried. Many had tried and paid the price for it.
“This here is Levi,” Master boasted. “She’s twenty-one years old, very healthy, has all of her teeth with not a one of them showin’ signs of rot. She also has nay parasites and is a virgin. She is very submissive, one of me finest if I do say so meself. D’ye like her?”
There was a prolonged moment of silence, then a deep voice spoke in strained English.
“She … is a … fine fe-female.”
I felt sick when Master chuckled. “That she is, I ‘ave me many slaves that look like her … some with darker skin, some with lighter. I even ‘ave me a pregnant Southern Eastern Asian bitch. That’s a breed of humans close t’extinction, so a’course, she comes with a mighty nice price tag, as ye can imagine.”
Master always made us slaves sound like we were cattle, and when I paused to think about it, I figured that the description was correct. Cattle were bred for a purpose and so were slaves. We looked different from each other, but our fate was the same. We would always have a master and would never know what it would be like to taste freedom outside of our pen.
Our home was called The Farm for a reason.
“Is she … a fe-female who … ‘ould ‘ike to ‘ome … to Ealra?”
I had never heard of this “ale-rah” before, and I wondered if it was somewhere off-planet. I had never been off-planet before … I had never been outside of Master’s slave pen at The Farm. None of us had once we were put inside. I was born in the pen, for pity’s sake. The only time we made it out of the pen was when we were sold or traded.
“Oo is … she?” one of the aliens asked Master.
“She’s mine.”
“This is your fe-female?” The alien struggled to speak English. “Your mate? Why ’oes … she kneel at … your ’eet if she … is yours?”
“Because she done knows her place,” Master answered flatly. “That’s why, boy.”
I looked up just as the alien frowned, not liking Master’s reply in the slightest. That surprised me. Traffickers were cruel and harsh, and the majority of them enforced kneeling to ensure we knew we were beneath them.
“Would you not … let ’er ‘ome … with us ‘board the Ebony?”
“Make me an offer I canna refuse,” Master sneered. “‘Cause unless ye’ve got some hefty credits, she stays.”
The alien frowned. “You ‘ish to … to sell your fe-female?”
“For the right price.” Master shrugged. “Yeah.”
The two aliens shared a look, their obvious confusion and shock not going amiss.
“But she … is your female,” the tallest alien stressed. “You ‘annot … sell your fe-female.”
Master snorted. “For the right number of credits, I can.” He placed a hand on my bare shoulder, stroking his thumb back and forth. “‘Ave ye ever seen skin like hers? Ye could search far ‘n’ wide, and ye won’t come across nay other woman with skin so perfect, son. All the slaves in me pen are pretty, but this here girl is a wonder.”
I resisted the urge to glare up at Master.
He spoke of me like I was a jewel to always be protected and treasured, and he acted like he thought my skin colour was something beautiful, but I knew how he really felt about me. He hated me, and he hated the colour of my skin. He named me Mud for that very reason.
“Hu-Human male,” one of the aliens growled. “We do not … buy fe-females. We are here … on a serious re-rescue mission … for human fe-females.”
A rescue mission?
“What the hell are ye talkin’ about?” Master demanded. “What fuckin’ rescue mission?”
With a bellow, he told me to return to my side of the pen. I did so without hesitation. Mama was awake now and sitting up. Her arms went around me protectively the moment I was within her reach.
“Traffickers?”
I hesitated. “I don’t think so. They said they were on a rescue mission.”
The women closest to me heard what I had said and gasped with surprise.
“A rescue mission?” Mama repeated. “Who are they? What species?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “They were talking about some rescue mission to Master.”
“Tell me everything you heard, baby. Everything about them. Leave nothing out.”
“They look like humans, but they don’t at the same time. Their features are sharper, their body masses are bigger, they’re very tall and their skin is very different. One of them is blue, and the other has skin the colour of pretty silver-grey clouds. They looked most bizarre … but … but they did not seem like they wanted to harm us. They told Master they do not buy women. They said they were on a serious rescue mission to save human women.”
More gasps sounded around me as the others listened intently.
“Master told me to get back over here before they began explaining to him about the rescue mission they mentioned.”
Mama digested this information, then squeezed my hand. “You must go with them, my love.”
Alarmed, I said, “What?”
“If they are rescuing women, then you must go with them.”
I blinked. “Mama, Master will never let us go unless they pay credits, and they have no intention of doing that.”
She shook her head, then got up and moved forward as fast as her injured body would allow her. She was limping badly, but it didn’t halt her movements.
“What is it, Master?” she shouted. “What did they want?”
I saw the aliens stalking away from the entrance of the pen and back towards the dock in the distance where their craft was still in port. I could tell from their posture that they weren’t happy with how their conversation went with Master.
“To rescue human women!” Master shouted with manic laughter. “That craft is only a small rescue craft. Their main vessel is thousands of metres in length. Their species is called mah-jai, or somethin’, from the Acura Galaxy. Never heard of it, though.”
These Maji truly wanted to rescue us women.
I watched as my mother continued to advance on Master, and he paused, noticing it too. He was grinning at her. His gaze held filthy promises, but the look on his face changed when Mama charged at him and began physically attacking him. My heart pounded against my chest. I knew what Mama was doing. She was giving us a chance, our only chance, to escape this hell.