Even my bath soaps are of rare and expensive makes. I pick up a cake that's shaped like a rare jewel from trandashi lands. It stinks, but the soap itself is expensive, so I've just gotten into a habit of using it. It's my mother's favorite. I turn the cake in my hand, considering it, then throw it across the room.
It makes a thoroughly unsatisfying splat on the wall. As it does, the wall panel lights up. "I'm sorry," the AI chirps. "I didn't understand your request, Lord Straik."
"Kef off," I snarl, sinking into the water again. My tail flicks against the surface and I scowl, feeling like a sulky boy.
How many slaves were sold to finance this ridiculously sized tub I'm lounging in? To finance my ship? How many were stolen away from their homelands and sold into drudgery so I could have keffing stupid soaps that smell like keffing flowers? I hate flowers.
Right now, actually, I hate everything.
I glare at the water, my tattoos just visible under the surface. I'd poured oil into the bath, and then I'd stopped and thought about the oil. And the bath. And the soap. And everything else.
It's been eating at me for days now.
The proud sa'Rin family are slavers. My family's wealth? From slavery. Everything I own? Paid for on the backs of slaves.
It's…disgusting.
I knew our family had credit problems when I was younger. My mother was always insanely jealous that the head of the Rin House, Lord va'Rin, was swimming in wealth while our branch of the family struggled with inherited debts. It's not uncommon for some old, respected Homeworld families to have debts, but I assumed ours were taken care of because after a while, the worries about funds just…drifted away. Anytime I've asked for anything in my life, it was granted without a second thought.
And now…well.
Now I'm just another keffing Homeworlder with filthy hands.
I growl in frustration, finally getting out of the tub and drying off. The towel is fluffy and soft, of the finest make, and I'm torn between flinging it away from me and actually using it, since the credits have already been spent. Getting angry at a towel now solves nothing. All of my anger solves nothing.
But I need answers of some kind.
I need to understand why. I need to understand how long this has gone on. I need to understand exactly what it entails and how deep the sa'Rin family is into this nightmare.
Maybe it's not too late to pull us out of this…shame.
I'm already knee-deep into it. I towel off, my head full of noise as I think about the faces of the va Sithai brothers when they discovered I abandoned them on the Buoyant Star.
I just…I can't let news of the Star get out and sink my family into shame.
I thought when I was hunting the missing ship down that it'd be full of silks. Isn't that how we make our credits, after all? Isn't that what I've always been told? That an expensive shipment of silks and spices was lost en route to its location, and the cost to our shipping business was staggering. That the amount in the Star's belly would be enough to buy several small planets. As someone newer to piracy and looking to establish my reputation (more than the rumors I've paid to have spread, of course), it seemed like the perfect quest. And initially, I was elated to find the Star. Not only would the recovery of the ship be a fantastic boon to my family's fortunes, but the cargo would ensure that my name was legendary. Didn't matter if I had to split the wealth with the va Sithai. There would be more than enough to go around.
I hadn't counted on the cargo hold being full of slaves. Of humans and gladiators, all waiting in stasis pods, ready to be sold. Nor had I counted on four witnesses—three humans and a keffing qura'aki of all things—who knew the entire sordid tale of how the Star came to be carrying slaves. How the crew—my family's crew—had been using the slaves as bed-warmers.
My stomach lurches and I grit my teeth.
So I left them all behind. Snuck out during sleeping hours to try and figure this mess out. This way, I know where everyone is, and I am the only one. This way, no one can go rogue and spread the information to others. The humans can't be sold. The ship can't be hauled away by other pirates and scrapped. The va Sithai brothers will be furious at me, but I don't care.
I need to speak to Lord va'Rin, the head of my family's house. I need to understand this. All of this.
And once I've figured out my course of action, I'll return to the Star and take care of business.
With that little pep talk, I dry my sac and climb into my oversized bed…and just as quickly climb out again. Keffing silken sheets. I should ask if we have anything less…ostentatious. I won't be able to sleep in luxury until I figure my head out.
2
RUTH
I gaze down at the alien drying his balls from inside the air vents above his room.
I've watched him for days now. Sulky, pouty brat of a lordling. I hate him. Just like I hate this ship. And outer space. And every single alien. Well…almost every single alien. The red-skinned a'ani are nice enough.
I keep utterly quiet, hunched in the crawlspace in the ceiling above as he lies down in bed, makes a face, and then gets up again. After a moment, he lies on the floor instead, and I want to roll my eyes at his martyrdom. Please. Does he think that's going to ease his conscience from leaving the others behind?
I hate lots of things, but I hate this Straik asshole most of all.
Ever since I woke up from the stasis sleep, I've been filled with rage. Rage at the asshole aliens that groped me like I belonged to them. Rage at the fact that I've been stolen from my planet, along with the other frightened women. Rage that my head is full of fragments instead of whole memories. I'm angry at everything, and I don't know if I was like this back on Earth, too, or if the rage is because sleeping did something to my head and now I can't remember things that I should.
My current favorite thing to rage at? That while I was conducting a spy mission on the enemy ship, it took off. Just left the others behind and stole me away while I was hiding in the ducts.
I've been hiding in these ducts for almost a week now, and it hasn't helped my mood at all.
But I know how to survive. Cautiously, I extend one leg out, stretching it from my cramped position, and I wince when the thin metal creaks and groans. A quick glance down into Straik's palatial rooms shows that he's noticed, too. He gazes up at the ceiling thoughtfully, his hands behind his horned head. He frowns up at my precise location, and I wonder if he can see me. I entertain thoughts of busting through the honeycomb-like grates (somehow) and pouncing on him and just beating the crap out of his pouty face.
"Ship," the lordling calls out.
"Yes, Lord Straik?" the computer chirps out, sounding like a woman eager to please her man. Barf.
"Make a note for maintenance to check the ductwork in the morning." He yawns. "And for them to change the filters." With that, he closes his eyes again and turns on his side, using his arm as a pillow as he sleeps on the floor.
Well, so I'm safe for another day. Tomorrow I'll have to deal with maintenance, but that's Dopekh, and I can handle Dopekh. I gaze down at the comfortable room below. The bed is enormous and looks incredibly soft, the sheets tangled and inviting. I watched him bathe earlier, too, and all that scented water made my mouth water as well as it made me aware of just how dirty I am. The Star didn't have bathtubs. It had these molecule things that blasted you clean, but it wasn't very refreshing. But that water…