Slave World 2 - The Ties That Bind (3 page)

What a mistake that had been. Nathan had tried to talk me out of it, and I should have listened to him, because he knew exactly what would happen. I guess when you live in a secluded paradise away from the ugly reality of the rest of the world…

I’d walked the neat and orderly permaplast streets, silently clinging to Nathan the entire time. Past all the vendors and shops with their living display signs, slaves in compromising positions meant to entice, as well as humiliate and degrade. Past the numerous brokerage houses and the never-ending misery they contained. Past the elegantly dressed landowners that eyed Nathan and I with something akin to loathing disgust and even open hatred. Their slave-pets were in tow, cuffed and on leashes most times. The visual appearance of some was meant to display the wealth status of the owners, or simply the innate beauty of their property. Others were used for their size and strength, as common pack animals.

Most of the Landowners went out of their way to avoid us in the passing, like we had some sort of contagious disease. The thing was that I did have a disease in a way; I was a pony, which meant I was a former slave and the incurable disease I carried with me was freedom. Maybe if I’d been naked and in chains we wouldn’t have drawn so much attention, but I doubt it. Everyone knew about the uprising on the old Savota Ranch and that Nathan had set all of us free- you can’t keep something like that a secret on Slave World. They feared him and the dangerous change in the status quo that he’d brought about by openly snubbing them – it threatened their entire way of life. Word may spread. Others may try. Could a slave be completely trusted now? Was a slave ever trusted, I wondered? By some, maybe in the past, but not any longer. I could only shudder in thought at the harsh repercussions befallen my brothers and sisters, because of what Nathan had done.

A few of the faceless Landowners eyed me hungrily though, those who had been at Donna’s birthday party when I was first presented to her. Many of those same guests had touched me, wanting to purchase me from Michael, my old Master, and the man who brought me here. They had seen what I could do, what I became when under the undeniable influence of my remote – those select few watched me like a prize piece of meat in a display case. I’d done my best to look the other way and turn a blind eye to the disturbing sights around me, wishing I were home. The problem was that I couldn’t.

It was like looking out over a sea of perverse leather and depraved nudity. I even saw other slaves like myself, at least on the outside. Apparently Michael wasn’t the only one who owned ponies and other animal slaves, but there was a world of difference between us. I was free and they were members of chariot teams pulling two-wheeled carts, while their Masters or Mistresses rode in comfort behind them cracking buggy whips against jiggling asses, or in some cases heavily scarred backs. I’d cringed at the sound, and my heart went out to them in a way most people will never understand. My place on this world could have very easily been reversed, if not for a hand of fate cutting me some slack for a change.

If only… We’re getting wet, so wet…

I think the sprawling open-air auction market, with its utter disregard for humanity and decency, had been the worst. Terrified faces…incessant sobbing through tear-streaked eyes… the look of utter despair and helpless surrender. It was by far worse than anything I had experienced at the Holloway Trading House when I was sold.

Potential slaves, both male and female, were displayed in numerous ways, publicly whipped, tested for pain tolerance, suspended and bound in demeaning positions to be used, and possibly broken spiritually forever by the numerous clients sampling the sea of naked wares for their personal amusement. Without realizing it, I’d fallen under a horrible spell from the heinous vulgarity arrayed before me, responding intuitively to distant commands – my hands slipped behind my back, and I’d lowered my head, ready to serve. Worst of all I’d grown wet; the sordid moisture quickly soaked through my flimsy panties, pussy clenching reflexively in expectation, as my body prepared itself to be used. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to drop to my knees and…

Thankfully Nathan pulled me away from the market before I slipped that far. In time I noticed the grim darkness in his eyes, and the corner of his upper lip was twitching. That was bad; a stress related quirk he’d brought home from the war. He hadn’t liked what he saw, not from me or at the marketplace.

Nathan had brought a side arm with him to Port City, not that he really needed it, but the fact that he had concerned me from the very beginning. I knew the other Landowners didn’t like him, but would they actually try to kill him? Either way a gun in the hands of a pissed-off Marine in a hostile environment left very few possible outcomes, and none of them were good.

The vast majority of the other Landowners in town hadn’t been armed, thankfully, but that didn’t mean they were defenseless. There were security police scattered everywhere, but it was the sentry drones armed with both lethal and non-lethal weaponry that kept the peace, or handled the rare instance of an uncontrollable slave. We seemed to have a significant number of them shadowing us from the moment we’d entered town. Maybe they were expecting trouble out of Nathan, or maybe they were just scared; I would be after hearing about the battle at the Ranch, and I’m sure wild rumors had blown it out of proportion. It really made me wonder that if something did happened or if Nathan snapped, and he looked about as close to it as I could remember in a long time, how long he’d be able to hold off the swarm of drones. Even a wolf pack can take down a bear, if given enough time.

Slave World… so much evil, amongst so much beauty. Everything it stands for, everything that goes on here is wrong as far as decent society is concerned yet it was my home, and the birthplace of my new life. Was it wrong for me to embrace it for my own self-indulgent desires? I had from the very beginning, because it was the best thing that had ever happened in my life, despite all the shit I’d put up with along the way. Who was I before coming here? A teenage runaway and recovering drug addict? A whore who had wasted away what should have been a brilliant Fleet career with meaningless sex at every opportunity? I had been a lonely, unhappy, and emotionally unstable woman who could barely stand to look at herself in the mirror.

Yes we were, and I loved running the show all those years, but look at us now… so pretty, so perfect… so fucking sexy. Just imagine all the fun we could have, if you let me, but instead you’d rather play the good wife for a man who doesn’t even appreciate our potential.

Why am I starting to cry? Because it’s true, that’s exactly who I’d been.

I’m a completely different person now, after what Michael and his doctor did to me, what they’d turned me into. I’m a stranger to myself, and maybe that’s what I like most of all – my thoughts, dreams, everything was new to me, not to mention exciting in an odd sort of way. Some of them made me wonder if I was even human any longer.

Stop being coy, you know the answer to that. We’re a human pony now, and we’re changing. You can feel it getting stronger just like I can, and I want it! I’m not going to be able to take a back seat in our lives for much longer, so you better get your head in the game before I do it for you, before I start being naughty. My time is coming again, Margo, the new and improved me whether you want it to or not. After I do, there won’t be any coming back.

Horses… I dream about horses a lot now, more so than before, and not necessarily of them, but of being one. Whinnying, I can’t help it any longer, and maybe I don’t want to. The hyperactive sexual responses, the desire to run free and naked under the sun, to simply serve and nothing else… I secretly craved those moments from sun up, till sun down. It’s like starting my life over again from scratch with a clean slate. Go figure… Well, maybe that’s not completely true. I could blame my recent mood swings, especially in the last few weeks on many different things, but in the end, I think it all boiled down to closure. I still have one old score to settle.

An unexpected result of my trip into Port City was our upcoming departure from Slave World. I don’t how he did it, but Carlos Mandolin, my old Cartel employer, found out where I was. I never got a good look at the guy he hired to deliver the message, before he vanished back into the crowd after shoving the vid stick in the palm of my hand in passing. How he knew it was me beneath my pony modification remains a mystery, not to mention the timing of the whole thing; what were the odds of him finding me like this on the one and only time I’d left the ranch since I’d arrived on Slave World? Of course, my suspicions had run high until I listened to the message in private; it was Carlos all right, and he’d taken great pains to give me what he called a professional courtesy for one of his old ‘family’ members. He told me where I could find Quinn; the man who had taken everything from me that I once held dear, and in doing so, find my old ship. I’ll never forget Carlos for that.

The entire message got me thinking about a lot of things, things and people I hadn’t thought about in over a year. John, my one time companion and dearest friend happened to be one of them. He’s dead now, and I do see it that way, murdered by Quinn simply to make a point. It was then that I discovered I still loved him in a way, and probably always will.

That’s because John didn’t judge us; he didn’t call us ugly, or pathetic, or worthless, or make fun of us. But then again, you were all those things before I came along, weren’t you? I saved us! I was the strong one! You’re nothing without me! You never have been, and never will be.

I don’t care what anyone says, even if I did have the courage to tell them that I had feelings for a synthetic; John had been there for me during some of the darkest moments of my life and I’ll never forget that. That’s more than I can say for most people.

Of course, I couldn’t tell Nathan the truth, and it would be my burden to live with. Knowing what I do about him, he just wouldn’t understand.

What’s one more lie in a lifetime full of lies? Do it, he’ll only laugh at you like all the others if you tell him the truth.

It had taken a lot of sweet-talking, pouting, and even an uncommon, naughty temper tantrum before Nathan finally started taking the idea of going after my ship seriously, but in the end it was finally settled. We were going after my beloved ship, The Space Tramp, and it was end of story as far as he was concerned. In truth, I did want my ship back, I’d put a lot of money into that rust bucket over the years, and it was the one thing in the world that I could truly call mine.

Nathan still wasn’t keen on the idea and I can’t blame him; we were taking a huge risk to recover an out of date freighter that could easily be replaced by a newer and much nicer model. He offered to buy me a new one, what a sweetheart, but you can’t put a price tag on sentimental value, or the fact that recovering my ship was a secondary objective when compared to my covert thirst for revenge.

I’m crying again, dammit, and I wiped away a tear from the slow burning snarl on my face that could freeze blood if given the chance.

I’m going to hurt them, Margo. I’m going to make them suffer and bleed for taking our ship! I’m going to gouge out their eyes for selling us into slavery! I’m going to look into their face and smile when they breathe their dying breath.

Don’t worry, John, wherever you are. I’ll make Quinn pay for what they did to you – for what they did to the both of us.

It was mid-morning by the time Nathan and I finished loading the last of our gear, most of it military in nature, into his private jump shuttle. It was a Daimler Nova SL, a variant of their executive series, designed to carry a total of four passengers and two crewmembers. The Nova was top of the line as far as personal spacecraft went, coming standard with a wet bar, whirlpool, and a full service galley so a personal chef could prepare nothing but the best food for its owners. The debutantes of society couldn’t be expected to dine solely on replicator food, now could they? It’s no surprise that Nathan had removed these plush, creature-comfort amenities right after purchasing it.

I wouldn’t say Nathan is spoiled compared to how much money his family actually has. From what I had seen thus far, his shuttle was about the only thing that would come close to it in my opinion. It reminded me more of a big kid’s toy, and the changes he’d made to it over the years reflected his personal tastes: a personal gym, a small den for watching movies, and a holographic display shooting range. And Nathan wouldn’t be Nathan if he didn’t give it a serious weapons upgrade, along with an enhanced armor and shield package – better safe than sorry, and you can never have too much firepower in the event that the shit hits the fan.

A friendly call from behind made me smile, and I quickly walked across the landing grid to greet Donna and Cirus. Donna looked like she was in one of her ‘happy’ moods at the moment, radiant and very pregnant. As always, it was hard to keep my grin from turning into outright laughter when I saw her. It wasn’t that I was laughing at her, but I sure as hell did laugh right along with her. She was so upbeat and still a little simple minded, making every expression, every gesture, every over-anxious word all the funnier. On the reverse, she still ‘freaked out’ every so often, growing dark and serious, contemptuous and mean to all the old slaves and outright deadly if you knew what to look for. It was on days like that when she went to the shooting range and wouldn’t come back until late that night. We all pretty much learned to leave her alone when she was like that, even Cirus. The only person she would willingly associate with was Nathan. To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure if I really liked the ‘old’ Donna all that much; at times like that she reminded me of every other snobby, nose in the air Landowner on Slave World.