Wednesday, 1 September 2010

A Day In The Life

The gloom slowly fades as the artificial lighting is increased across the vast hanger bay to simulate another perfect morning. Distant echoes of morning prayers filter from congregations of commoners down the main public processions, and from private chapels high up in the walls overlooking the vast open canyons within the station. Smells of cooking begin to sift out from countless cafes and street vendors, from high class restaurants to the greasy spoons hidden down back alleys.

All this commotion has little effect on the sleeping form of a young lady, sharp shafts of light penetrate through the patterns in the thin curtains painting clear images on the far wall. Three soft taps are heard, a door silently sweeps open. They do not even register to the girl still alone in her mind, a small head appears around the door shortly followed by the body of a small Matari child, she walks across the room and draws open the curtains flooding light into the gloomy chamber. The child pads back to the doorway and retrieves a small hand cart which she guides back towards the bed, kneeling down she addresses the sleeping form softly as if not wishing to awaken her,
"Mistress Incarn8, Mistress Incarn8, morning has risen and I have your meal ready, Mistress?" her voice conveys a mixed message of an eagerness for her to rise with an almost hidden wish that she will not.

An arm emerges from the tangled bedclothes, a muttered curse and a low groan,
"What time is it child, can you not see I am sleeping?"

"Uughh Mistress it is past 10  and ..." the girl is frozen to the spot, a rabbit caught in headlights, the interruption stops the mumbling girl in her tracks,

"Leave the food here and go select my wardrobe, I shall be attending central today, so something suitably intimidating I think, go now", the arm waves dismissively towards the door, and the child quickly leaves, closing the door behind her.

The bedclothes remain motionless for a moment or two more, before a pair of legs emerge, one tanned bronze, well toned and healthy. The other is missing, replaced by a metallic prosthetic from just below the left knee, its slivered glimmer contrasts with the golden hue of the rest of her body, but she shines all over as if oiled or lit from within by some lantern. She regards the trolley briefly before padding, and clicking, across the marbled floor towards her wash room. The sounds of flowing water waft into the bedroom when the young slave girl returns with a second trolley, this one supporting an elaborate full length dress, headdress, a pair of scruffy black combat boots along with all the assorted undergarments and tools required to attach them to a body.

Fully three parts of an hour later, the young girl is again banished from the room as the older woman now ready to face the day, her hair, body and face made up to maintain an image of Amarrian power. Clad from neck to toe the dress screams out, "Yes I am female, but don't you dare treat me like one, I am strong, I am self assured, I am not a man and I don't care." A jet black bodice hides her true curves, yet supplies her with a respectable if discrete profile. Spilling from her shoulders and hips, a dark blood red cape and trailing skirts once again cover up and yet still accentuate her figure, hiding the truth and allowing you to imagine what you will. Her feet, hidden behind the heavy hem line of her skirts, are clad in most definitely not feminine combat boots, thick and heavy they provide a sturdy base for her to pile her image around.

Taking a mechanised walkway to the central district Evil stands gripping the support frame lightly with one satin clad hand. Staring into the distance on not object in particular with her straight black hair streaming behind her as she is whisked along the increasingly busy route. Stepping lightly from the platform, the glove is peeled off and discarded, almost instantly it is collected by one of the stations army of cleanerbots which scuttles back into a small opening in the wall clutching its prize.
Making rapid progress along narrower streets now, her attire is beginning to blend in with more and more of the locals as the incomes and apartment prices begin to soar. Not so much as glancing into the shops and fashionable boutiques lining the route she suddenly stops short causing others matching her pace to avoid the new obstacle.

Turning she looks at the name above the stall that has caught her eye, 'Rigel's Labour Bazzar', it was a simple slave market, tarted up and trying its best to look respectable true, but a slave market all the same. Quite what it was doing on such a prominent street was another matter entirely to the one aspect that had caught her eye deep in the gloom. There was the usual mass lists of Brutor available for hard labour displayed on vid screens along the one wall, no one bothered displaying an example of them as they were more trouble than it was worth to have in polite society.
Along the back and opposite walls there were displayed the house broken sebestors and other members of the less physically able tribes where looks and condition mattered to a potential owning family. Tagged to each cage was an info screen proving genetic stability, training received, expected years of service remaining and all the usual information required by the intelligent shopper, but none of this was what Evil had homed in on.

At the far end next to a particularly old and haggard looking Vherokior cook was a separate cage containing only one example of a young girl who was curled up on the floor dressed in what would take a significant stretch of imagination to describe as rags. Evil stood next to the cage looking down on the girl she realised what had caught her eye, the girl was not Sebestor, nor even Vherokior as she first appeared, she wasn't even Matari, turning to the wizened old man who evidently was Rigal from the way watched every customer come and go,
"Hey, store man get over here," the sharp tone of authority cut straight through to muscle response skipping any thought process the man may have had,

"What is it my dear?" croaked the old man, "You like the look of this one, ehh?"

"Cut the sales talk Rigel, what in Gods good name are you doing with a Jin-Mei in your store? you did know that didn't you? she is from the Federation you know, have you any idea how much trouble that could cause you?" the barrage of questions seemed to confuse the old man, before his eyes widened signaling he had finally got around the concept.

"She is a Gallante? but I don't understand, she came in with the shipment just like all the others" the man began to stumble over his words, "I just put her out here as I thought she looked prettier than the usual ones, I was expecting quite a good price on her"

"Well of course she looks prettier you stupid, blind old man she isn't Matari" the severity of the snapped response was like a slap in the face, and the man visibly reeled from it. "As for getting a good price, HA, you will be lucky to avoid time before the council." Letting her threats settle in she pauses to watch the child again, still curled up, it is obvious that she is now awake and aware of the argument, although whether she spoke enough High Amarrian to catch its meaning Evil couldn't be sure.

"So, what can I do? I have to get rid of her, I cant be dragged to the council not with my reputation to keep I'll be ruined!" Rigel is visibly worried

It should never be this easy, chuckled Evil to herself, "Well, if you are that worried about the authorities Rigel perhaps I can be of some assistance to you? You know full well that capsuleer vessels are off limits to inspections, and I just happen to be a capsuleer with a vessel here in station" she can barely contain the grin at getting one over on the old geezer.

"You would do that for me? ohh bless your soul young lady, I shall be in your debt" the old man confused by the sudden onslaught against him has allowed his experience to be sidewashed, there is no law preventing the salve of slaves of any race, providing the correct documentation is in place.

"Have no fear old man, it would be an honour for me to aid you, I should pay yo a small fee though as I would not like to keep you out of pocket," slipping a small datapad from a concealed pocket, she taps a few symbols on the screen and smiles, "There you go, transferred all legal and proper, she is off your hands and no more concern of yours."

The old man fumbles in his pocket, retrieving a large bunch of keys he fumbles about to unlock the cage, swinging the door wide he switches to a rough tribal tongue, "Get up girl, get out of my shop, you belong to this lady now, do as she commands"

Looking up in vague incomprehension at the man, then the woman standing over her, she attempts to reposition her rags, which are doing little to cover her up, "You have any clothing or material she can wear? it is not proper to take her through the streets like this," Evil commands the man. Then switching to a flowing tongue of contrasting sounds, she commands the girl in her own language to get up and be ready to leave for a new home.
"You speak Gallante? whatever use do you have for that?" queries Rigel returning with a rough sheet of material that looks for all the world like it had been mere moments before a sack of potatoes.
Taking a haughty tone, well more haughty than usual, Evil replies, "Does the Lord not command that 'Know thy enemy that thou shall smite them from the world?' It is hard, is it not, to know your enemy when you cannot even speak to them"

Wrapping the sacking around the Jin-Mei girl, Evil leads her from the shop.
"So what is your name young one?" she whispers as they head back towards the apartment,
The girl looks up, and in a crackled voice "I have no name, I was No 274 in my shipment but I am now yours, I do not know my current name"
"Well child, pick yourself a real name, one you would like to be known by"
After a few moments thought, she look sup again, "Shaharakhh"
A grin spreads across Evils face, "Shaharakhh, daughter of the Matari goddess of fortitude, a somewhat pointed choice of name I feel. Fitting though it is, I feel I should adjust it slightly to make you sound a little less Matari perhaps?" Raising her eyebrows the girl makes no response to the questioning,

"Mmmh," Continues Evil, "You do know where you are at the moment don't you? This is Kador Prime, you are in the belly of the Empire my little JinMei, so how about we round it of to Shan, Shaneyeah, Shania, that works I think. You know what it means, I know you chose it, and co-incidentally in my own native tongue of Khanid it means Petal, which is a nice name I think."

"Shania, hmm" the girl tries on the name, and smiles.

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