Satie waved her hand in
front of a spot on the wall and the door for compartment holding cleaning supplies
wisped shut. Satie walked across the room catching a glimpse of herself in a
small mirror sitting on a table. Even after all these years she still felt
naked in the skimpy and thin garments her master made her wear. Should count
yourself lucky, her conscience reminded her. A different time and in a
different place slaves would be given only filthy rags of rough woven cloth
that chapped in tight spots leaving sores in the skin that would never heal.
Satie reached her
destination in the living quarters and set about her task of cleaning and
polishing little figurines lining several small shelves built into the wall.
“Lucky indeed” she though aloud. Lucky her master was a spaceship captain, and
as such was hardly ever home. Lucky she was not alone. Three other women shared
her fate with her. All four were of the same race and came from similar
backgrounds. Having others to lament the past and to find comfort with made
life as a slave slightly more bearable. There could have been worse fates.
Keeping her faith was the key to survival. She as well as the others knew that
if they took their own life they would not find peace on the other side.
Cleaning a particular
grotesque figure of two female bodies twisted in a lovers embrace she felt bile
rise to the back of her throat. To be surrounded by such depravity. At least she thought, even with all the
indignities her master put upon her, she was not forced to commit any vile sins
of the flesh. She knew of other slaves
that toiled in hot fields under a brutal sun. Others that worked endless shifts
of manual labor never saw the light of day. All under scrutiny of Amarrian
guards and threat of a whip if they were lucky, worse if they were not. Still
it would seem that her master went out of the way to find ways to make her
uncomfortable even in the posh surroundings she found herself.
Satie figured the thin
gold collar around her throat. Sometimes the means of keeping slaves captive
and obedient may not be as harsh, but could be as painful. She looked up and
could see the little camera in the corner of the room, camera’s everywhere. Her
mind spoke again “At least this master does not believe in Vitoc”. She could
not suppress a shudder at the thought of being dependent on a drug where even
mild withdrawals resulted in cramps and convulsions and after a small amount of
time resulted in death. Even if should could slip the collar and leave the
suite of compartments where would she go? She was locked on a space station situated above a planet in a
constellation across the known universe from her home.
Even if she could find
passage to the planet below it was populated by those who despised her race and
would likely violate her flesh and torture her before giving her death. Her
pale skin and genteel features a tattle tale of her race would give her away.
She could not hope to blend in with the larger darker skinned inhabitants. “A
spaceship then” the little voice in her head sounded boldly. Even then how many
star systems from her home was she? Satie could not fathom.
“A crisis of faith then?”
Her mind pounded, her heart skipped a beat. Deep down Satie knew she likely deserved the life she now led. How
many times did she commit atrocities in the name of her faith? Was it her
reliance on faith that fate now found her a slave? A woman, who once commanded
respect, had large possessions of land and wealth, a holder over a large
population of Matari flesh! On whose backs she maintained her family’s fortunes.
On whose flesh she forced her every whim. Her faith gave her the right to do
with them as she pleased. She paused and regret stabbed her in the abdomen like
a knife. Satie thought and how many a cold nights did she submit to her own
depravity.
Satie slumped, the
battle inside was starting to make her shake on the outside. Oh that fateful
day! She found herself remembering how giddy she was. It was her first trip
aboard a starship. Bound for the Amarr home worlds, a glorious trip where she
hoped to finally meet the empress. Why she continually asked herself was she not allowed to die in
the fiery death of that ship. Why was it she was saved only then made a slave
by that capsuleer Vherokior bitch! An image of the tall female savage's
tattooed face filled her mind as she remembered her mocking voice as she placed
the pain collar around her neck. How dare that Minmatar slut call her a slave! She was of noble birth! A HOLDER! Why did no one
try to come to her rescue! A sigh escaped her lips as she trembled both in
anger and anguish.
She knew the answer. As
always in the society where she was once such a central figure, an Amarr holder
with great power and influence. Of course there were others who would not miss
her, others who would step in with a plea for faith on their lips as they
usurped her lands and wealth, and her position in society. Others who could not
wait for the bodies of their brethren to cool before going about dividing what
remained. Satie knew all too well what was happing in her absence. Was it not
the sudden disappearance of her Aunt that led to her taking her position as
holder of the family’s possessions and political seat?
The door to the
compartment opened and a slender young woman entered the room. Satie looked up
and watcher her approach. She was as beautiful as any Amarr goddess could be
and appeared to float across the floor in a graceful manner. The long sheer
panels of her outfit slipped around her body in an intentionally erotic fashion
that made Satie blush for her. The Woman’s name was Amanda. Her outfit matched
Satie’s. Amanda drifted over to
Satie putting an arm around her. “Another crisis” Amanda’s voice was quite and silky smooth but
still held power and authority common among holders. Satie could only shake her
head as she felt shame for showing weakness in front of someone else. She felt
the woman’s arm close around her shoulders. “We must maintain our faith”. Satie
collapsed in the woman’s embrace as she broke down into tears.
