The slaves were all crammed into a tiny, industrial hold in the back of the starliner. There were no real amenities; just jump-seats that folded down from the walls or snapped into place in the middle, like Jet’s extra-large seat.

  They didn’t get more than one small meal twice a day, and three drinks. There were no windows. There were no holoscreens or entertainment alcoves. They were pretty much ignored by the starliner staff.

  But it was glorious.

  Jet just sat back in his seat for the entire first day of their starliner trip and slept. He didn’t even attempt to use his new cryscomputer. His body ached from nose to tail-tip… he’d never in his adult life had a day off. A full day where he just did… nothing. It seemed like being able to really rest for the first time made everything in his body sore as he began to fully heal.

  Being able to simply sit, and rest, was like some kind of heaven. None of the others were surprised to see him able to sleep in such a precarious position either; half of the other slaves were doing the same.

  No one spoke to one another. All had the same beaten-down look of men and women, of various species, who had been used like robots without mercy. Used because they were cheaper than robots… and replaceable.

  On the morning of the second day of the trip, just after they’d risen in the morning, Mister Sal called Jet to the main lounge, which slaves were allowed to enter so long as they were with their masters. It was quite a bit nicer; a huge space with real plants in big planters, holo-niches everywhere, and the smell of good food in the air.

  Jet sat down at the table where he was told, but kept looking around until Sal asked what he was looking for.

  “Windows,” Jet admitted.

  Sal laughed. “No, Jet. Most of these people don’t want to see space. Not here. Not between the systems.”

  “Why not?”

  Sal looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, I didn’t get you the cheapest eye implants, I got you full holosuite lenses. That means they have full capabilities. Sometime, head onto the stelnet if you haven’t already, and find a stellar observatory. They’re easy to find. Then you’ll know.”

  Jet nodded.

  There was a long silence as they both got settled at the table which Sal had chosen. He had a cup of coffee in hand and looked thoughtfully at his slave. “You like coffee?”

  Jet blinked a few times. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “Never had it?”

  “No, sir.”

  Sal scowled. He glanced at the table; to Jet’s surprise this time he could actually see what Sal looked at and what he did.

  As soon as the human’s glance hit the tabletop, ghostly images of food and beverages rose up out of the wood grain and danced for him. He picked one with a look, and it glowed then all of it faded away. Minutes later, the beverage was delivered by a drone.

  “I called you up here to get to know you a little, Jet. To talk.” Sal took the drink from the drone and handed it to the Bantan.

  The big draconoid took the little cup carefully and sniffed at it; he knew the smell of coffee well, but he’d never tried it. He sipped at it gingerly.

  “What would you like to talk about, sir?” Jet asked, grimacing at the first taste. He decided he’d better take a few more to give coffee a fair appraisal.

  Sal gestured with a finger; the UI around them flickered and a faint blue field appeared. It meant that Sal had some kind of device which would block all sound. Nobody could hear what was said inside the bubble. “First, I wanted to tell you why I bought you.”

  Sal had Jet’s full attention.

  “That night when the slaughterdog escaped. I saw. I was there when the two Bantan guests rescued you.” His dark eyes had that gleam again. That knowing look. “You saved us. They probably thought we didn’t know what was going on, but we were watching.”

  Jet looked at the coffee, feeling a bit shy. He sipped it.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “I believe in a life for a life, Jet. You saved my life, I saved yours. Fair’s fair.”

  “That makes sense, sir.” Jet mumbled.

  “What was that? Speak up and don’t hesitate to speak your mind. Remember what I told you.”

  Jet took a deep breath, sat up straight, and looked Sal in the eye. It was difficult to do it, but he did. “I said, sir, that makes sense to me now. I have been wondering why you bought a slave when you… well. You don’t seem the type.”

  “I’m not. My people don’t do slavery.” He drummed his fingers on the table as he thought for a moment, sipping his drink. “You might be wondering why I don’t just release you, if I don’t believe in it.”

  “No, sir, actually I haven’t wondered.”

  Salmela frowned. “Really?”

  “No, sir. You’re out a lot of money, and you have given me motivation to earn it back. I don’t resent you for this. It makes sense. I am grateful for the opportunity.” Jet said it carefully, praying in his heart that the human kept the bargain and didn’t renege. Even just the hope of freedom was the most valuable thing he’d ever owned.

  Sal didn’t seem satisfied by the situation, but he made himself endure it. Shifting in his seat he lowered his voice, even though the mute shield kept anyone from hearing. “There’s something I really need to know. Forgive me for asking. I just wanted to know why your people embrace slavery. Did the humans introduce slavery to Banta when they discovered your world?”

  The way he said it told Jet that Sal found the entire institution dishonorable, and he suspected humans to be the font of every sort of corruption.

  Jet chuckled. “No, sir. Bantans have had slaves since… well since there were Bantans, sir. It’s an ancient part of our culture.”

  That surprised the human. He sat back, clearly not having expected such an answer. “Why is that?”

  The Bantan looked very long and thoughtfully at the human, deciding just how much he was really going to tell this new master. He decided that Robert Salmela was the curious type who would appreciate the truth.

  “Bantans are not like Humans, sir,” the big draconoid said carefully, cradling the little cup like it was made of eggshells. “We are not… gentle.”

  “Gentle! You call humans gentle?”

  The Bantan smiled wryly. “Compared to us, yes. You see, when a Bantan goes to war — when he gets locked in to combat — it’s extremely hard for us to break out of it. For us it’s kill or be killed.

  “We have… instincts. We call it the Chains of Thresh. The bloodlust. What that means is that when a Clan goes to war with another Clan — which happens often — it is rare for the warriors to be able to control themselves with enough discipline to leave a defeated foe alive. Doesn’t matter if it’s male, female, or child. All will fight to the death.

  “If a warrior is very strong, and very disciplined, and VERY honorable, sir… he might be able to stop himself and leave his prey alive. If he can do that, he can take a slave. The fact that I am sitting here alive means that I was taken by a very honorable warrior.”

  He stopped and let that sink in.

  The human was frowning. It took a while for the unfamiliar concepts to click through the gears of his mind.

  Jet kept going. “I was not killed at nine years old. I was allowed to grow up — I was given life. Half a life yes, but half is better than nothing. My father, my brothers, they were also captured and taken into slavery. We are all alive because we were lucky enough to get a band of very skilled and honorable enemies.”

  “Your father is alive? What about—” he stopped.

  “My mother fought to the death.” Jet smiled proudly, remembering her. “She was very strong.”

  The human sat there staring at the steam rising from his coffee for a few minutes. All he did was frown. Finally he said, “so you are… glad… that you are a slave?”

  Jet shrugged. “Glad, no. But I am grateful that I live. And now, sir,” he grinned and sipped his coffee, “there is a chance I may also someday be free. The one who took me as a slave gave me a life.”

  “This is very strange for me, Jet. Humans believe that slavery is evil altogether.”

  “Perhaps for your kind, who do not really need it for anything. But for us, it is the saving of a life.”

  “Do the Clans really have to fight so much?”

  Jet chuckled and drank a third time, deciding at last that he really didn’t like coffee. He set the cup down. “Do humans have to set things in order?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everywhere you go, you humans are trying to control everything. To set everything into what you consider a proper order. Whether the other species think it should be so or not.”

  “I get the feeling you’ve done a lot of thinking about things, Jet.”

  “It’s all I had to do. We didn’t have entertainment. We just sat under the stars. We sang, and we thought.”

  “You certainly are making ME think a bit, Jet.” The human sipped his coffee, then noticed that the slave had put his down. “You don’t like it?”

  “No, sir,” Jet said very apologetically.

  Sal smiled. “You don’t have to apologize. If you don’t like it, you don’t. After all I think coffee is really only a human thing… well. And Kratz. They can’t get enough.”

  “The cat-people?”

  Sal laughed aloud. “Don’t call them that where they can hear it! They are notoriously offended by the fact that they resemble our world’s cats. You might get into a fight.”

  Jet huffed faintly, not worried. “I think if I got into a fight with a Kratz, I wouldn’t be the one who should be worried.”

  “They’re fierce,” Sal warned.

  Jet just smiled faintly. The human really had no idea.

  “Have you seen your father since—?”

  “Since I was taken? No, sir. But I hear that he is doing well and has one of my brothers with him.”

  “Now that you have a Stelnet Account, you could probably contact his master and ask about him. Or rather… In fact, I will do it. I won’t look at the letter, although his master might. Find out where your father is, get me the address, write something, and I’ll make sure it gets there.”

  Jet was deeply touched. He looked down at the table and almost felt his eyes water. “Thank you, sir.”

  “I am not a cruel Master, Jet.” Sal smiled and finished his coffee.