J McKenna - Slave Planet

“I am Dolnark,” the older man said. “This is my son, Gulnark. This man is trainer, Keltar.”

“I am Jorja Smith of the free nation of Earth.” She didn’t dare tell them Earth was another planet.

“Yes, but you are here now. I own you,” Dolnark said. “I have given you to my son.”

“And I must be satisfied,” put in the younger man. “You must be punished for what you did.”

“In our country, we don’t allow men to mate with us on street corners,” Jorja huffed.

“You are not in your country,” Gulnark pointed out. “Now it is time for you to earn profit. If not, you shall be punished.”

Before Jorja could respond, Keltar grabbed her upper arm. “Slave, it is time to go.” he said. Gulnark stepped forward to unlock her collar chain.

“Go? Go where?”

“To the training area. To prepare.”

“Prepare for what?” Jorja looked at the other two men. They had Chesire cat grins on their faces.

“You are big fighter, hurt my son,” the older man said. “Now we make money from you. You go with Keltar. He train you for jamkalut.”

The Ute didn’t have an equivalent word. “What is jamkalut ?” She asked.

Keltar smiled. “Fight. Contest. Much fun.”

Jorja paled. “You’re going to put me in a ring with another poor girl and make us fight?”

The men all laughed when the translation was made clear. “No, no,” Keltar said. “You fight man.”

As the men explained it in more detail, Jorja began shaking her head. Apparently, for entertainment, the men held matches of some sort in the public square. Villagers turned out and bet on the outcomes. The fighters were all hardened men, well trained and probably deadly.

“There’s no way I’m going to do that,” she said. “Even if I did, I’d be killed. I can’t fight one of these huge guys.”

“No choice,” Dolnark said. “You hurt my son in front of villagers. He earned revenge. You fight, or you suffer punishments.”

“Then I’ll…” She trailed off. She couldn’t let them beat her like a dog! “What happens if I win? Will I be allowed to go home?”

“No. But my son will feel better about losing to slave. If you can beat fighter, you can beat many man in village.”

“I am sure we will have many fine matches in future,” Keltar put in.

“Well, forget it, boys. I’m not going to fight. The man will win and your son will look like a wimp.”

There were some puzzled looks. Apparently, “wimp” did not translate well. Jorja didn’t care.

“If you refuse to fight, then maybe another Earth woman can be made to fight,” Gulnark said, smirking. “Perhaps the light-haired one.”

Jorja knew he meant Greta. “You bastard! I’ll kick your ass all over again!” She lunged at him, but Keltar hauled her back by her arm. The father and Keltar laughed when Gulnark shrunk back. His face darkened over the embarrassment.

Jorja turned and tried to knock the man’s grip loose, but he parried her blows easily. “You have strength, speed. It will be a pleasure to ready you.”

“Do you think she’ll be ready by Dulston’s matches?” Gulnark asked.

Keltar shrugged. “Can not say now. Will have to study her. Never heard of a slave fight before.”

“Who will she be matched against?”

“Don’t know. Ask me tomorrow. Now, let me have magic box so I can train her.”

Gulnark reluctantly handed it over. “You take good care of that. It’s worth many quitnums .”

Keltar just nodded, snapped his leash onto Jorja’s collar and dragged her out. As much as she wanted to be away from the old man and his son, she was more afraid of this brooding, taciturn trainer.

Once they were outside, he surprised her by smiling at her. “If what villagers say is true, we make good profit.”

Escorting her to the cart, she was further amazed to be allowed to ride up front. “I didn’t think slaves rode up here,” she commented.

“They do not. Will make villagers talk. They know who I am. They will wonder about you.”

Jorja couldn’t help but laugh. “In our country, it would be called marketing.”’

The joke was lost on Keltar. “I did not see what you did to Gulnark, and I am sorry I missed it. That boy needed a lesson. To have a slave beat him up!” He guffawed loudly.

“You don’t like him?”

“No. He is braggart. His father is village elder, so son does what he please. No good.”

Jorja smiled. Finally! Someone who agreed with her. “Why is he making me fight stranger? Why not try to fight me himself?”

Keltar laughed again. “Good point! I think he is afraid of you. He is already embarrassed. Can not bear to lose twice, so he calls for substitute. But I think I know his strategy. He will bet on you to lose, and hope you win.”

Jorja was confused. “I don’t understand.”

“If you win, it will show village that he is not weak, that good fighter could not beat you. If you lose, he makes profit.”

Ahh, she thought. That makes sense. These people loved a profit. “The way women are treated in this village, it’s a wonder anyone will bet on me to win.”

“True. But many people watched your fight with the boy. Even now, word is going from house to house. By the time match comes up, you could be big hero, very strong fighter.”

“What if I bet on myself to win—can I win my freedom back, along with the other women of my tribe?

“Maybe. If you had a man to make bids for you. If a man make enough money on match.” He slapped the reins on the donkey’s back. “For now, I want to see what magic you have in arena.”

Allyson strained against her ropes, cursing and struggling. The coarse hemp cut into her wrists and ankles. She screamed into the gag covering her mouth. She had been forced by the huge man over this padded sawhorse-like structure that he set up in the hotel lobby, her arms and legs tied to the supports. She was mortified to be bent over and spread out like this, her ass and cleft exposed to any visitors who came in.

Apparently, she was some sort of perk for the man’s guests. He was retaliating for her obstinate refusal to do her chores in a matter befitting a slave. The starship commander would rather die than clean latrines and sweep courtyards. However, this indignity was far worse.

Fortunately for Ally, business was slow this time of day. So far, only one man had checked in, two slaves in tow, and he was too tired to partake of the manager’s kind invitation to relieve his stress with the bound woman. Instead, he merely spanked her sharply a few times on her bare ass and let it go at that. The hotel owner laughed at her discomfort as she squirmed under the man’s blows.

So she was still waiting for her first real “customer” when Niktus walked in with Beth mid-afternoon. Beth gasped when she saw her commander. “Oh my god, Commander Egerton! Hang on, I’ll try to get you out of there.”

She whispered a few words to Niktus, holding the Ute close so the brooding hotel manager couldn’t hear. Niktus nodded and said, “I will speak to him.”

They approached the desk. “Greetings, Pitus ! How is business?”

“Good, Niktus, good. I see you are out with your slave today—I hope she is more obedient than mine! What a difficult slave!”

“Yes. But let me tell you, Pitus, these slaves are very unusual. I can see you are trying to discipline her, I just hope you do not ruin her value while you do it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not hear about the big one they captured and sold to Dolnark?”

“Yes, I did hear that. She attacked his son—most distressing.”

“That is my point. Where have you heard of a slave attacking a man—not only that, but knocking him to the ground twice!”