The Rebellious Slave Ch. 02

That voice...Kara was sure she had heard it before...

"Godforsaken, brazen cowards! Get these confounded cuffs off of me, and I'll show you how well I can beat you into the ground! This war is far from over, and I swear, I'll—"

There was the sound of glass shattering, a table being overturned, and then a tussle. As the room erupted into laughter, the screams were abruptly cut off and Kara realized that whoever had been shouting must be gagged now. "Look at the vein in his temple!" one of the prospective buyers cried, and there was another burst of laughter. "Poor boy's gonna pass out if he's not careful!" Cursing under her breath, Kara cringed and suddenly realized that her own heart had started racing. But the chatter of the auction hall had soon resumed and then the music of the orchestra. The screaming became a distant memory and the atmosphere was cheery once again.

As the minutes wore on, Kara could see more and more people crowding into the room and the low hum of chatter gradually grew louder, until it had reached a gentle roar. There were more than a few more outbursts among the soon-to-be slaves—each one awakening new anxiety in her—but they were all quieted quickly. Eventually, Kara could feel the platform beneath her shaking as her neighbor was set up next to her and given the same little speech on gags, etiquette, and medication. The thirty minutes were almost up when a medic finally stopped by to ask her some questions—mostly harmless, about how she was feeling and if she had any history of fainting—then gave her the medication she'd been promised via injection. The medic was polite, but she also didn't dawdle and quickly moved on to the next person in line once they were through...

"How are you feeling—let's see—Terrance?"

"What do you think? Like shit. What are you going to do about it?"

"That depends: any headaches, coughing, nausea, vomiting...?"

The new person snorted in disbelief, but Kara didn't dare look. Her respect for patient-doctor confidentiality kept Kara staring straight ahead, but it wasn't exactly easy to ignore her neighbor, either.

"You people are fucked in the head, you know that?"

"Terrance, I can't help you if you won't let me."

"I haven't had a cigarette in a week; there's gotta be laws against that kind of thing."

"I can't help you with that, Terrance, and you know it."

"Then fuck off already."

"At least let me give you some nausea medication—"

"Like I'm scared of you fuckers? That's funny. You're funny."

"—just in case. Better to have it and not need it."

But the new person only laughed, a surprisingly genuine, guttural laugh.

"Oh, I'd fucking love to send one of these pompous pricks to the dry cleaners before I get carted off; haha!"

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" the loudspeakers suddenly cackled, and once again, Kara nearly jumped out of her skin. She was starting to feel self-conscious about that, even a little annoyed. These days, it seemed like pretty much anything could set her off. Still angry, Kara scanned the room for her tormentor and finally narrowed in on a well-dressed man in a suit beside the front desk, holding a microphone and addressing the room at large. "Please, gather 'round! Gather 'round! And welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to tonight's auction!"

It's just so...casual, Kara marveled, more fascinated than disturbed, but still disturbed nonetheless. The atmosphere is so cheery and nonchalant; it's almost obscene.

"We hope you'll be pleased with tonight's selection," the loudspeakers continued, and now the well-dressed man was absentmindedly swinging the cord of his microphone back and forth, while the general chatter of the auction hall began to die down and several of the patrons turned toward the front in order to better listen. "As I'm sure you all know, a great deal of time and effort went into tracking down and acquiring each unique piece we have on display this evening. Your event catalogs will include a short overview of each one—if you haven't picked one up yet, they're being handed out by the front desk—and feel free to track down one of our sales associates if you have any questions. They're the ones in the purple and black uniforms. Associates, if you wouldn't mind giving us all a wave so our guests can spot you?"

On cue, the numerous sales associates scattered throughout the hall all raised their hands in unison. Their smiles were so wide and so bright, Kara thought they looked almost painful. By then, most of the prospective buyers had started skimming through their catalogs and were already staking out the most interesting pieces. A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Kara grew concerned. Nearly all the patrons had formed little groups and were pointing out the slaves along other side of the auction hall, whispering to one another in lowered voices.

"We'll begin with the silent auction," the loudspeakers blared, and now the well-dressed man was looking over the evening schedule. "As you peruse the merchandise, you'll find that each piece is associated with a small clipboard. The starting bid will be listed at the top and the minimum bidding increment will be twenty thousand qualid. Any piece that hasn't been reserved in the next two hours will be handled with a live auction and a bid must go uncontested for twenty minutes in order for the associated piece to be considered reserved." There was a pause as the well-dressed man scanned the crowd, making sure that the information had time to sink in before continuing. "Finally, please be careful before you place a bid. Nearly all of our pieces tonight require specialty registration and cannot be easily re-sold. All winning bidders will need to present their license at check-out. There is a buffet in the back and an semi-open bar. So please, enjoy yourselves!"

Wait, no! I'm not ready! Kara suddenly realized, taking note of the cruel, almost maniacal faces all around her and feeling sick. No, no...I'm not ready!

But the loudspeakers went dead and then the chatter of the auction hall resumed, twice as lively as it had been before. As the prospective buyers began to tour the room, Kara realized she hadn't the slightest idea what to do with herself and the awkwardness of the situation crashed into her with the force of a tidal wave.

How am I supposed to act? What am I supposed to do? What's the proper etiquette for...well, being a piece of meat dangling from a hook?

It wasn't as if Kara had been on the auction block before. People kept stopping to stare at her, but she had no idea whether she should stare right back at them or pretend to be interested in something far away. It didn't feel right to smile at them—wouldn't that be creepy?—and it didn't feel right to do nothing at all. At least zoo animals were able to eat, sleep, and play while they were being ogled. Kara could only sit still and wait for it to be over, wondering how she might be embarrassing herself in the meantime. Her left bra strap had started falling down and with her arms chained above her head, there was nothing she could do except watch it happen and steadily grow more and more annoyed.

At least they're only looking, Kara reassured herself, but she'd had the thought too soon.

Looking over her shoulder, Kara watched as one of the slaves nearby was roughly grabbed by the breast and violently molested. There was a gasp, and then a startled scream of pain. A Martkorp handler rushed over to reprimand the offending patron, but he only laughed and offered a half-assed apology before wandering off with his friends. He was dressed in impossibly expensive clothing and the women with him were covered in so much gold and silver, they were practically walking jewelry stores. Growing panicked, Kara was suddenly reminded that whoever bought her would have the money to make sure she never got away.

Stop thinking like that! Kara chastised herself, forcing the evil thoughts aside. Stop it! You're smart. You'll figure something out! Just stay focused.

Hoping for a distraction, Kara scanned the room. She wasn't sure what she was looking for or how any of it might help her, but she needed to do something or else relapse into feeling entirely helpless. She eyed the other slaves—wondering how they had ended up like her—and then caught herself doing a double take. Not four slaves to her left, Kara thought she recognized someone. Squinting past the light from the chandelier, she desperately tried to pin down the details of the woman's face: short, boyish blond hair, green eyes, a triangular scar on her left cheek...

"My god!" Kara whispered, unable to believe her eyes. "Elandra?!"

Elandra had been the head medic from her unit back in Gardok, on the east side of the city. Kara had never been particularly fond of her, given the Commander's often cold, apathetic nature. She had refused to let anyone in her unit care for a soldier on Isleydor's side, which had been the source of many arguments. Kara took her Healer's Oath very seriously and felt that discriminatory care, even in the face of war, was a mortal sin. But Elandra had saved her life on more than one occasion and even if Kara couldn't like the Commander, she still respected her.

There was a gorgeous, but stern-faced woman staring at Elandra, wearing a red sequin dress and holding a dark glass of wine in her hand. Her raven-black hair was tied back in a little bun and her eyes were positively devilish, like those of a sadistic child standing before an anthill. Sneering, she gripped Elandra's face in her free hand, letting her perfectly manicured nails dig painfully into her captive's skin, and leaned down to whisper something into her ear. Whatever it was, it must have been positively terrifying. Very little could rattle Elandra, but her eyes had suddenly grown wide and almost immediately, she began to weep. Still grinning from ear to ear, the woman in red released her, only to bend down and scrawl something onto the clipboard beside them. When she was finished, she lifted it up so that Elandra could see the exact bid she'd made.

Gloating, Kara realized, feeling sick and then angry. The woman's only gloating!

Elandra was desperately shaking her head now, as if that might win her some mercy. There seemed to be no end to the miserable tears trailing down her face and they had started to gather at her chin, then drip down onto the platform below. It was hard to watch, but Kara couldn't bear to look away. To do so would feel an awful lot like abandonment. In one final bid for her dignity, Elandra tried to wrench her head free, but the woman in red wouldn't let go and kept on whispering terrible, sweet little nothings into her ear. A nerve-wracking sob of desperation escaped into the air and that was the last straw. Whatever sliver of self-control Kara still had, it instantly evaporated.

"Hey, you!" Kara shouted, and when the woman in the red turned around, she grew bolder. "You! Yes, you! The ugly crone in the red dress, who else?" The woman in red only narrowed her eyes at first, but when Kara wouldn't stop, she began to step menacingly forward. "Do you even know who that is? That woman's saved more lives than any other medic in Gardok, you self-absorbed, backwards fucking twit! That woman's done more for mankind in an hour than you've done your entire wretched life!"

"Shut it, Callihistra scum!" the woman in red snarled, raising her arm over her head and preparing to strike. "How dare you even think of speaking to me that way!" But Kara wasn't finished. Not yet.

"You break it, you buy it!" Kara cried, surprised by her own gall, but it seemed to work. The woman in red paused, though she was none too happy with the truth behind her prey's words.

"If you were mine, you wouldn't be so cocky," the woman in red hissed, eyeing the clipboard beside Kara meaningfully. "Not for long. By the end of the night, you'd be licking my heels between your sobs for mercy."

"Then why don't you put your money where your mouth is?" Kara scoffed, because she was in this deep already, so why not go all in? "Talk is cheap, but the privilege of beating my ass is expensive. Fifty grand, to be exact. And that's the starting bid."

Her eyes livid, the woman in red sneered at Kara, but eventually, she lowered her arm. Reaching into the pocket of her dress, she pulled out an event catalog and began to skim through it, looking perturbed at first, but then finally breaking out into another terrible grin. Stepping still closer, the woman in red leaned in until Kara could smell the sweetness of her breath from behind her flawless, slightly parted lips. Her dark, brown eyes were positively sparkling with malice.

"Oh, I see...Elandra was your Commander, was she?" the woman in red crooned, and Kara could feel her own eyes turn to daggers. "Such a pity. I'd love to have a pair, but I've already spent quite a bit to reserve that decadent little piece. Don't worry, though. I'll take amazing care of her. She's crying now, but eventually, she'll learn to love me." Stuffing her catalog back into her pocket, the woman in red turned on her heel and gave Kara a gentle, but cruel farewell smile. "Love doesn't come naturally to everyone. Sometimes, love is thrust upon us."

Goddammit! Kara thought, watching as the woman in red melted back into the crowd. How many of the men and women that I worked with are lined up here?

Frantically, Kara skimmed over the remaining slaves in her line of sight, trying to see if she recognized anyone else. There was so much commotion that it was difficult to get a handle on the sea of faces, but eventually, she spotted General Benjamin Karrington just across the hall. He had been a major figurehead in Callihistra's military and later, the head of the White Horse Rebel Alliance. Kara had only seen him in person once before and only from the back of a very large crowd, but he had still left a remarkable impression on her. Although she couldn't read the plaque Martkorp had provided, she was suspicious the second she saw his brown, wavy hair and his cool, gray eyes made her certain.

It's him...I know it's him...

Half-naked and wearing only a pair of sheer, yellow-gold harem pants, Karrington had been forced to kneel with his body bent double. There was a thick, metal collar locked around his neck and the chain dangling from it had been affixed to the front of the platform. It didn't look to be more than a foot long—the general could barely lift his head—but that wasn't the end of it. As extra insurance, Martkorp had also strapped him into an armbinder and there were leather bands securing his lower legs to his thighs. There was a gag in his mouth and the thick, rubber ball was covered in bite marks. If nothing else, that set-up was proof of the terrible danger Karrington posed. No one else in the auction hall had been so thoroughly tied and they'd assigned two handlers to him for good measure. While one of them managed the crowd, the other was constantly pressing a taser into his neck as a warning. Every time a prospective buyer got too close, the general would lunge forward and the Martkorp handler would have to pull him back, jabbing the taser ever more painfully into his skin. But they never once electrocuted him.

How did they ever get hold of him? Kara wondered, both shocked and appalled that she'd somehow found herself at the same auction as the famed First General. How...?

While Kara knew very little about the general, his stubbornness was legendary. Even bound and gagged, he never stopped fighting. Kara could see his muscles bulge with effort as he strained against leather and metal, seemingly oblivious to the futility of the exercise. His naked chest rose and fell erratically as he breathed and soon his body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, but it didn't matter. Martkorp had taken every precaution to ensure that the general stayed put and that's exactly what he did. Despite his fervent struggles, he managed to do little else but rattle the chains holding him. In all his rebellious glory, Kara thought that the general was stunningly beautiful, but that only made his fall from grace all the more devastating. In the light from the chandelier, she could see dozens of bright, white scars decorating his skin and they glimmered like so many tiny, terrible stars.

It wasn't long before Karrington was swarmed and there was no doubt as to why he was so popular. When Isleydor had first begun its attack on her homeland, Callihistra's Elected Council had almost immediately surrendered. There were rumors that bribery and blackmail had been involved, but regardless, the move hadn't been a popular one. Callihistra was a proud country and Isleydor had been despised for a long time. For weeks afterward, the news media was solely focused on condemnations of the Elected Council and a persistent call to action, but it wasn't until Benjamin Karrington took a stand that the war effort was reignited. In direct violation of his orders, he started the White Horse Rebel Alliance, uniting the people of Callihistra under one banner to continue the war and push back Isleydor. Later, he'd managed the defense of Gardok's west side, fiercely protecting it for roughly two years before it had finally fallen.

Who else could they possibly have? Kara thought, unable to help the panic that had started creeping up on her. In a distant corner, she could see a second cluster of prospective buyers and squinted her eyes to get a better look, then immediately wished she hadn't. No...no, it can't be. Not the Eastside General. Not my general. Not Tamius Sue.

On cold, dark nights when there'd been nothing else to do and they'd already played poker a few dozen times, Callihistra's soldiers had swapped propaganda posters from the other side. As with trading cards, the rarest had been worth a full day's rations or even a pack of cigarettes. Several had targeted General Tamius Sue, but the agreed upon favorite had her sitting atop a pile of bleached bones, armed to the teeth and sporting heavyset boots that were speckled with blood. Kara had occasionally seen her general on the hospital floor visiting high-ranking officials and the caricature wasn't all that far from the truth. Just like in the poster, the general kept her hair tied back in a thick, high ponytail and the gorgeous, yellow-blond locks perfectly complimented her fierce green eyes. Even all the way across the hall, General Tamius Sue was easily recognizable, but it was hard seeing her so vulnerable. Dressed in the same yellow-gold harem pants as her counterpart and then a matching bralette, she stood out almost obstinately amid all the red and gold and, perhaps, that was the point. Worse still, nearly everything underneath her clothes was clearly visible through the paper-thin material.

Once an acrobat in a family circus, Tamius had left to join the military at a very young age and had been one of the first to stand behind Benjamin Karrington after he'd defected. Not only that, but she'd held onto Gardok's east side long after the north, south, and west sides had been taken. When it became obvious that the White Horse wouldn't win, she hadn't made a run for it. Instead, Tamius had diverted her men and their resources to escorting fleeing families from the city, doing her best to provide safe passage to any survivors. When she'd finally tried to leave Gardok, it had been too late. They'd found her and her most loyal men barricaded inside the National Library, with their rations rapidly depleting and hardly any ammo left. Yet, it had taken Isleydor an entire Special Ops Unit to get inside and capture her or, at least, that was the rumor.