“Dare I ask what happens the other occasions?”
Margussa’s face hardened momentarily before she got her emotions under control. “Sometimes, when a warship arrives, they take a few females up to the station.”
“To work in space?”
“We do not know. Those who go up are never seen again. And as Dohrag ships are only crewed by males, we assume the worst.”
“Wait, there are no women on their ships?”
“None. Dohrags are an odd race in that regard. They travel the stars and have quite an expansive reach, but their women remainon their colonies and home world. None travel aboard their ships, and as a result the crew can become, well, I’m sure you know how a group of lonely men can get.”
Shalia shuddered at the thought. She could guess how they would treat any woman who wound up aboard one of their ships. A toy for the crew, perhaps? Or a commodity to be sold or traded? The specifics didn’t really matter. What did was that she was sure she’d do whatever it took tonotfind herself in that predicament if there was anything at all she could do to prevent it.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” she said in a hushed tone, though the guards watching them as they worked the fields were quite spread out.
There was no way they could escape, and even if they did, they’d be run down before they made it far. Nevertheless, she felt they had to try.
Margussa put an end to that idea straight away.
“Don’t even think it, girl,” the older woman said with a sad smile. “I appreciate your fire, believe me, but trust me when I say it would not go well for you.”
“We can’t just live like this.”
“We do what we have to in order to survive. That means being smart, keeping your head down, and staying as unnoticed as you can. And rest assured, if you run, I can guarantee you will be among the next to be sent up when a ship arrives.”
Shalia felt the wind go out of her sails. “Shit,” she said, absentmindedly scratching at the new tattoo on her collarbone.
“Don’t scratch at it.”
“But it itches like hell.”
“That’s strange. It should not do that by now.”
“Seriously? So soon? I only got it the other day.”
“Yes, but it is a small marking, and even though the Dohrag pigment is of an unusual formulation, it is a powered one, nevertheless. One that size should heal in no time, though your race is unfamiliar to me and perhaps takes a little longer than most.”
“Powered, you say? How so?”
“The pigment contains power, drawn from the sun and solar winds, as do nearly all of the colors used in the marking process. It varies by the nature of the plant used to create it, but almost always a species that harnesses the sun and galaxy’s natural power is selected in the making of the pigment. And this one appears to be a fairly potent version, though a type I’ve never come upon previously in my travels.”
“It’s unique to the Dohrags?”
“To this commander, actually. The rune is the marking of their unit, and as the leader, he is the one tasked with compounding the elements and marking his captives.”
Shalia felt a spark of rage in her gut as her fingertips grazed across the small, inflamed mark. She felt defiled. Almost branded like an animal. And, she supposed, that was pretty much what had happened.
Margussa leaned closer and looked at the inflamed tattoo. “It seems you are having a reaction to it. Maybe a small infection. That would explain the itch. You will want to eat well and hydrate as much as you can tonight. Hopefully, that will help your body heal properly. You’ll need to have all your energy tomorrow. It will undoubtedly be another hard day of work.Everyday is a hard day.”
3
“It’s still looking pretty unhappy,” Margussa said, eyeing Shalia’s new tattoo as they stripped off their sweaty clothes at the end of the following day. “A little better, but not healed.”
“I guess I’m just special like that,” Shalia joked, wiping the spot with a cool, damp cloth, though the rest of her skin was feeling nearly as miserable and hot, but for another reason.
“And that is the beginning of one serious sunburn you have there.”
“No way. I never get a sunburn.”
