It would be quite a nice outing, except for the fact that a human slave auction starts up. The women who were captured from Earth are shackled to moveable stages, which are pushed into place. An auctioneer begins to call out the lots.
I can’t pull my eyes away from the scene. In a sea of aliens, the ladies look scared. They are of all ages, most of them young and beautiful, but some more mature and beautiful. The auctioneer makes a comment on the thick breasts of one lady, who blushes furiously as the green creature handles her as if he is entitled to do so.
“What are you doing, pet?”
Kronos notices that my attention is not on them anymore.
“We have to stop that,” I say.
“What do you mean?” Boss is looking at me with a curious expression.
“I want to help the other women escape the auction. If they’re going to go to food, if they’re going to be hurt, or eaten. I can’t let that happen.”
“You want us to interrupt a human auction backed by Sligtonians,” Sharp says. “To free human females who are going to be vulnerable to exactly the same kinds of exploitation you faced, but will likely not be lucky enough to meet others capable of defending them. If we stop the auction, the likelihood of any of those women lasting more than three days is close to zero.”
“They’re being sold to breed, not to eat,” Boss says, as if that is some kind of good thing I can be grateful for and happy about. “Some of them will simply be companions. It’s quite a good deal, if you think about it.”
It’s not a good deal, but I’m not going to tell the Minotaur that he’s wrong. Every single one of these aliens has a super authoritarian complex. They don’t listen to what I think. Theytell me what’s going to happen, and they think I’m just going to go along with it.
I fall silent and nod my head, and then a vendor asks them if they want bullets that are also knives, and they all turn to him.
I slide into the crowd, then I slip through it. I’m gone before they realize it. I make my way swiftly toward the auction. I don’t have a plan, but I plan to improvise something.
An alien male is up there. He’s an auctioneer, but he’s not a Sligtonian. I don’t know what he is exactly. He looks like a cross between a praying mantis and an accountant. He’s wearing what looks sort of like a suit. Very neat. If only his eyes didn’t seem to see ten thousand things at once, and his voice wasn’t coming out a mandible mouth. I think it’s probably wrong to judge a creature by its appearance, but given he’s an auctioneer of people, I feel pretty confident to judge him hard.
“Do I have a thousand credits for lot number one? Just kidding, the bidding starts at ten thousand credits. These are wild caught females. You won’t find these anywhere else in the galaxy. Our first is the finest filly I’ve ever seen. Look at those generous ass and thighs. Have them wrapped around you, or fried with a little garlic—an Earth plant that pairs perfectly with human flesh.”
My stomach turns. They are being sold to be eaten. How can Boss not care about that? He knows what it’s like to fight for survival in the face of overwhelming opposition. I know one thing about him, and that’s it.
“Ten thousand!” someone shouts behind me. The auction is now in full swing and that means I’m no longer stopping it. I’m attending it. I might as well fucking bid on it.
Wait.
I might as well bid on it?
“One million dollars! I mean credits!” I shout.
There’s a ripple in the audience.
“We have one million credits!” the auctioneer shouts. “Do I have one million and one thousand credits?”
It turns out he does not. The lot is turned in. Another woman is brought to the front. She’s crying. Fuck. They’re so afraid, and this is so unfair.
I move through the crowd, and when the bidding starts on this woman, I shout again. She also goes for a million dollars, because I shout one million dollars in a funny voice from a different part of the crowd.
There are eight ladies in all, and crazily enough, they all go for one million credits. The crowd is unsettled, because nobody brought enough money. Scrubs. Apparently the going rate for humans is closer to eighty thousand credits.
“Don’t worry! We will be receiving a fresh shipment in just a few days!” the auctioneer says as the last woman is allegedly sold.
I’m going to have to have a lot more fake millions very soon. But that’s a problem for a couple more days. Right now, my problem is trying to work out how to pretend to pay eight million credits. Maybe I can write some kind of alien check. They might take it. I’ve got to learn how money works out here in the alien world.
The crowd continues to make generally unsettled noises. They really wanted humans. Also, they’re not entirely stupid. Turns out a few of them were watching me dart through the crowd.
Suddenly, a big, clawed hand grabs me by the back of the neck. An arm wraps around my waist. Someone picks me up and waves me like a flag.
“The auction was a sham! They were trying to drive the price up by having one of their human pets bid for them!”
“I’m not a pet! I’m a magnate of humans. I like to buy ladies!” I shout back. “I’m a legitimate human purchaser!”
