Ravensdagger_Overkill

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine Taylor was impressed, and that alone was enough to make her stomach churn and her bile rise.The slave pens, because that was what a place for animals was called, were nothing if not efficient. Each cage had thick bars in front of it, but solid walls on either side. The lights were dispersed enough that you could see into each cell, but just barely.Maybe some of the guards were aliens that could see better in the dark. She was still wrapping her head around aliens being somewhat humanoid.A series of pipes linked up each pen, a single drop falling into a little saucer by the door with a staccato beat. Pat-pat-pat. Enough, Taylor estimated, to fill a cup every few hours. She didn’t see how they were fed, but it was probably with the same bored efficiency.Her skin crawled as she entered the frankly enormous room and walked down the rows of pens. Her power was grabbing each person, human or otherwise, as she passed. She was used to ignoring the pain of whatever she controlled, of ignoring the senses that weren’t immediately helpful to her. Here, it was impossible to do so. These people were in pain. Cramped legs, bowed backs, bruises on the sides of heads, between their thighs, on the soles of their feet.Her fists were clenched by her sides, and even with her head down she couldn’t not see them. The bugs alone, from the gut worms to the flies, were telling her more than enough.Once she was rid of her collar, she was going to have to do something about this. The problem was what. “Hey, HK-47,” she began. “Do you know if there are any groups that help slaves like these?” There had to be someone out there.“Comment: Some soft-hearted organics sympathize with the suffering of slaves. In all likelihood there are groups willing to ship slaves off planet to rehabilitate them. Assessment: A waste of resources.”Taylor didn’t comment on HK-47’s attitude. She still wasn’t sure if he would continue with her, and right now, she needed him. “We’ll have to do something about this,” she said.“Query: Do you intend to lead a rebellion? Statement: Oh, how wonderful. Rebellions are always bloodbaths. So much well fermented anger and desperation.”“We’ll have to see,” she said. “My collar first.”Through her bugs, she could feel the rough layout of the room ahead of her. There was what looked like an operating room next to a place with a few beds where other slaves were laying down. None of them were human, not unless the humans of this world were green and covered in fine scales. And had tails.Beyond that, behind a thick door, was a sweltering little room filled with screens and what were probably computers. A single non-human was sitting back in his seat, mouth wide open and probably snoring. “I’ve found the control room, I think,” she said.They crossed the medical rooms without fuss. The only occupants that weren’t knocked out were medical droids and her experience with those so far led her to believe that they were mostly innocent when they weren’t tearing an arm apart like a ripe fruit.The person napping in the security room slipped into her range as her little group approached the door, but she didn’t do anything about it, just moved the secretary she had taken over to the door while her Gamorrean escorts took up positions where they could keep an eye on things for her.She might have had a few thousand bugs to work with, but the vision and sense of smell of the pig men were still far better. That, and they were large, armed, and strong enough to pass as weak Brutes. They would scare off any intruders far better than her rather sparse swarm.The door was a thick slab of some sort of metal with a large, complex device in the wall next to it with the rough outline of a hand. It seemed that Nimas, for all that she was slowly starting to piss Taylor off, was at least the cautious sortHer captive pressed her hand to the device and the door slid open. “Let’s get to work,” Taylor said.

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Sib Nark was a businessman first, an entrepreneur second, and a trader third. The distinctions would be, to most sentients, utterly unimportant. To the Neimoidians it was the difference between being a servant and a master.Well, perhaps not in the literal sense, he had to remind himself as he faced the Great Nimas, ruler of Mos Ipas and the greatest slave owner on Tatooine and a great portion of Hutt space.The... throne room, he supposed it should be called, was a disgusting pit, the floors stained with sweat, spilled juices and other filth, the walls, all of them filled with little alcoves where business people, bounty hunters and sycophants were sitting, were once beige but had darkened under the smoke of too many pipes and the dust carried in from outdoors.Gamorreans stood by every entrance and a few more competent-though that was hardly a feat worthy of praise-guards were patrolling the edges of the domed room.In the centre, on a pedestal that made sure that all had to look up to see her, was the Great Nimas. The slug was large, as most Hutts of her age were, with faintly green skin covered in a fine sheen of water that was being sprayed from a sprinkler above. A fine show of waste and decadence on Tatooine.“Great Nimas,” Sib Nark said with a bow, his long robes pulling before him and displaying the marks of his clan, not that he imagined anyone there would have the cultural learning required to understand that he was their better.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.“Sib Nark,” the Hutt said. She rolled a little, folds of fat moving so that the water would cover her properly. A pair of young Twi'lek girls were quick to begin rubbing her skin. “It is a pleasure to see you in my humble estate.”“The pleasure,” he began, “Is certainly all mine.” He didn’t tell her how little pleasure there was, only that it was his.“Hrm, yes,” the corpulent Hutt said. She rolled back over onto her stomach, one of the slave girls almost tripping off to podium to get out of her way. “You are here to sell me some rusty droids, yes?”Sib Nark stood tall and proud, robes billowing out around him in a show of injured pride. “Great Nimas, I would never sell any equipment that is less than adequate to any trusted customer. It would sully my good name. No, I am here to sell you droids that we no longer have a use for, but that would be more than adequate to the task of guarding your esteemed person. These are some of Baktoid Combat Automata’s finest OOM-series droids.”He bowed a little towards the Hutt, keeping his smile to himself. What he said was true. He would never double cross an esteemed, trusted customer. The Hutt was so far from either though, that selling her a thousand rusted pieces of junk wouldn’t rob him of any sleep.“And what could you want for such a grand bounty?” the Hutt asked. She gestured one fat arm towards the side and a protocol droid carried over a goblet the size of Sib Nark’s head that was filled with sloshing juice.Sib Nark began to pace, a gentle walk in a small oval before the great Hutt. “I have heard rumours that you recently found yourself in the possession of an entire crop of new slaves,” he began. “The Trade Federation does not often use slave labour, not when out own droids are so much more superior, but this might be an occasion where we make an exception.”The Hutt laughed, a deep bellowing sound that echoed off the walls and was mimicked by sycophants across the room. “Do not try to play me for a fool, Sib Nark. I was not born yesterday. Your Trade Federation has allied itself with the Falleen. You want the lizards I have.”Knowing when to change tactics in a negotiation was bread and butter to the Neimoidians. “You are most astute, great Nimas. Yes. We are attempting to curry favour with the Falleen. Your slavers recently captured a passenger ship with some important members of Falleen society. We wish to purchase these from you.”“Ah, the truth comes out at last,” Nimas said. She wriggled on her throne, mouth opening in a Hutt smile as she poured her drink down her gullet. “Yes, we still have some of these slaves.”“Some, great Nimas?” he didn’t allow the worry and disappointment to show in his voice. He needed every important member of the Falleen taken. Returning half of them would not be worth half the bounty on their safe return, nor half the praise from the sitting government.“Some,” the Hutt agreed. “The fitter ones were sold to Jabba. If you want them from him, it is he you will have to deal with. There are plenty that are still here. I could sell them to you, of course.”“That would be exceptional, great Nimas. Perhaps your senechal could provide my party with a list of names? I would like to enquire about the health of these slaves before I purchase them as well.”Sib Nark was no expert at reading Hutt body language, but he had the impression that Hutt was eager to begin their negotiations. “Of course, Sib Nark. I will call for Bween and she...” the Hutt trailed off.Sib Nark heard it a moment later, a low keening noise that rose in pitch, then lowered back down only to rise again. An alarm. His assistants tensed, his pleasure droids reached into their retractable busts and pulled out sonic suppression blasters and he noticed the bounty hunters around the room reaching for weapons of their own.“What is the meaning of this?” Nimas demanded.Sib Nark had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

“So you’re telling me,” Taylor said as she looked at all the consoles laid out before her. “That without the password I can’t remove this damned thing?”“Correction: The device can be safely removed without the proper authorization. Removing it that way though would set off the local alarm, and without the passcodes to disable that one, we will set off the fortress’ main alarms.”Taylor frowned. “And then we’ll have to fight our way out of a base filled with armed enemies out for our blood with nothing more than three pig people, that fish lady, that lazy guy and the two of us.” She pointed at each one of her assets in turn. It wasn’t terribly impressive.It wasn’t too late to pull out, but that would be a disappointing end to an otherwise successful venture. Then her eyes skimmed over a screen overlooking the slave pens. Most of them looked tired and worn out, but a few, especially the green-skinned lizard people, looked to be itching for a fight.“Hey, HK-47,” she began. “Where is the armory?”Hk-47 stood a little taller and she would have sworn that she could feel the smug satisfaction wafting off of him. “Statement: Oh Darth Khepri, few questions have brought so much joy to my circuits as that one.”

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Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten Taylor's width and breadth of experience was probably-for a girl her age-pretty terrifying. She had been in bank heists, had toppled local governments, had risen as a warlord. She'd assassinated and intimidated and fought creatures that some would call walking natural disasters.But she had never organized a revolt before. So she had to rely on the experience and know-how of HK-47, and that on its own, was proving a challenge.The robot turned his head from left to right, scanning the first batch of slaves she had moved out of the pens and lined up. Most of them were the green-skinned lizards that looked like humans with a bit of scally body paint, but a few were tentacled aliens or normal humans. “Assessment: If we give some of them thermal detonators and let them run at our enemies, we might be able to distract them long enough to evade detection.”“I’m assuming thermal detonators,” she said, trying on the new word for size. “Are something I would rather not have go off in my vicinity.”“Explanation: Thermal detonators, often called ‘fusion dets,’ or by fleeing meatbags as ‘oh god, oh god, throw it back,’ are highly unstable and highly amusing thrown explosive devices. Most can be rigged with simple but efficient dead man’s switches. If you equip your slave army with a few I can guarantee a spectacular show.” He gestured at the crate that he had pulled to the centre of the armory floor with what she felt might be longing. There were at least a dozen metal spheres there.“Let’s shelve that as plan... C,” she said. She figured that she might be able to rig something with enough insects to carry one of the grenades somewhere important, but they looked rather heavy and the few bugs that she had found were small and rather specialized in anything but carrying heavy objects around. “What about the rest of our arsenal?”When Taylor asked HK-47 to find out where the armory was, he was only too happy to go diving into the palace’s network. His discovery that there were not one but three weapons storage rooms in the building had the robot as giddy as she had ever seen him.So she told him to show her where the nearest one was, then left him to figure out how to break in without setting off any alarms while she got the first batch of slaves. She came back to find two dead pig men and an unlocked room.“Comment: The weaponry is adequate.”“Adequate, huh?” she asked.The robot nodded. “Qualification: There are thirty seven blaster rifles, none will endure heavy use. Forty-nine blasters, three are in acceptable repair. Sixty-four shock batons of various make and model, all unsanitary. A variety of gas and stun grenades. And twelve thermal detonators.”Taylor licked her lips and looked into the armory behind HK-47. For all his claims that the guns were in bad repair, that still sounded like a considerable amount of firepower. “Right. Okay, I need you to translate for me,” she said.“Statement: I am always ready to relay whatever information you wish me to. My creative interpretation protocols are second to none.”

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Xarly thought that being a slave was the most unwizard thing ever. Oh sure, he’d had a few jobs that were less than cool. Flipping rehydrated protein patties while paying for his astronavigation courses was not the highlight of his life, but he would rather be doing that kind of work instead of sitting in a cell slowly starving out. He had even lost the urge to scream at the passing pigs or to kick out and try to trip the guards.Shock prods were a great way to tell someone to chill out and wobble on the floor for a few hours.The least fun bit about being a slave so far was the whole manual labour thing. He was more of a computer and droid guy. Nice comfy chairs and air conditioned rooms. Oh, and the beatings, the beatings were also not fun.In fact, the more he thought on it, the less fun the whole thing sounded.“You’re thinking stupid thoughts again,” came a rather familiar voice from the cell across from his. A pile of blankets moved in the shadows, a slender green hand pulling them closer.“No, I’m not,” he said. “I was thinking about how much this sucks.”The blanket shifted back a bit and he got to look into the very flat eyes of the Qariman’s, the last ship he served on, chief navigator. That she happened to be his superior just a few days ago shouldn’t have mattered anymore, but the woman was downright terrifying and no amount of steel bars between him and her would make him feel safe. “Oh, really?” she asked.He tried on a smile for size. “Yeah, totally.”“We’re only stuck on a Hutt controlled desert backwater, under the wonderful care of the great fucking Nimas, the same bitch who has her pets fight to the death and then sells the videos on the holonet for some credits. The same slug that owns the biggest brothels in the sector. The same slug that sells her merchandise across the entire goddamn galaxy.”He shrank back a little at the notes of pure rage in her tone. “Hey there, love, no need for that, yeah?”“Love? Xarly, when I’m out of this cage I’m going to kill every last guard around here, and then I’m going to gut you,” she said.The fact that it wasn’t the first, or even the worse, threat she had tossed his way didn’t diminish the anger behind it. “We’ll figure something out,” he said, his voice lower and hopefully placating.Qarry might have been the toughest girl he had ever met, but even she had broken down and cried at night. They had both seen some of the others from the Qariman being shuffled about. The girls never came back intact.He was still looking for more nice things to say, because an angry girl was an affront to everything Xarly knew, when the thump-thump of footfalls came his way.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.He was ready to shrink back when suddenly he wasn’t in control of himself anymore. It was strange, almost unique. He had taken some stims that made him feel the same way some years back, though those had never made him stand up and at attention behind a door.He saw Qarry doing the same, her blanket falling off her shoulders to reveal her dirty uniform and the collar wrapped around her neck. The complete lack of emotions on her face had him suddenly feeling somewhat nervous.A pair of Gamorreans stopped by their doors and unlocked them from outside. He found himself stepping out in time with Qarry, then walking to the end of the corridor where he stood right next to her and behind a thin humanoid girl with long dark hair and a too big jacket on. Her eyes were masked by blue goggles, but the line of her mouth hinted at how displeased she was.More slaves, some of them Falleen like him and Qarry, others from the passengers aboard the Qariman or from the old stock that were there before they arrived, stepped out and formed up with them.They moved to the next row over and repeated the same action without so much as a whisper spoken between anyone. He has seen some pretty wild horror holos in his day, but this was taking the cake.The group gathered a few move slaves, then even more. Soon they were packed in tight and Xarly found himself moving forwards to help hold up a skinny Twi'lek girl. He bent over and picked her up, one hand under her knees the other behind her back. He was made to move with surprising gentleness.When he was back with the others they started to move with eerie synchronicity, all of them marching with light steps and breathing at the same pace. They moved through the rear exit, then through a corridor until, finally, they crossed a pair of slaves that he vaguely recognized guarding a corridor.They were holding rifles.The pair of them tensed as they passed, but they let them through.Xarly found himself spreading out away from the others in a room that was, to a guy stuck in a cell for a few days, pretty damned spacious. There were a few other slaves here, or at least people in rags.He bent at the knees and deposited the still silent Twi’lek girl on the ground next to a few more injured people.Then, just like that, the control was gone and Xarly almost tripped over his own feet. “What the hell?” he heard Qarry whisper from behind him.The group turned, all thirty or so of them to take in the girl with the goggles who was standing next to a rusty protocol droid. The two groups stared at each other for a long moment, neither daring to be the first to talk.Then the girl with the blue goggles spoke in a language that was at once melodic and harsh, as if someone had tuned in on three dozen holonews channels at once and decided to imitate all the non-basic languages at once.“Superfluous Greetings: My master, Darth Khepri, wishes to greet you sacks of rotting organic slurry and present to you an offer that, should you refuse, will no doubt end in your timely and delightfully gory ends.”Xarly shared a look with Qarry. Already he could smell the stress pheromones in the air from the other Falleen. He, and all the others, waited, but the droid and the girl didn’t seem to be in a hurry to speak.“So, how did you free us?” Qarry asked.The droid repeated something back in that same strange language and Darth Khepri replied.“Translation: My master did not intend to free you. Clarification: Through no fault of our own, my master was enslaved by the degenerate swine that serve the local Hutt. Fortunately my master is not as obviously incapable as you, and was able to murder those that captured her with inpunity. Addition: Unfortunately, she was collared. Our infiltration of this palace has lead us to discover that deactivating one collar will set off an alarm. The same alarm that would go off if all collars were deactivated.”There was a murmur through the crowd as they took in that bit of news. Good news at that. Xarly wasn’t too fond of his own slave collar. It was chafing against his scales a whole lot.“Then what? You’re going to turn these things off and try to run while the Hutt guns us down?” Qarry asked. “And what was that just now, with the controlling us? How did you do that?”Xarly was real tempted to shove a hand before her mouth, but that might make the scary probably-a-jedi look his way. She looked especially miffed when the droid was done translating what Qarry had said.So miffed that she turned on a heel and walked into the next room over.“Statement: As amusing as it would be to watch you all be gunned down, my master has other plans.”The girl returned, and she had blasters, at least half a dozen pressed up against her stomach so that she had one arm free. She tossed one underhand to Qarry who snatched it out of the air.“You’re arming us?” she asked before inspecting the gun. “With blasters that don’t have any power cells?”“Comment: You are a credit to your species’ benevolence. Conjecture: Certainly, a species that allows as member as idiotic as yourself to reach adulthood without being put down is both merciful and shortsighted. Statement: The power cells are in that bin.” The droid pointed to a bin off to one side.In Qarry’s defence, he hadn’t noticed it either.“Alright. We each get a blaster and a smack on the ass and are told to pray that we don’t get vaporized on the way out?”“Compliment: What a succinct way of laying out our plan.”“Beats being a slave,” Xarly said.He wasn’t sure if he should have been reassured by the number of people that agreed with him.

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