“Parin, don’t ever go to Miros”

I escaped Miros as a child. Despite my mother’s warning, I returned for one day.

Now I’m a slave again. No rights. No appeal. Even my last name has been stripped away.

My first master is cruel beyond understanding, but his son, Mercer, makes me an offer: he will save me, if I agree to kneel at his feet and serve him.

What choice do I have?

His rules are strict, his punishments harsh.

But he needs my help. Somehow, a connection begins to grow, and I find a purpose within my bleak captivity.

And when Miros is invaded, secrets that have been kept for one hundred solars come spilling out.

Someone wants revenge, and our fragile future may not survive.

I may not survive.

_______________

Revised and updated from the original.

★ This is a very dark romance. This retailer prohibits me from using words to clearly describe the darkness, so please see the description on my website sophiekisker dot com. ★

Excerpt

Chapter 1

“Parin, promise me you’ll never, ever, go to Miros.”

“I promise, Mommy.”

***

Parin Denos:

“Gentlemen, the Mirosian government would like to thank you for coming.” The bureaucrat looks around the table at the six men, pointedly ignoring me, the one woman who sits directly across from him. “Though your trip here takes a fraction of the time it used to take, thanks to our paeolate”—he beams at us as though he mined the mineral and painted it on the side of the ship himself—“we know that it’s taking valuable time away from your business.”

Jerome, the head of the Research and Development team of Unitronics nods, acknowledging the formalities.

“Let me get right to the point. You say your company can manufacture retrieval tags, for marking property in the event it is stolen, and that these tags will allow the items to be traced up to a light-year away. That is a remarkable improvement in distance on anything currently available. Our government would like to know if these tags can be inserted into a human, allowing us to locate her as far away?”

Jerome looks confused. “Well,” he says after a pause, “they’re waterproof, so we would assume so. But we haven’t done any tests on living beings.”

“We would be willing to provide subjects for whatever testing you need. But you also claim these tags disable the device until it is recovered. Again, does this apply to humans it might be inserted into?”

The entire team stares at him awkwardly until Leo responds. “What exactly are you thinking of?”

The official clears his throat. “Gentlemen, I’ll be plain. The Mirosian Treaty of 2274 says that even if a woman leaves Miros, no other planet will recognize her as free. We want to insert these chips into all our slaves, to be able to locate and retrieve runaways throughout the galaxy. And ideally, we’d like to be able to disable them in some way so that they can’t escape our retrieval teams.”

The room is silent. I can’t stand it anymore. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

He ignores me. “This offer can be an extremely lucrative contract with Miros. Your company stands to make an enormous amount of money. Other companies have found that their business interests can align with ours, even when there’s a difference in philosophies.”

“Difference in philosophies?” I’ve heard enough. “You invite us to come here to listen to a business proposal, and it turns out you want us to help you hunt runaway slaves across the galaxy?” Tom lays a hand on my arm, but I shrug him off and look around the room. “You guys won’t seriously consider taking this contract, would you?” I pin Jerome with my gaze. He’s the team leader. It’s his decision. I’m only the accountant, not even one of the development team.

“Gentlemen, having a woman in here complicates negotiations. Perhaps if she left, it would make the decision easier.” The Mirosian official is practically sneering.

I fight back a rising anger that threatens to burst into flame. This time, it’s Jerome who lays his hand on my arm. “It won’t matter if she’s here or not. The answer is no. We will never participate in furthering this type of system. I’m sorry you spent so much time and money to bring us here. We’ll be leaving Miros on the next available ship.” He rises.

“This will bring a lot of money to a company.”

“But not to ours. Goodbye.”

The tension is thick in the room as the official leaves.

“Fuck!” says Tom. “He thought our company would help him with this?”

“Lots of other firms do business with Miros. The money is too good, so they overlook the moral issues. I’m sorry, guys. They told me they wanted to discuss using the tags to retrieve stolen property. I never in my wildest dreams imagined it would be women. I guess I’ll go see when the next ship leaves.”

The door to the room opens, and we all turn, expecting to see the government employee again. Instead, it’s a group of soldiers. The one in front zeros in on me.

“Parin, daughter of Lisil, both owned by Jacksan?”

“Who are you?”

“Is that your identity?”

“Those were my parents’ names, but I don’t understand what you mean.”

The soldiers push my co-workers away and make a circle around me. “Parin, slave of Jacksan, you are under arrest for being an escaped slave.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I look around wildly for someone to explain what’s going on. They pull my arms behind my back and cold, rigid metal encircles my wrists. I tug reflexively, but there’s no give.

“Routine screening of all visitors to Miros revealed your identity. You and your mother escaped Miros twenty-four solars ago with the help of your owner, but you are legally regarded as a slave of Miros no matter where you’ve been living. Even if you had left legally, when your master died, you should have been returned to Miros.” As they push me towards the door, two of my colleagues block them. The soldiers pull their blasters and aim them at the would-be rescuers. The men move back, their hands up.

“Wait! Stop! Where are you taking me?”

“We’re taking you to a processing center. First, they’ll determine how much you are worth, and then you’ll be sold at auction.”

My knees buckle.

***

Someone pushes me into a vehicle and shoves me to the floor. At some point, I lose my shoes. I’m hauled up the stairs of a big white building and hustled down another corridor. At every step of the way, I protest and struggle, and I’m completely ignored. At length, I arrive at a desk where a sour-faced man looks up.

“That her?”

“Yeah,” says one of the soldiers.

The man hands over a pair of scissors, and before I realize what’s happening, they’re pulling off my skirt. The scissors make short work of my tunic, and it falls as scraps on the floor. Then my underwear joins the pile, and it’s all kicked into the corner. When they’re done, the soldier replaces the cuffs with wide metal bands around my wrists and ankles. With a tap to something strapped to his arm, the bands on my wrists snap together behind my back.

“Let me see the Primian ambassador!” I plead. “He’ll clear this all up!”

“Which cell, sir?”

The official snorts. “She’s escaped. Take her to the barn.” The guards start to drag me away. “Hang on. I need her collar.”

Every woman on Miros, slave or guest, is required to wear a collar. Women who visit are issued plain black leather collars for their stay and are required to wear them at all times in public. One soldier unlatches the buckle on the well-worn collar I was issued yesterday and tosses it back onto the desk.

They pull me down a hall and through a series of doors, before emerging into the sunshine behind the building. Half-carried and half-dragged, I’m brought to a large, dilapidated structure. It’s dim inside, lit only by long rows of grimy windows. A line of mesh cages goes down the middle of the room, and it’s sweltering hot. When a guard opens one, he shoves me through so that I stumble and fall to the hard floor. My ankle cuffs snap together, and the door rattles shut.

A man in civilian clothes joins the guards.

“I’m the Minister of the Slavery Oversight Board. I don’t usually concern myself with runaways, but you’re a unique case. Your father, Jacksan Delis, purchased your mother, Lisil, in 2322. You were born a little over a solar later. When you were two, your father somehow managed to smuggle your mother and you off the planet. He changed his name to Denos, and lived with your mother and you, pretending to be a legal, free family.” His face wrinkles up at the word ‘free’. “But you and your mother were never free. Now that you’re back on Miros, you’ll reenter life as a slave.”

He peers down at me while I try to comprehend what he’s saying.

“As a slave, you have no rights, no property, no freedom, not even clothing, besides what your new master decides to give you. Your last name has been removed from all the records we can find. From now on, your preferences, your likes, and dislikes, are irrelevant. Your comfort is irrelevant. You have no right to say ‘no’ or stop what is happening. You will breed if he desires you to breed. He may sell you any time he desires, for any reason. He is only expected to meet your basic physical needs so that you remain healthy, and to refrain from permanent, intentional, physical injury.”

I screw up my eyes because maybe I can block out the words if I can’t see him. It doesn’t work.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be auctioned to the highest bidder.” He turns and walks away.

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