Sorry everyone, I would've updated sooner, but I attended another retreat last weekend (unrelated to school) and I went to the lake with my family for most of the February break and we don't have the internet up there. Anyway I hope you enjoy it!

I woke up late the next morning. Sun light poured into the room and I swore I heard a bird sing. I yawned, stretching out my legs and arms, rolling into my back. I felt great! No not great, amazing! My ribs were still sore, but a lot of the pain had gone away. The discomfort of my throat had passed, my muscles didn't feel stiff and my nose didn't complain when I touched it. In fact, I think most of the swelling had gone down. I sighed and put my hands behind my head. 'I wonder how Becky and Xeenan and the rest of the slaves in our compound are doing,' I thought, 'I hope everyone's alright.' Suddenly the song "If You Asked Me To" by Celine Dion popped into my head, which was good because I wanted to test my voice. I thought more about my friends as I sang.

"Use to be that I believed in somthin'...use to be that I believed in love. It's been a long time since I had that feeling. I could love someone...I could trust someone. I said I'd never let nobody near my heart again, darlin'. I said I'd never, let nobody in..."

I smiled.

"But, if you asked me to...I just might change my mind, and let you in my life for–ever–er. If you, asked me to...I just might change my heart, and stay here in your arms for–ever–er. If you, asked me to..."

As I continued and finished the song, I felt so happy and relieved. My voice sounded clearer than ever! Nothing was going to ruin my wonderful mood. I moved to where the suns shone through the window and sat in its' rays for a while. I had gotten so use to the hot, humid weather that the sun light didn't seem to bother me as much anymore.It actually felt comforting. I breathed in a deep sigh and I peered at my abdomen. It seemed like for the first time, I noticed how the two weeks of famine and slave work did on it. My stomach had caved in quite a bit and I could see my lower ribs sticking out against my skin. I looked over my arms and legs, thinking I had lost some muscle mass as well. It reminded me of a project I did in grade seven. I had to write a four page report on child poverty and slavery during the twentieth century. I had used illustrations in my report and I remembered feeling shocked and disgusted when I saw how thin and frail those children looked; they seemed to have little hope. Since then I always wondered what it was like to live like that. To be in constant fear of working day and night under horrible masters, not knowing if you're going to eat the next day. Now I understood how those children felt. Funny how cruel irony can rear it's ugly head at you. The door slid open, startling my thoughts. A male guard wearing a bone necklace and rings around his fingers walked in with a bowl and cup, set them down and left without so much as a word or glance. My small stomach grumbled as I watched the door close. 'Think Dakota,' I thought as I stood up, 'there had to be a way to get outta' this hell hole...'

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Another two days had passed in the cell and on the third morning at around five, I was roughly woken from my sleep. The guard standing above me took his hand off my shoulder.

"Time to work human," he snarled.

I was half asleep when I was taken out into the Great Hall. I saw the line of slaves making their way to the Mess Hall and several of them turned in my direction when they heard our foot steps. I saw their eyes widen and they began to mumble amongst themselves, passing the news down. I was tossed into the line and I nearly fell, but the steady hands of the slaves caught me and kept me on my feet. Some of them smiled and shook my shoulders, hissing their happiness and relief as I walked with them. A slave master roared, the slaves cringed and went silent with the guards moving us faster into the Mess Hall. I stood in front of the counter when it was my turn and waited for my breakfast. The Predator handing out the meal looked at me and smirked.

"I see you're back human," he sneered and pushed my food and drink to me, "I'm sorry the beating didn't kill you."

I grabbed my bowl and cup and stared at him, "Yah know, you might wanna have that ugly lump on your neck looked at."

His eyes widened as a hand flew to his neck.

"Oh no, I'm sorry. It's just your head," I grinned.

The slaves behind me shickered as I turned and left before he could say anything more, although I did here him yell "pauk–de human!". I searched the rows of tables for my friends. I found the two a few tables down and Xeenan was the first to see me. His eyes widened as he spoke to Becky, who turned and gasped.

"Dakota!"

I quickly sat beside the tall female and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. She hugged me so hard that when she let go, I was gasping and my ribs were aching. Both of them started asking me rapid questions, but I raised my hands to quiet them down so we wouldn't draw attention.

"Guys, shhh. Calm down," I noticed a guard staring at us suspiciously.

Becky sighed in relief and her eyes sparkled, "Oh Dakota, we thought we would never see your face again. Many of us, especially the children, couldn't sleep, we were so worried."

I smiled and shook her shoulder, "It's okay Za'Becc, I'm alright."

Xeenan raised his huge brow, "I think alright is an under statement. Just how many injuries did you get?"

"The only serious trauma I have is two broken ribs and a broken nose. But don't worry, they're healing perfectly."

Xeenan eyed me, "Did Nadar–ian'ah help you?"

I nodded, "Guys I'll tell you what happened later. Right know I have something very important to tell you–"

"No talking slaves!" yelled a guard as he raised his whip.

The three of us looked away and bowed out heads. The guard growled and went on his way. I ate my horrible breakfast and waited for a while. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Becky and Xeenan glance at me anxiously, wanting to know what I had to tell them, but they waited patiently. As I ate I watched the rest of the slaves pass me, giving me a smile or a respectful nod as they did. A few children trotted by and when they saw me their eyes lit up. I recognised them from our compound and I smiled warmly at them before they were ushered away. I casually looked around to make sure no one was listening, then I lowered my head. Becky and Xeenan followed my example.

"What I'm about to say to you guys may shock you," I took one last scan around us. Seeing the other slaves absorbed in their food, I continued, "I'm planning to escape and you two and Sor'an and Al are coming with me."

Thankfully they remained expressionless, but their eyes told me otherwise.

"I think we can pull this off," I whispered, "and Nadar–ian'ah has offered her help."

"What?" asked Za'Becc.

"Are you serious?" Xeenan questioned.

"Yes. She swore on her honour assist me."

Xeenan hissed, "She won't bother to help us. She swore on her honour to help you."

"Oh she will, she has too. There's no way I'm leaving without you four."

The male's dread locks waved as he shook his head.

"When do you plan to escape?" Becky asked.

"I'm not sure, but I know it will be soon. When I have a firm plan I'll let you know."

"What do you want us to do?"

"Just be ready," I gazed at the Yautja around me, "and don't tell anyone about this. I don't want it to spread."

Becky nodded her understanding. Xeenan nodded as well. He lowered his head and tapped his mandibles on his small teeth nervously. It was obvious he was still unsure about confiding his life to an Elder. Becky reached over and stroked his thin hand.

"It'll be alright Xeenan. I trust Dakota's judgement, she'd never steered us wrong. I know she'll see us through this."

A quiet purr came from the male's throat and he looked up at Za'Becc. He seemed to be a bit more relaxed. Becky smiled and gave his hand a comforting squeeze before she let go. I grinned.

"I'm seeing a few things to," I said, putting a hand to my chin.

They both smiled modestly and I thought they blushed. I chuckled and swallowed down the rest of my meal. I heard a cloaked slave master roar for our attention as the guards roughly shoved us out our seats and back into the Great Hall. 'This is really going to suck,' I thought. While the slaves were separated to their duties I was unexpectedly yanked out of the mob by two guards.

"Hey, what are you doing!" I yelled.

"Shut–up human!" one shouted.

Both guards pulled me down to the other end of the marbled hall. We came to a brightly polished silver door and it opened automatically when we stepped up to it. I found myself walking down a dark corridor and it took a while for my eyes to adjust. Thick steel beams arched high above us between the many carved images and symbols along the walls. Our footsteps echoed eerily through the quiet corridor as we walked on. The corridor widened and we appeared in a huge enclosed area that reminded me of an old prison. Three levels of balconies and sliding doors lined the four sides of the entire area and I noticed heavily muscled Yautja travelling in and out of the doors. I peered over the railed balcony and about a story down, I saw numerous guards and slave masters of every size, gathered on a huge platform. Some were sitting on huge pillows drinking and laughing with their friends, others were sharpening their weapons or making adjustments to their armour and whips. Hardly any of them were dressed in their full attire. I cringed when I spotted a red cloaked slave master tie pieces of bone to the ends of his whip. It was obvious where I was; the Guard's Quarters.

I was lead along the first level and into an unbelievably messy room. Large quantities of metal, rusted pieces of armour, several feet of dead wires and broken weaponry were scattered all over the place; I couldn't see the floor. I was suddenly shoved inside and I nearly fell of the sharp metal pieces.

"Clean this entire room human," growled one of the guards, "take all the metal up to the Weapons Room to be melted. Don't bother to try and escape. There are thirty guards and slave masters between you and the exit."

I was about to ask where the Weapons Room was, but they both left before I could say anything. I looked around the disarrayed room and groaned. Very carefully I moved through the room to try and find something to carry all this crap. When I found nothing suitable I picked up a long, flexible piece of metal, curved the edges so I wouldn't cut myself and loaded the scrap onto it. When the tray was full I cradled it in my arms and stepped out the door. The only question was, where was the Weapons Room and how do I get there? I looked from one side to the other and didn't see anyone on the balcony. Sighing I turned to the left and walked as quietly as I could, with the Yautja's roaring laughter from the lower level reverberating in my ears. As I came to the corner I saw the path branch off ahead of me to a low lit corridor. I contemplated if I should go down the corridor or continue along the balcony. Shrugging I and decided to try my luck in the closed in hallway. I had travelled for a few minutes when I saw a figure appear out of the dimness. The figure came towards me in a slow, limping manner and I realised it was another slave. As the slave came closer I was surprised to see he was my height, was very thin and looked very old . Winkles hung loosely under his eyes, forehead and cheeks. His hair was light grey and thin and scares covered his entire body, telling me he had been for a long time. A thick jagged scar ran over his left eye and he was bent over, his frail back showing off crooked bones. His walking told me that every time he took a step it agonised his crippled body. The gaunt male shuffled by and didn't seem to notice me. I cleared my throat to get his attention.

"Excuse me, do you know where the Weapons Room is?"

The ancient Predator stopped and raised his head. I gasped to see his left eye was milky white and his right eye was as black and empty as the darkness; like death itself was staring at me. A shiver went up my spin and I lowered my gaze.

"Such a young face," said the Yautja in a harsh decrepit voice, "why must the young suffer in this evil place?"

I could feel his dead stare upon me. I swallowed hard.

"Please," I said, making a vain attempt to hide the quiver in my voice, "could you tell me where the Weapons Room is."

The Yautja seemed to hear me that time and turned away.

"Come," he said and limped to where I entered. I followed him until we came to the balcony. He pointed to the left with long bony finger.

"Follow that path all the way to the end, " he directed in his slow rough voice, "you'll find stairs leading up to the third level. Once you reach it turn right and you will find a door with 'Weapons Room' above it."

"Thank–you," I said.

The old, abused Yautja looked at me with his dead eyes again, "So young. I have not seen a young face in a long time..."

His voice trailed off as he shuffled painfully back into the corridor. I watched him leave, feeling unbelievably sorry for him. How long had he been here? How much pain and abuse had this Yautja taken in his life? Yes, the old guy sounded crazy, but I'm sure any one would go insane if they were kept in here as long as he was. I shook my head in sadness and made my way across the balcony where I found the stairs. I climbed the six flights and emerged on the third floor, with my load starting to feel really heavy. I turned to the right and found a double door with black alien text above it. Hopefully this was it. As soon as I stepped in front of the doors they automatically slid open and I was blasted by heat. It reminded me of the Oven Room. Peering inside, I saw that one side of the wall was completely covered with shining pieces of gold and silver armour, and brightly polished masks of different sizes and shapes. Brand–new spears, knives, disks and shuriken blades of every design and size neatly lined the other wall. I noticed three Yautja working in the sweltering room. From the way they were built, I knew in a moment they weren't slaves. Two of them were loading stone holders full of scrap medal onto a low conveyer belt. The belt fed the holders into a blazing oven, flames licking the edge of the opening every time a new load travelled inside, the intense heat melting the scrap metal. The third Yautja was sitting on a stool beside a table covered in a mess of wires and metal pieces. He was picking at a very large shoulder cannon with an oddly shaped tool. All three of them were covered in sweat and soot and wore nothing but a simple loin cloth, thin sandals and leather gloves. One with short dread locks looked up at me from a stone holder he was filling and hissed.

"So this is the famous, singing human who caused such and uproar at the feast."

The Predator working on the shoulder cannon looked up, "I thought she died in the cells."

The third, who was the shortest of the three barked a laugh, ""It doesn't matter, she still got all she deserved."

I frowned, really not in the mood for this, "Where do you want these?"

The short haired Yautja pointed to a corner of the room and I gratefully dumped the scrap. My arms burned in relief after they relinquished the heavy load and I turned and left the Weapons Room before the three stooges could mock me further. I made my way down the first level and back into the cluttered room. As I cautiously moved the sharp pieces, a metal rod about the size of a thick marker fell near my feet. Examining it I found a flat square button and pressed it.

SHNAK!

Two sharp points extended from either side if the rod. I jumped in surprise and looked behind me to make sure no one saw me. Standing up, I held the light, five foot long staff at an angle and pressed it in the middle with my foot. The staff would not bend. This was a strong tool–maybe even a good weapon. I grinned and press the button again to retract the tips, then placed it in my deep pocket. With my full tray I went back out to the balcony, pleased that I had a new weapon.

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The room wasn't even half cleaned when the end of the day came along. Needless to say I was overjoyed because my back and sore ribs throbbed every time my heart beat, my arms were too tired to lift anything and my hands and fingers were full of cuts from handling the sharp scrap. I was lead into the Mess Hall for the evening meal and when I joined Becky and Xeenan, I asked about the old Yautja in the Guard's Quarters. Xeenan clicked in surprise.

"I thought that old male died a long time ago," he shook his head, "he's the guard's personal slave and has never left the quarters in his life. Just ignore him, he's crazy."

I looked at my bowl, "I think crazy is too quick of a word to use. He's probably just lonely."

The dishonoured male scooped food from his bowl, spread his mandibles and popped it in his small mouth, "What ever you say. Just be careful when you're around him alright?"

I nodded and smiled, finding his protective big brother attitude really sweet. When the meal was finished I walked with Beck and Xeenan back to our compound. I was looking forward to sleeping on a bunk bed again, even though it was a piece of shit; but it was better than sleeping on the floor. The door of our compound opened and the heavy, familiar musk reached my nose. I no longer found it revolting, it was actually quite welcoming. Before I could step inside, two meaty hands grabbed my arms and pulled me back. I made a surprised yelp and my friends turned at my cry. They gasped and were about to come after me, when the door slid in their faces. The two guards dragged my struggling self down the Great Hall towards the cells.

"What's going on!" I yelled, "what are you doing!"

"High Elder's orders," growled one with amber eyes, "he doesn't want your singing to heighten the slaves' hope. You will be confined to solitary for the rest of your days, human!"

I was thrown back into my cell, the guards laughing at me as the door slid shut. Anger rose inside my chest as I ran to the door and kicked it, causing a sharp pain to travel up my foot. I leaned my back against the door and slowly slid to the ground. I pulled out the elastic holding my hair and I ran my fingers through it, groaning in frustration. Thumping my head on the steel I reached into my pocket and took out the metal rod. I turned it over in my fingers, stared at the edged of the entrance and lowered my eyebrows in thought. I looked at the rod again, then the door. My face brightened when I got a wonderful idea. One that would allow me, Becky, Xeenan, Al and Sor'an to escape...

Celine Dion, yet another well known Canadian singer...

I know this chapter was short and boring, I had to have a chapter like this some day. But don't worry, I promise the next chapter will be more exciting. Thank–you all for waiting so patiently. Remember to review!