Historical Disclaimer: Since this is a holosuite, not real history, I have not made an effort to be a hundred percent historically accurate. However, any racist language is meant to be a reflection of that time, and in no way reflects my opinions.
Chapter Six: Auctioned Off
The hot sun beat down on Sisko's head as he stood on the rough wooden platform, adding to the lightheadedness caused by fever. Splinters dug into his bare feet, but the greater pain in his back eclipsed it until he barely noticed the lesser discomfort. Every motion sent new agony down his back, nearly causing him to faint. But he forced himself to stay on his feet, knowing that to fall would only invite another harsh beating. He closed his eyes, letting the sounds of the slave auction fade to a feverish dream that seemed to have little to do with him. He almost believed that he could wake and find himself back on the station. And yet when he opened his eyes and saw the auction, it was the station that seemed like a distant dream, making it harder and harder to hope for rescue.
He was brought back to some slight awareness of his senses by a tug on his chain, forcing him to walk in front of the prospective buyers and let them see his qualities. But as the bidding began, the auctioneer's rapid voice soon lulled him back into his daze of half consciousness, only to be brought sharply out of it by the sound of the voice calling out the first bid.
Had it only been his fevered mind making him think he recognized that voice, or was it possible…? The habits of a slave already beginning to be engrained in him, he kept his head half bowed, allowing only his eyes to sweep the crowd. He was beginning to think he must have been mistaken when the voice called out another bid and Sisko's eyes swung toward it, this time able to pinpoint the source.
He would never have been able to recognize Bashir under the hat, sideburns, and glasses, and yet surely the resemblance was there. And that voice…! He kept his eyes fixed on the man through the rest of the bidding as he pushed the price higher than the auctioneer had anticipated. And surely only Bashir, determined to gain protective custody of his commander at all costs, would bid so high for a slave whose scars proclaimed him a liability as an investment.
He did not again descend into his dazed stupor, even as the auctioneer moved on to the next slave. The man who had bought him bid on no one else, but Sisko knew that proved nothing.
At last the auction was over, and his purchaser came to the platform to claim his new property. Even up close, Sisko found it hard to recognize him, but that could have been partly because of the spots now dancing in front of his eyes.
Then the man's eyes swept over him in a familiar once-over, and for a moment he was sure it was indeed the doctor's gaze. His knees went weak at the sense of warmth and safety that washed over him with that knowledge, but he carefully kept all emotion from his face.
"What's your name, slave?" It was Bashir's voice, but the tone was so detached that Sisko wondered if he had been wrong. How much had the holosuite programmer known about him; would he have put a pseudo-Bashir there to get his hopes up?
"Ben, suh," he answered, keeping his eyes lowered despite his desperate need to see the man's face more closely.
"Can you drive a carriage?"
"I — c'n learn, suh."
The man nodded crisply, turning away as the auctioneer unlocked Sisko's chains and tossed him a rough cotton shirt. He pulled it on, wincing and hissing softly as the fabric touched his raw back.
"This way," the man said, and Sisko followed him to a waiting carriage.
"You can ride up with the driver," the man said with a nod in that direction before turning to enter the carriage himself apparently without a second thought.
It couldn't be Bashir, Sisko realized with despair, staring at the high step to the driver's seat and wondering how he could ever make it up. Bashir surely would have realized he was barely staying on his feet and would have made sure he boarded safely.
Even as the thoughts ran swirling through his pain-fogged brain, the driver leaned down, offering a huge brown hand. "Looks like you could use some help."
Sisko offered a small smile of relief and gratitude. Placing his hand in the driver's, he found it swallowed by the strong clasp as he was nearly lifted to the seat. "Thanks," he gasped, sitting cautiously and leaning forward to protect his back.
The driver merely nodded, shaking the reins and clucking softly to start the horse. "You don' need to be afraid of your new massa, you know," he remarked, glancing toward Sisko but keeping most of his attention focused on the road. "He ain't got any other slaves of his own that I knows of, but he's good to us darkies."
Sisko grunted softly in acknowledgement and concentrated on not falling headfirst off the seat in dizziness.
Next chapter coming next week!
I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!
Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie
