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For copyright and disclaimers, please see chapter one.
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7 – Eighth week, Third Year
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Wednesday, October 18, 2000: (Gregorian)
Hogwarts, Headmistress' office: 08:06
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"Found her!" Callista cried hoarsely, reading from the Headmaster's journal, "September first, 1379. At a quarter to five o'clock tonight, the stablehands brought up a young, black-haired girl wearing a short grey skirt. She was unconscious, the hands reported she appeared in midair in a ball of golden light."
She cleared her throat, "Madame Flamel is assuming her care. She reports steady pulse and breathing. We must now wait for her to awaken, to explain her most curious equipage, including two wands."
"In other news..." Callista looked up, "They had a record firstie class, fifteen boys and three girls. What do we tell the students?"
"We have found her, finally. Is there anything else?" Minerva asked.
"Yes, on the fourth, she awakens," Callista mused, reading the entry, "And on the fifth, there's mail! One is addressed 'Wayne, ROT13', whatever that is, the other is to 'Hogwarts, Marauder'." She looked up as Remus started to laugh.
"Minerva, you remember the Marauders?" Remus asked rhetorically, motioning for the letter. "Apparently so does Miss Wayne." He tapped the paper with his wand, telling it, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." From a blank page, words unfolded:
September 5, 1379
Dear Hogwarts:
Well, I'm alive, and after complaining so long about the fourteenth century, here I am! Ironic, isn't it?
Now, one thing I don't want you to do is to go off half-cocked on dear Miss Lucille Malfoy. That little bitch is MINE! So, what happened? For those of you who have a bit of interest, she ambushed me in the girl's toilet (sorry, loo for you Brits). I didn't hear the whole spell, as the train's brakes hit right then, but it was 'Chron...something'.
Boom, I dropped in the mud (not a way to travel I recommend!), and woke up in the infirmary. I'm in with the Slythies, after having convinced them of my bonafides (great bunch, too!), and I'm trying not to let anything slip. It's tough, though, when they don't know continents exist!
I'm going to see if there's a spell that will send me back, otherwise, I'll go the tech route. Somewhere out in this wide galaxy there's a time gizmo I can build!
Please pass the other letter on to Tomas and my family, and I'll write again when I know more. Love to all,
Mattie
PS: Remember, Malfoy's MINE!
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Minerva McGonagall marched into the Great Hall, rapping her knife on a goblet, and calling, "Attention, please. We have found Miss Wayne." She waved the parchment, "She sent us a letter, and if you will all quiet down, I shall read it." She nodded; starting, "September fifth, 1379." Screams erupted, and Minerva used the knife again, "If I may continue? Thank you. It continues, 'Dear Hogwarts: Well, I'm alive...'"
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The Gryffindors were edging away from Lucille Malfoy as she looked about. Sprink called out, "Oy, sis! You wanna arrest this twit while she's still alive? A letter from the victim regarding battery by spell's gotta be good enough."
"It wasn't me! Pritchard cast 'Imperio' on me!" she said desperately.
"And why should I want Wayne out?" he asked. "She was generous to me regarding a debt her first year. What is my motivation?" Pritchard handed his wand to Professor Vector, "Please check the spells, see if I've used any Unforgivables." Malfoy took that chance to run for it, Sprink and the other werewolves transforming and giving chase, catching her just outside the doors to the Great Hall.
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Wednesday, October 18, 2000: (Gregorian)
Hogwarts, Headmistress' office: 07:46
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Minerva held her breath as she reopened the Headmaster's journal, paging forward to October. On the first, she found an interesting entry. She cleared her throat, and addressed the assembled staff, "I have a message from Headmistress Oldridge. Apparently Miss Wayne is being very tight with her information. She writes:"
October first, 1379
Headmistress, year 2000,
Whilst I know you have a name, Miss Wayne is reluctant to reveal it. It is a bit unusual in conversation, however, I cannot fault her reason. She requested that this information be held private, I must trust your discretion.
Miss Wayne has somehow acquired what she calls a 'starship'. It is a large white six sided box-like thing of about fifty yards in length. She went 'off planet' over this past weekend, I know not where, and returned with this creation and a passenger. This passenger is named Cassidy Yates, a young woman of about twenty years, and is supposedly from even farther afield, in the twenty-fourth century. Given Miss Wayne's understandable fears, they are limiting their conversations; Miss Yates has declined (politely) invitations to sup with us.
In payment for a few hours of Miss Anne Bundy's assistance, they have gifted us with six hundred sheets of the finest parchment! They suggest that we use this to write letters to kinfolk in your century, I think this a marvelous idea. They believe they shall have their 'gizmo' (whatever that might mean!) ready by the Easter break, and shall 'play postman' (again, no idea!) at that time.
Headmistress Oldridge,
Hogwarts School of Wizardry
"Well, what do we tell the students?" Minerva asked.
"I think only that Miss Wayne's efforts proceed apace, and that some of them should expect to receive mail from their ancestors about Easter," Severus mused. "Have we a class list for that period?"
"I believe so, although we shall have to hunt for it. What is the status of Miss Malfoy?"
Tonks spoke up, "Her solicitor has disputed the letter, claiming forgery. He insists that we produce Miss Wayne as a witness, or he will move to drop all charges. I don't know if we can hold her until Easter, he's somehow arranged for both Weasley and Umbridge to be assigned her case. I don't know who the third judge is, d'you know if there's any way we can contact Miss Wayne?"
"I do not know," Severus mused. "I shall see if the Waynes know of a way."
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Wednesday, October 19, 1379: (Julian)
Scotland, Doune Castle: 10:13
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The rider was known to the castle guards, he was admitted to the Royal Sorcerer's presence immediately. He knelt, and said, "Milord, a message," passing a small scroll.
"Excellent," he hissed. "You may go."
"Thank you, milord," stuttered the frightened rider, glad to be allowed out without being turned into a rabbit and eaten. Fortunately, the wizard had forgotten his presence.
"Reveal yourself!" he commanded the parchment with a tap of his wand; then he sank into his chair. 'A time traveler at Hogwarts,' he mused. 'How can I take advantage of this? I must have her in my grasp,' he decided. 'Once I have her, I can then play her how I wish. She is naught but a young child, easily bent to my wishes. Yes, that's the first step. Now, who has children attending that school that I might manipulate?'
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Thursday, October 19, 2000: (Gregorian)
Hogwarts, Headmistress' office: 21:35
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Minerva had gotten into the habit of checking the Headmaster's Journal every few days. Settling down with a good cup of tea, she opened the 1379 volume, flipping to the last week of October. 'Rather like a mystery novel, I don't want to read the conclusion too soon!' she mused.
Tuesday, 25 October, 1379
Dear Miss M,
When Miss Wayne came to call yesterday, I expressed my frustration regarding your form of address. She explained (after some five minutes of reflection), that you came from a very old, 'pureblood' wizarding clan in Scotland, that you kept a complex chart of genealogy, and she was trying to recall your family tree. However, she conceded it would be safe enough to reveal that you were yet unmarried, and that I could use 'M'. I do not know if this is your Christian or surname, so I will have to be content with this.
She was unusually pensive after a conversation with Alastair (I must remember to dust him!); I know that she consults with him. Perhaps he will be more forthcoming with you – she has stated that he does exist in your time.
Headmistress Oldridge
She turned to look up at Alastair, who was snoring on his shelf. Turning the page, she found another entry:
Wednesday, 26 October, 1379
Dear Miss M,
After the evening meal, I noticed Miss Anne Bundy quietly slipping out after Miss Wayne. Feeling bold, I cast a memory charm on myself as I followed, and I am glad I did, as it was a most unusual evening!
Miss Bundy, Miss Wayne and her guest Miss Yates were a bit surprised at my appearance, but received me with all due courtesy. Miss Yates, an attractive young lady of some twenty summers offered me a seat. She apologized for not offering refreshments other than water, stating their menu was extremely limited. After passing about refreshingly cold, clear water, they inquired into my business, offering their assistance.
I informed them this was a social call, and Miss Yates mentioned that she thought 'The plan would work, after some upgrades.' They explained that they had come up with a tentative plan for Miss Bundy to move to the twenty first century, but that they would need improved devices in order to carry it off successfully. Miss Bundy was, of course, extremely excited, as I know she has pined for the opportunity. In truth, whilst I am somewhat jealous of her opportunity, they do require my assistance, emphasizing that Miss Bundy must be dead to the world. Their idea requires my skill in Transfiguration, a skill that Miss Wayne cheerfully admits she is sorely lacking in.
Minerva snorted, 'Some things never change,' she thought, continuing:
Their idea requires the sacrifice of a pig, due to an equal 'mass' and 'cardiovascular system'. When I requested definitions of these, they delicately explained that 'mass' was roughly equal to weight, and that an 'autopsy' might be performed. After more long-winded explanations, the two correcting each other, it turns out that an 'autopsy' is an examination of the dead, and the other is one's heart and lungs! I gather a pig's is similar to our own, which offended Miss Bundy, thinking herself insulted.
Minerva chuckled, imagining the scene.
In sum, the idea is that we shall transfigure a dead pig into Miss Bundy's duplicate, dress it in her identical clothing, and when all is ready, she shall throw herself off the girls' tower in despair. With great sorrow, we shall bury her (the pig), whilst Miss Bundy herself enters 'stasis' on board ship, there to sleep for six hundred years.
Minerva guffawed, 'Clever plan!', and read on.
Miss Bundy was reassured that for her, the nap would be the snap of a finger. We were very cautiously informed that stasis "stopped time", however, there was absolutely NO possibility of her returning – she would be leaving family and friends, and all she knew forever if she chose to take this journey. History would regard her as having died that night. They also informed us that the future was not all honey, there had been much strife, and horrible wars had been fought, with millions of dead! It was not a decision to be made on the turn of a leaf, that until we transfigured the pig, she could change her mind, and naught would be lost.
'Sensible,' she thought. 'Give the girl plenty of time to decide.'
Miss M, I must ask you to keep this conversation privileged to yourself only. The next bit served to shock and horrify both Miss Bundy and myself. I have no doubt that it will you, also.
Minerva steeled herself, and read on.
Miss Bundy, in an effort to change the subject, inquired after a beautiful silver necklace Miss Yates wore, asking if she might get one. This question evoked a strong, almost violent reaction from the both, saying 'No, you don't!'. Miss Yates is a slave, and she is locked into a collar they cannot remove.
After we collected ourselves, Miss Wayne stalking about like a caged beast in her fury, they explained that freeing Miss Yates was a long, expensive and complex process, encumbered by treaty and law, and enforced by many years of trade and custom. They might fail, but were still determined to make the attempt.
It seems that a school trip Miss Yates was on had been attacked and overcome by pirates, and despite valiant attempts at defense, the crew and passengers had been sold off to slavers. She was unaware that she had somehow traveled back in time a thousand years until she met Miss Wayne, and had not seen her schoolmates, as she had been bought and sold several times over the years. Her previous owner had been frightened into gifting her to Miss Wayne. (Very understandable, she can seem most lethal.) They are forced to play Mistress and Slave, a situation neither likes, but must live with temporarily until they can create their device and return to their proper times.
Miss Yates did mention that groups controlling different stars have different policies and law regarding piracy and slavery, using a phrase 'law stops with enforcement'. Miss Wayne clarified that it was like the situation now, where different lords have different laws, and without a strong king, there was no central law. Treaties between stars also play a part; if they were to go where slavery was banned, existing treaty may enforce her status on Miss Yates, or it may not.
Both Miss Wayne and Miss Yates did confirm that existing law in their home times prohibited slavery. Miss Yates primary problems at home would be social, as the collar is instantly recognizable. It did explain another question we had, the differences in dress. Due to her situation, Miss Yates is forced to wear yellow, the 'slave colour'. I must remember not to mention this to Professor Binns, the Hufflepuffs would never recover.
'That's when Binns is from? I never knew!' Minerva thought.
Once again, Miss M, I must entreat you to keep this matter silent. While we will never meet, I feel a kindred spirit with you.
On a lighter note, Miss Wayne and Miss Yates inform me that while we cannot hear, we shall be able to see each other on the day of transference. While you cannot write me, perhaps we can identify each person with signs of some sort? While we will be 'grieving' the recent 'death' of Miss Bundy, I think this is something we can do.
Awaiting the day I will see you, I remain,
Headmistress Alberta Oldridge
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Friday, October 21, 1379: (Relative)
Sol system, asteroid belt: 18:04
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Cassidy and Mattie drifted, tethers attached to their ship suits, as they guided another asteroid into the cargo bay. "I figure that small one will give us three tons of tungsten, about forty all together," Cassidy said. "You want to practice piloting this time while I smelt?"
"Sounds like a plan," Mattie said. "We should be able to afford a stasis field for the auto doc."
"They're expensive," Cassidy warned, as she followed Mattie back into the cargo bay. She touched the switch to seal the hold and repressurize.
Mattie watched the indicator lights as Cassidy secured the cargo. The bay sealed with a thump, and the faint hiss of gas could be heard in the white-painted compartment.
"Before we start, Mistress, could you unlock my suit first?" Cassidy asked, "I've really gotta pee."
Mattie floated over to the hatch, waving Cassidy through, "We're back to that, are we? All right, but I thought we had this settled, we use 'Mistress' and 'slave' only when we're 'onstage'. Once we clear atmosphere, I don't want to hear it."
Cassidy pouted, "I guess my wearing the corset's out of the question?"
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Friday, October 21, 1379: (Relative)
Epsilon Eridani III, approach orbit: 19:27
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"Please state your registration, cargo and purpose," the bored controller said over the comm.
"The Cassidy Yates, registered in this system, one personal slave, no other cargo," Mattie said as Cassidy knelt behind her, head down for the benefit of the controller's view. She grinned to herself as Mattie continued, "Purpose is ship upgrades and repairs, control."
"I'm reading a Power Ring, Yates," and Mattie replied, "That's mine. Do I have clearance?"
"Of course, honored Lantern!" the frightened controller said. "Please take vector Charlie three to bay 1186, and welcome!"
"Thank you, control. Yates out." She said dryly, touching controls, asking, "How'd I do?"
Cassidy stood and stretched, saying, "Close enough for government work, Mistress." Mattie groaned, "Another phrase that will not die. It takes us longer to land than to get to the planet!"
"Isn't space travel fun?" Cassidy asked, adjusting her tiny 'dress' and trying to pull it lower. "Couldn't you have gotten one a little longer?"
"Want the yellow one instead?" Mattie asked with a grin, and Cassidy shuddered. "Go get your fancy black mask; I want to see how that goes on. Knowing you, my demented masochistic slave, you're going to want it nice and tight, so you'll need my help."
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"Thirty seconds to landing," Mattie said. Cassidy braced herself against the bulkhead. Slowly, carefully, Mattie aligned the ship with the faded marks on the bay, switching off the antigrav a second too early and causing a 'thump' as they landed. "Sorry," she said as the boarding hatch signaled. She left the flight deck as Cassidy secured herself to the bulkhead, a proper slave.
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(I see nothing out of order), the Customs inspector said, returning the record chips. (That was a rough landing, however. It might have damaged bay equipment.)
"I am here for maintenance work," Mattie admitted. "I'll add that to the list of things to inspect. Will you be doing the pre-launch inspection?"
(Very possible. How long will you be staying?)
"I'll only be here a couple days, and I certainly want to be a good citizen," Mattie allowed. "Perhaps you might hold on to a deposit toward any possible bay damage? Also, where might I contract for a bay umbilical? Water, power, the like."
(I can arrange that, ship-mistress. Together, your docking fees will be... three hundred seventy five grams, payable in advance.)
Mattie counted coins, "A bit more toward the damage my poor landing caused. You have been most kind, dock master...?"
(H'resh'fl, ship-mistress. You have my com-code if I might assist. Good day.)
Mattie saw him out, raising the boarding hatch. She strolled to the flight deck, releasing Cassidy and shoving her through the hatch. Once the hatch was closed, her hands were released, and she dived for her legal pad, writing:
How much did you give him?
"Five hundred grams. Is that the right bribe?"
She gave a thumbs up, and wrote:
He'll love you for at least two days, Mistress. You overpaid a bit, it wasn't that bad a landing. Twenty percent instead of twenty-five is normal. Still, he'll smooth the road. He's a T'Cha, they can be bought, but they're honest politicians, it's their sense of honor. He'll also give you an honest inspection, and handle the dock-apes. Make sure you add the landing system to the inspection list. Can I use the head first?
"Go ahead, but the bank van is due any minute to pick up our deposit. I'll wait for you in the cargo bay; don't forget to secure your hands."
Who's the masochistic slave here?
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"Any suggestions as to contractors?" Mattie asked as she checked her equipment. The white low-cut shift they argued over had yellow trim, a waist-high slit up the back, allowing Cassidy's hands to be secured to the belt she wore. The dark metal of the tight belt showed plainly through the thin material.
She pulled her blonde hair back, trying to get trapped hair free, and wrote:
No, you can always go with the dockyard contractors, Mistress. They'll have a kickback arrangement, but they'll be the fastest in getting it done. You can save some money by hunting out contractors, but that wastes time we don't have. Six of one...
"... half dozen of another. Another moldy phrase," Mattie commented.
Has the bank picked up the deposit? Mattie nodded, Cassidy added, You've paid off the dockmaster, so we should be good, and the contractors are bonded by the port. Leave the ship open and you can go shopping!
"Puh-lease," Mattie said, taking the legal pad and securing it.
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"Dock master!" Mattie called, "A moment of your time?" The salmon colored alien paused, (Yes, ship-mistress? How might I assist you?) The small tentacles on his mouth waved as the two approached.
"I was hoping you might have a recommendation for an honest contractor, Dock master," she said. "I was hoping to get this work finished by tomorrow. I know you're extremely busy, but I was hoping you might point me in the right direction, as I'm by myself." She ignored Cassidy, kneeling at her feet in the dust.
(I happen to be going that way myself. Perhaps I might introduce you?)
Mattie smiled, "Most appreciated, Dock master."
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(Yes, we can accommodate you, ship-mistress, on most of this. Unfortunately, the stasis module for the auto-doc is out of stock at the moment.) The contractor, not surprisingly another salmon-colored alien, paused regretfully.
"Pity, I was hoping to get this done on this trip. Perhaps you know another that might have the unit in stock? When it comes to my health, I want only the best, you see."
(Quite understandable. I believe I know where I might locate one. It would, unfortunately, carry a slight rush charge.)
"Perfectly reasonable, as long as the rest of the work is completed and inspected by my deadline." Mattie paused delicately, "Perhaps a small deposit might help to expedite matters?"
(On the total of ... twelve hundred kilograms? I think a deposit of forty kilograms most reasonable, ship-mistress.)
"Unfortunately, my slave is weak; twenty is all she can carry. They are yours, of course. Perhaps another twenty tomorrow morning, and the final amount when the honorable Dock-master signs off on the inspection."
The contractor grunted, (Agreeable. Head up, girl.) Cassidy raised her head, keeping her eyes down. (Yes, she is a weak one. Perhaps you would like to exchange her for another?)
"I thank you for the suggestion, but she is guarantee on a wager. A poor slave, I admit, but I might as well use her." Mattie addressed the slave, "Head down, girl, are you getting ideas above your station again? Back straight, chest out, and stand, so I might pass this gentlebeing his deposit." She reached for the bag Cassidy carried about her waist.
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Saturday, October 22, 1379: (Relative)
Epsilon Eridani III, near bay 1186: 07:51
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Mattie rolled over on the thin bed, wrapping a blanket around her as she woke to the sun entering the room. Across the room, Cassidy rolled to her belly in her sleep, a blanket wrapped around her where she had chained herself. Mattie had offered to share the bed, but Cassidy had shaken her head violently, glanced around the room, then attached her leash to a ring and resecured her wrists behind her. 'I'm going to have to talk to that girl,' Mattie thought.
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(Good morning, Mistress), the slave behind the counter said. (Yourself and a slave for two days in room 16, that will be three grams), tapping the slot in the lockbox.
"I paid two grams last night."
(I am certain you did, Mistress, but my Master's records show you owing three grams, one for each of your two days, and one for your slave for two days.)
"I don't have time to argue," Mattie said, waving Cassidy over and digging in her coin pouch. She extracted a coin, "I'll have to return to the ship for more. I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Here's one," dropping it in the slot.
(Mistress, if you would please chain your slave here, as a guarantee?) Mattie sighed, and knelt Cassidy against the wall, snapping a ring around her neck and pocketing the key, and Mattie squeezed her shoulder as she left.
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Cassidy waited as the slave worked behind the desk. After five minutes or so, the Master came out and noticed her. (Another guarantee slave?) he asked jovially. (How long has her owner been?) He walked out from behind the desk, forcing her head up. (You're a common slave. I can get fifteen hundred grams for you.) He looked at his slave, (Clearly abandoned. What room was it?)
(Room 16, Master, but her Mistress has only been gone five of fifteen...)
(Nonsense, a good thirty time-parts. She's clearly abandoned the slave.) He used a master key to unlock Cassidy, grabbing her leash near her collar and telling his slave, (I'll be at Far'kar's selling her off. Thirty time-parts, now!)
(Master, I beg of you, please...) is the last Cassidy heard. She hung back, and the Master snarled at her, (Reluctant, eh? Perhaps this will teach you to move when your betters say move!) lashing her calves with the end of her leash chain.
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Mattie waited impatiently as the slow moving truck passed, then sprinted across the street, running down the street and dodging vehicles and pedestrians. 'I thought I was in better shape than this' she panted, arriving at bay 1186. She waited impatiently for two workers with an antigrav to carry something up into the cargo hatch, dashing past them into the crew cabin, and down the passage to the Owner's cabin. She forced herself to stop, and carefully entered the combination to enter, and then another to open the safe. Pulling down a bag, she stuffed about six kilos in, closing the safe and locking the cabin behind her.
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Cassidy was terrified. Appraised as 'an ordinary slave', she had been sold for sixteen hundred grams, her chains increasing her price, and was now being carried deep below ground.
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Mattie re-entered the cheap 'hotel', only to find Cassidy missing. "Where is my slave?" she asked the trembling slave.
(Mistress was gone more than thirty time-parts, so Master declared her slave abandoned.) The slave swallowed nervously, edging as far away as the leash would allow. (Will... will Mistress be paying for her room?)
Mattie glared at the slave, then threw three grams on the desk, "Paid in full. Where is your Master, and what does he look like?"
(Master is a large humanoid, with facial hair and wearing gold in both ears), the slave replied. (Master has gone to Far'kar's Slave Emporium to sell the abandoned slave, three streets south, one west. This slave is sorry, Mistress.)
"Not your fault," she said, taking to the sky on a shaft of green light.
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"There we are..." Mattie crooned to herself, seeing the large display of caged slaves and yellow awnings where business was conducted. 'Time to make an entrance' as she landed in a blaze of green light, asking, "Is this Far'kar's Slave Emporium?"
(It is!) smarmed an employee. (How might I assist you, noble Lantern?)
"Your manager, please, and would you point out the owner of Tik'mit's House of Rest?"
(The honorable Tik'mit himself is taking his pleasure right over there, noble Lantern. Might I assist you further?)
"I would appreciate the courtesy of two things. Tik'mit seems to have sold my slave to you; the transaction was within the last sixty time-parts. Please make sure she is not mistakenly sold to another. Secondly, my ship's comm is off line until the repairs are complete. Would you call Dock master H'resh'fl?"
(Most certainly, honored Lantern!) Mattie nodded, and strolled over to join Tik'mit, who was eying her. "Honorable Tik'mit? Might I join you?"
(Please do, honored Lantern. How might this poor servant assist you?)
"A bit of an accounting problem. I stayed at your fine establishment last night with my slave. Upon leaving, I discovered that my room had not been credited, no doubt due to coins sticking together. It happens all the time, I'm sure."
(Of course, of course. Which room was that, honored Lantern?)
"Room 16. I didn't want to walk all the way back to my ship, it's being worked on, you see." Tik'mit swallowed nervously, "Now, I went to pay for the room, three grams this time, only to find out I had spent more money than I anticipated in this fine marketplace. I was greatly embarrassed, of course, so I told your slave I would return shortly with more cash, since you run a cash-only policy."
Tik'mit swallowed nervously, as Mattie continued, "Upon returning, I was surprised to discover that my slave had been taken. I am holding her as guarantee on a debt, so it would be embarrassing to lose her, you understand. Now, as I have given your slave a total of six grams and lost my slave... Ah, Dockmaster H'resh'fl! Please join us, how goes your day?"
(Perhaps the room charges might be waived?) Tik'mit said nervously, Mattie replying "Ah, but your charges were one gram each night for me and half a gram each night for my slave. I do not wish to cheat you, and the slave cannot be blamed when the coins stick together."
(Of course), the Dockmaster said. (Is the slave in question available?)
"I did ask for her to be set aside. How much did you receive for her?"
(Sixteen hundred grams, including her chains), Tik'mit said, (But I thought she was abandoned! It happens all the time!)
(I am certain it does, but perhaps you might invest in a new time-piece?) H'resh'fl said. He bellowed, (Bring out the slave in question!)
Cassidy was brought out, Mattie asking, "Dock master, does she match my cargo listing?"
H'resh'fl nodded, (She does, I recall her face-mask.) He mused, (The slave house is not at fault for buying the slave mistakenly. I believe that if Tik'mit refunds the sixteen hundred grams, and the overpayment so they have a bit of profit, matters should be settled."
"I am out three grams, plus the damage to the slave's shift."
(My apologies for the error, perhaps this might help to purchase a newer shift), Tik'mit offered a fifty gram coin. 'Better a coin than my life!' he thought.
(This worked out well. Let me update the slave's records while she washes in the fountain), the Dockmaster said, motioning over the manager. Mattie gently kicked Cassidy, and she scrambled to her feet, dashing over to the fountain.
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Saturday, October 22, 1379: (Relative)
Epsilon Eridani III, near bay 1186: 10:01
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(Matters proceed apace), H'resh'fl said. (Have you the second payment?) Mattie waved the bank chip from her earlier deposit as he pointed at a shop, (That would look good on your slave.)
"Hmm, Not very practical for work, though," Mattie said, regarding the wispy-thin white wrap, then eyeing Cassidy. "Come along, slave, I won't let you get this one dirty," she grinned, pulling Cassidy inside.
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Sunday, October 23, 1379: (Relative)
Epsilon Eridani III, Bay 1186: 06:05
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Mattie rolled over in her bunk and yawned, then ducked into the head for a quick shower. Somewhere on the ship a saw whined, and beings cursed. Cassidy was still tightly gagged and bound, insisting on it until they reached orbit. She rolled over, wrapped in her blanket on the floor, still fast asleep. Her hands released, Mattie asked "How is my favorite masochist today?"
Cassidy shook her head, still half asleep. Coffee? Food? She wrote on her pad.
As she unlocked the gag, Mattie commented, "You're making this more complicated than it needs to be. Besides, I got you a pretty dress yesterday."
You can wear it, Mistress!
"Not my size," she replied, waving a replicated drink. "This supposedly tastes like strawberries, or would you prefer the blueberry one?"
Cassidy shrugged, and took the 'strawberry' one. I hope the blueberry was better, she wrote. We really need to improve the food on this bucket.
"About the same as the chocolate, unfortunately. First things first, though. Let's get the doc fixed up, and if we have time we'll see what we can do about the food. Quick shower, your shift is in the head." She waved the gag, "Ready for silence again?"
Nice and tight, please, Mistress!
"You're crazy, you know that? I don't know why you seem to like wearing a gag." Cassidy shrugged, and knelt.
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"I want you to keep an eye on the work crews, especially that auto-doc. Our lives depend on that thing, so I'm going to volunteer you." Cassidy nodded, shackling herself. "Ready, my little spy?"
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"There you are!" Mattie said, asking the Contractor, "Could you use another warm body? I need to take care of some business, and I want this slave to work."
(I'll put her to work. Slave, check off this inventory, and see if it's all here. We have a deadline for your Mistress' ship, and I won't miss it because of you!) He leaned over and released her hands, thrusting forms at her.
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Sunday, October 23, 1379: (Relative)
Epsilon Eridani III, Bay 1186: 19:44
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The engine noise died away, Dockmaster H'resh'fl saying, (I believe that concludes our tests), passing her a clipboard with the appropriate signatures.
"The auto-doc?"
(We tested it on your slave for several hours. The machine recorded a complete image, a test, to the subatomic level, as it should.)
"You could not test it without using a live subject?"
(Not and gain a full image. It repaired several small problems she had and then recorded the image, so you will always be able to restore her as a perfect slave. Why are you concerned, she is only a slave.)
"She was used without my permission," and H'resh'fl nodded, (Ah, I thought you were aware of the testing procedure. My apologies, still, there is no damage to the slave, and the auto-doc tests out fully functional.)
"Then I believe this is yours," Mattie said, passing the contractor a bank draft. He said, (A pleasure doing business with you.) Mattie stopped him, passing him a few coins, "A drink for your crew, on me, for the wonderful job they did."
(Most appreciated.) He ejected a chip, (Your receipt, engineering logs and other bits of foolishness. Come back again soon!) His tech exited the ship, Mattie sending Cassidy up the gangplank. Hands were shaken again and Mattie boarded her ship, closing the hatch.
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Cassidy knelt in the common room. She waved her pad, All security is back to default, Mistress! I can't get close to anything!
"Computer, authenticate me, then disable barrier on engineering for slave Cassidy Yates." The computer chirped, as Mattie sat in the command chair, touching the controls. "Computer, run full diagnostic on all recent repairs, priority engines and life support." She moved to the helm as Cassidy took the engineering station. "I wanna get out of here!"
She scribbled on her pad: Life support looks okay, give the engine diagnostics another thirty seconds, Mistress.
Mattie returned to the command chair, then back to the helm, plotting her course. Cassidy gave her a thumbs up, she called, "Hang on, I'm lifting!"
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(Orbital control to Cassidy Yates).
"Yates, go ahead Orbit."
(Please state your intentions.)
"Sorry, Orbit. I just had some work done on the FTL engines; I wanted to run a final diagnostic. It's about half-done, another thirty or so minutes, then we're off. Can we get an exit vector now, or would you rather we wait?"
(Destination, Yates?)
"Alpha Centauri, Orbit."
(Lonely place, Yates. Outbound queue to the marker, and good sailing.)
"Thank you, Orbit. Yates out."
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Mattie threw Cassidy some keys. "Unlock what you want; you've got first call on the shower. I'll be on the flight deck."
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Cassidy padded onto the flight deck. Mattie swung around in the command chair, "We're out of atmosphere, so there's no Mistress and slave now," she reminded her partner. "We're about four hours from Earth; I'm taking it slow and easy with these engines. Now, what's the deal with the gag and stuff?"
Cassidy grinned, working her jaw muscles. "I know I'm a bit screwed up" and Mattie snorted. "Well, a psychiatrist isn't available to slaves, and I don't dare ask anyone at Hogwarts. Besides, we don't have the time. My theory is that it's part habit, part conditioning, part some weird comfort zone. It feels better to leave things locked on nice and tight, and there's a reassurance that something dangerous won't happen, I'm safe if I'm all locked up tight." She shrugged, "Besides, my mind thinks they're comfortable. The slave conditioning, 'I need to be bound'; it's like... I feel something wrong, like getting dressed without stockings. It's weird, I know."
Mattie shrugged, "As long as it doesn't endanger us or the mission. You know they tested the auto-doc on you?"
"They closed up my mask and locked me in something for what seemed like five minutes. My time sense is weird in that thing, and I couldn't move a muscle. They took me out and said 'successful test', and put me back to work."
"They said they recorded a complete image of you to the subatomic level."
Cassidy shrugged. "Since I'm only a slave, that made sense, and I feel fine. What's done is done, I'm not worried. You can't kick up too much fuss over their using a handy slave for that."
"I'm not happy with it, but I bitched a little because I wasn't asked about using you." Mattie said. "While you were playing spy, I got a buoy that we can deploy in Earth orbit. So while I'm dragging through classes, if you could see what you could find, maybe even some new replicator patterns?"
"Better food? Certainly, Mistress,"
Mattie glared, "Enough with the 'Mistress'. Find out anything while you were spying?"
"Sorry, it's a habit. By his definitions, he's an honest contractor. I got a good workout from him."
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