Chapter One

Twenty Years Later

"She's dead."

Shmi stood frozen. Her many questions stuck on her throat.

How could she be dead? Shmi thought. I just spoke with her last night.

Yet, even she had to admit that Pi-Lippa had not been looking well the night before. She was elderly and weakening and had said she did not expect to live much longer. But Shmi thought it would be weeks, months, before it actually happened. Now, here was her cousin telling her otherwise.

Tears sprang up in Shmi's eyes. Pi-Lippa, dear Pi-Lippa, who had taught her so much. Of all her masters Shmi had never felt so close to one. Despite being her slave she developed a bond with the old woman.

Pi-Lippa had owned many slaves throughout her life, and admitted to not thinking much about the importance of freedom and the trials of captivity. She had never been taught to. However, confined to bed as she had been by her health examiner she had contemplated the mysteries of life, and more specifically the life she had led. Her ruminations had prompted her to summon Shmi, on more than one account, in order to discuss and question Shmi about her own perceptions of her world.

Shmi, to her credit, had been patient. Knowing the elder woman was lonely, more than she realized, Shmi spent hours at her bedside listening to her philosophical meditations.

"I'm not sure," and "Far be it from me to understand that," were some of the base responses Shmi would offer whenever asked for her opinion on matters. As much as she liked Pi-Lippa, Shmi still knew her place. But then the night before, something changed.

"No, please," Pi-Lippa had said. An earnest, almost desperate look, crossing her face. "I really want to know how you feel."

Shmi thought about what she had been asked. If it were in her power, would she free herself? If any of her previous masters had ever thought to ask her that she would not have hesitated to answer no.

Of course not, she'd say. I am grateful for my station, and the generosity of my master.

To say otherwise would have brought their wrath upon her. But no master had ever asked her this question before. No master had ever asked for her thoughts, her opinions, or her feelings. Nothing was ever asked of her. Her service, unwavering loyalty, and gratitude were demanded. And she gave it, with a bowed head and quiet lips.

Pi-Lippa was not like the others though. She was kind and giving. Having been a renowned computer engineer and great philosopher on many galactic complexities she often liked to spend hours ranting to whoever would listen about whatever new idea came to her. In her old age, her many relatives found her grating, but when Pi-Lippa had bought Shmi four years prior to aid her she had found not only a loyal servant, but also a willing pupil to teach all she knew about computers who also happened to be an excellent listener.

"Well," Shmi had answered hesitantly. "I am grateful for my station and my master-"

"I didn't ask if you were grateful," the impatient Pi-Lippa interrupted. "I asked, would you free yourself? If it were up to you?"

Slowly, Shmi nodded, frightened in spite of herself. Then, in a small voice she whispered, "Yes."

Pi-Lippa observed her long and hard then she cleared her throat and announced, "Then it's final. First thing tomorrow morning, I'm setting you free. We'll call for the surgeon to remove that blasted transmitter."

That had been last night. This morning Shmi had rushed from her humble quarters to Pi-Lippa's compound. It was early, but she could not wait any longer. She had spent a restless night pacing to and fro, too excited to sleep. She could almost taste her freedom. The freedom to do anything, ask for anything. The freedom to be whoever she wanted to be. Who did she want to be?

She even knew the first thing she would ask for. She was going to ask Pi-Lippa if she could stay on as her assistant. There was still so much more she could learn from the woman, and she knew she needed Shmi. It was likely she wouldn't live to see another year so it only made sense to spend her first few months of freedom with someone she had grown to care for.

Now, Shmi stood before the cold, hard figure of Pi-Lippa's cousin telling her that the tender woman had died.

"Dead?" Shmi finally forced the word out.

"That's what I said," snapped Wi-Lirrd.

Shmi had met Pi-Lippa's cousin only once before. On that occasion she had determined by his brash and shrewd behavior he was not one you wanted to upset. But Shmi, who so rarely ever was, felt blindsided.

"Did she-she said s-she was going to free me," Shmi whispered.

"What?" Wi-Lirrd, frowned.

"S-she said she would call for the surgeon," Shmi choked out. "To remove my transmitter."

Wi-Lirrd stared blankly at her then barked out a laugh. "What kind of fool do you think I am, slave? Think I was born yesterday?"

Shmi glanced down at the floor as she shook her head.

"So despicable. Thinking you can benefit from the death of my beloved cousin," Wi-Lirrd spat at her feet. "Go back to work before I take my grief out on you."

Hurriedly, Shmi left his presence. Grief for the old woman filled her to the brim, far more so than she knew Wi-Lirrd would ever feel. Pi-Lippa had once told her that the only thing her relatives, a smattering of cousins and nieces and nephews, truly loved her for was her money. It seemed she was right. Now, that she was dead many of her relatives came to the compound, some for the first time, and Shmi knew that they were haggling over who got what.

Shmi spent her day going about her work as usual, keeping her head down, and mouth closed, but her ears open for any hint of what was to become of her. When her usual quitting time came around, she gathered up her supplies and began making her way back to her quarters.

"Slave!" Wi-Lirrd barked from behind her.

Shmi quickly turned to face him with her eyes downcast to display her servility.

"Where do you think you're going?" he questioned her.

"I-I was just-" Shmi began.

"When I ask you a question, I expect you to speak up!" he yelled.

"I was just going back to my quarters, sir," Shmi answered promptly.

"Quarters?" Wi-Lirrd swelled dangerously. "So now you think you can turn in early do you?"

Shmi's heart sped up and her cheeks flushed, but years of serving cruel masters allowed her to maintain a steady gaze at the floor between Wi-Lirrd's feet.

"No, sir," she answered. "If there's more work to be done, I will certainly see to it that it gets done."

She waited for his response feeling his cool gaze upon her stance. Finally, he said, "With the death of my, beloved, cousin, you now belong to me. And while Pi-Lippa might have given you a long leash you will find that mine is not so flexible. I expect you to be at your duties before the sun shows its face and not to finish until it hides once again, am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now, get out of my face."

Shmi gave a small bow and hastened to find more work to do. She had already done her kitchen duties and cleaned the foyer as well as all the guest bedrooms for Pi-Lippa's relatives. She had taken care of the various animals Pi-Lippa kept on her property and saw to the gardens. Shmi's daily diligence often meant that nothing was too out of place that she needed to spend hours cleaning or have enough work to keep her working till sunset.

After some thought, she carried her supplies to the workshop at the back of Pi-Lippa's compound. It was unlikely she would be bothered here. The relatives weren't interested in Pi-Lippa's various projects and it was a place Shmi had spent many hours helping and learning from her master. When she entered, the lights turned on automatically.

Shmi stood in the entryway and stared around at the various computer chips and panels, the server racks and wirings. A few dismantled droids lay scattered over workbenches and a half-completed algorithm was scribbled over a datapad.

Taking a seat at one of the tables, tears once again filled Shmi's eyes. She truly would miss Pi-Lippa and her bark-like laughter, her quirky humor and no nonsense attitude. But the additional sting of having been so close to freedom, of having it within her grasp was almost too much to bear.

No. No freedom had never been in her grasp. It was never hers to hold onto, to offer. Only Pi-Lippa had that power, and willing though she had been, she could not live long enough to see to it. Shmi held no grudges against her. She knew Pi-Lippa had never meant to hurt her. She knew the old woman would have kept her word and would have freed her.

No if she was angry, it was only with herself. She never should have gotten carried away, thinking about freedom and what she'd do with it once she had it. She had broken her one rule to herself. Don't want what isn't yours.

And the truth of the matter was that Shmi had nothing to call her own except for a wish. A deep, passionate, heart-filled wish that she had one thing to call her own.