I awoke that morning feeling considerably refreshed: my last night in my own... Dimension? World? Universe?... had been spent sleeping rough. I wasn't quite sure where I was, but it sure as hell wasn't Earth. Overnight, I had come up with a plan.

1. Find Collier.

2. Ask to be left alone with the slaves, to 'choose'.

3. Slave Kiedran are de-clawed, so they can't tear through the tent they're kept in.

4. Arm the healthiest slave with the leather armour and rapier.

5. He/she will assist me in tearing open the tent and covering the slaves as they escape.

6. Pack up Base Camp and haul ass.

I thanked the barkeep/innkeep for such a great sleep, and left again for the market. Then an idea struck me: the only armour I was wearing was the bullet-proof vest. Anything else could be cut through by a sword or axe. So, I went back to the blacksmith, and asked to see a suit of steel armour. To his initial confusion, I then proceeded to disassemble it and fit various parts around me: the shoulders, linked at the front and back, over the trench coat, the greaves and foot plating over my trousers and combat boots, the arm plates under the trench coat's arms, and the chest and back plates over the black muscle shirt I was wearing under the coat and vest. I sold him the vest and my hat, minus the recorder, claiming that the vest could stop any projectile that wasn't a cannonball. He bought it.

Finally, I made my way towards the slavemaster's 'shop'. I was greeted at the front by a man in armour that didn't match the guards, and two swords. Mercenary, then.

"Collier's inside," he growled, trying to intimidate me most likely.

"Thanks." was my simple reply, as I stepped through the door. I was greeted by a barrel of a man, more flabby than muscular, probably why he needed a merc.

"Ah, you must be new in town," he chuckled, in an cockney londoner's accent, "ah'm Quintus Amicus, but you can caw' me Colliah. Most do."

"Bishop." I decided to drop the Moses alias.

"Like the chess piece? Strange name, even if it ain't yer birth name." He replied, emphasising his point by tilting his head quizzically to one side. Although I know I should have been focused, I breathed an internal sigh of relief when I realised this world had chess.

"I'm here to browse, but I'm 80% sure I'll buy. Where are they?" I asked.

"Round back," he replied, jerking a thumb at one door. "Take yer time, they ain't goin' anywhere."

I nodded, noted the sheer irony of his previous statement, and headed for the door. Behind it was the tent I'd seen from outside yesterday. There were five slaves, three male, two female. There was a tiger, who was rather short but looked like he could handle himself, a white-furred she-wolf who was almost two heads taller than I was, a pair of what appeared to be lynxes, both almost identical so I assumed brothers, and a russet-orange furred vixen, about my height and build.

"Can everyone understand me?" I asked. To my relief, all five nodded.

"Great. Who here's good with a sword?" Four of them seemed a little perplexed at the question, but the vixen raised her hand.

"Excellent. Take this," I said, handing her the rapier off my back, and the armour, which I'd hidden under my chest plate and back plate,"and this. The boots might not fit, but it's better than nothing." I turned and averted my eyes as she changed into the armour.

"I'm going to help you all escape, but you need to stay calm and quiet, OK?" I asked, slipping my trench coat back on and watching as they all beamed smiles and stared at each other in giddy disbelief. I turned to the vixen, and to her I said "Help me cover their escape, and you'll be free to keep what I've given you." She nodded, drawing the rapier from it's sheath. I un-holstered my revolver, spinning the cylinder, and drew my knife with my other hand. Together, we cut through the reinforced canvas of the tent. I sheathed my knife and poked my head out, making sure it was clear...

And was met with the bewildered face of Collier's merc.

"Shit. Move!"

I fired a shot. The revolver let off a crack of thunder, and the man staggered back, sword arm leaking blood. The six of us charged out of the side alley, making for the edge of town. People watched us rush past them with bemused looks on there faces. Th blacksmith from earlier was among them, looking on with eyes like saucers. I could hear Collier yelling "Guards! Thief! Escapees! Catch 'em! Kill the 'uman bloke!" Two guards blocked the town gate, drawing swords. I fired again; the shot pinged off one's helmet, but he toppled over, concussed from the impact. The other guard rushed us, but the vixen simply bowled him over, catching his sword as he fell and throwing it to the she-wolf. We charged through the gate at breakneck speed, but the tiger began falling behind. The she-wolf skidded to a stop, fighting a guard pretty impressively for someone with no apparent combat skill.

"Man," she yelled, "I hold them, you hit them with hand-cannon!" I obliged, the shot connecting with her attacker's neck. He fell backwards as she turned and ran, leading the others, minus the vixen, off south into the forest.

The vixen shouted to me "We're the diversion because we can fight!".

"Follow me!" I yelled, running for the ridge where Base Camp was situated. Dear god, she was fast. She lanced off ahead of me, feet barely touching the ground. I followed suit, as an arrow soared past my head and slammed into the ground.

"Archers!" the vixen yelled, reaching the camp as another arrow barely missed her tail. I turned to face them and backpedaled into camp, snatching up my M417 as fast as humanly possible. I snapped the rifle into a firing position, sighting one of the archers. A single 7.62mm round went through his chest, and he fell backwards, unconscious or dead. One remaining archer turned and ran, but his comrade fired once more and then followed suit, and I heard a cry of pain behind me. I wheeled round, to find the vixen clutching her leg just above her ankle, an arrow jutting out.

Oh shit.

She slumped against a tree, and I dropped my rifle and ran straight for her, removing my medkit from my belt as I ran. I cut the boot off of the armour off with my knife, letting it slip, stained red, to the floor.

"Aah! Ah... it... hngh... it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would." she groaned. Shit, shit, shit. She was going into shock, so I had to act fast. Needed to keep her talking.

"Just relax, OK? Shhhh, sh, sh, sh, it'll be alright. What's your name? Huh?"

"Mia." she replied through gritted teeth, "Mia. I used to be a... hngh... a huntress for the Coastal Fox Tribe, before I was captured. Why?"

"I need to distract you, Mia." I replied, readying gauze and bandages.

"From wha- aa- aah!" she cried, as the arrow slipped from her flesh and to the floor, dripping crimson blood. I quickly applied the gauze and wrapped the bandages around the wound before the bleeding or pain got any worse, cursing myself for not packing morphine, thinking I wouldn't need it for such a simple op. Hawk had a pack, but Christ himself probably still didn't know where she was.

"There. That'll halt the bleeding, and the bandage will keep the wound clean. You still conscious?"

"Mm... mm-hm. Thank you. Gods know what I would have done if you weren't here. Thank you."

"It's nothing, but for now, we need to move. Can you fire a... stupid question. Look," I asked, handing her the M417, "Hold it like I did. If anyone comes after us, pull that trigger there."

"Why won't you be able to... hey!" she yelled, as I hoisted her into a piggyback ride, letting her point the rifle forward.

"Because I'll be running with you. No way in hell you can walk on that." I propped her back up against the tree, packed up my bedroll, slipped the rapier back into the sheath on her back, re-loaded and re-holstered my dropped revolver, and, lifting her back onto my back, carried her forward, away from the town.

It was night before I stopped, propping her up against a tree as I set up the bedroll. It was a double roll, as only Mick and I had been carrying four rolls between two men, with a partition of sorts pressed into the middle, so I cut it in half with my knife and it separated into two single bedrolls. I slipped her into one, zipping it up, and propped her head up with a moss 'pillow' of sorts as I got a fire rolling.

"I never got your name." the vi- Mia - suddenly said.

"Bishop." I replied, turning to face her, flames reflected in her eyes.

"I heared that, these ears aren't for decorative purposes. What's your real name?"

"Davidson." I told her, relenting, "James Davidson."

"James" she repeated, letting the word roll off her tongue, "I like it. Suits you."

"Thank you. Mia's nice too." I replied, turning back to the fire. "Why'd you stay with me?" I asked, sitting down next to her on top of my bedroll, "You could have left with the other kiedran."

"They needed a diversion. Besides, you saved my life from slavery, and I owe you a great debt for that. You're clearly not of this world; too... naive, too unsure of local customs. You'll need a guide. And I can teach you our language."

"Well then thank you. I'll see if I can pick the lock on that collar and bracelet combo in the morning, but for now, get some rest."

"Aright." Mia said, yawning, "Good night, James."

"Night."