"This will hurt," said the gruff man behind her. Hanni felt the cold press of metal against the back of her neck, then a sharp, scalding pain as the tracker chip was embedded beneath her skin. She tried her best not to cry out, but it burned like fire and she let a few tears drop. The man squirted some kind of numbing liquid against where the chip was, then wiped it dry and turned towards her master.

"Good to go," he said grouchily, wiping his hands against the yellowed smock of his uniform. It strained against his bulging belly and she was not surprised to see there were dried blood stains on it. Tivan handed over a small amount of units, which Hanni took as her cue to get up and follow him once more back to the museum. They did not talk on the way, but once they entered his collection he pointed to a pile of rubble still left on the main floor and ordered her to quickly dispose of what she could. She fell to it immediately without a word and Tivan left her in silence for almost an hour. She had been his slave for nearly a week; during that time they hardly spoke and the main floor of the collection had been cleared almost completely, save for a few mangled cages Hanni could not lift or were too large for the disposal chute. Apparently there was a crew coming at some point during the day to clear it – Hanni hoped it would be soon, as her master had let her know he was expecting clients today, the first he had had since his home had been nearly destroyed. She knew impressions meant a lot, and if his collection looked like a disaster, she was very likely to be blamed. She heard his clicking footsteps behind her on the metal and turned to face him.

"Make tea for six," he ordered. "My visitors will be here soon."
"Yes, master," she said, running immediately to the kitchen.

Hanni had done her job as thoroughly as possible – the kitchen was no longer dusty with disuse, though Tivan rarely ever ate there, if at all. She was aware he was a very ancient being, his Knowhere base alone being hundreds of years old, so she assumed he likely just didn't need to eat much. He never seemed to lose much weight, anyway; his stomach had a somewhat slight paunch to it that nonetheless flattered his broad shoulders and regal frame. She put water on to boil and pulled six nice cups out of the cupboard, then set up a small platter of cheese and fruit and brought it out to the main hall. Setting it on a deeply scarred table, she noticed the picture frame her master had picked up from the floor last week was there. Hanni squinted to try to see the photograph through the dusty, shattered glass. It looked like several people, but she could not make out their faces. Shrugging, she returned to the kitchen.

After a few minutes a group of five elegant-looking travelers entered the building, escorted by guards and followed closely by a sad Krylorian girl Hanni assumed must have been a slave. She looked thin. The guards left as Hanni stepped from the kitchen to greet them, bowing deeply and introducing her master, who had appeared at the head of the short staircase in the back of the hall. He stepped forward and greeted the four men and one woman with a smile and flattery, offering tea as they sat down to discuss business. He suddenly turned to Hanni and snapped his fingers, pointing to the kitchen.

"Leave us," he ordered.

She nodded, bowing slightly and turning away, but the guests ordered their Krylorian slave to follow her. They both complied and, once in the kitchen, started small talk.

"I guess they think we don't need to know their business," the other slave said. "My name's Danissa, by the way."
"Hanni," she said softly.

"Master orders you to keep silent?" she said with a knowing look, looking for a glass to get herself water.

"Cupboard to the left," Hanni said, pointing her to where the glasses were kept. "And no, not really – neither of us are really talkers."

Danissa shrugged and got herself a drink, gulping it down sloppily as the water dribbled down her chin and chest.

"My masters don't like me to talk much either," she said, wiping her mouth.

"You have more than one master?" It wasn't unheard of, but generally slaves weren't shared unless he or she were serving an entire family household – it caused too much confusion. The group currently meeting with Tivan did not seem like family.

"Yes, but..." she suddenly fell off, cupping her water tightly and looking down into the glass with a dazed expression, muttering "I'm mostly not used for household duty." She blushed and knitted her brow.

Hanni felt a little sick to her stomach but said nothing. Her opinion didn't matter anyway – slaves were their master's business, not hers. Danissa looked back up, brightening in spite of the grim moment.

"How long have you been here?"
"About a week."
"Does he treat you well?"
"Well enough."
"Are you beaten?"

Hanni was beginning to become annoyed with the questions very quickly. Why did she want to know? She guessed the girl was just starving for companionship that didn't require her subservience. She sighed a little.

"He does not beat me, no."

"Oh, that's good. I guess he wouldn't want to damage something so expensive, anyway. He doesn't seem the type."

Hanni shrugged quietly, withdrawing a little. She didn't feel comfortable discussing her master.

"So what does he do all day?"

She shrugged again.

"Has he loved you?"

Hanni felt color rising to her cheeks and real anger now.

"I don't want to talk about this," she said, crossing her arms over her stomach.

"Did you have a tracker installed yet?"
"Yeah, but why...?"

Hanni suddenly felt very, very uncomfortable. That was when she noticed Danissa had gotten incredibly close.

"In your neck? Or your arm?"

"I don't know," she lied, but Danissa suddenly made a quick movement and Hanni blacked out.