“Designation?” a harsh female voice asked.

My skin felt clammy, and my head hurt.  I felt like I’d been hit by a bus.  I also wondered if I could have possibly just been abducted by aliens.  I giggled, that wasn’t possible, was it?

My second thought, was that I was going to die.  I had no medication on me, and wondered how long I’d been out, it’d been three days since I’d taken the last shot in Portland, I only had four days to live if I couldn’t get out of this.  My mind spun, my mouth was dry and nasty, and I felt dizzy.

“What?” I brilliantly asked.  Cut me some slack, I just woke up with the mother of all hangovers from whatever weapon that was, and I was quite possibly on an alien ship.

“What is your designation?” the female voice repeated.

“Lori, who the hell are you?  And why do I feel like I’ve been wrung out.  And… where are you?”

Now that I could think, sort of, it sounded like the voice was close and omnidirectional.

My full name was Lorelai Adams.  I would swear the scientist that named me must have been addicted to Gilmore Girls.

The female voice said, “I am your artificial assistant, and here to get you acclimated to your new life.  I will also perform translations for you in real time.  Where I am, is inside your head in a bio-electric interface device.  Welcome Lori, you are now a slave of the Stolavii.”

I snickered, at least I knew who my enemy was, I’d start killing them as soon as we met.  I took a look around, I was in a room with metal walls, and one door that looked quite secure.  I was on a cot of sorts, and there was nothing else in the room.  I was also dressed in a snug uniform of some type, it didn’t leave much to the imagination, but it was extremely comfortable.

“Water?”

Part of the wall extended out into the room, and water filled a small silver colored sink.  I got up and put my hand against the wall as a wave of dizziness hit me.  Then I walked over and sniffed the sink, no scent.  I scooped the water with my hands, and licked it.  It was cold, and water, so I drank.

“Can you harm me?”

She replied, “No.”

I wasn’t sure if I could believe that or not, but I’d give her the benefit of the doubt, for now anyway.  It wasn’t like I had a choice, she was inserted in my head.

“What do I call you, and can you help me escape?”

She said, “My designation is not set, you may call me what you wish.  No, my function doesn’t allow for helping you escape.  My function is to monitor your health and keep your body in peak condition.  I am also your security access identification, only those consoles and systems the Stolavii decide you can access will respond to your touch, and will otherwise be locked out.  I will also monitor your usage, and lock you out if I detect an action that would imperil your life or the lives of others.

“I am also to keep track of your expenses and productivity, and report on that and inform you as well, so you can correct yourself.  If your expenses exceed your productivity, you will be terminated by the Stolavii.  If your production is high enough, there is a possibility of emancipation in a few hundred years.”

I shook my head, this all felt so surreal.

“Your designation is Ann.  How long am I stuck in this room?”

She replied, “Until I believe you are stable, that you will not harm yourself or others, and that you have been sufficiently briefed on your new reality.”

“Okay, first off, humans only live eighty to a hundred years, not a few hundred.  Second, I’m going to die in four days.”

She replied, “Incorrect.  Human slaves with health nanites to monitor and correct genetic degradation which is the primary cause for aging, can extend the human life well past a thousand years, and possibly up to two thousand.  We won’t be sure of the exact extension for a long time.  As for your impending death in four days, that is no longer an issue.  The drug has been completely purged from your system, which is why in your words, you feel wrung out.”

That was impossible, or was it?  I narrowed my eyes, it didn’t take me long to figure out the truth.  The drugs didn’t help me at all, there was no chemical imbalance in my body.  It’d been a lie they’d filled my mind with all my life.  The bastards had addicted my body to some substance that would kill me from withdrawal, if I stopped taking it once a week.  Just a control so I wouldn’t step out of line.  If I ever got back to Earth, there was a whole lot of shitty people that just made it on my kill list.

It also told me the medical nanites kicked ass, and knew what they were doing.  Which meant I was far from the first human to be taken.

“So how does this work, and what happens if I’m emancipated?  Also, how many humans have been emancipated in the last hundred years.”

She replied, “All food, health nanites, myself, air, space, and water, cost a certain amount of credits.  There is also the possibility of buying luxuries to improve the quality of your life.  Each service you perform in your duties, are worth a certain amount of credits.  The harder you work, the more credits you earn.  You don’t have to worry about being sick, it just won’t happen again, ever.  No humans at this time have achieved emancipation, but that is no reason to believe the offer is a lie.  The Stolavii have only been farming your world for two hundred years.  There are several humans who are more than half way toward the two hundred thousand credits you need to buy your freedom.”

I growled, “Why offer it at all, and what happens when we’re free?”

She replied, “The why is simple.  Incentive.  Slaves without hope won’t work and are more inclined to rebel.  However, given that the Stolavii have increased your life expectancy, somewhere between ten and twenty times, and are only asking for hard work for about fifteen percent of that time, most humans are very accepting of this.  There will be no torture for cruelties sake, they are disciplinarian for disruptive or non-working people, but leave the hard workers alone.

“Once freedom has been achieved, there are many opportunities in the galaxy.  A slave will be earning about ten percent wages, and pays for things that are free for someone not a slave.  So, the skies the limit once you’re free, and all Stolavii will respect a freed slave as emancipated.  It’s a big galaxy, and the Stolavii are only one race.”

I frowned, “Do all the races use slaves?”

The last thing I needed to do was work for three hundred years, and be taken as a slave again by some other race.  Not that I was at all interested in that plan, not yet anyway.  I still hoped for escape.  I had a list of people back home to kill, and in three hundred years they’d have all escaped my wrath in old age and death.

Ann replied, “No.  Slavery is illegal in the Isythian empire, which compromises four of the ten known races.  Two other independent races don’t like slavery, but they’re also somewhat xenophobic, sometimes violently and should be avoided if possible.  The last two races have their own empires, and are far away from our part of the galaxy.”

I frowned, “That was only eight.  Nine with the Stolavii.”

Ann replied, “Humans.”

I closed my eyes, I was an idiot not to include humanity as one of the ten known races.  In my defense, I still had a splitting headache, was angry, and wondering just how fucked I was.  So, all those humans that disappeared, and are never seen again.  Slaves of an alien race.  Who’d have guessed, outside of the conspiracy nut jobs I mean.

“So, the empire doesn’t like the Stolavii?”

Ann said, “That is correct, they often have skirmishes in space, but there hasn’t been a war between them in a long time.  The Stolavii are like the mercenaries of your world, and are even hired by the other races even as they disparage them.”

“And they’re occasionally pirates I’d bet.”

It made sense, if they kidnapped and enslaved humans, and were mercenaries for hire, they were pretty scummy.

Ann said, “I do not have that data, but it’s entirely likely.”

“What kind of luxuries?”

Ann replied, “Downloadable knowledge, entertainment and communication devices.  There is something much like the internet on your world, but for this part of the galaxy.  Pleasure devices, and other such things.  You can’t afford any of that right now, you have to work to pay off your nanites, and the air, food, water, and space you consume on this vessel.  Once you have a surplus of credits, you can afford luxuries.  I would suggest being frugal, or you could extend your slavery a great deal.”

Duh.  I didn’t say that though.

“Downloadable knowledge?”

Ann replied, “It’s very expensive, but if you were curious about FTL travel and other scientific knowledge you could have the science of it directly downloaded to your brain.”

Right, like college, but in minutes instead of years.  Things just kept getting crazier.

I couldn’t help but ask, “How does FTL work?”

Ann replied, “Two ways.  Wormholes that lead from one point to another almost instantaneously, up to fifty light years away.  Some of the larger more powerful ships can double that range.  The second involves subspace, it’s quite a bit slower, taking a day rather than seconds to go fifty light years, but it’s also a lot cheaper.  Generating a wormhole consumes many thousands of times the energy that opening an aperture to subspace costs.  While vacuum energy is freely available, the systems that extract it, convert it, and use it have a rated life by energy consumption.”

“Sub-light?”

Ann replied, “Impulse or gravity drive by creating a gradient.  The limit to that technology is two hundred gravities for the ship we are aboard, due to the inertial dampening systems.  It will take us another three hours to be at the minimum distance of five A.U. from your sun, before we can use the subspace drive and leave the Sol system.”

“So… four A.U. from Earth, which means I’ve been out for six hours?”

There was a pause, if I didn’t know better I’d say the artificial assistant in my head was startled.

“Correct, you figured that out in your head?”

I shrugged, “Yes, why?”

“Some jobs as slaves pay more than others, we need to determine what job you will fill.  While sensitive areas like the bridge and engineering are off limits to slaves, there are some technical posts you could fill.”

I frowned, “Wouldn’t I need to buy a download for that?  Figuring out acceleration is easy, figuring out the electronics on a space ship with technology beyond any knowledge on earth is another matter.”

Was I seriously considering this?  The plan I wanted was the one where I went on a killing spree, and hijacked the ship.  Then went home and killed the fucking scientists who’d made me a weapon and addicted me to a deadly drug. 

I was sure it wouldn’t be that easy though, maybe I should bide my time, and learn first.  Accept a job, and go with the flow.  That was the professional thing to do.  An assassin didn’t just get the target name and take the shot, not a professional one at least.  I’d studied my marks and their routines very carefully before acting in the past.  To do less than that here, would probably end with me being spaced.

She replied, “No, you’d have to get a download if you wanted to understand the physics and science behind the technology, to build one yourself.  But someone of high intelligence, with my aid, could easily operate or repair advanced technology.  Just like back home, you surfed the internet, and watched TV, but that doesn’t mean you could build a television, or a network device.”

That was true enough.  It was also a place to start.

“What about other humans, when I’m let out of here, will we be free to mix?”

She replied, “Yes.  Though violence would be stiffly fined by anyone that started it.”

That, is it sad that it sounded good to me?  I’d held myself apart for my whole life, I wasn’t even sure if I was capable of being close to someone.

“Alright, so, what are my options for jobs?  List the top five paying jobs.”

Ann replied, “In order of highest paying, main ship subsystems repair, which is changing out old modules for new ones, and doing troubleshooting when required.  I can help you with that, I don’t think it would take you long to catch on.  There are a lot of systems outside of the sensitive areas that the slaves take care of, and the diagnostic computers are easy enough to learn.  The second job would be shuttle and fighter maintenance on the flight deck, which is similar in nature but for the small ships.”

“Question,” I interrupted.

“Go ahead,” Ann replied.

“If you can help me with it, why do they need slaves at all.  Can’t they just load your software on a repair droid or something?”

Ann said, “Artificial intelligence is highly regulated by the Stolavii.  The Isythian empire does use artificial assistants both in their ships’ main systems, and in repair and battle droids.  As a result, their crews are much smaller even on their large battleships.  The Stolavii prefer to use slaves.  Believe it or not, it’s cheaper to use slaves, since they’re only paying you ten percent of what the job would actually be worth otherwise.  Robotics and the power requirements cost more than air and food on balance, plus they are untrusting of an artificial intelligence making decisions without input from an organic.”

“Right.”

I guessed it would be cheaper, if they were only paying ten percent, plus they didn’t have to give sick days with the nanites keeping us healthy, or pay people for not working since we were slaves.  Plus, it was obviously very expensive technology to tap vacuum energy, and limited in life before they needed a replacement power core, or whatever the hell they called it.

“Continue please.”

Ann said, “The third highest paying job for slaves is not technical in nature, they are the pleasure providers.”

“Woah!  What do they look like?”

It was already a no, but I was curious.

Ann replied, “The Stolavii are similar in appearance to Earth apes, except they have shorter hair which is a light red, and dark red skin.”

“Definitely a no.  Four and five?”

Ann replied, “Resources and steward, respectively.  Resources would require changing out food ingredients and keeping the food synthesizers stocked.  A steward operates the synthesizers and brings the food to the crew, and may be sent on other errands.”

I replied quickly, perhaps too quickly.

“I’m thinking the shuttle and fighter maintenance.”

There was a pause, “There is a ninety-three percent probability that you picked that with hopes to commandeer a spacecraft and escape.”

I frowned, definitely too quickly.  I thought fast.

“It just sounds interesting, and less boring than swapping parts in the walls.  Is the pay difference large?”

She replied, “The difference is negligible.  Assuming you were frugal with your credits, it would take approximately six months longer to save up your two hundred thousand credits.”

That was only… point one two percent of a difference.

“But I could make that up by working longer hours?”

She said, “A slave’s shift is fourteen Earth hours long.  That leaves two hours for relaxation, and eight for rest.”

Ouch, that was a hell of a pace for three hundred years.

She added, “Would it make a difference if I told you the security access you have would never successfully let you access a shuttle or fighter for launch?  While that could be worked around, it would take time and effort, and I would be forced to report you.  You would be fined, given a lesser job adding years to your slavery, and would be bored out of your mind with drudgery.  In addition, the landing bay would be a far more dangerous place to be during battle, than in the interior of the ship helping with damage control.  Also, just in case you did succeed, you’d be marooned in the system and either be recaptured, shot out of space, or run out of resources and die.  Fighters and shuttles have no FTL systems, they’re too small for the required power systems for those devices to be installed.”

“Okay, got it.  Main ship subsystems it is, if I get a choice.”

Ann said, “Very well, good decision.  If I let you out of your room, will you behave?  Several of your species is in the common area already.”

“Wait, this is my room?”

Ann said, “Yes, in addition to the small sink, there is also a waste receptacle and a sonic shower.  Water is for drinking only.  Other luxuries may be added later.”

Right, if I was willing to pay for them, and extend my time as a slave.

“Yes, I’ll behave.  I’m not a violent person.”

It was true enough, I’d never been in a fight or started one in my life.  Outside of my training that is, and my assignments to kill.  That so didn’t count.

The door slid open, I took a deep breath and walked out…