It was probably the longest - what am I saying, of course it was the longest - night I have ever spent in my life! My captor was obviously in no hurry to visit his latest acquisition, and it was almost midday - not that you could tell what time of day it was in this awful dungeon - before I heard the elevator door open. "Good morning, little one," he said, brightly, as he removed the hood. "I trust you spent a comfortable night?"

"I've had better," I said, grumpily. "I need to pee."

He didn't respond as he began the lengthy process of releasing me from the chair and helped me to my feet. My back was so stiff from sitting all night, so he had to walk slowly to the elevator with me.

"What's happening today, Sir?" I asked.

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"You said, I'd have a busy day tomorrow, Sir. It's 'tomorrow', so I was wondering...."

"Oh, that," he said. "Why, you're going on a long journey."

My mind was racing! "Journey?" I repeated. "Journey where?"

"Training camp," he said, in a tone that suggested I should have known.

"Training camp?"

I guess my repeating everything he said finally got to him. He took hold of my arm and twisted it... Hard! "Be quiet!" he growled.

"But...."

"You'll need training before you go to your new home. A lot of training, most likely." His eyes narrowed to slits. "Plenty of time for a split lip to heal."

My heart sank. There could be no doubt, now. This guy was up to his beautiful teeth in the slave trade. More importantly, his was the responsibility for preparing the new 'recruits' for their prospective owners. For 'preparing', read 'conditioning'. For 'training', read 'learning how to please your Master or Mistress' - pandering to their little foibles and kinks. And you could have bet your rear end that the learning process would involve the imposition of some seriously strict discipline, with the severest punishment imaginable meted out for the slightest transgression. Apart from the fees he would receive from the owners, which would likely be considerable, having charge of the training and punishment of novice slaves would be a real bonus for Master Phoenix. I thought about that. Nah! It was the money that was the bonus. He liked hurting people! That part he did for free!

"Nothing more to say?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"No, Sir."

You know, I swear Phoenix looked disappointed that my feisty nature had apparently deserted me, leastwise for the moment. It hadn't of course, but I had to have time to think. That meant I dare not antagonize him further. A sore bottom is okay when you're playing, but it kind of distracts a girl when she's plotting her escape from a psychopath like Phoenix. They may be crazy, but they're usually very smart. Nature has a way a balancing things out like that.

"In that case," he said, "we'll get you fed and watered, first, then crate you up for shipment."

'Crate?' I'm thinking, 'I'm to be fed and watered like some farm animal, and then I have to climb in a crate? Oh, puh...leese!'

Why a crate, you might ask? Well, it's simple. The two markets might well make a fortune catering to the millions of bargain hunters who descended on them from all parts of the galaxy, but that didn't mean the city fathers would overlook the possibility of raising some additional revenue. By levying a small tax, four percent or so, on all purchases, they easily financed all the civic improvements they desired. To collect the taxes, there were customs houses at every entrance to each of the two cities. I would therefore have to travel inside a crate, suitably restrained and silenced, of course, with the appropriate paperwork, naturally, so I wouldn't draw the attention of the customs inspectors to my plight. I think it was at that point that I fully realized just how much trouble I was really in.


Phoenix might have taken all kinds of trouble looking after the interests of his clients, but where the merchandise was concerned... Well, all I got was a small bowl of some kind of porridgey gunk and a bottle of mineral water. I was then instructed to pee. Phoenix didn't let me out of his sight the whole time, which was kind of unnerving. Next came the part I wasn't looking forward to: the crate. My mind had conjured up all manner of ways I could have been prevented from crying out and moving about. When I saw what Phoenix had prepared for me, I have to admit I was a little disappointed. The crate was made of some kind of thick gauge plastic. The lid could be held shut with eight lockable latches, while inside was three inches of soundproofing. He told me to get inside - which was pretty difficult with my corset and heels - and then sit down. There was far more room inside than I needed. I could even lie down, albeit in the fetal position, if I wanted to, and someone had taken the trouble to put some bedding inside. Phoenix handed me a face mask. A tube was attached to it as well as an air bottle. "Put this on," he said. I looked at the straps, adjusted them, slid them over my head, wiggled the mask to settle it snugly over my nose and mouth, and took an experimental breath. I've been in stranger headgear than this - in the public interest, of course - but I was pleasantly surprised to find it was fairly comfortable. The air was pretty good too. "Enjoy the ride," he said, as he slid the lid in place and locked it. The next sensation I felt was that I was floating. I was obviously being carried out to a transporter of some kind. There was a jarring thud as the crate was placed inside the vehicle. Then silence.

A short while later, we started to move, but without any of the usual vibrations and bumping. I assumed it was because they were using an air cushion sled attached to the tractor unit, instead of the more normal wheeled variety. A lot of merchants use these cushion sleds, now, especially those involved in the antique porcelain trade. The roads outside the cities aren't too smooth, and delivering an eighty-seven piece tea set, when the customer paid for a ten piece one is not the way to stay in business for long. With more and more merchants opting to use these sleds, the administration had kind of given up bothering to maintain the road system altogether, preferring instead to invest the money in art museums. swanky government buildings, an imposing Governor's mansion - that kind of stuff. I guess that means that air cushion sled manufacturer shares will be the ones to invest in over the coming years.


I have no idea how long we traveled, or in which direction we headed. What I do know is I spent the entire time wondering if the air tank I was breathing from was big enough, and if the next breath I took would be my last. 'No,' I repeatedly told myself, during each fresh intake of air, 'he needs me alive, or I'm worth nothing.' Mind you, there are those to whom a recently deceased investigative reporter would be a very enticing prospect, indeed; and I don't mean as part of a healthy, varied, diet.

Anyway, like everything else in life, the journey finally came to an end. I felt the same floating sensation, followed by a bump as the crate was put down. As the lid was unlocked and removed, my first thought was, 'Where in hell am I?', followed by the totally unnerving realization that I wasn't even on the same planet! Don't ask me how, but I was certain I was on board some kind of ship. For a person attempting to escape from the clutches of someone like Phoenix, being on a spaceship can seriously limit one's options. I mean, where could I go? To escape didn't just mean getting away from 'him', it meant getting away from the ship. Even if I managed to steal a lifeboat, navigating interstellar space isn't like cruising the Santa Monica Freeway. You don't get signboards telling you the Ventura off-ramp is coming up in one and a quarter miles, so you'd better start moving to the right-hand lane. You need some serious navigational hardware and one other, significant piece of equipment: you need a propulsion unit capable of getting you home.

For those that don't know, lifeboats are designed to survive a catastrophic failure of the cruise/cargo ship they were jettisoned from, and to keep their occupants alive - but in the vicinity of the now defunct cruise/cargo ship - until help arrives. Why do they stay close to where they were? Well, because the cruise ship would be broadcasting its position continually, in case of just such a contingency, so leaving the area would be stupid, space being slightly bigger than Kansas, and all. Oh, and they also have very powerful beacons, which are automatically activated when they're launched, so they can be easily located. They don't, therefore, make a very good choice as a means of escape when, (a), you have a long way to go to get home, and (b), you don't want anyone to find you while you're trying to get there.


I was in my small cell, eating some more porridgey stuff and sipping my mineral water, when Phoenix entered and leaned against the wall. He watched as I dragged my spoon around the plate to collect the last little bit, and sucked it noisily.

"Some information for you," he said. "First of all, this will be your room for the duration of your stay. Second, the length of your stay here will depend entirely on your ability to absorb and act on the instructions you will receive. Finally, any breach of regulations, or failure to accept instruction, will result in the worst imaginable discomfort for you and a real thrill for me." He glared at me, and went on, "Do you understand."

"Yes?" I replied, staring at the floor in front of his feet.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled.

Without another word, he turned and left.

I sat in silence, staring at my feet for simply ages. It's strange how stress affects your mind. I was in so much trouble, yet I could still notice the leather on the heel of my right boot was scuffed. I licked my thumb and rubbed it. The normality of that action distracted me, numbing my mind, momentarily, against the terrifying reality that was to become the rest of my life. I undressed myself, like I was sleepwalking. As I lay down on the hard cot and covered myself with a threadbare and far from clean blanket, for the first time in long while, I began to cry.....