Muted Cries

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Hunter's Quarry : Outer edge of the Hal Hutta system
Station time : 0813​

Six days had passed since the auction and acquisition of the slave known as [member="Cronus Uturn"]. For six days the silent slave had been shown her basic responsibilities not by her new owner but by an elite soldier who answered to the name Irons. The Captain of Zenva's personal army of death dealers was a large Zabrak that embodied everything Clan Vrotoa considered favorable in their species. Tall and well muscled, deep crimson colored skin, brilliant yellow eyes and a crown of horns about his head. While unrelenting in his role as task master to the new slave, the man could hardly be called cruel. He didn't yell or curse at the plump little slave, he issued her commands in the same tone he used with every soldier under his command. Failure to perform a task to his satisfaction simply meant doing it again. Further none compliance resulted in forced exercise, push ups, sit ups, running.

Thus far she had been kept in an area of the space station referred to as The Warren. Five floors of housing, exercise areas, weapon lockers and a few other odd rooms. All of which served as the general living area for eighty Zabrak warriors and now one slave. Thus far her days were set to a fine routine, she would pour drinks for the ten officers living in The Warren during the morning meal. After which she was allowed to eat anything the soldiers had left behind as well as a ration that Captain Irons provided her in order to offset the all meat diet of the Zabrak. She was then to clean the mess hall and dishes. The majority of her days were then spent cleaning personal chambers, floors, and so on. Each night she was made to set up her own sleeping cot in a corner of the mess hall and left with a bucket of water, a cleaning cloth, and a small ball of soap so she could wash herself.

A dismal life perhaps but one that was better than some slave's had known. She hadn't been made to dance or entertain, she hadn't been violated by any of the soldiers. In fact, as long as she stayed out of the way and did her work no one seemed to pay her any attention. No one except the young noble woman named Renesri Alyia, Miss Alyia as the soldiers called her. The young Zabrak woman, no more than eighteen, marched through The Warren like she owned the place. Everyday she had found something she could do to make life a little more difficult for poor Cronus. Spilling drinks, dropping a tray of food, knocking over a mop bucket, any little thing she could think of. The young noble would then sit back and giggle while she watched the slave labor in excess. Today would be different.

Shortly after Cronus had finished eating, the young noble simply appeared like a phantom. There had been no one in the mess hall, no chatter of soldiers or clattering plates and silverware to mask the sound of the young woman's approach. None the less she stood in front of the slave so suddenly she might as well have spontaneously materialized there. "Hello Mute." The youth said, her voice held a sinister note as she spoke. "I have a task for you Mute. You are going to serve Lady Zenva her morning meal. I have just found out that you haven't seen your new mistress since she purchased you. A travesty I intend to remedy. Come. No time to waste."

The young Zabrak turned away and marched off at a quick pace. After a minute or two they left The Warren, entering an area wholly different from the Durasteel and drab gray colors of the soldiers housing. Here the floors were tiled with black marble, the walls paneled in dark wood, and expensive artwork decorated alcoves and walls in abundance. "This is Lady Zenva private wing. Most refer to it as The Manor, but only when Lady Zenva isn't about to hear them." The youth walked on for another hundred meters or more, passing dozens of double doors along the way. Finally she stopped, her head craning about as she sought her target. Not more than ten seconds had passed before a wall slide open and a droid bearing a covered tray emerged. The young Zabrak immediately rushed to block the droid's path. "Give that to the slave. She will be waiting on Matron Vrotoa this morning, F-Three."

The droid looked back and forth between the two women for only a moment before it moved to hand Cronus the covered platter. "Listen closely Slave Unit. The Matron is served the broth first with chilled water. Afterward, you serve the sausage with black coffee. Finally, the sweetened Mon Calamari. Do not let her coffee go empty. Understood? Good." The droid didn't wait for a reply, not that a verbal one was forthcoming, and simply disappeared back into the hidden doorway.

The young noblewoman opened a door and motioned the slave forward, closing the door behind her. Alone in what appeared to be a lavish study, Zenva Vrotoa sat behind a large wooden desk rifling through papers and datapads at a fevered pace. The Blood Matron didn't so much as look up from her work as she spoke, "F-Three make a note. Miss Blonde is to be contacted as soon as possible. The Phrik I acquired from her simply isn't enough. I'll need another shipment. Two thousand kilograms should suffice."

 

[Cronus Uturn]

Work had been quite easy for the mute slave. Ever since she was taken in by her new legal owner, the young Cronus had taken a liking to the few jobs she was assigned to. Even if she had to work fast and keep her ears open, it served as a very good time to think and reflect back on starship ideas she had bubbling about in her head at every given moment. At times, she would even find herself wondering to carve them out of soap, but never did in fear that she wouldn't get to have another one for actual cleaning.

Sleep was better than it was at earlier moments in her life, washing was far more pleasant with cold water and soap compared to what she was used to, and the occasional trickery of those mischievous people were in some way, amusing. At the sudden arrival of one she recognized clearly, she pulled her cheeks in to help clean up the excess bits of food her non-existing tongue could not reach, and stared in an organized listening fashion. She didn't make any moves until she was to follow, where there her soft boots gently landed on the floor with each of their padded bits.

Her eyes gently dilated to the new features that came before her, but quickly adjusted as they became more common. Still, without even regarding all of the artwork and neatness of the new area, she kept following until the mute slave had the pleasure to see of the droid. She felt a faint smile grow on her face as the F-Three unit gave her the tray, which she held proudly in her hand as Mute made a mental note to understand the directions.

Only a moment of soft footsteps to waste, her form traveled across the room and began to open up the tray to get the materials out, if they were even there, and if they were, starting with the basic information of serving broth with the chilled water.

{ [member="Zenva Vrotoa"] }

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Spread across the Blood Matron's desk were documents and drawing of every description relating to the legitimate business the woman ran. Datapads detailing schematics for new fighter craft, drafts for new pieces of body armor, battle droid plans, and a dozen other odds and ends. Tech, and most of it designed to end lives. In this galaxy building weapons of war was a surefire way to make a name for yourself, and amass a fortune while you were at it. Zenva had sold war machines to a half dozen major movements, from supplying The Hutt Cartel with Fighters and Corvettes to selling a massive fleet to a company by the name of Justice Shipping. There were few places in the galaxy that the Blood Matron didn't have friends or at least business associates. Maintaining this business had required sacrifices, things like personal time had been among the first to go and if not for the loyalty of servants like the droid F-Three, eating may well have gone ignored as well.

Beneath the cover of the serving platter was everything the droid had given instructions for, a bowl of dark broth, a dish with several links of sausage, a plate with odd white meat cut into neat cubes, a glass of water and a coffee mug with an accompanying pot of black coffee. The mute slave set about her task, placing the bowl and glass of water within easy reach of the Zabrak. Zenva gave a start, the sight of a real hand in her peripheral was beyond her expectations. A heavy blaster pistol was pulled from it's holster at her thigh in an instant and leveled at the slave's head. She sat there, still as a statue, for several long moments before the weapon was lowered.

She exhaled harshly, "Bloody frell Cronus!" A few papers were pushed away as the Zabrak calmed herself. "What are you doing here Cronus? I didn't summon you, did I?" The question seemed genuine as did the suspicious look she gave the bowl of broth. "Is it morning already?"

[member="Cronus Uturn"]