Free Alien Alliance by Maxine Millar Page B

they earned them. They looked beaten.
They were beaten. Kaswa was having trouble taking all this in.
    Three more days passed as Kaswa learnt to
drink water and eat the bland yucky paste that passed for food. He
had to pull the lever and put the paste on his hands and eat it
like an animal. At least he had hands. Some other Races didn’t. A
large Avian chose to starve. He thought it was a Clet. Some People
of many Races just gave up and died including Zeobani. This latter
shocked him. Zeobani were born optimists. Every day, after the
lights were turned on, some Nashi would come around and drag out
the dead. There were no Cleaners and no deodorants. The stench was
awful and getting worse. And he was not getting used to it! A slow
anger burned in him.
    Suddenly one day there was a commotion and
several Nashi entered. They were gestured out the door and into a
loading chute leading to a large spaceship shuttle which lifted off
after it was crammed full. He recognised the model. It was a
freight or troop carrier. A basic model with no seats. He felt the
typical sensation of nausea indicating they were going up rapidly.
Presumably to a spaceship. A while later it sounded like they were
docking. They were then unloaded into a slave pen. He recognised
what it was from news pictures of such Hell holes. There were no
explanations. Kaswa looked around again for Aswin. The pen held
about 100, a mix of at least 15 different Races. The doors had
closed. There was the usual dispenser of paste and water and the
usual holes in the ground (deck in this case), for elimination. No
privacy. Nothing else. At least the pen didn’t stink yet but he
sure did. There were no ways to see out so he had no idea what kind
of a ship this was.
    There were none of his Race here, so he
again stayed with the Zeobani. There was little conversation. Most
just sat or stood. There were no perches for Avians. There was
nothing but the hard floor. One Clet was present, but it looked
like it was dying. The Clets were uncomfortable standing as their
feet cramped after a while of being forced to lie flat against a
hard surface. Kaswa did not know if it was the same Clet. He went
over to see if he could help it but it ignored him. They had no
Translators and the Zeobani seemed to be the only Race here that
could speak to some others in their own languages. They could speak
at least ten languages between them, his included. And they all
spoke Main, the language of space. Kaswa knew a little of it,
enough to qualify as a pilot, but the Zeobani, being good mimics,
spoke it well. That was the trouble with good Translators; one
tended to rely on them. Now, without technology, they couldn’t even
communicate with each other.
    The awful journey continued for what seemed
like weeks and probably was. He had lost track of time. Finally,
they were loaded into shuttles again and sent off. By the sounds,
Kaswa thought they might be landing on a planet. But which one?
Were they now to be sold? They were unloaded onto a planet Kaswa
didn’t recognise. The sun was blinding after the dim lights of the
slave pen but it was hot. He shivered despite the warmth. There
were bodies on the ground and they had to move among them to get to
where they were being directed to go. Finally, they were addressed
by a member of the Keulfyd Race. Kaswa was shocked to see they were
surrounded by different Races, all armed. Seeing Relogs, he
shuddered. Nearly as trigger happy as Nashi. At least all these
Aliens had Translators. Had they already been sold?
    It spoke slowly and waited while the
Translator boomed out in multiple languages, one after the after.
“Don’t eat the food here, it is poisoned. The water is safe. Return
to the plane you came on by dusk. You are to bring all the bodies
over to the planes and load them in. Go into those buildings and
throw the bodies out the windows and doors. You are then to load
them into the planes. After several minutes the Translator stopped.
“Move or