Page 31 of Volunteer 4711

“See?”

“But, I have my own quarters, and I have been given a language program and encouraged to learn about the Silver’s culture. I have important responsibilities.”

“Who are the Silver?”

I look at her blankly. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Who are the Silver?” she asks again.

“These aliens. That’s what I call them, and they call themselves. How do you not know?”

She laughs at me, turning this back on me. “But you’re not a slave?”

“I guess that’s what I’m here to determine for myself. Can I ask you some questions?”

“You don’t need to ask me if you can ask me questions. I’m here, aren’t I? See, you even act like a slave with me.”

Thankfully, my confidence is still riding high from the Commander’s words of praise, ‘You are not a slave,’ so I let her insult slide off my shoulders. “Do you have your own quarters?”

“I choose to sleep with my commander,” she says proudly.

I gasp, as does the doctor.

“Are you married to him?” I know enough about Silver culture to know that unmarried women never have sex with men unless they are prostitutes.

“No. I choose to sleep with him,” she replies proudly. “I take it your Commander does not treat you as well as I am treated. Given that you still are a slave, it’s not surprising.” She looks me up and down, “You’re not ugly, especially if you put some effort into it. Perhaps your Commander just doesn’t like females.”

“I wouldn’t know what he likes that way,” I say quickly. “Our relationship has always been professional.”

“But you are his valet,” she says as if that’s a code for something.

“Yes,” I look at her blankly. “It’s a real position on every ship in the fleet, usually filled by a Silver.”

“But you undress him every day.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I undress myself, nor does he do anything but change clothing. On this ship, there are strict rules about sex.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “All the pirates have those rules on their ships.”

“Not to be rude, but I don’t understand how your commander can flaunt those rules with you so blatantly if you are not a slave still?” I ask.

“Simple, he says that he loves me,” she replies.

“You need to ask for him to marry you or, at the very least, find you your own quarters. If our fleets merge, my Commander will not tolerate this relationship without you being married,” I suggest to her. I had already seen one couple shot out of the airlock because they were carrying on an affair without being married.

“He can’t tell my commander what to do,” she replies.

“I don’t know if he can, but I know we are the stronger fleet, and that is the rule here.”

“You are not the stronger fleet,” she says.

“I am my Commander’s valet, and I know for a fact we are the stronger fleet.”

“How does doing his laundry give you access to that kind of information?” she questions me.

It’s my turn to laugh now. “I’m also responsible for all of his correspondence. It’s obvious where his fleet stands in the hierarchy of Silvers.”

I can tell by the look on her face she has no such responsibilities, and so she doubles down. “Your Commander is really getting his money’s worth then, isn’t he? Oh, and you know, the government is trying to get him on a small legality that he stole you or something like that? Everyone on my ship talks about it when you’re mentioned. Perhaps you should join your Commander in bed, so he doesn’t decide you aren’t worth the trouble and sends you back to whatever countryside hole you came from.”

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