Page 1 of Captain's Treasure
Chapter1
1017 A. N,Planet Baxianous, somewhere between the Gliese and Hedron Solar Systems
“You’ve been so good to me, Dezmuhnd Cuocua,—so honorable—I will set you free upon my death.” The old man’s weary voice rattled like dried leaves on a forest floor.
Dez paused, resting the rake in the weed free path and wiping the sweat from his bald pate. He glanced back at his owner. “You are too kind, sir. But I prefer you alive.”
“Ha. As do I, but we both know my time is coming.” His frail hands gripped the arms of the chair Dez had placed on the paved circle in the center greenhouse. Age had begun to win the fight for the old man’s life in the last months.
Dez shifted the rake and resumed his work, the labor helped him to smother the glimmer of hope deep in his chest where its presence wouldn’t fester into dreams. No matter what his owner promised, Dez had long given up the idea of freedom, finding his fated mate, or ever seeing the paradise he was raised in again. At least among the tall leafy plants, Dez had the illusion of being outside. He preferred to spend as much time working with the plants as possible, but it would never compare to his home planet of Din’Gale.
The bell chimed, indicating a visitor.
“Dez,” his owner called. “Come with me.”
Dez rushed to the old man’s side and carried his owner into the cool, dim foyer, carefully placing him on his feet. The old man clutched Dez’s arm.
A stranger in hand-embroidered opulent robes cleared his throat. He had a satchel clutched in his bony hands.
Dez’s owner addressed the housekeeper who lingered in the shadows. “Bring drinks to my office.” He tugged on Dez’s arm. “Dez, you will join us.”
The last time Dez had been in the office was the day he’d arrived to honor his contract. It wasn’t a room he sought to enter again. After getting the old man into his chair at his desk, Dez took a step back, straightened his gray tunic, and clasped his hands in front of him, waiting for instruction.
The visitor extracted a data scroll and unfurled it on the desk. “As we discussed, the changes to your last will and testament are highlighted. Specifically,” the visitor pointed to a glowing paragraph on the scroll, “the release of the indentured servant, Dezmuhnd Cuocoa, and his gift of a travel stipend, the annuity for your housekeeper, and the dispersal of the remaining funds to the designated charity.”
Was his owner cutting his children out of his will? Dez had only met the two sons once in all his years of living on Baxianous. It was the only time he’d been treated as property instead of a person. Perhaps his owner had realized the folly of spoiling such entitled brats.
The old man’s signature on the scroll brought a lightness to Dez’s chest. Thoughts of returning home someday might actually come true. He withheld the smile from his lips. He couldn’t take pleasure in the thought of his master dying even if it would mean his freedom. There was no honor in celebrating such an event, especially before it happened. But he couldn’t help the images of his beautiful lush planet that flashed through his mind, or the memory of the clean air. He would have the freedom to travel where and when he wished. Perhaps, after he’d seen the planets, he would start his own farm, if there were enough funds to secure a small plot of land.
A chance to see his parents again. To hug his sister and finally celebrate her marriage. To be together as a family for the holidays once again. He could envision the joy on their faces as if he’d already been freed. The unreal possibility of a different future than the one he’d committed to as a lifetime of servitude was almost too big to contain inside himself.
The visitor rolled the scroll, shook the old man’s hand, and turned. Dez’s caught the man’s eye and the coldness he found speared worry though Dez’s gut. The urge to warn his master stuck behind his teeth as he clenched his jaw. It wasn’t his place to share hisconcernswith his master.
Three short planetary months later, Dez stood in the kitchen next to the housekeeper, who was also dressed head-to-toe in black seven days into mourning their owner. His sons had finally arrived from the far side of the large planet, but Dez’s owner had already been cremated and the ashes, contained in a polished metal urn, sat on a round table in the entry. The boys, or really men though they didn’t act like it, had barely given the memorial space a glance. Shortly after their arrival, the same man who had updated the will rushed in and joined the sons in their father’s office. Dez had been dismissed when he attempted to enter the space. The eldest son told him to wait in the kitchen.
Dez fidgeted. Soon. He would be gone from this hellish planet soon. Released to the paradise of his true home. The announcement couldn’t come soon enough.
“You two, come to the office,” the older son barked through the door he’d opened. Dez followed the housekeeper and mirrored her pose of submission, waiting for the big announcement.
The visitor rolled up the data scroll that had been open on the desk. His condescending smirk was the only warning Dez had that his gut had been correct months ago—the lawyer had been in collusion with the sons.
“My father’s estate has been settled. As expected, he left everything to us, his cherished sons.” The older son’s gaze darted from Dez to the housekeeper, watching for argument.
Dez froze. The hope that he’d been wrong about the advocate drained from him, leaving an ice-cold anger in its wake. The lawyer had betrayed his owner, taken his credits, and likely the sons’ too. For what? More credits? Honorless bastards, the lot of them.
“…disposing of the assets.” The master’s son had been speaking, but Dez had lost focus. “As part of that effort, your contracts will be sold at auction tomorrow. You will continue to perform your duties until your contracts are transferred. We will tolerate no slacking, no disobedience, no resistance.” He crossed his arms and glared at Dez.
Dez could likely kill the weakling with his bare hands—such a coddled, useless excuse for a male—but that would only earn Dez a swift death and dishonor his family. He’d sold himself willingly and provided the funds to his family. The promise of freedom had only been a brief illusion. There was no way to prove his owner’s intent to free him.
Perhaps his next owner would be as kind and easy to work for. Or perhaps they might actually free him at some point.
Dez shook off the drugging thought. Hope was a wicked tool that would only invoke pain in the heart of the hopeless. He clenched his jaw and forced the fire of betrayal down before he was inspired to dispense retribution to these spoiled, conniving sons-of-bitches. Better to find peace with his reality and release all thoughts of seeing his family or living as a free man again.
The advocate addressed Dez and the housekeeper. “Finish your duties for the day, then wash and dress. The auction is this evening.”
Dez swallowed down the urge to run from the unknown. The housekeeper shivered. Tears streaked down her face, but she too said nothing. If there was something to say to comfort her, he’d gladly speak it, but there was nothing.
That evening Dez was led onto a makeshift stage in a large warehouse. Bright lights blocked his view of the crowd.
