STAR WARS: ADVENTURES OF BUCK RYDUR - BOOK 1 PART 1 FREEDOM'S PRICE

Chapter Two (cont.)

Three months had passed since the Master sold me to Solii. My terror of the Besalisk was slowly morphing into wary contempt. It was like an unspoken contest, his abuse against my grim compliance to see which of us would break first.

After catching me singing quietly to myself one day, he added performing for the cantina to my long list of chores. He would force me to watch various holorecordings of popular performers to learn songs and dances, then make me perform them on the little stage the musicians usually stand on.

If I messed up at all or refused to take a request from a patron for not knowing the song, Sollii would beat me afterward or refuse to feed me. Soon every spare second I had was spent learning ridiculous dance moves and memorizing lyrics, usually in languages I'd never heard of, just to stay alive.

Even though it made me feel like a complete idiot prancing around in front of people, for some reason they really liked watching me. Pretty soon Sollii was making me perform two hours every night and charging people to watch. But even though I was making him profit, he kept me doing my regular work all day. It was growing to be far too much.

One evening I was scrubbing the kitchen floor when suddenly I heard an electronic yell followed by a terrific crash. Spinning around, I saw one of Solii's server droids had rolled across the wet floor and slipped, falling and breaking itself in a dozen places. When Solii barged in and saw it, he instantly blamed me.

"I did nothing!" I protested as he loomed over me.

"It slipped on the floor you forgot to dry!" he roared. "Y'know how much it's gonna cost me to get that thing fixed? Do you? 'Course you don't. You're just a frackin' little maggot with an attitude!"

He grabbed the strap hanging from his belt and lashed out at me. I dropped the scrubber and ran. Solii chased me around, smashing cabinets and shelves. I dashed into the pantry and tried to shut the door, but before it closed all the way Solii barged through, knocking me down.

He stood over me, the strap lifted high over his head. Instinctively I curled up into a tight ball, head tucked into my arms, knees pulled up to my forehead. Then a harsh pain like stinging fire shot across my back. I flinched, a muffled scream escaping me, and curled up even tighter. The blows kept coming, falling on my back until it went numb. I was shaking hard, tears trickling down my face.

"Maybe that'll teach you," Solii growled, wrapping up his strap. "I'm the master here, and you're the slave. Better start treatin' me with respect, or you'll be gettin' more of that!"

He stormed off, leaving a trail of muttered curses behind. I lay where I was for a long time, too horror-struck to move or even think. When I finally sat up, I screamed again. Crying, I ground my teeth together and struggled to drag myself over to my basin near the door. Thankfully there was still a bit of water in it left over from this morning. Between gasps and sobs I pulled off my shirt, wet it, and dabbed the damp part on my left shoulder blade.

It took me forever to wash my back. Over and over I wished Wyler was here to do it for me in his careful, familiar way. By the time I was done it was almost morning. I fell asleep, completely wiped out. About an hour later Solii forced me back to work. I moved very stiffly, my back extremely tender.

The angry red stripes from the strap would probably leave scars, if they healed without getting infected. Solii carried on like nothing happened, still pushing me to work all day. That night while I danced and sang trying to look happy and cute, sweat poured off my body and mixed with dirt and trickles of fresh blood.

After my performance the Besalisk grabbed me by the scruff and poured a large cask of ale over my head.

"Much as that stench fits ya," he grumbled, "you need a smell that'll appeal to customers, not make 'em keel over."