Mesaran Sunset

By Hugh Gordon

Mesara is ripe for revolution. Tarasitan spy Teyon Verneer has become the slave of the Mesaran Empress. He meets a beautiful young maid newly arrived in the Imperial Palace. Teyon cannot help but fall for Mya Tarrona, but will he risk his mission, and his life, to be with the woman he loves? And who is the Rebel leader Firebrand who may be a Mesaran Princess?
Part Three of the Mesara Trilogy

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hugh Gordon
• Release date: Jun 24, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452342443

Hugh Gordon

Hugh Gordon is currently a PhD candidate in History at the University of Victoria in British Columbia, Canada. He loves history almost as much as writing fiction.

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Mesaran Sunset

Hugh Gordon

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Hugh Gordon

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Russia loves to feel the whip.

Empress Alexandra of Russia

L’état c’est moi

Louis XIV

Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.

John F. Kennedy

PROLOGUE

The Goddess’ Haven Central Slave Market had withstood the centuries in a bleak concrete building with few windows. This was a result of the desire more to keep the slaves safely locked inside rather than to show them off to the buyers. In the previous few decades there had been a clamour to create a more buyer-friendly atmosphere. The lot next door was purchased and a palatial glass fronted arcade was constructed that spanned twenty-five stories. The centre of the interior was a broad atrium that stretched to the roof. Along the edges of the atrium and the exterior were broad walkways that went past the cages. Buyers could stroll up and down the aisles at their leisure, comparing slave statistics on monitors. A database was linked to terminals all over the building so buyers could enter criteria to search for what they desired.

The Central Slave Market had any type of slave that a Mesaran buyer required. There were labourers for the plantations and factories, mostly male. Unless one thought that all slaves were for physical labour, a good percentage of the merchandise was slaves who were educated as secretaries and typists. These scribes were both male and female. A selection of slaves were trained in housework, these were the largest numbers working in single-family middle-income homes. Most of the household slaves were women. There was a fourth large division of slaves, comprised of both men and women: service slaves. A society that knew no restraint on the sale of human life for profit had no qualms using those lives for personal pleasure. In Mesara, one did not need to buy the act when one bought the person.

Much like the variety of slaves for sale, on any day there were several thousand buyers walking the halls in the Central Slave Market, all from a variety of classes of Mesaran society. There were the ordinary citizens, buying a slave to work as a housemaid or as a nanny. Then there were the industrial buyers, purchasing scores of muscular slaves for the mines or factories. Then there were the imperial buyers who purchased entire consignments or shipments after only examining slaves for their physical features. Imperial slaves were conditioned separately after purchase in order to conform to exact specifications.

Slaves were used for more than the four basic professions. The database was in use so that a potential buyer could select the exact job requirements without having to interview large numbers of slaves. Interrogation of unconditioned slaves was a time consuming process and something that most buyers would prefer not to do. The Market Management wanted to keep the buying experience as sterile and as pleasurable as possible. Purchases could even be made from the ‘Net, though that was not totally in vogue yet. Humans were important enough purchases for people at least to look at them before buying them.

It was as simple as that. All one had to do was swipe the barcode and thumb the listed price (unless there was a sale). The only variation was when a slave was flagged with certain trademarks that were known to be of interest to several buyers. At that point, an auction was held. With the ever-increasing demand for slaves, auctions were held continuously throughout the working day.

The purpose of the central atrium was to hold auctions. Monitors all over the area displayed pictures of the platform where the slaves were being shown to the audience. Anyone who had registered upon entering the Central Slave Market could bid on a slave in the atrium. They could enter their bids on any of the hundreds of terminals in the building, but most of the interested parties took seats and watched as the auctions went on.

The first auction of the day was held to decide the fate of a young woman. She was strikingly attractive at six feet and obviously had been groomed to be more than just the teacher her record said she was. The bidders were equally divided between men and women. Mesaran society had no problem with its freeborn women using slaves of either gender for sexual satisfaction. Mesaran religion had long taught that sexual ecstasy made one closer to the Goddess and if a woman knew what a woman wanted, so much the better.

The opening bid is 40 000 Imperial credits. This is a young, but educated slave for use in teaching small children within the home. She is an excellent investment for those who prefer keeping their children close at hand. The next bid is 50 000, thank you. Ah, and now it is 60 000… It is still 60 000… I will remind you that this slave is only without references because her previous master died of a heart attack and his widow had no use for her. The widow gives her an excellent reference… 75 000, thank you, sir… 85 000… You will not regret this purchase, madam! 95 000…

A hush fell across the crowd. It was rare that a relatively common slave like this one would fetch such a high price. Obviously more than one of the wealthy shoppers had taken a liking to the young slave.

105 000… If there are no more bids in five seconds, bidding shall be completed… And this lot is sold! I will remind the crowd that they must indicate on their bidding forms whether they desire to have their names known when their purchases are made.

And now the second lot. This slave is an experienced farm worker from Fireline Province, having previously had several years training on Her Imperial Highness Crown Princess Tara Alexa’s Steel Whip Slave Farm. He is also genetically suitable for breeding. Shall I start the bidding at 75 000?

Breeding was a codeword in an auction for exceptional sexual stamina. This piqued the interest of many of the female audience members. The atrium was too drafty to have the slave’s shorts removed. (A sick slave fetched a lesser price) However, the slave’s clothing was tight enough to see his features of particular interest.

90 000… 110 000… 150 000, really ladies and gentlemen… The auctioneer was sweating. He could see the excitement in the audience’s eyes. 200 000! 250 000...

The bids stopped abruptly as buyers began to realize that the price was too high for most people to afford. The middle-class buyers had long stopped entering their bids and now it was a contest for the nobility and the property owners. However, a single slave was usually not worth a quarter of a million credits, even to the most decadent of the upper classes. It was obvious to most spectators that there was a contest of pride going on during this auction; the only question was, between whom?

Sold to 250 000 to the Countess Yolandor. This was a case where the purchaser wanted to get recognition for having captured the prize.

The third auction would not have normally merited much attention from the audience. There were whispers that the Empress had ordered the execution of her personal scribe and assistant and that the Imperial SlaveMaster and SlaveMistress were present to arrange for the acquisition of a new scribe, among their other purchases.

Normally, members of the Imperial family had priority in the purchase of slaves. However, because of the recent drain of slaves to the battlefront, the Empress had discarded the privilege indefinitely. The nobility, sensing a potential weakness, decided not to lay down in front of Imperial purchasers. It was a form of rebellion against an Imperial family that scorned a free market in slaves. They were determined to make the Empress pay through the nose for slaves that would have normally cost her a tenth of the price. This was especially the case for slaves that had not been raised on farms owned by members of the Imperial family.

Scribes, because they did not have physical training, did not normally fetch high prices. Educated slaves were a significant percentage of the Mesaran group. Those chosen to serve the Empress would get additional training so there would be no need to buy highly educated slaves either.

The Imperial SlaveMaster Lord Dominator Texlar and SlaveMistress Lady Dominatrix Vinyla bid on Teyon Verneer because he fit the profile the Empress had been looking for. Not too muscular, yet not sickly looking, he was of a medium build and plain features. In other words, the male service slaves would not torment him for having intruded their domain. He had medium brown eyes and hair that would have blended him into any crowd in Mesara.

Teyon’s personal history was sketchy. He had been on a slave farm for a year after his capture on the southern continent. He had not told his captors who he had been in Tarasita, except that he was a writer. The farm's owner, the Lord Curaton, had entered examples of the young man’s text and penmanship. The Empress had flicked through the database at the suggestion of the SlaveMistress and had selected Teyon’s writing from among the hundreds of samples. If her agents did not come back with the slave she had chosen, they would be in trouble.

The bidding opened at 10 000. It quickly went up to 70 000 in a matter of seconds. In lieu of the recent price gouging the SlaveMaster and SlaveMistress were allowed access to the Central Slave Market bidding database. They noted that their opposition came not from the nobility, but from wealthy industrialists trying to make a name for themselves. Every generation there was another group of rich individuals who wished to be added to the lists of the nobility in order to gain status and privileges. However, what they were doing now would not help them curry favour with the Empress. Once the SlaveMistress reported to her on who had hiked the price, the Empress might seek to regain some money by imposing special taxes or requiring contributions for the Treasury.

The SlaveMistress got up from beside her companion and walked over to where Durok Laney, owner of the Black Circle Steel Works, was seated. He was chortling with some friends when the striking Amazon dressed in her black latex catsuit sat down beside him. When she crossed her legs his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

Are you enjoying the auction, Mr. Laney? She asked with only the hint of an edge in her voice.

Oh, indeed. He grinned, unaware of what she was thinking.

I would suggest that if you wish to continue enjoying this auction that you stop bidding.

His smile disappeared in record time. And what would happen if I did not stop?

Her smile continued and her voice was as cool and commanding as ever. Then my companion and I would be forced to return to Her Imperial Majesty empty-handed. Do you wish to explain to the Empress why she was forced to pay ten times the price of a scribe when the other bidder did not even need him?

Laney turned red. But this is an open market.

As I made clear, we can do nothing to you if choose, pig-headedly, to continue your course of action. All I am saying is that it would be more pleasant for you to stop.

Laney did not say anything. She stood up and turned away. He did not punch in another bid.

Sold for 75 000 credits!

PART ONE

The purchase of the scribe was not the last one that the SlaveMaster and SlaveMistress had to make on their trip to the Central Slave Market that morning. The two officials in charge of slave affairs for the entire Empire made their way down every hall in the market. Every so often they would stop to examine a slave and his or her record in the database. Sometimes they would like what they saw and entered their authorization codes for the purchase.

The Central Slave Market existed because of the SlaveMaster and SlaveMistress, so they were treated with the utmost courtesy and deference, at least by the staff if not by the other customers. The First Emperor had created the two positions to not only prevent, counter and suppress slave revolts, but also to organize the system by which human beings were bred, captured, bought and sold for trade. It had been Lord Dominator Helgar of Fenlaron who had suggested that the Emperor Garron II create a Central Slave Market so that buyers did not have to go to the seven different regional markets that had existed prior to the amalgamation to see all the slaves in the capital. Henceforth, slave markets were placed near transport hubs and had been regulated imperially, but operated privately.

Their business done, the two officials selected slaves for themselves. Serving with your spouse was one of the pleasures of the job. It was also practical. Two close minds of opposite sexes helped to find the best ways to break the spirits of unruly slaves. Critics might have complained that their personal desires might have conflicted with the slaves they were choosing for the Empress, but their duty to Her Imperial Majesty overrode anything else. Clad in their tight-fitting sexually provocative uniforms, they were the symbols of Imperial dominance over all humanity in Mesara and the intention to spread that dominance over the entire planet.

Teyon Verneer had no idea who had purchased him. He desperately wanted to know. The character of a master or mistress meant life or death for a slave. Because he was property, no one told him anything.

None of the other slaves knew anything either. A group of about twenty had been placed in a transport. Each was chained to the vehicle, but could still converse with the others in the compartment. Normally conversation would have been forbidden, but at a time like this most of the slaves were too anxious to keep quiet.

Does anybody recognize where we are heading? Teyon asked.

We’re still in Goddess’ Haven. A kitchen slave said. The driver is going up the mountain.

There were collective gasps. That could only mean one thing: The Palace. As one travelled higher and higher up the slope of Mount Ælah, there were only two destinations: the Imperial Palace and the Convent of Holy Ecstasy. The Sisters did not take slaves.

This was worse than any of the slaves could have dreamed. If they had stopped to think, they would have realized that their selection said they were the pick of the lot in the Market. However, this small consolation was outweighed by the knowledge that slaves in the Imperial Household rarely lasted more than a few months. The Empress, her daughters and her siblings were reputed to be the cruellest slaveowners in Mesara, but then, that was to be expected.

Teyon was not sure of what to think of the Palace when he saw it, especially when he had to compare it with the Convent across the street. Both were buildings of rather diverse architecture. The nunnery appeared to be coated in glass and sparkled in the noon sun. In fact, it was the same Transparent style as the Central Slave Market. The Imperial Palace, on the other hand, was jet black and looked like a block of obsidian rising thirty stories high above the mountaintop. The monolithic building looked a solid beacon of the dominance of the Mesaran Empire. There were no distinguishing marks except for the Imperial Golden Cobra glistening in the afternoon sun, in contrast to the jet of the building. The pyramid symbolized the hierarchical structure of the Empire with the Empress and the noble minority at the top and the common masses at the bottom.

Teyon thought they would be going into the aboveground entrance into the lobby, but he would not have that luxury. He was just a slave and could not enter the Palace through the realm of citizens. The transport drove around to the side of the building. At that end, a ramp allowed larger vehicles discreet access to lower levels. All Teyon could see initially was a labyrinth of lighted tunnels.

The height of thirty stories was indeed tall, but it betrayed the fact that the Palace actually stretched even further beneath the mountain. Hundreds of years of Imperial rule had burrowed the Palace further and further into the ground, hiding the pet projects of several monarchs. The entire Palace Guard and the Imperial Household had quarters there. Aboveground was the domain of the Empress and her immediate entourage. Only the most dedicated servants and slaves lived aboveground, or in the clouds as the lesser denizens of the palace called it. The Chief Intendant had quarters in the Palace, but she also had her own villa by the sea. Belowground was known as in the mud.

The transport stopped in front of a loading dock beneath a sign labelled New Slave Arrivals. The SlaveMaster and Mistress got out of their compartment in the transport and stood on the dock. And, oh Goddess, beside them stood several Imperial DomTroopers of both sexes with mirrored helmets and nasty looking whips. Those people were reputed to be nastier than the paraDoms at any of the training camps. They were pure sadists, trained personally by the SlaveMaster and Mistress.

The transport door was lifted open and within seconds the twenty slaves had been hustled out of the vehicle onto the loading dock. The Doms had all twenty slaves kissing concrete while the SlaveMistress examined the new purchases. The SlaveMaster had been required elsewhere. Externally the slaves were perfection, except for the scribe. The Empress expected her scribe to be a throw rug, not someone who would hit her back.

Take them to Tagging. The SlaveMistress ordered.

The slaves had magnetic collars placed around their necks and their arms were bound in steel behind their backs. Steel rods were attached between the collar and cuffs and leashes were attached to the collars. There was one Dom for each slave. That was about four times to the normal number in the Palace, but new slaves needed special attention. They were whipped as they moved into the next room, whether they needed motivation or not. The lashes did not harm the slaves. The infliction of pain was merely to promote fear, pure and simple.

The Tagging room was set up as a labyrinth from one end of the other so that the slaves had to go through each section as if on an assembly line. The first station was where the charted information around each slave’s neck was fed into the Palace computer database. The slaves were asked questions if their personal history was not in depth enough. Teyon had grown used to the questions. The functionary asking the questions was a dour woman with a pallid complexion.

Lord Curaton says in his reference that you learned Mesaran before you arrived at his farm.

Yes, I learned it in the Occupied Territories.

You mean the Protected Territories.

Whatever. Teyon rolled his eyes.

The Dom behind him lashed him across the back. The pallid functionary smiled. I suggest you watch your choice of words, slave. The Empress is not as forgiving as your current overseer. What were you doing in the Protected Territories?

I was born there.

Your accent is not from that area and there is no record of you.

My parents were nomads. We encountered an Imperial patrol and I was captured.

Very well. I suggest you work on your pronunciation of Mesaran, slave Verneer. The Empress expects her slaves to speak properly in front of her. He is finished here.

Teyon was pushed to the next station where his unique identification number (S001-28743296) was encoded on a microchip that acted as a transmitter. All a tracker had to do was type in the number of the slave and the Empire’s satellite tracking system would pinpoint the slave’s location within half a kilometre. In the Palace, a slave could be pinpointed to the room. The microchip tag was inserted into the back of Teyon’s head.

It will sting for a few moments, that is all. The white coated technician said.

The third station was even more painful. Each slave received the barcode equivalent of their id number tattooed on the bottom of his or her right wrist. It was a method of confirming the slave’s identity in case the chip in their head failed. The needle hurt a lot. After it was over, Teyon stood transfixed staring at the new pattern on his skin before the Dom pushed him into the next room. Well, at least he had not been branded. That had happened in previous times.

The slaves were led a group at a time in elevators up into the Throne Room. Some of the slaves were scared and had to be forcibly subdued. Teyon did not care. The Empress was just another woman on a power trip. He knew that she was no better than anyone, despite what the official propaganda claimed.

The throne room was pure light, quite a stark contrast from the underground warrens. It was not as dark as he thought it would be. The windows surrounded the room, so that the Empress had an unrivalled view of the city. Her throne could be moved depending on the time of day so that she never had to stare directly into the sun. It was made of solid gold (but had cushions for Her Imperial Majesty’s Imperial behind). In recent decades, a computer terminal was attached to it so that the Empress did not have to sit idly while having audiences. She also had a private study when she did not want to be in public.

When the slaves exited the pylon, they could not miss seeing the Empress. They only saw her for less than a second, because the Doms jabbed them in their stomachs in order to get them to kneel before her. Teyon was able to fall on his knees before the Dom hit him. He was no bootlicker, but he did not want unnecessary pain. Because he was not in pain, he was able to peek at the woman who was to have supreme control over his life.

Her Imperial Majesty Ilsa