*Wyl*

Danica Jessom was the owner of nearly half of the planet Hazard, which was aptly named. It was a small ball of ice and rock with a barely habitable surface during the warm season, which was to say merely twenty below zero, and an entirely uninhabitable surface during the cold season, which dipped into the negative hundreds. It was also extremely rich in precious stones. The problem was getting at them.

There were machines to do the digging, but they broke down all the time in the cold weather and Danica was too cheap to think of replacing them with more weather-suitable versions. She preferred manpower to mechanization anyway, and kept a large workforce on hand to repair machines, sort stones, and do the cutting before sending the shipments off to buyers. Rather than employ regular workers, Danica bought bonds.

People racked up debts to society in many different ways, and if they had no method of paying them off, on some planets they became bonders. The bond was owned by the government of whatever society the person lived in and until it was paid off, they worked the worst jobs the government couldn't get technology to do. This process took a long time, but at least bonders on Alliance planets were taken fairly good care of, provided with food, lodging, and healthcare.

The other option was having the bond bought by a hawk. Hawks were the legal slavers of the modern era, buying and trading bonds to bring workers to locations all over the universe. Hawks ran the illicit sex trade, the underground fighting tournaments, and provided warm bodies for numerous types of cybernetic experimentation.

The Alliance tried to control the bond-buying trade, taxing all sales severely and installing monitoring chips into each bonder, designed to keep track of sales and bonder location. The databases were flawed, though, updated irregularly and not accurately synched to each other. Bonders went missing, were lost, were forgotten. If a bonder was lucky, the government who sold his bond would check up on the buyer and supervise the repayment of the debt, usually in the interest of bringing a skilled laborer back to the home planet after they'd paid their bill.

Wyl had no idea if his home planet was keeping tabs on his bond, and Danica certainly wasn't about to tell him. She liked to keep her people in the dark. Danica Jessom wasn't traditionally cruel to her bonders. Some people thought she was all right to work for, as long as you kept on her good side. Wyl's trouble was, there was no way for him to keep on her good side. She bought not just the bonds she needed, but also those she simply fancied, and she loved pretty, slender young men.

When Wyl had first arrived six months ago she'd been very accommodating, even offering him a room in her own mansion. After he'd found out it was her room she had in mind, he'd declined. She had punished him for that. She had been punishing him ever since.

Something soft hit him in the face, startling Will out of his reverie. He looked down into his lap. It was a pair of socks, rolled into a ball. He glanced over at Taylor, but he was preoccupied with buttoning up his shirt. "Thanks, T."

"Can't have the only mechanic here worth a damn losing his toes to frostbite," Taylor said with a smile. "Get dressed and head to the mess hall. Leesie's started the ovens early today."

"Seriously, is Leesie an insomniac?" Wyl asked.

"She's got a full day and can't stand to cut my meals short." Taylor said with perfect immodesty. He finished pulling his boots on and walked out of the room.

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Wyl put on the coarse socks. They were a little big on him, but they were dry and warm. He hastily stepped into the pants, pulled on the shirt and then back into his boots. He flexed his toes and grinned. It was the first time he'd had a layer of padding between his skin and the boots for close to a month. He ran a callused hand through his ragged hair, then sighed and followed Taylor to breakfast.

Taylor had disappeared into the kitchen, but Leesie was there in the mess hall, sitting at one of the long tables sipping a cup of tea. She saw Wyl enter and smiled at him. "Good morning."

Wyl shook his head. "How can you drink that stuff?"

"You know, beverages other than coffee do exist," Leesie gently mocked him. "Some of us like something with a more delicate flavor. It doesn't have to take the enamel off my teeth to wake me up."

"How you cut gems in a semi-comatose state is beyond me," Wyl replied. Leesie was the best jeweler working for Danica. Taylor had never explained to him how he had Leesie had ended up in debt, and Wyl hadn't asked; it was considered an impertinent question among bonders. All he knew was that because of their skills, they were allowed to stay together as a couple. He envied them.

Taylor brought Wyl a large cup of oily blackness that smelled divine. "That's almost pure caffeine, I'll have you know."

"Yum." He sipped the hot drink and felt his sinuses get blasted clear. "Gah...perfect."

"Disgusting." Leesie shook her head. "What's for breakfast, honey?"

"For you two, fried ham and real eggs. Everyone else gets scrambled protein spread, thanks to our lady of cheapness cutting my fucking budget again."

"Tell us how you really feel, T."

The big man shook his head. "I'm serious. It's all I can do to give that junk enough taste to be edible. If Danica isn't careful she'll start losing workers to malnutrition."

"Nah, it’s chock full o'vitaminy goodness." Wyl bared his teeth in a sarcastic grin.

"True." Leesie sighed, then smiled. "And nothing you make would ever be inedible, honey. You could spice shit up to taste good."

"That's an idea. Maybe I'll serve some to the center of the universe the next time she decides to grace us with her presence," Taylor said disgustedly. "The food'll be ready soon." He went back into the kitchen.

Leesie turned back to Wyl. "What are you working on today?"

"She wants me to finish repairing the number two grinder." He shook his head. "They just don't hold the oil in that cold, it gets sloughed off. The damn thing overheated three times during the last harvesting season." It was too cold aboveground to continue operations presently, and the gem cutters had their hands full readying stock for shipments. "I'll never talk her into replacing it, though, so it's another dirty fix and hoping it lasts long enough."

"Where is she keeping it right now?"

"Where else? The bloody warehouse." Wyl shivered involuntarily. The warehouse was the main storage facility for mining equipment not in use, and while it was underground and indoors, it was also unheated. Every time Wyl went in there, it felt like he was entering a tomb. "Can't convince her to move it to the damn shop where I could actually use all my tools."

"Reason isn't her strong suit," Leesie agreed.

Wyl grimaced. "Maybe Taylor is right. Maybe I should just sleep with her and get it over with."

"No." Leesie was unusually adamant. "You can't go to her. Letting her use you now would be tantamount to rape. You'd never forgive yourself if you caved."

Wyl blinked. "How is it that you can read my mind?"

"Not your mind, sweetie, your face." Leesie placed her free hand on top of his. "I know it's hard to believe, but people like her do get their comeuppance in time."

"You're right. It is hard to believe." Wyl was spared further uncomfortable conversation by Taylor's return. He was carrying three plates heaped with what smelled like nirvana, and they wasted no time in tucking in to the feast. All too soon it was over, though, and Taylor had to leave to start cooking for the masses, Leesie had to go cut the finest gems, and Wyl had to gather his tools and head into the warehouse. Five frickin' mechanics and he was the only one who had to work in that icebox of a warehouse.

He grabbed the long, unwieldy overalls he wore for the work off a hook next to the shop, a pair of goggles and a hood, then the lifter that contained the tools he thought he would need. Thus armed, he trudged to the small metal door that was his own personal entrance to Hell and wearily walked inside.