The kindest words Jocelyn could muster for guard 256 at the moment were ‘asshole scum bucket.’

“Easy with the hands next time,” Jocelyn scowled as he finished his body search on her. She wished she could see the face of the man who had just grabbed her ass but, unfortunately, it was concealed behind a glass helmet.

“I’m just being thorough,” he responded, “And watch your tone of voice. Otherwise you’ll get a taste of the back of my hand.”

“Threatening a woman too; you must be a real draw with the ladies.”

256 took one menacing step forward.

Jocelyn held her ground, despite knowing that the potential consequences of being strong-willed were physically painful.

Luckily before 256 could raise a hand, the double doors of the Overseer’s complex swung open. Sitting on his hovering throne was the Overseer, hands resting on his belly. Floating on either side of him were his drones—or murder balls as Jocelyn liked to call them as of this morning.

“Ah Ms. Jocelyn Dark; words cannot express how delighted I am that you’ve accepted my proposal for dinner.”

His hungry eyes did a once-over of her outfit—a red flowing dress, which he specifically requested of her to wear. He nodded with approval.

Being ogled by the Overseer was as pleasant as swallowing spiders—though, at least the spiders were protein.

The dress itself was a traditional Xaksunian ensemble, popular amongst their upper class. Rose had explained that on Kymera, the color red represented wealth and the fabric, picked from the cotton grown on a holy Xaksunian burial ground, symbolized immortality.

To Jocelyn it looked like a ritzy, blood-colored dress that rich snobs wore back on Earth—nothing to write home about (not that there was a home for her to write to anymore).

“I trust your short trip over here was pleasant?” The Overseer asked.

“It was fine, up until Private Pervert here decided to get a little too grabby with my lady parts.” Jocelyn tilted her head towards 256.

The Overseer frowned and turned his large, globulous eyes towards the guard.

“Is this true?”

“She’s a slave,” 256 replied, confident that it was the appropriate answer.

A piss-poor reason for his exploratory hands, Jocelyn thought.

“She’s a valued member of my organization,” the Overseer said calmly. “So once again, I ask, is it true that you handled one of my best employees inappropriately?”

256 didn’t respond.

“Your silence is the answer I need,” he said. “Your actions have violated company policy.”

“We have a company policy?”

“We do now,” the Overseer replied. “No sexual harassment to Ms. Jocelyn Dark—ever.”

The left drone fired a single laser beam that went straight through 256’s glass helmet. The speed of the drone’s attack caught Jocelyn off guard, reminiscent of the lightning quick strike of a coiled cobra.

256 dropped to the ground dead, wisps of smoke rising from the hole in his helmet.

“I can’t stand employees who don’t follow company policy,” the Overseer muttered. He gestured for Jocelyn to enter into his home.

She bit her lip, silencing the scream at the back of her throat. It took a few seconds for her to regain her composure but when she did, she was quick to acknowledge the Overseer and accept his hospitality. He wasn’t one you’d keep waiting.

Jocelyn stepped through the open door and into the psychopath’s den.

Much to Jocelyn’s surprise, the Overseer’s home wasn’t the display of over-indulgence she expected. The building itself was a wondrous, architectural achievement—sleek, roomy, and bright. Back on Earth, it was referred to as an ‘open concept.’

It looked pleasant.

Minimalist abstract paintings decorated the crème colored walls, while a grey couch (Jocelyn highly doubted the Overseer could sit in it), a wall-mounted television, and an aquarium housing exotic alien fish were the trio of residents in the largest and brightest room on the main floor.

The Overseer had a specific sense of style.

“I look towards the guards to set good examples for all the slaves,” the Overseer sighed. “I stress to them the importance of gaining respect through discipline, fairness, and effective communication. Yet, every single day I see displays from them that are less than…” he paused, “…acceptable.”

And so, you butcher them like cattle, Jocelyn thought.

“I need leaders, Ms. Dark. Good leaders that will drive efficiency and achieve our corporate goals with laser-like precision.”

Jocelyn couldn’t help but glance at one of the murder balls hovering over them as he mentioned the words “laser-like precision.”

He led Jocelyn to the dining room where a long, ash-colored table rested in the center. In contrast to the minimalism of the rest of the house, the dining room table housed the largest display of food Jocelyn had ever seen. It was the epitome of gluttonous indulgence.

Her stomach immediately started grumbling. She realized she hadn’t eaten all day.

No time for food yet, she thought. There was work that needed to be done.

Her eyes focused on the stone clock resting on the mantle of the fireplace, right across from the dining room table. It was right where Jaks said it was.

She’d find the Halycon extract hidden underneath the clock. All she had to do was wait for the Overseer to have one of his narcolepsy spells and then…

“Sit,” the Overseer ordered. His tone of voice was aggressive, as if he had just read her mind and discovered her plan.

Jocelyn did as she was told.

Her heart felt like war drums, beating ferociously against her chest. She prayed that she didn’t look too nervous. That would only draw his suspicion.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the Overseer said.

Jocelyn swallowed. “Okay.”

“I can read your thoughts on your face like a book: line by line, page by page, chapter by chapter.”

Jocelyn eyed the butter knife on the table. If push-came-to-shove, would it be an effective weapon against the Overseer?

No, of course it wouldn’t. It was just a butter knife.

Besides, the two drones would cut her down in seconds before any metal could hit skin. Jocelyn held her breath as the Overseer opened his shark-like mouth.

“You’re thinking this, Ms. Jocelyn Dark: To what pleasure do you have dining with me, the Overseer, chief executive officer of Behyru’s mining operation?”

A flood of relief washed over her like rainfall in a blistering desert. “Yes,” she agreed emphatically. “You nailed it.”

The Overseer smiled. “Of course I did. As a leader, it is my duty to understand the motivation of all of my employees.”

Jocelyn decided to humor him and nodded graciously.

“You’re here tonight because I see great things in you,” the Overseer said. “Believe it or not, you factor heavily into my future plans for business growth.”

“Not too far in the future, I hope,” Jocelyn said as she raised her arms, displaying her black veins.

“Yes,” the Overseer frowned. “I understand that you’re currently on borrowed time. It is a shame. You must be devastated.”

Jocelyn shrugged. “I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Like hell.”

“Yet, you’re still able to perform your duties effectively,” the Overseer marveled. “You, my dear, are inspirational.”

“Thank you, Overseer.”

“Please, in my home, there are no formalities. You may call me by my birth name, Bulba Fyore.” His smile was full of pride, like he had just given Jocelyn the greatest gift in the world.

“Thank you, Bulba Fyore.”

“Just Bulba.”

“Bulba.”

“Good.”

He gestured towards the mountain of food displayed on the table. “Please, help yourself. I’m aware that it must have been a long time since you’ve enjoyed rich foods such as this. Tell me, when was the last time you tasted fruit?”

Jocelyn thought about the picnic Jaks had laid out for her the other night and all the yummy grapes she had devoured.

“A very long time,” Jocelyn lied. Her stomach was snarling like a pack of hungry wolves.

Bulba must have heard it too. He raised his hand, gesturing for her to eat.

Jocelyn helped herself to a piece of piping hot sweet bread. She bit into the crust and relished the taste of the steaming bun.

Bulba grabbed a massive piece of meat hock the size of Jocelyn’s head and took a generous bite from it.

The sounds of his lips smacking together along with the slurping noises made Jocelyn lose her appetite almost immediately.

“Delicious, isn’t it? I only employ the services of the best Dromedian chefs,” Bulba announced. “As you may or may not know—based on your education in intergalactic species—there is no other race that compares to the Dromedians when it comes to alchemy and their ability to meld flavors and spices together. They are hideous to look at, but they make a great meal.”

“They’re not that hard on the eyes. I’ve grown accustomed to their looks,” Jocelyn found herself saying.

Immediately, Bulba Fyore’s demeanor soured.

“I didn’t ask what you thought of those reptiles, did I?” he snapped.

Jocelyn was quick to realize her mistake. She should have kept her mouth shut. It was clear that Bulba Fyore was a petty man who took great pride in his own opinions. As far as he was concerned, his word was law.

“I apologize; I spoke out of turn.”

“You will not disrespect me in my own home, especially seeing as how you’re nothing more than a…human.” He said it as if she were an insignificant insect. “Your race was obliterated by the Xaksu without even putting up a fight.”

“Yes Bulba.” Jocelyn was trying her best to sound agreeable.

“Overseer!” he spat. “When I am lecturing you, you will address me as the Overseer!”

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He was beginning to lose it.

Jocelyn eyed the butter knife once more and began brainstorming all the ways she could mount an attack with it. Aiming it at one of Bulba’s oversized eye balls seemed like a good place to start.

“Do you know why Gaia failed to defend itself against the Xaksu?” Bulba asked as he slammed the palms of his heavy hands down on the table. His forcefulness startled Jocelyn.

“No Overseer.”

“It was because humans are weak,” he sneered. “They are lesser beings. They always have been and always will be. Make no mistake, Jocelyn Dark, as a slave you are one of my best. But you are still a slave. You’re a mongrel who excels at performing simple tricks and it is because of this that I am offering you scraps off my table.”

Jocelyn did her best to hide both her fear and disdain for Bulba. She took a deep breath, swallowed her pride, and stared at her feet, like a little child being scolded.

“The Dromedians,” Bulba scoffed, “Are wretched, ugly creatures, but the Xaksu found a use for them. The alchemy they’ve mastered is a gift from the gods.”

Gods? Jocelyn thought. There were no gods. Otherwise monsters like Bulba wouldn’t exist.

The Overseer took a deep breath, leaned back in his floating throne, and reached for his cup of wine. He took a deep, long sip, and then let out a satisfying sigh.

“The wine is from the Dromedians, as well,” he said. His demeanor had reverted from pure rage back to a serene calm. “I insist, try some.”

“Yes, Overseer,” Jocelyn said as she rose from her seat and reached for the large pitcher at the center of the dining table.

“Please, call me Bulba.”

“Yes, Bulba.”

“Good.” He extended his wine glass out to her. “Fill mine up first.”

Jocelyn nodded as she picked up the heavy jug. It was full to the brim.

“Be careful not to spill a single drop,” Bulba said. His tone of voice was all seriousness. “That wine cost me a fortune. It has the value of one hundred of you slaves.”

A drone, which had been floating by Bulba’s side like a faithful dog, rose from its state of rest and hovered around Jocelyn’s head, fixing its deadly red eye on her.

“And believe me, if you spill a single drop there will be consequences.”

Jocelyn took care in tilting the jug. Despite her nervousness, she was able to keep a steady hand. Both Bulba and she watched as the red liquid flowed into the cup.

Once the glass was almost full, she pulled the jug back with a slight hand, cutting off the source of flow.

“There’s a drop running down the side of the jug,” Bulba pointed out.

Jocelyn saw it too, a single droplet trickling down the side of the decanter.

“Remember, not a single drop wasted.”

Instinctively, she held the base of the jug over his wine glass and watched as the drop slowly pooled against the edge of the decanter’s base.

“Not a damn drop,” he reiterated.

Shut up already.

The drop of wine fell and found its way into Bulba’s cup, dispersing itself amongst the pool of wine.

“Nicely done,” Bulba noted as he reached for his glass and took another deep drink from it.

Jocelyn let out a sigh of relief and placed the decanter onto the table.

“What about yourself?” Bulba asked.

“I’m fine, really,” Jocelyn said.

Bulba shook his head. “No, you’re not. I don’t wish to drink alone. Now, pick up your cup and pour yourself a drink.”

Jocelyn bit her lip. “I don’t want for you to waste any of this fine wine on someone as pathetic as I am.”

Bulba’s nostrils flared. “Pour, slave.” He put extra emphasis on the world ‘slave.’

Jocelyn nodded, picked up the jug once more and carefully positioned it over her own empty cup. She poured the red liquid into her glass with the same care she had when extracting the ore.

When she was done, Bulba smiled.

“The way you do things has such precision and care,” he said. “It’s commendable. It’s difficult for many lesser beings, with only one brain, to perform a task with such great concentration and delicacy.”

“Thank you, Bulba.”

“Believe it or not, these fat hands of mine used to be the best in the galaxy when it came to tasks requiring precision,” Bulba said as he raised his hands and wiggled his worm-like fingers.

Jocelyn chose not to believe it.

“But then I started enjoying the exotic foods of the galaxy far too much,” he chuckled. “But that’s fine. I choose to exercise my mind instead of my body. That’s how I’m able to control my little pets so easily.”

Jocelyn eyed the drones hovering around the table, constantly scanning its surroundings. She was having second thoughts regarding Jak’s plan.

Even if Bulba was asleep, would the drones feed information back to his brain? Surely he’d be able to see what she was doing.

Do you trust me? Jocelyn could hear Jaks’ words resonating inside her head.

She needed to have some faith in people and if not Jaks, then who else?

“You haven’t tasted your wine yet,” Bulba said.

Jocelyn picked up her cup and took a small of sip from it.

The taste was sweet, bold, and absolutely intoxicating. There was a hint of berries blending in with some nutty flavors. She wanted to drink all of it but refrained from doing so.

The last thing she needed was to be drunk. There was too much at stake for her to not be thinking clearly.

“Good, right?”

Jocelyn nodded. “It is,” she replied, honestly this time.

“The Dromedians are weak idiots, but I give them credit. When it comes to alchemy and mixing brews together, they are the best. Some of the beers they have…”

He ended his sentence there. Ten seconds of silence passed before Jocelyn realized that Bulba was asleep. He certainly didn’t look asleep, though.

His eyes and mouth were wide open, as if he was frozen in time during mid-speech.

Was this the opportunity Jocelyn was waiting for?

His sudden loud snores and the water welling in the corners of his eyes was the confirmation Jocelyn needed.

Move Jocelyn, move, she thought to herself.

She glanced at the drones, continuously patrolling the dining hall, their singular eye fixated on her. Like Bulba, Jocelyn froze in her place.

Coward, she thought to herself.

She glanced at Bulba once again. He had remained unmoved. His eyes were still wide open, though tears were now streaming down the side of his face. His mouth also sagged slightly, probably from the weight of his heavy jaw.

She was allowing a golden opportunity to slip away from her.

Jocelyn thought about living the rest of her expiring life on Behyru under the fat thumb of Bulba Fyore, enduring the daily grind until the second she died.

The alternative was living a happy life with Jaks, which was within her grasp. All she needed to do was get the sedative.

Happily ever after, she thought. She deserved one, didn’t she?

Jocelyn took a single step towards the clock.

“…Are to die for.” Bulba’s booming voice caught Jocelyn off guard, and immediately she felt her knees give out from under her. She collapsed into a seat.

“It seems I’ve startled you,” Bulba said.

“I…” Words were lost to her at the moment.

Bulba swallowed some more wine before he spoke. “I wish to say that I was perfect, but I am not. I have a tendency to black out sometimes, falling into a deep, unconscious sleep,”

“I…I didn’t know,” Jocelyn said.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Bulba said. “During morning speeches and routine inspections, I’m high off of stimulants to ensure I don’t fall asleep. A reasonable and intelligent person like you must realize that constantly taking stimulants does degrade my overall health.”

Jocelyn nodded.

Bulba rested his hands on his belly and let out a loud sigh that sounded more like a tiger’s roar. “I was told by one of my chief medical officers that if I continue taking stimulants at the rate I am, it will lead to permanent adverse effects on body. I could very well die.”

Good, Jocelyn couldn’t help but think. It wasn’t in her nature to wish death on anyone, but in the case of Bulba Fyore, she made an exception.

“Do you know why I’m offering you a position on Kymera?” he asked.

“I thought it was a reward for all the hard work I’ve done.”

Bulba chuckled. “That is certainly one of the reasons why,” he said. He was lying. “Another is because the resources on this planet have almost been exhausted. Another three months and we’d have mined every single drop of Erobium.”

Jocelyn was surprised. Does that mean they could finally leave this godforsaken planet?

“What happens then?” she asked.

“The guards and I will leave Behyru and head back to Kymera to await redeployment. Usually there is a resting period in between assignments of two human years.”

“What does that mean for us, the slaves?” Jocelyn asked.

“You will all be declared surplus,” Bulba replied. “Surplus leads to termination.”

Instinctively, Jocelyn’s hands curled into fists and her body began to tremble. “You’d murder us all?”

Bulba nodded. “It’s Xaksu policy.”

Anger welled up in the pit of Jocelyn’s belly like an oil fire.

“Now do you see why I want to redeploy you to Kymera?” Bulba asked. “You have a skill that is far too valuable to lose. On the day the Xaksunian’s come with their warships, they will open fire and kill everyone without thought or considerations. Even if I tried to save you then, it wouldn’t make a difference. They have a policy of all or none. In the case of surplus, it will be ‘all.’”

Jocelyn suddenly needed a drink. She grabbed the cup and swallowed a mouthful.

“I can see your anger,” Bulba said. “It’s scrawled all over that stupid human face of yours. You shouldn’t be angry.”

Jocelyn set her cup down. “How can you say that?” she asked, ignoring the fact that her sudden outburst could lead to a negative outcome.

“It’s just business,” Bulba answered plainly. “Business is all about math. If you do the math, it makes sense to terminate all those no longer useful.”

Jocelyn was still in disbelief. “Can you save more than just me?”

Bulba unleashed an unpleasant cackle, as if Jocelyn had just told the funniest joke this side of the galaxy. If he wasn’t so fat he’d be doubling over. When Bulba was finally finished with his laughing fit, he cast his wide eyes on Jocelyn and asked one simple question: “Why?”

Jocelyn didn’t hesitate in her answer, “To save lives.”

Bulba shook his head and wiped the tears of laughter away from his eyes. “There’s no benefit.”

“Why does there need to be a benefit to save lives?”

“Because that’s the way this universe operates. For every decision you make, there is both a cost and a benefit. The cost of saving other slaves far outweighs the benefits. There is no need to save them.”

“And what benefit do I bring?” Jocelyn asked. “I’m just a stupid human after all, aren’t I?”

“As I mentioned, the skill you possess is valuable,” Bulba replied.

“So you’d save me just so I’d be able to extract more Erobium ore?”

He shook his head. “Oh no, I have other plans for you. Go to Kymera and your days of extracting ore are finished.”

Jocelyn shrugged. “It makes no difference. I won’t be alive long enough to enjoy the change of scenery.”

Bulba leaned forward and smiled. “Ms. Jocelyn Dark, after all this time working for me, you must have realized by now that I am a fair employer. For example, I rewarded you with the gift of music, haven’t I?”

She couldn’t dispute him there.

“Go to Kymera and I can offer you your life.”

Jocelyn was taken aback. What did Bulba mean?

“Come to Kymera with me and I will leverage my network of contacts, stretching all across the galaxy, to find a cure for the poison.”

Jocelyn considered the offer for a moment.

“If I’m not helping you mine Erobium, then what benefit do I have to you?” she asked.

“I need your help in dealing with my little problem. Allow me to provide some more contexts,” he said. “I take pride in being a good businessman. Business is my life. I have aspirations to build and grow the largest import and export businesses this universe has ever seen. I certainly have built up the right contacts over the years and the capital to do it.”

“But your condition inhibits you,” Jocelyn said.

“Yes. These sleeping spells don’t exactly command respect,” Bulba sighed. “There is nothing more embarrassing and unprofessional than falling asleep during a business meeting. It’s one of the quickest ways to lose customers.” He leaned back in his floating throne and popped a fat, purple grape into his mouth. “Did you know that I produce double the resources than any other Overseer in the Xaksunian Empire?”

Jocelyn shook her head.

“Yet, I am always overlooked when it comes to promotions, all because of this blasted condition of mine.”

Jocelyn was starting to see the bigger picture. “You started taking stimulants to stay awake during important meetings.”

“Yes. I’ve been taking more than I should. As I mentioned before, I am pushing the limits of my body.”

“But you found a cure to this problem and you require my skills,” Jocelyn stated matter-of-factly.

Bulba nodded. “My guards have always said you were smart.” He finished off his cup of wine. Thankfully, he didn’t request for Jocelyn to pour him another. “Recently, I’ve been able to acquire a flower from Osiris, the planet of the beasts. This flower—the Alba Rose—has the capabilities to suppress the parts of my brain that cause my blackouts. I need the pollen from the Alba Rose extracted in order to develop a cure for my narcolepsy.”

“Why do I need to go to Kymera to do this extraction? I can do it here.”

“The Alba Rose requires a specific environment to survive. There are only two atmospheres in the Universe which can support the flower, the first being Osiris, of course. The second atmosphere is on Kymera, though its life span there is limited to three days. To make matters more difficult, extracting the pollen from this very rare flower is a task that requires patience and precision. If mishandled, the Alba Rose will disintegrate into nothing.”

“I see,” Jocelyn said.

“Yes, now you see. I need you Jocelyn,” Bulba said. “However, keep one thing in mind. Your skills are rare, but not that rare. If you turn down my offer, then so be it. We shall continue on with this lovely dinner and afterwards, you can wait for the day the Xaksu comes to annihilate everything on Behyru. But, if I discover that you’ve revealed my weakness to the other slaves, I’ll have you, and everyone whom you’ve whispered my secret to, tortured and hung out in the open on public display. Of course, the alternative is to come with me to Kymera and I’ll find you a cure. What is your choice?”

He smiled a wicked smile that stretched his thin eyes wide and displayed every one of his dagger-like teeth.

In the span of a couple of days, Jocelyn’s fate had suddenly changed. She went from having no hope of ever leaving this dismal planet to having two very different offers—one from someone whom she cared about, and the other from a monster who she despised.

The choice was simple.

If what Bulba was saying was true, death was coming to all the slaves on Behyru. Jocelyn couldn’t let this happen.

Tonight, not only were Jocelyn and Jaks going to escape but she intended to free all the other prisoners as well.

Jocelyn decided to feign interest. “I need time to consider your offer.”

Bulba didn’t respond. He continued smiling that terrible, wicked smile that sent chills through the base of Jocelyn’s spine and all the way up to the back of her skull.

“Bulba?” she repeated.

This time he did respond, by unleashing a loud, echoing snore that rattled the glasses on the table. He was asleep.

Now was her chance.

Jocelyn leapt out from her chair. Immediately, one of the drones darted over to her position. The aperture in its robotic eye opened causing Jocelyn to freeze in her place.

The drone made a high pitched buzzing noise, similar to the one she heard just before it was ready to open fire.

Maybe Jaks had it all wrong? Perhaps the drones had minds of their own after all and would carve her to pieces where she stood.

Jocelyn bit her lip and closed her eyes as the buzzing sound grew louder. She stood there for several seconds, anticipating for the worst outcome—the murder ball blasting her into ashes with its deadly laser.

But the laser of death never came.

Jocelyn opened one eye.

The drone continued hovering over her, constantly scanning. The aperture was now fully opened, its eye glowing red.

But it wasn’t attacking.

Jocelyn glanced over to Bulba who was still smiling and snoring. A single tear trickled down the side of his pale-colored cheeks.

She held her breath and took one cautious step towards the fireplace. Jocelyn eyed the stone clock where salvation came in the form of the hidden sedative.

She took another step towards the clock, and then another. With every step, the drone followed her like a shadow.

Jocelyn could smell the strange, vaporous chemical smell from the drone’s laser unit. It was unsettling.

When she finally reached the stone clock, she glanced over at Bulba. Had his eyes moved? She swore that he was still looking straight at her, despite her moving a few feet from where she originally stood. It was as if his eyes had followed her.

He snored.

No, he was still asleep, Jocelyn thought. Her mind was playing tricks on her due to the high tension of the situation.

The drone continued humming like a mockingbird flying around her head; only this bird was deadly.

Come on Jocelyn, we’re almost there, she thought to herself. Her hands trembled as she touched the stone clock. She willed her fingers to search the underside of it.

There was nothing there.

Jaks had failed her.