Bronsen and Cassy

Food was about to happen!

The timid woman who had volunteered information about how long the available food would last appeared to be the cook. She tended a big pot hanging over a wood fire built on the beach sand. There wasn't much in the way of food preparation; she merely poured varying amounts of powders and grains from a collection of bags into the pot and then waited for the water to boil.

Bronsen and Cassy decided to wait at the end of the queue.

They received their portions.

They looked at each other.

"Hmm, is this soup?" said Bronsen.

"Or porridge?" said Cassy.

It was mostly grey, with some splodges of colour. Some parts were lumpy and floated on top of the thin liquid that was the - soup? At least it smelt - adequate. Probably.

"And, young lady, we've been furiously cutting wood for the last half day; we need quite a bit more to keep us going," said Bronsen.

"But this is what I was told to give everybody," she said.

Cassy started muttering to herself. Bronsen saw this and hurried on "Yes, but remember, we have much higher physical stats than everyone else, and we've been working much higher, so it is only fair that we get more food," he said.

She scooped out the remanents for herself, then had no choice but to throw in some more powder and grains, add some water, and bring it to the boil again.

After a hard day's work, Cassy and Bronsen settled on a convenient log, enjoying a leisurely meal.

"I suppose it is edible," said Cassy.

"And, probably nutritious," said Bronsen.

They slowly and gingerly worked their way through the bowl.

"I suppose it is filling," said Cassy.

"I guess. Notice that nobody else seems all that enthusiastic about eating, either?"

As Bronsen said, all the others were sitting around in random locations, finishing their meal. There was almost no conversation or much social interaction of any type. As the others finished, they returned their bowls and spoons to the cooking area. After boiling some fresh water, the cook used it to wash and rinse the dishes.

"What if we try some fishing tomorrow?" said Cassy.

At this very point, just twenty metres from the shore, a colossal crocigator appeared in a massive water spray. It was gripping some sort of octopus in its jaws, almost as large as it was.

"Ahh," said Cassy.

"Fuck! That octopus is still alive and fighting!" said Bronsen.

The fight moved further offshore and lasted another ten minutes before the waters were (relatively) calmer. The waters were also redder.

"Say, Bronsen." said Cassy.

"Yes, Cassy?" said Bronsen.

"There are no shallow waters here, so I don't think the fishing skills Drayden and I picked up will work."

"Is that so?"

"So, I suppose we will have to survive off this, err, this concoction until we get home."

"No problems!"

Actually, there was a pressing problem: "Where's the toilets?" said Cassy.

She asked this to Frannie, who had chosen to sit near them as she ate her own concoction.

"On the shore, you just go off far enough and do it. On the boat, there are buckets with lids," said Frannie.

"Oh, uck. Doesn't it smell inside after a while?" said Cassy.

"It does, but what can we do about it?"

"Nevermind. And, what happens to the buckets?"

"The slave assigned that duty empties them over the side when needed."

"OK, I think we get the idea."

After dealing with that problem, there was another:

"Where do you all sleep?" said Bronsen.

He addressed this to the cook, who replied, "On the boat in our usual quarters."

"Say, what is your name?" said Cassy.

"Hestia," said the woman.

Bronsen waited for Hestia to say something more, but nothing. After a gap, Cassy asked a question.

"Perhaps we can sleep on the shore?"

"The few slaves that tried that disappeared overnight," said Hestia, "Big octos crawl out of the sea at that time."

“Cassy, that is very useful to know!” said Bronsen.

“Why, so it is!”

Bronsen thought of a good alternative.

"Where did the Blues sleep? Did they have their own accommodation?"

"In their own rooms."

"Right, that's where we're sleeping." said Bronsen, "So, if you could lead the way?"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

With some struggling, Hestia closed off the bags and started to carry them to the rope ladders going up the side of the boat. None of the other slaves made the slightest attempt at helping her. Cassy rolled her eyes and said.

"We'll carry the stuff, OK?"

Cassy and Bronsen, with casual strength, carried the bags up the ladders and into the hatch. It was dark inside, with an occasional porthole letting in some light. The hatch opened into a loading area. It was a double-height area; the floor was flat and must have had another area below it. The ceiling was curved and was obviously the top cover of the entire boat. Two bulkhead doors at floor level exited the area, one in either direction, giving access to the middle deck. Plus, two staircases were going up to what would be the equivalent of the top deck on an Earth sailing boat.

It was crowded, both with slaves moving around and with lots of stuff. There were cleats on floors and walls with boxes and bags lashed to them, coils of rope neatly stashed along one wall, plus a collection of poles and hooks and even two anchors, each bigger than Cassy or Bronsen.

Looking up at the top deck area revealed even more stuff. Crates and boxes, barrels, all securely tied down. Plus, the ends of rolled-up sails were visible, presumably the spares.

Ignoring this, Hestia led the way forward through the middle deck.

"This is where us Greys sleep," she said.

They were walking down through a series of open cabins, each connected to the next by a bulkhead and door. All the doors were currently open. Each cabin was divided horizontally into two by a mezzanine floor, all the better for packing the people in. There were no beds or hammocks, only thin mattresses covering the floor and a meagre collection of belongings per mattress.

"This is where the food stores are kept," she said.

She pointed to a hatch in the floor. Upon being lifted, it exposed another space below them. Its layout matched the sleeping area; however, there were no doors to the next or previous storage spaces. The walls of the space also noticeably tapered inwards towards the floor. It must have been close to the keel of the boat.

For the first time, they noticed that the walkway had hatches on the floors, giving access to each storage area. And the occasional hatch in the ceiling, accessing the top deck.

The Misfits deposited the bags where she indicated.

Hestia walked a bit more towards the bow before stopping.

"And this is where the Blues slept."

Instead of another open space area, there was a narrow corridor with a door on each side.

Hestia obviously decided that her duty to the Misfits was done, as she turned and walked back to her sleeping area without saying anything more, presumably intent on getting to her own sleeping mat. Many of the other slaves had the same idea; they were milling around and gradually settling in for the night.

Bronsen raised his eyebrows at Cassy.

"Shall we check out our five-star accommodation?"

"Certainly, my dear. We paid good money for this. It had better live up to the advertisement brochure!" said Cassy.

Bronsen opened the door.

"Notice how there is no lock, just a catch?" he said.

"Of course. After all, there is no way a Grey could pinch anything; it wouldn't be in their orders."

"Hmm, what if one Blue ordered a Grey to pinch something from another Blue?" said Bronsen.

"How would I know?" said Cassy.

She shrugged and stepped through the door.

Inside, there was an area big enough to sleep a dozen slaves. But there was only one mattress present.

"What luxury," said Bronsen, "His mattress is twice the thickness of the lower-level slaves!"

"But it's still on the floor. And, it stinks, just like all of the others."

Cassy picked it up with a thumb and finger-only grasp and tossed it outside the door. She did the same to the tatty blankets.

“We can clean up the mess outside tomorrow,” she said.

They looked at the other contents. Bags of stuff tied to hooks on the wall to prevent them from sliding around, several roughly constructed open boxes and an almost respectable-looking chest. One of the boxes contained a few tools, such as axes and saws, a sledgehammer and an anvil. Another box had ropes of different lengths and odds and ends. There were wooden sticks of various lengths lying on the floor against one wall.

"What a miserable existence. Even the servant quarters back at the castle have better contents and furniture than this. And there are only two little portholes to let the light in." said Bronsen.

"No matter how you look at it, the entire slaver system is an abomination," said Cassy.

"I'd say. And if I open this ever so upmarket chest, I find - eek!" said Bronsen.

The chest was full of slave collars - heaps and heaps of them.

"Oh bloody hell, do we have to sleep right next to these horrible things?" said Cassy, "Why don't we destroy the lot?"

"It's been a long day; perhaps we can defer that to tomorrow?"

Without asking permission, the day decided to get longer. A whole lot of shouting started outside.

They rushed back down the corridor to find a small battle in progress.

All the women were gathered in one of the sleeping areas. The woman in front was Frannie, who was currently beating up the ex-Red slave, as in literally. Every time he tried to attack, she either slapped him or punched him. Behind the ex-Red was a motley collection of about a dozen male slaves. With much cheering or jeering, they egged on the ex-Red but without doing anything to help him.

The rest of the slaves were spectating, appearing unwilling or capable of making the slightest effort to be on one side or another.

As the Misfits arrived, they heard Frannie: "No, you shits, without orders, us females have no desire to sex any of you little stinky creeps."

"It is part of your orders!" / "Just do as you're told!" / "The Blues say to lie down and take it!"

These were some of the taunts tossed back at Frannie.

Bronsen facepalmed.

“Oh fucking hell. What do we do about this...”

Then he saw Cassy with steam coming out of her ears.

“Oh ooh.”

High physical strength also implied high lung strength, which meant a pretty loud yell if one of the Misfits desired.

"Everyone, shut the fuck up!" said Cassy. Very loudly.

Everyone, except Cassy and Bronsen, flattened their ears against their heads and cowered down.

"There will be no rapes! Understood?" she said, striding up to and standing before the ex-Red.

Silence.

A shuffle of feet, then Hestia timidly said. "What's rape?"

Cassy stared at Hestia, completely flummoxed. All the other slaves looked equally bemused. And finally, Bronsen had an idea.

"Say, Cassy, how about we round up all the women and take them to our cabin..."

"Err, what?" said Cassy.

She looked highly dubious of this idea.

"Only for a few minutes! Nothing else! I'll explain when we get there." said Bronsen, getting in quickly before Cassy hit him with her tail.

So the Misfits, plus ten women, ended up in the cabin.

Cassy admires Bronsen:

What on Earth, I mean Ringworld, is Bronsen planning?

Just as well he is totally incapable of admiring any other females except me and Alice; otherwise, being packed into the same room with eleven females could be problematic.

Actually, they are all over thirty. I must ask him at some stage if he ever had a thing about older women.

Oh, shit, Cassy, stop wool-gathering. We need to deal with this.

With a big cheesy grin, he picked up the anvil from its box and put it on the floor. Grabbing the axe, he opened the chest and used it to fish out a slave collar. The collar went onto the anvil, and he gave the axe to Frannie.

"You know what to do, show the other ladies!" he said.

Frannie slowly worked out the implications, then smiled.

"This is a brilliant idea!"

A minute’s frenzied bashing destroyed the collar, and Franie had the agreeable task of allocating another 100 points to her physical stats. The other ladies un-flattened their ears (the axe strikes against the solid steel anvil were loud), and they all looked puzzled.

It took some persuasion, but eventually, there was a pile of coarse-looking sand from nineteen slave collars. Thus, each lady had a grand total of 200 system points, which, after careful consultation with Cassy, they had mainly allocated to their physical stats. However, some had various other abilities, like bonded implements and fireballs, which also received some extra points.

Bronsen is an excellent leader, after all!

Being handsome (at least to Alice and me) doesn't hurt, either!

Say, am I slightly obsessed about this matter...

The ladies went back outside and to their sleeping quarters. Some looked just a little keen at the prospect of trying out their newfound strengths.

The door closed.

Bronsen made a gesture with his hands, and a dim fireball appeared, hovering in mid-air. By now, the light from the portholes had disappeared entirely.

Now is the time to get up to certain things, just like we hoped to do in that club room so long ago and so very far away. Even if we have our libidos switched off.

Bronsen yawned.

Cassy spontaneously yawned as well.

Bronsen turned off his fireball, and both were sound asleep on the floor within a minute.

In perfect comfort, despite no mattress and no blankets, they cuddled up to each other and dreamed the night away.