Cassy:

After receiving the news of Drayden and Alices' vows, Cassy and Bronsen kept on waiting in their cabin, sitting next to each other and holding hands.

There was a knock at the door, and Hestia's timid voice called out.

"The meal is ready."

What a difference from last night!

The milling mob of grey-collar slaves were noticeably more animated. Remarkably, some were clumping together in little social groups and talking to each other. The main topic of conversation was the forthcoming authentic meat stew and the battle between the Misfits and the crocigator. Only a few had seen this fight since most were sleeping or just waking up, which probably explained all the added embellishments.

After listening to the flow of conversation, Cassy turned to Bronsen.

"It all sounds so much more dramatic than I remember."

A smirk from Bronsen. "Yep, why I was positively heroic according to some versions going around."

"And, have you noticed, the stories concentrate on you, with barely a mention of me?" said Cassy.

"Yeah. I think the slaver society has some extreme misogynist tendencies."

"Hmph, I'd say. Since I contributed the same as you did to the fight."

"Say, let's just get our food, shall we? I know what you're capable of, and isn't that the important thing?" said Bronsen.

A little later.

Cassy burped. Bronsen patted his tummy.

"Yep, that's the way to go. I think that most of the others also think that."

Indeed, many, although not nearly all, of the slaves looked at least slightly contented after their meal. And, what's more, Hestia didn't show the slightest bit of struggle in getting the bags of powder and grains back up into the ship.

"Those points to her strength are making a difference, aren't they," said Bronsen.

"But, why did she have to bring most of that stuff out in the first place since it wasn't going to be used?" said Cassy.

"Who knows? Maybe she used some of it. Or maybe she was ordered to do so at some stage in the past, and she hasn't changed her routine yet?" said Bronsen.

"Anyway, I think now is the time to give out a little bit of chocolate," said Cassy.

"You mean bribe them," said Bronsen.

She mock glared at him, then made an announcement, and very soon had fifty slaves lined up, obediently waiting for their share.

Briefly, there was silence and a feeling of contentment.

After the great chocolate giveaway, the Misfits chased down Harold, the old man leading the team to fix the boat. They were keen to start another day to advance the work quickly. Only to find out that Harold had an idea of his own.

"You increased those women's strengths last night. I was wondering if you might like to do the same for my team; it could be beneficial since most of the work involves strength-related skills..."

Is he trying to increase his own abilities? Or is he trying to help the whole team? Or, probably a bit of both...

But there is no way I'm giving any potential rapists any extra strength!

"That could be a good idea, Harold. May we discuss this with ourselves first?" she said.

Bronsen took the hint, and they walked off, away from the seashore and any possible hungry predators, and up into the tree line.

"If we want to get to the others as soon as possible, then jacking up the abilities of the working team is a good idea," said Bronsen.

"But giving extra strength to potential rapists is a bad idea," said Cassy.

"Right. We ask Harold to select the group. Then we ask Frannie and Hestia if any of that group are trying to force themselves onto the ladies." said Bronsen.

"And I just realised there are no clear-cut answers here. I don't know what arrangements they had in place before when the Blues were running the show, and I'm not sure I want to know, but, ahh, I don't know..." said Cassy.

"Let's restrict our inquiries, and ask which Greys tried to force the women after the collars became inactive. That seems reasonable?"

"It's as good as we can get it. So, two collars each? We don't want to overdo it. Hey, that's an idea! All of those extra slave collars, we can use them to increase Eleanor's abilities and all the others!" said Cassy.

"Hey, yeah! And if we have enough collars, we can max them out! Considering there is supposed to be another showdown, that could be extremely useful!" said Bronsen.

And so it was done. Harold and his working crew used their newfound strengths to make significant inroads in repairing the hole in the side of the boat.

The Misfits discovered that there was no lunchtime meal. Only breakfast and the evening meal.

"Damn," said Cassy.

"At least there is still enough meat for another stew," said Bronsen.

Nobody present knew of any way of storing or preserving the meat, and since the temperatures were warm, fresh meat wouldn't last much longer.

Mid-afternoon, Cassy found herself on one side of the camp, sorting out some marine grade screws, while Bronsen was involved with a half dozen men manoeuvring the first replacement plank onto the side of the ship. Hestia, with Frannie following, approached Cassy.

"Cassy?"

"Yes"

"Ah, well, we, that is some of the women you gave extra points to last night, were wondering, well, you helped us tremendously in stopping unwanted attention from men, so, perhaps, with our extra strengths, we can help you in stopping any unwanted attention from Bronsen?"

Hestia looked even more timid than usual. And Frannie looked discomforted.

"I tried to tell Hestia that sometimes things are different in the non-slaver world, but - Hestia has been enslaved all her life. Only I can remember what it is like in a non-slaver country. So, I don't know..." said Frannie.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Cassy blinked her eyes. She opened her mouth and closed it, then closed her eyes again and tried to recall those conversations with Esther and Evereena.

That's right. Slavers, especially those born as slaves, have absolutely no concept of consensual sex. Or, for that matter, consensual anything. So, just like Evereena, they can only see sex as being against their will.

Hey, System-san, when do we get to destroy slavery?

There was no reply.

It's time to do my best, little though it may be.

"In fact, when we and Bronsen have, err, sex together, it is with my full consent. In other words, I want it. But so does he, OK? So, no, I don't need any help. Although I thank you for the consideration."

"Ah, fine. I still don't understand this consenting thing, but anyway, I'll go and start the evening meal," said Hestia, who scampered off as fast as possible.

Frannie, still looking uncomfortable, also drifted away, and Cassy continued sorting the screws.

Pity, despite all of that, there is still no screwing between Bronsen and me.

Cassy finished sorting out the screws into their different types and took one bucket of one type over to where Harold was. With Bronsen lending his strength to speed things up, the team had managed to cut and bend one of the fresh planks and attach it to the side of the boat. Wooden clamps were currently holding in it. Harold explained the next step.

"We need to drill holes, both for the screws and for the bolts, and attach them."

Bronsen looked puzzled. "Do you have drills and drill bits?"

"Certainly. One of Blues had them in his cabin; I think it's the cabin you are not using."

Cassy, not wanting to let Bronsen have all of the fun, hastily volunteered to get them. She zipped across the sand, leapt to the hatch without touching the rope ladder and disappeared into the ship. A few minutes later, she reappeared, carrying a box with the ends of a few tools visible at the top. Again, not bothering with the ladder, she merely jumped onto the sand. The box probably weighed half her weight, in other words, barely anything, so it didn't upset her balance or landing in any way.

However, it did appear to upset the ex-Red's feelings.

"Why have you been allowed to get so strong? That is wrong! Destroying slave collars is also wrong! Bronsen should allow me to get the extra points."

Stupid little puffed-up bully.

"Get lost, and don't bug me again," she said.

"No! I will take the tools. It is not for a woman to do a man's work."

Cassy stared at him in amazement.

Really? Really? How did he get to be so stereotypically sexist as that?

This is a totally enslaved society; everybody does whatever they are told to do.

Maybe it's the Blue's fault. By giving them some limited freedom, the slave emperor gained a more versatile workforce, but apparently at the cost of more extremist social and work structures.

Aww, forget it.

"I've got a boat to fix; just get lost, you creep!"

And she shoved him to one side. Possibly a bit too hard since he flew through the air and landed three metres away. Fortunately, the sand was still soft, and he didn't damage anything this time either.

She stomped over to Bronsen, holding the box of tools without the slightest effort.

I don't care if it hurts his fragile little male ego; I will still ignore him.

Say, wouldn't an enslaved person born and raised on a baby farm not have much chance to form an ego in the first place?

Pity Dr Freud wasn't around, I could ask him.

Bronsen:

Bronsen, along with every other slave in the vicinity, had been watching this little drama as it unfolded.

Maybe I need to have a little discussion tonight.

Anyway, he took the box and had a look at it.

Oh, bloody hell. Even the Manifestorians had better tools than this.

A drill appeared to be simply a drill bit welded onto a metal shaft, with a right-angle steel cross piece on the end. It had to be rotated by hand, all the time pushing it into the wood.

Bronsen looked at Harold.

"How long does it normally take to drill a hole through a plank and the underlying rib structure?"

"Well, about an hour or so. Also, wherever possible, we try to reuse the existing holes."

Bronsen looked at Cassy and lifted his brows.

"How about we get Harold to mark the required holes in the plank, and we have a little competition to see who can make their holes the fastest?"

I hope she doesn't realise I'm trying to get her to burn up some energy instead of venting it on innocent - err, not so innocent - Greys?

It was quite the spectacle. Eight holes in all, four for each of them. They got stuck into their little race with gutso. All those Greys in sight congregated around and, for once, showed some excitement. All female slaves cheered Cassy on, so most of the slaves in Harrold's team cheered Bronsen on. Other slaves just watched the entertainment. Possibly, it was the first entertainment many of them had ever seen.

The first hole was the slowest, and Bronsen won by a few seconds. They had taken only ten minutes, a vast improvement on Harold's pessimistic estimation. There was some timid clapping on Bronsen's cheer squad while Cassy's cheer squad gave a bit of encouragement to Cassy.

Ding! Carpentry sub-skill specialisation. [Drilling Holes] was given 30 points.

Much to the confusion of the audience, Cassy and Bronsen stopped their competition to give each other a high five.

"Right, Bronsen, now let's see who is the best!"

Alice and Drayden: Short interlude

"Look! We have a new skill!" said Alice.

"Drilling holes? What on Earth, I mean, on Ringworld, are they doing?"

A sly grin from Alice.

"Maybe they are getting up to something, you know, something involving holes..."

Drayden looked at Alice with a touch of wonder.

"You, of all people, is making that sort of joke?"

"Well, like you said, I have to get used to this shit."

Back to Bronsen and Cassy drilling holes:

Much to the audience's amazement, the second hole was completed in half the time again. By now, the cheer squads had worked out that if they were going to cheer, they needed to do it properly. Consequently, with much yelling and stamping of feet, they had egged the Misfits on to completion. This time, Cassy won.

Ding! Drilling holes increased to 55 points.

Ding! For getting grey-collar slaves motivated to enjoy something, anything, that isn't collar-compelled work, you get 20 points for your new ability called [Entertaining a Crowd].

Again, Cassy and Bronsen stopped and again high-fived each other.

"Come on, everybody, cheer on your favourite Misfit. Make it loud enough for the monsters in the deep to hear!" shouted Cassy.

They got stuck into the third hole. The drill bits spun in their hand like magic, almost too fast to see. The swarf curled out of the drill hole and away from the bit like a slow-motion fountain. The audience did not see the magic of System-san, but it dissipated the heat build-up at the cutting edges. That was very important, considering how fast the MIsfits turned them and how blunt the drill bits were.

By now, most of the slaves were caught up in the action. Most were cheering. Others watched with great interest, even if they didn't contribute to the noise level. The ex-Red and three of his followers did not appear to be all that enthused, but they still watched.

"And yes! Bronsen wins again, but only by five seconds!" said Bronsen, pumping his fist into the air.

"Rubbish, your side of the plank is a bit thinner than mine, giving you an unfair advantage. Girls, wouldn't you agree?" said Cassy, appealing directly to her cheer squad.

"Yes! Yes! Cassy should have won!" said Frannie.

Frannie positively radiated enjoyment. Even Hestia was getting enthused, and Harold was smiling broadly.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the fourth and last hole. Either we tie, or I win by a 3 to 1 margin. Let's go!" said Bronsen.

Grey slaves. Who lived a life of overbearing, utterly unavoidable, compelling orders. For once in their lives, they weren't forced to carry out endless, unrelenting, tedious, and unjoyful actions over and over again. But, being Greys, they were used to going with the flow, following everybody else's lead. So, when everyone around them appeared to go berserk with the cheering for a competition winner, every slave present went with the flow. It helped that Cassy and Bronsen were the closest things to ranking slaves. They couldn't quite order them around with the collar's power, but it was close enough considering their strength, power, and knowledge. Except for the ex-Red slave.

Consequently, the camp went wild, egging on their respective teams. Actually, most of the slaves didn't care who won; they were merely joining in on the fun.

The Misfits spun the handles of the drill bits with impossibly fast hand motions. Wood chips flew up and off, building little blast craters around each hole. Eventually:

"Yes! I win!" said Cassy.

Bronsen, two seconds behind, finished his hole. Then he and Cassy mocked up a victory and defeat speech.

"It was a fair fight!" said Bronsen.

"But the better team won!" said Cassy.

"Wasn't it a tie?" said Bronsen.

"Whatever!"

They bowed to each other.

The cheers died down, and everyone slowed down.

Oops, what do we do now? We had better bring this to a nice close.

"Now that I have lost the last one, let's celebrate Cassy's victory by packing up today's work and starting the cooking," he said.

Cassy rapidly joined in.

"And, of course, tonight it is more crocigator stew! Everybody's favourite!"

There were cheers at this.

"How about we have some volunteers to take all the tools back into the boat and to bring out the cooking stuff?" said Bronsen.

Some of the Greys did volunteer. After seeing everyone working toward the evening meal, the Misfits decided to retire to their cabin. They got Hestia to promise to fetch them when the meal was ready.

Alice and Drayden:

They had just realised they had a new skill - [Entertaining a Crowd].

"Now I'm totally confused," said Alice.

Drayden totally agreed.