Frannie, at the boat repair site:

Sometime the next day, Frannie and Hestia found themselves with nothing in particular to do, and they were somewhat away from everyone else. So, they decided to practice the newfound activity called socialisation.

"It's strange not having the continual compulsion to do whatever we've been ordered to do, isn't it?" said Hestia.

"Yes. It reminds me of my life before being captured," said Frannie.

"Do you think the Misfits will take us to the non-slaver country?"

"I suppose so."

"So, once we get there, we'll be put back to work as slaves, I suppose?"

"Ah, I don't know. Perhaps we can ask Cassy?"

Cassy:

She had been returning from a 'comfort' stop when Franie and Hestia waylaid her.

Hestia, in particular, looks serious; what is this about?

They asked her the same question.

"No, you will not be treated as slaves. That is not how the free nations work. But, I suppose it will be difficult fitting in - but we'll work out something, I'm sure!"

"Say, what were you made to do during most of your lives?"

"I was a breeder. I gave birth to four children and looked after them for three years each before they were taken away from me," said Frannie.

"Same as I, except I had five children," said Hestia.

"So, how did your children turn out?" said Cassy.

A blank look from both slaves.

"How would we know? They were taken away, and we never saw them again," said Hestia.

"But, can you trace them down, just to say hello?" said Cassy.

An even blanker look.

"How on the Ringworld would we do that? We are under constant orders, so we never have any time, and no records are kept, anyway," said Frannie.

I still haven't fully comprehended how completely soulless and lacking in humanity the slaver system is.

How do they keep on going without dropping dead from despair?

Let's leave that discussion to another day, shall we?

Feeling more depressed than before, Cassy continued back to the boat.

Narrator:

Alice and Drayden continued relaxing at their island holiday getaway for another five days.

During the same time, Cassy and Bronsen continued to push forward to complete the repairs. They did most of the heavy lifting, although Bronsen did his best to encourage the slaves as much as possible. Considering that neither of them knew the slightest thing about boats, Harold's input proved to be vital.

The slaves' attitude improved in small increments; Cassy and Bronsen had a few more entertainment sessions to lighten their mood. However, not very surprisingly, the slaves' social abilities remained abysmal. And the ex-Red's attitude never improved.

Bronsen, on the shore with a repaired boat:

Cassy and Bronsen stood back and admired their handiwork. In a mere seven days and a lot of frantic work, the hole in the side of the ship had been patched up. It was still clearly visible because the weathered boards of most of the ship sharply contrasted with the newly cut boards of the repair.

"The timber should be properly dried before use," said Harold, "But, I suppose this was the best we can do."

"It's fine! It's fine!" said Bronsen.

He looked at the situation. One boat, slightly above the ocean wave splash zone (there are no tides on Felixerra), lying parallel to the shore. It was sitting on its shallow keel and propped up by logs on either side to make it level.

"Exactly how do we get this thing back into the water?" he said.

"We very carefully lower it on the shoreside, allowing us to remove all the props. Then, drag and push the bow around into the water. After which, people on the boat and the sand push it out into the sea." said Harold.

Bronsen pictured the sequence in his head. The boat leaning over because its keel was propping it up to one side, so the masts are at a 40-degree angle to the ground. People pushing the boat out. The boat slowly grinding over the sand, then settling into the water as the last of the people stood in waist-high water, shoving on the stern of the boat...

"Wait a minute, doesn't that become dangerous for the remaining slaves pushing the boat at the end since they'll be in deepish water? Where the predators are," he said.

A grimace from Harold.

"Oh, we normally lose five to ten slaves each time we do that sort of thing."

Bronsen intercepted a hot glare from Cassy.

"Right. We intend to do it without any casualties whatsoever!" said Cassy.

"That is sort of what I expected you to would say. Is the normal non-slaver person always like you two?" said Harold.

"Er, mostly. However, it is very rare for anyone to fully max out their physical abilities. Nonetheless, they strive not to have any deaths in their normal day-to-day lives." said Cassy.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"So, how do you intend to do that?" said Harold.

"Well, we determine how many slaves are needed to do the dangerous part.

Then, we consult with Frannie and Hestia to lessen the chances of including violent types.

Then, feed them unused slave collars until they all have maxed out physical abilities.

Easy," said Bronsen.

Cassie:

Maybe not so easy?

"Hey, Bronsen," said Cassy.

"Yes?"

"Let's step away from the crowd and talk..."

"You realise this means that we will have a bunch of slaves equal to us in our physical abilities," said Cassy.

"Yeah. At the moment, we are kind of on the top of the power hierarchy, at least until a coloured slave arrives."

"So, who do we trust the most?" said Cassy.

"Frannie, I'm pretty sure. Almost as sure with Hestia. Harold, probably, but he is old and even with system-granted skills, he's showing his age. I suppose, some of the other women. And possibly one or two of the male workers on Harold's team. I guess?"

"Forget the males. We'll stick to two of the females. And us. Four in all. Compared to their previous efforts of using a dozen weak slaves, four maxed-out people should be plenty." said Cassy.

Bronsen agreed. Cassy dashed off, looking for Frannie and Hestia.

"Hey, Frannie, if we max out your stats, want to help me and Bronsen launch the ship?"

"Sure! Why, with maxed-out stats, it should be almost safe! Sort of."

Now find Hestia, and we're finished!

"Hey, Hestia. Do you want to help Bronsen and me launch the ship?"

"That's fine. I don't mind if I die."

"Ahh, what?"

"It's dangerous; about half of the Greys die doing that."

"Ah, but first, we max out your physical stats! Sorry, I forgot to say that part."

"Oh, well then, I suppose so."

Cassy stopped and considered this.

"Do you really have more enthusiasm for the option that might kill you?"

"Yes?"

"Ah, ah, but why?"

"Because... My mother brought me up together with my twin sister for our first twelve years. Then, my mother was sold to a breeding brothel, and we were sold to someone and ended up in the emperor's holding pen for breeders. And, well, one day, he took my sister. And then, I was ordered to take her body and toss it into the fishing ponds. And, so, well, I don't mind if I die."

Cassy was left with a hollowed-out, empty feeling in her stomach.

I... don't have anything, do I?

So she went with her default and hugged Hestia. Hestia stood there with a blank look, barely reacting.

That's right, the only people she would have ever hugged were her mother and sister. And, going by her apparent age, that was probably decades ago.

So Cassy released her hug. "Ah, sorry."

In a low voice, Hestia said, "That's fine. I think. You realise I have never told anybody that story since there was no one to tell it to. So, I think it's nice?"

"Anyway, let's go to our cabin and up your stats!"

Bronsen:

"Harold! We now have two extra people with fully maxed-out strengths. That should do to launch the boat?"

"Yes, that should do. We can do it now since the wind blows offshore, and plenty of daytime is left. Naturally, there is no way of launching the boat at night; too many predators about."

Let's get this boat moving!

He addressed the milling throng of slaves.

"First, we remove the props and lean the boat over!"

For this, strength was vital, so the four maxed-out individuals did most of the work.

"Now, Everybody not involved with launching the boat, get into it! All the sailors get to their stations and do whatever is needed to set the sails!"

Except for emergencies, the boat was entirely controlled by people inside.

To do this, there were a lot of ropes and pulleys.

Bronsen, upon consultation with Cassy, had considered various contingencies.

"Harold, can you and your team watch for disgruntled slaves trying to sabotage the launch?"

"And you women, can you hold the ropes and be ready to reel us in when needed?"

The other ends of these ropes were securely tied around each of the four.

They pushed the stern inland so the whole boat rotated and pointed outwards. It was no longer still for the first time since they had seen the boat. It was starting to rock from the action of the waves. So, now, all four pushed on the stern, lifting it slightly and shoving it forward. Their feet dug into the sand as the boat scraped and slid across the sand. It became easier as more of the boat moved into the water. Then, it became more challenging as they were in the water. Sails shifted as the sailors did their thing, and they caught the wind, and finally, the boat moved out all by itself.

"Get us up!" screamed Bronsen.

He might have been slightly perturbed by shadows moving under the water towards them from both sides. The slaves on the ship, attached firmly to the boat’s internal structure with safety ropes, pulled with all their newly acquired strength. The four on the other end of the ropes decided not to be lax and used their extreme strength to clamber up the ropes.

A tentacle broke out of the water and wrapped around Hestia's leg.

A thoroughly pissed-off Cassy, momentarily hanging on with one hand, flicked out her sword and sliced the tentacle off.

Freed of this burden, Hestia zoomed up her rope and managed to get to the open hatch before anyone else. But it was by a minuscule margin, as the others did their best to beat her.

Presumably, even if Hestia did have a death wish, she was unable to override her self-preservation instincts at the instance of being offered it.

A few seconds later, they were all inside, and the hatch was dogged closed.

It took somewhat more time for them to untangle themselves.

"Oh, bloody hell, isn't there a better way of doing all that?" said Bronsen.

"And, also, during all of that, did I see that ex-Red shit in here?" said Cassy.

I had better move fast.

He did move fast, leapt over, and had Cassy in a hug.

"What?" said Cassy.

"Let's first listen to what Harold has to say before doing anything?" said Bronsen.

"Ah, yeah. He, err, tried to close that hatch before you got in..." said Harold.

While he was saying that, he was slowly backing away from Cassy.

That stupid little shit. If he continues like that, I don't like his chances.

"Fine, fine." said Cassy, "But we shall see, won't we, Bronsen."

Bronsen nodded his head.

We are no longer innocent, naive teenagers, are we?

An hour after that, they were in their cabin. The floor now tilted to one side and was continually rocking; there was the sound of waves hitting the side of the boat and the sound of the wind whistling through the rigging. Joints and planks of the ship itself contributed their share to the noise with creaks and groans.

How well is this boat constructed, I wonder?

Of course, Cassy and Bronsen, with their maxed-out physical stats, did not feel the slightest discomfit from all of this. It was annoying to be tossed around, but after loosely tying themselves to a few attachment points, even this annoyance disappeared.

They looked at each other. They both knew there was a discussion which needed to be had. And, for once, amazingly, it wasn't about sex.

Let's get this going.

"That ex-Red git is a pain, correct?" said Bronsen.

"That's right."

"And we are in a closed environment, surrounded by a lot of danger-filled water, in a flimsy boat, with no escape. And, even when we get to Marmalade Island, we aren't safe since we are still smack bang in the middle of a huge slaver nation."

"That's right," said Cassy.

"And, of course, there is the little matter that we don't know if there are any higher-ranking slaves on Marmalade Island," said Bronsen.

"Yes."

"Well," said Bronsen as he took a deep breath, "Are we now capable of murder?"

Silence

"You lot have already committed murder," said Cassy.

"Granted, that was under the influence of the Ashrend effects," said Bronsen.

"And I was stabbed to death by Drayden as part of our agreement."

"I guess it didn't improve your temper?" said Bronsen.

Cassy flicked her hair and tail around to show her opinion of this statement.

"Let's stop pussy footing around this subject. Yes, I will murder that little shit if he gives me the slightest extra encouragement."

Bronsen shrugged his shoulders.

"Considering he is trying to murder us, then so be it," he said.

Cassy snuggled up to Bronsen and put her head on his shoulder.

"Would those four totally naive teenagers back in our clubroom like us as we are now?"

"Well, I guess they would have been impressed by our advances in our relationships."

"What about our loss of innocence? Not the sex part, that is. The part where we are capable of killing."

"I don't know. We have changed; those teenagers no longer exist," said Bronsen.

Silence

"Perhaps we can have a sleep now? Hopefully, that little shit allows us some time to think things over before he forces us to act," said Bronsen.