Sylvie wiped sweat from her brow. Had it been four weeks? Five weeks? She had lost count. Today, she and Shekira were scheduled to haul the wheelbarrows and load the carts, and the strange looking bulls would haul the minerals to the factory, which was about a mile away. This wasn't her first time and her muscles were becoming hardened to the labor and her pale skin sunburnt from the desert heat. When the sunburn healed, her light skin would be replaced with tan. Her delicate, dainty hands had become rough and calloused. She also had grown an inch taller from when she first arrived. The only way she could use her sewing talent was to patch up holes in her jumpsuit.

    Back in the mine, Sylvie had already filled her cart with precious minerals and was pushing it toward the pulley when she saw an older alien man trip and spill his cart. She noticed that one of the slavers had stuck out his foot, causing the weak man to trip and that same slaver was shouting at him, "Get up you clumsy slime!"

    The slaver brought out a whip and anger coursed through Sylvie's veins and her fist balled. Before she could stop herself, she shoved the slaver with all her might and sent him plummeting to the ground. Every eye turned toward her with looks of horror and pity. The raged slaver grabbed Sylvie by the throat and tossed her onto the dirt, with her back facing him, "You will pay scum!"

    She crouched down and tears streamed from her eyes as the whip ripped through her clothes and bit into her skin. Her screams of agony echoed through the mines. This process was repeated several times until there were seven stripes of blood along her neck, back and shoulders. Sylvie lie there, "Up on your feet maggot!" the slaver demanded and Sylvie stood in excruciating pain, dazed from the loss of blood and continued pushing her cart. The man she had saved from the flogging looked at her gratefully yet sorrowfully and advanced on his work.

    Luckily for Sylvie, it was bath night, unluckily, her jumpsuit had stuck to her wounds. As she gingerly peeled off her clothing, she shuttered as the wounds were reopened. Shekira bandaged the wounds as well as she could and insisted that Sylvie bathe first. A stinging pain shot down her back as she eased into the warm tub, causing her to curse between gritted teeth. When she left the tub, the water was a faint shade of red.

    The slavers had worked Sylvie harder since the day of the flogging and she was not at all ashamed for it. She was surprised to see the scaled man from the ride to the slave camp. He was a few yards from where she and Shekira worked. A random slaver was strolling down the rows of workers, as usual, until suddenly, he jumped at the slaver with a knife and rapidly stabbed the slaver until he was for sure dead. A look of horror crossed over her face as she saw green blood smeared all over the guard and the scaled man's hands.

    He took off toward the elevator and killed another slaver on the way. He only made as far as the elevator; when he touched the metal, there was a gunfire and the scaled slave lurched forward and fell face first onto the ground, smoke rising from his back.