“You have been found guilty of criminal activity, including but not limited to, piracy, forgery, blackmail, and fraud. Is there anything final you have to say for yourself, James Smith?"

An austere judge in black robes glared down at the human at his feet. The human slave was almost entirely naked, with just a loincloth and a pair of handcuffs to count as any sort of clothing. “I'm telling you, that's not my name," the human pleaded.

The judge smiled coldly. “You're right, it's not. Your name has been stripped from you, as well as all your previous possessions. You are no one now," he said. He peered for a moment at the paperwork in his hands. “In fact, your name is now just an ID code. 217754. It suits you."

“That's not it," the human begged. He tried to shuffle forward a little closer to the judge, but he was struck by the butt of a guard's gun. “It's Jacob. That's my name. It's Jacob. I didn't do any of the things you say I did. That wasn't me."

The judge didn't look down. He just snapped his fingers at some of the people behind Jacob, and the next thing the human knew, a hood was pulled down over his eyes. He howled and tried to struggle, but without his vision and with his hands bound behind his back, he was quickly overwhelmed with a knee to the chest. He fell down, wheezing, and allowed himself to be dragged away.

Jacob didn't know how far he was dragged. He stumbled after his captors without knowing where he was being taken. Though he shouted himself hoarse, no one responded to his protests. He didn't even know if any sound was escaping the hood over his head for all the response he got.

When the hood was finally removed, a gag was quickly applied to the human's mouth. He howled and tried to spit it out, but it was firmly attached around his cheeks. Without his hands, he certainly couldn't pull it out. A collar came next. It was a bulky, metallic device. The hinge was seared shut after it was attached, burning his flesh for a few moments and permanently locking the collar around his neck. He whimpered through the gag, but the humiliation was far from over. Mere moments after the collar was affixed, he was dragged forward again. This time it was to a bright stage in a dark room. He couldn't see anything, but he could hear. It was an auction, and he was the prize. His cheeks burned red in shame, and tears began to form in his eyes...

***

Jacob woke up with a jerk. It had been years since he had dreamed of that day. He didn't know what had brought it on so suddenly, but he didn't have time to think about it. He sat up and brushed off some of the hay that had stuck to his body in his sleep, and then slowly rose to his feet. All around him, his fellow slaves were doing much the same. Those with fur struggled a bit more to clean their fur from hay compared to those with skin or scales, but it was either sleep on the hay bundles provided, or on the stone floor.

The human slave stretched his arms above his head, clasping together his fingers as he felt his back crack a couple of times. His hands felt rubbery, thanks to the gloves he was always forced to wear. They were bound and locked to his wrists, one of the few articles of clothing he was ever permitted to wear. The loincloth was the only other thing. Collar too, if that counted as clothing.

Jacob pushed past a few of the other slaves, who he only knew as their numbers. None of them had kept their former names, and had accepted the numbers assigned to them by their masters. Few of them disputed their status, like Jacob did.

Outside the small hut that was the bedding place for the slaves, was the sun-blasted desert. Jacob didn't even know what planet they were on, with the sprawling empire spreading across many star systems. He knew he had to be in one of the smaller, less-established systems, well away from the galactic core and the hub of the empire.

Next to the bedding tent was another simple structure. Another tent, it served as the canteen for the slaves before and after their shifts in the baking sun. Jacob ducked his head inside. Jacob knew that in similar canteens across the empire, there would be tables and chairs provided for people to sit on whilst eating. No such luxuries for slaves in the outer reaches. There was only one chair in the tent, and that was reserved for Auntie.

Auntie was the only slave other than Jacob who didn't use her identification number as her name. She was called Auntie because she was at least twenty years older than anyone else, and had been on their godforsaken planet longer than anyone else. She was, by all accounts, too old to still work as a slave, but she had found herself a use in maintaining the canteen for the other slaves. It had been a rare mercy from their owners to keep Auntie on.

Jacob tried to put on his best smile as he approached Auntie. He was one of the first slaves in for breakfast that morning, and he hoped to get her in a good mood before she was worn down by the long day. “Morning, Auntie. You're looking wonderful today," Jacob said brightly.

He was met by a withering stare from the old woman. As he always did. He was given one bland nutri-bar for breakfast. As he always was. One day, he hoped his charm offensive might work, and he might be given two nutri-bars for a single meal. As it was, he retreated to his usual corner of the canteen and sat down on the floor to eat.

The nutri-bars were bland, almost entirely tasteless. Within them, they contained just enough vitamins and nutrients to survive for the day, but did little to sate the hunger that almost constantly gripped Jacob's stomach. The food sustained him, but it didn't satisfy him.

When he had finished eating, Jacob stared down at his hands for a few moments. He was tempted to tug on the wristbands that held his gloves in place, but he didn't make that same mistake again. On one previous occasion he had tried to remove the gloves, but they had resisted his movement. The rubbery webbing between his digits had expanded to engulf his fingers in a thick mass of immovable rubber. It had left his hands entirely useless, but his master had still forced a full day of work out of him before the gloves were reverted back to the idle form. Any action that was not authorised triggered the response from his gloves. Jacob had once seen a slave lunge for a master's weapon, to meet the same fate. Followed by a very public, brutal display from the master why such behaviour was not wise.

The canteen had filled completely while Jacob had been lost in his musings. There was barely any room to move as everyone clustered in close to enjoy their breakfast. Or at least, experience their breakfast. There was little enjoyment to be had from them.

Jacob was one of the first to rise to his feet. Not because he was eager to get to work, but because there was little point lingering. There was no conversation between anyone in the canteen. The only sound was that of mouths chewing on the tasteless nutri-bars, and the occasional quiet grumble about a sore back or hurting shoulder. Then it was out to work.

The empire had the technology to make the back-breaking work the slaves were forced to endure almost redundant. That cost too much money though, and the empire simply couldn't countenance such costs when slaves could perform the labour without any technology for free. Sure, it took longer, but that was something the empire was willing to endure.

A single human stood not far from the canteen and bedding tent. He carried a scanner and a holographic projector, and wore a constant scowl. Jacob knew the man well, though he didn't know his name. He was the master of the slaves, the one who ensured they worked hard and long, and punished those who faltered. He did not tolerate slacking off.

As Jacob approached the taskmaster, the human master scanned the tattoo etched into the slave's neck. Each slave had such a marker, which provided their owners information like their health and history. It also allowed the taskmaster to scan off each slave every day, making sure they were all working.

“Material transportation today," the taskmaster grunted.

Jacob kept his head bowed low. He knew better than to speak back to the taskmaster. He still wore the scars across his back from the taskmaster's lash after the last time. He knew where to go. He was almost always assigned to transport material between the different sites. It was not an easy job, but at least he usually had someone to talk to; if his partner for the day was willing to talk.

The terrain around the small tents was mostly desert. The sun was harsh and fierce overhead, with little shade provided for the slaves. It was a terrible place to work, but eventually it would become a fabulous resort planet for the rich and elite of the empire. They wouldn't care how many slaves had died so they could enjoy a sun-drenched paradise.

It was a long walk across to one of the two sites. One was a resource gathering and preparation facility, while the second was the actual construction yard where the resort was to be placed. There was an ocean by the resort, but none of the slaves were permitted near the cooling surf, no matter how hot the day got. Jacob was to start work away from the ocean, at the workshops and mines.

A small trickle of workers followed not far behind him. Most of them would be working in the mines or workshops, but as Jacob glanced back, he wondered who would be transporting all the goods with him. He didn't recognise anyone who usually did the work with him. Despite the fact that there wasn't any human masters to watch over them, none of the slaves attempted to run for it on the way to the worksites. There wasn't any point. They were so far from the nearest settlement that they would be dead long before they made it. On three occasions since Jacob had been there, one of the masters had thrown in the desiccated corpse of an attempted runaway. Fear and futility kept the slaves in line.

Four wagons waited outside the workshops. Two were already half-full with the last of the previous day's production. As the slaves filtered past into the workshops, Jacob waited by one of the two partially filled wagons. He would remain where he was until it was completely full. The taskmasters hated a slave lounging around, but even more, they hated a wagon only half-full as it was being transported.

The slave to join him was a reptilian. He was one of the new slaves who had only recently arrived, and his scales were still smooth and unscarred from the whips of their masters. The reptile nodded to Jacob as he hitched himself up to the spare wagon. The harness buckled into place around the hips and shoulders of the packslave. Jacob often waited until the last moment to strap himself in, as the straps often irritated his sun-reddened skin.

“I'm Jacob," the human said, extending his hand out to the reptile once he had finished securing himself in the harness.

The reptile cautiously held his hand out to grasp the human's. His scales were surprisingly warm, despite his cold-blooded nature. “Sszyl'nisth," he replied. He glanced around nervously. “No one else here uses their name. Are you new too?"

Jacob shook his head. “Nah, not new. I'm just... keeping my name, in case they ever realise it was a mistake me being sent here," he replied, keeping his voice low so none of the other slaves overheard him. He wasn't sure why he was trusting the reptilian, but he seemed to be the sort of person who wouldn't go straight to the taskmaster with any possible dissent.

“Isn't that all of us?" the reptilian replied with a grimace. “None of us really believe we are meant to be here."

“Not quite like that though. I was set up, I'm sure of it," Jacob replied with a quick shake of his head. He looked across to the workshops. No one had come out of them yet with the first of the day's supplies. “They charged me with all sorts of false accusations. Someone wanted me out of the way, and no one would question a slave."

“That's rough," Sszyl'nisth replied. “Is there anything you can do about it?"

Jacob shrugged his shoulders. “Hope they realised they made a mistake and that I'm not meant to be here? Keeping my name is about the only way I can stay sane and keep up hope."

“How long have you been here?"

Jacob had to stop and think about that question for a moment. “Eight years? Nine?"

“At least they haven't killed you yet," the reptilian said with a snort of dark amusement.

“Yeah, there's that," Jacob muttered, before being forced to fall into silence as a few other slaves approached to start filling their carts. The human could feel the cart settle down more on its axle as they filled it up. It was already immensely heavy, but they weren't quite finished yet. Stone, brick, and metal made up most of the cargo, but there was also some cement and tools amongst the goods that would help make the slaves constructing the resort do their jobs that little bit easier. They didn't have access to all the latest technology, but the empire wasn't cruel enough to limit them to just their hands.

Once the carts were finished, Jacob and the reptilian slowly started to move forward. A couple of slaves helped them start by pushing on the back of the heavy carts. Once momentum started, Jacob found it easier to keep moving. His shoulders and back strained as he leaned forward to walk forward, but they were well used to the exertion. Behind him, he knew the remaining two carts would now start to be filled, ready for them to transport the moment they returned. Everything was a perfectly well-oiled machine, leaving the slaves with no reason to stand back and slack off.

Though Jacob would have been happy to talk to his companion on the walk back across the desert road, he wasn't capable of speech as he pulled the heavy cart. Every muscle was strained to pull it along, and he was sweating profusely even after a few dozen slow paces. The reptilian was likewise struggling. He wasn't used to the sheer demands of the work, and he almost slipped over several times, but was always able to regain his feet and keep moving on. If he hadn't been able to keep going, then there wouldn't have been anything Jacob could do to help, and the reptilian would have been forced to suffer the wrath of the taskmasters.

Thankfully, they were both able to make the long, arduous journey across to the worksite. Normally it would only take about ten minutes to walk, but with the carts behind them it was closer to half an hour.

The ocean was the first thing Jacob noticed. He never failed to recognise that scent. Fresh and salty, it reminded him of freedom. It always remained tantalisingly out of reach though. The resort soon came into view beyond a low crest. It wasn't anything impressive yet, but day-by-day it was becoming the spire of decadence it would eventually be. It was a massive, sprawling resort covering several miles of empty desert, with one massive hotel in the very middle. A new shuttle station was being built close by as well, so the rich and elite guests didn't have to travel far to enjoy their slave-built holiday.

Four slaves were waiting for them at the drop-off point. They quickly set to unloading the carts while Jacob and Sszyl'nisth got to enjoy a meagre reward of water to drink. It was barely enough to wet his parched throat, but Jacob didn't complain about the portion. It was more than most slaves got to enjoy through the entire day. They were only able to access the little bottles by scanning their barcode tattoos in the dispenser, or else it would have been denied them.

Jacob knew to remain quiet as he slowly drank his small supply of water. The other slaves were all silent, and he didn't want to be the first to speak. Taskmasters kept a firm eye over everyone closer to the resort, and he didn't want to endure their lashes when he still had so many journeys back and forth with the cart to go.

With their carts almost empty, but for a few broken tools and equipment that needed repairing, Jacob and Sszyl'nisth started to make their way back to the workshops. Even without the weight of their cargo, the going was still tough. The carts themselves were heavy, and they still had to be careful as they took the winding road through the sands. This time though, they had more chance to talk.

“You have to leave anyone behind?" Jacob asked.

The reptilian bowed his head as he hauled the empty cart. At first, the human thought he had been wrong to ask the question, but then Sszyl'nisth shook his head. “No one, no. Not anymore. My tribe will be scattered across the galaxy now. What about you?"

Jacob wished he hadn't asked. The thought of the reptilian's tribe being torn apart like that was abhorrent, and he felt like he troubles were almost nothing insignificance. Here he was, one human unjustly treated, when Sszyl'nisth and his entire tribe had been displaced. The human shook his head. “Not now, no. They'd have moved on and thought I did all those things I was accused of. I wasn't married, but I probably would have been by now."

“Sorry to hear," Sszyl'nisth said. He reached his hand out, but they were too far apart to touch, and the size of the carts behind them made contact impossible, but Jacob appreciated and mimicked the gesture.

“It sucks, but what can we do?" Jacob said. He winced as his cart bounced over a divot in the road, which wrenched his shoulder. He kept moving though. Stopping would be so much worse, even with the lighter load.

“Just keep building whatever shit our owners want, and hope for a decent pension fund?" Sszyl'nisth said, with a hissing laugh. Jacob had to join in at the sheer absurdity of the thought. He knew there was nothing for him beyond a slave's life, unless he was somehow able to prove his innocence, but he doubted even that would help matters much. He would live a slave, and he would die one too. Alone and forgotten, but for those few friendships he was able to forge in arduous circumstances.

“We'll probably have this resort finished in a couple of years, at this rate," Jacob said bitterly. He glanced up towards the fierce sun, shielding his eyes with one hand. “Some of us might even be lucky enough to stay behind and work here. You and I though? We're the strong ones. They'll want to keep us working mines or transport. We won't get an easy job like serving rich folk until we're too crippled to pull anything heavy."

Sszyl'nisth laughed again, his tongue flicking out from his mouth as he did so. “Think we'd get something better to wear then?" he asked, plucking at the small loincloth around his crotch. “They don't exactly preserve our modesty too well, do they?"

“I've been asking for that for years. Even something to protect my shoulders from the sun, but nothing happened," Jacob grumbled. His shoulders ached, not only from the strenuous work he was forced to do every day, but also from the blistered skin after being in the bright sun. He had tanned significantly in his years on the job, but he was frequently burned red. He looked across to the reptilian with a little envy. “At least your scales are better in the heat."

Sszyl'nisth grimaced. “I'd hate to think how the furred folk do it. Must be agony out here for them."

Jacob nodded and looked ahead. They weren't far from the workshops, so he knew his conversation with the reptilian was about to die down again. He could see one of the taskmasters ahead, keeping an eye on the productivity of the workers. He would be timing their return as well, making sure they were keeping on schedule. None of the slaves were given timepieces, so Jacob never knew how accurate his internal clock was, but he had been measuring his paces, even while talking to Sszyl'nisth. He knew they were on time, though the taskmaster still glared at them as they silently trudged past.

For a few brief moments, Jacob was able to unhitch himself from the cart. The few damaged supplies were removed by a couple of other slaves, but there was to be no rest for Jacob or Sszyl'nisth. They moved straight towards the second pair of carts, which had been filled to the brim with more stone and metal. Under the watchful eye of the taskmaster, Jacob secured himself to the new load. With a push from a couple of slaves, he got himself moving again. Once more, his shoulders and back hurt from the strain of getting going, but he always found that once moving, things weren't so bad. Or he was just better able to ignore the pain.

Sszyl'nisth was just behind him, and the reptilian even managed to push that little bit harder to walk alongside the human. The reptilian's tongue hung from his mouth as he panted. “Just... twelve more... laps..."

Jacob would have laughed again if his throat wasn't already burning from the exertion. “For today," he managed to choke out. They would have to do the same the next day. And the day after that. And the one after that. There would be no end to the painful, dirty work they had to endure. A small nutri-bar and a bed of scratchy hay would be their reward.

But for the hope of getting a second nutri-bar from Auntie, it would be the only reward Jacob could expect. He sighed and held his hands to the straps that bound him to the cart. He was just another slave. Whether he deserved to be one or not didn't matter. He brushed the sweat from his eyes and dragged his cart forward. It was all he could do.