“Should I have?” I stop with his clasps and look up.

“I suppose not,” he answers after a second, I think he’s trying to determine if I’m lying. “Do you know who brokered your volunteering?”

I shake my head. “The Water military came to my home, and I was told I had two days before leaving for the Home Planet. They put this mark on me,” I touch my left cheek, I still hate to look at my tattoo, the branding of my fate as a volunteer. “They took my picture and then left. I received very little information. Then we traveled here, and I was dropped at the farm.”

He gets to his knees and looks me in the eyes, “Do you know the Water person’s name responsible?”

“I don’t know anyone’s name who was involved.”

“This is important, Volunteer 4711; I need to know everything,” he says, looking at me intently.

“When we arrived on the Home Planet, the same AI that had piloted the ships drove the land vehicles. The only other people I saw before the farm were the people at the auction,” I can tell by his expression I’ve said something he likes as his eyes light up in a way I recognize when he’s pleased.

“What auction?”

“I’m not sure if it’s the correct word,” I say, not wanting to make a mistake.

“Just describe it to me,” he says.

“I was the last Water person in purple to be dropped off. The AI kept checking our cheeks with a scanner and dropping different women at different places. When it got to be my turn, I was taken to a stage, and a Silver male was there on the stage with me. I think he was selling me.”

“It’s important to tell me exactly what happened as you remember it. Every detail.”

I tell the Commander everything, and then he asks, “And were you wearing a purple veil the entire time?”

“No.”

“It was removed at the auction?”

“Yes.”

He smiles in the Silver way. “Good.”

“How’s that good? It was terrifying. I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

Then he strokes my long hair to comfort me, which surprises me. When he sees my expression, he removes his hand. I want to tell him not to, but I don’t.

“Not good for you, of course not. Good for our case. That male who messaged me says that he brokered the deal for your volunteering. He is trying to blackmail me to give you back to the farmers, well, actually the doctor. He technically brokered your volunteering.”

“Why would a male in the government care about me returning to that farm?”

“Many reasons,” the Commander says. “The important thing is that now I need to find witnesses that will talk.”

“I’m sure the farmer who bought me would talk if you gave him enough money,” I say. “Or the doctor in dead bodies.”

“Unfortunately, he’s making a fuss because someone has already given him money, among other things. But,” he says, seeing my worried face, “do not worry. I will not give you back.”