I am in conversation when my first officer comes back and asks for a quick word. I excuse myself, “There is another Water person in their crew. Volunteer 4711 dropped a tray full of glasses when she saw her. That was the cause.”

I nod and dismiss my first officer. I assume Volunteer 4711 was just surprised, as it has been over a year, possibly even two years since she has seen someone of her own species.

CHAPTER 15

VOLUNTEER 4711

The other pirate fleet is with us now, and their officers are on our ship at my Commander’s invitation. I’ve got a new uniform to wear that, instead of being loose, is very fitted. It’s still black, but for the first time since I have come to live with the Silvers, I’m wearing something that hugs my curves. And with my self-defense training, my body is in great shape. I was even late to my post because I took extra time to braid my long brown hair tonight, as for the first time in a long time, I liked what I saw in the mirror. All except for the tattoo on my left cheek that brands me a volunteer. Most days, I avoid my reflection because of it, but this uniform makes me feel better. It shows I am a valued member of this crew.

I enter the officers’ lounge, where cocktails are being served. I make eye contact with the Commander as I enter. I think he’s worried I will make a mistake. I’m the only alien here, and he mentioned before that he doesn’t know what the other fleet will think of having a Water person onboard. So, I will be extra vigilant with my duties and articulating the Silver language.

I’m given a tray full of glasses filled with alcohol to offer to the guests. It’s heavy, but I can manage. I turn to walk out and feel like I’m seeing a ghost. It looks like another human is walking in with similar clothes to mine but in red, the other fleet’s colors. She smiles at me. “I heard there was a human onboard.”

I’m shocked at the sound of English, and in combination with the sight of her, I drop the full tray of glasses. Everyone around me starts freaking out. I know why; those in the other room could’ve easily thought this was the start of an attack. I can’t help it, though. I look at the woman. She has long blonde hair that looks like it has been styled professionally, and she’s wearing jewelry and makeup.

“I’m sorry,” she says, bending down to help me pick up some of the broken glass with the other servants.

I say nothing but look up at her face, and our eyes meet. I touch her left cheek.

“Oh, I had that removed,” she tells me. “My commander said I was no longer a slave. You, I guess, are not so lucky.”

I can hear officers from both crews coming in to investigate what’s happened, and I feel guilty for dropping the tray. I can’t believe I did that. My mind is on overdrive at the woman’s words, though; if she’s no longer a slave by having that tattoo removed, then what am I? All I can think about are my Commander’s words telling me that he would never sell me. I can’t help it now; tears begin rolling down my face. I try to wipe them away, but I can’t. Am I a slave?