The other human woman hugs me awkwardly, surrounded by broken glass, spilled alcohol, and all the Silver servants trying desperately to clean up my mess quickly. “It’s okay. I’m so sorry,” she says. I notice she even has perfume on. Yes, clearly she is not a slave. I don’t even have moisturizer.

I pull back and get control of my emotions. I remind myself that I’m lucky to be here rather than on the farm and that it’s sad that I’ve not been as fortunate as she has, but I’m still lucky. Aren’t I? I wipe my face. “I’m sorry. I was so surprised to see you. I must get back to work.” It feels odd in my mouth to speak English, and I’m sure my face reflects my lack of confidence in my own language.

She tells me her name, says, “Let’s talk if we can find a minute,” and then moves on to help serve the officers.

I’m shocked that she uses her name, her given human name, and not her Volunteer number. I watch her across the kitchen. Apparently, she’s here to test her commander’s food before he eats it. I take my eyes off her when she turns back and feels me staring. I feel like such a fool. I go to the sink and wash my hands. I apologize to the head servant, who scolds me and tells me to return to my quarters. As I’m about to walk out, the human woman follows me into the corridor.

“Can I walk with you for a minute?”

“Yes,” I say. “But not too long. I don’t want to get into any more trouble.”

“I understand,” she says. “How long have you been here?”

I tell her about the farm and the Commander saving me.

“I’ve been here the same time, but I was first delivered to a brothel in the capital city. My commander was a client. He bought me and set me free. Now, I’m a servant on his ship.”

“It’s similar,” I say, feeling sorry for her. I was only made to work on a farm, but she must have had to endure far worse in a brothel in a big city.

“Excuse my imprudence, but why didn’t your Commander set you free? And why do you speak the Silver language?”

I open my mouth and then close it. After a second, I reply, “How can you communicate if you don’t speak their language?”

She points to her ear. “Everyone has a translator.”

I feel dizzy, and it takes me a second to reply, “What?”

“Every person on this ship has a translator. If you speak English to them, they understand.”

The corridor is spinning now. I’m going to pass out. I put my hand against the white wall to steady myself, but it’s not good. I hear the human woman calling out for someone to help. The darkness takes me.

* * *

I wake up in sickbay. I’m alone. I hear the hum of the medical machines and the doctors talking quietly. Everything the human woman said to me comes back in a rush, and I just can’t believe it is true. All I can think is that I’m such an idiot for trying to speak English and just assuming that no one could understand me because they couldn’t on the farm.