"boy", the master called from the lobby "be quick, this planet uses trains and your tardiness will not delay them!"
The voice was harsh. The master was strict. The master had filled his ample gut with food in the dining room of the Hotel. And now he was ready to leave.

This slave had been proud like him once, long ago. There had been a war. His brothers had died, his friends had died, lots of people had died. This stubby child that called him boy had not fought in the war. This stubby child's father had been Lord Brigadier Francis Guillaume Peter Windsor. And he had not fought in the war either, not really. He had been present in the near vicinity of the war and had been dunking fancy wafer biscuits in rare tea when this slave's family and friends had died.

That was a forgotten time now. Now he was just 'boy', or his slave-name; 'Gurd', if there was need to distinguish him from the other slaves. It was a derogatory name, it poked fun at his accent. Even after a decade of slavery, the distant regions of the Vuldrok Star Nation could not be stamped out of his Urthish speech. His master's tongue.

This slave was examining the belt shield that belonged to his master. He had noticed that the shield's ready light did not illuminate when the check light was pressed. He changed the fusion cell, but that did not correct the problem. So he had opened it up to see why. Apparently the previous fusion cell had leaked into the mechanism and caused some damage, a skilled technician would probably be able to repair it, but for today it was useless.
"boy", shouted the master again "I am ready to leave and you are ready to be beaten"
The young lady on the master's arm giggled. She had an irritating laugh, and was ignorant of everything except how to spend her fience's money. She was in fact siphoning off large portions of it daily without his knowledge. In this he felt that the pudgy master deserved the girl.

He descended the stairs carefully. He did not wish to be beaten for dropping the master and his mistresses things. The shield belt was on the top.
"Sweetie, is that a shield. May I wear it today?" the girl oggled the expensive item with a love she never showed her fience.
"Why you silly lump", the master said "this is a warrior's item of attire, it would look frightfully silly on a lady don't you agree?" he snorted at the thought. It may have been a laugh.
The boy clicked the check light, it illuminated to show a full charge. "But, of course you dumb lout." he addressed the slave, "you would not know of such things as this in your barbarian language. This is a shield belt, and this is how you check that it works." the master demonstrated pressing the button and the green light which came on. His expression was genuine, he actually thought the slave did not know how to use it. The slave however was puzzled, the device he had seen only a minute before was damaged and inoperative. The pudgy master then picked his sword from the teetering pile of items the slave had brought. This caused the decorative hunters ammunition purse to fall.
"Stupid boy", yelped the stumpy master "how can you be this useless?" the child master slapped the slave hard across the face. The slave held the items in balance, no more fell.
The boy looked disappointed. But the master's paramour urged him to gather his things quickly.

The trio exited the hotel and were joined by four plain clothed body guards. All veterans of the campaign which killed the slaves old life. They walked the corridor passed the viewing area. The slave saw for the first time just how vast the spaceport on this world was. A space big enough for four mountains fell away into the depths of the planet, and around the edge a million levels of window lined walkways just like the one he was walking along.
The group hurried to a vast technological interior room. This was the platform where the train would arrive. They entered a first class lounge. Here they met with the first of what he was sure would be many difficult pompous people.

The Vuldrok were a tall people. These Leaguer's were unusually small. This matre-dee small, like his fellows, but pompous like his master held the key to the first class lounge.
"Ahh, yes. Impressive is he not." explained the chubby master, in a so glad you asked, kind of tone "Stupid of course, like all of his barbarian kin, but he looks the part. My father captured him in the Vuldrok wars and he has been a faithful servant ever since."
The matre-dee bowed low in honour of the father. The slave barely noticed the slight to his race. He had no anger left these days. His old life was dead and so it did not matter any more.

The matre-dee returned with drinks, the lead soldier. A captain and a distant cousin began to question the reasons for the groups presence.
"Have you checked the shield my lord?", the captain asked
"Of, course man, do you think me some barbarian fool?" the boy snapped back irritated
"Very well my lord", the captain bowed his head, "forgive me, my love for you and your father is great."
the boy master relaxed at the compliment, "Of course you care for me, silly" he slapped the captains arm
the captain continued "This party you are attending, you know that it is a gathering of 'liberals', your father would not approve if he knew .."
"That is why we left behind a cleverly woven misdirection, Pater thinks we are on Byzantium Secundus." the master said, the girl sniggered and snuggled into his arm. She gave the captain a sly look however.
The slave said nothing, he stood and awaited instruction. Ignored. Still as stone.

The matre-dee arrived and escorted the group to the platform. He paid some bribe or other and soon the group were seated inside a luxurious carriage. The slave served the group drinks from the bar. The carriage conductor seemed grateful, and a little nervous. He managed to entertain the master and was rewarded with windsor coin. A technological wonder of the ancient times showed the battles of the evacuation of Lemenkainen a century earlier in a ghostlike apparition. Though the subject matter seemed a mix of the real, and footage of conversation spliced between it. Watching this account it would seem that the known-worlders thought the bombardment a necessary ploy to rid the planet of some demon worshipping cult he did not recognise.
"My those Vuldrok are fierce, just look at them slashing and cutting" the boy master said, and the penny dropped, the demon worshippers, with horns and tails, were supposed to be his people!

After disembarking, the group made their way through a crowded lobby. Huge even by comparison to the train station at the space-port. A constant flow of people bustled through the halls and out into a city. All around the dingy hall were ghostly images, some in colour, some only in green haze, and all were advertising some product. The slave noted that most of the advertisements were for 'sauces'. As he watched, he realised that a 'sauce' was a kind of food flavouring.

A trio of girls swept past. Their rush caused the podgy master to stumble.
"Captain, those girls just jostled my person!" he exclaimed with rising anger
The captain nodded at a single guard who gave chase, the slave noted that the chase was half hearted and when the girls entered the ladies toilet area he stopped and turned back. By that time of course the master had forgotten the incident.

As he passed out of the threshold of the station, the slave immediately noticed the advertising technology had increased in size. They had emerged into a town square thousands of metres across, through it ran a single street occupied exclusively by taxi vehicles, and a single navy blue limosine. A nice touch displaying the house colours the slave noted. The group climbed inside and the vehicle slowly meandered for about an hour through the city. After a distance of only a couple of miles it came to a halt.

They had arrived several levels above the city, on an open terrace. The group walked casually to meet with a large crowd of nobles on a carpeted area of the street. The taxi had deposited them several hundred metres away from a very exclusive party. They were inside a building, though the party included a hundred metre wide balcony which was bathed in a white-ish yellow light. 'fake-sun' the slave noted.

The master was greeted by friends of his. Mostly house Windsor, though a few were house Alecto. The group proceeded to drink and enjoy themselves. The slave hung back away from the balcony, he could see the road where other nobles were arriving, there was no door between the party and the road. He could hear from the music that there was a concert of some kind going on outside, but he could not see it. As if the organiser's had thought of that flatvid magic lantern screens decorated the walls inside the building. These were displaying several different artists simultaneously, the lave noted that the audible music was syncronised with the large screens, and that the people watching the small screens were wearing goggles and headphones. He also noted that quite a lot of the party goers were wearing goggles.

The party seemed to stop and there was a low key a polite clapping as a small group of strange individuals arrived from an elevator in the corner near the balcony. He could not hear their names, but they appeared to be the hosts. He ignored them and stayed well back, the guards stayed with him, leaving the captain, the lady and the master to enjoy the party unhindered. The walls were adorned with their opposite numbers, slaves, soldiers, bodyguards and the other servant rank members of the nobles in the room.

The master brought some people over to where the slave was standing. They gawped and prodded. To the slave this was the usual fair. Marvel at the physical prowess of the barbarian. Listen to the glorious tale of the master's father. The lazy man who sat in a chair, drinking tea and eating fancy wafer's while a hundred thousand servant rank troopers died on a hill, while a hundred thousand troopers died on a hill murdering his family and his friends. The parade hurt, it tugged at his old long dead honour, but he had grown numb to it.

Beneath his eyeline a man was talking to the master. He was explaining the merits of the charity organisation which was hosting the event. The master in turn revealed that he was here to meet with the musicians, he clearly wanted bragging rights rather than to listen to the music. The host assured the master that all of the musicians would visit the party through the evening. The host reminded the master that each was an opportunity to sponsor an act and that the best acts would receive great sums of sponsorship. To have one's own deeds placed in a song, he would need to be the highest value sponsor. He had no idea of worth really, money to him was an infinite quantity, but he did like bragging rights. The master loved this idea and pushed even further by offering a bribe to the host to ensure that the sponsorship values of certain bands were revealed to him before he bid.

An hour later and the master excitedly revealed his plan to his beak nosed lady. She snorted in derision and glared at him with seething hatred. This amused the slave, he let out a smirk. He could not help it. He held his breath in hope that it was unnoticed.

Another hour later, the master was out of sight on the balcony. The concert outside was audible, but even the canopy of light streamers and other signs was out of sight from the back of the room where the slave stood with the soldiers. Then suddenly there was scream. The crowd backed away. The captain's voice was heard "Assassin!" he shouted. This caused immediate and widespread panic. The soldier's all ran forward, towards the captain's voice. He was not asked to, but he followed.

They found the master lying dead, the wound in his chest clearly an exit wound, the master had been shot in the back. The captain was holding the lady, comforting her.
"I saw a flash over there" the captain advised the guards, pointing down the side of the vast sky scraper.
The search parameters were impossible, and were not helped by the misdirection. The slave knew as soon as the captain gave the order that the lady had conspired with the captain and killed his master.

He had lost all feeling. His honour had died the day he had arrived in the Lemenkainen system and was surrounded by a fleet of Windsor Battlecruisers. To fight then would have been pointless, so he ordered a surrender. He did not expect the executions that had followed, and to be the only survivor. He felt the spirits of his men glaring at him from the afterlife, he knew his fate would not be to join them. He knew there was no reason to fight. Not any more. They would catch him, and kill him. Then he would spend eternity being hunted like a dust-rat across the fields of evermore. He would be without rest, an animal doomed to pain and misery for all eternity.

And so here he was without feeling, faced with the death of his new life. His master lay bleeding on the floor, killed by the captain of his house guard for the love of a wasteful spendthrift. The slave slunk back into the crowd before he was noticed and crouched so his height did not draw the captain's attention.

He had seen the lift access earlier, and so he swiftly headed for it. The lift had a couple of people, he recognised the host. The group in the lift looked nervous, understandable if any had seen the shooting. He was used to staying out of the way and so he bowed his head humbly and avoided their gaze. The host who had been speaking with his master earlier said "I was right beside him, the pancreator be blessed. I can still hear it. 'clickclick, BANG!"
The slave realised this man had heard the drawing of a ratchet before the shot. Further confirmation that it was the captain, his weapon was that type, and he had misdirected the guards. The woman must have swapped the shield for the fake one while they were getting ready earlier. She was as guilty as the captain.

The group exited the lift inside a crowd of party revellers. This was his first real sight of where he was. There must have been a million people, maybe more. He ducked into the crowd, rather than follow the group of hosts. That group looked like they were heading for a members only section which was some distance away. They had identify badges around their necks, not that their clothing was subtle. He on the other hand was dressed to fade into the background. Simple cream trousers and smock.

He found himself a short while later in the crowd at the main stage area. He recognised it from the flatvid screens he had seen upstairs. He was getting hungry, food was not usually permitted until after his master had retired, but the smells of the people eating around him and his new found freedom were bringing on a hunger. That was when he realised he had no ticket for this party and no form of currency either. He decided that rather than eat refuse later, when it was rotten. He would take some now, while it would not poison him. So he started picking at the trash, subtlely. And occasionally picking, a soggy yellow stick which may have been inspired by a potato, from a carton while its owner was looking the other way.

It was surprising how many of these snack things he was able to take, and soon had eaten more than his alotted evening subsistence would allow him. For him these days, it was a feast. He decided to rest and enjoy the music in the centre of the crowd. If anyone was hunting him, he figured the middle of the crowd was about the safest he would ever be.

So he sat on the ground, behind the crowd. Behind him a huge steel frame spire wrapped in metal sheets to stop climbers. In the frame he could see lights and possibly projectors. He could not see any screens, or any of the stages. But he did not care. He was still holding his breath, in a metaphorical sense. Had he really just escaped a decade of slavery?

He thought about a plan for how to leave the party. If there were people checking tickets on the way out, he might be found out. He rehearsed a plan to accommodate that possibility, but he did not think it was going to be likely. Not with this crowd. There might be people on the gates while the party was in full swing to stop people without tickets though, he thought. So he elected to sit tight and do nothing. That meant he could think about the next stage of his escape, staying free. Here on this technologically amazing planet there was probably a decent chance he could survive as a vagrant, he'd prefer to somehow shift planets and work as a farmer or something. That was unlikely, and dangerous. Any space journey would risk his recapture by the Windsors. He doubted very much that he would be ignored. Their prized son was going to be missed, and without a real assassin they would probably find some reason to execute him. In fact his escape held an outside chance that the captain would eventually be found out. Provided he remained free, justice would eventually be paid. And if it wasn't, well who cares. The Windsor prized son was a prize jerk and deserved to be shot in the back by his fience's lover.

As he leaned back against the metal sheet, his hands found a large pink party hat. He picked a few other odds and ends up and soon had streamers and face paint hiding his features and his clothing was painted other bright colours. He picked up a couple of glo-sticks too. They gave off a little bit of neon light when 'cracked' and lasted several hours. As it was getting dark and he was facing a life as a tramp he thought they would be useful.