Ord Mantell was a galactic graveyard. The place where everything that had been rejected and ejected throughout the galaxy came to be dumped.
In fact, even the air stank of it.
Degradation.
Those of us working today on the top level of the dockyard felt the blunt force of its atmosphere.
You would think the sun would be among the things we would appreciate most.
That is what I had thought.
But it had been two hours now since the sun hit its peak, and I am telling you, I would have taken the cold dampness of the lower levels any day.
Halfway through we had to be given special masks to help us breathe in the dense, polluted air.
Not out of kindness, but because some of the slaves had begun to collapse.
There was just something in the air that probably prevented a first timer's body from absorbing oxygen normally. That is, if there was even much oxygen left in that air.
We had not gone outside Hato's compound, but even from inside here I could hear that we were surrounded by noisy neighborhoods.
Machines seemed to be the language that sang here.
Groans, screeches, hums, vibrations.
It messed with your mind and made the harsh surroundings feel ten times worse.
The work did not help us either.
Hato might call it cleaning, but the only cleaning being done here was by the people handling the crates and the smuggler's ship, The Bad.
The rest of us were involved in disengaging heavy mechanical parts and hauling them to the mechanics and engineers around the dock.
One engine alone could not be carried even by three men, let alone famished slaves who were fed energy bars, dried bread, and a bottle of rusty water.
Still, we were forced to carry them two people at a time.
I was lucky because my partner was the Devaronian.
Whatever else that guy was, he was a lifesaver when it came to brute strength.
When it came to motors, engines, and heavy parts, I would leave the bulky side to him and the guy would lift it as if it weighed nothing.
Actually, the only thing I was doing was placing my hands on whatever we were carrying and walking along.
I cannot say he did not notice, but he did not seem to mind because it probably felt like nothing to him.
I had hoped the entire day would go like that.
Unfortunately it did not.
Soon enough we were carrying smaller parts that were still heavy enough.
There was no room for two people to carry them and Everyone had to struggle with their own load.
That is when the beatings started.
People began collapsing and dropping parts. Every time it happened, a leash cracked through the air and somebody screamed before hitting the ground.
Before it was noon, I was sweating so much I could swear I had shed every drop of water I had drunk in my entire life.
The sun here felt twice as strong as what I was used to on Earth. I would not have been surprised if our blood had already started boiling.
Kindly enough, they gave us water breaks every two hours, though it was rationed water instead of the usual bottle.
We were also allowed to rest for thirty minutes at intervals.
Otherwise, despite all the beatings, we might have all collapsed.
It was during one of those thirty minute rest periods that the man I had noticed earlier appeared.
The thug with the patch over his left eye.
The assistant boss.
He came dragging two humans by their collars. When he reached Hato, he flung them forward and they collapsed on their bellies in front of him.
"A thief and an attempted deserter."
Hato looked at his assistant before slowly lowering his eyes to the two slaves.
Something in his expression changed.
I do not know how to explain it, but I could tell death was coming.
I felt pity for the two slaves because nobody would want to be in their position right now.
Like I had noticed earlier, there was something in Hato's eyes.
When he was angry, you could literally see murder in them.
"Who is the deserter and who is the thief?" he asked, pacing around the slaves.
The assistant kicked one of them in the ribs.
"This one used to steal little credits from the products sold. He has been trying his luck in the local casino. This time he went too far. He lost some of your pay and decided to win it back. Instead he lost everything."
Another kick landed and the man yelped.
Honestly, judging by their faces, they had already been beaten thoroughly before being brought here.
Hato grinned, though the smile never reached his eyes.
"This one is the deserter," the assistant said, stepping in front of the other slave, who looked too terrified to even scream.
"Up. Up you get," Hato said, almost gently as he pulled the deserter to his feet.
"How was he planning to do it?" he asked his assistant.
"Pay a slicer," the man replied. "Turns out the slicer was Tornado."
Hato laughed.
"What? Tornado? You tried to pay my own slicer to help you desert?"
The betrayal in the slave's eyes was obvious.
Apparently the slicer he had tried to bribe worked for Hato.
Slicers were an integral part of every smuggling operation. Almost everything in the underworld relied on them.
Overwriting transponders. Clearing ship logs. Illegal departures.
Most jobs in the criminal world needed a slicer.
So it only made sense that a successful smuggler like Hato would know several of them.
A slave should have known that.
Still, I could not judge the poor bastard. I was not in his position and I did not know the full story.
"Well, gather around. Gather around," Hato said, clapping his hands.
"This is as good an opportunity as any. I will show you what happens to those who cross me."
He took off his coat and tossed it to one of his men.
"Bring the rod. We will handle them. The thief first."
The so called rod was brought out.
It turned out to be a thick metal bar.
Even the way the enforcer carried it told you how heavy it was.
Another metal stool was brought as well.
This one had a metal plate with a slot where the head could be locked in place. The chest was restrained while the arms were stretched out and tied to the sides of the stool.
Hato took the rod and began dragging it across the square as he approached the slave.
The scraping sound echoed across the dockyard.
We had all been forced to drop our work and gather around.
Hato's eyes scanned across us one by one.
"I have been kind, have I not? None of you can fault me for that. You breathe, you walk, you drink, you eat, and you sleep all because of my kindness."
He paused.
"Some of you had no life. Actually all of you. Hato gave you life. Gave you a job. And in return he asked only honest labor."
"Honest."
He stopped right in front of the slave who was now struggling against his restraints.
"This man here was offered an upgrade from a dock rat like the rest of you."
"To a runner. An opportunity to clear his debt faster... If he chose not to accumulate more debt, of course."
"He enjoyed my kindness and my hospitality.. But he chose to rob the hand that fed him."
Suddenly the metal rod rose and fell like it weighed nothing.
The crack of bone came before I fully understood what had happened.
A shattering scream followed.
Blood sprayed across the pristine concrete we had just finished scrubbing.
Hato had shattered one of the arms that had been tied to the stool.
I could see bone pushing through the skin as blood pumped out in violent bursts.
Hato dragged the rod across the ground again as he walked slowly along the line of slaves.
"I hate thieves," he said.
Funny, I thought to myself.
Some people would say a smuggler was basically a thief.
"Thieves are bad for business. And anything that is bad for business is bad for Hato."
He returned to the slave.
The rod swung again.
The second arm snapped just like the first.
"But Hato is forgiving," he said. "Is he not? Is he not?"
He shouted the last part at us.
It was like the man had gone insane.
"He is," most of the slaves answered.
I noticed it was mostly the older slaves who spoke.
Hato turned to the rest of us who had remained silent.
"Is he not?" he repeated.
"He is."
This time the voices were louder.
"He is not," He growled, contradicting the answer he had just forced from us.
"I may be kind. I may be honest."
"But even for me, goodness has limits."
"And nobody can blame me if forgiveness is not my strongest trait."
The rod rose again.
This time it came down on the slave's head.
The man let out a dying yelp.
Blood burst from his nose and mouth but Hato did not stop.
Again and again the rod smashed into the slave's skull until the bone split open.
I saw something pale begin to seep through the crack.
I had to force myself to look away.
Most of us were looking away.
"Look at him!" the psycho screamed.
Every head that had turned snapped back in unison.
"This is the price for those who repay my kindness like this."
"Take him away."
The enforcers rushed forward and pulled the slave free from the metal restraints.
It was messy.
Blood smeared everywhere, but they dragged him away anyway.
"Now bring the deserter."