Alex has been running for a long time and is at the limit of his endurance. He stumbles on as his legs feel heavy, his body drained and his mind spent. A man in front of him stumbles and then a guard shouts. “Pick up those feet you filth. You don’t stop until I tell you.” Alex gazes around at the others and witnesses one of the human's collapse, pulling another man with him. The same guard yells. “Everyone stop.” They all come to a shuddering halt with many bent over trying to avoid falling to the ground.

The guards start shouting for them to stand and they herd everyone towards a three-story building that has a flat roof, off in the distance. After half an hour they arrive and are told to enter through a large double door. Inside,Alex sees a large central atrium that stretches to the roof. On one side there is a series of small plain cells and on the other side, there are large rooms fitted with hanging ropes, mats, weights, and other apparatus designed to build strength.

As everyone mills around and Alex moves over to a water nozzle taking a drink, then he moves away and leans against the wall, watching others. After a few minutes, a guard approaches and waves his baton at the entrance of the largest weight room. Alex stands stiffly and walks into the room indicated. As he enters, he notices Drosz is standing in front of the overseer who is sitting on a seat in the center of a raised platform. The overseer turns to look over, then points at an apparatus directly in front of him. “Boy, you are going to be doing some weight training. Get over here and onto that apparatus.”

Alex walks over to the machine and one of the guards follows. It looks similar to a squat weight machine, but with no weights visible. The guard turns and indicates for Alex to stand underneath the bar, then the guard touches a device he is holding, and the bar settles on his shoulders then states. “The bar will increase in weight every time you do a squat. If you take more than five seconds your collar will activate, each time that happens the pain level will be increased.”

Alex spends the next few hours being put through various machines and routines at the instruction of the overseer before he is finally put on the bench press.

"More," said the overseer leaning forward in his chair, gaze locked. "Add another three kilos," and the guard adjusts a device he’s holding. Alex feels the sweat trickle down the side of his face as he strains to hold the bar up. Both arms extend over his head, knuckles white, muscles standing out on arms, back, and shoulders as he fights the downward pressure. If he yields the bar will snap down, stopping above his chest by the two metal limiters. The limiters are attached to electrodes under Alex’s shoulders and if the bar touches, a circuit completes, and searing pain will shoot down his nerves. This had already happened once resulting in pain shooting across his back and shoulders. It was not an experience he wants to repeat.

"Another two kilos," the overseer orders as he rises from his chair. He strolls to the edge of the apparatus and watches Alex's face as the pressure increases. He observes the sweat and the lines of strain, which he expects, however, he also finds anger in the eyes and he smiles amused. "The best method of training is often the simplest," he says conversationally. "Merchandise needs inducement if it is to do its best. The desire to avoid pain is such a strong incentive. It’s remarkable how much extra effort merchandise is capable of if properly encouraged."

He calls out to the guard, "Add another two." He presses his fingers into the top of Alex's arm, feeling the straining muscles tremble beneath the skin. "A little more, I think," he muses. "You have shown remarkable will power." He stands perfectly still, watching and gauging how much more Alex can take. Not much, he decides then declares, "Add another five."

Before the guard can increase the pressure Alex releases the bar, rolling to the side beneath the loud crash as it hits the limiters, springing clear of the apparatus, and escaping the punishing agony. The overseer shakes his head, his right hand reaching into the pouch that holds the pebble. "Even for merchandise, you’re stupid. How often must I teach you to submit? When will you realize you must always obey? You were supposed to withstand the pressure of the bar as long as you could. How else can I determine your full capacity?"

The overseer removes his hand from the pouch and is holding the pebble, after a brief pause, it flashes bright red, and so does the collar. Alex collapses to the floor screaming so loudly, his throat feels raw, as a red tsunami of excruciating agony cascades through his body, culminating in his head as he blacks out.

Water hits Alex in the face shocking him back to full awareness. He splutters and props himself up on his elbow, wetness running down his face, dripping onto the floor beneath him. He finishes coughing and takes a long, trembling breath, then slumps back. He knows there was no escape while he wears the collar.

"That’s better," said the overseer as he approaches and glowers down at Alex. "Pay attention," he snaps angrily. "House Quinala has spent time, trouble, and considerable money on you. We have given you the best training so you can learn valuable skills. All we demand is your finest effort and total obedience. Do you understand?" Alex nods.

"Yes," said the overseer severely. "You'll be obedient and work hard or I'll burn out your brains with unremitting pain. I'll have you moaning, crawling, and begging for release. Think about it, you useless piece of merchandise. Here your value is what I say it is." He then looks around the room. Men are busy at their training as they studiously avoid looking in their direction. The overseer smirks and waves his hand, "They appreciate the demonstration of what stupidity results in. Now eat and rest. We shall continue with your training tomorrow."

Alex watches as the overseer leaves followed by two guards. The rest of the guards begin shouting, “Get a move on. Go and get your bottles, you have fifteen minutes to hand the empties back.” Whilst waving batons towards the door.

Hodric approaches Alex, "You're rubbing the overseer the wrong way," He states as he offers his hand to help Alex to his feet. "The guards aren’t usually too bad when you get to know them. But, the overseer can be really vicious at times and he seems to have something against you."

Alex looks up and takes the offered hand. "I have no idea why he would have anything against me. I’ve only seen one overseer before today and it wasn’t him."

"Well, I’ve never seen the human overseer take such an interest in any of the thralls before. Are you sure that you’ve not done anything to upset him?" Hodric asks as he pulls Alex to his feet. "Just remember that in this place you're his property until you’re sold. We all are, but especially you humans. Things normally aren't so bad if you play along. No pain, decent beds, a bit of good food now and again."

"The overseer’s troubled," whispers a human who approaches from behind Alex. "He's had meetings with an inspector who’s looking into something shady. He’s probably in it up to his neck."

A second human draws near and Alex can’t help but stare at his pale blue skin. "I heard that the overseers are scared since the inspector’s here to see why it is that much of the merchandise is dying. So, maybe he’s trying to fix whatever’s wrong with the pretty boy here, to get back into favor. I mean typically we get trained, then sold off, and he gets the credit for a job well done."

“So, no one cares about how many of you die?” Alex asks.

“Nah, most of us are criminals that have been sentenced to slavery by the magistrates. It’s cheaper than throwing us in prison and they get some money when we are sold.” The second human asserts.

"It ain't so bad," insists the first speaker. "I was caught for theft and I was nearly sent to the front to serve my sentence. I’d rather be a slave.”

“It could still happen to you if you’re not sold.” The second man interjects.

Alex looks at the first man. "You get sent to the front? What front?"

"What do you mean what front? Have you been living under a rock or something? It’s the front where you fight the host, and if you’re lucky they’ll just kill you rather than turn you into a drone."

Hodric starts to walk off pulling Alex by the arm. “We haven’t got time for this. We need to get our basic.”

Alex is led by Hodric to a room that looks like a canteen with a guard handing out bottles to each man whilst the rest patrol the room. Alex moves to stand in line to get his bottle and someone behind him squeezes his butt, and then whispers in his ear, “Are you wet yet?” Alex whirls around and faces a heavily muscled, pale green man a head taller than him. The man sizes him up and then with a salacious gleam in his eye, he leans close to Alex’s face and whispers. “You been broke in yet?”

Alex shoves against the green man's chest, compelling him to take a step back. He laughs and makes a grab for Alex’s arm, “Playing hard to get. I really like that.” Alex blocks the grab and counters with a short strike to the base of the throat, making the guy grimace and stumble back. “That's it, fight. It’s always much more fun that way.”

A guard notices what’s going on and shouts. “Kracc. Leave the new boy alone or you’ll be going back to the pit. Now move to the end of the line.”

Kracc locks eyes with Alex and gives a feral smile. “I’ll be seeing you real soon, pretty boy.” Then he slowly turns and heads down the line.

Hodric moves behind Alex. “As you can tell he’s got the hots for you.”

“Yeah, you don’t say.”

“Well, try not to let it worry you too much. With the special attention you’re getting from the overseer you're virtually untouchable. If Kracc lays a finger on you the overseer would probably use his collar to slow roast him. Plus the guards know of his interest and they won't want to suffer the overseer’s wrath if something happens.”

“So he won’t try anything?”

“Well, maybe not him, but his crew will try to give you a hard time, without actually attacking you.”

A guard shouts. “Dwarf, stop holding up the line.” Holdric turns and steps towards the guard giving out bottles and he receives a red one. Alex follows and the guard hands him an orange bottle.

“Over there, Alex,” Hodric says, pointing to a table in the corner. “It’s my usual spot so no one should bother us.” Alex follows as they make their way to the table and they take a seat. Holdric opens his bottle and takes a mouthful. “It’s horrible stuff, but, it’ll keep you alive.”

Alex opens his own bottle and takes a mouthful. He begins to run his finger around the bottle’s opening, and then he rubs his fingers together. He takes another mouthful and rubs more of the liquid onto his finger before he then wipes it on the inside of his collar. He does this a few more times with his fingers lingering longer on the collar each time. Eventually, his fingers slip beneath the flexible band, and he twists the metal.

"Don't do that!" Hodric snaps sharply. "You might manage to break it."

"That’s the idea," Alex responds ironically.

"Then forget it. One of two things will happen. Either it’ll detect you trying to tamper with it and switch on the pain until one of the guards switches it off. Or if you manage to break it open, it’ll explode probably killing me as well. And, if you try to run, after you get so far it will explode. The guards can also send a signal to reach the collar anywhere on the planet and again it explodes. Unless it’s opened with its control pebble, by your owner, it’ll detonate." He then touches his own collar and shrugs. "It's all a part of the slavery game."

Well, it’s not a game I want to play, Alex thinks bleakly. He clenches his fists in anger; he’ll never be able to accept being a slave.

Hodric pushes the orange bottle closer to Alex, “Drink up. You don’t want to get stuck in the pit on your first day.”

Alex picks up the bottle and grimaces as he finishes the contents, he then stands and takes the bottle back to the guard who commands. “Stand over there and wait to be shown your cell.” The guard issues the order in a bored tone, pointing to the wall nearby. Alex walks to the position indicated and leans against the wall to wait. The guard glances in his direction every so often to check that Alex is still there.

The guard stands and shouts, “Okay, hand your bottles back and go to your cells. You have five minutes.” As each of the men returns their bottle they look over at Alex and he begins to feel like a prize exhibit. Last to approach are the green-skinned men and they all leer at Alex and smile, some even grab their crotch. The last but one man to return his bottle is Drosz, who returns two bottles. He is closely followed by Kracc who locks gazes with Alex and makes kissing motions as he hands his bottle over before smiling broadly.

“Come on Drosz, we have to go back to our cell,” Kracc states as he turns to leave and Drosz nods.

After Kracc and Drosz leave the guard takes his baton and indicates for Alex to follow him as a second guard falls in behind. The guard walks out of the canteen and across the atrium to a cell and he waves Alex to enter.

Alex moves into the cell and the door slams shut. He is alone and he gazes around his new cell. Except that this cell is identical to his previous one, just without his blankets, mattress, or his hat. He slowly moves over to the bunk, sits and leans against the wall, and listens. For a while it is silent, but then he hears the guard’s footsteps fade in the distance, then the lights go out, and a final bang as a door is shut. It’s not long before he begins to hear indistinct murmurs, then comes faint, frightening laughter. Alex listens to the different voices that start off broken and fleeting, then as time wears on they become more distinct and recognizable, as taunting.

“Pretty boy. Oh, pretty boy, you're gonna love it here. This ain't such a bad place. Kracc will look after you and introduce you around, he’ll make you feel right at home. I know he won’t charge his friends too much for those who want to sample your loving, especially that soft human butt of yours.”

”You're some sweetmeat, pretty boy. I’m looking forward to getting a taste.”

“Pretty boy. You’re going to be a real heart breaker.”

“I’m looking forward to being your special friend, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy, We’re gonna make you scream.”

Several voices laugh.

“Shh, keep it down or the guards will hear.”

“Pretty boy, Can’t wait to pound you ‘til you squeal.”

The voices keep on, sly and disturbing in the dark. Until suddenly there is a crash as a door is kicked open. “You scum are going to regret making so much noise. I’m going to make sure none of you makes another sound.” A few seconds later, Alex feels a flash of pain from his collar and he opens his mouth to scream, but no sound emerges. “That’s right scum you’ve all been muted.” Alex grits his teeth at the continuing throb of pain in his throat. He hears the guard’s footsteps fade away. Then the lights go off, darkness descends, and there’s total silence.