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Orbital
Chapter 8

-VB-

To be truthful, we only wanted what we were familiar with. It was why despite the fact that there were many universes out there with surely wonderful technologies beyond our understanding and women who were too good for us, we chose instead to start our journey in EVE Online’s New Eden cluster and traveled to the Star Wars galaxy.

However, we knew very little about this galaxy beyond a few worlds. Sure, we had dug through the wookiepdia for its legends content for a long time before our transmigration happened, but our knowledge was shallow.

It was for this reason that we had twenty dedicated selves constantly reading history, intercepting data, making connections, and slowly understanding this galaxy. The twenty of us worked at the heart of our Hidden Fortress System, and came across a simple piece of news.

The Galactic Senate received a distress call from an inspector species called Yami'rii.

It took one glance for us to realize what was happening right now: the Huk War.

It was an opportunity of a lifetime. Griveous, still free and in flesh, fought in this war and would be forced to return to Kalee, his homeworld, after the jedis defeated him and his army.

We, unfortunately, did not have an army.

But the kaleesh had an army.

We grinned as a plan began to form. The Banking Clans would attempt to take Grievous into their service. We would be there to take it first.

More than that, we intended to earn his loyalty and respect.

-VB-

While some of us plotted to interfere in the greater galactic scene, there were those of us more interested in finding ourselves more women to join us in bed.

Even now, Padme worked her ass off, literally, to keep us happy, but there were only so many rounds she could go a day.

To that end, three of us decided to visit Orvax IV, a known slave market world.

Our ships, Punisher-class Amarrian design frigates, dropped out of hyperspace about one AU from the planet and flew over to the planet. Receiving signals from the local hyperlane registrar, we made our way to one of three spaceports on the planet and docked. Really, calling it a spaceport was a bit much. No one called a flat field a garage, after all.

Nevertheless, when the three of us exited our ships, we were greeted by the local customs agent. The agent, a Neimodian wearing robes, sneered. "Are you selling anything?"

"No."

"It'll be 500 truguts for parking."

That was the equivalent to 10 standard credits.

We paid it with a solid if small gold nugget, which the agent took with a nod.

Soon, we moved into the cities and the slave markets of Orvax IV. While significant technological side of the planet showed itself in its metal high risers, there were also primitive clothes being used to make shades and stalls. Trash littered the streets, and there were more than a few blood stains every few meters.

There were a thousand and more species on the market. Most of them carried signs and stood in front of stalls or stores that owned them. Soon, we found a shop that specializes in near-human and humans.

"Welcome to Bugetta's!" a thin Bothan spoke up as he approached us. "What kind of slaves are you looking for today?"

"We don't have anything in mind," one of us replied. All three of us wore identical gray and gold rimmed helmets and body armors. "Do you mind if we look around?"

"Of course, of course! I-ll be right here if you need anything!"

The shop, Bugetta's or something, displayed its "goods" with neat rows of narrow pens where the slave would either sit or stand. Each pen was marked by all known information, including medical. This shop was one of the more reputable ones, if the time and effort they spent collecting the details as they had.

The reason why we were here was simple; our needs were high and mounting, and we weren't getting trustworthy partners quickly. We couldn't abandon all of our duties to spread across the galaxy to find a eoman to fuck for each of us. Slaves were the next best thing. Our goal here was also simple. We wanted to buy enough slaves to keep at least a tenth of our numbers satisfied.

Considering that there were a thousand and five hundred of us, we needed enough women for one hundred and fifty men to exhaust themselves in bed. Assuming that all slaves could take two of us each, we needed a minimum of seventy-five slaves. We started with humans in this shop, picking women around our age or younger after verifying that our selections did not have self-professed married partners. Next, the twi'leks. Mirulakans. Aruzans. Arkanians. Keshiris. Wroonians. Zabraks. S'kytris. Togrutans. Zeltrons. Then we added half-breeds as well.

By the time we stopped and paid for the slaves, we had bought over eighty slaves from this shop alone.

While one of us went to take the slaves to our ships with the generous assistance of the Bugetta's security droids, two of us continued on.

-VB-

T'ya winced as the ship shook, a telltale sign of hyperjump.

She rubbed her wrists, now free of the cuffs that had bound her. Looking around, she saw that all of the slaves her new master had bought were all in the same boat: cuffless and clothed.

Well, to be precise, her buyer told her and all others that once they reached the destination, they would all be free. They would be allowed to go wherever they wanted. However, he would not help anyone. Those who remained with him, however, could expect to live a life with very few worries, and made it clear those who stayed were those willing to bed him.

It wasn't a trap as she could see it, but it was an offer of freedom that might lead to death. Most of them had no free families, had little skills, and knew no one. If they left, then the best they could do was sell their bodies in the streets or do some unskilled menial labor for a pittance. This assumed, of course, criminals didn't kidnap them to sell as slaves.

She could see it in the eyes of the other slaves scattered around in this ship's flat and wide cargo hold.

"Hey."

T'ya glanced to her right. A human was talking to her..

"Yes?"

"What are you going to choose?"

T'ya was a twi'lek. A twi'lek without a protector, power, or skill was a slave or dead. It was merely how the galaxy flowed.

"I'm staying," she murmured as she drew her legs closer to herself. "It's not like I have a family to go back to."

They sold her, after all.

The human grimaced. "I…. I don't want to be some rich boy's fuck toy," she mumbled.

"He is supposedly not going to stop you from leaving."

"Yeah, and what if he stops by Nar Shadda or wherever?"

T'ya shuddered. "Back to being a slave."

Silence fell as the conversation lost steam.

What was there to talk about? Sure, some of the braver or stupider ones would leave, but T'ya and this girl next to her were neither. She wanted to have full meals, a soft bed, fun things to do, and not die like a dog.

All she had to do was spread her legs and do whatever sexual fantasy her new master wanted.

She stared at her green-skinned arms with resignation.

Hopefully, he wasn't into anything too humiliating or painful.