The cuffs that are now on my wrists look a lot more dainty than the earlier ones, but I've already tested them and they're just as strong - if not stronger.

I can't remember the last time I wore a dress, and my gaze keeps going to the soft, sea-green fabric. Charlaegh understands her craft extremely well, as the hue exactly matches the color of my eyes.

'Come along,' the Plantan snarls at me, then pulls so hard on the chain that I stumble forward. I look at him furiously. Unfortunately, I am from a planet where such looks are not lethal.

The alien has left behind the colors, sounds and smells that surrounded the slave market, and having bought me, I walk with him: into an uncertain future. 

Meanwhile, I have found out that the gravity on Serail is adjusted according to the intergalactic chord, which is only slightly lighter than I was used to on Earth. It makes my steps graceful, while my dress sways elegantly around me. Combined with my soldier training, that gravity is the reason I am barely panting after the hundreds of steps I just descended. The steep staircase looked as if thousands of feet have stepped on it before me, but I doubt any of them were done by a high-ranking person.

That's also why I don't think the Plantan is a gentleman, because we walked this route together.

Just as the Boltrunian did before, the Plantan puts his palm on the single door that is in this hall. The only other way is back up, to the slave market. I make sure to stay close to my new guard. He clasps the other end of the chain tightly and then we step onto the new floor.

I see steel block boxes as far as the eye can see, interspersed with cylindrical items of various sizes both on the black floor and floating around in the air. Their various colors add some freshness to the scene. My heels sink uncomfortably into the rubber surface, making it difficult for me to move forward.

'Watch out,' the Plantane suddenly says, and I look at him questioningly.

Immediately I understand his warning as the floor begins to move like a treadmill, causing me fall hard against him. His body feels as sharp and dry as how his laugh sounds, and I do my best to get back up as quickly as possible.

'Blossom,' I grumble, knowing that's a swear word for such a tough Plantane. Leave it to me to know such things. Although he has no face, I can tell by his demeanor that he has heard me and cannot appreciate my cutting remark. Now it's my turn to grin.

Not having to concentrate on my feet allows me to look around, which is what I do. The block boxes I see everywhere are all houses; the best description I have for them is Earth flats, with wide, empty streets in between. I don't see many humanoids anyway, but that may also be because windows are patently unfamiliar here, so I can't peek inside anywhere.

Without a word, the Plantane suddenly pulls me along by the chain and I stumble off the treadmill. I probably need to earn another warning.

He steps up to a dark red cylinder. His palm print on the door causes it to open and I notice that the vehicle can accommodate two medium-sized creatures. He pushes me inside, then follows. There is no bottom in the cylinder, but I can line up my feet. Don't they have a more practical way for this? Or don't the original inhabitants of Serail have feet? I'm getting curious about the gentleman who bought me, but I know better than to ask Plantane. I assume we are going to meet him soon.

'Zandr,' he says at that moment and the inside of the cylinder lights up blue. 

The cylinder moves upward. I'm anything but scared, but I do my best to keep my balance. For some races this fall is not deadly, but for me at least it is. Or is that why they use rubber as a floor?

Because I can't do otherwise, I lean against the Plantane. My wrists are locked together, making him my only help. He can't appreciate it, but fortunately he doesn't push me away either.

In fact, he doesn't give me any attention. Instead, he starts examining his body for sprouts and dead leaves, as if killing time. I watch with raised eyebrows, but mostly because I have nowhere else to stare. Is that his version of squeezing pimples? I gag loudly.

'Zandr,' says the cylinder and then it comes to a stop. The door opens automatically this time and I rush to get out of the cramped space. The Plantane hooks my leg and I fall to the ground so hard that my hands pop open, but go numb at the same time.

'Tulip, carnation, LILY,' I roar behind me. Oh wait, I know another one: 'Forget-me-not!'

That'll teach him, though I'm not sure he knows these types of flowers.

The next moment, someone lifts me up by my throat, and it hurts so much that I start screeching, as far as my vocal cords can still produce sound.

'What the hell, Simix,' a deep voice asks.

I manage to stand on my toe-tips, giving myself some air. The owner of the voice pulls my face to his.

For a moment, I think I'm looking at a human, until I see the various machine parts of his body. He may have started out as an Earthling, but now he is a cyborg.

His face is barely affected by metal, making his powerful jaws and black hair stand out clearly. His eyes are also black, and they scan me as I check him.

'Forget-me-not,' he repeats my last word. At least this man is familiar with the meaning.

He hesitates visibly, which will be why Simix, the Planter, interferes. 'Lord, this Earthling's name is Sim1. She was on PWX8973-N0X, which we picked out today.'

I know I shouldn't, but I snort belatedly. 'Picked out.' Is that what they call it here, yes?

The cyborg squeezes a little harder, giving me black spots in my vision. Although I resolved not to do the impossible, I try to wrestle myself out of his grip.

As I thought, it's useless.

'Take her to residence 3,' the cyborg says.

'Yes, Lord Zandr.' Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Plantan bending, making a rustling sound.

His flat, fingerless hands yank me out of his lordship's grasp, and then I am taken away, half dazed. Only then do I notice how creatures of various sorts surround us and stare at me. I also realize now that I am in a house, or what must pass for a house. Since the lord of the house has fairly similar needs to mine, I trust that I can survive well here.

I just don't know how comfortable I am with that.