W...What?

Ziv jolted awake as the first rays of the sun pierced through the tiny window of his cramped room. His eyes felt heavy and foggy, and he rubbed them vigorously to dispel the sleep. As he got up, he noticed that several slaves were leaving the compound. He paused for a moment, watching them trudge away, their bodies weighed down by bruises.

Ziv waited for a while, then followed behind. He walked along the dusty path, his eyes scanning the surroundings. As he walked, he noticed a girl carrying another girl on her back. Something about her seemed familiar, though Ziv couldn't place where he had seen her before. So, he dismissed the thought and kept moving.

As he stepped outside the compound, he saw marines milling about, their faces stern. In the middle of them stood two celestials, one fatty and the other lean, one male and the other female.

The male Celestial's space suit was straining at the seams from his protruding belly while the female's suit hung loosely from her emaciated frame. The disgusting getups did little to hide their hideous forms.

As the slaves neared, the armed guards barked orders, "Line up you maggots! Move your asses!" The guards lashed out with their whips, ordering the slaves to line up.

The slaves were hit and pushed to form a straight line. The sound of their cries echoed in his ears, and he felt little ill.

As Ziv lined up with the other slaves, he glanced at the Celestials. The fat one seemed to enjoy watching the slaves wither under his authority. His beady eyes scanned the crowd, taking sadistic pleasure in their suffering.

The guards were just as cruel, their electro-whips snapping indiscriminately. One of the guards, Ziv remembered from yesterday, smirked as his whip connected with an elderly woman.

The Celestials strode forward, puffed up with arrogant pride. The slaves dared not look directly at them as they passed, scanning for any signs of insolence.

Ziv watched out of the corner of his eye as the Celestials inspected the slaves. The fat one's space suit strained against his bulging figure while the emaciated female floated bonelessly beside him.

"We need some new slaves," the fat Celestial announced. "These ones are getting boring."

"Yes," the female Celestial replied in a high-pitched squeak. "We need more variety."

The fat Celestial pondered aloud. "A mermaid would be interesting. And a giant!" he exclaimed, turning to his companion.

The female Celestial squealed in agreement. "Yes, yes! A mermaid and a giant. That would certainly liven things up around here."

Both Celestials laughed casually as if discussing the weather, utterly unaware of the suffering around them. Ziv stopped watching, feeling cursed just for laying eyes on such evil.

He rolled his eyes and spotted the three girls from earlier. The young woman with black hair supported the green-haired girl between herself and the orange-haired girl.

As he looked closer, he noticed that the ground beneath them was slightly red. Soon. realized that the green girl was bleeding heavily. He could see that the black-haired girl was struggling to keep her upright, while the orange one tried to provide support.

Suddenly, the green-haired fell, and the wet ground, pulling the other two girls down with her.

A guard approached, surveying the three girls sprawled in the mud. No trace of sympathy crossed his face as he pulled out his whip, preparing to strike the helpless girls once more.

As the guard raised his whip, Ziv's head shot up in shock. "The hell?" instinctively escaped his lips.

The guard whirled around, the electro-whip connecting with Ziv's face and sending him sprawling in the mire.

"Filthy lowborn," the guard spat. "Don't speak unless told." With that, he stalked away.

The two girls lifted their green-haired companion, who moaned in pain. They shot worried glances at Ziv, who gingerly touched his swollen face.

The dark-haired girl looked at Ziv for a few seconds as he slowly rose from the mire, his face swollen and bruised.

Ziv felt anger rising within him at the guard, but seeing the Celestials standing aloof in their space suits, he forced himself to calm down.

Who was truly at fault - the guard who carried out the cruel task or the Celestials who issued the command? If punishment was dealt, who would receive it - the guard for striking him or the Celestials ultimately responsible?

As the celestial and the guard left, the slaves were assigned their daily labor. Ziv was assigned to gardening, a slow and tedious task of trimming bushes. As he worked, his mind wandered, trying to think of a way out of this hell.

As he trimmed the bushes, he saw the three girls in the distance. The green-haired girl was lying on the ground, while the other two were tending to her wounds.

The orange-haired girl cried as she scooped muddy earth and poured it into the green-haired girl's leg wound, hoping to stanch the bleeding. The black-haired girl looked tense, her eyes fixed on the wound.

"Be there, a little more," the orange-haired girl said, her voice choked with tears.

"No more," the green-haired girl replied, her voice weak.

Ziv approached the trio, clicking his tongue at the heavy atmosphere of grief and suffering.

"Sad sight to behold," he remarked.

The orange-haired girl stiffened defensively at his approach, but the dark-haired girl gestured for calm, realizing he was the one who had spoken out earlier.

The orange-haired girl gritted her teeth, but the black-haired girl recognized him as the one who had saved them from the guard's whip. She spoke up, her voice sad and a little cracked, "What do you want?"

Ziv replied firmly, "What can a slave give another?"

He knelt by the green-haired girl, brushing the useless mud from her wound. "This won't help," he said, his tone gentle. "Mud is useless here," he said, brushing off the mud that the orange-haired girl had applied to the wound.

As Ziv examined the wound, the green-haired girl watched him through dazed eyes. Ziv stepped forward and said, "I can treat her, but I can't guarantee her life."

The orange-haired girl sneered at him. "What do you know? You're of our age at max."

"I am a doctor," Ziv said. "Hard to believe, I know."

Ziv understood why she would be skeptical. He was an adult, trapped in a child's body. And he had the knowledge of a graduated student in medicine.

Ziv pointed to some leaves in a nearby garden. "Bring me those," he said. "And those thin metal wires by the slave quarters - hurry if you want her to live."

The dark-haired girl paused for a moment, then nodded. "Go," she urged the orange-haired girl. "We have no choice but to try."

Though skeptical, the orange-haired girl hurried away. The dark-haired girl plucked the leaves and handed them to Ziv.

Looking at his childlike features, she said softly, "Funny how our only hope now depends on a six-year-old."

Ziv smiled gently. "Age and appearance can be deceiving, for all you know I may be twice your age."

As the girl returned with the wires, Ziv got to work. He carefully used the wires to stitch up the green-haired girl's wound, using the leaves to create a poultice to help fight off infection.

Ziv took the crushed leaves and smeared the green paste onto the gaping wound on the girl's leg. The sharp herbal scent rose into the air.

The green-haired girl winced in pain but did not cry out. The dark-haired girl held her hand reassuringly.

Ziv picked up the thin wire and deftly began winding it around the girl's leg, above and below the wound. The wire cut into his small fingers but he did not stop.

"This will pinch a bit," he warned as he tightened the wire, drawing it taut against the girl's flesh. She gasped but gritted her teeth and bore the pain silently.

The orange-haired girl watched with wide, disbelieving eyes as the blood flow from the wound slowed and then stopped. The green paste foamed as it worked its magic.

Ziv secured the wire and looked up at the green-haired girl. "The worst is over," he said gently. "Now just trust god in this. Might as well pray."

As Ziv secured the wire around the green-haired girl's wound, relief spread across the dark-haired girl's face. Her tensed shoulders relaxed and the creases in her brows smoothed.

She let out a long, slow exhalation - a sigh that carried with it all the worry and fear

"Repeat after me," Ziv said. "It's for good luck. Reciting the name of God."

The dark-haired girl questioned him skeptically. "Reciting the name of your god will help?"

"Yup," Ziv replied. "Invoking divine protection can't hurt."

The orange-haired girl interjected dismissively, "That's just superstition."

"No, It's not" How could he ever explain to them that?

The dark-haired girl smiled, a melodic sound in the gloomy air. "We owe you one, and we don't even know you?"

Ziv shrugged. "Names have little meaning for slaves."

"You talk big," the girl replied. "I'm Boa Hancock."

"W... Whaat?"