Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Slave Tender ❯ The Slave Tender Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

 

 

The slave tender had raised many a baby slave in her life. Her species was naturally given to nurture, and many of her kind in bondage were given this duty. She had suckled many herself from any of her ample teats, and there were more than one who called her `Mama” or “Kani” or “Orla' or whatever their kind called their bearing parent.

 

Most Masters did not trouble themselves with the care or interest in young slaves. Some of course had a taste for young flesh, sometimes in more ways than sexual. This was not her concern. Masters wanted their slaves back to their duties and not tied down with offspring, and so only days after being born, they would be placed in her care, the mothers sometimes tearful, others indifferent were made to regain their duties and appearances they had before bearing.

 

There had been in her past, difficult young ones to raise…some had been slow to suckle, others needed particular temperatures in order to thrive. Still others had been reluctant to be held, or to sleep, or any variation of difficulties. But she had never once failed with a healthy infant.

 

This one was different though. This one, she was very much afraid she was losing. It was not for lack of effort or know-how, but this one had been small when he was born. Small, but strong, with healthy lungs and limbs. She'd heard he had to be forcibly taken from his parent…a rare carrying male of an even rarer race. Still he was primate and mammal, and should have by rights…thrived in her expert care. At first he ate, and she smiled and cooed at him. His hands waved, his tail curled and uncurled and his long black hair nestled in the crook of her fuzzy arm. She thought all would be well. But then the little one would not sleep in its cot. No amount of rocking or singing or feeding could make it stay asleep once she set it down. Very well, some species needed contact. She took him into her bed, and that seemed to work for a time.

 

But his feeding grew more and more erratic, and he slept more and yet seemed to fuss more. His diapers grew dryer and nothing she did seemed to make any difference. Had the baby been of a common slave of a common race, she might have reported his failure to thrive, and that would have been the end of it. A doctor would have come, rendered his decision, and the baby would have either been taken into hospital care or euthanized depending on the doctor's recommendation. But the child and its parent were rare enough that she mustered her courage and reported to the master instead of the Slave Master.

 

The Master did not berate her nor beat her for incompetence; he listened with a serious look on his face as she recounted all she had done to try and make the baby live. Finally he gestured to her to follow him.

 

“You see this, Erka? This is my prize.” In the room, on a pile of cushions lay what she thought the babe in her arms might grow to be. Tall, strong, with a mane and tail of darkest black. But he was listless, and pale. Thin. Much like the baby in her arms. Though she only bowed her head, something stirred in the slave, chained so prettily and though he looked weak, he was up on his feet in moments, straining towards her. He spoke in words she could not understand, but she knew his tone and his desperate lunging all too well. Stepping back, she cradled the infant more closely to her.

 

The Master spoke slowly. “My prize amongst prizes. A captive Saiyajin and his offspring. Born into my house. But tell me Erka…what good are either of them to me dead? Of course, I would have their pelts…but their worth to me is alive. I have heard of the difficulties of course in keeping Saiyajins. Breaking a mated pair will always result in the death of the slave. What good fortune I had to come upon an unmated male I thought. See how his neck is unscathed? And when I found he was carrying a child…well my fortune doubled. But now I am losing both of them. I contacted an expert you see. And your information, faithful slave tender, brings us full circle.” He sighed and the slave tender watched him curiously from shadowed eyes. This was very different to what she had expected. Still the slave lunged and growled, and finally, the young one stirred at her breast, uttering a weak wail, then a weaker trill. It pleaded for something she could not give.

 

Finally, after a long silence, the Master spoke once more. “Give my slave his child.” A broad hand pushed her forward, and the slave tender squeaked, afraid of the snarling, growling monster before her. She could not hand the child over to such a thing!! Such a fearsome being!! But the decision was taken from her as eager hands snatched the baby from her arms, and retreated, the air filled with quite a different sound as the large male thrummed in his chest and covered his wee child with his tongue, cleaning and stimulating, she could see. Her astonished eyes grew wider as he bit his own wrist, cradling the infant to him with an arm and a tail as he dripped his own blood onto the infant's lips. After several drops, a tiny tongue, pale from neither eating nor drinking emerged to lap up the warm fluid. She had never considered…never thought…blood?

 

In silence the Master and slave tender watched as the parent fed the child and the child ate. Presently the Master rang for food for the adult slave and turned to the slave tender. “You will tend them both. You will care for the parent and the child, and when the baby is old enough, he will be taken from his parent again. You will make sure neither of them perish in the meantime. Your quarters will be moved here for the time being.”

 

She dared not refuse, the thought never even entered her brain, and she bowed deeply in the way of a life long slave. As the Master left, and she took delivery of the food, she began in her brisk way to do what she was bred to do.

 

“Now that you've seen to baby, let's take care of you, Mama,” she said in her no nonsense voice. “You cannot feed the child if you yourself do not eat. Mentally she began to make lists of what she would need, and she brought the food closer. “I will not harm you,” she said softly to the wild eyes. “I am here to help.” She was very surprised when a deep voice answered her, quietly.”

 

“I know you are,” Radditz said, in the Common Tongue. Looking at his child who was sleeping, sated for the time being he gritted his teeth. He had to make the best of it if his son were to survive. “His name…it's Sage.”

 

 

Owari