Gundam Seed Destiny Fan Fiction / Gundam SEED Fan Fiction ❯ Identification Number O04172 ❯ Part 1, Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Identification Number O04172

****Part One, chapter one****

Colors... colors.... It was first black, then lightening to a navy blue, a dark maroon and blue again. There was a slight change in light and the color of her eyelids finally settled on a murky purple. The color seemed heavy, holding her head down. Cagali opened her eyes. The small window, high in the corner of the room, was allowing the dim morning rays into the holding quarters. She moved her arm slightly to her side and felt the cold concrete wall.

“Jessi!” someone shook her. “Get up. Hurry.”

Cagali remembered where she was. This particular holding room held up to thirty natural girls and was full to capacity. There were six sets of bunks, each stacked five high, so that the slaves had barely any space, and a few preferred to sleep on the floor in the middle of the room. That was how she had chosen to switch out with `Jessi.' She had been sleeping near the door.

“Jessi!” the girl shook her violently. “The guard will be here any minute now.”

She slid out of the cot with some difficulty stood. The girl beside her looked shocked, then frightened.

“You're not...”

The door flew open and banged against the wall. Several people jumped and a few crawled out of their cots quickly. “Good morning naturals!” shouted the guard. “It's transport day. You get to leave this place you hate so much and make us some money while you're at it! Winners both ways.”

“Go back to your own bunk,” the girl next to Cagali whispered. “You know what they'll do if you're out of order.”

Cagali put a finger to her mouth hoping the girl would hush. The slaves were now lining up against the bunks according to the slave number on tattooed on their left arm. The guard was making his way down the lines. Cagali pulled up the left sleeve of her neon orange jumpsuit. O04172 was what Jessi had written on Cagali's arm with a black, SMS pen.

She was now number 004172. It struck her odd that she was only 4,172. The slave trade seemed to have been going on much longer for her to be just 4,172.

The guard took her arm and checked the number to that on his clipboard, and then to the number on her bunk. Twice. He examined her face. Cagali tightened. `Don't recognize me! Don't recognize me!' she thought, not reasoning that it was more logical to think, `don't not recognize me.' The coordinator did not move to the girl beside her.

“Is there a problem?” Cagali asked.

The coordinator stepped back and looked at her differently, now smirking. The entire room of slaves tensed. “I think you have an attitude problem,” said the guard. “You see, I'm a coordinator and you're a natural, you should know by now we are far superior to you. And yet you still look me in the eye and you deem yourself worthy to speak to me?”

`Oh Crap,' thought Cagali.

“Do you think there's a problem?” he asked, nastily.

She diverted her gaze down. “No,” she replied heart thumping in her chest.

“No?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Cagali corrected herself having to push out the `sir' to the man in front of her.

Smack.

Cagali fell back against the bunks, nearly knocking over some of the other slaves. She stood up again, rubbing the spot on her cheek. It stung for a moment. She tasted her blood and smirked. It was minimal compared to her POW training in Orb. `Play the part,' she thought, `You're the natural slave. They don't know you're a well trained Orb spy.'

The coordinator spat, and continued checking the ID Numbers down the row. He finished, and stopped at the door. “You have two hours to wash up and eat breakfast. Line check at 7:30,” with that he left and shut the door.

“Are you crazy!?” demanded the girl beside her, “Talking to a coordinator? You're lucky he didn't whip you for being out of order.”

“Look,” said Cagali and pulled up her left sleeve. She pointed to the number on the bunk. “Zero - zero - four - one - seven - two and zero - zero - four - one - seven - two; I'm in order, see?”

The girl looked at her for a moment then asked, “But then where's Jessi?”

“By now, she's probably safely back in Orb.”

“There's no way she could have gotten out. The coordinators watch us 24/7; if not with guards then cameras.”

“The security is pretty impressive to keep in a bunch of inferior naturals, huh?” Cagali noted.

Suddenly, the girl gasped, “When did you get here?”

“What?” asked Cagali.

“There are rumors that sometimes the guards want a natural slave for themselves. They don't want to pay so they catch another girl and replace her. They caught you last night, didn't they?” she demanded, “And took Jessi.”

“Have you seen any other girls being switched out by the guards?” asked Cagali.

“Well, no.”

“Rumors like that probably aren't true,” said Cagali and turned away from the girl. She began straightening up the sheets on the cot.

From the sheets, she pulled out a fine tip SMS pen and pocked it, then a small bracelet. It was silver, thin, and had a line of small emeralds across the top, her birthstone. She looked underneath it. There was the jeweler's signature and a small button. Kira must have paid a fortune for this. Cagali sighed and fastened it on her upper left arm, where the guards couldn't see it.

“We should probably go wash up,” said the girl. “Especially since the coordinators could have some sort of deadly disease.”

“Is that a rumor you heard as well?” asked Cagali.

“No,” she replied, “Think about it, coordinators are immune to a bunch of diseases but we aren't. They could have some weird virus that could kill us but they're not affected.”

“We're getting transferred to PLANT, so you're going to be around coordinators all the time.”

“Yeah, but PLANT is more sanitary than Earth. The coordinators are more likely to catch a disease here.”

Cagali paused, and then replied, “When you put it that way, I guess you have a point.”

“By the way,” said the girl, “My name's Miriallia.”

“I'm Cagali”

“Cagali,” Miriallia repeated, “Let's go.”

The spy followed the slave to the back of the room and through an unlocked door.

“Isn't this the guys bathroom?” asked Cagali noticing urinals.

“Nope, we get to share. Gross huh?”

“Are they in here with us?” asked Cagali.

“No, the coordinators lock the door to the bathroom when your room isn't using it.”

“Ok.”

“Look- New clothes!” the girls heard someone shout from across the room.

“Really?” said another voice, then “Finally, we get to get out of these ugly jumpsuits.”

“I'm getting a shower,” declared Miriallia.

Cagali followed her to the showers and saw that all but three of the sixteen showers were full. A stack of towels sat on a table. A girl grabbed one and headed to a shower.

“I got to wash these yesterday,” said Miriallia, “All 46 towels for natural use and 21 for coordinators.” She also grabbed a towel, and then a spray bottle.

“What's the bottle for?” asked Cagali.

“To spray the bottom of the shower, you can use it after me.” She said, “Are you sure you didn't get captured yesterday?”

“Positive,” replied Cagali, also taking a towel. She found the last empty shower and stripped down. As she was getting in, Mir tossed her the bottle. The spy got in the slave's shower, noticing the nasty bottom. As advised, she sprayed it and sprayed her feet for good measure. Her shower was not warm, but bearable.

She got out, dried herself and dressed back in the orange jumpsuit. Cagali made her way over to the boxes of clothes where most girls were, tossing her towel on a pile of others.

The clothes they were so happy to get weren't much at all. Each girl got a black skirt that passed the knees, a navy blue top with a turtle neck but short sleeves, presumably so that once out of the holding quarters the coordinators could see their ID numbers tattooed on their arms, underwear, knee high itchy socks, and boots. Everything was one size fits all.

Once dressed, Cagali felt fairly hot. Understandable, it was winter clothing. She took her bracelet from the pocket in her jumpsuit, not quite sure what to do with it. She no longer had the sleeve to cover it. She thought for a moment, and fastened it around her wrist anyways.

“The guards didn't take that from you?” asked Miriallia, grabbing Cagali's arm and examining the tracker.

“No,” was all Cagali could think to reply.

“It's pretty,” said Miriallia. “Did a guy give it to you or what?”

“Yeah, my brother,” replied Cagali.

“Try and hold onto it. Don't let any of the coordinators see it,” she instructed, and then gasped.

“What?”

“Your ID Number, where is it?”

Cagali looked down at her arm and swore. “I wasn't supposed to get it wet... It washed off…”

“Tattoos don't wash off,” the other girl replied, dumbfounded.

“It wasn't a tattoo. That number was written with an SMS pen- I wasn't supposed to get it wet for twenty-four hours.”

“SMS pen?”

“Synthetic Membrane Stain pen; heavy duty fake tattoo marker,” explained Cagali.

“What? Why... how... I...”

“I'm not a slave, got it?” Cagali whispered.

“Then what are you?”

“A spy”

“Whoa... I heard rumors but...” Miriallia said excitedly.

“Hush! Don't announce it to the world! I've got to get that number back on my arm before anyone else sees.”

She felt in the pockets of the jumpsuit and pulled out the SMS pen. Opening the top, she was about to write on arm but froze.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Miriallia.

“I don't remember my number.”

“Jessi and I were caught together, and I remember she was recorded first.... You're 72.”

“It was longer than that,” said Cagali.

“O04172,” she added.

“Zero,” Cagali started to write on her arm.

“No,” the other cut her off, “'O' as in orange.”

“Huh?” Cagali asked.

“Let me write it.” Miriallia took the SMS pen. “I can still see a little bit of the original outline,” she stated.

It seemed only moments later, the slaves were taking their seats on the space shuttle in order of their number, then the longest thirteen minutes of their lives as they left the atmosphere.

“We've been on here for three hours and you haven't said a word,” said Miriallia.

“I've just been thinking...” replied Cagali.

“About what?”

“These numbers... I mean if we're `O' then there has to be `A' `B' `C' `D'... and then there is five number digits. I'm familiar with the natural slave trade, all too personally now. The estimation was 61.3 naturals taken to PLANT as slaves a month... Do you have something I can write on or with?” asked Cagali.

Miriallia took a look in the seat back in front of her, and pulled out a napkin and a crayon. “Will this do?” she asked.

“Yeah”

The slave started twenty four years ago, quietly. It is estimated within that year forty-two naturals were taken as slaves to PLANT. The next year it more than doubled to reach 103, then 114, and 125.

Cagali wrote those numbers on the napkin.

Then, after a few years, the first small holding camp was established. They were transporting 25 slaves a week. 1425 naturals became coordinators' slaves that year. Within five years there were now 1809 natural slaves. Earth sent out investigators. PLANT set out to build three bigger holding camps, their locations secret.

The new holding camps were a huge success. PLANT was getting a ghastly 4,866 new natural slaves a month, and decided to come up with a labeling system for the naturals using a letter and five number digits. A00000, A00001, A99999.... By C.E. 60 the genetically enhanced coordinators held 468,961, or E68961, natural slaves for various purposes.

In CE 61, the countries of Earth found and destroyed all four holding camps, and now having proof that the coordinators were using their people as slaves, declared the war they had been preparing for the last decade. In CE 61, things were looking better for the naturals. Only 23 were transported that year.

PLANT fought back and sent multiple neutron jammers to Earth, causing a depression, energy crisis and rendering much technology useless. Stuck with only the most basic weapons, the naturals backed down, planning to recover with a bang. And the coordinators built an unknown number of newer, bigger, better, stronger, holding camps in unknown regions.

In January, C.E. 62, the slave trade recovered in full power, with a steady transport of about 2,559 natural slaves to PLANT a week, 133,068 a year. Earth could do nothing. This continued for seven years, and coordinators were deeply despised in almost all parts of the world.

By C.E. 69, 1,402,269 naturals had been taken as slaves. And Earth was mad and had an answer.

Junius

Seven, The

Bloody Valentine

The naturals showed their

Intent to kill as many coordinators

As the PLANTs had taken natural slaves

PLANT and Earth headed into a full fledged war, and the slave trade suffered. Only 1,348 slaves were transported in C.E. 69, all within January and the first two weeks of February. The coordinator's only fruit in C.E. 70 was war and naturals were kept at the holding camps for up to a year. But the trade was back. Now C.E. 71, 119 slaves were arriving at PLANT at that moment.

“Well, I know I'm not 4,172 anymore,” declared Cagali looking at the napkin. “More like 1,404,172.”

“Alright, naturals,” called a coordinator, “Single file in order of ID number.”

The guards ushered the naturals off the shuttle and into a large building. They stood there for sometime but the coordinators gave them no further instruction.

“Where are we?” Cagali asked.

“I don't know,” replied Miriallia. “I've never been to PLANT before.”

“Don't suppose anyone here knows why we've been waiting for so long...”

“Nope,” she agreed.

A door opened letting some light into the room. A man spoke to one of the guards, who took the first girl with him through the door.

“Maybe it's a physical or something,” suggested Miriallia.

“I hate physicals.”

After three minutes or so, the guard who had taken out the first girl grabbed the second. And so it seemed like they were waiting for hours in the room, but as Cagali's turn grew closer, she became nervous. She had no idea what was going on, and she didn't like having no idea what was going on. Before she knew it, the guard took her through the doors. She followed him up a few steps, and found herself pushed into bright lights.

“This next natural is O04172, I repeat O04172. If you feel like bidding on this girl, remember O04172.”

`I'm being auctioned,' thought Cagali.

The man who had spoken to the guard was the auctioneer. He walked over to Cagali. “This natural is blonde, with hazel eyes. Her skin is light, and without immediately noticeable blemishes.”

The auctioneer grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the center of the stage. Cagali hissed in pain. “She seems to be around 160 cm. For personal use, her hair is a good hold.” The auctioneer let her go and then pushed her. The slave stumbled slightly backwards.

“This natural also has good balance,” the auctioneer added. He grabbed her right arm, which was closest to him, and held it out. Nasty hands felt down her arm. Cagali tightened.

“This one is muscular, capable of some physical labor,” added the auctioneer. “But soft enough for personal use.”

Half in shock, half in embarrassment, Cagali watched as the man knelt down in front of her. The auctioneer squeezed her thigh and continued to feel down her leg, then did the same to the other. “Once again, I emphasize this one for a definite physical labor or pleasure use. This natural has strong legs and well aligned knees, so there won't be much for health problems if you do use her for labor. Now...” he stood up and turned her to the side.

Cagali felt the coordinator grab the back of her shirt, tightening it.

A scream of pain filled the room.

“Security!” called the auctioneer, now holding his left arm limply.

Even before he called out, two of the guards dashed on stage. Cagali looked at the man with the now disfigured arm to the guards. She thought to run, but they were too close. Cagali closed her eyes. A guard grabbed her and the other hit her on the head.

Cagali was roughly shaken awake. She tried to move, and noticed her hands were cuffed together and a guard sat beside her.

`Great,' Cagali thought, `I've been on PLANT less than a day and I've managed to get caught.' She was suddenly grateful for the bracelet Kira had given her. She'd find something small enough to press the button with before they questioned her or killed her.

“O04172,” a man called out. “Is she down there?”

“Got her,” said a guard.

She was yanked to a standing position. Cagali looked around herself just enough to notice several other naturals, Miriallia among them, in the room with her. Then she was taken outside, where various coordinators were signing papers and paying bills. She heard the coordinators talking, it was worse than she imagined.

“You're a pretty little natural,” she heard one say and laugh.

“A good addition to your collection,” was another comment.

“I'll just pay in cash,” said another close to her.

The guard pulled up her sleeve. “O04172,” he read. “She's yours.”

Cagali turned. The man the guard was talking to actually looked like he had yet to reach the legal drinking age. The coordinator was tan, blonde, and wore the maroon ZAFT pilot uniform. `I think he bought me,' thought Cagali. `So I'm not caught.'

The young ZAFT pilot turned to Cagali. “Come on, my cars this way,” he said and lead her with him, holding her arm. He said nothing as they walked through the parking lot and then he stopped at the car.

“You took out the auctioneer cause he was messing with you, right?” he asked.

“Uh... Yes,” replied Cagali.

The coordinator removed her hand cuffs. Cagali looked at him for a second and asked, “Aren't you afraid I'll run away or attack you?”

“I'm not planning to pull you around by your hair, so no,” he replied, “Personally; I was surprised none of the other girls tried anything.”

“Ah...” said Cagali surprised.

The ZAFT pilot unlocked the car. “Get in,” he instructed.

Cagali climbed in on the passenger's side. The car started and they left the parking lot.

“I'm Dearka Elsman,” he introduced himself. “Actually, I didn't get you for myself. I put you under a friend of mine's name. He moved into a new house two weeks ago, pretty nice for a nineteen year old, but he overworks himself, in fact, that's how he got the money to buy it in the first place. But his place is getting worse... and worse... he hasn't even unpacked all his crap yet.”

“You bought me to clean up after your friend?”

“Exactly”

`Great,' thought Cagali.

“What's your name?” asked Dearka.

“Cagali”

“Cagali, you have a last name?”

“I'm a slave.”

“I take that as a no.”

“Yeah”

“So where'd you learn to take down a guy like that? I think you might have broken the auctioneer's arm! I didn't think they taught naturals that kind of stuff.”

“I... uh... Took a self defense class,” said Cagali.

“Really?” asked Dearka, interested, “At the store house or did a previous owner send you to one?”

“No, in my hometown, with some of my friends”

“Wait... You actually lived with free-living naturals? You were captured?”

“Yessir”

“I didn't think they did that anymore...You must be more skilled than other naturals,” he concluded, “You hungry? There's a bunch of fast food places along this road.”

“I'm fine.”

“I'll get you something anyway. My friend will probably be working late tonight and I doubt he'll feed you anything.”

“Ok,” Cagali agreed.

Shortly, Dearka tossed her a greasy hamburger and fries and told her to eat, and when she was done, toss her trash in the backseat. She ate about half of what he gave her and tossed the rest behind her. She watched the road, trying to get an idea of where she was. She felt her eyes drooping. It seemed like a long drive to the friend's place, PLANT was pretty big.

“Don't go to sleep,” said Dearka and shook her, “You might have a concussion. Try and stay awake till nine for good measure.” He turned on the radio.

She continued to watch the road, now feeling more awake. She began to think of her mission and her reasons. She thought of her new owner, the worst possibilities playing in her mind. The car stopped.

“This is his house,” announced Dearka. He got out of the car.

Cagali stepped onto the sidewalk, noticing the grass growing through the cracks. The house seemed about the average size as in Orb, but not quite well kept. The lawn looked like it hadn't been mowed in months and the windows were all dirty and closed with shades. Dearka led her to the door and rang the bell. They waited for a moment and Dearka rang it again. She was nervous, more nervous than she'd been in her life. She hadn't even the remotest idea what this guy was like.

“Stop shaking,” Dearka told her. “I promise you the guy's not evil.”

“Sorry,” she replied, and tried to swallow her thoughts.

The door opened. Her new owner had genetically enhanced blue hair, emerald eyes, and even though Dearka had mentioned that he was nineteen, she was still surprised he looked about the same age as she, seemingly too young to have a natural slave. The guy wore a t-shirt and jeans. “Come to return my money?” he asked Dearka.

“Nope, I bought you a natural, see?” Dearka gestured to Cagali.

“What?!” the guy at the door jumped, “For under P.C. 300?”

“Yup”

“But surely... There's no way you could buy a natural legally for less than 300.”

“You know what,” Dearka said mock thoughtful, “I was thinking that exact same thing. In fact, I was about to give and go get one illegally but...” He pulled out a set of folded papers from his pocket. “These are your 100% legal ownership papers.”

The man at the door paused and took the papers, scanning them.

“Number O04172 sold P.C. 250 January 14, 71 C. E.,” he read, “I don't believe this... You forged my signature?” The guy accused Dearka.

“Yeah, something wrong with that?”

“Yes!” the other barked and thrust the papers back to Dearka, “This is a legal document not a petition to get the cafeteria to serve free candy!”

“Lighten up, Athrun. Your place is trashed, you need one of these.”

“I just moved in a few weeks ago, of course it's trashed. But I don't need another person living in my house.”

“Then why'd you give me P.C. 300 and tell me I could go buy you a natural?” and then added as an after thought, “legally.”

“Because they start bidding at P.C. 900; I didn't think you could actually...” Athrun sighed loudly, “Look Dearka, I don't want or need a natural. Why don't you keep her?”

“Dude, I share an apartment with Yzak, I already have someone to pick up after me. Besides, you said if I could get one for P.C. 300 or less you'd take it.”

“I just said that to get you off my back, I didn't think you could.”

“Well, you got lucky. For a while I didn't think I could either, but after she broke the auctioneer's arm, no one was bidding and the prices kept dropping....”

Athrun's jaw dropped. “You bought a natural that broke the auctioneer's arm?!”

“For P.C. 250,” Dearka beamed.

“You idiot! You of all people should realize naturals aren't necessarily stupid and obedient. We're fighting a war against them. She'll kill me in my sleep.”

“Her?” Dearka looked at Cagali for a moment then back to Athrun. “Naw... I don't think so...”

“It doesn't matter. I'm not keeping a natural slave, and I'm definitely not keeping one who took out the auctioneer. I don't care what you do with her, but you she's not staying with me.”

“Well, the slave abuse laws say I can't kill her, so I guess you could try and sell her again.”

“Why don't you go do that now?” suggested Athrun.

“It's 6:00. The traders only take in naturals from PLANT between eight and eleven.”

“I don't care, leave me alone.”

“I'm just trying to help you out,” protested Dearka.

“I'm busy,” replied Athrun. He shut the door and bolted it.

Cagali stood dumb struck, all nervousness gone. Dearka sighed, “The thanks I get. Here” he added and handed Cagali the ownership papers.

“What?” she asked.

“I'm leaving. See ya.” With that Dearka turn and headed back to his car.

“Wait! What am I supposed to do?” Cagali asked.

“Stay here, clean up a bit for Athrun.”

“But...”

“Just figure something out,” Dearka cut her off and hopped into his car.

“Ah...” she tried.

He closed the door and pulled away.

The slave turned back to the house. She stood in front of the door feeling a little apprehensive, somewhat awestruck, and almost as awkward as she had when one of Kira's friends confessed that he loved her. The natural thought for a moment and decided to ring the doorbell.

She waited, as she had before, and then rang it again. Hark, no one answered. Cagali had an idea of what the guy was thinking. It was probably along the lines of, `If I ignore Dearka, he'll go away.' Well... She wasn't leaving. She couldn't leave. Where would she go?

And so Cagali rang the doorbell again. Then she counted to sixty Mississippi and repeated the action. She looked at the doorbell again and felt an awkward tugging. She considered following her instinct, ring the doorbell constantly until he answered, but determined that this wasn't the right situation. Cagali stood for a few minutes, and then leaned against the wall all the while wishing her owner would up and decide to answer the door. She rang twice.

The door jerked open, “Dearka, will you take the hint and...” The coordinator stopped mid sentence, noticing Dearka wasn't there. Cagali looked at him blankly. “He left you here, didn't he?”

Cagali nodded, “Yessir.”

Her new master sighed. “Come in.”

The natural paused and stepped inside. The place was just as Dearka had said; trashed. Cardboard boxes were stacked against the wall. The carpet looked like it hadn't been vacuumed in a month. And it smelled... like Febreze.

“My work keeps me busy.” He told her noticing her horrified expression. “I haven't had time to unpack or clean. That's why Dearka insisted on getting me a natural...”

“What do you do?” asked Cagali.

“Pardon me?”

“I'm sorry, I'm stepping out of my place, sorry,” she apologized immediately.

“No, you can talk. What did you ask?” he replied.

“Uh... What do you do?”

The coordinator grunted. “I'm with ZAFT. I'm stationed in homeland defense.”

“Okay.” `Another ZAFT soldier,' Cagali thought.

The ZAFT soldier checked his watch. “I have to go to work. I'll be gone for a few hours. Just... stay in the house and watch TV or something.” He opened the coat closet and pulled out his ZAFT jacket. Cagali just noticed that he had changed out of his jeans into the ZAFT slacks. He put on his jacket and belt. He wore the same maroon pilot's uniform as Dearka, but he also wore a pearl white wing shaped pin near the neck of his uniform.

`He's in FAITH,' noted Cagali to herself.

“Don't break anything, ok?” With that, her owner stepped out and locked the door. She watched him climb into his car and drive off.

Cagali sighed and leaned against the wall. She could hardly believe her luck. This was not at all what she expected in playing slave. He hadn't even taken the ownership papers from her. She looked at them for a moment and unfolded them. The first page was the legal stuff her owner had read out loud earlier. She turned to the next page.

#O04172

Sex: F

Age: 19

`I'm seventeen,' thought Cagali. It got worse.

Height: 173 cm

Weight: 72 kg

Eye color: brown

Hair color: black

Ethnicity: African

“I've got a feeling this describes Jessi.” Cagali said to herself. “If these guys are at all observant, I'm caught.”

She paused for a moment, considering her options. She could keep it and make an excuse that the people writing the papers made a mistake. But then it'd probably be looked into and she'd be caught.... Or she could dispose of them and get yelled at, hit, but not caught. She'd just use a human excuse that would keep her slave instead of prisoner of war.

Cagali tore the sheets in half once, twice, thrice. She couldn't help but smirk looking at the confetti in her hand. Most slaves would love to do this.

The girl decided to look around the house and dispose of the papers. She'd probably be here for a few days now, seeing as they'd have to make a new ownership document. The slave peered out of the entry way into the room beside her. She felt on the wall for a light switch and turned it on.

The room was a makeshift office. Her owner had a plastic folding table covered in papers and a card table set up with his computer and printer. Nosily, she peeked at his papers. They were all bills and taxes. She shrugged and moved to the connecting room, turning on the light again; the kitchen.

It looked like the guy hadn't washed a plate since he moved in, or taken the trash out for that matter. Cagali walked over to the sink, deciding the fate of her ownership papers by shoving them down the garbage disposal and turning it on.

Turning off the grinding noise, Cagali sighed. The kitchen was a mess. The coordinator had old French fries sitting on top of his microwave. The natural sneered and threw them in the trash. Surprised at how much better it looked, she found herself scrubbing the dishes and starting the dishwasher. Wiping down the counters didn't seem like a bad idea either. Then, after she Swiffer swept the floor, she unloaded the dishwasher and put the kitchenware away. By then, the kitchen looked pretty good.

She proceeded into the next room, in turn flipping off the kitchen light. The room definitely looked like the biggest in the house, but it seemed emptier than it should. There was the TV, sitting on the floor, a coffee table, and a tacky orange couch. The windows were shaded and the walls bare with the exception of an empty bookshelf and an upright piano.

The piano stood out in the uncomfortable room. Its wood was a dark cherry and hand carved down the sides and front, sculpting the dark wood into curves and twists like the leaves and branches of a tree. Then above the keys, in white script letters was written `Steinway' then underneath it `New York.'

“This thing is ancient...” Cagali said to herself. She looked down ant the piano and dared to pick up the cover off the keys, sliding it back. One of the keys near the bottom was chipped, but other than that, each of the ivory covered keys was in perfect condition. “Now that elephants are only found in Zoos...” Cagali said to herself, “This keyboard alone is worth a fortune... It's a shame this pretty old piano ended up in such a dirty house. Maybe he has some music,” she wondered, and opened the bench.

There was no music, only a picture frame, back facing up. The natural picked it up and turned it over. It was an old Newspaper article.

LOCAL PIANIST WINS 175 YEAR OLD PIANO

Seventeen year old Nicolas Zala entered the Classical Pianist competition not expecting to win the grand prize of a beautiful antique piano...

The slave read the article in interest, and then smiled, unfolding the frame so it stood proudly on top of the piano. She shut the bench and thought for a moment, and looked again at the article, dated September 21, 1994.

“This thing has to be at least 400 years old... It's probably completely deteriorated.” Cagali hit a key. It rang out, resolute, refined.

The natural sat down on the bench. She never liked piano when she was little and forced to take lessons. No... More like she despised piano. She told her father she'd rather hang out with Kira... So he let her quit. But years later, she began pulling soundtracks off the internet to play on the piano and enjoyed it. Then, after she could sight read all the soundtracks, she asked her father to enroll her in piano lessons again, with a different teacher. And she loved it. She loved piano and the music.

She hadn't played in a while, only a little every other week since she joined the Orb forces. Cagali put her hands on the keys. The piano was tuned, but still sounded old. Old was a good thing. It almost reminded her of her grandmother's piano. Hers had a similar sound, but wasn't near as beautiful. It had ugly scratch marks above the keys from the old woman's long, red, finger nails. Cagali played, taking a moment to forget where she was. Song after song, she lost herself in making the music.

“You play well,” said her owner.

Cagali jumped and spun around. “How long have you been standing there?!”

He smiled, amused and checked his watch. “About fifteen minutes. Not too observant, hmm?”

“I...” started Cagali, turning beat red.

He laughed. “You play well,” he said again. “I saw you cleaned the kitchen.”

“Uh... Yeah”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you thanking me? I'm your slave.”

“I told you that you could watch TV, do nothing, and you cleaned the kitchen.”

“It was bothering me.”

“Understandable” he said, then asked, “What's your name?”

“Cagali, what's yours?”

“Athrun Zala.”

“Mr. Zala, is there anything you want me to do?” Cagali asked.

“Yeah, could you bring me the ownership papers?”

Cagali went from beat red to chalk white.

“You do have them don't you?”

“...”

“Did Dearka give them to you?”

“Yes.”

“Then ...?”

“Garbagedisposaldownthesink”

“What?”

“Garbage disposal down the sink,” she repeated slowly.

“What did you do that for?!” he exclaimed. “You want to cause me trouble?”

“I don't want to be here,” she hissed.

“Never mind,” Athrun Zala sighed, now sounding calm, “Why don't you go to sleep? Tomorrow morning I'll get new papers made.”

Cagali remained quiet, sitting still on the piano bench. She stared at the ground. She had been only acting, but a part of her felt like she was reading her lines as she felt. A moment later her owner handed her a blanket.

“Here. You can sleep on the couch. Goodnight.” With that he turned off the lights in the house and retreated to his bedroom. Cagali closed the keyboard and felt her way to the coach. She lay down and unfolded the blanket. Awake for over twenty-six hours, it had been a long day, first waking up early, then the elongated trip to PLANT, the auction, and finally here, in this coordinator's house. The darkness made her realize just... how tired she was...