While other trustee crew bosses supervised the Forum monument projects, Iblis Ginjo received orders to process a load of arriving slaves. These captives had been freshly harvested from Giedi Prime and brought to Earth by order of Omnius. The work boss groaned inwardly, suspecting that the cymeks would want to build another enormous monument to celebrate the Giedi Prime victory, too, and his crews would have to build it. . . .

Erasmus supposedly had his eye on one female in particular, personally selected for him by the Titan Barbarossa. Iblis had read the documentation, knew that the new batch of prisoners might be an unruly lot, considering where they had been captured.

As the disheveled and disoriented slaves were herded off the space transport in dirty clothes, Iblis perused them with a trained eye, considering how to segregate them to work assignments, a few artisans, a few skilled workers, most of them mere slaves. He separated out a muscular, mahogany-skinned man for assignment to the Ajax pedestal project, smiling encouragement to him, then dispatched others to crews that required more manpower.

One of the last to emerge from the ship was a battered woman who, despite the dark bruises on her face and arms and the weary shock in her expression, carried herself with pride, showing internal strength in every movement. This was the one for Erasmus. Trouble.

Why would the robot be interested in her? He would probably just vivisect her anyway. A waste. And a shame.

Iblis called to her, but she ignored his gentle yet authoritative tone. Finally, with some rough encouragement from the guard robots, she stood in front of him. Though only of average height, the female had striking lavender eyes, amber-brown hair, and a face that might be pretty if cleansed of grime and anger.

He smiled warmly, trying to reach out to her with a little charm. “The records say your name is Serena Linné?” He knew full well who she was.

Iblis stared into her eyes and detected a spark of defiance there. She held his gaze, as if she were his equal. “Yes. My father was a minor official in Giedi City, moderately well-off.”

“Have you ever worked as a servant before?” he inquired.

“I have always been a servant— of the people.”

“From now on, you serve Omnius.” He softened his voice. “I promise you, it won’t be so bad. Our workers are treated well here. Especially intelligent ones like yourself. Perhaps you could even aspire to a trusted, privileged position, if you have the intelligence and the personality for it.” Iblis smiled. “However, wouldn’t it be best if we used your true name . . . Serena Butler?”

She glared at him. At least she didn’t deny it. “How did you know?”

“After capturing you, Barbarossa inspected the wreckage of your vessel. There were many clues aboard. You are fortunate the cymeks never needed to interrogate you in further detail.” He glanced at his electronic notes. “We know you are the daughter of Viceroy Manion Butler. Were you trying to hide your identity out of fear that Omnius might use you in some sort of blackmail scheme? I assure you, that isn’t the way the evermind thinks. Omnius would never have considered such a thing.”

She raised her chin defiantly. “My father would never surrender a centimeter of territory, no matter what the machines do to me.”

“Yes, yes, you’re all very brave, I am sure.” Iblis gave her a wry smile, meant to be comforting. “The rest is up to the robot Erasmus. He has requested that you be assigned to his villa. He has taken a particular interest in your circumstances. That’s a good sign.”

“He wishes to help me?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said with a hint of humor. “I’m sure Erasmus wants to talk with you. And talk and talk and talk. In the end, it’s quite likely he will drive you mad with his famous curiosity.”

Iblis instructed other slaves to clean and properly reclothe this female, and they followed the trustee’s orders as if he were a machine himself. Although her mannerisms exuded hostility and resentment, Serena Butler did not waste effort on pointless resistance. She had a brain, but her intelligence and spirit were bound to be crushed before long.

The routine medical check, however, revealed a surprise. She glared at Iblis, trying to maintain her defensive wall of anger, but a glimmer of curiosity flickered behind her odd lavender eyes. “Are you aware that you’re pregnant? Or is that just an unfortunate accident?” From the way she reeled, he saw that her reaction was not feigned. “Yes, by now it appears about three months along. You must have suspected.”

“That is none of your business.” Her words were hard, as if she was trying to maintain her hold on something stable. The news seemed to be a greater blow to her than all the rough treatment she had endured since capture.

Iblis made a dismissive gesture. “Every cell in your body is my business— at least until I deliver you to your new master. Afterward, I will really begin to pity you.”

The independent robot would no doubt plan interesting experiments on her and the fetus. . . .