A man sat in the dingy bar, doing his best to ignore the other patrons around him. His focus was the center of the sphere of zero-g atmosphere in front of him. Ardons VI was known for its bars, its bars were known for their patrons, and their patrons were known for their "rare" cargo. Some of that cargo was writhing in the center of the viewing sphere, doing its best to be noticed.

Orion animal women were said to be the one of the few commodities in the galaxy that no man could resist. Three of them were twisting and dancing in the center of the arena, offering a glimpse of their full abilities to the eager patrons of the bar. Already, several small purple laser lights were coming down from the private booths around the viewing area. As the girls caught each light, they slowly gravitated toward the patron in the booth for a "private dance." The old man toyed with his laser, almost tempted to use it. He'd spent a month on this miserable planet, establishing a reputation as a gambler and trader with a generous supply of latinum. Purchasing some company was also one of his reputed "pastimes."

He tugged lightly at the neck of his shirt. The outfit he wore was casual, but deceptively efficient. His muscles were hard under his shirt, his face set with hard lines, his eyes sharp and fierce. He sipped his drink slowly, waiting for his "usual" He wasn't long in waiting; she emerged from the slave hole right on time. Orion women were trained to dance as early as age seven. This one had shown high intelligence and her master had begun her training at 5. The man had been soliciting her company for almost his entire length of stay, and had become quite familiar with her history.

In Orion terms, she was a prime commodity, with both zeal and professionalism. In Ferengi terms, she was a property new enough to have a novel markup, yet experienced enough to ensure quality equity. In human terms, she was a talented gymnast for a girl barely thirteen.

It made him sick to watch any of them; however it broke his heart to watch her. She bore a passing resemblance to one of his daughters, and seeing her in this condition tore at his sense of right and wrong. She dutifully ignored the lights of the other patrons, doing as both her master and he had instructed. Her master's instruction was to drive up the price offer. His instruction was to guarantee her service. He counted off the seconds in his mind and turned his light towards her. She spotted it instantly and glided with grace and practiced ease up to his booth, causing dissatisfied grunts from a booth elsewhere in the bar. It took her only a few moments to reach his high perch. He preferred the upper booths, where the music was reduced from a mind-numbing pounding, to a mere annoyance. Now they could talk.

"You wish me?" she asked playfully, knowing full well he always requested her specifically.

"I do," he said, smiling. He held up a padd and she pressed her thumbprint against it. She was now his for a short time.

"Do you remember our last meeting?" he asked, sitting back and motioning out of the booth for more food and drink.

"Yes. Before I sleep I do what you say. I remember most of what you said," she replied. Her language skills were higher than most Orion girls. Slaves, as a rule, were not to be educated. The man had appreciated her mind as much as her body the moment he saw her. He'd been careful to let his search be discreet, but now it was paying off.

"Good girl," he said trying not to sound too doting. He procured his padd again, and again she pressed her thumb against it. "One more," he offered, nearly crushed to see the delight in her eyes at having time to rest. Slaves danced, and slept; occasionally they ate. They were worked hard and took any time to rest as being more precious than latinum.

A waiter brought him his usual order and set it on the table, casting a glance the girl's way. He leaned over to the man as if to inform him of the contents of his order. "If you desire others of her...status...I can accommodate you for a reasonable price," he said and smiled knowingly.

The man smiled back and held out his hand. The waiter passed him an isolinear chip which, the man suspected, contained the waiter’s "wares" and their prices. He made a note to himself to see to this man's arrest personally.