Potternob placed electro-static bands around our wrists as he lined us up for emission to the slave market. We would, he reasoned, fetch an excellent price as human beings are extremely rare in this universe because none have ever visited before. Carol Richmond was holding back the tears with admirable restraint as Potternob riffled through a rack of revealing outfits. He was trying to decide which would enable her to fetch the best price at auction. I considered mentioning that a sludge mine worker in a belly dancer's costume would be unacceptable and that I could advise the mine's human resources department on drafting a business dress code.

"You will only be sold to the sludge mines if you fail to sell at auction" explained Potternob, reading my mind. "From past experience of the slave auctions you will wish you were in the sludge mines when your new owners get you home."

"What will they do?" I asked. He gave us several bullet-pointed examples.

"Dammit, Butch, I'm a freelance mineralogist not a contortionist" cursed the consultant John. "And I operate a strict one-way system at all times."

Potternob led us into the cage, Carol Richmond now dressed in a gold-trimmed bathing costume of inappropriately scarce nature, and told us we should enjoy our last moments of freedom.

"Dammit, gypsy, I want a cigarette" snapped John. "The condemned man deserves at least that much."

"But John" I explained, "You will recall that smoking causes a variety of cancers as well as numerous other diseases. It has been linked to premature heart-attacks and kills millions of people around the universe every year. In the twenty eighth century it is a preventable cause of death that is second only to auto-asphyxiation. Every time you smoke one of those things you shorten your life by up to five minutes. Besides, smoking is only permitted in the smoking room and you can be disciplined for doing so elsewhere on an INNER ship."

"Dammit, Butch, we're about to be sold as slaves on an alien world and either die in a slime pit or be molested to death by a space monster. One cigarette isn't going to do me any more harm" he bellowed.

"As it happens, I'm with Maitland on this issue" said Potternob. "Smoking is a disgusting habit and one I wouldn't want to be seen to encourage in my vict... clients."

"Dammit."

 There was nothing else for it but to put my thinking cap on and come up with escape stratagems. I am extremely good at thinking on my feet and outside the box when I'm under pressure. The ideas came thick and fast and I was sure one of them would prove a success. I made a mental note to add an actual note to my quarterly performance review pre-assessment consultation report so my quick thinking was recorded for posterity. Assuming, that is, that I would live long enough to have another quarterly performance review consultation. I formed the first idea into a workable scheme but was interrupted by Potternob.

"Pah - I am waterproof, human weakling" he snorted. I considered plan B.

"Foolish scum - I have never even been to Morocco."

He dismissed each and every operation module that I could come up with with a wave of his hand, a derisive sniff or a brusque comment.

Plan C - "My sister is of too good a character."

Plan D - "You don't even have a horse let alone a wooden one."

Plan E - "I too have seen that episode of the Jetsons."

Plan F - "Only a fool would try to tunnel his way out of a ship hanging in the airless vacuum of space.

Plan G – "Don’t be absurd – I am a scoundrel and therefore in no sense above bribery or corruption."

I was about to consider Plan H when I realised what he’d said.

"You mean we could disentangle ourselves from our current entanglement with a simple remuneratory transaction?" I asked.

"Of course – providing you have enough of what I want" he replied.

"May I take a few minutes to consult with my crew? INNER has strict rules about authorised expenses and I would need one of them to counter-sign the cheque."

"Very well" he sighed, clearly appreciating that I now held the upper hand in our negotiations even if he technically held my hands in a pair of electro-static handcuffs.

Minutes of the SS Pioneer Staff Meeting

Date : the 28th Century

Present : Captain Maitland, Carol Richmond and the Consultant John

Apologies : Engineer Fingers

Agenda

1. Minutes of the last meeting.

2. Bribing the space genie and buying our freedom.

3. Post-freedom cut-backs to balance the ship’s budget.

4. Any other business.

Minutes

1. Held over until the next meeting.

2. CM suggested we offer PtSG the Pioneer’s entire stock of minerals. TCJ objected saying he cared more about the minerals than anyone apart from CR who he intended to marry when they get back to Earth. CM noted TCJ’s objection but said he placed the safety of himself and the entire crew ahead of TCJ’s unhealthy love of minerals. TCJ wished it be minuted that he is a freelance mineralogist and not a strangely perverted minerophile. His love of minerals is purely platonic. CR joked that this was better than it being plutonic and we all laughed apart from TCJ who doesn’t think humour and minerals go together.

ACTION POINT – CM to review the budget spreadsheets and, if necessary, use the Pioneer’s INNER-sanctioned credit card.

3. If bribery is successful the ship’s crew will be required to take a 5% pay-cut, the staff social club will not now be redecorated, the Pioneer’s in-house radio station will cease transmission, TCJ will be re-hired as a full member of the crew as it is cheaper than using him on a consultancy basis, a charge of two shillings per book will be introduced in the ship’s library and CM will consider further economies as required. Redundancies cannot be ruled out.

ACTION POINT – CM to speak to F about possible career opportunities outside the Pioneer.

4. AOB – CR to arrange F’s leaving party.

Next meeting –

Chair – Captain Maitland

Minutes – to be determined (subject to selling into slavery)

Dear Diary

The staff meeting under our collective belts we were once more at the mercy of Potternob and his avaricious intentions.

"How much do you want for each of us?" I asked by way of opening the negotiations.

"Ten million credits for the rock man" he began, pointing at the consultant John. "Fifteen million for the female human and three million for the dwarf"

"That covers John, Carol and Fingers" I said, "but what of me?"

"Hmm – tricky" he replied, "with you I’d either start the bidding at one micro-credit and see if it took off or I’d bundle you with one of the others and make my profit by doubling the postage charge. I suppose you might fetch more if I can get someone to autograph you…"

"I… I… I…" I stammered. "I’m worth more than that. I have qualifications from the University of Central City. I am a Rotary Mason. I’m the local representative of CUCMUNCHER."

"What off Earth is CUCMUNCHER?" he asked, somehow ignorant of the most powerful trades union in the universe.

"It is the Certified Union of Captains, Mineralogists, Undertakers, Navigators, Co-Astronauts, High-priests, Executives and Regulators" I explained. "I’m not a militant by nature but if you deny me my basic right to dignity in the work place I may be forced to convene a strike ballot."

He laughed in my face. I mean literally in my face. He had been eating spinach for luncheon and it was most unpleasant. His triumphant aroma only lasted a few moments however as his celebratory cries were interrupted by a loud and ferocious roar. Bearing down on Potternob, and by extension myself and my crew, was a huge and terrifying robotic man type creature.

"This time I really think it could be the end..." I announced bravely.