You look over the fertile Ferro-9. The sun rises from its distant horizon, like a gigantic eye watching you. Its beams illuminate the dust lanes of the galaxy, and the planet looks as if it's caught in a spotlight. You survey your charges. Men, women and children alike toil under the hot Ferros sun, their bodies glistening with sweat. They bend down, planting seeds in the fertile soil, before using primitive devices to water them. Others gather the plants that grow from the ground and haul them off to where others will strip the plants of their nutrients.
Your favorite slaves are the human women. They have soft, supple skin, large eyes, full lips and long eyelashes. Their voices are like cherry blossoms brushing past your ear on a spring day. Some bear the marks of age and experience, with faint frown lines or crows feet around their eyes. Others are barely into adulthood, with smooth faces and bright eyes. Their beauty captivates you, and you watch them with the eyes of a ravenous wolf.
You call over one of your girl with a whistle.