CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
“In Xanadu, did Kublai Khan
a stately pleasure dome decree…
“Where Alf, the sacred river, ran,
in caverns measureless to man,
down to a sunless sea.”
- Samuel Coleridge
When, only meters from their goal of
entering the harim, the immense
Nausicaan seized her, Parihn stiffened, and prayed that her companions’
reactions wouldn’t betray them.
Xorc’s response didn’t concern her in
the least; he’d seen women in far more compromising positions than having their
breasts fondled and pinched by lewd monstrosities. He might not like that it was happening to Parihn,
but he’d keep himself under control.
Hatshepsut played it well; she gave a
little squawk of fright, and darted behind Xorc—safer there, she knew, than
just about anywhere else right now.
Mantovanni’s answer to her plight was
less understanding.
In but an instant, he took a step
forward, seized the guard’s left thumb, and gave a particularly vicious little
twist.
On his knees, whimpering, the Nausicaan
was even shorter than her.
His five companions, though, weren’t…
and they didn’t at all take kindly to “Tiny’s” plight.
Daggers were drawn, and disruptors
loosened in holsters. Combat was imminent, and even a victory would mean
attention that would likely end whatever chance they’d had of escaping with
Aedra… or even alive.
I knew
you shouldn’t have come along,
You might have just gotten all of us killed.
An hour before, Luciano Mantovanni had
been adamant.
“You two,” he’d said, pointing at the
women, “are not going down there.
Xorc and I can handle this alone.”
Parihn had predicted this particular
stance, and had prepared her counter-arguments carefully.
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense... and you know it, sir.
“I’m Orion, and Xorc is Kaylar: It’s far more likely that he and I together
will attract no attention within the
palace grounds. If we’re fortunate, we’ll be able to move about freely.
“As a matter of fact, it’s you who should stay here, and keep the
He made as if to counter, but she
pressed on before he could begin.
“Down there, you’d be the greatest liability, Captain—since Hatshepsut,
properly attired, would easily pass for a higher-echelon courtesan. No offense,” Parihn had added hastily,
upon realizing the comment’s possible interpretation.
The Felisian’s only response had been
an amused, gently trilled, “None taken.”
Everything she’d said was reasonable…
and it had moved him not at all.
“No. That’s final.”
His voice had taken on that crack of
command that let all and sundry know that he would brook no further challenge
on the matter.
This time, though, Parihn braved his
wrath, and defied his wishes, because she knew there was no choice. She
gestured to the others, and they moved politely into the cockpit, leaving her
alone with him.
“No,” she insisted. “It’s not final.”
His eyes narrowed… but Parihn faced his
dreadful scowl with a determined little glare of her own.
“If anything,” she continued, “this is my mission. Aedra’s my friend, my
protégé… my responsibility… and while
I know you think I’m yours…” Parihn
swallowed hard at the double entendre she’d unintentionally employed, “…I also
know you’d never stand idly by while
someone you cared for was suffering.
“Neither shall I.”
Her vehement persuasion hadn’t fallen
on deaf ears, but he also hadn’t indicated whether his position had changed:
The mask had still in place.
She’d realized she might never reach
him that way.
Parihn’s expression had then softened,
and she’d fervently whispered, “
“I’m going down there… and we both know it.”
When she’d smiled, it had been
bittersweet.
“And yes,” Parihn had then murmured, eyes downcast.
“I know you’re going, too.”
Not for the first time in her life,
though, Luciano Mantovanni surprised her.
“Hey…” he snapped at the paralyzed Nausicaan.
“Are you a paying customer?” When he
got no response, he loosened his grip slightly, and added a taunting,
sing-song, “Well?”
“N–no!” his victim gasped.
…surrounded by a quintet of pointing,
laughing Nausicaans.
“Then keep your meat hooks off, fang
face. You’re costing me money and time. She’d better not be bruised, or I’ll make sure your master takes it out
of your pay… and your hide.”
He grabbed Parihn’s arm and yanked her
up the corridor.
“Come on, you vapid wench. The sooner
you’re out of here, the better for all of us.” He gestured back with his other
arm, and Xorc took similar charge of Hatshepsut.
She couldn’t believe it. They were past
six sullen, bruising Nausicaans… and they’d neither fired a shot nor shown an
ID. Parihn wondered if he'd planned it that way from the moment the creature
had touched her.
Practically scampering to keep up with
him, she whispered, “That was very go–…”
Her voice trailed off when she caught a
glimpse of his face. Its cast was iron, and Parihn realized he was straining
for control at having seen her callously pawed.
Simultaneously, she was touched he so
cared… and annoyed he’d reacted that
violently to such a minor incident.
Good thing you weren’t around on one of my more eventful days,
Or, another, gentler part of her corrected,
it would have broken his heart.
Her cynical self had the last word,
though.
Then, again, Parihn… we’re not out of here yet.
You might still have a chance to see which.
***
Aedra Anari had slipped ever further
and more deeply, over the 11 days of her captivity, into an altered state of
consciousness, a chaotic stew of agonized lucidity and something a doctor or
psychologist would probably call sensory delirium.
Any Orion slaver who’d dealt in green
animal women would have recognized what was occurring. Eventually—the rapidity
depending on their native strength of will, intelligence and sensual nature—it
happened to all of them.
She was losing herself… and her point
of no return was nearly at hand.
The young officer had served Ran
Imaldris’ purpose admirably… and, after that, had been promptly remanded to the
custody of Hrolak, the Orion charged with smoothly running the Dionysian jhakadi—the nearest translation was
“fleshpots”—and providing amusing, if vulgar, distractions for privileged and
poor alike.
Since then, she'd served Hrolak's
purpose; and, if anything, his had been even crueler than Ran's.
One man—one among so many that she'd
lost count—was atop her, inside her,
while another waited, and commented.
Aedra was just aware enough to
understand what was being said. Dimly, she saw the man whose turn was upcoming,
and focused on his voice.
“–s not a very good dancer, but…” and
he gave her a lewd grin, “…when you can move like that—even if it is on your back—you don’t have to dance well.”
She was, of course, more aware of the other man. He wasn't
very impressive a specimen… but he was certainly energetic, laboring with an
enthusiasm that more than compensated
for his shortcomings… driving her towards…
Wha–?
Then, as she had so many times in the
last week-and-a-half, Aedra became momentarily, but fully, aware of where she was… what she was doing… and began to struggle.
Her defiance ebbed and flowed… but it
mostly ebbed: Aedra's attempts at opposition had diminished in frequency and
duration with each passing minute… each relentless hour. Nine days ago, near
the onset of her ordeal, she'd severely injured more than one man in her
determination to escape what was happening to her. For a while, her prospective
partners had been… leery.
There were other, gradually lengthening
times, though, that, to her cloying degradation, she hadn't fought at all—had,
in fact, been eager to participate.
This was the first sign of resistance
today—a day that had started more than four hours and 17 partners ago, and
would continue until consciousness deserted her.
She thrashed her head, and moaned,
“Please… don't.”
Her current assailant didn't even
pause… her ascent towards climax continued, and warred with a flagging will.
It was a valiant if abbreviated
struggle.
Then, resolve yet again lost in the
sheer ecstasy of coupling, Aedra Anari spoke once more.
This time, though, what she said was,
“Please…
“…don't stop.”
Interlude Three Interlude Four