The Beast - Nastragull, Book 5, Chapter 1 & 2

 Description  

As Alexa and her friends struggle to escape from a moon-sized habitat in the lawless Gala system, the universe's major powers are gearing up for total war. Marengo, the largest and richest inhabited planet in the universe, is under blockade. Tens of millions have already died in border skirmishes between Florencia, Nastasturus, and the organized pirate clans. Then there's Alec von Hornet's independent Section 21, anchored by the militant Grisamm Order and disenchanted elements from all the other powers.   

 After surviving the most horrendous torture ever devised, Alec was forced to accept Alexa's tragic death. Those experiences, combined with the universe's voice in his head, have him teetering on the edge of madness. Now Alexa has been reported alive. Torn between duty and love, Alec begins his transformation into the dark, malevolent entity that posterity will someday call… The Beast. 

 

NASTRAGULL:

THE BEAST

  Book 5

 by

 Erik Martin Willén

 In memory of my father,

December 22, 1926–May 9, 2018

 

Bad policy from weak politicians lies at the core of why some people become racist in their constant search for scapegoats.

-- Erik Martin Willén 

Chapter 1

 

            At long last, Alexa and her companions were on the verge of escaping the enormous, lawless space station, the Lucky Scavenger. For the first time in a long while, everyone -- her Nastasturan military escorts, she and her fellow Vixens Nina and Tara, even Myra, the ex-pirate, seemed relaxed, almost happy; perhaps there was a light at the end of the tunnel after all.

            There was, as it happened, but it turned out to be a hovertrain.

            A sudden concerned expression appeared on Major Kona Bree's face, and a startled glance at his wrist-comp caused him to curse. "Dammit, we just lost Sergeant Roni! They're onto us."

Bree sent a brief message to his sole remaining troop, Corporal Nikla Dora -- knowing full he was violating protocol, since anyone might intercept the transmission and trace it to their current location. While he and the others waited nervously for a response, Alexa's best frenemy and former commander, the large Saurian pirate called Myra, ambled over to Alexa and nodded for her to prep for departure. Alexa ignored her, looking towards Major Bree for his orders.

            "Alexa, undock immediately," he concurred.

            "What about Dora? We can't just leave her behind!"

            Bree turned and glared at Alexa with a stern expression. "You, my lady, are this mission's highest priority -- and we must leave now. I'll make sure someone comes back for the corporal when I can, but for now, we need to go."

            Bree was just about to say something more when another bleep on his comm snagged his attention.

            "Wait, listen up. It's from Dora; she's sent an emergency message, but she... nothing, nothing more... wait, here's the last message."

            Major Bree looked sadly at his wrist computer, which was lit up with a single word:

Run!

 

Major Bree's face bore a curious expression as he read the message. Then he smiled, and it wasn't a friendly smile at all. "Undock immediately, Alexa," he repeated. "Time to exercise the better part of valor."

"What does that mean?" Nina wondered, looking quite concerned and a bit nervous.

"It means we run and hide while we still can, that's what it means," Myra growled.

"We're just going to leave Dora behind?" Alexa asked incredulously.

"YES, Gulldammit!" Bree shouted. "We'll return for her when we can!"

"By your command," Alexa said, shaking her head, not liking the idea leaving anyone behind. But she did as she was bid, entering the emergency release code that blew the docking clamps free. She immediate activated the ventral thrusters, lifting off the docking cradle inside the massive docking bay.

"Sure we can't wait for Dora?" asked a querulous voice.

"No, Nina, we can't. Alexa, get us the hell out of here."

"Tara, give me a hand with navigation control, will you?" Alexa requested.

Tara slid into the appropriate workstation and asked, "But where to? The easiest way out is to leave the way we came -- and both Zuzack and Zoris are waiting for us."

"Then the only way out is through. Go deeper further into the station. Maybe there's another exit," Myra suggested.

Alexa nodded, and began a slow crawl through the docking area away from the entrance they'd arrived through. No one pursued them as they looked for a new place to hide, dock, or exit; but the farther they advanced into the station, the narrower the docking area became, and the more difficult it was for her to maneuver.

With help from Tara, she zigzagged past dozens of ships, most of them smaller shuttles. The faint yellowish and bluish light from thousands of windows in the habitat area that walled in the docking area gave the region they flew through a florescent appearance; it was surprisingly beautiful.

A double-beep from her station indicated that someone was hailing them, and seconds later, an obviously computer-generated voice warned them that they were about to enter a restricted maintenance area and were required to turn around.

"Ask it for the nearest exit, and sound apologetic," Myra suggested.

Alexa did that, and after a brief wait, a blueprint popped up on a holoimager in front of her, a bright yellow line tracing a different way out. She plotted the new course and laid it in, taking them through many large corridors, past parked ships of all sizes, including a few nice yachts and some sleek speeders. Beyond the docks were the ubiquitous windows, displaying people either in their living quarters or moving along walkways; some of the living structures were toroidal, while others resembled ground-side skyscrapers. There were even balconies, with people of many different species gazing at the ever-changing view. Small andies and speeders zipped along, and occasional taxi shuttles docked to pick up fares. "Wealthier neighborhood," Tara pointed out.

They were guided towards four huge doors that began sliding open to reveal a vast hangar; in the far distance was a bay open to space. There was a dim orange flicker as they entered through a standard atmospheric shield; they could see another at the exit. "Should we go on through?" Alexa wondered aloud.

"What choice do we have? One of their security ships is behind us now." Myra pointed at a radar screen displaying the region near and around the ship.

"Making sure we're going the right way," Nina mumbled, focusing on the invitingly open airlock doors.

"Could be a trap," Alexa advised.

"Only one way to find out." Bree nodded his head forward.

When they were about a third of the way to the exit, the doors behind them closed; and by the time they were in the middle of the enormous hanger, the doors facing them had started to slide shut. "Trap all right." Bree cursed; but before he issued new orders, Nina let out a shout.

"Look, look over there," Nina pointed,"It's Dora!"

Shocked, everyone looked in the direction Nina pointed -- and there, racing along inside a long glass tube, was Corporal Dora, running for her life, occasionally stopping and facing her pursuers long enough to fire a few rounds behind her. Blood stained much of her uniform.

"Hit it and make a break for open space!" Bree shouted. Before Alexa could respond, Bree leaned over her and pushed the accelerator yoke forward, causing the ship to suddenly leap ahead.

"But we can still help Dora!" Nina protested.

Alexa cursed while trying to steer the ship, which was now on a collision course with the closing hangar doors. She realized they weren't going to make it, and smacked the board for the retro and maneuvering thrusters, slowing abruptly and skewing the ship hard to port so that it struck side-on, slamming into the closed doors with a thud that threw those still standing across the bridge to slam into the bulkhead. She scraped the hell out of the starboard side in a short-lived cascade of sparks, but the damage was relatively minor. Activating the maneuvering thrusters again, she wrenched the ship around to face the additional security ships that had suddenly emerged from several smaller exits and were rocketing towards them. The electronic warning system had taken over their comm system, the same obnoxious message repeating, ordering them to heave to for boarding by station security.

Alexa turned off the comm system, muttering, "Screw that." The comm immediately turned itself back on and repeated its relentless message. Alexa snarled and set a course heading straight toward the beleaguered Corporal Dora. By then, Dora had made her way onto a docking platform attached to the side of the station, and now she jumped down onto a balcony of sorts, landing solidly and immediately jumping down toward another platform. She was waving her arms in the air, hurrying towards the edge of the platform. She no longer had a weapon.

"Let's take our chances on the station," Bree ordered.

"Nina, Myra, help Dora onboard and lay down suppressive fire," Alexa shouted over him.

Nina and Myra each grabbed one of the old laser rifles that came with the shuttle, and scrambled toward one of the smaller entry hatches. They wrenched it open to find Dora running for her life, followed by several Tilter dogs and nightmarish creatures that resembled red, furry sharks on tripods. The only things that indicated they weren't animals were the netguns clutched in their hands. On a balcony above were several other pursuers firing at her with energy weapons, their pale beams suggesting they were set to stun, not kill. Myra and Nina opened up with their own weapons, which were decidedly lethal, and took out some of the pursuers in sprays of gore of various colors and seared flesh.

"Hurry, Dora, run like a friggin' meteor!" Nina shouted encouragingly. When Dora realized it was her friends shouting, she smiled and limped as fast as she could towards them, zig-zagging and jinking randomly to make it harder for the security beings to hit her.  

Alexa didn't want to land, afraid they wouldn't be unable to take off again, so she just hovered above the platform. That seemed to work until Dora fell forward and hit the deck hard. One of the red tripods had tackled her, and two Tilters rushed to help. Cursing like the pirate she'd been, Nina leaped out of the ship and hit the deck herself, not realizing that it had been quite a drop.

"NO, NINA, NO!" Myra roared desperately, watching in horror; and then she too jumped after her love.

Shaking the cobwebs from her head, Nina shot one of the Tilters, vaporizing its head; the other rolled away and started to spew its glue mist towards Nina, who lunged to the side while firing again. Myra suddenly appeared and hit the Tilter so hard it flew back half a dozen meters; then she charged the tripod on Dora's back, screeching a terrible war cry. The being barely had time to register surprise before Myra had jammed one of her huge fists into what passed for its forehead, putting it out of commission for a while. Dora snatched up its netgun, shooting it and fixing it in place under a paralysis net. Meanwhile, the surviving Tilter shifted its target to Myra; but that was a mistake, since it left itself open to Nina's fire. It took only a few shots before the canine-like beast was as dead as its brother.

Nina then lay down a suppressive fire against the other tripod pursuers, who immediately took cover, realizing their non-lethal tactics could never work against this sort of resistance. The also knew, from bitter experience, that these mad intruders had a horrible suicide weapon among them: Corporal Dora herself. Stun shots continued to rain from above, but the distance was too far for their shots to be effective; when they did connect, they just burned and tingled a bit instead of stunning.

Nina and Myra were helping Dora back to the ship when a previously concealed entrance opened up, disgorging several battle andies. They had a lot of ground to cover to reach the women, but they moved very fast; and before they were even in effective range, they began trying to take their targets down with stun bolts. Bree stood by the open hatch and lay down cover fire, trying to divert the attention of the andies, while Myra picked up Dora and tossed her over her shoulder while Nina covered their retreat. Muttering obscenities under her breath, Alexa dropped the ship a good five feet so the women could scramble aboard the ship while Bree and Tara covered their retreat from the protection of the hatch cowling with the laser rifles. Alexa took off the moment the hatch began to close. Bree and Nina helped Dora to a seat, while Myra and Tara joined Alexa on the tiny bridge.

"Now where do we go?"

"Dunno, Myra, but we can't stay here," Alexa replied without taking her eyes away from the nav screen and forward ports, trying to maneuver the ship away. Tara took up her station at navigation.

They were in an enormous space, big enough to have its own weather patterns, but that didn't change the fact that they were trapped. A series of bleeps on one of the monitors warned that more ships were approaching. Alexa tapped a button, and a repeater screen showed her two smallish security vessels with white strobe lights approaching, slow and confident. One of the ships landed on the platform they'd just left, and several people and andies started to board.

"Looks like they're going to try run us down and board us," Bree said from behind them, a remarkably obvious statement since the comm system was still blaring the warning to surrender and heave to for boarding. Alexa was ready to shoot the damned thing.

"How's Dora?" Myra asked.

"She's fine, given the circumstances," said Tara. "She has a flesh wound or two; Nina's taking care of her."

Alexa accelerated back the way they'd come, leaving the security ships far behind. Their pilots seemed willing to be patient until they cornered her ship...for now.

"I don't see anywhere we can dock something this size," Alexa said as they approached a residential complex. Many people of many species stood on balconies or behind windows, staring at them; some even waved, while a few raised a cup or glass in salute, not knowing what was going on but still appreciating the entertainment. As they passed, more people began to flood the many balconies and entertainment platforms, filling the glass tubes that connected buildings and sectors like streets in a planet-side city.

The automatic warning cut off. "Now they're hailing us live," Myra pointed out upon a double-bleep from the console. No one lifted a finger to respond to the hail; they were too busy looking for a place to safely dock. One of the residential platforms might have worked if they hadn't been filled with gawkers.

Alexa increased speed and made several daring moves as she darted through and around the city structures, almost crashing once. Her astonishing flying skills made people wave and cheer them on. "I thought I was supposed to be the crazy one," she muttered under her breath.

 "You are, so why don't you just do a damn pirate docking?" Nina called from the rear. Alexa took half a second to glance back. Next to Nina sat a tired Corporal Dora, alive but still gasping for breath.

Bree grabbed Dora by her shoulders and stared at her intently. "Dora. Say again that you did get confirmation on the message Sergeant Roni and you sent."

"Yessir, Major, we did, and I'm not sure how it could have been received so fast, but all codes and security clearings were correct."

"Must be someone nearby with an advanced transmitter or something," Bree muttered.

"How long before we can expect any help?" asked Nina.

Bree just shook his head.

"Screw this! Everyone not strapped in, brace yourselves, this might overwhelm the inertial dampers again!" Suddenly, Alexa swung the ship around and punched it. "We're doing a pirate docking, people!"

"What's that?" Bree demanded, his concern obvious; he was well aware that these young ladies could be impulsive. "What about the station's shields?!" Dora gasped at the same time.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," Alexa assured them, but felt her stomach clench in doubt; did she really know how to do this? She'd seen it done many times, and practiced in simulators... but that wasn't the same as real life.

Didn't matter. She was committed now.

"That's my girl," Myra said, grinning viciously.

"Yeah, well, you guys might want to hold on to something or get strapped in," Nina insisted.

"Too late for strapping in. Sorry, guys, here we go."

"Go where...?" Dora's words trailed off and then were followed by shrieks and screams from the rest.

"Wait! Won't the station's shields destroy us?!" Bree shouted over other.

"Maybe!" Alexa turned the ship straight for one of the larger platforms, damn the idiots on it; and just before impact, she used the nose thrusters to spin the ship a full 180 degrees, so the rear engines jetted their white-hot exhaust towards the thin shield as the people on the platform dashed toward safety. She then hit full reverse, ramming the ship into the protective shield. Meanwhile, onlookers nearby cheered them on like unhinged sports fans.

Myra shouted over the commotion, "Don’t worry, the shield isn't as powerful as the exterior one protecting the station from vacuum!"

Indeed it wasn't. The ship crashed straight through it onto the now-empty platform, scattering a few runabouts and skidding to a halt against the station wall and breaching it. Fire and smoke erupted from the crash site, along with a shower of metal shrapnel and other debris carved off the deck and the ship's hull by the daredevil landing. Emergency force shields slammed over the fractured region and the ship, even as it punched through what appeared to be several apartments, residents running and jumping for their lives as the ship penetrated the building. Eventually, the ship ground to a halt.

"That's that," Alexa said, turning around, realizing that everyone but Myra lay on the ground, sprawled out like a bunch of drunkards. Bree and Dora looked less than happy. while Nina and Tara were laughing their asses off -- of course. Myra stepped forward and gave Alexa a kiss on top of her head.

"Let's take what we can... weapons and some medkits. We'll make up a plan as we go," Major Bree ordered while struggling to get up. He swayed in place, mumbling something about "idiot pirate wenches" before helping the corporal to her feet, and went to work.

They had to blow one of the top hatches to get out, and then they had to struggle through structural debris. Smoke swirled all around them like dank fog. Electricity sparkled here and there; the sounds of falling and cracking debris echoed loudly through the smog. They eventually managed to climb from the ship's hull to the floor above. Below them, they could see the horrific damage and a few civilians looking on like frightened rodents from various apartments. They found themselves standing inside a small but nice suite. Water and other liquids rained down on them, and they could see small fires erupting in other shredded apartments. They silently checked their weapons. No words needed to be said. Everyone knew they had to hide or fight until help arrived, and their chances didn't look very good right now.

Covered in dust and armed to the teeth, they stood in a semicircle, looking at each other, communicating wordlessly with facial expressions and body language. Finally, Major Bree said, "If this is the end... then let's make sure it goes down in history," as calmly as if he were discussing a walk in the park. He then smiled at Myra and said, "Ladies first."

"And everyone says chivalry is dead!" Tara said brightly.

Myra winked and patted him on the shoulder. "For a male, you're all right, Major...you and your crew are all right." Myra smiled toothily at Dora, who was still limping from her injuries, now swathed in a healing patches.

Still grinning, the big Saurian woman took the lead, and the rest followed. They were currently inside what looked to be a large walk-in closet filled with hundreds of garments, shoes, and accessories, apparently belonging to a female. Suddenly Myra stopped, propped her blaster rifle on her shoulder, and touched one of the garments; then she turned her head, looking at the girls.

"What?" an irritated Bree demanded.

"Well, the moment we get to a clear, undamaged area, the station's sensors will most likely pick up our weapons -- and then it's only a matter of time before we have to fight and die gloriously."

"And?"

"Well, Major, think about it. How long can we make it, really, the way we look now? Let's be smart, because soon we'll have those bastards chasing us again. Girls, how about some camouflage? Let's behave like station rats. After all, what do have to lose?"

Alexa, Tara, and Nina immediately understood Myra's plan, while Bree and Dora just stood there, observing as the girls set aside their weapons and attacked the clothing racks.

"Won't station security already know we're here? Our weapons should have given us away by now if the sensors are even half-decent."

"First, no sensors here, Major, it's private quarters. Second, local security forces are handling emergency rescue efforts first if they're at all competent and clean. But once we're out in a public area, the weapons will definitely be detected, be sure of that," Myra said, while looking Dora up and down and then gathering some clothing. "Tara, see if you and Nina can add some fuel to those fires over there," Myra nodded towards the other end of the apartment, where electricity and plasma conduits had sparked small blazes before automatically shutting down. "Alexa, help me pick some clothes that will make us look somewhat like civilians."

❖

The initial ship chase was displayed on enormous monitors scattered across the station. It didn't take long before odds appeared in the upper corners of the screen, and gamblers started to place bets by the millions. The mania spread even to Torq, the planet Lucky Scavenger orbited. The pirate leader Barishka -– sister of Zuzack, Alexa's adoptive father –- watched it with great interest on one of the monitors in her lavish office. On another monitor was Zuzack. She glanced at him and asked, "You're sure she's on that piece of crap? The Black Prince's bride?"

"As sure as you're my sister. Her name is Alexa. I made her my daughter. Can you believe this is how she repays me?"

Barishka rolled her eyes and muttered, "Knowing what you do to your 'daughters,' yes." Louder, she said, "Perhaps you should let the whole universe know that she's here. After all, there's an enormous bounty on her head, and on those of some of her friends, I see." She tapped her finger on another screen, which listed the details of the various bounties offered by the Federated Traders.

"If I did, it might attract Nastasturus," Zuzack growled.

"So what? Aren't we protected by Florencia? Besides, there have been no reports of any Nassie fleets near us."

"I would much rather catch Alexa and then contact Zoris. After all, her bounty is the largest."

"My goodness, brother, you do have a brain after all."

He scowled, twisting his hideously scarred face into a horror mask. "And we don't have to worry about the competition. After all this, the Gala system's crawling with bounty hunters, not to mention all the ones down on Torq."

"Yeah, I can't really argue with that."

He looked away for a moment, and groaned, "Ah, shit..."

"What, Zuzack?"

"Zoris's ship is hailing me. It's probably the old bitch herself. I'll connect you up too, sis, under cloak -- she doesn't need to know about you." He reached toward the screen, apparently to tap an icon, and the view split in half, Zoris's image on the left, Zuzack's on the right.

The old clone clucked, "Tell me, Zuzack, is it my property you're chasing? What a lucky coincidence that I should be in-system, don't you think?"

"My dear lady, which property did you have in mind?"

"Don't be an idiot. Is young Alexa in there or not?"

"We don't have any confirmation on that yet, my lady, but rest assured that when we do, I'll let you know immediately."

Of course, Zuzack knew full well that Alexa was on the Scavenger with Myra and Tara, having seen all of them when some idiot had opened a video channel between their ships when he'd had hailed them. He smiled at his sister, and then his image vanished.

❖

She was in heaven!

Straddling one Oman hunk, she bent forward to allow another to thrust his fierce erection into her anus while a third man, this one a gray-skinned humanoid, forced her to gag on his long shaft. She worked both her hands on the sexual organs of two other species -- one a woman -- standing and observing the scene. Nina could see Tara going down on Alexa while the twins ravaged two mountain guides. Little Zicci was being taken from the front and rear by the prongs of two Xylar, strung up between the tall sentients in an odd way.

Her entire family was there, moaning and screaming in ecstasy -- pain and pleasure alike. But something was missing; she couldn't feel any pleasure herself. Then, suddenly, an overwhelming jolt went through her body, like an electric charge. She turned her head just as Zuzack penetrated her with both his long, thick shafts. He let out a roar of laughter.

She saw Alexa's face staring at her in horror and disbelief; she was screaming at her. Nina saw the helpless expression on Alexa as a throng of armed people engaged in a hellish hand-to-hand melee, intent on capturing them.

Finally, she "woke up" -- only to stare into Zuzack's grim, ravaged face; and then the rat-bastard Hughes was there, forcing her to move forward a monstrous device: an iron seat of some sort, reminding her by a saddle except for the hand-length pole attached in the middle. The saddle was red-hot, but the pole was hotter, white with heat. They forced her to sit down on it, and Nina screamed from the unimaginable pain.

There were many other people in the room now, laughing and taunting her, making bets. In the background, Tara was punched over and over again by Hughes, while two pirates held her arms firmly. Carried by two large saurians, hanging from a pole strung through restraints on her ankles and wrist, hung an unconscious Alexa; behind her stood a mysterious figure wearing a dark cloak. Cloak turned, staring at Nina; and in a chilling voice, demanded, "Where is my prize, my possession, where is she?"

The image of Alexa faded away, and Nina saw that the cloaked woman had fire-red eyes, which glared at her as she -- it -- raised a long, thin, pale finger to her mouth, gesturing silence.

 

Nina woke up for real this time, screaming, "NO, NO, NO, that's not what happened! Alexa, Tara, where are you? Where are you?"

Nina's bed sheets were soaked with sweat and tears. She couldn't move -- and when she realized she'd been tied down again, she screamed even louder. A medical andy hurried to her assistance, speaking in a reassuring voice. She finally realized she was in a hospital bed, secured with restraints to protect her from her own nightmares.

She started to sob as she thought of Alexa, realizing that she had once again let her best friend down, and she began to hyperventilate.

The bed, itself an android, released the restraints, and raised her to a standing position in front of a large window, where she pretended to look out into space from her medical suite. Visible outside were many ships and space stations, and the traffic between them and the construction activity were as lively as ever. She stared without focusing, because she couldn't really see much right now; she was mostly watching boosted holoimages, using a black visor that wrapped around her entire head. The surgeon had told her that she had to keep it on for a while, because her brand-new cloned eyes were still getting used to her body, and vice versa. Her entire body itched terribly, and she thought that would drive her mad if it went on much longer. Most of her body was still swathed in bandages and healing patches, so she guessed she looked like some type of mummy. Behind her stood a second medical andy, ready to assist her whenever she needed it.

Her physical pain was indescribable. Although she had been drugged, it was still there; the medicine only took the edge off, enough so that she didn't scream constantly. Images flashed through her mind from when she had been tortured, and gave her chills. But she had cried enough, she thought sullenly.

It was too soon to tell whether she would ever enjoy sex again, according to her physicians; aside from the psychological trauma, the nerves and tissue destroyed during her torture might never regenerate fully. The thought of it made her sad again. She loved a good fucking, and suspected she would end her life if she could never enjoy one again. But then she thought of the people who had hurt her. Perhaps she would wait until she had her revenge before killing herself. Perhaps not. She was exhausted from all the terror and death.

She heard the door to her hospital room open as someone entered her room. Probably that damned doctor of hers, with more medicine that would make her itch. "Nina, how are you feeling?" said doctor asked cheerfully, knowing full well she was in constant pain.

Nina tapped a control that caused the andy-bed to turn to face him, but didn't answer. She turned off the false images, hoping they would have stimulated her optic nerves to sync up, but she still couldn't see anything but light and shadows.

The doctor continued, "You have some visitors."

Not again, Nina thought. But moved her fingers in a gesture for them to enter.

"I'll leave you with her, but please make it a brief visit; she needs rest," the doctor insisted to whoever had come. Nina sensed that there was more than one person in the room; she recognized the smell of Alec and someone else. Incredible how a major trauma to one sense enhances others, she thought.

A strong male voice declared, "I won't waste time asking you how you're feeling, because I'm guessing you feel like shit. And like you want to murder someone."

That was Alec all right, so blunt and to the point nowadays. He wasn't the warm-hearted person she'd once known. He must hate me, she realized, and started to sob again.

Alec cleared his throat, feeling bad for having sounded so harsh. The person next to him gave him a questioning look. "I brought a friend to see you. This is Cou..."

The person next to Alec shook his head no.

"Um, this is my friend Zanches from Marengo. He's brought his... a physician to help you."

Nina nodded, still sobbing.

A gentle male voice as smooth as silk said, "Nina, I'm Zanches, and this gentleman is Fell. He's an excellent physician, and I think he might be able to help you heal -- if you want him to."

Again, Nina just nodded in consent; it was only when he was mentioned that she sensed another being in the room. She froze as she felt icy fingers move over her skin, wherever there were no bandages. "He's an Aquan, Nina," Zanches said quietly. "He'll understand you, but understanding him is very difficult. One must have a special translator device; unfortunately, it has to be surgically attached to one's neck. But I'll be with him translating, so you don't have to worry about us attaching one to you... I'd guess you've had enough surgery, right? Once our new translators have recorded enough information from his language, they'll do; but it might be some time. Days, perhaps weeks."

Nina gave him a dry smile.

"Well, I'll leave you guys alone. And Nina," Alec leaned forward towards her, "Stop beating yourself up and blaming yourself about Alexa, you hear me?"

It took a moment before Nina responded -- she had to swallow hard before she could get the words out. "Easy for you to say. I've failed her so badly twice now. She's in the hands of the monster that tortured you," she cried out.

"We don't know that for sure, Nina. I guess the other Vixens told you about that, eh?"

Nina nodded sadly.

Alec mumbled to Zanches before he walked away, and then Nina realized something. In her slurred voice, she called, "Wait! Wait, Alec!"

He stopped and turned back to her. "Yes?"

"The girls told me there were prisoners taken during your rescue, right?"

"Not sure how they knew that, but yes, some people were taken."

"Why don't you ask one of them? I mean, Zoris must have had many places where she lived... most wealthy people have many homes."

"But she can have her banquet on her ship," Zanches suggested, "and that ship can be anywhere in the universe."

For a moment Alec had gotten his hopes up, but Zanches' words brought him crashing back to the harsh reality. Then Nina said something intriguing: "Be that as it may...but wouldn't she want guests to see her art and eat her...food? She must send some type of coded message to them;I mean, to her guests or friends."

"Lucy would know," a stern male voice said from the door.

Alec turned and looked his father in his eyes. "That bitch is still alive, I take it?" he growled.

Guss gave his son a sharp glance. "You should be happy she is alive, because now we can ask her where we might find this monster Zoris af Sun."

Fell told them through Zanches that he wanted to be alone with his new patient, and that included Zanches.

Nina's medical bed smoothly moved to the back wall and leveled her horizontal. She heard the others leaving the room, and the metallic thud as the door shut. She then felt the cold fingers all over her body again, examining her. The touch was freezing but very gentle, almost a tickling sensation that eventually lulled her to sleep.

Soon enough, the memories and dreams were back.

 

Chapter 2

A huge woman wearing a veil and a lavish dress (made up of blankets and drapes, but who had to know?) strode regally down a long corridor with the help of a metal cane. The walls of the spacious corridor were bright white, and the floor was also illuminated. Her three young female slaves also wore veils, and were fastened together by a long chain loosely tied around their necks, held by a similarly-disguised Dora. She led the "slaves" -- Alexa, Tara, and Nina -- followed by a male guard, Bree. They tried to brush off most of the dust and grime on their clothing and bodies while walking as casually as possible, doing their best to look like displaced citizens. Bree and Dora carried what looked like batons on their belts, which had in fact once been the legs of a table. The "guards" wore mixed civilian clothing with a few nondescript military accessories.

At first, they hurried down the long corridor away from the apartment complex; but as they approached a monorail station, they slowed. They entered a waiting train; and as the train pulled out and accelerated to several hundred kilometers an hour, a mixed detachment of security officers and pirates spilled out an elevator onto the platform, seconds too late.

"Close call, that one," Bree said, still not liking the idea of being essentially unarmed. They'd had to discard their energy weapons, which would have led their enemies straight to them.

"Relax, Major, it's a good plan. We just need to find a calm region on the other side of the station and check into a hotel."

They took several monorails and lifts, and more than once the residents cursed them, letting Myra know in no uncertain terms that their region didn't care for their type of entertainment or lifestyle. Myra was apologetic, informing one of the non-Omans that she was lost, and asked for directions to the downtown region. The ammet only frowned and stared at her as ze pointed at wall computer, then ze and zir mates moved away, casting sad expressions at the girls.

They finally reached one of the many town squares. It was packed with people, and the noise of many advert screens and local casinos washed over them. There was a faint metallic smell in the recycled air that was normal on most space stations, intermingled with the scents of many different types of food being prepared at nearby restaurants and stands. The commotion was more or less a melee involving a throng of a hundred different species, Omans being just one of many. After a few moments of searching, they found an intact information droid who told them how to get to the slaver region of the station, and about some safe hotels in that area.

No one in this part of the station seemed to have noticed the fighting that had taken place earlier; and if they had, no one seemed to care anymore. There were many different clans and warriors spread out through the crowd, and there seemed to be pretty much only one law governing the place: carrying most weapons was forbidden. Now and then, someone was dragged away by security personnel or androids for breaking that rule. Whenever fights broke out -- and they often did -- people immediately started to bet on the outcome. After the fight was over and money changed hands, everyone went about their business, not caring if anyone was hurt or killed unless one of them was a friend or family. Clean-up andies moved swiftly to the locations of the fights, beeping like emergency vehicles for people to move so that they could remove the trash. Except for that, they didn't see many security personnel, nor any of the pirates who had been chasing Dora. Most people in the crowded stations were civilians, intermingled with traders trying to sell pretty much anything.

After a quick huddle, Myra led them down one of the smaller streets leading out of the square, and they soon found themselves at their destination as the cityscape opened up to reveal hundreds of slave blocks stocked with merchandise of all ages and species. They kept walking until a harsh voice commanded them to stop.

"Now what?" Bree muttered through his teeth.

"Yes, you there! What do you think you're doing?"

"What do you mean?" Myra demanded angrily.

A fat little toad of a being, with a dark, rough voice that didn't match its appearance, shouted, "No merchandise may perambulate freely!"

Myra smiled slyly towards the girls, but all of them gave her no-way-in-hell expressions. None of them wanted to be locked up in a slave block again. "Well, then, I guess we'll be leaving," Myra assured the little toad. They went back the way they came.

"If you need a block for your merchandise, I can sell you one cheap!" the fat little man shouted before hurrying away.

Dora tugged on the loose chain, and then she took the lead, followed by the girls, Bree, and Myra. Just as she was about to clear the side street and return to the main street they had just left, she stopped suddenly. Alexa, Nina, and Tara bounced into each other and then into Dora.

"Shit. Turn around quick, some of the shitheads are here."

The crowd ahead boiled with commotion, and then Alexa recognized Hughes's formerly white Florencian admiral's uniform jacket as he emerged from the fray, pushing people right and left. She quickly lowered her head and scuffled away with the others, only to bump into Bree and Myra. "Hurry," Alexa whispered, and nodded her head over her shoulder. Bree didn't understand, but Myra saw Hughes, followed by additional pirates and security people.

They hurried back toward the slave market, hiding behind a building corner next to the side street. They dared not venture into the slave market as a group, as they might attract too much attention. While Bree and the others remained on the lookout, Myra hurried away, looking for the little toad-man or anyone in charge. It didn't take long before she found a jailer, an older Maurudian who looked a bit bored when he realized that Myra had only a batch of young Oman girls on hand, nothing that interested him. He did sell Myra an older model four-slot slave block, and she motioned for the girls to get seated. It was easy for them to look sullen as they were installed in the block, because that's exactly how they felt. Dora hurried them, removing the makeshift chain; the Maurudian sighed almost sadly when he saw the ridiculous chain that had held the slaves at bay. When he saw that they seemed a bit apprehensive, he cheerfully tossed each of them onto the block, and roughly removed their boots. He locked the device with the help of Myra, then gave them all a puzzled expression. He shook his head and turned to Myra.

"You needa take 'em to a cleaning station. They's a Slave Wash outlet a coupla levels below, over dere." He pointed at an elevator platform, and continued, "They a lot dirty, and if'n you's gonna sell 'em, a cleansing and make-over wouldn't hurt. Ugly little Omans, not worth they credits, I say. An' over dere," he pointed at an office block, "if'n you's gonna trade, sell, or store ya merchandise, I suggest ya chat with dem fellas."

Myra tossed him another coin, which he caught in the air with his tail; then he vanished in the throng.

Alexa sat on the left forward seat of the slave block, with Nina was on her right side. Behind them sat Tara; the seat next to her was empty. Their hands and feet were restrained, making it impossible for any of them to move much. They hated being attached to this hellish device, and their angry expressions only added to the realism.

Myra, Bree, and Dora steered the hovering slave block through the thicket of people. A few offers were made by slave traders, but they ignored those. They took the elevator platform a couple of floors down to the Slave Wash outlet, where a shiny brass andy informed them of the various services offered. Myra glanced at Alexa and smiled. She made her choice, and paid the android, which handed her a thin computer pad and said, "Madam, you can add on services with this pad; or if you're not satisfied, you can re-do whatever cleaning or make-over you wish for your merchandise."

The slave block was attached to a rail on the floor and then slid forward. Two large doors opened, revealing all types of brushes spinning and waving, dripping water and species-appropriate cleansers. Myra winked to the girls and quipped, "See you on the other side, girls!"

Several robotic arms grabbed the girls, unstrapped their restraints, and hung them upside-down. Their clothes were torn away; the girls tried to struggle and object, but the sounds of the throng outside and the noise of the washing process inside drowned out any protests they might have had. The high-pressure water and foam covered them from head to toe, and their eyes grew wide in terror as they advanced toward the brushes.

Bree joined Myra as the big doors closed on the Vixens. "Where's Dora?" the big Saurian asked.

"She's heading back upstairs, trying to see if we're being followed. I don't want her to be near us in the event she's recognized. She'll catch up with us later -- we have these trackers to keep us in contact." Bree displayed a small cylinder with blinking lights on one end.

They heard several sudden, terrified shrieks and curses from the other side of the wall, so loud that the noise made many passersby turn their heads. The screams were followed by hysteric laughter, then more screams and howls. Eventually the sound ebbed as the water sprinklers and hoses came on, making any objections inaudible.

"What was all that?" Major Bree demanded. "Are the girls okay?"

"Yep, wouldn't worry about it. Some parts of their bodies are just very sensitive." Myra gave Bree a mischievous smile; he just shook his head and rolled his eyes. They entered the waiting room of the cleaning station, and through plate-glass windows were treated to a view of what was happening to the girls. Bree stared, astonished at the cruel treatment they received, being tossed back and forth while scrubbed. They were all buck naked -- which he actually didn't mind, since they had the perfect bodies of youth -- and once in a while they slammed into the windows. They were repeated dipped into tanks full of strange fluids, then rinsed off. "What the -- won't they drown?" Bree blurted as he looked on in horror.

"Nah, wouldn't worry about it, they can take it. Besides, this washer is supposed to be safe."

"Supposed to be!" Bree said again, a bit too loudly.

"Might piss 'em off a bit, but then again, they were awful dirty."

There were many people in the corridor outside the Slave Wash, some laughing at the display, some ignoring it. But the Slave Wash did make sure their merchandise was well taken care of, and their patrons better so. There was a small break room with refreshments; the walls were covered with gambling and betting screens, as well as standard slot machines.

"We probably need to change section and quadrant as soon as possible," Myra said to Bree in a low voice.

"Where to?"

"I'm guessing a red-light district. We can hide much better there. Might be a bit violent, but nothing we're not used to."

"Red-Light district? I thought we were in one of those already."

Myra snorted. "This here is a civilized part of the station. You still got a lot to learn, Bree."

But Bree was watching as the girls were stretched spread-eagle by the robotic arms, and moved into different room. He hurried down a long corridor and looked on in disbelief. "This isn't any way to treat Elite citizens," he muttered angrily while glancing at Myra, who was tapping at the computer pad.

"Let's see what else these marauders need," she muttered to herself, thick tongue sticking out of one corner of her mouth. "Yes, definitely mani-pedis, makeup, clothes... what the heck, let's do everything."

Bree protested a bit, but ceased when he realized Myra would only ignore him. She was busy picking out clothes for the girls by then. He moved further down the corridor, and after what seemed forever, Alexa popped up in one room lashed to a bed. It leaned back like a recliner, and several androids proceeded to massage her entire body. She screamed, but the sound couldn't be heard. She didn't look too happy, though. Bree just shook his head and turned away.

"No way to treat an Elite," he said again, thinking of the penalties he might face for permitting this to happen if this ever came out once they were back in safe space. He looked over his shoulder, and now Nina was attached to a similar bed, while Alexa was attached to a metal seat with her mouth and eyes forced opened by several small waldos as they were cleaned. He saw Tara scream as some sort of contraption was removed from her rectum. The metal arms moved her into another room with her wrists restrained with metal cuffs that forced her to squat, her arms in front of her knees, with a metal pole between her elbows and knees. She was then hung upside down while being dried by a huge exhaust port. Her skin color kept changing, washing through the visible spectrum every minute or so, indicating that she was furious. She bore a gag that seemed to be intended to wash her mouth and clean her teeth; she tried to communicate, but Bree couldn't figure out what she wanted to say. He then saw her eyes, and just by looking at them, Bree pretty much understood what she was trying to communicate, and it wasn't anything pleasant.

Myra and Bree moved back outside, and found a refreshment canteen with an "outdoor" terrace on the other side of the Slave Wash. They felt safe enough to remain in public, since they were now in a part of the station far from where they'd entered. They sat down at one of several small tables next to the cantina. The view was awesome; they perched next to an enormous atrium, and could see many levels above and below. Transport shuttles and private craft flew through the gap in long, regimented lines at different levels. There were several green-zones visible on the various levels, filled with trees, grass, shrubs, and flowers. The clean oxygen they emitted intermingled with the odors of recycled air and cooking food, making the place seem welcome and secure.

Myra pushed a button on her seat, and it altered size so it could fit her more comfortably. They kept their eyes on the Slave Wash across the street, as blocks filled with cleaned, beautified slaves exited one at a time, each greeted by their owners. The blocks had also been cleaned, serviced, and repaired as necessary. Some were different from the standard block, so that the slaves sat with their ankles and wrists attached at the same level on a stock-type device. Two other popular models were the ones where the slaves either knelt or stood with their hands tied above their heads and their ankles attached at the bottom; they were less clumsy than the sitting models. "We shoulda gotten one of those." Myra pointed at a standing slave block and a kneeling one. Each could take four prisoners. "They're easier to move around."

"I can't believe there are toys versions of those things, and parents actually allow their kids to play with them," Bree said, shaking his head uneasily.

Myra ignored him. "It'll be a while before they're done."

"What services did you purchase for the girls?"

"I told you before: the works, and bit extra."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Oh, they'll all be looking just dandy once they're finished."

"We need to devise a plan to get out of here," Bree said, concerned not just by their environs but also by Myra.

"I'm working on it... unless you have any clever ideas?"

"Well, there a million or more people on this station, correct?"

"Probably about that," Myra agreed.

"I suggest we check into a hotel and lie low."

"Normally I would agree, but that's one thing I'd keep checking on if I was hunting someone in a place like this. No, I think we better keep moving, or find someplace where we can keep a low profile."

"You mean a red-light district."

Myra nodded, and was just about more to say something when Bree's communicator dinged. He glanced at it. "It's Dora. All seems clear. For now, she'll stay away from us."

"She better lose that tracker if she's captured," Myra suggested.

Bree just raised his eyebrows.

"Ooooh," she responded. "I forgot that nasty surprise you guys have... in your bloodstreams, is it? Nanotech, I bet."

Bree said nothing, so Myra started browsing the computer pad. She placed it on the table, and a holomap appeared of the station. They went over it for a long while, whispering to each other, trying to find a location where they could wait until the heat died down. They were so involved they failed to hear the announcement by one of the service andies that their merchandise was ready for inspection; it had to repeat itself more than once. Eventually, both cast the android irritated expressions.

The andy reached out with one of its four arms for the pad Myra was using. Myra handed it back, and then she and Bree followed it back to the final room at the Slave Wash, which was marked with a huge exit sign. They were presented with three furious Vixens, strung up with arms and legs akimbo. All wore brand-new gauzy harem outfits; they also had new hairstyles and make-up. If it hadn't been for the nasty black gags, they would have looked spectacular. The slave block had also received a makeover, but it still looked a bit old.

Once Myra had inspected the work, the girls were slammed back onto the slave block with the help of more andies and locked in tight. "We'll keep the gags," Myra said, and made her final payment.

"You do realize that if looks could kill, you'd be a corpse by now," Bree mused, addressing Myra while staring speculatively at the three young women. Myra just chuckled.

Bree had paid attention to them before, of course, but his professionalism had refused to let him do more, and he'd been busy trying to keep everyone alive. But now he realized what stunning beauties the Vixens were. "Not sure this is such a great idea, Myra," he noted.

"What?"

Bree nodded to the girls sitting and glaring at them.

"Bah, they're pretty all right, but with the war and all, the market for Omans of all qualities has dropped. There are too many available right now." She nodded towards a huge electronic billboard displaying the current rates for slaves of different species. Pure Omans were usually highly rated, since they were physically unspecialized and could do almost any type of work, on top of being sexually compatible with most sentients; but at the moment, their price was at a historic low.

Nonetheless, as they wrangled the block towards the street, a half-dozen slavers, including two Omans, scuttled over and began to inspect the merchandise. That made Myra snarl at them, and she waved for a service android, which showed up almost instantly. She whispered something to it, and the android hurried away.

"Ah, a feisty one! Look how it reacts if you touch it here, honey, " a middle-age man said to his wife, both of whom appeared to be Oman/Bender crossbreeds. Alexa wriggled helplessly, as much as she could, while the idiot kept scratching the soft, clean soles of her feet. With the gag in place, she couldn't tell him to fuck off. Bree immediately came to her aid, brushing the couple aside. He looked at Alexa, who appeared tired and a bit grateful as she deliberately tried to slow her breathing.

Another shriek through a gag came from the other side of the slave block where they'd placed Nina. He hurried around, but stopped in his tracks. Myra had slapped a child so hard it had slammed into a wall. It was apparently the child of the Bender/Oman couple, and now they'd started to scream hysterically at Myra. She tossed three large white blankets to Bree, nodding at the girls while apologizing to the parents and child, holding up her huge hands in a defensive posture. She finally consented for the youngster to harass Nina while the parents looked on proudly.

Unfortunately, the hubbub attracted others. The party was saved by one of the androids from the Slave Wash informing the harassers that they needed to move away and stop blocking the ramp.

Myra took up her part again, hobbling along on her cane while Bree acted as her bodyguard. He turned on the hover engine, and the slave block left the rail track and moved a bit unsteadily before it managed to level itself based on the weight distribution of the Vixens. They headed towards one of the more distant elevator platforms. Once they were on the street, few paid them any attention, thanks to the blankets they had draped over the "merchandise."

They did attract the attention of a tall, thin Hebian in a dark suit, who gave Myra a business card. "In the event you would like to earn a fortune, my employer will pay you handsomely for a night with your slaves," it rasped, ignoring the girls' protests through their gags.

Myra chuckled and shook her head, but the being was persistent. "I can assure my employer won't buy them, only use them for entertainment; and there will be no permanent damage... just some light torture. The guest we're serving today rather enjoys that, and for some extra credit, there might be some ravishing involved. We have excellent physicians and surgeons who will repair the merchandise after the party, and as I said, there would be no permanent damage. You would be very well compensated."

Bree was just about to render the insectoid's face concave with his fist when Myra brushed him away with one muscular arm. She glanced at the small plastic holocard and then back at the Hebian. "How much are we talking about?"

The fellow motioned its head towards the card, and when Myra looked at it again, a number had appeared. A very large number. She raised her eyebrows and whistled. "Amounts like this are too good to be true. Perhaps your client is one of those infamous Gormé?"

The man's eyes increased in size, and looked as if they were might burst -- a Hebian's surprise reaction, as they lacked eyebrows. It looked baffled for a while. "No, no, no, not that. That is forbidden, even here"

"Forbidden, my ass. You know as well as I do that shit happens all the time here, usually with Omans and Septos as the main course."

"I can assure you that we have nothing to do with that sort of activity," the Hebian said, fluttering his delicate hands. "No station in this system allows it; now, what's happening on the planets I don't know, but I do doubt it. There would have been too many rumors, and I can assure you that there are none." He licked its eyes with a long, thin tongue. "At least think about my offer, madam. This region might be controlled by pirates, but rest assured, if Gormé were allowed here, no one would dare trade with us."

Myra ignored the stubborn man. She knew very well that enclaves of Gormé still existed, and that this was definitely one of those systems where one should be cautious. She motioned her head towards Bree that they were moving out. Before they left, she turned, facing the Hebian. She looked at the card he had given her, and then back at him; then she smiled and said, "I'll think about the offer."

The Hebian gave her a friendly smile, then finally left.

Once they were on their way, Bree contacted Dora. "We're moving. What's your current status and location?"

After a moment what seemed like forever, there a burst of static and Dora answered, "All's well. I'm down on Sublevel 36, Section Four, Second Quadrant. It's a bit wild down here."

"Stay where you are; we'll be there soon. Keep looking for hostiles, and you maintain a safe distance from us."

Bree moved up to where Myra was taking the lead, making sure the slave block had enough room to move forward through the crowd. "Dora's at the location we decided to try," he reported.

"Good. The sooner we get there, the better."

They had to take several elevators and pass through endless corridors on their way. They avoided the monorail system, because it had top-notch facial recognition software, and they didn't want to take any chances in the event their faces had been revealed; and of course, there was also the problem with the slave block. It was clumsy, and people had been giving them fewer friendly smiles as they bullied their way through the throng.

They passed several service elevators, but weren't sure they could use any of them; they didn't have passes like the ones Dora and the late Sergeant Roni had received from a service andy when they'd left on their scouting mission. Myra had more than once calmed Bree with assurances that those passes were superficial and not really needed; it was customary to receive one or more when docking at the station. It was more of a sales gimmick than anything else.

A long line of people was waiting in front of the lift they chose, watched over by several security personnel and guard andies. When the doors irised open and about fifty persons exited, they were scanned by the security force -- and one poor Glimmerpod was suddenly zapped with stun charges. It was dropped like a bad habit. A large ursinoid wearing a security uniform walked over to the being and relieved it of a hand blaster. Then it nodded to the other security people, who tossed the little being back where it had come from.

The rest of the people exiting the lift walked away without paying much attention to the incident; those waiting were even less interested. As Myra's group moved forward, they saw several warning signs that they were about to enter a red- light district, where there were no rules or regulations at all. Myra smiled, while Bree gave the warning signs a more concerned look. As they entered the elevator platform, an electronic voice warned, in several languages, to anyone going downstairs that there were no regulations in that region of the station. They soon arrived and filed out, the stunned Glimmerpod left in the elevator car.

Eventually they reached the location from which Dora had sent her transmission, and Bree let out a low whistle while Myra smiled happily. This was her favorite type of place. A thick mist covered the elevator ramp, and billowed from air vents everywhere as far as they could see. It was dark and very humid. Neon signs by the thousands lit up the main street, which was packed with stores, bars, clubs, casinos, hotels, and every species of spacefaring sentient in the known universe. The smell was generally metallic, with the sharp tangs of dirt and sweat intermingled with perfume and various odors from the many types of food sold from street carts or restaurants, the odors ranging from gag-worthy rotten to savory to spicy according to species preference. Garbage decorated the streets, adding its own scent to the mélange. The noise was almost overwhelming, issuing from huge air exchangers, music, and people talking or shouting. Some communicated with flashing colors, adding to the madness.

People were eating, walking, running, betting on games while standing in front of casino machines and gigantic viewscreens showing sporting events and slave-fights, gambling on pretty much anything. There were different types of races, too, with animals or hovercrafts, speeder pods, and spacecraft, and boxing and knife fights on Torq that drew big crowds to many monitors.

There was some fighting in the crowd itself, but nothing extreme. People were mostly pushing and shoveling. Strip bars, pleasure joints, and massage parlors intermingled with enough independent prostitutes to serve an entire Intergalactic fleet. There were all types of theaters and entertainment places as well, for everyone from the most innocent of children to the most depraved of adults. There were even a few temples, catering to religions ordinary and bizarre. What concerned Bree most was that most people were armed, some with magma or laser guns. He couldn't make out any heavy weapons, and remembered the warning from the security above. This region had no security or any type of enforcement whatsoever, unless they were criminals. The only "security" they could see were bouncers and bodyguards. They saw no scanners at all, but there were, of course, surveillance cameras here and there; most were bashed and broken. A few andies and orbs flew above them, carrying advertisement banners. There were beggars on some of the smaller streets they passed, though they all knew they shouldn't venture into the alleys if they wanted to stay alive or avoid being mugged.

To their surprise, they were suddenly forced to the side by a group of about twenty people led by a security android and an Oman; they were a tourist group checking out the scenery, guide and all. Myra scratched her thick neck, shaking her head, while Bree and the girls only could watch the bizarre group, baffled. Some tourists positioned themselves and had their pictures taken by the slave block.

Myra and Bree took the block with the girls and hurried away. There were several more tourist groups intermingled with the locals. They ran into a few more slave blocks, and outside some stores were the standing types with display slaves attached on them. Some store windows exhibited various types of slaves, sexual devices, games, animals, and more exotic items; however, most of the stores were regular ones, selling everyday things. The buildings were unorganized, some many stores high, in a bewildering array of architectural styles.

They passed several town squares, plazas and marketplaces, as well as other major streets going in all directions. There were many tube trains and elevators, making it easy to get lost or, ideally, to escape. On the level above were several layers of speeders whizzing by, and a few monorails lit only by their white lights as they streaked past. They soon reached a neighborhood where there were several different auctions happening at once -- anything from slaves to spaceships and weapons. Myra nodded to Bree; they stepped behind a decorative column, and weapons and money change owners. Myra purchased several pistols and a few ammo belts with spare charges and clips. She also acquired a handful of sharp knives and a couple of stunners. The salesman tossed it all in a sack that Myra handed to Bree, but not before she'd taken a gun and a knife and hidden them under her clothing. The salesman warned her not to take the weapons upstairs, informing them that his company also provided a concierge service where could store their weapons if they had to return to the more "civilized" regions of the station.

They moved swiftly through the crowd, and Bree looked disgusted as he noticed that there were children running all over the streets, playing without any parents in sight. This place was definitely not a place for any child to be.

Myra stopped them at a smaller courtyard when an explosion occurred as two speeders collided above; they had to hurl themselves aside as flaming debris began showering down. A body barely recognizable as Trazzian hit the deck, followed by the remains of a speeder. They hurried away from the accident and took off down one of the narrower side streets, continuing until they reached a six-way intersection. Each corner of every building supported some type of cantina or restaurant, though the crowd was rather thin here. Bree noticed another small street with a small, octagonal plaza decorated with a fountain containing florescent fluid lighting up the dim surroundings. He nudged Myra.

"Well, if we can't hide here, I don't know where we can," Myra said.

They halted by the fountain, which looked like a starship had crashed into a lake of fire. This was one of the smaller plazas in the region, and was less crowded than most. Bree reconnoitered the place, while Myra sat down on the edge of the fountain, massaging her knees. From the slave block came muffled cries. The girls remained covered in blankets except for their hands and feet. "We need a place to rest... sleep, even," Bree commented as he returned.

"Told you checking in to a hotel isn't the smartest thing we can do."

"Well, we can't just hold here."

"I'm going to do some scouting and see if I can gather some intel if you don't mind. I'll be nearby and back soon."

Before he could object, Myra had walked away. He looked around and found a better location for the block by a building that seemed to be some sort of housing unit. "Don't let them out," Myra's voice came from somewhere behind him.

Muttering, Bree removed the blankets and was met by two furious sets of eyes, in this case Tara and Alexa, that told him more than he needed to know. He received the same stare from Nina, who sat alone behind Alexa and Tara, separated by a thin metallic wall. After a moment, he removed the gags. The girls sighed and smacked their lips, trying to relieve the dryness in their mouths.

"I'm gonna make a rug out of that old hag!"

"Not before me," Alexa hissed to Tara.

"Get in line, bitches, she's all mine. Now, Bree, why don't you be a good man and release us from this contraption," Nina said, trying to sound cute and humble.

"Not sure it's a good idea, miss. Besides, you don't have any shoes. Dead giveaway 'round here."

When some rather kinky suggestions for rewards if he released them failed, that led to a series of bitter complaints, soon giving way to threats; and when that didn't work, they insisted that he was a real man who obviously hadn't had any in a very long time, and offered themselves to be his personal sex slaves for as long as he lasted.

Bree just motioned towards the gags, and all the girls shut up, casting him occasional glares. "Relax, ladies, it's a good disguise," he assured them. "Myra will be back soon, and hopefully she'll have found us a place where we can stay and keep a low profile."

"I know where you can stay and keep a low profile," said a smooth voice. "Let me guess. You... borrowed someone's merchandise?"

The Oman was in his thirties, with pale skin and long black braids that reached his waist. He was dressed in casual, classy clothing, but reeked of cheap cologne, and sported a thin mustache that he kept stroking like a cartoon villain. His half-closed eyes gleamed as he walked around the block inspecting the girls, none of whom would meet his stare.

"Keep moving. Whatever you're offering, we're not interested," Bree told him flatly.

The man ignored him, and again looked the girls over with his hungry eyes. "I gather from their clothing that all three are some sort of harlot, yes? What type of entertainment slaves are they?"

"Just bought them for my line-family's use. They're not pleasure slaves. I told you, mister, I'm not interested."

The man chuckled. "If you say so. But if you change your mind, I have a place right over there." He pointed at a door located at the corner of a rundown building before continuing, "And we sure could use a few new dancers. The pay's good, and if your merchandise does extra labor, then of course there's a standard fee."

"I told you..."

The man raised his hands in a defensive posture; he was a head shorter than Bree. "I doubt you belong to any faction yet, my friend, and if you don't it's only a question of time before one of the local gangs is all over you. Trust me, working for me is much better."

Bree was just about to make another denial when he saw Myra hurrying towards them. He gestured to her, nodding at the stranger. "Why, what's this? Someone interested in my little darlings?"

"I was trying to talk to your friend... husband?"

Bree interrupted, "Who was just about to tell him that they're actually pilots and not entertainment slaves."

Myra held up her hand, gesturing for Bree to shut up, even as the Oman suddenly changed his posture, and gave the girls a quick glance. "Pilots, you say... worth a fortune because of the war and all, yes?"

Myra nodded, observing the change in the stranger, and confided, "We disguised them because we don't want to get mugged."

He replied with a more serious voice than before, no longer trying to do a sales-pitch, "Like I said before, it's not safe here. I overheard you guys say you needed someplace you could lay low."

Myra cast an irritating look at Bree, and at the girls when she realized the gags had been removed. The man continued, "I was warning him about the clans and fractions down here."

"What about them?"

"Well, if you're independent, then trouble will come looking for you. Eventually someone's going to rat you out, and you can say bye-bye to your merchandise."

"There are auctions everywhere. Why would I bother listening to you?"

He shrugged. "You need to head back up to the top floors if you're planning to sell. Down here, all sales go through a clan or gang."

"Well, I'm not selling; and besides, I've heard that the Wulsatures rule this system now."

The braided man snorted. "That's only partly true. They're in charge on Torq, but they can't be everywhere... and they don't have control over all of local space. They definitely have no control over the larger stations like this one, and trust me, there are over a thousand of them scattered through this system, most of them orbiting Torq."

Myra and Bree whispered to each other for a few moments and the man kept his distance, standing next to the girls. He inspected them in detail, very curious. Then he said in a low voice to himself, "Pilots, huh?" When he reached Nina's side, she gave him a seductive smile while wetting her lips with an even more seductive tongue. He reached for her chin carefully. He raised his eyebrows, observing the big Saurian and the Oman talking. Neither paid him any attention. He looked back at the slave's beautiful eyes. He stroked the side of her head, where she'd been branded with the image a beautiful beast of some sort that had also been tattooed, so that it appeared three-dimensional. He was very intrigued by it. He let his fingers follow the outlines of the brand. The slave leaned her head into his hand, purring at his gentle touch. He moved his finger towards her lips, and suddenly she attacked him with her lips and tongue, caressing his index finger hungrily, first with her eyes closed; but then she opened them, making sure she was in control. Her lustful moans made the Oman raise his eyebrows, and something else too. She bit down on his finger, not too hard, but that made him remove it from her mouth. Nina made a mock attack with a grinning face, trying to bite him, and then she growled hungrily.

"Wow, you're a lively little kitten, aren't ya? That little love bite might have given me a bruise, girlie. Then what? I guess your owner would have to punish you? Thought you lassies were pilots?"

All the girls ignored him but for Nina, and in the most seductive voice possible, she whispered, "Come closer, stud."

The man leaned nearer her, but still held his distance, and Nina continued, "That's all right, handsome, I do like being punished...by the way, could you scratch my nose?"

Not knowing what was going on the other side but having been forced to listen to Nina, Tara and Alexa turned their heads towards each other and frowned. "Here she goes again," Tara said in a normal voice, not trying to hide what she said.

Myra immediately caught on, and hurried to the slave block. First, she gave the Oman an angry look, and then she turned to Nina, whom only winked at her.

Nina snarled at Myra, "Scratch my nose! Come on, bitch! Could someone scratch my poor nose? Anyone? Gulldammit, you're all a bunch of sadistic pricks!"

Nina's demand was interrupted by a gag shoved into her mouth by Myra. Instead of scratching Nina's nose, she brushed her hand across the top of her head; and then she petted it hard, ignoring the girl's muffled protests. Nina's eyes widened, staring defiantly at Myra, smoldering with anger.

While gagging the two other little sunbeams, Myra said, "My personal security here told me about your offer, Mr...?"

"Balek. My name is Balek, only Balek."

"Well, Balek, I'm Sula and this here is Flint. What Flint lacks in street-smarts he makes up for as personal protection." She looked the short Oman over, and from what she saw, combined with all her years as an experienced pirate, she knew she couldn't trust him; but they did need a place to lay low. "Let's say we do need a place to stay, away from any unnecessary registrations, as you overheard from Flint."

Myra glanced again at Bree, less than happy, before dismissing him to face Balek. She wasn't going to offer him any credits, fearing that he might try to make more by reporting them to whatever authorities might exist on this miserable habitat. She decided a simple lie would be the best. "I had a partner, and we had a falling out..."

Balek raised one of his hands for her to stop. "Say no more. Your story is your own, and none of my business. Why don't we talk over at my place? I might have a proposition for you." He motioned to the entrance at the street corner. Shrugging, Myra followed Balek inside; and after a while, she emerged and directed Bree and the slave block to another, better-hidden service entrance further down the plaza. Balek met them at the double doors, which led to a freight elevator that took them down several levels. The door opened to a vast room as large as a hangar, filled with supply crates and a few empty slave blocks. From a room farther down came the sizzling sounds of a kitchen and billows of steam. It felt damp, but the smell from the kitchen was wonderful.

A few service andies moved around in the room on their assigned tasks, with an older guard andy standing stationary but prominently on one wall, only its glowing green eyes moving as it scanned the room. Monitors decorated several walls and the larger piles of crates. Some bore inventory lists whilst others displayed games, gambling, movies, or news. "Don't see many people here," Bree said over the noise.

"I have a few live employees," Balek said. "Cheaper with andies, and better, because they never complain and can work more or less all the time... while we mortals need breaks."

"Why are you doing this for free?" Bree asked tightly.

Balek stopped and turned towards him, "Free? What do you mean, free? We've made arrangements, Sula and I." He nodded towards Myra and then towards her slaves. "Pilots my ass. You can take that story to someone else; I know entertainment slaves when I see them."

Bree's eyes widened; in a way, what the idiot had said was deliciously ironic, as the girls were, in fact, primarily pilots... but to gainsay him would break their cover. Besides, before he could speak, Myra intervened. "We have a good accord here, and while our merchandise will do some work, you'll remain here and guard my assets, while I make sure we can depart in a day or two," she told Bree.

Bree opened his mouth the protests, but Myra gave him a glance that said, simply, "Don't." Yep, I'm definitely getting court-martialed for this one, Bree thought. Making an Elite citizen serve as a prostitute... He cleared his throat. "What about the gags? And shouldn't we let them lose for a while to get something to eat?" Bree gave Myra an accusatory stare.

"Don't worry about that. I'll have my wife see to it, and you needn't be concerned about security." Balek nodded towards the security android.

Thus reassured, Myra and Bree left the girls in the slave block and followed Balek up a spiral stairway. The guard andy moved silently to a point near the girls and stood there, electronic eyes tracking around the circumference of its head as it scanned the hangar.

Meanwhile, Alexa sat helpless with her feet secured in holes, her wrists held to her sides by perma-leather straps. She hated this fucking contraption, and already had cramps in her legs, arms, and ass. Lucky, they hadn't hooked up the anal hose or force-fed her. She was surely going to open up a little slice of hell on Myra when this was done, especially for that Slave Wash crap... but she'd been the one who protested least against this idea of them masquerading as slaves, because it was a good one. Scanners trying to ID people always disregarded slave blocks. She wriggled her toes and fingers, which she couldn't see because of the device she was attached to, hoping desperately to get some blood into her feet and hands; but if she wriggled too much, the air cushions around her wrist and ankles tightened.

She relaxed, then looked up at one of the monitors -- and froze in terror, staring at an old picture of herself. It was a bounty poster, and the reward offered for her capture alive was enormous.

 

Author Page: https://www.bhcpress.com/Author_Erik_Martin_Willen.html
Source: https://www.bhcpress.com/Books_Willen_The_Beast.html