There was a rack of what appeared to be rare weapons too. Dark studied them with interest. There were antique blasters, a limited-edition plasma rifle and several others he couldn’t identify. There was one especially that caught his eye—a double-barreled, silver hand-held projectile weapon that had two triggers, one white and one black.
“Got to be careful with that one,” Gorn grunted, noticing his interest. “That’s a rare Synthian aging pistol, that is. Either trigger can end you in a heartbeat, pretty boy. You’ll either be so young you can’t think or so old you can’t remember any damn thing. Either way, you’ll be pissing your pants!” He roared laughter as though it was hilarious.
Dark nodded mechanically. “I see, Master.” But his attention had already turned away from the Synthian pistol because he had seen what he was here for.
In the center of the huge room, on a small podium about waist-high, was the Shannom-rah. The milky white, hand-sized crystal was shot through with rainbow veins of every different color. It shimmered like a living pearl on the black velvetex cushion it was displayed on.
Dark tried not to look at it but his eyes kept getting drawn back to it. So this was what the Knower was after—and what the Kindred of the Mother Ship were desperate to keep out of the evil AI’s hands. It had been owned by his old Mistress, Hellenix, but she had never let him see or handle it. He only knew she had paid an exorbitant sum for it, and that Gorn presumably had as well when her assets were seized and went to auction.
Gorn’s ponderous tread caused some of the lighter and more delicate pieces to shift and clatter against their wooden shelves but they had been well placed and none toppled over.
“This here is my trophy room,” the Trollox explained, throwing out a hand to encompass the objects in the room. “Some Trollox like to display the heads of their enemies in their trophy room—me, I saw that’s fuckin’ barbaric. I keep my heads in my fuck chamber, real quiet-like. These here is the real trophies—they proves I got the cash to do what I fuckin’ well wants and fuck everybody who says I can’t.”
“Yes, Master,” Dark said mechanically, since some reply seemed to be required.
“Glad you agree, pretty boy,” the left head said and guffawed again, as though it had made a joke.
Dark kept his face blank. It was better to pretend emotionless incomprehension of his new master’s sense of humor like a true Replicant, he thought.
They were just leaving the “trophy room” when he saw the strange face again and this time he saw the rest of her too.
The pale face belonged to a girl—humanoid girl, not a Replicant, he was certain because of the fear in her eyes when she caught him watching her. She was wearing a long, flowing black robe that hid her entire body except her hands and face and she had a long waterfall of thick, auburn hair that fell to her lower back.
But it was when she turned her face away from him and showed her profile that Dark finally recognized her.
High on her right cheekbone was a dark, purplish bruise. It marred the pale loveliness of her skin like a dark spot on the sun and it made her instantly recognizable.
The girl—that’s the girl I saw in my dream!
The recognition hit him like a fist in the gut and the connection he felt to her was so immediate that Dark almost went to her at once. Only the sound of Gorn’s left head talking saved him from blowing his disguise as an emotionless Replicant.
“Oh, there you are girlie,” the left head growled—plainly talking to the girl. She tried to duck out of the way but the Trollox’s huge hand reached out and grabbed her flowing robes, reeling her in before she could protest.
“M-master? What can I do for you?” Her soft voice trembled as she looked up at the huge Trollox towering over her. She looked tiny next to him though Dark estimated her to be almost six standard feet tall—a decent size for a female. By her accent, he thought she might be an Earth female like the ones he had met on the Kindred Mother Ship.
“Saw you lurkin’ in the shadows there, girlie,” Gorn told her, leering down at her in a way that made Dark’s hands knot into fists.
“I was only curious. Please, Master—let me go. I won’t bother you while you’re busy with your guest,” she begged.
“Guest? Can’t you tell a Replicant when you see one?” the left head demanded and the right one hissed, “Stupid girl!”
“A…a Replicant?” the girl faltered. “Forgive me, Master. I have never seen a male Replicant before.”
“And you ain’t seen one now either!” the left head exclaimed. “Go on, pretty boy—show this little breeder how you ain’t no true male.”
He gestured at Dark’s trousers and, much to his disgust, Dark saw that his new master wanted him to open them and show the girl with the bruised face what he had shown Gorn at the auction.
Of course, he had no choice but to comply. Doing his best to keep his face blank, he unfastened the black leather trousers and pulled them open, showing the prosthetic skin again which made his crotch look smooth and sexless.
“See?” Gorn’s left head chortled. “He ain’t got nothin’ there, girlie! Nothin’ you need to be feared of, anyways.” Glancing at Dark, he said, “This little breeder’s afraid of cock—can you believe it? Maybe because she’s too small to take a decent sized one in her pussy.”
“A serious failing in a breeder,” the right head remarked disapprovingly.
“Ah, shut it,” the left head growled. “I told you, she’ll stretch.”
“And if she doesn’t?” the right head demanded. “If we can’t plant our seed? How will we ever have a son and heir?”
“Shut it,” the left growled again. “Not talking about this with you right now.”
“Later then,” the right head hissed and slumped into sullen silence.
“Put your pants back on,” the left head said, motioning to Dark, who was only too happy to comply.
“Yes, Master.” He fastened the trousers, covering himself decently once more.
Gorn looked down at the girl with the bruised face, who was still staring at Dark with confusion in her eyes.
“See now? This here Replicant is pretty boy. He’s here to cook and guard the house while I’m out. So don’t get any funny ideas about runnin’ off when I’m gone next week.”
“No, Master.” She shook her head quickly, her eyes wide with fright. “Can…can I leave now? Please?”
“Suit yerself, girlie. But its time for a new stretcher soon,” the left head growled.
Her face got even paler. “So soon? But you just—I mean, I’ve only had the last one for a few days.”
Dark wondered what they were talking about. Whatever it was, it must be upsetting the girl greatly. Even from where he stood, he could feel the pain and fear radiating off her like heat from an oven.
“Gotta get you ready,” Gorn replied implacably. “I can’t wait forever to plant my seed, see?”
“Of…of course not, Master,” the girl faltered.
“Go on—I’ll find you when it’s time.” Loosing his grip on her robe, Gorn let her go free.
The girl fled at once. With on final look over her shoulder at Dark, she ran down the corridor, rounded a corner, and was gone.
The left head muttered something that sounded like, “Fuckin’ breeders,” and then the huge Trollox turned to Dark once more.
“Well—that’s it, the whole tour. You’re not likely to have trouble while I’m gone. Mostly nobody but delivery people shows up, but look sharp anyway. It’s known that I have the most valuable trophies in these parts—I wouldn’t want some bastard comin’ in here while I’m gone and tryin’ to lay hands on ‘em.”
“No, Master—I will protect your house and valuables while you are gone. You can rely on me,” Dark said automatically. But inside he was thinking of the girl with the bruised face. Who was she and why did he feel such an instant connection to her? Would he see her again or was she going to hide for the rest of the time now that she thought he was a Replicant a
nd not—as she had probably hoped—someone who could rescue her from this hideous place?
Is he really breeding her? The thought sickened Dark as he looked up at the thick, heavy body of the Trollox and the massive bulge in his rough trousers. What the fuck would a Trollox want with a human female? It wasn’t like their species were remotely compatible.
Then again, he only knew about Trollox cuisine—he had no idea about their reproductive systems or sexual habits. Maybe Gorn had just taken a liking to the poor girl because she looked like the red-headed Replicants he appeared to prefer to fuck. But if he had them, what did he need her for?
So many thoughts swirled through his head as Gorn led him back to the kitchen—none of them remotely pleasant. That poor girl—he had to help her somehow. Had to save her—
What are you talking about? whispered a little voice in his head. What about having no time to deal with females? What about everything you went through with Mistress Hellenix? Are you suddenly ready to erase it all and fuck up the entire mission for a girl you don’t even know?
But I do know her, he argued with himself. I saw her in my dream—that has to mean something. And it wouldn’t hurt the mission to help her too—I’m sure it wouldn’t. No female ought to be stuck here with that fucking Gorn molesting her.
The thought made him sick all over again. Poor little female—Dark knew as many males did not, what it was like to be taken against your will sexually. Mistress Hellenix had used him more than once that way and though he had tried to forget it, the dark shadow of his old Mistress’s abuse still lingered in his mind. But even so, Mistress Hellenix had been petite—tiny. The things she’d done to Dark had made him feel angry and emasculated and helpless, but he’d never feared for his life during their encounters.
The girl with the bruised face was so small compared to the huge, crude Trollox. Just the thought of Gorn laying a hand on her—or doing more than that—made Dark’s fangs grow long and sharp and his hands clench into fists.
Forget it, he told himself. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Pick your time and place. If you move too soon, you’ll jeopardize the entire mission. For now, the kitchen is where you belong.
It felt wrong not to go after the girl at once but Dark knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t let anyone—not even her—know that he was anything other than a loyal, obedient Replicant only here to cook and guard the house and its valuables.
Later—he would try to make contact with her later. Then maybe he could think of a way to get her out of here. For now, he had to do his job.
It was all he could do.
Chapter Four
Anna hid in the farthest bedroom under the hanging bed skirt that fell from the high mattress to drag the carpeted floor. It was dusty under there but she didn’t care—all she wanted was to get as far as possible from the monster who had bought her. All she wanted was some time to think before he started doing horrible things to her again.
She turned her mind away from Gorn and thought about the tall, dark haired Replicant instead. He was tall and muscular and handsome…and not what she’d thought he was at all.
I thought he was the one—I thought he could help me. But he’s just a robot—just a Replicant like the rest of them.
Still, it was odd that she’d dreamed of this particular Replicant. She remembered his strange, bronze eyes, fringed thickly with black lashes, clearly from the many dreams she’d had of him. She’d been having them almost from the moment Gorn had first bought her and brought her here.
The dreams had been all that kept her going—kept her hoping. And now her last hope was shattered. Her savior—the one she’d been sure would come and rescue her from this living nightmare—was no more than another robot.
He’ll probably end up like the last Replicant who was supposed to be a cook, Anna thought and shuddered. She remembered the scene at the dinner table—Gorn always insisted she have “Last Meal” as he called it with him. He had ordered something called “bile bladder stew” or something equally horrible sounding and the Replicant had brought him a huge tureen of yellowish-brown soup that smelled like liquefied garbage to Anna. Then again, all Trollox food smelled foul, so she didn’t know exactly what was wrong with the dish.
Whatever it was, it enraged her captor. He had broken the tureen over the hapless Replicant’s head. The Replicant—which had been a copy of some alien species with three arms and four eyes—had just stood there blinking as the foul-smelling liquid dripped down its lumpy face.
But breaking the soup bowl hadn’t been good enough for Gorn. He had torn the Replicant limb from limb, its bright pink blood spurting everywhere. The Replicant blood looked like Pepto Bismol to Anna—the pink liquid medicine her mother had given her when she was little and had an upset stomach.
She had sat at her place at the other end of the table, afraid to move, watching as her captor raged. The pink blood mixed with the yellowish bile stew made a terrible mess of the fancy dining room he always insisted on eating in. It was horrible—made even worse by the idea that someday he might do the exact same thing to her. Anna could just imagine her own crimson blood spraying everywhere as he ripped her apart—angry that she couldn’t do what he wanted, that she couldn’t give him what he desired…
Stop. Don’t think about it. Don’t.
She shifted under the bed, trying to block out the thoughts and her fears for the future—trying to be present in the moment. The spreader inside her gouged her angrily as she moved but strangely, that helped. She could focus on the physical pain of the cold metal which never quite warmed up inside her, could concentrate on her discomfort instead of thinking about what might happen to her soon.
At least he’s going away for a week, she told herself. A whole week without him! No new spreader every night! I won’t have to stand him touching me…testing me…
But those thoughts too, were not to be contemplated. She shifted again, trying to take her mind away, trying to think of the past, which was the best place to live now.
If only she could see her mom again! If only she could talk to her stepfather Brex—she would tell him he was right. She would swear to be more careful. She would…she would…
“Oh, girlie?” The loathsome sound of Gorn’s left head calling for her, cut into her memories.
No…no… Anna moaned silently to herself. She’d been hoping and praying that her captor would forget about her, that he would get busy admiring his fancy collection of artwork or go out to get drunk with his friends, which he often did.
“Girlie—come out now. Don’t make me hunt you down.” The grating voice was getting closer.
Shouldn’t have come out to see the Replicant with the bronze eyes. Should have stayed hidden!
But she’d thought the new Replicant was more than a robot—thought that he was the one she’d been dreaming of. It had seemed worth the risk…at the time.
“You know I always find you,” Gorn growled and now he was right outside the door—Anna could hear him. She squeezed herself into a tight little ball, feeling sick, wishing she could be invisible. No matter where she hid, he always, always found her. He could always smell her out.
The door creaked open and then she heard his heavy footsteps thumping on the carpet. He was in the room with her. Suddenly the bed skirt flipped up and two sets of glowing eyes—one piss-yellow and the other blood-red—glared at her.
“If you make me drag you out it’s gonna be worse for you,” the left head snarled.
“He’s right—come out, stupid girl!” the right one hissed.
“Please!” Anna curled herself into a tighter ball. “Please, I can’t take a bigger one right now! I’m not even used to this one yet. It hurts.”
“It’s gonna hurt a hell of a lot more if I shove my cock in you and you not open enough, girlie,” the left head snapped. “Now get out here or there’s gonna be trouble!”
Whimpering, Anna crawled out from under the bed. Before she was even all the way out, her captor
had her by the back of her gown and was dragging her up to glare at her.
“Don’t go hidin’ from me girlie—you know I don’t like that,” the left head warned.
Then he dragged her down the corridor—to his own bedroom.
Anna closed her eyes and tried to blank her mind.
Over soon, she told herself. Over soon, it will be over soon. Just don’t make a sound—you know how he hates that. Over soon…over soon…over soon…
Chapter Five
Dark stopped his prep work for a moment and lifted his head, listening. Had he heard something? Some soft cry? Or was it his imagination? He waited but the sound wasn’t repeated.
Shaking his head, he went back to dicing blood root for the dinner he had planned that night. Being his own sous chef took time but he didn’t mind—it wasn’t like he had much else to do around here except guard the Shannom-rah until the replica of the priceless crystal was delivered to him.
He got the meal prepped and started and then looked around for other tasks. His mind went naturally to the girl—he didn’t even know her name. Was she all right? What had Gorn done to her? He wished he could get the awful possibilities out of his head but they wouldn’t go.
Well, since he couldn’t help her yet, what could he do to make her life more bearable until the two of them could get out of here?
The answer came to mind at once—he could feed her. Her face had a shadow of plumpness, as though she’d once been an Elite—a female blessed by the Goddess with extra bountiful curves. But there was a hollowness to her eyes and cheeks, as though she hadn’t been eating well lately. Not surprising since Trollox food was disgusting and he couldn’t imagine Gorn being considerate enough to get her something different.
Going to the cold storage unit, Dark looked for anything a human might like to eat. He had only spent a few weeks on the Mother Ship but, as always, he had been interested to learn everything he could about a new cuisine. So he had managed to pick up a few recipes in his short time there.
Deceived Page 4