by L A Warren
Four other men cloaked in white tunics scurried as they moved around the room checking holographic displays, adjusting knobs, and carrying flat pads in their hands. At a far door, two women stood still, one dressed in green, the other in yellow. Elise's eyes widened when she saw them, feeling an odd kinship with them. They wore shimmering gowns of a flowing silk-like fabric which fell to the floor in cascading waves of color and light. A corset, laced in the front, shaped each of their waists and pressed the swell of their breasts upward and outward. Each wore a golden necklace with a large crystal dropped low to snuggle within their cleavage, and a single silver armband encircled each of their left arms.
She met their eyes and knew two things. While a kinship connected them to her, they were somehow less than her. They broke their statuesque poses to give deferential nods, almost a bow, as if acknowledging the feeling. Beneath Lord vlor’Vardhal's stare, she made her way to the red circle in the middle of the room. Her stomach heaved with the fear of what might be involved in getting processed by aliens.
Chapter Three
Gambit, Day 1
Alone and vulnerable, terror swept through Elise, ripping her apart from the inside out. Alien humans surrounded her in a sterile white room. She'd been forced to stand in the center of a red meter-wide circle. Not exactly an alien lab table, but then the Vendel weren't quite alien. Hulking goliaths garbed in black guarded the doors. Four men in white tunics appraised her with clinical eyes. Two women, who somehow shared an inexplicable kinship, looked on with supportive and gentle, but ultimately unhelpful, eyes. And there was the High Tender, a dispassionate man who'd ushered her inside the red circle to await processing.
"Remove your clothing, shoes, and accessories," one of the men in white said. "Earrings, rings, necklaces. Everything must go."
His words made her spine stiffen. "No." The word spilled from her lips with indignation.
A worried look from the woman in green, and the sudden alertness of the High Tender, had Elise rethinking her response. Perhaps this wasn't the time to make her stand.
The braklav moved.
"All right. Damn it." She kicked off her shoes. Under her breath she muttered, "Fucking Vendel bastards."
The braklav spun.
Her fingers fumbled at the buttons of her shirt. Her head whipped up and her eyes latched onto the silver blur. "Just give me a fucking second."
The High Tender's lips set into a grim line as his head shook side-to-side. The braklav continued its spin, but at a slower, more menacing pace.
Elise stripped in front of her audience as her eyes focused on the blur. She yanked off her blouse and her pants quickly followed. She placed her mother's necklace and wedding ring on top of her clothes. She took off her earrings and patted her hair down to make sure all had been removed. Hugging herself, she tried to hide, but all she could see was a blur of silver.
He arched a single brow.
She shivered as she stood in the middle of the red circle in her underwear.
"Remove everything," he said in a cool detached tone that she was beginning to recognize meant business.
She glanced at the people, none of whom seemed interested in her half-naked body. Even the goliath men lining the walls looked on with bored expressions.
As she regarded the cold eyes of the High Tender, she hooked a finger under her bra strap, released it, and slid a strap off one shoulder. When that failed to raise an eyebrow from any of the men, she slid the other strap off the other shoulder and then dropped the bra with a defeated sigh onto the pile on the floor. Her panties joined the stack next.
The High Tender examined her from head to toe as if she were an object.
"Enjoy the show? Freaking pervert." Anger coiled in her belly and erupted as heat bloomed in her cheeks.
Her instinct was to cover her nakedness with her hands, but pride kept her fingers tightly fisted and locked to the side of her legs. She met his gaze and held it.
Dear God, but she trembled. Her toes curled against the cold floor. She bit her lower lip to keep her jaw from shaking. Didn't work. Any moment tears would spring forth, but for now, the nails digging into her palms, and her teeth biting into her lower lip, provided enough distraction to hold that treacherous sign of weakness at bay.
The High Tender gestured the woman in green to come over. The light rustle of her gown preceded her arrival. She and Elise locked eyes and the woman gave a look of commiseration. She retrieved a single bobby pin Elise had missed and tossed it onto the pile on the floor.
Two of the men in white came over and removed her possessions. Elise followed them with jerky eye. Her mother's wedding ring was in there. Would she ever see it again?
They opened a large clear door along the left wall and placed her things inside. The door shut and a light flashed. Nothing remained. All her earthly possessions destroyed in the blink of an eye.
She hated these people.
Standing naked and alone on an alien spacecraft, among enemies, completely vulnerable, she should crumble and admit defeat, but that was not the girl her grandfather had raised. Levelling her chin, she faced the four men in white who approached en masse.
It took every bit of strength not to flinch as they descended on her with odd devices in their hands. They worked as a team, poking and prodding, measuring and testing. After their exam, they brought shiny white bullet tubes forward and injected her with what she hoped were vaccinations and not something more noxious like that infernal love potion the emperor had inflicted upon her. Even now, a part of her wished he were here to help her through this—and that didn't make any sense.
Once the men finished their poking and prodding, the woman in yellow brought a gown similar to the one she wore. Rather than a corset, Elise was given a belt of golden links to cinch around her waist. The neckline scooped just below her collarbone, but where the front of the garment was reserved, the back most definitely was not. It fell low to her waist, leaving most of her back bare, and barely covered her hips.
The lady in green knelt before her and offered two yellow slippers that reminded her of something a ballerina might wear. Elise had no mirror but had a pretty good idea of what she now looked like. She was grateful the emperor wasn't here to admire the result, and that thought brought an uncomfortable heat to her cheeks. That she cared what he would think shamed her to no end.
One of the men went to the High Tender. "My lord, we are finished. She may be placed within the general population."
"Very well, but first I must dispense a lesson. Clear the room."
Elise didn't have to be a genius to know this was a bad thing. Her stomach clenched, but she curled her fingers into fists, trying desperately to be strong. Gregor wasn't here to stay the High Tender's hand like before.
The room cleared of personnel and her heartrate doubled.
"I instructed you to avoid profanities."
"Forgive me, High Tender Marcus, I forgot myself."
"Obedience," he said, "is it such a foreign concept?" The braklav snapped into the palm of his hand. "I would suggest you kneel."
Elise considered begging for forgiveness, but one look into his darkened eyes said her plea would be worthless.
"Emperor vlor'Malita asked me to go easy during your collection and so I held back with the braklav, but he is not here to interfere now. Our lords do not understand the importance of the initial steps in training. And since he already feels the bond growing between you, he is sensitive to your pain. It was a mistake I will not repeat."
Her gut clenched. She dropped to her knees within the center of the red circle, looking up at the High Tender as he walked around in a slow circle. His boots struck the cold floor, causing her to flinch with each of his steps. When he stopped, she trembled. The fabric of his uniform rustled as his arm lifted, and while she couldn't see the cool metal of the braklav, she imagined it well enough. Somewhere deep within her, beneath the shaking of her body, a burning core of anger flared.
It died though,
as an explosion of pain and agony raced down her nerves with the first touch of the rod. Her throat opened up. A raw scream tore loose from her lungs, fanning the flames of her hatred for this man.
He touched her again with that merciless stick. A press to her breastbone and pain rippled outward, traveling to her shoulders and down her arms. White hot, a bolt of surprise, she could only respond with a gasp. He touched her thigh and stinging nettles dove deep into her flesh, diving into the muscles until bone breaking pain ripped a screeching protest from of her lungs.
She howled with the twist of the braklav on her belly. The cold tendrils spreading inside presented a sensation so foreign, at first it didn't register as pain until she collapsed, writhing on the floor, blubbering and begging for him to please, please, please stop.
"You're hurting me." Tears streamed down her cheeks with her pleas for mercy. She curled in on herself, hiding from the rod, but his booted heel pressed inward and his strong arm forced her back to her knees.
"Yes, it hurts, Ten-two, and it will hurt again and again and again, until you learn to obey and submit to our ways."
A bolt of pain to her back had her jerking away from his touch. Her teeth chattered as the pain pummeled at her again. "P-please!"
The rod traced down her neck, turning her skin on fire. She screamed out and bit her tongue. Seconds stretched to minutes as pain travelled along her nerves.
Her screams echoed against the cold white walls, bounced back, and reverberated in her mind. He touched her with the braklav, gave her time to recover, only to repeat the process over and over again. Her sobs and pleas fell upon his uncaring ears.
There was nothing tender about the High Tender's punishment. There was no anger in his touch, no emotion whatsoever, as he applied the braklav to her skin.
When she moved away, he hauled her back to the center of the circle, or worse, herded her there by prodding her with the stick.
Endorphins released in her body, turning her skin slick with sweat. They did nothing to numb the pain. Her shivers intensified and heightened her sensitivity to his touch. Scalding heat melded with freezing cold until she could no longer differentiate the two sensations. Even the embrace of numbness brought an agony she couldn't process.
"Stop, p-please." Her voice scratched her throat raw.
He zapped her with electricity and a screech tore through her lungs, followed by a defeated sob. That rod touched her again and again, tracing out every nerve on her body until she sobbed on the floor in an incoherent, blubbering mess.
Minutes stretched to eternity until time lost all meaning.
A small part of her died in that room. How she survived, she had no idea, but she vowed never to forget another one of the High Tender's commands.
Then suddenly, the pain stopped. One moment it filled her world. The next breath it vanished.
A voice boomed. "High Tender vlor'Vardhal, was I not clear?"
It took many long minutes until she regained control over her breathing to find the strength to look up. It was him, the other bastard in her life, only now he came as a blessed savior. She could kiss him, but she wouldn't.
Gregor's looming form stood near, grey eyes no longer pale but stormy, dark, and ominous. "I said be easy with her. The moment I leave her alone with you, I find her subjected to Tender Training?" He yanked the High Tender away by the scruff of the neck and pulled him to one of the far walls. Gregor's arm lifted and pointed to where she huddled on the floor. "You will break her before we even begin. Every one of them is precious!"
"Disrespect drips from her tongue, Sire. I'm teaching respect." High Tender Marcus shrugged out of Gregor's grip and straightened his shirt. "This is my domain, not yours."
"And she is mine, not yours."
"She has yet to survive Activation," the High Tender said.
"She will survive."
"You get ahead of yourself, Sire."
"And you step far out of line."
"I serve you, as I serve all of Vendel, as should you above your desire for this woman." High Tender Marcus pointed the silver rod at Gregor's chest. "You must control it!"
Gregor dropped his chin to his chest. "I am in control. Don't ever doubt that. Now leave us."
"I will escort her inside."
"No," Gregor said with the authority of command. "You will not. You've done enough damage. I must undo what you have wrought."
"Tsk," the High Tender spat. "There is no room for compassion here. We don't have time to coddle them."
"Leave!"
The High Tender jumped at Gregor's shout, but he said no more, only turned and exited the sterile white room.
Gregor approached Elise, his voice level and calm. "My poor opés, did I not warn you? You must obey the High Tender." He extended his hand.
Elise stared at the proffered appendage. She hesitated to accept his help, because she didn't understand it, but no way would she fail to obey again.
His well-muscled hand encased hers, the electric shock she'd come to expect on skin-to-skin contact with him pulsed between them, as did the tide of rising arousal. Since she'd been expecting it, she was prepared. For the first time, she managed to shuttle the erotic thoughts of him to a side-corner of her brain. The thoughts and feelings were still there, active, but not in control like before. Her mind was free to tend to the task of dealing with the Vendel emperor.
Gregor lifted her to her feet with minimal effort.
Oddly, after all the torture, her body moved without lingering effects, like none of it had ever happened. She clung to Gregor, if only because she desperately needed some form of human contact. He wasn't the person she would choose, no one would willingly seek shelter in the arms of a mass murderer, but he hugged her to a chest with a solid heart beating beneath it. His warmth radiated outward and that was what she needed more than anything else. The contact of another human, someone who sought to shelter and protect her, who didn't wish her harm. In an odd turn, he was the solace she needed.
"Come, opés," he said, and headed toward the far door. He pressed a pad protruding from the wall and spoke into it. "Lord vlor'Ates, you may return to your duties now."
The door through which she had entered spiraled open. The four men in white tunics returned and went right back to work at consoles around the room, as if nothing had happened. Several women cowered in the tube behind the men. They'd heard her screams. Their pale faces held wide, fearful eyes. The clothing they wore identified them as being from Earth.
Survivors.
Elise didn't want to know what they saw when they looked at her. She couldn't face the mirror of her defeat in their eyes. Turning away, she curled into the protection of Gregor's embrace.
She couldn’t think about the braklav, the pain, Tender Training, or how easily she'd caved to High Tender Marcus's torture. And Gregor had stopped him. How would anyone endure such pain. She forced herself not to think about it. It was too fresh, too raw, and right now she needed to focus on something else, like Gregor. She would begin with him and work on the High Tender later.
Chapter Four
Gregor pressed a hand to the small of her back and moved her forward through the door leading out of that horrid room. He guided her out onto a large observation platform with a gentle touch. The contrast between how he handled her and the High Tender's torture jarred her senses. It didn't matter though, she still squirmed out of his grip.
"Don't you dare touch me." Running from Gregor was pointless. There was nowhere to go. Three feet in front of her, she halted against a waist-high railing.
The platform he'd moved her onto overlooked an immense space. The floor dropped twenty meters below and a domed ceiling soared an equal distance above. Overhead, fake white clouds billowed across a deep blue, and equally fake, sky. She hated it on sight and angled her gaze to look down and away from the mockery of Earth's sky.
Neat ordered rows of open-topped circular structures stretched out on the floor. Inside each of them was what looked like a ro
und bed. A quick count confirmed twenty columns of fifty-one rows. Just over a thousand cells. But no bars.
The stillness of the space made her gut clench. Hyperventilating, she curled her fingers around the railing and blinked against black spots crowding her vision. Choking sobs made breathing impossible.
"Elise," Gregor said, coming up behind her. His hand brushed against her bare back. "Calm yourself."
The High Tender mentioned a thousand women had been collected and here was the proof. Beneath her high vantage point, beyond the round rooms, hundreds of women moved in a kaleidoscope of shimmering silk gowns like the one they'd put her in.
Gregor grabbed her waist and pulled her to him. "Be still."
She jerked out of his grip again and stammered. "Get y-your gr-grubby p-paws off m-me!" She couldn't catch her breath.
He refused to let her go and drew her into his warmth. "You're hysterical. You must calm down." He pointed with his free hand. "This is the Confinement Deck."
The soothing tones of his voice called to her rational mind to return from the chaos of panic.
"It's your home."
She gripped his forearm where he held her against his chest. "No." Her denial came out a choked sob, but he spoke the truth.
Across the distance, encircling the entire space, other observation platforms bulged out from the walls. Figures moved on them, large men in dark uniforms, their attention focused on the captives below.
Guards.
The aftershocks of Tender Training lingered in her mind, even if no signs showed on her flesh. For this reason alone, she didn't resist Gregor. Her need for comfort, after something so horrific, drove her into his embrace. It was wrong to seek solace in the arms of her enemy, but she needed comfort only another human could offer. Her reserves of self-sufficiency and strength had long since been depleted.