Vendel Rising Omnibus

by L A Warren

  With a glance at her luxurious prison, she still had no clue how to begin her plans for revenge.

  Chapter Ten

  Gambit, Day 31

  Elise began her morning like every other, at the track. It had been one full Vendel cycle, ten Earth days, since her encounter with Gregor.

  She was thankful in a way; engaging with Gregor assured defeat. Her body was simply too rebellious in his presence. Although the trip to his quarters resulted in some gains. He revealed truths, even if he'd withheld other answers she demanded.

  Not everyone had died. A culling he'd called it. It gave her hope. If survival depended on having the right set of genes, her nieces could still be alive. But Tom? The thought of her nieces struggling on without his guidance twisted her gut. She needed to believe they'd made it.

  Why fight for freedom if there was nothing to go home to? And Gregor said his people were safeguarding Earth. That had to mean something.

  Another thing had changed on the Confinement Deck. He said he wanted to build a bridge between them, and she’d complained about the lack of education about women in Vendel society. So, she was pleasantly surprised when a course in women's study had been added to the curriculum.

  Gregor's bridge, rather than helping though, only enraged her more. Women had little control over their lives. They owned no property, and everything they earned went under the umbrella of their male sponsor—father, husband, brother, son-in-law, whoever their closest male relative was ruled their lives—Vendel women were beholden to patriarchal benevolence from birth to death. There was some mention about matrimonial unions being tied to the matriarchal line that confused her, but the Vendel knew little about women's rights.

  Which brought up the question of what happened when a woman had no male sponsorship to fall back on? That answer would play an important part in her plans. If she couldn't act independent of a man outside the Confinement Deck, her break for freedom would face a significant hurdle. And she certainly didn't need another impossible task heaped upon all the others she already faced.

  Elise completed her warmup routine. Where the hell was Alice? She wouldn't be able to stall much longer and would have to move onto the track to begin her run.

  They met every third day, coordinating it so their meetings didn't appear arranged, a difficult task under the watchful eyes of the WOR-guards. She stretched out her hamstrings, one more time, but when Alice failed to show she had no choice but to head out.

  After her first lap, however, Alice jogged up behind her, catching her with an easy stride. "Got stopped by a WOR-guard."

  On the tracks, the chances of the WOR-guards hearing them speaking was low. They huffed out broken syllables on the exhales of labored breath and painstakingly formed words.

  "Sorry." Elise sympathized with her friend but didn't ask what Alice had done to earn the whipstick. "I hate this place. I hate them."

  "Yeah, but it's weird though…how you get used to it?"

  "I know." Complacency was their biggest enemy.

  "I wake up, put on a beautiful gown, go to class, and learn amazing things. Each day it gets harder to remember."

  "Yeah, until they whip you."

  "Right. Until a WOR-guard reminds me I'm a prisoner."

  It was true. The Vendel had built a perfect prison. If they behaved, they lived an idyllic life. "I see it in the other girls as well."

  "It bothers me, how easily they've won," Alice said with a frown.

  "They haven't won."

  "Yeah, I guess with the code we kind of have something over them," Alice said. "More and more of the girls are learning. At least those who speak English. I feel bad for those who don't. They're so isolated."

  "The Tenders will figure it out." She slowed the pace to make speaking easier. "They'll punish us."

  "The one time they used that silver stick thingy on me, I thought I was going to die."

  "What about 10-4? What's her name?" She vented a frustrated sigh. "God, I hate these numbers the Vendel gave us. I hate even more that I'm using them. It's so dehumanizing."

  "Her name is Sarah. Bitch turned me in to the WOR-guards yesterday. I was late for language class. She marched up to the first WOR-guard she saw and told him." Alice's fists clenched and she stumbled.

  Many had fallen victim to Sarah's brown-nosing with the WOR-guards.

  "No one has bothered to teach her," Alice said, "and she's too stupid to figure it out."

  "I made a more fluid code…faster."

  "If you're worried about the Tenders, you might want to keep it to yourself."

  They finished another lap.

  "I don't need a code to talk to myself."

  Alice laughed. "True. Teach me. When they bust us, at least you and I will still have something."

  They ran for thirty minutes and Elise introduced Alice to her new revised code. At the end of their run they separated until the next time they'd see each other. They each headed to their respective classes.

  Her first class was linguistics with Professor Ziddak. His weasel face lit up when he saw his students. They'd been here for just over a sun cycle, made up of three cycles, or thirty days. He told them in three more sun cycles, ninety days, only the Vendel language would be allowed. Any Earth languages would be forbidden afterwards. He tried to reassure them they weren't expected to be proficient but made sure they understood the use of their native tongue would be added to the list of infractions correctable by the WOR-guards.

  Elise was suddenly appreciative of the extra tutoring sessions High Tender Marcus gave her two hours every day. While she could barely stand to be in his presence, he spent their time together drilling her in the Vendel language. Fortunately, his tutoring had advanced her proficiency above that of the other women.

  She followed Professor Ziddak's lesson plan, pretending to be involved. Instead, she put her hacking skills to use, working on viral subroutines and releasing them into the am-net as avatars. Little minions she sent out with very specific tasks. Some fetched schematics of the ship. Others brought back power grid network interfaces. She'd even sent a few to probe into societal structure, trying to piece together Conclave relationships and important things like what power a High Judicator may or may not hold over the Vendel Emperor and what happened to a woman who lost all her male sponsors.

  Her viral subroutines were something the am-net had never encountered before. She had no idea what she was looking for, but anything she could learn about this new culture, computer systems, economic system, or personal tracking systems was something she might be able to use against Gregor.

  The lesson droned on and Elise let loose a new squad of her little army into the am-net.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gambit, Day 121

  The days blended into one another with a dull monotony. For ninety days, three Vendel sun-cycles, she'd seen no sign of Gregor.

  Whether he chose to stay away, or whether High Tender Marcus kept them apart, she had no idea. For the first few cycles, their passionate kiss had filled her dreams, but as days turned to weeks and then to months (or cycles turned to sun cycles), that fire died and was replaced by something much more insidious—the routine of daily living.

  She, along with the other women, grew comfortable with their new life. She fought the urge to give in, but it was too easy to let it happen. It had been over a sun cycle, three cycles, since the sound of a whipstick struck. They were all incredibly well behaved.

  The language ban went into place early in the morning of Day 121 of their captivity. Not a few minutes later, the strikes of whipsticks ringing out reminded them exactly what they were.

  Sobs sounded constantly throughout the Confinement Deck, followed quickly by flurried tapping of the secret code offering support and solidarity.

  For those who'd forgotten, they now remembered their place.

  Elise managed the language ban easier than the others. Due to the private sessions with High Tender Marcus, she was near fluent.

  On he
r way to meet him, the familiar sound of a whipstick and the cries of its victim sounded behind her. In this one thing, she was grateful, and she intended to express her gratitude to High Tender Marcus when she saw him.

  She stepped into the small room for her private lesson and pulled up short. The High Tender wasn't there. Instead, the man who had filled her dreams for cycles waited.

  For someone who'd made such a fuss about claiming her, where the hell had he been all this time? Not that she was going to let him think she'd missed their verbal sparring, his touch, or those full lips of his, but why show up now?

  The gleam in his eyes sharpened and he gave her one of his quirky half-smiles. "Good afternoon," he said in clear, crisp English.

  Was he trying to trick her? Why would he do that? He lounged at the single desk in the large room, leaning back in a chair, with his feet propped on the table in front of him.

  "It's nice to see you."

  Elise answered in fluent Vendel. No way was she going to break the language ban. "Hello, Gregor." Butterflies danced in her belly and her heart pulsed beneath her breastbone. "Where is High Tender Marcus?"

  "He and the other Tenders are busy. They have much to prepare. I have missed you." Gregor gestured for her to take the seat opposite him. His brows drew down.

  Perhaps he expected her to throw herself at him, but she wasn't going to pretend she was happy to see him. Despite an immediate heated response, she suppressed the power of the bond firing passionate signals within her body.

  "Is that so?"

  He kicked his feet off the table and sat up straight.

  She crossed the few steps and sank into the seat. Her fingers twitched in the silken folds of her dress. "Tell me what High Tender Marcus is preparing." She'd found anger and a direct approach worked best to suppress the bond.

  "Our time apart has threaded steel into your blood and tempered our bond. Unfortunate, but not unexpected."

  She laced her voice full of sarcasm. "Forgive me if I'm not falling all over myself here, but I'm distracted by the cries of my friends being whipped by your men."

  "By the gods, but I love the challenge in your voice."

  She recoiled, remembering too late how unwise it was to bait him. She'd enflamed his desire. Not smart when the control she held over the bond was so tenuous. Even now heat coiled within her and she couldn't keep her eyes off his rich, full lips.

  Gregor tapped his fingers on the table. "The High Tender left me a lesson plan." He flicked the embedded tabletop display to activate a glowing blue screen. "I'm supposed to discuss verb conjugation with you." He looked at her. "But it seems your grasp of our language is quite advanced, so I see no reason to waste what limited time we have on that."

  His gaze focused a beat too long on her lips. It seemed they were both thinking the same thing.

  Squirming in her chair, she attempted to direct him back to the task at hand. "High Tender Marcus's extra tutoring has been most helpful." Had the temperature in the room spiked?

  "I'm glad you've found his attentions helpful. Since he will be your Tender, it is good you've been able to learn from him. He will be your primary guide as you learn the WOR-skill." He tapped the bio-gel and the screen went dark. His gaze lingered on her lips.

  She coughed and pointed at the interface. "Aren't we going to go over the lesson?"

  He blinked. "I have no intention of doing that."

  "But…High Tender Marcus's instructions?"

  "He is busy, and we are alone. I can think of a much better way to spend our time." His voice held dark and sultry promises.

  She wanted to surrender to the heat simmering in his words but reined in the passion burning in her gut. "I don't want to go against High Tender Marcus's wishes." And this was the heart of her problem. Along the way, she'd become an obedient slave to these men.

  "You're right to obey him, but you should not fear him." His voice was a harsh whisper. "His only goal is to train you."

  "I don't fear him." That was a lie. The High Tender with his braklav terrified her.

  "You do, but you should not. Obey him and he will be your most obedient servant." Gregor stated that as fact. It made no sense and fit into nothing she knew of the man. "You fear me, too, don't you?"

  She found herself nodding. She did fear Gregor, especially how he made her feel, because none of it made sense. To look at him was to fan the flames of desire. And truth be told she wanted his hands on her, his lips pressing against hers. She needed to be stronger than whatever hold he held over her, but she didn't want that either. The desire to yield grew by the moment.

  His silver gaze locked with hers and held her with strength. "I'm the least of what you need to fear. You're picking the wrong enemies."

  "Why would you say that to me?"

  "Only that there are worse things than a few stolen kisses or the fact you enjoyed them so much. You spend too much energy fighting when you should be embracing me. You're missing the real threat."

  "What the hell are you talking about?" She crossed her arms. "You're my enemy. If your kisses aren't enough to make me cringe, then I can't imagine who else could?"

  His tone turned deathly serious. "It's not who, but what. Annihilation is the true threat."

  "You've annihilated everything I ever cared about."

  And she wanted his arms wrapped around her right now and his lips pressed against hers, but that wasn't the issue right now. Which made her a freak.

  Wait. "What the hell are you talking about?" She smoothed the fabric of her dress and tried to think. “If you're going to babble about nonsense," she said, "then maybe we should begin the lesson. I don't want to give the High Tender reason to use the braklav on me. If you want to tell me something, then by all means, please get on with it. You have my undivided, captive, attention."

  By the narrowing of his eyes, he didn't like the emphasis she put on 'captive’, but tough, she didn't care about his feelings.

  He leaned forward, more tapping on top of the desk. His long fingers captivated her. "The braklav is only used as a last resort. You decide how you will be trained. How we get from here to there is completely up to you. Easy or hard. The choice is entirely in your hands."

  "But I don't want to be trained to be your obedient lapdog." She twisted in the seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. "This is how you approach everything. You say I have a choice, but there is no choice. Either I obey or you torture. That's not choice."

  "We've been training WOR for centuries. Our methods are effective."

  "Your methods are barbaric."

  A loud chime sounded.

  He blew out a frustrated breath. "Your arguing has wasted what little time we had together." He stood and gestured for her to do the same.

  Alarm bells went off in her head. "You didn't answer my question. What's the real threat if not you?"

  He pursed his lips. "The Tenders are ready."

  The Tenders were ready? For what?

  She refused to move, at least not until he explained what was going on. "Ready for what? And answer my question!"

  "Come."

  "Have you ever heard the phrase 'you'll get more offering the carrot than the stick,' or 'you'll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar'. For someone who wants to steal kisses when the High Tender isn't looking, it's something you might want to pay attention to."

  His brows twitched. "And what exactly do those phrases mean?"

  "Only that if you answered a damn question, I might not fight you so much."

  "I don't have to be nice," he said coolly.

  "But imagine if you were?" She stood and walked past him in a rustle of silken skirts.

  He grabbed her and pulled her close. "And if I answer your questions, you'll fall into my arms? Is this what you're promising, Elise?" He leaned close and the heat of his breath whispered over her skin. "Don't make promises you're unwilling to keep. You call me monster, even though I told you I had no choice in what had to be done. The bond ties us.
You cannot fight it. I don't have to be nice to take what is already mine."

  She opened her mouth to say something, but he silenced her with his cold words.

  "But, let us try this and see how it sits with you." He yanked her up against the steel of his chest. "Today, the Tenders will be administering the Activator. It's the second step in your transformation to becoming WOR."

  "The second?"

  "Yes. The first was the Vector, which you already know, selected you based upon your genes."

  She nodded. "Right. The perfume from the banquet that killed everyone."

  "I already told you it wasn't in the callidor. The callidor merely accelerated our bond. The Vector selected you, and those who carry enough WOR-genes still survive on Earth. I did not destroy your home, merely pruned it back to its roots, and silenced it against an advancing threat. Despite what you believe, I'm doing everything in my power to protect humanity."

  A loud bell tolled outside the room, growing even louder and more insistent. His grip on her arms tightened, as did his voice.

  "The Activator will turn those very rare genes on, and transcription will begin. We'll consider ourselves lucky if only one-in-ten of you die. You are our most precious resource and we don't want to lose any of you. I don't want you to die."

  "More deaths?" Her breath hitched in her chest.

  "An unavoidable loss."

  "You expect to lose a hundred of us?" She beat at his chest. "A hundred!"

  He shook her. "Listen! You wanted to know. Well, I'm telling you. A few will lose Rank. A smaller number might gain Rank, if they aren't driven insane first—those will be put down."

  "Like dogs?" There was no remorse in his features. These were just numbers to him.

  "As the Activator triggers your very rare genomes, changes will occur. They're painful."

  The grip on her arms loosened and he pulled her to his chest, holding her to him now in an embrace. "I would not wish this on anyone. I do not wish it on you. But it is necessary to transform you into a WOR." He smoothed her hair and pulled her braid over her shoulder. "I have no idea what will happen to you."