by L A Warren
“Yeah. You were attracting stares from some of the pilots. I was relieved when you stopped at my ship.” He ran his hands up and down his body. “Despite my looks, I’m a really nice guy.”
She laughed. “Well, I give you my thanks.” She glanced around the room and compressed her lips and sighed. “I guess I should be going.” She paused. “What was it that gave me away?”
“Your hands are tiny, delicate, and clean. Your face is pristine without a smudge or a streak of dirt. And your very lovely hair, which cascades down your back in those beautiful waves of brown, should’ve been tied up very tight. Mechanics also don’t often step so lightly or look around so carefully. I swear it seemed like you were taking mental snapshots to go over later.”
That part was true. “Oh.” She bit her lower lip in thought.
“So, what brings you down here? Where are ya’ from?”
“Hm.” Would he buy her story? “Can I have that drink now?”
He laughed. “Sure, tea, coffee, or something stronger?”
“Stronger, what do you have?”
“Good stuff.” Dove puttered around in the small space. He brought out a flask and two small shot glasses. The liquid was a fluorescent blue and she eyed it dubiously as he poured.
She stretched out a tentative hand and examined the glowing liquid, arched a brow in question, and brought it to her mouth. He swallowed his drink in one smooth movement, then placed the shot glass on the table and poured himself another drink.
The pungent fumes burned her nostrils, but beneath that an interesting aroma begged to be free. With a toss of her head, the blue liquid poured into her mouth. It burned all the way down and a spasm of coughing kept her sputtering for several minutes. A slight taste of spice and fruit peppered the drink, but it was lost to the burning and the coughing. Her eyes watered and she blinked back moisture.
Dove laughed and refilled the tiny cup. He watched as she regained control of her breathing and then nodded to the glass. “One more, chickadee, and then we’ll talk.”
“What the hell is that stuff?” Her heart raced, trying to compensate for the lack of oxygen. She gulped air and soothed the racking coughs. “I think I’ll be fine, thank you.”
The chair creaked as Dove readjusted his weight. He took a small sip and stared at her with an inquisitive grin and warm eyes.
“I was hoping I’d blend in a bit better. It was really that bad?” She raised the little cup to her mouth and touched her lips to the liquid. The spice aroma was pleasant. She took a tiny sip and let the alcohol percolate in her mouth and nasal passages. The faint fruity aroma was utterly foreign but pleasant.
“Yeah, next time you might want to smudge yourself up better.” He sat back and folded his thick arms across an even thicker chest.
“I was looking for the captain of the Champion’s Riot. I wanted to ask her a few questions, maybe even get some advice.”
“Jeena? Now what in the devil’s backyard do you need to talk to her about?” Dove eyed her suspiciously.
A knock sounded down the corridor, followed by a lilting female voice. “Dovey? You in here, honey?”
“Damn!” He eyed Elise with caution. “How the hell do you women do it? Is it some form of ESP?”
Elise shrugged and bobbed her head in a what-are-you-talking-about gesture.
He huffed and raised his voice. “Sitting in here, luv, and I got a present for you.”
“A present,” the feminine voice squealed. “Why Dovey, you shouldn’t have…”
A tall, dark haired woman poked her head in the doorway. Her voice fell flat when she saw Elise sitting across from Dove. “Hm, not really what I was expecting.” She smiled tentatively at Elise. “You got me a girl? Dovey, we’ve been snarking long enough for you to know where my tastes lie.” She folded her arms across a full chest. The half-zipped red coveralls accentuated an ample cleavage.
“I didn’t mean it like that. What’s up with your snarks? I hear they’re begging to climb into your matrimonial bed.”
“Pendelton? He’s no longer on my snark list. So, you heard what he did?” Her voice rose with indignation.
“Yes, luv and I heard about your answer.” He grinned up at her. “As has everyone on the flight deck, by the way.”
Jeena beamed. “You bet. That’ll teach him to ask for a marriage oath. You’d think he’d know better.”
Dove gave Jeena his seat in the cramped space.
“Jeena, meet Elise. She came looking for you and I scooped her up before any of our fellows did. You saved me the favor of tracking you down. Why are you here, anyway?”
“Aw, luv. I had some free time before my—your—next ferry run.” She pulled out a tiny gel pad from her pocket with wires wrapped around it and two gel pads the size of silver dollars.
He glanced at the device with interest and flicked his eyes at Elise.
“What’s that?” Elise asked.
Jeena snorted and Dove laughed. His eyes were teary when he answered. “You’ve got to be kidding, chickadee.”
She didn’t think it was that funny.
Jeena stopped laughing when she saw the expression of dismay on Elise’s face. “You’re serious, aren’t you kid?”
Elise nodded. Obviously, she’d just made another social snafu.
“You don’t have a snark pad?”
Elise shook her head.
“How old are you?” Jeena placed the device on the table.
Elise cursed her ignorance for the fiftieth time that day. “Twenty-one.”
“Your ma’ never gave you one?”
“My mother is dead,” Elise said with a sigh. That part was true.
“So, what about your aunt?”
“Dead.” If she counted Elenor as her aunt, that was true as well.
“Grandmother?”
“Dead.”
Jeena glanced at her with concern and looked sideways at Dove standing in the doorway. “Do you have any living female relatives?”
“No.”
“But you have a paternal sponsor right, or a matrimonial sponsor?” Jeena leaned forward and played with the wires on the snark pad absently.
With Vendel rigid societal roles, Jeena’s comment reminded Elise about the patriarchal structure and a woman’s place within it. Ties to a male sponsor formed the very foundation of a woman’s place within society. As only men could own property and money, women depended on the beneficence of their sponsors. She would keep to the truth as much as she could, but she would have to lie to these strangers.
“No, my father is dead, as is my grandfather,” she said.
Dove opened his mouth in an ‘O’ of understanding.
Jeena perked up as well. “You have no sponsor?”
Elise twisted in her seat. She had Jeena’s interest, now to plant the hook. “I was hoping to find a way to—” She took in a deep breath and glanced at each of them in turn before continuing, “Well…I’m trying to find a way off the Gambit and I was trying to find a way to do it alone, without a sponsor, on a permanent basis…like you.”
Dove whistled.
Jeena narrowed her eyes and tapped her fingers. “And so, you came here looking for advice?”
Elise nodded. “I heard about you and I was hoping…”
Jeena interrupted her words, “Listen, I don’t help runaways. I turn in runaways. The Empire doesn’t stand for unsponsored women. My situation is entirely unique, and it’s only because I keep to the Pilot Conclave regulations that I’m allowed to live the way I do. It’s why I can’t stand pricks like Pendelton who think I’d let him crawl into my matrimonial bed because I need a snarking sponsor. I like my independence. I’m not going take a husband just to satisfy the male viewpoint. I’m not going to jeopardize my place either because you want to run away. My advice is to run home and pray your sponsor never finds out you were ever here.”
Elise’s heart sank. She hadn’t expected such a negative response. Gregor’s face, and his twisted little grin, flashed in her face.
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She whispered, “He’s an evil bastard and I can’t stand to have him touch me.”
“So, you do have a sponsor,” Dove said. “If you didn’t like his affections, why’d you take him to your marriage bed?”
“I’m not married,” Elise said in an ominous whisper. She grabbed the forgotten shot and tossed it down her throat. It burned and gagged her, but she refused to give in to a fit of coughing. She stood. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” She shouldered past Dove.
He grabbed her arm. She yanked out of his meaty hands and glared. Dove let go and lifted his hands away, palm out.
“Chickadee, if you’re not married and your father’s dead, then who is your sponsor and why is he—dear gods—he hasn’t taken your nuptial gift has he?”
It was time to pull the proverbial heartstrings and lie. “He’s my uncle, and yes, every night, beginning the night my father passed away. I have no snark pad.” She waved a hand at the device lying on the table. “He never gave me one.”
What the hell is a snark pad?
It was a question she desperately needed answered. From the way they talked about it, it seemed was either a casual game or something more. But then, why would Jeena snark with Pendelton and Dove?
“He’s ruined you,” Jeena said in a low whisper. “By taking your nuptial gift, you’ll never be able to lead a man to your matrimonial bed. The bastard! I bet that’s exactly what he’s thinking.”
She leveled a finger at Dove and shook it. The tone of her voice went from a whisper to a shout. “See, luv, that’s exactly what I’m always talking about. This one man has ruined her life. And what’s the Empire going to do about it? Nothing. She’s tied to this monster. By violating her, he’s made sure she’s unfit to wed. She’s going to be dependent on him for everything. Every breath, every morsel, every drink, every scrap of clothing for the rest of her life. Everything!” Jeena stood and hugged Elise.
She stiffened.
Jeena pulled back and yelled at Dove, “See, she pulls away from a simple hug. I can’t even imagine what he’s done to you, kid.” Jeena stroked her hair. “You poor little thing.”
Dove’s voice dropped in warning, “Jeena, what are you thinking?”
“I’m gonna help this girl.”
“Jeena…” he cautioned.
“Oh, shut up, Dovey,” she snapped. “You’re gonna help.”
Dove groaned, but Elise noted he didn’t refuse. She hugged Jeena tightly. “Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you! You have no idea what this means to me.” She noticed a clock buried in the wall and her face fell. “Listen, I have to get back…before I’m missed—before he finds out I’m gone. Can I come back?”
“Absolutely, kid,” Jeena said. “Listen, come back tomorrow after fifth dinner. We’ll talk then and start planning.”
“I can’t come back then,” she said with regret. Fifth dinner was the beginning of her day. “I can only come about this time and stay for just a few hours. It’s the only time I won’t be missed. And even then, it’ll only be hit or miss if I can even make it.”
That was the truth, she reflected glumly. At some point, she’d have to sleep. She hadn’t slept in days and there was no way she’d be able to keep going without sleep.
Jeena released her. “Dear kid, he really has you under his thumb, doesn’t he?”
Elise nodded. “You have no idea how he runs my life.” A smile twisted on her lips.
“Hm, no doubt the better to control you. Well, we’ll just wait. If I’m not at my ship just come over here to Dovey’s. He’s not likely to get this spider-plagued, dump bucket running before we get to Malbra. We’ll figure out something.”
“What exactly are you promising, luv?” Dove’s words grated.
Jeena pushed Elise to the side and squeezed around her to stand in front of Dove. She pinched his meaty cheeks with her fingers and planted a kiss on his lips. “I’m promising to never, ever, let another man think to lead me to my matrimonial bed.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.
Dove leaned back. “And what if a man were to suggest? You could start using his given name, for a change.”
Jeena kissed his nose. “Why Dovey, I’d kick such a man in the nuts and take him off my snarking list.”
“Humph, would it really be so bad?”
“For me luv, it would be death.” She ran a hand over his bald head and grimaced at the grease stain left on her hand. With an irritated sigh, she wiped her hand on his chest. “I like it the way it is, don’t try to take that from me, Dovey. It is what it is, and I am what I am. I’m perfectly content to keep it that way. If you want a wife, you’ve had—still have—plenty of offers.”
He rubbed his neck. “No, I’m good.”
Dove jerked his chin at Elise, who’d been standing neglected and trapped inside the little room, watching what appeared to be a very odd lover’s quarrel. He backed out of the door. “Go on little Chickadee, looks like your little foray to the flight deck has brought you luck.” He rubbed his fingers on his pants and then rubbed the grease on her chin and cheek. “There, now you don’t look so out of place. Tie your hair up, make it look messy, and get your pretty behind back to where you came.”
She gave him a huge smile. “Thank you.” On the way back to the Confinement Deck, her steps felt a little lighter.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gambit, Day 141
The next morning Elise woke to agony. Searing pain flashed across her back and then again on her legs. Attempts to twist away failed and she found herself yanked back to her stomach. Strong arms held her shoulders down. Two hands pinned her legs to the bed. She screamed as the all too familiar sting of the whipstick bit into her flesh.
Ragged sobs fell on disinterested ears. Tears soaked into her mattress, useless and impotent against the men who restrained her in bed.
Heavy booted steps, a particular sound she knew all too well, approached after the last lash had been dealt and announced the arrival of her Tender.
“What is going on?” High Tender Marcus asked with a hint of amusement edging his voice. How she hated his callous disregard.
“My lord, this one missed the morning bell.” That voice belonged to wor-guard Lewsik. One of the supervisors known for a particularly strong arm. “10-4 brought it to our attention.”
Sarah, that brown-nose bitch! Elise fisted the covers of her bed.
“Well, that’s disappointing,” High Tender Marcus said with a deep breath and slow exhale. “Give her an additional ten. The Emperor’s s’vlor needs to set a better example. When you’re done, bring her to me in the Fifth Rank classroom.”
The WOR-guards held her down while Lewsik administered the additional lashes.
This hurts!
Screams spilled out of her lungs to merge with ineffectual tears. When it was done, they dragged her off the bed and escorted her to the showers. She could barely stand. That didn’t deter the WOR-guards from their task. They stripped her naked and thrust her under the cold stream.
Stop it!
Did she say that or think it? She didn't know.
Water pelted over her head. "Stop! Oh my God." This time she knew she had said the words, but the plea fell on deaf ears as Lewsik attended to her the way a trainer would a dog. He lathered up a bristle brush and scraped her skin clean.
He tossed her a towel. “The gods won't help you, 10-2. You know the rules.” There was no compassion in the set of his square jaw. His expression was as hard and unyielding as the bulging muscles of his body.
“Yes, sir.” She choked out the words in-between sobs and managed to get the scarlet dress over her head on the second try. The small chain belt fastened on her third attempt. They marched her past the dining hall without stopping and deposited her in the classroom.
High Tender Marcus stood at the far end of the room examining the wall. He wore his usual brown jumpsuit, a darker shade than any other Tender she had seen, and glanced her way. A frown filled his face and his
short haircut, which failed to cover a growing bald spot on his head, did an even poorer job of concealing the anger in his face. That combined with his coal dark eyes made her shake as Lewsik deposited her at the door.
“Thank you. That’ll be all.” The High Tender dismissed the men with a wave of his hand. He turned back to his inspection of the wall.
“High Tender, please forgive me.” She found herself halfway to a curtsey before she realized he wasn't paying her any attention. She glanced around, unsure what was expected.
He turned and met her growing fear with narrowed eyes. They glittered like coal, devoured the light, and sucked the air out of her lungs. “You are not just s’vlor, not just s’vlor of the Fifth Rank. You are the Emperor’s s’vlor. Your actions reflect on him.”
“Yes, High Tender,” she whispered.
He walked up to her with his hands clasped behind his back. She couldn't see his braklav, but imagined him fingering it in his palm. “I don’t think you grasp what I’m trying to say. Your performance yesterday during WOR-skill training was much less than hoped for.”
“I will try harder.” She held her hands together, wringing her fingers, because she didn't know what he was getting at. From the glint in his eyes he had something definite to say.
“I’m curious, what did you think about yesterday’s session?”
“I found it confusing.”
“Interesting for someone of your intellect, and especially considering that you’ve touched the WOR-skill before. I would think training would come naturally. Which makes me believe you are intentionally holding back.” The High Tender’s eyes blinked with deliberate slowness. His voice lowered and turned menacing. “It wouldn’t do for you to hold back. That’s one thing I will not tolerate and let me remind you—you don’t want to make me upset.” The dark brown eyes of the High Tender narrowed to thin slits and she felt the temperature of the room drop to an arctic freeze.
She shuddered. “No, High Tender, I swear I tried very hard.” She took two steps back without even realizing what she was doing.
He released his hands and the braklav came forward, twirling with menace. “I’m to believe you?” He took a step toward her.