Vendel Rising Omnibus

by L A Warren

  Her fingers went to massage her temples.

  Whimper remembered the High Tender’s words. The question has not been answered. We have to answer the question. Bad things happen when the questions aren’t answered.

  “Earth. You pointed to my home.” She flicked her gaze to the High Tender. Elise stood and Gregor followed.

  “It’s not your home any longer, opés.” He pulled her to his chest and she willingly went to him, even found some degree of comfort in his arms.

  “I know. You’re my home now.”

  He smoothed her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, opés, I am. We learned something important just now.”

  “You meant to catch me off guard.”

  “I remembered what you said about juggling.” He put a hand on her shoulder.

  She shrugged him off and pushed out of his embrace.

  “Call it my version of WOR-skill juggling,” he said. “A test of sorts.”

  Elise stopped short. They had tricked her into using the WOR-skill, not the way she had been taught, but the other way. Her way. Intuitively. The urge to please these men had dominated her thoughts and desires until instinct took over. The realization made her stomach turn.

  She hated her weakness. “Gregor, why do all the dresses you put me in have ties in the back?”

  His expression filled with surprise.

  She’d caught him off guard.

  “Not exactly the question I expected, opés.”

  “Please, answer me.”

  Gregor rubbed the back of his neck. “WOR in training wear dresses bare in the back. It makes correction by the WOR-guards most effective.”

  The gang began to squirm in her head. Hush, my sisters. We’re learning here.

  He grabbed her hands and pulled her close. She allowed herself to be led and pressed against the hardened planes of his chest. He did not release her hands. “Once a WOR has progressed past WOR-skill training, she wears an outfit similar to the one you’re wearing. The front is lowered to display the binding amulet. A back-tie corset is an expression of the intense mental and physical bond between s’vlor and master. The back tie is a choice a s’vlor makes to show her willingness to serve. Tell me, opés, is that not the truth for us? Are you not willing to serve me?”

  What have you done to me?

  Elise stared at the ruin of fruit littering the ground. “Tender Training, Gregor. I wear what you choose, but it is not my choice.”

  The High Tender shifted in his seat and twirled the braklav. She didn’t think he meant to use it.

  Cries from the darkness sounded in her head.

  She soothed them and pushed them back. “You say jump and I jump. With Tender Training, you made me need to obey you, to please…both of you. You asked me to perform the fifth Bar skill. Something I’ve struggled with for months. You added a few simple requests, which by themselves were easy. Altogether, something I shouldn’t have been able to do. I don’t even know what skill level that is. I succeeded because I know the penalty for disobedience. I remember the braklav. That twirling rod is in my thoughts day and night. I don’t dare disappoint you, or I risk the braklav. What you make me wear is your choice, not mine.”

  She glanced at the High Tender. “I can do so much more with the WOR-skill if you would allow me to learn it my way. Your silly rules and constructs are crippling my ability to learn and I can’t please Gregor unless I learn.” She gestured to the fruit littering the ground. “This should prove it.”

  Gregor stared at the High Tender, an odd expression of smugness plastered on his face.

  The High Tender ignored Gregor, instead focusing all his attention on Elise.

  She felt like a bug under a microscope. An awkward silence stretched between the men. Elise feared saying anything else. Her words bordered on insolence and Shriek would not allow her to say more and risk a session with the braklav.

  When Gregor spoke, his voice exuded eternal patience and an unwavering calm that brought chills to her spine.

  “That will be all, opés. You can find your way back to the Confinement Deck and log yourself back in.” He turned away and took a step toward the High Tender.

  Elise didn’t hesitate. She left the park and the scattered fruit littering the ground. Her feet didn’t seem able to move fast enough for her mind. She wanted to run, but settled for a dignified retreat.

  Before she got too far, she heard Gregor. “And what do you think of that, High Tender?”

  Chapter Eight

  New Terra Histories by Malita s’Lissa s’vlor

  My sisters: Shriek, Whimper, Malice, and even the last sister who took longer to reveal herself, don’t think I’m—we’re—crazy. We get along just fine.

  What Gregor and the High Tender accomplished with Tender Training terrified me. There was no escape from the braklav. No mercy from Gregor.

  I divided my mind to survive. Shriek howled. Whimper cried. Malice pushed us forward. The final sister saved us all.

  My breakthrough happened in the circumferential park with those silly pieces of fruit. I hadn’t thought about vectors, lines of force or dimensional folding. All I did was give Gregor and the High Tender instant obedience without thought. The thrill over controlling the WOR-skill was tainted by the impulsive need to please those men. I reacted. I pleased them. I struggled to make them proud and, without thinking, the WOR-skill flowed out of my mind.

  It was a beginning. My first success. But success wasn’t good enough. I needed a victory.

  Chapter Nine

  Gambit, Day 201

  Elise walked down the flight deck dressed in her red pilot’s jumpsuit. The pocket over her left thigh bulged with a jump-jet training flimsy. The one over her right held her snarking pad. The collar was zipped up high, hiding her WOR training collar from prying eyes.

  No one was entirely certain who she was or where she came from. What they did know was Jeena was training her for the jump-jet circuit and planned to enter Elise into the Gambit trials.

  Larkin waved as she passed. A prejuv like herself, he was in his mid-thirties, not much more than a kid among the Vendel. Curly white hair topped his head, spilled over his ears, and fell down into his chocolate brown eyes. He winked at her as she passed.

  “El! Come here,” he called.

  She angled over to him and his ship, the Golden Pride. She was early and had a few minutes to chat.

  “What’s up Lark?”

  “So, I hear it’s official and all?”

  She crossed her arms and looked at him. “What?”

  “Well, I heard you made the entrance fee for the novice competition. Who funded you?”

  Elise didn’t answer. She tapped her foot.

  Larkin continued. “Hm. They told me you wouldn’t say.” He rubbed the back of his neck and brushed the curls out of his eyes. “Well, Jarvis, Anders, Prindle, and I…”

  Elise arched a brow. Jeena thought it would be good practice, and good networking, to get to know some of the junior pilots. To that end, Jeena had introduced Elise and in the Vendel-way, snarking followed introductions. Elise had since become quite popular.

  Larkin shifted from foot to foot. His gaze lingered on her chest. Elise stepped forward and put her finger under his chin. She lifted. “My eyes are up here. If you’re going to speak to me, then stop staring at my breasts.”

  He glanced up sheepishly.

  “Lark, why did you call me over here?”

  A blush colored his cheeks. “Oh, well, like I was saying, none of us have much money, but we pooled it all together for your entrance fee. I brought it to Jeena and thought we’d surprise you. With all the work you’re doing in training, and Jeena saying you’re damned good, we wanted to pay, but I was surprised when she said you already had a benefactor.”

  Elise kissed him on the cheek. “Lark, that’s so sweet.”

  “It’s more than just the few of us. We didn’t have enough, so we kind of got everyone to chip in.”

  “Who is everyone?
”

  “Every pilot on this flight deck, most of the mechanics, and some of the loadmasters too.” Larkin’s smooth face broke into a broad grin and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

  Everyone?

  Something he said caught her attention. “Did she really say I was good?”

  Jeena hadn’t given her a single word of encouragement in the months of training. Difficult to please didn’t even come close to explaining Jeena’s rigid standards. She was worse than the High Tender and Gregor when it came down to training.

  “Don’t tell her I told you. She told Dove. A few of us were standing nearby. She caught us listening, came over and threatened us. I’m not supposed to tell you.”

  “You just did. What’s up Lark, not afraid of Jeena anymore?”

  “Hey! You better not tell on me.”

  Elise laughed. “On you? Dear Lark, I won’t.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief and then glanced down at her pocket. “Do you have to go right away?”

  Elise pulled out the snarking pad, and gave him a sly smile. “Not right away. I have a few minutes to share with a friend.” She walked under the canopy of his ship and sat on the floor, placing the snarking pad in front of her on the ground and unwrapping the wires.

  Larkin sat down, his eyes alight with eagerness.

  “So, what are you up for?”

  “How about that massage you did last time. I liked that!”

  “Back or front?”

  “Do we have time for both, and maybe that bit at the end?”

  “For you, Lark, always time.” Elise attached the gel pad to his hand and watched Larkin’s eyes glaze over as he entered her simulation.

  Snarking was as natural as a hug between friends, or a peck on the cheek, except the Vendel turned all that on its head with snarking. The interface activated Larkin’s pleasure receptors while she led him through an immersive experience. It wasn’t exactly like having sex, but it was intimate, highly sensual, and elicited a sexual release: virtual not physical. As far as she was concerned, snarking was no different from sex, but since there was no physical contact, the Vendel viewed it as a platonic diversion.

  Snarking replaced sexual intimacy between unmarried individuals in Vendel society and women ruled the snarking pads. They used them to cement friendships, establish alliances, and sometimes to determine matrimonial unions. Snarking

  was the currency of the Vendel female, which meant Elise made it her priority to become proficient in the art of snarking.

  Because she wasn’t a virgin, and due to her personal experiences, her snarking sims incorporated all the senses. Through sight, touch, feel, taste and sound, the complexity of her simulations layered sensuality on top of eroticism. And in sim, she created an experience Vendel males couldn’t get enough of.

  Larkin’s features relaxed as she increased the intensity of the stimulation. She set the timer and let the sensations flow over her mind as she guided him through the simulation. She forgot all about the WOR-skill, Gregor, and corseted dresses. Eight minutes later a buzzer sounded, pulling them out of their simulation.

  She wrapped the cables back around the pad and placed it back in her pocket.

  Larkin kissed her cheek and lay back on the ground, humming. “You have some pretty interesting tricks with that thing.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said.

  “Any way you could show some of the others how to do that?”

  “What?”

  “El, come on. You know what I mean. I’d just be nice if their sims were as rich as yours. You incorporate all the senses, it makes the rest feel flat by comparison. That bit with the water…hot water, nice.”

  “I need to go, Lark. Jeena’s going to let me fly the real thing. Dove’s all nervous.”

  Larkin laughed. “You haven’t been by his ship yet, have you?”

  “No. Why?”

  “He’s been decorating in preparation for today.”

  “Great.” Elise stood and brushed off her pants. “Please tell everyone thanks, by the way, I really appreciate their support.”

  Larkin jumped to his feet, “Oh, I forgot!”

  “What?”

  “I’m supposed to ask if we can use it for a bet instead. We figured since all of us had pitched in, and Jeena thinks you may have a chance, that we could put it in the betting pool. Since you’re a novice the odds are stacked against you. So, if—when—you win, we’ll all make a killing. What do you say?”

  “If I lose, you all lose your money. I can’t do that.”

  “It was going to be a gift from all of us anyway. We’re not losing anything.”

  “Listen, I gotta go.”

  “Think about it. Now that the entrance fees have been collected, the betting is going to start. The earlier we put it in, the bigger the payout.”

  “Fine, I’ll think about it.” She hurried off.

  The whole deck? What had gotten into them? And now there’s a betting pool, too?

  She shuddered at the thought. And, Jeena, who rivaled the High Tender as a taskmaster, said she might actually be good?

  Perhaps I do have a chance?

  You’re not supposed to be doing this for fun. Malice hissed. Or, have you forgotten your purpose?

  Malice’s words pulled Elise up short. I have not forgotten.

  Good. Don’t! These are not your friends. What would they do if they knew who you really were?

  Malice’s words of caution echoed in her mind as she trotted towards Champion’s Riot. Hanging off the wings, the fuselage, the nose, and the tail of the Spider Devil hundreds of long black tassels dropped to the ground. Dove’s entire ship looked like it had grown a hairy beard. She pulled up short.

  “What the hell is this, Dove?”

  Dove stood out in front with his arms crossed over his large barrel chest. His bald head shined in the light. Odd, since it was usually covered in a layer of grease and grime.

  She smiled at the stern expression on Dove’s face. “Larkin told me you’d redecorated, but honestly, I hadn’t expected this.” She gestured at the bearded ship and pulled on one of the tassels. It held firm.

  Dove walked up and stuck a small black ribbon on her chest with a frown.

  “Dove? What’s going on?”

  He gestured to the ship. “Each of these, my little chickadee, represents every one of your sim deaths. I’ve been keeping track.”

  Elise rolled her eyes. That number was well past one hundred now. “I didn’t die every time in the sim.”

  He poked her chest. “No? But today, if you screw up, it’ll be for real.”

  “Jeena’s going to be with me. I don’t think she’ll let me screw up. Besides, it’s her jump-jet. She’s not going to let me trash the thing.”

  “I just wanted to make an impression on you. There’s a hell of a lot of ribbons here.”

  “I promise to be careful.” She kissed him on the cheek.

  He rubbed his fat nose. “Do better than that. Everyone on deck is watching. They know it’s your first time out. Did Larkin tell you about the collection?”

  She nodded.

  “Not everyone likes to take second place against a woman. Be careful and don’t screw up.”

  “I’ve had better pep-talks.”

  “Tough. I just wanted to remind you why you’re doing this. It’s not for fun or for glory. It is fun and glorious to fly a jump-jet, but we’re doing this to get you away from your sponsor. It won’t work if he suddenly finds out about you. You don’t need your sponsor’s permission to enter, but he can pull you out of the competition. Keep a low profile, chickadee.”

  Her eyes widened. It’s not that she’d forgotten, but he had a point. The thrill of this other life outside the Confinement Deck infected her with a sense of normalcy. When she was here, she could forget about being a prisoner, a slave.

  “I do remember. And thank you. It’s easy to get caught up in all of this.” Elise fingered the black ribbon on her chest.

/>   You see? It’s not just me. Listen to him. Malice purred in agreement.

  He snorted. “Humph. Look, Jeena’s waiting for you at the jump-jet yard. I’m supposed to take you over.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  Dove led the way past the long lines of ships. About a third of the berths were empty. Loadmasters in burnt orange jumpsuits filled ships’ holds with cargo, while blue mechanics swarmed the rest.

  This deck held forty ships, forty men willing to put money down for the chance of a newbie to make it on the jump-jet circuit. The ground crews waved in greeting or jerked their chins in acknowledgment. She got thumbs up from the red clad pilots as they passed.

  Jarvis Darmel scowled as she and Dove walked by. He was a member of the loadmaster conclave, a solid worker and a harsher boss. He’d loaded cargo for one of Jeena’s trips and Elise managed to get in his way. One of the crates had tipped over and spilled its load of parts. Jarvis blamed her and hadn’t forgiven her for distracting him. He insisted she address him as Mister Darmel, the only person on the deck to demand the more formal name.

  “Don’t mind old Jarvis, chickadee. Some men just think women should stay in their quarters all day long. Doesn’t make sense to me. Shoot, if I had a wife who worked all day long, I’d stay in quarters myself. Would it come as a surprise to know he contributed a large share to that collection of yours?”

  Elise jabbed him in the ribs. “Really?”

  That would be a surprise. Jarvis didn’t like her and made a point of letting her know it. Perhaps she’d been too harsh on the man?

  They exited the commercial flight deck and navigated the corridors to the jump-jet hangar. Long rows of small crafts decorated the space. They reminded her of dragonflies standing at attention with their bi-wings spread and ready for flight. Three large thrusters sat at the rear of the craft and a delicate canopy perched at the very front.

  They glittered in the harsh light as each jump-jet flashed its unique array of colors. It reminded her of walking through an iridescent swarm.

  They approached a black and red jump-jet with four iridescent purple and blue wings. The tail thrusters were painted black with trails of red and purple fire racing down the fuselage.