by L A Warren
The canopy slid back and Jeena stood up from the back seat. “Thanks, Dovey. Hey, Kid! Ready for your first real flight?”
“Are you kidding? Sim’s great and all, but I’ve been itching for this.”
Jeena eyed Elise’s outfit. “Oh luv, please tell me you didn’t put one of those awful ribbons on my student. That’s no way to encourage the girl.”
“You’re right, it wasn’t meant to. It’s a reminder and Elise knows what I’m talking about. Bring her back safely, luv,” Dove said.
Elise piped up. “Am I flying today or attending my funeral?”
“He’s always like this, Kid. First flight jitters. Just ignore him. He’s been a complete pain in the ass the past couple of days. Snapping at anyone who came close as he hung all those dreadful tassels all over his ship. Just horrible company.”
“It’s my first flight, not his, and I don’t have any jitters. Perhaps it’s good someone does.” Elise stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”
The slapping of running feet and labored breathing came from behind them. She spun around. Carek ran up, tugging hard for air. He stopped short, smiled in pain, and held a hand out, palm facing them. He waved them to patience while he bent over and caught his breath.
“Why, Carek,” Jeena crooned from the cockpit. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”
He sucked in air and straightened. Sweat streamed down his face and he mopped it up with a dark green cloth he pulled out of his pants pocket. Two silver discs glistened on either side of his temples.
“You!” He pointed an accusatory finger at Jeena and then gulped in more air. “You didn’t tell me today was her first flight!”
“Oh, dear, did I forget?” Jeena chuckled. “Hm, must have slipped my mind.”
“Did not.” He waved his hand.
“Oh, please.”
Carek glanced at Dove. “Hi, cuz.” His eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Did it slip your mind as well?”
Dove smirked. “Nope.”
Carek frowned but found nothing to say. “Well, at least Elise cared enough to let me know.”
“Hi, Carek. You’re late. You were supposed to meet me at Dove’s ship.” Elise gave him a peck on the cheek. “I even came early, in case you wanted to try out my new sim.” She patted her pocket for emphasis.
“Maybe after?” His eyes lit with anticipation.
“No, sorry. I have to get back right after. I’m pushing my time as it is.”
“My loss,” he said again.
She reached up to his temples and touched the silver discs. “What are these?”
His fingers went to his temple, “Oh, shoot. I forgot to take them off.”
“What are they?” Elise asked again.
“They’re my neural interfaces. I’m supposed to leave them in the lab.” He peeled the discs off his skin and tucked them gingerly into his left breast pocket.
“I didn’t think you were working today. You said you were taking the day off to meet me here.”
Dove interrupted, “You really told him about your flight today?”
“Of course,” she smiled, “he’s my benefactor. He has a right to be here. He gets to see if I blow myself up for real, or just flub my way through.”
Carek flashed his white smile. “I don’t think you’re going to flub anything despite Dove’s horrible sense of humor.” Carek plucked the black ribbon off her jumpsuit. “Here, I’ll just hold this morbid little reminder for you. Cuz, you really need a better sense of humor.”
She gave him another peck on the cheek. “Well, I’m glad you made it. Sorry you had to work. I’d really have hated if you missed my first flight.”
“Me too. Our Conclave Master has everyone working extra shifts. Almost didn’t let me go.”
“Problems?” Dove asked.
“We’re not sure. There’ve been odd glitches in the am-net. Nothing that’s affected critical systems, odd little subroutines that aren’t acting normal. It’s like the am-net is infected.”
Elise’s ears perked up. Her army of subroutines was out there, collecting information, sorting, sifting and other things.
“Don’t really know what to make of it. Master Persins wants it all sorted out before we make it to Malbra. We’re picking up extra shifts, staying over, trying to track down the little buggers.”
Jeena called down from the jump-jet. “Kid, are you gonna fly today or stand around gabbing with a neural mind freak?”
Elise flashed Carek a smile. “Wish me luck!”
She vaulted into the cockpit.
Malice, I don’t care what you think. I’m going to enjoy this. Don’t spoil it for me.
I won’t spoil it for you, sister. Just remember why you’re here.
Like I can ever forget?
“You ready to fly, kid?”
“You bet your ass I am.”
I still don’t see how this helps us to escape. Whimper’s plaintive voice called out from the darkness.
I win the jump-jet competition and that gets us enough money to buy a ship. One of the big ones. Big enough to take all of us home.
Oh, is that all?
Malice cackled. Yes. Easy-peesy-simple-as-pie. And do you know how to get home?
Shut up, Malice. Elise and Whimper shouted as one.
Malice grumbled, but she didn’t leave. In fact, even Shriek came out to watch their first launch. All four of them grinned like fools as the jump-jet blasted out of the Gambit and launched into WOR-space.
The gray void of WOR space wrapped around Elise as she sped away from the Gambit. For the first time in far too long, she found herself free of her prison. Not that she could go anywhere. WOR space confined her as effectively as the walls of the Gambit and she was eager to be free of them, even if only for the span of a jump-jet training flight.
She exited the launch tube with a scream full of adrenaline and victory.
“Cool it, kid,” Jeena warned from the backseat.
“Sorry, it’s just so…incredible.”
Not wanting to make a poor showing of her first real flight, Elise throttled back on the thrusters and entered a wide banking turn. Gambit’s torus slipped back into view, along with a glittering trail of jump-jet course rings.
“You ready to try the rings?” Jenna asked. “Or do you want to practice a few turns?”
“I want to try for the rings.”
Like snarking, the jump-jet simulations Jeena had her complete were virtually indistinguishable from the real thing. Elise was ready.
Ready to attack the rings.
Ready to fly.
Ready to take her first step toward freedom.
In her stunt plan back home, lift, drag, thrust, and weight dictated the laws of flight. To control her plane she used a throttle, rudder, ailerons, and elevators to navigate three-dimensions. A jump-jet didn’t have rudders, ailerons, or elevators. It didn’t use the physics of lift to control its flight. Instead, it had tail rockets, 360-thrusters beneath each wing, and a reverse thruster to stop forward momentum, but the concepts of flight remained the same.
She didn’t have a stick to nose forward for a dive or pull back to climb higher. Instead, she had the pressure of her palms and the tapping of her fingers against the biogel of the control pads. Hours of simulation retrained her brain and re-established muscle memory.
She screamed away from the Gambit and fixed a smile to her face. Jeena coached from the backseat and guided her through the set of training rings. The silvery structures floated out in the sea of WOR space. In competition, there would be fifty of them with five bonus rings. For her practice runs, Jeena set only ten, and Elise attacked them with all the bottled fury and desperation of months of captivity.
This was how she would prevail over the Vendel. Locked in the craziness of a jump-jet competition, she would find a way to free not only herself, but all her fellow survivors. And so she flew and rejoiced.
Chapter Ten
Gambit, Day 202
Elise barely made it back to the Confinement Deck after her first jump-jet flight. She stowed her pilot’s jumpsuit behind a little box at the cross corridor in the service crawlspace and slipped out of the service door when the alarm bell rang.
There was barely enough time to make it back to her bed. She straightened out the sheets and removed all evidence of her nightly ruse. The cupboard opened and she took out a scarlet red dress. The silky fabric floated around her slim frame as the front plunged down to reveal her modest cleavage, and finally, the dress had a back with three ties that cinched the waist.
Guess this means Gregor believes I'm truly trained.
She put on the five bands of Rank with a frown, and then slipped on her shoes.
On her way to training, she ran across Alice.
“Where were you this morning?" Her anxious friend glanced around, looking for WOR-guards and keeping her voice low. "I waited for you at the track.”
“You don’t want to know, my friend.” She practically bounced on her toes, still dizzy with excitement over her first flight.
She had hit every ring on the circuit dead on. The grey sea of WOR-space made finding the silver rings challenging, but she’d located every single one. Even the bonus rings, which shifted wildly on approach, hadn’t eluded her skill. Carek confided that she’d beat Jeena’s first flight time, smashing a two-hundred-year-old record.
Alice pulled Elise out of her reverie. “Interesting dress. Is it something new?”
“Gregor’s doing. He’s trying to tell me he believes I’m officially his well-trained dog. Evidently, once we’ve been cowed by the WOR-guards, they let us wear dresses with backs. Before that, they don’t want to ruin the dress with the strike of the whipstick. I guess he considers me tamed.”
“Are you?”
“In an odd sort of way, yes and then again, equally no. It depends on who you’re talking to.”
“I thought I was talking to you. Is there more than one of you?”
Elise smiled. Was there? She didn’t know.
“How are you doing with him? It’s hard with Edgard. He’s kind enough, but I couldn’t imagine having the Emperor as my…” Alice’s voice trailed off groping for the word.
“It’s hard to say isn’t it…master?”
“At least we don’t have to call them that.”
Elise took in a breath and blew it out slowly. “To answer your question, it’s very hot and cold with Gregor…like I'm not really in control of how my body reacts to him. I don't understand it, except it has to do with the Activator.”
Alice giggled. “I get that, but there's no hot for me. Edgard is totally hands off. I swear Vendel men are prudes.”
“They’re not. The Vendel view intimacy differently than us. Trust me, in their minds, Vendel men have a lot of imagination.”
“What does that mean?”
There was no way to explain the snarking pad to Alice without revealing everything, and that would put Alice at risk.
“Only that when Edgard decides to touch you, it will mean a lot more to him than it does to you. There is nothing casual about sex in this society.” Nothing casual unless it was at the end of a snarking pad.
They arrived at the Fifth Rank WOR classroom. A few women trickled in behind them. All the vlor’ lords were present, including Gregor. The doughnut shaped tables had been removed and double rows of pillows stretched out down the length of the room. In between the pillows, identical flat gray stones stretched in a line. On top of each stone, a flash of steel glinted in the bright lights. Instead of greeting Elise, Gregor remained with the other vlor’ lords.
Alice stopped short. What’s this? She used their personal code, not the one known to everyone else.
I don’t know.
Only two High Tenders were present: High Tender Marcus and High Tender vlor’Martund. They stood at the front of the room. High Tender vlor’Martund held his gel-flimsy in hand.
High Tender Marcus cleared his throat. “Over this past cycle, we have been testing your skill of the Bar. Most of you are progressing nicely through the first skills of the Rod. Congratulations. All of you have passed the Bar skills. We are delighted with your progress. Today we celebrate the Blood Rite.”
High Tender vlor’Martund checked his gel flimsy and lined the women along the rows of double pillows. As each took her place, her lord came to sit on the opposing pillow. The women were instructed to kneel and to remain silent.
WOR-guards filed into the room once all the women were in position. At the front of the room, a pair of cushions sat apart from the others. Gregor's steel gaze captured hers and he gestured for her to join him there.
A long, sharp knife perched on the gray stone. The expressions on the faces of her fellow prisoners mirrored her emotions: fear, grief, dismay, and hopelessness warred within her. In stark contrast, interest, curiosity, and eagerness bloomed on Sarah’s face.
Gregor’s mood was unreadable and steel glinted off his eyes to match that of the long blade resting on the stone. More WOR-guards filed into the room and took up position all around.
“Good morning opés, the dress flatters you.”
“Gregor, good morning.” She wanted to ask more, but his eyes cautioned her to silence.
With the positioning of the cushions, her back was to the room. Gregor faced the assembly. She followed what happened by the booted steps of the High Tenders, tracing their progress around the room by sound. One pair of boots was known only all too well. A cold chill ran up her back.
Memories of hanging by her wrists, day after day, waiting for his approach, dreading his arrival and wishing she were dead, flooded her mind. Sometimes, he had let her hang to build the anticipation to an agonizing climax. Once, he'd let her hang for almost the entire two hours of Tender Training, coming only in the last ten minutes to drag the braklav along her body. That had been one of her worst days.
High Tender Marcus stopped behind her and she couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath. “You will place your hand, palm up, on the stone in front of you. Obey your master and do as instructed. My lords, you know your role.”
Elise didn’t move. Shriek refused to come out. Whimper cowered in the dark, pulling shadows around herself to disappear. Malice babbled incoherently, and someone else watched from the cracks of Elise's mind.
She begged for strength from her sisters, but they abandoned her to face whatever this was alone.
A strong grip encased her hand and shocked her out of her thoughts. Her eyes widened and she stared into the concerned face of the man who'd become her master.
“Where do you go, opés, when your eyes glaze over? I know you don’t dare disobey, so your hesitation must be something else.”
It took a moment. She blinked several times and swallowed the lump in her throat. A deep breath helped steady her nerves, but did nothing for the rising tide of terror swirling through her veins.
“Forgive me, Gregor. The sound of the High Tender’s step brought me back to Tender Training. I lost myself to my fear.”
“There’s no reason to be afraid.”
She cocked an eyebrow. A bold move to taunt him, but she'd learned he appreciated her honesty. “If you were sitting in my place, Emperor vlor’Malita, my Gregor,” she sighed, “would you believe those words? Or find comfort in them?”
His eyebrows shot up at her use of his official title, the one she wasn't allowed to use, but then drew together again when she used ‘my’ next to his given name.
“I suppose not." He gripped her hands and gave them a squeeze. "I will be honest with you, the Blood Rite will hurt, but it will be over quickly. If it makes you feel any better, I will experience much more pain than you. Place your hand on the stone as the High Tender instructed. Your compliance is required. Your obedience expected. It is not my intent to bring you more pain. I’m sorry for that, but this is necessary.”
She sniffed and tears fell from her eyes, but she complied. Her fingers brushed the stone and her palm turned up.
Gregor placed his left hand over hers and pressed down. His fingers encased her wrist and held her immobile.
High Tender Marcus came to examine them. Gregor nodded and gripped the knife in his free hand.
“My lords, if you are not ready speak now.” High Tender Marcus vlor’Vardhal waited. After a length of time, while Gregor’s hand encased hers in solid steel, he spoke again. “Now, my lords, claim your s’vlor.”
Time seemed to slow as Gregor thrust the knife through the air and into the top of his hand. Her mind processed his action with cool detachment.
The knife pierced his skin and slowed. Gregor came onto his knees and drove the knife deeper. His face twisted in pain. A tiny prick caught her unaware as the tip of the knife pierced her palm. Blood poured out of his wound and pooled on the gray stone.
The heat of his blood burned and she pulled back, but his grip held her firm.
He continued to press down with the knife. The prick of pain turned to fire as he buried the knife to the hilt. Then the tip of the blade made contact with the stone beneath her hand.
Screams echoed around the room, but not from Elise. The pain shocked her, but she had endured far worse pain than this. It was nothing compared to the braklav. Gregor grimaced and took three deep breaths. Sweat beaded his brow and his dark tattoo danced.
Elise breathed easily. High Tender Marcus had taught her how to control her pain; how to be in command of the sensation, so that he might give her even more. This was gruesome, but tolerable.
The knife locked their hands in a grisly union of flesh and steel. Her blood joined his, pooling on the stone. Gregor lifted their hands a few inches above the stone and rolled them over. Her blood now flowed onto his skin. It would've dripped into his wound; except the knife was in the way, but then he grasped the hilt of the blade and yanked it out.
As the blade exited her skin, the vessels, freed from the pressure of the steel, bled with renewed force.
Gregor placed the knife to the side and then pulled her hand back down to the bloodied stone. This time their positions were reversed. His hand rested on the stone with her palm upon his. His free, uninjured hand pressed her bloodied hand down. Her hand slipped on the film of blood separating their hands, but he applied pressure and kept a firm grip.