John Ringo - Council Wars 02 - Emerald Sea

by Emerald Sea(lit)

  "Not too big, thank goodness," Shanea said with a shrug. "I kind of have to clamp down on him. Too quick. He really seems to think it's just a duty."

  "Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am." Megan said, thinking that if it was "just a duty" a test tube and artificial insemination would work as well. Although, somewhere, she'd heard the term "live cover" which supposedly worked better. She shuddered at the thought. I'm a brood mare.

  "Yep. 'Oops, I gotta go now.' And he switches around, too. I haven't been with him in... a while. I mean, I don't know how long. No way to tell time in here."

  "Does he just... arrive, do one of the girls and then leave?"

  "Usually. Sometimes he stays for a while talking and then chooses another."

  "Just one of his myriad 'duties,' " Megan snorted.

  "I guess. And he's looking worse and worse, too."

  "What do you mean?" Megan had gotten the edges pinned and took up one of the fine needles. Shanea had insisted on little needles for the silk and Megan found herself squinting at the hole, trying to get the incredibly fine thread to fit the even finer hole in the needle.

  "Well you saw him," Shanea said. She was apparently working on one breast piece of a bra and her movements were far defter than Megan's.

  "He looked old and worn out," Megan said. "From the little I saw. But I thought that was a disguise?"

  "The old might be," Shanea said, picking up one of the needles and trying to thread it as well. After only a few tries she got the thread through. "Try licking it."

  "What?" Megan said, aghast at the apparent non sequitur.

  "The thread, silly," Shanea said with a grin. "Try licking it. It makes the end a little smaller, it slides in better and it stays... firmer." She grinned again.

  "Harem humor," Megan snorted. "Great." She tried licking the thread though and it was easier. It still seemed to take her forever to get it though the needle.

  "See? Lick it and it goes in easier," Shanea grinned.

  "Shanea?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Once is funny; twice is annoying."

  "Okay."

  "You were saying Paul is looking worse?" Megan said after an overlong silence.

  "Yeah," Shanea replied after a moment. "He just keeps getting thinner and weaker-looking. Like he's sick or something."

  "Or wondering if destroying the world is a really good idea?" Megan muttered.

  "No. He's really worried about people, though," Shanea said. "It's really all he talks about, how hard it is for the people."

  "Maybe he should have thought about that before he tried to overthrow the Council," Megan replied quietly.

  "Well if Sheida hadn't fought back..." Shanea said, hotly.

  "Shanea, let's not argue about that, okay?" Megan smiled. "You're the closest thing that I've got to a friend in here. I won't say anything else bad about Paul, okay?"

  "Okay," Shanea replied, shrugging. "I mean, I wish it hadn't happened, too. But if Sheida had just seen what he was trying to do..."

  "I'm sure she did," Megan said, as placatingly as she could. "But, really, let's not argue about it, okay? We can't do anything about it. And, you're right, Paul is probably a nice guy. I'm sure we'll get along fine."

  "Well, he is a nice person," Shanea said. "He's been very nice to us."

  "Of course," Megan replied. He gets sex whenever he wants it and all he has to do is give us some board games and cloth. Great guy.

  "Dinner time," Christel announced, as she opened up her door.

  "I'm not really hungry, yet," Megan whispered.

  "Eat it while you can get it," Shanea replied. "Three meals a day, none in between."

  "What about the sewing?"

  "We'll just leave it here," Shanea said, standing up and touching Amber on the arm. "Ami, time for dinner."

  "Dinner," Amber replied, standing up and walking towards the dining room. She had a graceful stride and, again, Megan had to wonder what she had been like before.

  "Settling in?" Christel asked.

  "Yes, ma'am," Megan said, trying to imitate Shanea's bright vacuousness.

  "Have you ever sewn before?" Christel asked, stooping and picking up the pieces of fabric.

  "No, ma'am, but Shanea is showing me how," Megan said, gritting out a smile.

  "What is this?" Christel picked among the fabric, looking at the way it had been pinned. "This isn't a shirt or something, is it?"

  "No, ma'am," Megan said.

  "It's more of a breast-band," Shanea interjected. "It's going to be quite fetching, really. I hadn't thought of it, but I think Paul will like it."

  "And a short skirt," Megan continued. "Very short."

  "We'll see," Christel looked at the other girls who had paused to see if the new girl was going to get a tongue-lashing. "Get into the dining room!" She tossed the fabric on the pillow and put her hands on her hips. "We're here to make Paul happy. We make Paul happy by being pretty. Anything that is not pretty doesn't get worn in here. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Megan said as Shanea nodded her head. "I'll do the best I can."

  "Now, go eat," Christel said, pointing. "And don't overeat; half the girls are starting to look like balloons."

  * * *

  When they reached the table the only spaces were at the far end. The food was brought through the door to the kitchens and then served to Christel first who passed bowls down the table. By the time they got to Megan, Shanea and Amber, who had somehow been driven to their end, there was very little left. The meal was the same that she had been served before, roast pork, broccoli and potatoes. The only pieces of pork left were ends and gristly bits, the broccoli was all gone and there was only a smidgen of potato.

  Megan didn't mind, she wasn't particularly hungry, and she gave her servings to Shanea and Amber. But she noticed that several of the other girls had taken huge servings and then eaten barely half of them; as if they were trying to starve the girls at the bottom of the pecking order.

  "Who's the skinny brunette by Ashly?" Megan asked, pointing with her chin at a thin-faced brunette who had started to become one of the "balloons" Christel had mentioned. She was sitting next to Ashly and wolfing down a huge plate of food, even though Megan hadn't noticed her doing anything in the afternoon but sit watching Ashly play backgammon.

  "That's Karie, Karie Szymonic," Shanea whispered. "She likes to start stuff and then Ashly and the others join in."

  Christel was at the head of the table working on a much smaller portion and taking delicate bites. On her right was Ashly and then Karie, across from them was a delicate, birdlike, redhead, who had also taken a small serving. Megan had noticed her earlier doing sewing in the corner.

  "The redhead?"

  Shanea leaned out to look down the table.

  "Oh, that's Mirta. She's okay and Ashly doesn't pick on her because she does the most beautiful needlework. If you want anything nice, you ask Mirta. But she'll want something in return."

  "And, unfortunately, I don't have anything to trade," Megan snorted.

  "You'll find something," Shanea said.

  "When can I stand up and leave?" Megan asked.

  "Not until Christel," Shanea replied.

  Megan continued to observe the other girls covertly. She caught one absolutely poisonous look from Karie, for no reason she could determine. Ashly seemed to be ignoring her so far. She knew from what her father told her that she should try to establish dominance, but the time didn't seem right. And if she made too many waves there was Christel with the threat of the neural whip. And mind-wipe on the other side of that. Neither thought pleased.

  For some reason, her mind kept coming back to the scissors in the store room. Chaining them there was probably to keep the girls from using them on each other. The tiny cloth cutters would be almost useless as weapons, even in a catfight. She doubted that the scissors were secured to defend Paul; he had to have a personal protection field on at almost all times.

  Almost. There's one time when a PPF had
to come down, and that was during sex; any personal intimacy, really.

  Interesting.

  But he'd be able to summon it almost instantly. And practically any damage a person could inflict by hand could be repaired by medical nannites.

  Almost, again. Her father had not talked a lot about his investigations but sometimes she was able to pry information out of him. Sometimes she had wished she hadn't, one time...

  She was about... fourteen. He had been... mean to her for nearly a week. He'd been pressing her, hard, about her boyfriends and what she had been doing with them. Usually he was more than willing to let her do her own thing. As he put it: "I gave you the skills to live your own life and I can't be there all the time. I have to trust you."

  But he'd been... pressing her. He'd gone into what she called "Full Inspector Mode." Who was she hanging out with, were they having sex, what were they like, how old were they, how did they act, how did they treat her? Finally she'd lost her temper with him and told him to mind his own business. And it came out.

  There was a predator who had been stalking little girls. Most of them just postpubescent, as she was at the time. He'd sweet-talk them into a little cuddling, not sex, oh no. Then when their shields were down he would hurt them, confuse them, teleport them out to somewhere and keep hurting them, continuously, never letting them get a moment to even think about summoning shields. He'd rape them while he hurt them and then usually kill them. He'd made a mistake with one, finally, and she'd had just enough presence of mind to call her shields and teleport out so they finally understood what had been happening.

  He'd gone into some pretty graphic detail, probably to convince her of the seriousness of the threat. She hadn't liked it at the time and didn't really like thinking about it now. But that was the answer. But if she managed to kill Paul, really kill him, brain dead fully, against the fight of his nannites, what would she do then? And how to do it, how to hurt him that badly?

  She realized that while she had been dreaming Christel had gotten up without a word and left. Most of the other girls were getting to their feet and filing out as well.

  "What about the plates and stuff?" she asked Shanea, who was getting up and taking Amber's arm.

  "The servants clear them," Shanea said. "Come on, Ami."

  "That's silly," Megan replied, taking Amber's other arm and pulling the girl, who was still eating in very small, fine bites, to her feet. "Why don't we clear?"

  "Because we can't go in the kitchen," Shanea replied. "You can't pass through the door and it zaps you if you try."

  "Oh." So much for that way out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When they reached the main room, they found their sewing scattered all over the place. Her breast band and the other large piece she had intended for the skirt had been cut into ribbons as had the triangular piece Shanea was working on. Karie was standing over the damage with a smirk on her face.

  "Oops," the girl said, looking at Megan. "It looks like somebody had an accident."

  "Oh, that's okay," Shanea said, getting down on her hands and knees and picking through the pillows. "But watch your feet, those pins could jab into your foot and really hurt you."

  Megan looked at the girl, standing there with a vicious smile, and then sensed someone moving up behind her. She suddenly looked to the side where Mirta was watching her from over the piece of complicated brocade she was sewing. The girl raised an eyebrow as if to say: "Okay, what are you going to do now?"

  Megan gave her one, brief, hard look, which she was pretty sure Karie wouldn't notice, and then... dissembled.

  "Yeah, that's okay," she said, at her absolute meekest. "I think there's a pin there on the floor by your feet." She got down on her hands and knees, keeping her eye on the ground, and picked up the pin. "You need to watch yourself, really; you don't want to get hurt." All of this was said in the saddest little humble tone she could manage.

  "Pathetic bitch," Karie said, kicking her in the side.

  Megan rolled with it expertly and came up on one knee in the most helpless pose possible. Amber's knitting needle was right by one hand but she knew if she used that sort of weapon she wasn't going to like the consequences. Two of the other girls had closed on her as well and she was just as positive that showing that much ability would make her a threat, to Christel if not to Paul. She was pretty sure she could turn all three into mincemeat, especially if she used nerve and joint techniques. But it would not be a good thing in any sort of long term.

  "Oh, come on," she whimpered, holding her hands up to Karie. "Can't we be friends?"

  "Like I'd be friends with a pathetic little bitch like you," Karie replied. She darted forward and grabbed Megan's hair, hard enough to bring tears to the girl's eyes. "You think you're better than me?"

  "No, Karie," Megan whined. The other two were standing back, letting the leader have the fun. "I just want to be your friend."

  "You're gonna be my bitch is what you're going to be," Karie smirked. She pulled aside her robe and thrust her crotch in Megan's face. "Lick it, bitch."

  "Karie," Ashly drawled. "Get a room."

  "Okay, I will," the girl said, dragging Megan to her feet by her hair and dragging her down one of the corridors. She pulled open the first door and threw Megan into the room.

  "Down on your knees, bitch," Karie said, striding over to Megan who had rolled, again, to one knee.

  "Please don't hurt me," Megan whimpered.

  "I'll hurt you if I feel like it," Karie said, catching her up by her hair again. "I won't hurt you, much, if you lick me till I come."

  Megan whimpered again and then leaned forward, placing her left hand, lovingly, humbly, on Karie's thigh and then driving a knuckle-punch upward into the girl's crotch.

  Women are very nearly as sensitive in the crotch area as men and, like men, it tends to take their breath away when struck there, hard. It certainly does so when followed up by a rock-hard fist to the solar plexus.

  Then Megan really got to work on her.

  "Mustn't make marks," Megan whispered as she pinched the base of the bully's nose then drove another fist into the woman's gut.

  "Don't want anyone getting upset," she added, slamming one open palm into the girl's right kidney followed by another to the left.

  After the second kidney strike, Megan realized that she was letting her bad out just a little too much and wrapped the sadistic bitch up in an unbreakable hold that included some very nice joint work.

  "Having fun?" she asked Karie, who was whimpering softly and half unconscious from the pain. The last kidney punch had probably been over the edge; the girl was likely to piss blood for a week.

  "Moan," Megan said.

  "Wha...?"

  "Moan!" Megan whispered, fiercely. "Like you're having fun with your new girlfriend." She increased pressure on the elbow joint until she felt sweat bead out on the other woman's body. "You're having fun with me right now, aren't you?"

  "I don't..."

  "Moan!" She gave the elbow an extra twitch and what came out was a gasp followed by a moan.

  "I can take the whole lot of you, but I have no reason to want to," Megan said, softly. "But you need to know that Megan's the top bitch. Say it: Megan's the top bitch."

  "Ooooooah!" Karie moaned. "I can't..."

  "Say it," Megan snapped, bearing down on the wrist this time. "Megan's the top bitch."

  "Megan's the top bitch!" Karie gasped.

  "Now moan like you're having the orgasm of your life."

  "Oooooaaaahooooo..."

  "Lousy acting," Megan said, standing up by pressing a nerve point in the girl's shoulder so hard she gasped. "When we go out there, your acting had better be better. You'd better have a big happy, I-just-came, post-orgasm smile on your face. Moan."

  "Ooooohhh..."

  "Better. I'll be crawling. Don't think you can get your mad out because I'm on my hands and knees; you really don't want me to show you how mean I can get. Who's the top bitch?"

 
"Megan."

  "Moan."

  "Oooooohhhh..."

  "Very good. Much better. I think you like this too much. Who's Megan's bitch?"

  "Karie?"

  "Bingo, moaner. Let's hear a low, growly one this time."

  "I..."