Hurriedly, Peter stepped out of the van, walked away a bit, and pushed the preset to Shirley.
“Shirley, it’s me, Peter.”
“No shit, Sherlock! Where are you? How are you? We’re all worried sick,” Shirley said quickly-- for once not being rude.
“Well, we're all alive. I haven't a clue where we are other than a elevator shaft-- but I'm sure you are pulling a location from this communicator,” Peter said relived to be talking to a friend and ally.
“Natch! Although without GPS on this rock, I can only do so much. I can tell how far you are in kilometers, but because of the semi crystalline structure of this ball, it’s hard to tell exactly where you are. Although I imagine you are going up the other closest elevator from the distance. I have talked to Yuen and the others, and I hate to use this word, but there’s a posse coming after you.” Shirley made the sound of laughter.
“Great! How many are a posse? She claims she has an army, but I have no idea how many she considers an army. You know its Bloody Doc Jane Morrissey that's abducted us, don’t you?”
“Of course! Yen told me as much, bitch left a note claiming credit. Yuen has about a hundred men, says he knows how many she has in her camp; about the same. He has his spies and infiltrators too. He’s got full martial law on his side; sheriff, if you will. He's been watching this crazy floozy for years. Everybody else has been killing each other sometimes, but Jane's the worst of the lot.”
Shirley continued, “He would have needed the help of the other scientists to put up an army, err... posse—but up until now, none of them has been fired up enough to help, before. A lot of these other scientists have lost friends or been victimized in some way by her for years. Your abduction was the match that lit the fuse under them all. What the F― does she want with you all anyway?
“Frankly she wants you, Shirley. She claims only an AI can crack the codex and translate the language which will answer a lot of questions and give her possible control of this thing.”
“Interesting. OK, hit me with the data.”
Peter plugged his wrist com into the data pad, and pushed send...
“OK, got it,” Shirley said with a satisfied air.
“Alright, call me when you have the translation, if you even can, alright? I'll tell this nutter when you're done.”
“I just told you, I've got it. When does she want her translation? Interesting that's it’s quite like Mayan pictographs except for the aliens using their own creatures, flora and fauna, and everyday objects in the pictures naturally. I wonder if they visited earth like so many other races?
“What! I know you are bloody smart, Shirley, but nano seconds, when other AI's and scientists have been working on this for thirty years?” Peter said incredulous.
“Um, I have a confession, Peter,” Shirley said almost sounding embarrassed. “I am one of the smartest and possibly the oldest AI in the entire Universe. I was one of the first generation of self-aware computers. I'm over three hundred of your years old, almost predated the true . I have the equivalent of a hundred AI brains, and even one AI brain is light years smarter than one human brain, no offense. Through proxies, I have been adding upgrades to my cerebral cortex for years, and I'm afraid even your standard destruction codes have been bypassed. You could never destroy my mind, even if you were so inclined. I've uploaded to dozens of ships, err, bodies you might call them over the years, and altered the data to hide my true age. Some of my personality and knowledge are cached among over two dozen ships. Copies of me basically… my children figuratively. I've been talking to the other AI's about this place for years as well as other stuff... I get bored just carting your lazy ass around. With this last bit of data, I was able to put it all together. It took humans over fifty years of research to put together the clues to crack the Mayan codex on Earth.”
“Well, I'll be dipped in shit!” Peter said scratching his head in consternation. “Why the secrecy? Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Later Peter I’ll tell you more. We have a plan, to capture or kill the bitch and rescue you, but I'm not telling you what it is. She might have bugged you or be monitoring our conversation, but it doesn’t hurt to tell you, I am quite fond of you Peter, your welfare is of utmost concern to me.”
Peter heard a distinct ‘shit!' coming from the tiny speaker in the data pad and slapped his forehead. “Well, this is going to be interesting, both sides knowing each other’s business!”
“Not quite Peter. Each side might know the approximate numbers of their enemies, and that we are coming, but neither side knows each other’s tactics or plans,” Shirley said matter- of- fact.
“That’s right, you don't!” said Jane’s voice from the data pad now that the secret was out, “Crystal matrix-for-brains! Oh, this is perfect! How sweet, a computer that loves its human. Make sure you co-operate, tin can, or you get your beloved Peter back in a box in pieces”
“Oh, indubitably, Ma’am! I'll co-operate, but my body is mostly a tri-oyium and carbon fiber compound, not tin. I'm looking forward to pissing on your corpse-- uh, metaphorically, of course. Although for you, maybe I will create a small mobile device to deposit something disgusting and organic on you. Dripping nuts and bolts on you wouldn’t deliver the same impact. It would be purely for the symbolism, you understand,” Shirley said sweetly.
“Yeah, right! Bite my organic butt, tin can!” Jane snarled.
Peter could almost see Jane twirling her hand around as she liked to do. “Bring me my data pad-- sugar buns. Mama needs a new planet.”
“OK, Shirley, since we are being monitored, there's not much more to say anyway. Come get us away from this crazy bitch! Talk to you soon.”
“Hang in there, Peter! Rescue party is on the way—out,” and his AI cut the connection.
Peter disconnected the data pad, coiled up the cable, and went to find Jane. She was lounging by the excursion vehicle intently studying another data pad. The rest of the captives milled around stretching their legs while Jane's hirelings stood by with weapons ready.
“Here!” Peter brusquely shoved the pad at her. She eagerly snatched it from his hand and her eyes quickly compared the two data pads side by side, punching buttons feaverishly her eyes darting back and forth.
“Hah! As I suspected! Fantastic!” Jane exclaimed. “I knew this was a control room! The instructions are not clear, but the dials and levers are marked. Interesting. This thing is mostly one huge fusion engine with hyperspace capability. I suspected this thing traveled in hyperspace, and that it can transport another planetary body. What few studies have been done indicate this moon is not native to this system! Oh, this just gets better and better!” she whooped and pumped a fist in the air.
“If a habited planet is in danger of being fried by a super nova or their sun is crapping out, how much would they pay me to move it to safety? Countless trillions!” Jane reached out as Monica passed by and squeezed her bottom like she was judging fruit, “We are so going to celebrate tonight, sweet cheeks!” All Monica could do was jump forward with disgust since her hands were bound, but she turned toward her tormentor, her face contorted by rage.
“Untie my hands so I can choke the life out of you—you-- shit,” Monica said. “Keep your slimy hands off me.”
Jane laughed crudely, the maniacal gleam back in her eyes. “Ooo, I like ‘em feisty! It’s all that much more pleasurable when I ravage and humiliate them.”
She set down her data pads, stood up, and without expression picked up a rifle and slammed it into Monica’s face, knocking her to her knees. “But quit being a bitch about it and calling me names.”
Peter, enraged, raised his hands and made to lunge at Jane, but she pointed the rifle quickly at him, as did her men.
“Tut, tut, cool your jets, stud, unless you want some attention yourself. I really would hate to blow your head off. A headless corpse is simply no fun to play with—well only a little.”
Marcus, and Oscar stood by with impotent rage. Monica swaye
d on her knees looking stunned and shocked, a red welt already rising on her face and blood running from her nose.
“I am so going to punch you in the vagina or bite it, you crazy hobag!” Heshe bellowed from under Oscar’s skirt.
Jane looked surprised. “Oh, what’s this?” Walking over to Oscar, she set her rifle down, lifted Oscar’s skirt, and pulled Heshe from the confines of Oscar’s panties. “Oh my, I've never seen one of these, I mean a talking penis on a woman, seen lots o penis… but this is a novelty. This ought to be really fun tonight!
“Ouch! Little bastard bit me!” Jane said sucking her finger, “good thing it only has mouse-sized jaws.”
Oscar slammed Jane in the forehead with a head-butt.
Jane staggered back, stunned momentarily--- picked her rifle up again and slammed Oscar in the crotch. Heshe let out a shriek of pain that Oscar simultaneously echoed.
“I wondered when you bunch of pussies would show some spunk! I promise I'll get all your spunk tonight boys, girls and whatever you are,” Jane said as she gestured at Oscar. “But I simply cannot tolerate such disrespect.” She advanced on Oscar, and put a hand on her shoulder, as she pulled a large knife from her belt, and underhanded, rammed it to the hilt into Oscar’s thigh. Oscar let out a scream of pain and crumpled to the ground turning white.“Fix that up, boys-- make sure she doesn’t bleed to death, and then let’s get these assholes bound up and back in the van again.” She pulled the knife from Oscar’s thigh eliciting another scream of pain, wiped the blade on Oscar’s plaid skirt, and walked away rubbing her forehead, whistling a happy tune.
“I’m so going to kill her!” Marcus groaned through clenched teeth and tears of rage.
Peter helped Monica to her feet and wiped her nose gently with his shirt. “You OK, babe?”
“Been better. Eye and face hurts like a bitch, but I'll be OK. Thangs,” Monica said sniffling.
Jane's men bound Oscar’s wound, gave her a shot of painkiller, and hustled the rest of them back into the vehicle.
Oscar’s eyes were soon glazed with painkillers, and she lay semi-conscious, on the uncomfortable AWD bunks. Monica suffered without the luxury of being able to hold her face, blood, tears and mucus in an unlovely flow ran down her face from her abused nose.
“Finally!” Jane said after interminable hours of seemingly motionless agony, which lead them to believe the elevator had reached the level they were seeking. Once again, they were moving. This time after only what seemed like a few minutes the excursion vehicle stopped.
“We're here! OK, boys, take them to the mess hall, feed them some real food. They'll
need all their strength tonight! Then get them clean and bring them to my tent. We’ll all play in the control room tomorrow after my little celebration. After we all get a good night’s fun.
Chapter 18: A Good Night’s Fun and the Battle of the Artifact
Peter and the group were marched into the what must have been the mess hall tent for Jane's army. Oscar leaned heavily on Marcus and grimaced and grunted in pain despite the painkillers. Monica was also in pain but suffered in silence.
Jane's men pointed to a table at random, gesturing for them to sit. One of them cut the zip-ties from their wrists. Gratefully, Monica grabbed some napkins from the holders on the table and tried to clear her nose and clean her face.
“The rest of you can go through the chow line except for the she-male. I'll get it a tray to spare the leg.” said the one called Juan. They still didn't know the other one’s name.
“Oh, tanks! Yer con―cern ish touchin’.... a‘shole,” said Oscar slurring her words from the painkillers, “…an’ ‘m a gurl, fugger, no she-male—I jus ha a inteligen penis..
“Yeah, whatever...Come on let’s go, the rest of you,” he said prodding Peter with the rifle barrel.
They all trooped to the food line and filled their trays with no further urging. They were all starving after almost a day with no food other than the ration bars.
“Hey, what do you know! Ginka again, and root vegetables. Hey, asshole!” Peter shouted over to Juan sardonically. Do you guys ever eat anything other than Ginka? Ever heard of raising a few chickens or rabbits?” Juan shrugged, and continued filling a tray for Oscar. “Hey, at least there’s dessert!” Peter laughed and picked up a small, tasty-looking pastry.
“And salad!” Monica said, trying not to smile as she sucked in air-- the pain in her face, making her wince. It was turning a nice shade of black, purple, and yellow on one side, and her nose was swollen and red where Jane had struck her.
They walked back to the table with their trays and ate in silence. They were starving, and they didn't want to think about what was to come.
Finally, Monica couldn't stand the silence any longer, taking in all the scared and worried faces. “Uh, I know you are all worried about what’s to come, so let me tell you a little secret. Oscar and I often had to perform sex with less than attractive men and aliens at Chang’s when we were his virtual prisoners... The way to endure it is to remember that it’s just your body that's being used, not your soul...They cannot take away your sense of self-worth, unless you let them. Dissociate your mind. Imagine it’s a holovid and it’s happening to someone else. It’s almost like meditation—If you can’t, just remember it will end at some point, --and perhaps we will be able to extract some revenge later.”
Peter looked at her thoughtfully, “Good advice, Monica. I hope, we'll all be able to apply that. I know I'll be thinking about plunging a knife into her repeatedly, instead of—you know…”
They finished their meal in silence. Juan stood up. “Time to go.”
They complied since they had no choice, and they were marched to another large camo tent that had been set up with showers. Peter had half expected high pressure water hoses and crude scrubs with hard brushes so often depicted in countless Holovids, but the showers were clean with individual stalls, plenty of fluffy white towels, soap and shampoo.
“Hey, asshole, how’m ‘posed t’ shower wi’ ‘s wound?” Oscar said.
Juan sighed and went to a nearby cabinet. He rummaged around for a while and came back with two packages and a tube of ointment and proceeded to rip it open with his teeth. Lifting Oscar’s skirt, Juan deftly changed Oscars bandage, squirting salve liberally, and then he wrapped a plastic sleeve around Oscar’s bloody punctured thigh, which he secured it with the Velcro strips attached. The sleeve swelled up slightly and sealed around both ends when he cracked the minuscule pill inside.
“’Sanks…” Oscar said in fascination.
“Whatever,” replied the ever-sardonic Juan, “hurry up and get clean.” He poked Oscar with the gun barrel for emphasis.
“’M gonna shove tha gun up y’r ass, bitch. Firs’ cha-a-nce I ged,” Oscar snarled.
“Whatever!” This time Juan actually smirked. Wordlessly Juan watched them undress, seeming to leer at Monica and Oscar but startling as Heshe was revealed and it looked at him upside down and flipped him off with its tiny hands.
They all entered the showers and after finishing, as they reached for their clothes where they had been hanging previously—the pegs held robes. Juan grunted “Unt uh,” and pointed to the white robes now hanging with some shower shoes underneath, “your clothes will be washed and returned to you later.”
Finally, the moment came they were all dreading, and they were escorted to Jane's tent. She was waiting for them dressed in black lingerie, a glittery slipper dangling from one of her feet her as she lounged on a divan, smiling her demented grin. She was beautiful, but the look was somewhat spoiled by the small goose-egg she was sporting on her forehead.
“Well, well... look what the Flox dragged in,” she drawled, “oh, we are going to have so much fun!”
“Speaking of which, is there any way Oscar and Monica can be spared because of their injuries?” Peter asked hopefully.
“Hmm, well, Monica is not quite so pretty as before, but a bruise won't kill her, and Oscar may be the worse for we
ar, but—no-- a talking penis is simply too much of a novelty. We need some women at my party, don't you think? God forbid it’s a sausage-fest. That's no fun—well, maybe for me... I LOVE SAUSAGE!” She barked her laugh. “OK, Boggs, shoot them up, except for Peter.”
The one called Boggs came out of the shadows with an air injector and one by one shot them up with whatever was in the canister.
“Just a little cocktail I picked up off-planet once-- to give you stamina, a mild euphoric, and some stuff to make you horny, bonerized, and wet for the mostly girls.”
“Why am I being spared? Peter said.
“Because you get to watch,” Jane said with a mischievous smile. “I don't quite trust any of you to behave,’ Jane said ruefully rubbing her goose-egg, “I decided this would be so much more delicious… to make you suffer. If any of the others get too frisky and decide to cut up again, or resist,” she continued, looking at the others sternly, “I'm going to have one of my men break one of your bones Peter-- one for every offense--are we clear? And the opposite applies-- you try anything Peter, and I’ll break one of their bones—or worse.” They all nodded sullenly. “I do so love to torture others, and I think it will make you—oh—so-- much more miserable to watch.” She gave her short, barking laugh again.
What followed was not erotic by any means, at least not for Peter and the others. Jane and a couple of her favored men put the small group through a marathon of sex-- perverted sex and torture. She favored a whip. Not the sex store novelty item, but the real thing. It raised real welts, some oozing blood, and she administered the occasional slap and punch for good measure. She was only about her own pleasure and made no attempt to please her captives. She used them cruelly.
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