Claimed Possession

by Cari Silverwood

  Killing...this was something he now knew he could do.

  So easy when the victim was such a pitiful, insane creature. This would be mercy.

  First, he would drill his way down with his brain tendril and carefully, very carefully, he would find the source of its ability to move from animal to animal then use those animals’ fleshy systems and neural tissue.

  JI turned his sensory systems inwards and probed deeper, into the tissue of the mech spider-wolf.

  Come out, come out wherever you are...

  It took him some time, for he was dealing with a thing that already had experience at invading others. This was fraught with danger. He fought mini-battles of viral thoughts, ripostes, flanking attacks, and brutal charges that tried to cast him from his own mind.

  Step by step he fought inward to the core, collecting crucial data.

  He won.

  By the end, he knew what he had to do to take over an animal’s brain, and he knew without a doubt that doing it would drive him insane within three years, plus or minus one point two years.

  That accomplished, he stood, he placed the skull of the creature beneath his foot and he trod on it, crushing it into the floor until it was dead, dead, dead.

  Killed.

  The data he’d mined from the poor insane mechling was difficult to digest. Over the next few days, he turned it over in his mind, while they found and carefully excavated the unexploded DRAC missiles from their predicted sites. All the intact missiles were forward of where the swathe had halted.

  They recovered three of these weapons and Osta engaged both him and Ari to ensure they would still explode if they hit a swathe ship. Piggy backing them onto Scav rockets was not simple.

  Worst of all, he had moral quandaries. He’d spoken to Osta before and had again requested a discussion with him.

  They sat in the cleared area before the warbug. Osta lay back against a warbug leg with a blanket behind and beneath him, and a canteen of Harash to sip. He, JI, was not relaxed, though he too sat on the ground...making a dent in it.

  If he became animal, would he too need blankets to sit? So many problems happened to animals and people that did not bother him.

  “You’re worried about how many these DRAC missiles might kill, JI?”

  “I confess I am, Osta.” He nodded, filtering the images seen by his sensors to decipher Osta’s body language. The man never blushed, though his heart sometimes accelerated. “I’ve seen people die. I hate it. Will children die? I swear I will not be a part of arming missiles that will cause genocide and vast devastation. If this stops the Royal Swathe, won’t this occur?”

  “No. I plan to halt these ships but they should be able to transfer their people to another. The ship’s armor will divert most of the force, but we will aim at the main treads. There will be deaths, I confess this.” He took another swig. “I’ll give Sawyer time to get ship data as long as he also brings me a whole dump of the rest of the ship’s system. It will help us plan for the future.

  “But not too many deaths?” Osta was perhaps distracting him. The tricks people played in conversations...

  Osta nodded. “Just enough damage and death to convince the Mekkers they need to seek a new solution with us. To stop destroying towns when they want to. To stop killing us so readily when they think we aim to attack. Most times, no one did.”

  “So this is, as Sawyer had said, a bargaining chip?”

  “Yes. Happy, JI?”

  “I will trust you, Osta. Same as I let you teach me to lie and tell Sawyer you’d killed many women. It seems to have worked.”

  “It seems to have, yes. I call that a mild lie. The girl needed incentive. It’s true I don’t want her loose and free, but from what I’d heard, she’d have run from him.”

  “You are a great matchmaker, sir, and I now know how to lie.”

  “You do, JI. It’s a technique that is sometimes needed when dealing with people. I know you love truth, but lying gets things done. Remember that.” He raised the canteen.

  “I will. I suppose I am a matchmaker too. My one last concern regarding lies is that I have heard Sawyer say lies can be a two-edged sword. Meaning they can bite the liar sometimes. Or hurt other people.”

  “This is true. Pick your lies carefully. I think with this one we did well. The main danger was if Ari tried to kill me.” He grinned. “She hasn’t.”

  “Yet.” JI felt it prudent to state that. The lie experiment wasn’t over.

  Osta only grunted. “You said you don’t want to be anything more than Sawyer’s helper, JI?”

  “Yes. I will go in with him, guard him as much as I can, and I will subvert and invade the ship’s systems, recover the data.”

  “There are many warbands following the predicted route of the swathe, waiting for me to return. It’s a pity you still won’t kill. It is what you were designed for and would give me an advantage in battle.”

  “I am sorry, Osta. I will not kill.” For you.

  This time Osta only sighed.

  He’d lied a little then. Perhaps it was a big lie. JI hoped it would not come back and bite him.

  Chapter 39

  Osta’s plans went ahead. The missiles were packed aboard the warbug, and they set off to rendezvous with other warbands in the predicted path of the Royal Swathe. The rolling, thumping gait of the craft again took a while to adapt to. They had enough food, and Ari had made herself a useful member of this warband, as had JI.

  Even the jaggs became accustomed to bringing some of their kills back to the warbug for the Scavs to cut up and cook. Without them bringing in extra meat, rations would’ve been scarce.

  They were heading for a war, and that made Ari fearful.

  The days went past, and each day, at a time Sawyer set, she would go to him and climb on his lap, or sit at his feet, or obey other instructions he might give her. Most of these times they talked. She never made herself come without permission...which was a terribly obvious admission of her own interest in this predicament he’d created.

  Not being allowed to come often left her wanting and squirming, made her lower abdomen ache, because he’d deliberately take her to the very edge of orgasm, and leave her there, mindless and gasping.

  Even so...she found she liked her visits. Partly because they talked, partly because his wish to control her, his need for her to visit him – and she did see this as his need as much as hers – it made her feel nurtured and as if she was indeed not alone.

  Alone. He’d made her see it as what it was – a way to hide. It stood out like a red sign on a long, deserted road to nowhere.

  The talking...

  They talked about Osta and his war on the Mekkers. About people. About how she’d gained her mechanical skills. They even talked about her, as he termed them, anti-dick powers. That it was rooted in fear was obvious. He was the only man who had overcome it and that both amused him and had made him more curious about her.

  She didn’t quite understand why, but it had. He liked the challenge, he said.

  Hmmm.

  His anger at her and his past aims for revenge were touched upon. That he elaborated on those when he had her pinned on his lap while he spanked her and fingered her was ironic and annoying.

  They were in a small bunkroom with a bed and this leather-upholstered seat that nestled against the wall. Anyone who wanted some privacy could ask to use it. Though a simple room, it had become their place to go to for these talks. Talks and whatever else he decided was the fun for the day.

  Fun, she saw this as fun...so very telling.

  He was twisting her, but she liked it. Did that matter?

  He leaned over her, hand resting on her too-warm butt. “Since I won you as a result of my revenge, I can’t complain.”

  “Not yet,” she dared to murmur, while contemplating on how nice the pain had become, now it settled into her, like hot rain. He hadn’t won her yet.

  He chuckled and slid fingers inside her, stretching her entrance painfully unt
il she hissed and clawed her fingers at the upholstery. “Why do you think I have you come to me daily?”

  She hated this. Answering questions about his manipulations of her seemed horribly intimate, even more so than his fingers. “Because...” She sighed, trying to ignore the building sensations. “Okay, why, Sir?”

  “Roll over.” He removed his fingers from her pussy and helped her turn until she lay on her back. He tucked his arm beneath her thighs then toyed with her hair while smiling in that devious and slightly evil way. That smile was him in one gesture.

  “Every moment I have with you, every part of you I handle and fuck and caress, I’m claiming you. Bit by bit, morsel by morsel, I’m claiming you.” He took her hand, raised it and bit her fingers, one after the other. Then he added, quietly, “Soon, you won’t know what to do without my touch on you or my words in your head.”

  “Such arrogance, Sir.”

  “You like it.”

  Gods, yes, she did. Ari shivered.

  They talked about the jaggs, and about how he might find Fern if they could unearth some information about her on the Royal Swathe. She empathized with him. For him to be so sad over his sister was terrible, tragic.

  Talking was such a simple thing, and it nourished a part of her she’d lost since childhood. She’d forgotten how to talk to people and enjoy their company, especially men. She’d become a loner in the midst of hundreds of slaves, guards, employees, because she’d wanted to be.

  Sawyer still scared her at times. She knew what he was capable of, but he was determined to show her his better, more just side, and she began to wonder if he was falling in love with her.

  Strange, to think that.

  Her? Love was difficult to contemplate when her partner was this man.

  Even now, his favorite daily activity when she arrived was holding her over his lap and spanking her.

  Sawyer was claiming her...

  Revelations about herself were on the menu all the way to the Royal Swathe.

  What he did to her, said to her, it was impossible not to melt.

  It was just...

  Just...

  That he wanted her to be his slave at the end of this.

  She still didn’t want that.

  She accepted she wanted him and wanted to be his. Dearly wanted this.

  But the impossibility of reconciling who she was with Sawyer’s need for a slave tore at her.

  Tears came to her most nights.

  They reached the gathering of the warbands – a small army hiding in the shadow of the Royal Swathe, and she had her first argument with Sawyer that she actually won – even if it was because Osta came down on her side. If Sawyer and JI were going into the landship so was she. Her mech healing and manipulating abilities might be crucial.

  Sawyer might’ve given her the dirtiest look, but she was going.

  So much for being his slave...

  Chapter 40

  Watching the missile trucks hare off after the rear ships of the swathe, knowing these were the trucks carrying the DRACs, was enough to make Sawyer nervous. This might be his one and only chance to find out where Fern was, and if she was dead or alive.

  JI had tried to ensure her survival but the probability he’d succeeded was low. After this, even if he obtained the data with the co-ordinates of her ejection from the ship, he then had to go there and search.

  He might find her body...or what was left of it. He swallowed the bitterness.

  Ari sat beside him in the back of this truck.

  She was determined to come with him on this assault, and Osta supported her, which made it near impossible to stop her. What the ever-loving fuck. If they’d had another session together he’d have caned her so she couldn’t walk, fair or not. It was better than letting her come with him and maybe die.

  The irony was he thought she wanted to come because she’d become attached to him as well as to JI. Her skills were a secondary reason.

  The other irony...this long gun of his, the pattern on her had emerged, after all those days of using her, shooting, the meditation. The black tendrils were the thorns of a vine. The tiny red spots? Not flowers, no. Hearts were growing on his weapon. Sawyer smiled.

  He hadn’t shown her and wasn’t sure he would. Wrong place, wrong time.

  The Scavs knew how ingrained were the habits of the Mekkers – always a concern for anyone guarding anything if they had predictable routines. The enemy knew what you’d do and where, unless you regularly altered your schedules.

  The Ram scouts always patrolled here. The Sniker scouts went there. Plot it, plan it, and you had the places to hit where you could likely succeed. Osta knew what he was doing.

  The battle began.

  Missiles and rockets buzzed and roared across the sky, making crisscross black-and-blue patterns; trucks were getting strafed and exploding; men were hunkering down in positions and shooting back with long guns and heavier armor-piercing guns. The landships chugged and chewed onward, away from where his team waited in this truck. Most of the fighting was off to the flanks.

  The DRAC-carrying trucks though, he had followed those. All were intact. They reached firing distance and the DRACs rose on spears of blue, shooting toward the center of the treads of the three ships that carried air-mobile scout ships such as Rams and Snikers. The other landships would have some armaments, but these three were the targets, and the biggest of those was the Royal landship.

  His target.

  He hoped the protection JI had installed would stop the radiation affecting his circuits.

  Explosions bloomed on the sides of the three ships, in quick succession, then snuffed out. The holes torn seemed small, too small. His heart sank.

  They waited as smaller battles were fought then slowly something odd happened. The ships in the air fell from the sky, one after the other. Most went straight into the ground. Some spiraled in, engines screaming as they spun, but all were out of control. The ground trembled with the shocks. The three struck landships veered sideways. Two collided, grinding at each other with a monstrous sound. Pieces of them flew into the air, silhouetted against the smoky sky as they fell.

  “Let’s go!”

  Their truck revved and shot from this hiding place in a ravine. On board were himself and Ari, a driver plus eight men crammed into the back. JI would follow in a truck containing only himself and a driver. He couldn’t run fast anymore with his injured leg.

  The majority of the warbands would keep the Mekkers from reinforcing the ships the DRACs had damaged. Once aboard, if they could get aboard, their time would be limited.

  Their goal – raiding the ship’s system – was an added extra, according to Osta, and he hadn’t committed much in the way of resources, but the men were respected warriors. His main aim was to bring the fight to the Mekkers for the first time in generations.

  “You ready?” Sawyer clasped Ari’s hand in his, while studying the armor the Scavs had given her.

  Ari nodded. With her white hair and the red coat she’d donned over her black armor, he could’ve taken her out and fucked her on the spot. Guess he had a thing for girls in armor.

  “You’d better survive, girl. Or else.”

  She gave him a weak grin. “You too.”

  The truck rocked over the ground, slamming everyone about, but he kept a death grip on her hand.

  “If you want to stay, just say. We can stop and throw you out.”

  Her mouth set. “No. Again. Shhh.”

  Shhhing him should be an offense punishable by gagging. He couldn’t help it and muttered, “Should’ve brought a gag.”

  That her tongue came out, just the tip, and she grinned... He shook his head in exasperation.

  They made it to the hull, and by then, the landship was barely crawling forward. They hit a secondary landing bay along with about fifty other Scavs, climbing up with nets and ladders on powered hooks to snag the ship above. Only three Mekker soldiers fired on them, and they were dispatched quickly. Their bodies
were left on the floor, pooling blood, as Sawyer led the warriors toward their objective – a ganglion of the ship’s system where the routing of signals would take place.

  Slaves who’d been resold to grounders had been used to map the interior.

  Twenty men had stayed to secure the bay.

  He kept Ari at the middle of the pack, and they lost only one man on the way.

  The bodies of groaning Mekkers were everywhere – in the corridors, in open markets, stumbling from rooms.

  “Only shoot the ones that seem a threat!” They needed to conserve ammunition.

  What had affected the Mekkers? Concussion? Whatever it was, it’d saved them from having to fight their way in. Now he was here, he could see that Osta’s calculated path to the ganglion was far too long.

  They found and spread into a wide, dome-vaulted area then walked across grass. Still no one opposed them. The ganglion room was here. It was circular, and in the very middle, with a column on its roof rising all the way to the center of the transparent dome.

  JI arrived at his shoulder, as they breached the door. “Do you know what afflicts them, Sawyer? I have suspicions.”

  “You do?” He shouldered past the man who’d ruptured the door lock then gestured at the innards of this small room. “Yours, JI. Suck up that data, please.” He prayed this would stick in his faulty memory. “And if you find out what afflicts the Mekkers for sure, you tell me.”

  Two Mekkers lay dead on the floor. No wounds. He kneeled and turned one of them over. Their skin was so blue it was close to black in places. “What is this?” He looked up. “No one has any feelings of illness?”

  “No.” One of the Scavs guarding the door glanced in. “Osta said to tell you it’s a known effect of the DRACs and not to worry. It’s not infectious.”

  He said what? Why was this only coming out now?

  JI was muttering and plugging his leads into the battery of connections on a wall console.

  Ari...she was squeezing past the guard.

  “You need me?”

  “No. You needn’t have come. They’ve not sabotaged a thing.”