by M. D. Cooper
Katrina approached the field’s edge, where Liam stood glowering.
“You’re late,” he growled.
“I don’t exactly get to leave when I want,” Katrina replied. “Trust me, if I could, I’d be here well before the sun comes up.”
“Quota’s still the same, bitch,” Liam said, handing Katrina her case of vials and small scraper. “And you have Dog Two’s quota, too.”
Katrina drew in a deep breath, nodded, and walked to a row that was devoid of any other workers. She knelt beside the first plant and selected a flower, carefully scraping its pollen into a vial.
The sun was bright in the cloudless sky, but Katrina felt better than she had in days. Her skin wasn’t burning—yet, at least—and she was making good time: on her fourth plant in ten minutes.
She stood up and stretched, then walked toward the next plant when a streak of fire hit her back.
“Faster, bitch!” Liam called out. “You’re never going to make your quota before day’s end at this rate.
Katrina bit her lip, reaching around to feel her back, her fingers coming away bloody.
Not if you cut me to ribbons, I won’t.
THE LADY MALORIE
STELLAR DATE: 01.01.8512 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Revenence Castle
REGION: Persia, Midditerra System
Juasa held her breath as the guard rapped on the door to Malorie’s suite.
She had overheard the guards and the workers in the fields talking about the lady of the castle on more than one occasion. To call her capricious would have been a kindness. Still, the woman couldn’t be any worse than Liam’s whip, Anna’s rods, and Persia’s brutal sun.
“Come,” Malorie’s cold voice called from within, and the guard opened the door and gestured for Juasa to enter first.
The suite within was a spacious, multi-roomed affair. Outside, the corridor was stone—polished granite, but still stone. Within, however, Juasa could imagine she was atop a highrise on Bollam, surrounded by the best of everything that modern civilization had to offer.
To her right, a holomirror stood ready, and beyond was an autodresser. Past that, a door led to another room that Juasa suspected to be a wardrobe. Further still was the entrance to what appeared to be an entire spa.
Directly ahead, on an elevated platform, was a large bed, easily big enough for a dozen people. Behind it, a waterfall cascaded down a series of rocks to create a pool of water around the bed. Small bridges arched over the water, granting access to the shrine of sleep.
To her left was a seating area, complete with couches, tables, a bar, and an automaton. That was where Malorie waited.
“Ah, Juasa. So nice of you to join me,” Malorie said with a thin smile as she rose from a chair.
She wore a long powder-blue gown that was slit up the front, right to the top of her thighs. As she walked, Juasa could see her sparkling silver legs, looking almost as though they were jewel encrusted. The dress’s bodice was low, and the woman’s ample bosom nearly spilled out. Her arms were bare, and an elegant choker was fastened around her neck.
Malorie’s hair was down, falling across her shoulders in a silver cascade. Juasa had to admit that, was it not for the sour look on the lady of the castle’s face, she would be quite beautiful.
“I don’t think I had much of a choice,” Juasa said when she remembered that a greeting had been directed at her.
Malorie shrugged. “True.” She looked at the guard. “Leave us, I’m perfectly safe with Juasa here.”
“My lady, Jace—” the guard began, but Malorie cut him off.
“Go!” Malorie shouted. “I don’t care what my husband may have told you. I have access to her collar over the Link. I can drop her faster than you can move, you great lout, now get the fuck out of here!”
The man ducked his head and left the room without another word. Juasa had to admit that Malorie’s commanding presence was impressive. It reminded her of Katrina’s Verisa persona—only Malorie wasn’t faking it.
“It doesn’t look like you need me to help you with your hair,” Juasa said once the guard was gone.
Malorie gave a whimsical laugh. “Of course not, dear; you can see the autodresser there, it takes care of all that for me. Rest assured, though, I’ll put you to good use.” Malorie gave a slow wink at that, and Juasa didn’t want to consider what that could mean. “But to start, I’d just like to get to know you a bit, Ju. May I call you Ju?”
Juasa wanted to run from the room. Now that she was here, it was immediately apparent to her that this was a far more dangerous place to be than the fields.
No…we need intel to get out of this place. Katrina told me as much last night. I’m here on the inside. I can do this.
“I suppose, if I can call you Mal,” Juasa replied.
Malorie laughed. “Bold! I like it. Yes, you may call me Mal, but only when we’re alone. Otherwise I’m Lady Malorie.”
“Of course,” Juasa said with an acquiescent nod.
Malorie sat back down on the sofa and gestured to the bar and its automaton. “Jeavons there will show you how to prepare my favorite drinks, and once you’ve learned, I’ll expect you to serve me personally.”
Juasa nodded and walked to the bar. “What would you like this morning?”
“The usual. Pay attention as Jeavons makes it.”
The automaton placed a tall crystal glass on the counter. Then he reached underneath and drew out another stainless steel cup, a jug of tomato juice, several other vegetable juices, a bottle of vodka, and a small crystal vial.
She paid close attention to the ratios he mixed in, especially how much vodka the automaton added—which was a lot—and then noted the three drops from the vial.
Jeavons placed a second cup over the stainless steel one and shook it vigorously before pouring the mixture into the crystal glass.
He took a step back, and Juasa picked it up and brought it to Malorie, who was staring off into the distance with a distracted look on her face.
Juasa set the glass down on the table in front of Malorie, and then stood back, waiting for her next instructions. A moment later, Malorie blinked, and her eyes focused on the drink and then rose up to meet Juasa’s.
“Ah, excellent. Why don’t you make yourself one, just to try it out? Only you don’t get any of the special additive.”
“The additive?”
Malorie nodded. “The sithri-extract in the vial. That’s above your paygrade.”
Juasa nodded wordlessly and approached the bar to prepare her own drink.
“You know,” Malorie mused from her seat on the sofa. “Having you and Katrina working in that field really increased the other workers’ productivity. I’m working on sourcing more slave labor. We used to have all slaves, but that didn’t work so well, so we moved to more of a feudal setup. But they’ve gotten complacent.”
“I’m glad we were able to inspire you,” Juasa said dryly as she shook her drink like the automaton had.
“Yes, what a little bit of serendipity you and your lover have been. I had been thinking of turning the workers back into slaves, but they’re so much harder to manage then. When they think they have freedom, they keep themselves in line to preserve it.”
The automaton set another crystal glass on the bar, and Juasa poured her drink into it and carried it back to the seating area.
“Let me take a sip,” Malorie said. “I want to make sure you can pull it off.”
Juasa handed the woman her drink, acutely aware of her nakedness, standing so close to another person.
“Hmm,” Malorie said as she handed it back to Juasa. “Close. A bit more vodka for me, otherwise you’ve got it.”
“I assume you have better nano than I do to keep your bloodstream clear.”
“Or I just really like to combine my highs,” Malorie replied with an impish grin. “Now sit, sit, I want to hear all about you.”
Juasa walked around the low table between the two sofas, and wa
s about to sit when Malorie spoke up again.
“Oh, what a fool I am. You have a fine ass, and all, but I can’t abide nakedness on the furniture. We can’t have things getting soiled.”
Juasa sighed. “You won’t find me objecting to getting clothes.”
“Ha! I bet not. Door to the left of the autodresser; there should be some white dresses just inside. Go get one.”
Juasa followed Malorie’s directions and peeked inside the door—which was indeed a wardrobe room filled with outfits, spools of fabric, and tanks of raw formation material that the autodresser could apply to a person. To the right of the door was a rack with five plain white dresses hanging from them.
She picked one up and held it out. It was baggy and unflattering, but it was clothing. Juasa slipped it over her head and pushed her arms and head through the openings, drawing it down past her hips, and shimmying so it would fall in place.
Her skin didn’t scream in agony—though it didn’t feel great either—and she was wearing clothing. Today was looking up. With a smile, she turned and walked back into the main room.
“How nice, that covers up all the patchwork the medtable had to do on you. Now sit so you can finally have your drink.”
Juasa wordlessly complied and sat on the sofa. She reached out for her drink and sat back, taking a sip. The vodka in the mix hit her hard, like a slap in the face, and she wondered at Malorie’s tolerance levels. Nano alone couldn’t manage that much alcohol.
“I understand you were the chief engineer aboard the Havermere,” Malorie said, appearing more interested than Juasa suspected she was.
“Crew Chief,” Juasa corrected. “I ran the teams that worked on ships contracted for repairs. Hemry was the chief engineer. The Havermere was his responsibility, the clients were mine.”
Malorie nodded. “Got it. So you know a lot about a lot of different types of ships.”
“You could say that. Been doing it for some time now. I’m curious, where is the Havermere?”
Malorie pointed up at the ceiling. “At Rockhall, one of our stations in orbit. They’re facilitating some repairs. It’s going to be a handy ship to have around. Larger operations could do with a repair ship in the mix. And they’re so expensive. Good thing we got this one at a bargain.”
“And the crew?”
“In holding. Your old ship only got in yesterday; they had to take a more circuitous route, due to their initial vector.”
Juasa nodded. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the crew. Not all of them had sided with Anna, only to be subsequently betrayed by her—but she had a feeling that many would have, if they’d been given the opportunity.
“They’re a good crew,” Juasa said, deciding to help as much as she could. “You’d do well to keep most of them on—since I imagine that letting them go really isn’t your modus operandi.”
Malorie snorted a laugh. “Very astute of you.”
“So you run this whole planet and the stations?” Juasa asked before taking another sip of her drink.
“The planet is managed by a consortium of…enterprising folk who need a place to call home,” Malorie replied. “Jace and I are on the ruling council. The star system has another layer of oversight.”
Juasa wasn’t surprised to hear a tone in Malorie’s voice that betrayed a desire for the council to contain just two members. Or perhaps one.
“So it’s a pirate haven.”
Malorie shook her head. “Well, here we’re not pirates. Our businesses are completely legal in the Midditerra System. We have letters of marque for all our ships, and everything we grow and export is taxed and on record.”
“Who runs Midditerra?” Juasa asked. “I’ll admit that I’ve heard of it, but never knew much more than it was about a hundred light years rimward of Bollam’s.”
“We like to keep a low profile.” Malorie shrugged. “Attention isn’t our favorite thing.”
What a surprise.
“Does the council here on Persia run the system?”
“My, you sure have a lot of questions,” Malorie replied. “Granted, you’re without Link, and the guards aren’t much for talking.”
“That about sums it up.” Juasa took another sip of her drink and grimaced. “What can I say? I have an insatiable curiosity. It was what makes me a good engineer.”
“I imagine you’ll be around here for some time—if Verisa plays nice, that is. You’ll need to know how things work. The system is run by a woman named Lara; she does a decent enough job making sure all our interests are protected, and takes a hefty cut to make sure none of our…victims…come knocking if they find out where we’ve set up shop.”
“Sounds like a good arrangement,” Juasa commented.
Malorie shrugged. “It has its pros and cons. Now that you know enough to not sound like an idiot, why don’t you run to the kitchen and fetch my breakfast. When you get back, we can talk about Verisa.”
Malorie sent her out of the suite, and the guard—whose name Juasa learned to be Korin—led her to the kitchens.
Juasa found herself salivating at the smells in the room. She stopped just to breathe them in for a moment, only to have Korin tap her on the shoulder.
“Over there,” Korin gestured to a counter where a platter was waiting for her.
Some of the kitchen staff gave her sympathetic looks, while others only tossed her a single glance before shaking their heads and smirking.
“Anything for me?” Juasa asked a nearby man as she looked at the carefully prepared feast on the platter.
“You?” the man asked, looking Juasa over. “She’ll give you scraps when she’s done.”
“Seriously?” Juasa asked. “I’m starving here.”
“Fine,” he sighed and turned to grab a chunk of bread from a basket. “Here.”
Juasa stuffed the bread in her mouth before grabbing the platter with both hands and carefully walking out of the kitchen.
Korin shadowed her as she carried it to the lift and then back into Malorie’s rooms.
“Stars, did they have to raise the cattle while you waited?” Malorie asked.
“Sorry, was just trying not to spill.”
Malorie shook her head. “Try while moving faster next time. You’re lucky I don’t have Korin smack you around a bit to help you remember. Now sit.”
Malorie’s lips held a half-smile, and Juasa couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Juasa sat back down and picked up her half-finished drink, taking another sip while Malorie picked up a small tart and popped it into her mouth.
“So, tell me about Verisa. Where’s she from?”
There was no doubt in Juasa’s mind that Malorie, plus a suite of sensors in the room, could pick up her heart rate, blood pressure, and other stress-tells. She would have to tread very carefully, making all her responses contain some level of truth.
“Sirius,” Juasa replied simply.
“A lot of Sirians seem to dump out of the Streamer,” Malorie said with a laugh. “As evidenced by that aristocratic shithole they call Bollam’s World. How far back?”
Here’s where Juasa had to tell a bold-faced lie. If Malorie learned that Katrina was from the golden age, she’d become far less patient with her information extraction.
“Early fourth millennia,” Juasa said, thinking of the date the Sentience Wars had ended and using that as her truth.
“Must have been after thirty-three hundred for her to have stasis pods,” Malorie replied.
“Huh…” Juasa furrowed her brow. “I thought it was earlier—she didn’t give me a specific date.”
“What other tech does she have on her ship?” Malorie asked.
Juasa shrugged. “I don’t know, I was never over there.”
“Don’t be coy, Ju.” Malorie’s lips wore a predatory smile. “You two had your share of pillow talk. Anna told us how she suspected you two were fucking the whole time she was aboard.”
Juasa thought up something interesting, but not too interesting. “She did say
that she has advanced ES fields, not grav-based ones—which makes sense for the time.”
“ES fields are inferior,” Malorie replied. “Why should I care about those?”
Juasa laughed, now she was in her element. “People just think that ES fields are inferior because they don’t offer as much protection against weapons fire. But when you want to travel at near-relativistic speeds, they can shift stellar—or interstellar—atoms away more…gracefully, I suppose is the best way to put it. They also have lower energy requirements than grav fields—at least, the ones they used to have did. Modern ES fields are shit.”
“What does that mean in reality?” Malorie asked. “What can I sell them for?”
“Well, imagine a ship that could skim the cloud tops of a jovian, but pull volatiles from deep within the planet. Or a ship with a ramscoop so large it can draw in enough stellar hydrogen to run an annihilator.”
“Meaning?” Malorie asked.
“Well,” Juasa tapped her forefinger against her chin. “With the right setup, you could make antimatter on demand. Then your ships could dock at stations without a bottle inspection.”
“Huh,” Malorie grunted. “I can see how that could be useful. What else?”
Over the next two hours, Malorie grilled Juasa on possible tech that Katrina could have knowledge of, or possessed on her ship. Mostly, Juasa made some things up, or talked theoretically about tech she had heard of over the years.
Malorie also asked about Verisa herself. Likes and dislikes, preferences, what pushed her buttons. Juasa did the best she could, keeping her revelations strictly to Katrina’s Verisa persona, and filling in gaps with behaviors from other aristocrats she had seen over the years.
Eventually, Malorie seemed to tire of her interrogation and turned on the sofa, lying down with an arm over her eyes. “That’s enough for now. Why don’t you come here and rub my feet.”
Juasa held back a sigh as she rose from the sofa. She had been hoping that Malorie wouldn’t introduce a physical element to…whatever it was she was doing. But she knew that hope was slim at best.
She pulled off Malorie’s shoes and began to massage the woman’s feet. Malorie moaned with pleasure under Juasa’s ministrations, and after a few minutes, rolled over onto her front.