Inherent Cost

by Alicia Cameron

  Instead of the voices in his head from the psychic connection, the next order Jere heard came from a speaker in the ceiling.

  “Slave, remove your shirt.”

  The man’s voice was calm and crisp, and Jere couldn’t help feeling betrayed by the order from the voice that had been gently giving him his instructions through the psychic connection.

  Isis touched the hem of her shirt, looking at Jere with a questioning look. As training demanded, she didn’t protest or speak, but she did pause, waiting, looking like she was asking permission. It was acceptable for a slave to confirm an order from her master; Wren had told him that.

  “Obey,” Jere ordered, nodding at her to confirm. He held his breath, waiting, wondering if she would do it or not. They hadn’t prepared for this at all; nor had Jere heard of such a thing being part of the certification. Isis refused to wear short-sleeved shirts; Jere had no idea how she would respond to an order like this.

  Setting her jaw, Isis did as ordered, standing there silent and small. Jere could feel the shock of the credentialing team when they saw the scars that covered her, and he was somewhat curious as to whether this was the reason why they had ordered her to undress. Had this been in the warning from Arnsdale? Was this a display of power, or a sick exercise in curiosity? He waited, as did Isis.

  “Slave, remove the pants.”

  Isis didn’t need to be told again, she simply did as ordered, keeping eye contact with Jere as she did. He could see the tears starting in her eyes, and he was amazed when she folded the articles before setting them aside, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary. They had never trained for this, never, because neither Jere nor Wren had considered these sort of orders part of the certification.

  “Sir, walk across the room and touch your slave.”

  Jere was shocked at the order, and he felt his eyes widen. Isis glanced down, her body still and tense as she waited, wearing only underclothes.

  “Excuse me?” Jere asked, startled. He wondered if he had misheard the request.

  “Walk across the room and touch your slave,” the voice repeated. “We need to see how she responds to touch.”

  Jere hesitated for a moment, then walked over to Isis, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. She didn’t move, which he was grateful for. Not only was this strange, it seemed highly unnecessary. After a moment, he dropped his hand and waited, casting his eyes toward the wall that he knew the certifiers sat behind. He couldn’t see them, but he stared them down anyway.

  “Continue, sir,” the voice intoned. “Touch her in a more familiar way. Slaves are meant to be used, after all.”

  Jere felt the rage, and he could see Isis tensing up again. There was no way he would do this to her, there was no way that he would let this be done to her or to himself! He was furious at the very thought.

  “That is absolutely unacceptable,” he stated, his voice firm and clear and loud. Isis winced at the volume, but he continued. “I am not going to do something like that in public, and I am appalled that you would dare to suggest it.”

  “Sir, it’s part of the process,” the voice explained through the speaker again. Jere assumed that the man was reluctant to engage very closely through the mind connection at this point. “A slave is expected to tolerate sexual touch, and that needs to be verified. Surely you’re not appalled that we imply your slave can be used sexually?”

  Jere turned his body to glare, recalling Wren’s words to be more confident, stronger, to be all the things that Isis was but couldn’t be right now. “I am taking offense at the idea that you would dare to order a free man to engage in an unwanted sexual encounter!” he declared, his tone rising further. “While my sexual preference is my personal business, be aware that I am not in any way interested in females—the very presence of a half-naked woman in front of me is offensive, and I’ve tolerated it this long because I thought you had a valid reason for suggesting it. At this point, I am feeling very much harassed, and I would like a clear explanation of what is going on.”

  He heard whispers and rustling of papers for a moment before the speaker disconnected, and after a few moments of silence, the man’s voice returned again, a bit chagrined.

  “Of course, Doctor Peters, we would never suggest such a thing or attempt to force you to partake in any activity that you did not feel comfortable with. We had assumed that this was a sex slave, but it is clear from your description that the girl is used primarily as a research and medical assistant, commensurate with her gift in memory ability. We certainly meant no offense, and we certainly didn’t intend to harass or bother you in any way. We’ll move on.”

  Jere nodded, feeling relieved, but still enraged. The thought that someone would even try to force his hand on an issue like this was horrifying. This was why Wren had insisted on getting him to stand up for Isis, to prevent things like this. Had he not spoken up, Jere had no idea what he might have been ordered to do.

  A few more commands were given, both through the speaker and through the mind connection. Jere was quite pleased that the first was an order for Isis to dress herself. A few times, conflicting messages were given over the speaker, described to Jere as a way to see where Isis’s loyalties were, but each time, she passed easily, obeying Jere in spite of anything else she had heard. She kept her eyes on him, as if he was the only person in the world who mattered at all. Jere was beaming with pride, and he knew that they were very, very close to succeeding.

  “Doctor Peters, for the next part, we need to make sure that the slave remains cooperative even when faced with punishment,” the woman explained. “With her watching, you are going to walk to the wall directly behind you, where you will find a small panel with a whip. You are to remove it, walk back to your spot while keeping it in clear view, and then call her over to you. Have her kneel, facing away from you, and once she does, that exercise will be completed and you will be given your next orders.”

  Jere couldn’t help feeling nervous, because, again, this had never been practiced. “Is this a standard part of the certification?” he asked, although he was already walking to fetch the whip. “I’ve never heard of this!”

  “We do different things for different slaves,” she explained, evasive. “Given the history, we feel it is important to verify that the slave can perform according to very stringent standards.”

  Jere seethed, but said nothing. This was revenge for insulting Arnsdale last year. He picked up the whip and held it in front of him as he walked, ensuring that Isis would see it, guaranteeing the stricken, panicked look that crossed her face.

  Once he reached his spot, he stopped, looking at her with what he hoped was compassion.

  “Come here,” he ordered, his own anxiety increasing as she walked over slowly, her face begging to ask why.

  Finally, she reached him.

  “Turn that way and get on your knees,” he ordered, his voice feeling too thick, like it was coated in syrup.

  Isis was still for a moment, looking at him in confusion. Slowly, she started to back away. “I didn’t do anything!” she muttered, increasing the distance.

  On instinct, Jere reached out toward her, hoping to pull her close, hoping her words hadn’t been heard, but as his hand went out, she flinched and moved a few more feet away, eyes wide in panic.

  Jere felt his heart start to race. Failure. That’s what this was. Failure.

  “That was unsuccessful,” he muttered, before the certifiers could have a chance to do so. “What do I do now? Is this a complete fail?”

  “Of course not, Doctor Peters,” the woman told him, a touch of amusement in her voice. “You can correct it. Correct the behavior as you would normally; we will give the next order once we feel that appropriate measures have been taken.”

  Jere tossed the whip aside, resenting the fact that he had ever picked it up.

  “You’re welcome to use that, sir,” the man pointed out.

  “I prefer to use a mind-bind as punishment on this one,” Jere said,
his voice low and threatening. It wasn’t his intent, but Isis went pale at the mention. He waited a moment, increasing the dramatic effect.

  “Isis, come here.”

  Isis obeyed immediately, but she was sobbing as she took the first step. By the time she reached Jere, she looked ready to be sick, and she dropped to her knees next to him.

  “Please, master. Please, no, I’ll be good, I promise! I’m sorry. Please, don’t.”

  Jere felt bad enough that the girl was acting this upset, but what was worse was the fact that she wasn’t acting, and neither was he. She was this upset, and he was going to use a mind-bind on her.

  “You had your chance to be good,” he told her, his voice harsh and empty. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You know what happens when you aren’t.”

  Feeling nauseous, he initiated the mind-bind, the ugly, cruel procedure that he had successfully avoided through all the times she tried to kill herself, through the public whipping, through everything else. He initiated it, and she stilled under his hands, unable to do anything more than blink and breathe, and only because he allowed her that.

  “That seems rather unusual,” a voice commented.

  Jere sighed, realizing he would have to explain himself. He didn’t want to make up an explanation, he wanted to go home, but that wasn’t an option. “Look at her skin. To hit hard enough to hurt would mean doing significant damage, and she’s become quite accustomed to it. The thing that scares her more than anything is a full mind-bind, the lack of control. You saw how upset she became, and your person should have been able to sense it from her psychic reading. This... this is torture for her.”

  A rustling noise was heard through the speaker, and Jere could feel through each of the three free people in the next room that there was a consensus.

  “She came obediently when I called her to me because she knows these are the consequences,” Jere lied easily. “I should have mentioned it beforehand; she knows I wouldn’t choose to whip her. It’s a waste of my abilities.”

  “Then why did she become so upset when you had the whip?”

  Jere barely had to consider his response. “Illogical situations are frightening. I should never have agreed to something I would never really do. A whip in another’s hand wouldn’t have been so upsetting. A good slave attends to its master’s moods; she knew there was something wrong with the situation. This is expected.”

  “How long can you hold her like that?”

  “Hours,” Jere answered honestly. “She doesn’t fight it, and I have level one superior healing capabilities. It enhances the mind-bind. I could hurt her like this; if I wanted to, I could even stop her heart from beating without expending too much additional energy. I have very fine control, as is necessary for my profession.”

  “You can control involuntary movements and bodily functions?” the woman asked, surprised. “Seeing that would be quite impressive.”

  “It’s highly dangerous,” Jere answered, horrified that they were even suggesting such a thing. “I will demonstrate other movements, however, if you’d like.”

  They quickly went through a series of demonstrations; giving Jere instructions through the mind connection, and watching in awe as he controlled Isis’s body, making her raise an arm, turn her head, and kneel. Jere couldn’t help noticing that the girl became increasingly upset by the invasive procedure, but there was nothing else he could do, no other way in which he could demonstrate his control. He refused the more dangerous and invasive procedures, on the grounds that it presented a health risk, but the rest, he complied with.

  After a while, they allowed him to release her, and he withdrew the mind connection quickly. After only a brief moment of disorientation, which Jere rushed to explain was normal, Isis dropped to her knees, cowering and waiting for her next command. She seemed the perfect picture of a subdued slave.

  They gave a few more orders, and Jere and Isis were both able to follow them. Jere could tell that Isis was nearing her limit, and in truth, so was he. This hadn’t gone as well as planned, and he just couldn’t wait to have it all over.

  Chapter 18

  Results

  Jere was relieved when he was instructed to take Isis to a private room to wait for results. He went quickly, with Isis following closely behind. He took a seat, watching uncomfortably as she went to her knees beside him.

  He was quick to re-establish the mind connection. The fear and nerves were so much more intense than usual. Jere had to force himself to stay calm in the face of all the emotion. He wished badly that Wren was there; his calm presence would help to anchor both Jere and Isis. He resented the state for forcing him to do this all on his own.

  “Are you okay?” Jere asked immediately. He was supposed to be the one protecting her, but he was as helpless as she was in the context of this certification.

  “I’m sorry,” Isis replied, obviously struggling to hold herself together. “Jere, I’m so sorry! I fucked up, I know. I didn’t do it right, I screwed up, I screwed everything up, and I never should have tried this! I failed, didn’t I? They’re going to tell you that they’re going to fucking take me away, aren’t they? They’re going to fucking take me and put in some sort of training facility, or sell me, or—”

  “Stop!” Jere ordered, hoping to curb her terror. “I’m not letting anything happen to you. And they said that we didn’t fail because of that, anyway. Please, calm down. You didn’t do that bad. Just a little mistake. It’s okay. Everything else was perfect. That has to mean something.”

  “You should have just beaten me! That’s what they wanted to see.”

  “It’s done,” he said, idly. “They’ll tell us what they want us to do, and we’ll do it. You’re not going anywhere; I’ll throw the biggest fit this shithole state has ever seen if they so much as try. For now, we wait.”

  They were summoned into the room where they were greeted at first, facing the three people who were to decide their fate.

  The woman spoke first, smiling slightly. “Doctor Peters, you’ll be pleased to know that you and your slave have not failed certification.”

  Jere started to breathe again. Isis didn’t fail, and neither did he.

  “The majority of the certification went well, although there were clear indications of hesitation and reluctance on your slave’s part on numerous occasions,” the woman continued. “On a ten-point scale, the slave’s responses were typically rated as a three or four, with a few incidents rising to five. In general, we consider anything higher than three to be in a concern range. Her movements were judged as awkward, which usually indicates a lack of practice, but given the significant past injuries we noted, that did not impact your scores. Still, it did not make a very good impression. Verbal responses were stilted and sparse, but appropriate. Perhaps you are wise to disallow her from speaking most of the time.”

  Jere listened carefully, resisting his urge to argue back, to say that Isis had done well enough, resisting the desire to just get up and walk out. Jere knew that they were far from finished. This was a part of the certification process as well, and he could no more walk out of this than he could walk out of the certification itself. He envied Wren’s firesetting gift; a small wastebasket fire would be appreciated at the moment.

  “Of course, the major point of contention, one which our team debated for a while, was the outburst,” the certifier said, frowning as if the memory offended her. “The refusal to cooperate, verbal defiance, and especially the attempt to flee were problematic. Following the incident, we found it unusual that you would not immediately correct the behavior, but wait for instruction.”

  She paused, and Jere felt intensely scrutinized. “I would have, elsewhere,” he mumbled, unable to just sit there while she glared at him. “I was unsure what the protocol would be in a place like this. I didn’t want to mess it up.”

  “You didn’t grow up in a slave state,” the woman continued. “In fact, your record indicates that you’ve only been a citizen for two year
s. You have clearly learned a lot, but the reactions you showed are not typical. Someone from a slave state would have instantly corrected the girl with the whip in his hands; instead, you chose to wait for instruction and use a mind-bind.”

  Jere didn’t want to defend himself, because that would make it look like he had something to defend.

  “It seems that your excellent grasp of mind-bind capabilities and ability to think creatively are strong assets. Because of this, and because of the slave’s compliance despite the aversive nature of the correction, we as a committee feel that you have proven that you are capable of exerting adequate control over her. It is clear that she struggles with unfamiliar situations, but then, you do as well. You seem able to provide a consistent, calm environment and firm correction.”

  “Thank you.” Jere had used the mind-bind mostly because he didn’t trust himself not to look clumsy with a whip, nor was he willing to subject Isis to it again. It seemed that the choice had unexpected benefits.

  “The committee has decided to grant a conditional pass, based primarily on the slave’s history of violence and the small yet significant flight attempt,” the woman informed them. “From this date on, you will need to keep your slave within three feet of you at all times. Any attempts at violence, disobedience, or flight should be immediately contained. It’s a safety concern, you understand.”

  “Of course,” Jere answered. “I’ll make sure she stays close.”

  The woman smiled, a pitying look that one would give to someone who missed the punch line of a joke. “The slave must be restrained at all times while she is in public with a regulation grade collar or harness that is securely locked to a regulation grade leash that is no more than three feet in length.”

  Jere sat for a moment, processing the information. “Oh,” he said, startled. “I... I guess I can get those.”

  The man sitting to the side had been preparing paperwork, and handed a stack to Jere, along with a pen, to sign agreement to the terms. “It starts today. We can place her in a holding cell until you return with them.”