Ignoring them, the warriors immediately strode toward the scene. Several of them actually ran, which almost shocked Simone as much as the news that had begun to circulate that two of the women had killed themselves. After staring blankly at the women for several moments, Simone’s personal nemesis straightened abruptly and scanned the room until he pinned her with his gaze.
She wasn’t certain what that meant, but she melted behind the nearest group and peered around them to see what was happening. Her heart nearly stopped when he strode forward, pulling a wicked looking knife from a sheathe at his waist that she hadn’t even noticed before. She didn’t know what he was sawing at until he lifted the woman and she saw the sheet was still around her neck.
Several of the warriors pushed forward, trying to wrestle the woman from his grasp and then the entire group began to argue—about what, she didn’t have a clue—but anger was a universal emotion. It wasn’t difficult at all to understand that they were furious and arguing. The leader finally yielded the body to one of the men, but there was a similar situation transpiring almost directly beside them with another woman—also dead.
Simone had to wonder if they’d formed some sort of suicide pact—talked each other into escaping the only way they knew how. She didn’t know the women. She hadn’t even talked to them, but it seemed significant that they shared adjoining bunks.
The two dead women were born away after a few moments and then the warriors turned their wrath on the survivors. Either they didn’t actually want the women to understand what they were saying, however, or they were too agitated themselves to realize they were speaking their own tongue.
It seemed pretty clear, regardless, that they were being blamed. She didn’t know if the warriors were accusing them of having killed the women, or known about it and ignored it, but they were clearly furious with all of them. Abruptly, they stopped shouting and took action. The moment they surged toward the women, the women shrieked and ran—Simone with them, partly because she was also looking for an escape and partly because she didn’t have a choice. She was dragged along with the tide.
No one was the least bit relieved when the men attacked the beds instead of them.
Simone began to fear that they’d only started on the inanimate objects and would progress to them when they’d finished destroying the room.
It became obvious after a few moments, however, that they weren’t maddened with rage.
Well, they were, but they weren’t simply destroying. Ripping the mattresses from the beds, they stripped them and tossed the mattresses on the floor and then seized the platforms, picked them up, and pitched them toward the far wall. The leader lifted his communicator and spoke into it and the tangled pile of bunks by the wall vanished.
He scanned the women huddled against the far wall. “Get in bed!”
Everyone simply stared at him.
“NOW!” he bellowed.
They moved en masse. Everyone still wanted to huddle together, but they were anxious to avoid the possibility of a physical confrontation—which seemed very possible given the way the warriors were glaring at them.
There was no way to tell which bed was which, naturally, so everyone simply dropped down onto the nearest available. No one wanted to go near the mattresses closest to the warriors, however, and when those were all that were left the women who hadn’t managed to claim a bed scurried into bed with the other women. Simone was actually a little sorry she didn’t end up with a companion herself. It was cold without any sort of covering and it would’ve been comforting to have company. It wasn’t as if she could sleep anyway!
Drawing up into a tight knot inside her tent of a gown, she lay down facing the men, afraid to put her back to them. It appeared they’d expended their rage, however.
They moved back to the wall.
They didn’t leave.
Simone lay for what seemed like hours and finally dozed off. It seemed to her she’d barely dropped to sleep when a stir in the cell woke her. She sat up, blurry eyed but wary and looked around. Food, she discovered, was being brought out. She stared at the men and droids dully for a moment and finally lay back down again. She was too tired and too nauseated, she decided, to have any desire for food—particularly the food they’d been brought since they’d been taken. It was the next thing to tasteless.
She dozed off again. The food was gone when she awakened, but she discovered she didn’t care. She didn’t especially like the idea of using the facilities with the warriors standing guard, but she had to. She was more embarrassed when she came out, because she could feel them watching her.
Instead of returning to the mattress where she’d slept, she looked around for Liz.
She was lying on a mattress, but Simone could see she wasn’t asleep. After a brief internal debate, she approached the other woman. “Can I sit with you?”
Liz studied her a moment and finally sat up, making room.
“I feel like shit,” she muttered.
“Nothing a cigarette and cup of coffee wouldn’t cure,” Simone said flippantly.
Liz considered it. “Of all the things I’m going to miss ….”
Simone swallowed with an effort. “Don’t think about it,” she advised. “I’m trying not to.”
“So quit mentioning it!” Liz said irritably.
“Sorry.”
Liz shook her head. “You think they were thinking about that and that’s why they did it?” she asked after a few moments.
Simone considered it. “I’ve never actually understood what would make somebody do what they did. It’s just … not natural, you know? I think about the only real instincts we still have is self-preservation. And either they didn’t, or they were just … unbalanced.”
Liz shuddered. “It took determination to do it. I didn’t know them, but they didn’t seem that unbalanced. They seemed scared—like the rest of us.”
“I don’t even understand how they managed it, especially the woman that hanged herself. The choke collar alone should’ve prevented it and she had to have deliberately put all of her weight on her neck … and then just lay there. You’re right. They had powerful motivation to do something like that.”
Liz made a sound of the disgust. “The other woman rubbed her wrists on the bunk until she cut the blood vessels. She had to work hard to do that.”
Simone studied her hands. “It’s a shame they didn’t put that determination to better use. They might’ve helped somebody else.”
“How? We’re fucked.”
“I don’t know,” Simone said honestly. “I just think if they were willing to give up their lives they could’ve used it to better advantage instead of just wasting it. Maybe killed Akule and screamed ‘freedom’ or something like that.”
“I’d like to kill the bastard,” Liz muttered.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think that would actually do us any good. I’m not fond of him either, but he isn’t a lot better off than we are if what he said was true. He was born a worker and will die one—no incentive for self-improvement in their damned society!”
“Well, he doesn’t have to face one pregnancy and labor after another!” Liz snapped angrily. “Being pregnant is miserable enough!”
“So I’ve heard,” Simone said dully. “I was actually looking forward to it … before.”
“No, you weren’t! No woman in her right mind looks forward to nine months of misery with hours of agony at the end! You were looking forward to having a baby.”
Simone thought that over. “You’re right. I just figured it was worth it to be miserable for nine months and go through hell to have one. It really isn’t going to be worth it, though, is it? There’s no payoff.”
“That’s what they were thinking when they killed themselves,” Liz said emphatically. “They were thinking about how much they’d wanted a baby and everything they’d gone through to have one and that they were never going to. They were just facing going through the misery over and over.”
Simo
ne closed her eyes, rocking herself. She’d been trying so hard not to think about it. It angered her that Liz had rubbed it in her face when she’d worked to pretend it wasn’t going to happen. “Well, I’m not in favor of just giving up and accepting, damn it!
There has to be something we could do!”
“I’m all ears,” Liz said sardonically.
“They’ve got laws,” Simone said finally. “That means they have authority and they have court—or something like that. Maybe we could use their own laws to our advantage?”
“What are you, a lawyer?”
“A paralegal,” Simone said a little apologetically. “It’s sort of like being a nurse—you do all the leg work and the doctors get all the money and all the glory.”
“And all the enemies,” Liz pointed out. “Just about everybody that’s had any kind of run-in with a lawyer hates lawyers, but you never hear them ranting about paralegals.”
Simone stared at her a moment and chuckled. “I’d never thought about it that way. See! A silver lining!”
“Maybe, but you don’t know anything about their laws.”
“So? I could learn.”
“I have to infer from that that you weren’t listening when we were informed that we were not allowed to learn their language? Or high speak, as dick-wad referred to it.”
Simone frowned. “I’d forgotten, but maybe high speak is different from the rest of their language?”
“Maybe,” Liz said doubtfully, “but I think you’re wrong. And even if you aren’t, you’re talking about learning an entire language well enough to understand legal stuff. I
can’t understand legal speak and I was born into an English speaking family! I’ll be dead and buried, and you probably will be, too, long before you can figure it out. I don’t think I could survive very many pregnancies, especially multiple births. I’m thirty-two already.”
Simone gaped at her. “And the doctor was willing to do the procedure?” she demanded, somewhat indignantly. “I just turned twenty-nine and the doctor I was seeing acted like I had one foot in the grave already!”
“Money makes the world go-round. Don’t you think for a moment that you can’t compromise their ‘principles’ with the right amount of money,” Liz said derisively. “Not that that matters now.”
“Well, it’s worth a shot. At least it’s a possibility.”
“Not much of one and I think it’s a long shot.”
“Actually, I’m pretty good at picking up languages—that’s one of the reasons I decided to become a paralegal. I could understand the language.”
“Well, it is almost like a foreign language, but … I think it’s dangerous,” she said, lowering her voice. “I mean it, Simone. These people have no fucking sense of humor.”
“Maybe. There’s an old saying, though—know thine enemy. You can’t fight if you don’t know what you’re up against.”
“They might have something similar in their language,” Liz dryly. “I’ve got a feeling that’s exactly why it’s forbidden to us.”
One of the other women interrupted them. Crouching down in front of them, she glanced at the men standing guard over them. “We’re going to have a hunger strike,” she said quietly, adding when Liz and Simone stared at her blankly, “a peaceful protest.”
Liz and Simone looked at one another and shrugged when the woman moved away. “I don’t think they’ll actually give a shit—considering we’re lowly breeders—but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to discover the limits of the chains.”
“I’m not really hungry anyway,” Simone said. “I guess I can stand missing another meal or two.”
“You skipped breakfast, too?”
“I was more tired than hungry.”
“I guess that’s what gave them the idea. I still think it’s worse than useless. I doubt they’ll even notice, but it makes a statement if they do.”
They noticed. They didn’t let on that they had, but the hunger strike only actually lasted through a day and a half—or what passed for that on board the ship. They were brought food twice a day. Simone had skipped breakfast to sleep, but she discovered that most of the other women had also skipped breakfast. The warriors began to exchange questioning looks when the second meal arrived and none of the women got up. In fact, most of them made a pointed effort of ignoring it. They watched the servers bring out the food and then turned their backs on it.
Simone discovered that it was harder to sleep on an empty stomach than it had been without that misery added to all the rest, but she did finally dose off. She roused when she heard the servers entering the cell the following day but, remembering the strike, settled back down to sleep. She dozed much of the day, she supposed, because it didn’t seem much time at all had passed when she was roused again by the sound of the servers. She ignored that as she had the others until she began to hear a stir of alarm through the women. Wary, Simone peered through her lashes to see what was happening. The warriors, who’d stood guard over them since the suicides, had moved from the wall. They were wading through the sea of mattresses, examining the faces of the women and then grabbing first one and then another and dragging them to their feet.
It was the gasps and whimpers and cries that had awakened her.
She scanned the men uneasily, trying to understand what was happening. Her nemesis spotted her at almost the same instant that she saw him. His face hardened with purpose. He strode straight toward her. Simone felt her eyes grow wider and wider the closer he came. He was almost upon her when her brain finally kicked in and she sprang up from the mattress. She didn’t try to run—although some of the women did—or scream. She couldn’t command her facilities enough to do either.
She flinched all over, however, when he shot a hand out and grasped her upper arm, instinctively ducking and throwing a hand up to ward off a blow if he was of a mind to sling one in her direction. He didn’t seem angry until she did that.
That, clearly, pissed him off, however. His lips tightened into a thin line.
“Come.”
He didn’t wait to see if she would comply. He turned and hauled her behind him.
She had to move her feet or fall flat. She actually did fall—over the mattress next to hers. He whirled in anger when he felt the jerk on her arm but, to her relief, he seemed to realize immediately that it wasn’t an attempt to fight him. He released his grip on her, watching her through narrowed eyes until she’d managed to get up. Instead of grasping her arm again, he pushed her in front of him.
Women weren’t actually supposed to speak unless they’d been invited to—especially not to anyone of the warrior class. That warning flickered through her mind before she opened her mouth, but she wasn’t about to go meekly without even protesting.
“Where are we going? Where are you taking me?”
He sent her a look. “Did you listen to none of the instructions?” he asked coolly.
“No … uh … Yes.”
“You have decided they don’t pertain to you?”
Anger flickered to life. If she’d had any balls—or been stupid—she would’ve informed him that she thought exactly that! She was an American, damn it! She didn’t give a damn where they were, she was still an American! Instead of responding, however, she simply lifted her chin, folded her arms over her chest, and ignored him.
He settled a hand on her arm. It was bruised from his grip before and her fall.
She couldn’t help but wince, but she struggled to ignore that, too.
In silence, they left the cell and marched down a long, wide corridor. Despite her determination to maintain a posture as coldly impersonal as his, she couldn’t resist the temptation to study what she could of the ship.
There was no sense in being stupid, she thought, just because she was pissed off.
Not that she thought it was likely to do her any good to know anything about the ship, but one never knew when something might come in handy. She didn’t think she could afford to ignore anything that had the potent
ial of being useful.
She didn’t actually acquire any useful information, unfortunately, beyond the fact that the ship was enormous. The corridor they were following seemed to go on for a mile or more, but he turned off after maybe a quarter of a mile and brought her to halt in front of a door. She discovered when it opened that it was an elevator.
It shot upwards so fast that when it stopped her knees buckled. Fortunately, he had a grip on her and kept her from sprawling out.
Liz was right. They didn’t have a sense of humor! Anybody else would’ve at least cracked a smile. He looked like his face might crack if he tried it.
He also didn’t give her a moment to recover. As soon as the door opened, he hauled her out and down another corridor. They arrived eventually in what was clearly intended as personal quarters. It was spacious, she thought, considering it was on a ship.
Actually, she’d been in hotels that weren’t nearly as spacious, or as luxurious, but it did remind her of a hotel room—minus windows.
He released her when he’d hauled her inside and paced away from her. Uncertain of what he had in mind, Simone stood where he’d left her, watching him warily, unable even to summon a look of defiance. He assumed a military stance and studied her coldly.
“What are you about, woman?”
Simone blinked at him and decided to fall back on the old ‘I’m too stupid to be guilty’ routine. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The mask of cold aloofness disintegrated. Rage replaced it. “You are carrying my son! Are you trying to kill him as the others did the babes entrusted to their care?”
Simone felt the blood leave her face at the accusation. “No! I wouldn’t do that!” she gasped, horrified that he would even suggest that she would kill an infant—her baby!
Some of his anger seemed to abate. “You believe that you can harm yourself and not harm my son?”
Truthfully, she hadn’t even grasped that she was really and truly pregnant. She certainly hadn’t considered that it might be his, although she supposed she should’ve realized that he must have some reason to focus on her. She felt her face heat guiltily at the his accusation. “I don’t even know that I am pregnant,” she said finally.
Alien Penetration Page 7