Red Planet: The Slave Queen (Tamarians Book 1)

by Jessica Snow

  “'Look at her, Tauren,' Mogar said, indicating her nakedness. She was about my age, just entering puberty, but you couldn't tell except that there was a faint dusting of hair around her mound. 'Do you find her sexy?'”

  “What did you say?” Audra asks, and I remember her for the first time. Jensen's sister, and someone I've peripherally known for years, at least as long as Neyilla's been after me.

  “I was disgusted. Not because she was human, but because she was nearly dead. I told Mogar as much, and he nodded. 'Such is the fate of too many humans. I wonder if we are doing the same to ourselves?' Mogar told me before walking off. I later found out that he purchased the girl from the slavers and brought her into his own home. The last time I saw her, she was healthy, although she couldn't talk when I spoke to her.”

  Jensen nods, his voice affectionate. “That's Guilia. She's mute, one of the things the slavers did to her was to sever the nerves to her vocal cords when she talked back too much. Mogar's tried to have them repaired, but so far, his efforts have been useless.”

  I nod, sorrowful. “I noticed later on as I continued to study under him. She is a lovely human. That day opened my eyes in a lot of ways.”

  “And we hope to open more eyes with what happened at the Arena,” Jensen says, his voice growing hard again. “In ten years of combat in the Arena, I've left thirty men dead, their blood staining the sands and staining my soul. But your family, your father, bear an even deeper stain. At least when I fought, I did so to protect the other slaves in Mogar's house, and I killed only to protect myself. I killed quickly and humanely.”

  Jensen takes a deep breath, calming himself before continuing. “So Mogar was your tutor. I'd never had the opportunity to be in the house at the same time that you were there for a lesson, although other people'd told me. I had to confirm it for myself, though.”

  “He was my tutor. And he is your owner,” I remark, raising an eyebrow when Jensen shakes his head in negation. “Yet you represented him in the arena.”

  “I am a free man, Tauren,” Jensen replies evenly. “Mogar's help in the Resistance has been -- significant. Including the fact that he's let me maintain a cover as just another dumb gladiator. It is by his advice that we've brought you here.”

  “To a cave. From the temperature, I'd say we're in the Northern Territories, maybe the Cartur Mountains?”

  Jensen leans his head back and laughs, before looking me in the eye. “You have been tutored my Mogar, and your reputation doesn't do you credit, most people wouldn't be that observant. I've come to understand one thing about him, he's smarter than anyone gives him credit for. He's a gamesman, and there's a reason that you're here, Tauren. I'll trust Mogar's thinking, he's never intentionally tried to harm me before, and I've known him for twenty-three years. In the meantime though, until I can start to figure out exactly what Mogar's schemes are, you'll stay right where you are. Of course, I'll also deliver the Resistance's demands to your father.”

  “Which are?” I ask, and Jensen smirks.

  “Oh, nothing too much. Just the release of every human slave in the capital and the capital territory. I mean, after all, how much can a bunch of humans mean when compared to the Blood of Tamaria?”

  I blanch, knowing what Jensen's asking. “There's over a million human slaves in the capital.”

  “Most of them residing in noble houses,” Jensen adds. “I'd hate to see Queen Tauria have to wipe her own ass without a slave there to do it for her, the smell after a few days would be horrendous. As for you... well, you look comfortable enough for now. You behave, and I'll make sure you're treated decently. It's why I asked Audra to watch over you, I trust my own blood. You misbehave..... and you and I might have some further words. For now though, I need to get my sister some fresh clothes. If you'll excuse us. Audra?”

  Audra, who still looks shell-shocked by everything that's been said in the past few minutes, nods and takes Jensen's outstretched hand. He smiles warmly at her, helping her to her feet, and opens the door. “I know this will take a while to understand... but some decent fitting boots and pants will go a long way towards at least making you comfortable.”

  The door shuts, and I'm left alone, the silence deafening. The rock that this cavern's made of is a natural sound buffer, I can barely hear myself shuffle around on my mattress. I test how much slack I've got, and while I can stand up with enough leeway to make my way over to a small bucket that looks like a toilet at the foot of my mattress, as well as enough slack if I want to turn over and lay on my stomach I can do so, but that's about it.

  Tricked. I've been tricked, and the more that I think about the fact that Jensen is owned -- no, associated with Mogar, the angrier I become. That rocket, the light that came from it, it has Mogar's fingerprints all over it. His scientific expertise is broad, but I do know the man is an expert in energy manipulation, I also know that he knows about aerodynamics, he's the one who taught me how to fly. A simple guided rocket would be nothing to Mogar, there are rockets that people buy for fun or old military models that he could have modified easily. And for him to be a member, a collaborator with the Resistance is even more painful. He's always been kinder to humans than any other noble I've known. I think it's for that reason alone that Father does not favor him over Neyton.

  But something Jensen said resonated with me. A gamesman. Mogar's more than just a gamesman, but it's a good start to describing his intelligence. He's always steered my education to be more than just what Father wanted, whether it be in learning more about the day to day operations of Tamaria, to some of the esoteric knowledge that I doubt a dozen people on the planet know for sure. I even know why he has a soft spot for humans, and why he's cultivated my own. Mogar's a reformer, that's for sure.

  I, on the other hand, have always sat the fence on some of Mogar's reform ideas. Such as freedom and full rights for humans, or at least stopping the slave trade. It isn't that I don't understand his ideas, but in prying even further into the layers of thought and knowledge that Mogar's made available to me, I'm just not sure that it could work. Not after thousands of years of slavery, of the hard feelings built up on both sides of the equation. How can you integrate a society that was built on slavery? I know that my lack of position has frustrated Mogar, and perhaps he's taken this opportunity to give me another object lesson. My first one turned me against the maltreatment of humans, and even against slavery in general. He's seen that I keep only a minimum of slaves, most of them owned by the crown and not by me personally. I treat the ones that do serve me well and with respect, far better than Neyilla treated the woman Audra. I never told Mother, but the way she treats humans is just one of the reasons I rebuffed Neyilla so strongly.

  But Neyilla isn't my concern right now. Mogar, Jensen, and it seems maybe Audra are. My former tutor's playing a game, and I have to figure out what he wants from this game. Am I pawn? Am I one of the players? Am I here to get another lesson from my teacher?

  Either way, I'm still cabled to this damn rock wall, so I guess for now, I need to just think.

  Chapter Five

  Audra

  The scissors are hardly meant for this purpose, they're bandage scissors from a medical kit, but it was either this, a laser scalpel, or a kitchen knife for cutting my hair. Apparently the Resistance isn't big on hair fashion. Jensen stands back, watching as my hair falls onto the windswept ground outside the cave. “You want any help?”

  “No,” I reply, taking another handful of my hair and cutting. I know I'm hacking it to pieces, there's no way that I can be getting anything approaching an even line when I let it fall, but in some ways that makes it even better. Fuck the elaborate hairstyles that take hours to pin, shape, gel and arrange. Fuck trying to be fashionable or whatever it was that Neyilla wanted of me. This is my hair, and I'm going to treat it the way I want. “I've never had a haircut before, I'd like to do it myself.”

  “Okay,” Jensen says casually, leaning against the tree he's using to stay out of the wind. “How'r
e the boots and clothes?”

  I finish cutting the clump in my hand and let my aching shoulders rest for a minute, looking down. I'm wearing fatigue pants that are nearly identical to Jensen's, although I'm wearing just a simple black thermal top instead of his military-like uniform, and good, sturdy boots that, when combined with the thermal socks I'm wearing leaves my toes nice and warm. “Nice. I never thought I'd be wearing boots like the Tamarian Guard though.”

  “They're not Guard boots, actually,” Jensen says with a chuckle. “Try the Lancers.”

  “The Lancers?” I ask, surprised. “But.... how in the hell did you get a hold of Lancer equipment? Let's start with that powerlance that you're carrying.”

  “Mogar's got connections,” Jensen says simply. “A faked shipment here, a lost supply crate there, an overly hasty replacement of 'obsolete' equipment, and voilà, the Resistance is wearing stuff that would make your average Tamarian Guardsman jealous. The fact is Audra, the King has no fucking clue how badly his own nobles are fucking him over, and Mogar's the least of his concerns. At least Mogar I think wants to make Tamaria a better planet on the whole. Others like Neyton just focus on themselves.”

  He takes a powerlance off his thigh and holds it out to me. “Here. It's yours if you want it.”

  I shake my head and take another hunk of hair in my left hand. “For now, I'll cut my hair. Maybe afterward I’ll take it, if that offer still stands. Jensen, I'm not saying I doubt your story, but I don't remember a brother. The fact is, I don't remember anything prior to coming to Neyilla's house.”

  “I'm not surprised,” Jensen says, relaxed. “As Mogar raised and taught me, I learned a lot about just how slaves are conditioned. Mogar spent a lot of time trying to counter the effects of Neyton's hypnotics. It seems that until Neyton created the drugs, slavery wasn't quite as widespread as it is now. It took a lot of effort to condition a slave, and average Tamarians couldn't afford to deal with a human who might just run away as soon as they get a chance. They also couldn't afford to spend the money on a human slave once the slavers had finished training them. It's only been in the past forty or fifty years that it's taken off so widely among the nobles and started to trickle down to the other classes. It seems human lives are cheaper than ever now.”

  “So what happened with you? I know it's not the drugs, I'm immune,” I say, and Jensen looks up at me. “What? You said the same.”

  “I'm only partially immune,” Jensen admits. “The hypnotics have no effect but the libido enhancers.... yeah, they work. You're the first person I've ever met that's totally immune.”

  I look at Jensen, confused. “I thought you said Mogar didn't drug you.”

  “He didn't drug us against our will,” Jensen corrects me, then tilts his head. “You look different with short hair. Cute. Anyway, Mogar's been trying to research how to counter both the hypnotic and the libido drugs since they have similar chemical pathways. Anyway, to do that, he had to see how certain humans are partially resistant to the drugs, he'd never met anyone totally resistant either. We knew I was hypnotic resistant, but we didn't try the libido enhancer until I was older. I was eighteen when I volunteered to try it. At the time, me and another girl in his household were actually hostile toward each other, so we volunteered to take it at the same time. We figured if we ended up snogging, it probably meant it worked.”

  “And you -- snogged?” I ask, trying not to laugh at Jensen's use of euphemism.

  “Did we ever,” Jensen admits, blushing. “Actually, we found that we were quite sexually compatible, and afterward we sort of made an arrangement. That lasted a few years before she fell in love with another man, and we went our separate ways.”

  “You don't sound upset about that,” I note, making the final cut on my hair. “There. How do I look?”

  “Good,” Jensen says, then chuckles. “No, I don't feel bad about her getting married. She met a good man, and Mogar was more than happy to free her, relocating them to an outer estate of his. They live and work there now and according to the law, are still his slaves, but Mogar's done that quite a bit, they have their emancipation papers that are technically binding if the government would ever listen to them. I have mine, too.”

  “So, is there a Mrs. Jensen?” I ask, and Jensen shakes his head. “Really? I figured they'd be lining up around the block for the famous Jensen. I even... heaven and stars, this sounds bad now, but I remember admiring you a bit a few years ago after the Games.”

  Jensen chuckles, then smiles. “Don't be ashamed. Mogar told me about you, once he confirmed who you were, there are a few Audras in the capital even if it's not a popular name. In all the years, I only got to see you from a distance four times. Three of those were at the Games. You grew up beautiful, little sister.”

  I shake my head, letting my now shoulder length hair bounce from side to side. It's liberating, even more than the clothes and the sleep. “I feel better. Might need a trim though, this stuff keeps falling in my eyes. But thank you, Jensen. Uh, you do realize that it's going to take me a while to kind of get to know you, and that I might not ever really feel like you're my brother?”

  “That's something I've come to accept, if not like,” Jensen confirms. “Here, pass me the scissors, I'll cut what some of the women call bangs on you. You just trim the hair right above the eyebrow level in the facial area. Let's see... here... we... go!”

  It takes him six snips, but there's an immediate improvement, and he steps back, handing me the scissors. “Now you can see.”

  “Now I can see. Come on, let's head back, I'm still not used to this cold, and you can tell me more about the way things run in the Resistance.”

  “Welcome back,” Tauren says when I re-enter his cell. He's standing up, holding some sort of pose that looks like it comes from some of the martial arts that I've been taught. “I like the haircut. You need to even out the back though.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” I ask, my hand going to my new powerlance. It's one of the officer models too, multifunction with DNA coding, in anyone else's hands, it's nothing but a twenty-centimeter long tube. It's a sign of faith from Jensen that I've been given such a powerful weapon, honestly.

  “It's called the praying warrior,” Tauren says, holding the pose for a moment before relaxing. “Since I'm sort of confined, I figured that I might as well pass the time with a little bit of static exercise.”

  His tone pisses me off, and I step forward, kicking hard with my now booted foot. Tauren doesn't go to move or block as the toe of my boot catches him in the thigh, buckling his front leg, but just accepts it, rolling to the floor. “You arrogant bastard!” I yell, kicking him again, this time in the ass. “Acting like this is a fucking vacation retreat!”

  “I... never... said that,” Tauren grunts, rolling in pain on the ground as I continue to kick him. Most of the kicks land on his thighs, his arms, and his back, until he's hissing in pain with every blow. “Just... please stop.”

  His use of the word please stops me. I've never heard a noble use it towards me before. My foot freezes mid-kick and I realize that I'm just as guilty of hatred as the men who Rebbie told me about this morning, and I retreat to the corner, sitting down. “My brother has asked me to be your guard and escort. You're not a very popular person around here, Tauren.”

  “I didn't think I would be,” Tauren grunts painfully, rolling to a sitting position. “What do you mean escort?”

  “I mean that Jensen has asked me to take you out to walk some for a while each day,” I fume. I stare at Tauren, so handsome with his iridescent eyes and his fine features, anger filling me. “Why? Why do you hate us so?”

  “I don't,” Tauren rasps, holding his arm over his ribs. “I'm not too happy about it, and getting a beat down from you isn't on my list of things I've enjoyed this week, but I don't hate you, Audra.”

  “Then why let Neyilla treat us this way? Huh?”

  Tauren looks at me with those eyes of his, his face filled with sadness. “The bon
ds that I am in are nearly as inescapable as this di-car cable. Just more invisible.”

  “Liar!” I spit, pulling the new, officer's model powerlance I just received twenty minutes ago. Jensen gave me a lesson on it, it's set to fire charged plasma right now that would be very painful, but not lethal. “What do you know of bondage? Huh?”

  “I know that your former owner is a vain, self-centered, corrupt bitch whose only concern is herself and her ability to try and gain power,” Tauren says in that same deep, quiet voice. “I know that she and her father are monsters, who treated sentient beings with less concern than I'd treat a rented hoverbike on vacation. I know that she has my mother's ear, and through that has constantly tried to worm her way into my bed, simply because she wants to fill that crystal socket in her forehead. I know that if I speak up, I lose the favor of my father, and while my mother is too old to reproduce again, that is no assurance that I will gain the throne. It has happened before, a son skipped over to have the crown passed on to a cousin, such as Neyilla herself. Or my father could find himself a willing wench to bear him another son. I'm not too sure he has love for my mother any longer. He wouldn't care if he hurt her feelings of not.”

  I shake my head, knowing that much of what Tauren's just said is true, but I don't want to accept it. “Whatever. You've never had to go to bed in fear for your life or your body, Tauren. Maybe that's Mogar's plan, or maybe my brother's. To show you what it means to be afraid, to show you how we've had to live every day of our lives.”

  Tauren nods, pursing his lips. “Perhaps.”

  The hours pass, until Rebbie comes by, carrying two containers. “Lunch time, Audra. Which do you want, odd or even?”

  “Huh?” I ask, confused, but Tauren chuckles. “Shut the fuck up, you.”