Broken Vision

by J. A. Clarke

  She turned her head and the entire room undulated. Maybe it was just that her body in its present state couldn't handle even a small amount of alcohol. She should go home and go to bed.

  Her focus wavered again and settled on a disturbance in the room. Gloriana herself worked the crowd tonight. Spectacular in studded bronze body armor, which made it dangerous for anyone to come into contact with her, her enormous body forged a wide path. Fake scarlet hair tumbled in artful disarray over her shoulders and huge breasts, which were faithfully outlined by the tight body armor. Strands of beaded jewelry dripped from around her neck, and thick make-up glittered on her face, rendering her age indeterminate.

  Her intent wasn't. She was headed straight for their corner.

  Maegan's flight instinct kicked in. She had to figure out how to vanish without attracting Gloriana's notice. Brown-hair and Black-hair had become the focus of attention in her group. Her young engineers had begun by launching a gleeful, unmannerly interrogation of the warriors. The conversation had quickly turned more respectful and now an intense discussion on the complexities of a hologame Maegan had never heard of was in process. With luck, she might be able to slip away into the crowd.

  Setting her half-empty glass on the table, she tried to rise and couldn't. Her legs wouldn't obey her brain. She braced her arms on either side of the stool and pushed. Still nothing. A frisson of panic swirled through her. She must have made a sound because Black-hair turned to look at her.

  His gaze sharpened. He set his drink down.

  Before he could speak, Gloriana was upon them. "My favorite young things," she cooed. "So glad to see Janas Corporation hasn't abandoned me. You're all working too hard, and not coming to see me often enough." Her jewelry chimed and tinkled. The finger she shook was aimed at Maegan.

  Respectful greetings rippled from around the table as Gloriana inserted her body into a too-small space between Brown-hair and Black-hair. They tried to shift their stools, and froze as Gloriana reached around and pulled them to nestle against her enormous breasts and studded armor.

  "And who are these two gorgeous ones? Maegan, I hear you have been a very naughty girl."

  For a nan, there was dead silence, before predictably the group erupted with a cacophony of snickers, whistle trills and snide remarks. No one seemed too concerned about the predicament of the two Mariltar warriors who appeared to be in danger of imminent suffocation. For men taught to use their bodies as weapons, they weren't doing much to extricate themselves.

  "Quiet. Quiet. That was not a license to employ bad manners." Gloriana shook her massive body--hair, jewelry, warrior appendages and all. And when the chimes died away, she had the group's fascinated attention. "Better." She turned her gaze on Maegan. "Your hand."

  Starpits! There was no point in dissembling. Maegan gritted her teeth, unclenched her hand from the edge of the stool and presented it for Gloriana's inspection.

  "Ah. For once the gossip leakers are right." Gloriana must have tightened her grip because one of the men in her grasp groaned. Black-hair rolled his visible eye at Maegan.

  "So why does Governor Mariltar leave his newly bonded life partner on her own? Bodyguards are a poor substitute for a husband. But perhaps he needs some direction."

  She must have squeezed again. Black-hair winced.

  "You two!" She shook herself again and rolled her gaze down at the two heads clutched to her breasts. "Bring him to see me on his next visit to Pallas Four."

  She turned her attention back to Maegan, ignoring the quiet state of shock that held the rest of the group immobile. "Heard you were attacked by a batriel recently. Hope you're not drinking. Alcohol and batriel venom produce unpleasant side effects."

  She glanced down. "Hunh. Maybe I'll keep you two. You don't squirm." A rumble of mirth shuddered from her. She squeezed, and abruptly released them.

  "Be good," she commanded of the group in general. "I'll hear about it if you're not." And off she waddled, causing bodies to scramble frantically before her.

  "I think I have permanent dents in my face. What was that?" Brown-hair broke the shocked silence. He fingered his cheek. Black-hair watched Maegan, a frown on his face.

  "An honest woman with no secrets." Makiee, the project's lead engineer turned an accusing face to Maegan. "Is it true?"

  "Course it is," said Nimon. "Haven't you heard about the Mariltar brand? She's been branded." Nimon pointed to Maegan's hand.

  She wanted to hide it behind her back but forced herself to keep it in her lap. The sapphire band sparkled brightly for all to see. It had been too much to hope that this was knowledge she could keep to herself until she'd figured out a foolproof plan to make the partnership go away.

  From the group's reaction, Coryon hadn't said a word, although Alerik said he'd told her. If Coryon really did know, she hadn't fed the gossip machine. As an assistant, she was earning her merits.

  "Did a batriel really attack you?" Shal-el, the youngest of the group sat forward eagerly. "Did it drip ghastly green goo from its mouth? Did it stink? Do you have a scar?"

  "Wait your turn." Makiee's silver eyes, in the low lumens, glowed eerily and betrayed his Bogasill heritage. He shoved his colleague. "I want to know why she went and bonded with Governor Mariltar and what this means for Janas Corporation."

  "Why would it have any affect on Janas... Oh!"

  Seven sets of eyes containing various degrees of speculation, concern and interest, and two containing some bemusement, studied Maegan.

  She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She found she couldn't close her mouth again. If there was ever a ninth dimension, this was it. Her brain functioned perfectly normally, but nothing it told the rest of her body to do worked. She couldn't even budge a finger and now she looked like an idiot with her mouth hanging open.

  "What's wrong with her?" Nimon demanded.

  "What's she been drinking?" Black-hair said.

  He picked up Maegan's hand. She saw him do it, but she couldn't feel it.

  "Grogon limale, same as everyone else."

  "Not much alcohol in that." Black-hair was peering into her eyes. He frowned. "Can't take much."

  "Ah..." Behind him Shal-el exchanged a guilty look with Bortock.

  The two Merlons, who could almost have been twins, were brilliant together with code creation but, barely out of adolescence, they were also mischievous troublemakers. Maegan had had them in her office more than once to deliver disciplinary edicts, mostly consisting of community service which, to give them credit, they performed with as much enthusiasm as they had the transgression. "We reprogrammed the bar caddy when we came in."

  "We added a very small shot of Merlon mitte to the recipe," said Bortock. "Very small." He pinched his fingers together.

  That was another thing about the two. When caught, they always were quick to confess.

  "Merlon mitte," said Black-hair, who was doing something with her wrist, "is the most potent drink in the galaxy. Even in minute quantities. We've got to get her to medical attention now."

  "You fools! No wonder my head is spinning. And look at poor Maegan."

  Nimon, who came from a long line of Soron warrior priestesses, took a swing at Shal-el. If she'd connected directly, she could have done some serious damage, but Shal-el saw it coming and ducked. The blow caught Black-hair in the side. He stumbled and fell into Bortock.

  Maegan, her mouth hanging open, her arm dangling in the air where Black-hair had let go of it, could do nothing but watch helplessly as Morgon's galactic-peace-through-a-united-goal experiment dissolved into a mini galactic club brawl. The audience that quickly gathered around them was only interested in placing bets and Gloriana was nowhere to be seen.

  Brown-hair finally extricated Black-hair from underneath Nimon and they both grabbed Maegan. As they bore her from the club, she caught sight of Gloriana forging her way toward the disturbance. The look on her face comforted Maegan. At least she wasn't going to have to worry about discipline. Gloriana would take care
of it.

  * * * *

  She awoke in another strange room with no memory of what had transpired after they'd left the club. She wriggled a toe, then a finger, an arm and a leg. Everything seemed to be working. She felt good, much better than she had in a while.

  The faint sweet tang of tiug leaf wisped across her nostrils. It was barely enough warning.

  "Maegan," said Alerik, in a soft rumble that raised tiny hairs all over her body, "you really do need to stop getting into these...situations."

  He strolled into her line of vision, a tall man and--oh, blazing starpits--wearing nothing but loose pants draped low across his hips and a half smile on his lips. Her sense of well-being vanished as her sweat glands went crazy and tension tightened every cell in her body.

  She forced her mouth open. "Before you arrived, my life was perfectly normal."

  He laughed and stopped beside her, too close. "Ah. You imply that I somehow had something to do with the attack and the, ah, club scuffle."

  She closed her eyes. All that bare, hard flesh was too much to take. "Of course not." She couldn't help herself and cracked open one eye again. Maybe he wouldn't notice. "Well, actually, the club fight was your fault." At least he'd been one of the sparks.

  "Yes?" He sat down facing her on the raised sleeping platform. His hip brushed against hers with only two thin layers of cloth between them, which made her realize that someone had removed all her clothes again. She didn't even want to think about that.

  The scent of tiug was stronger. His body heat licked her hip and reached out tentacles to places deep in her body. She squeezed both eyes shut again.

  "I had this fascinating vid conversation with the proprietress of the club, Mistress Gloriana."

  He picked up her hand and cradled it between his. The simmering heat in her body erupted into a conflagration.

  "Yes, Mistress Gloriana found it quite interesting that the staff of Janas Corporation was unaware of their leader's change in marital status, and she was also quite indignant that the Counselor of Pallas Four hadn't seen fit to announce her marriage partnership to the populace of Pallas Four. Protocol and ceremony are very important to Mistress Gloriana, as they should be." He chuckled and squeezed her hand. "She didn't place all the blame on you, you'll be happy to know. I received a thorough scolding on that one as well. But she has taken it upon herself to disseminate the news in an appropriate way."

  Wonderful. Just what she didn't want. But the image of the club proprietress scolding Alerik Mariltar was intriguing. She chose to focus on that in a desperate attempt to ignore his thumb, which was stroking the top of her hand. It didn't work.

  His thumb stroked. Her hand was limp with pleasure. The rest of her body, traitor that it was, strained with yearning for the same treatment. Alerik was silent.

  The silence stretched until she couldn't bear it anymore and cracked open an eye again. His head was bent a little, his expression thoughtful, his gaze focused on their joined hands.

  He was quite beautiful, she realized, with a little jolt. His dark hair, burnished with a tinge of deep red, was trimmed closely to shape of his skull. His facial features were strong but evenly proportioned. He had the classical Mariltar profile--straight nose, square chin, full lips. In this contemplative mood he'd fallen into, his chin dimples were nowhere in evidence.

  She was seized by an urge to reach out and run her hand over the smooth, rounded contours of his arms and chest. He had minimal visible body hair. Silk wisps spread across his chest and framed the small hard nubs of his nipples. The hair darkened and thickened where it grew in a narrow line down beneath the waist of his pants.

  Her gaze drifted back up over the flat, hard planes of his stomach and the muscles of his chest. It was like he was built with body armor. There was no softness to him at all. Her hand not held captive between his itched again to test him, to see if he was as hard, yet silk-smooth as he appeared.

  She looked up. Hated heat flooded her face. He was watching her study him. His mouth twitched. His dimples appeared.

  "If you keep looking at me like that, Green Eyes, I'll have to do something about it."

  She snatched her hand away. "Don't delude yourself. Where am I?"

  "Governor's habitat on Pallas Five. We all decided you needed supervision."

  "All? Who's all? Alerik Mariltar dictating his desires and expecting everyone else to go along?"

  This close to him, she saw with fascination a shadow of some emotion deepen the sapphire of his eyes and temple mark, but his chin dimples remained firmly in place.

  "Not at all. It was the consensus of Gloriana, the medtech here on Pallas Five, Corenna, Drakal and myself."

  "Huh. Well, with the exception possibly of Gloriana, I can't imagine why anyone's opinion should possibly matter to me. I'd like to go home, please."

  Alerik shook his head. "You are such a rebel. But this time you don't get a choice. Medtech Sumnuer wants you on bed rest for a couple of days."

  "I feel perfectly fine." She couldn't stay here for two cycles. She couldn't. She wasn't sure how long she'd been here already and she had an imminent mission to undertake, the details of which might already be lodged in her personal comm unit.

  "That was the problem the last time." Alerik rose to his feet, yawned and stretched, revealing tuffs of silky hair in his armpits. His pants slipped a little lower on his hips. He tugged at them casually with one hand, but they settled back to the same position when he let go.

  "You felt fine, didn't follow orders, drank alcohol and ended up with temporary paralysis. Your body's very fragile right now. You need rest."

  He strolled around the end of the sleeping platform. The lumens in the room dimmed as he went. "I need rest. Too little sleep since I arrived."

  Oh, that implication wasn't subtle at all. She was out of here as soon as he left and she could find her clothes. He reached the end of the platform but, instead of heading for the exit to the room, he turned and moved up the other side of the platform. The lumens extinguished completely as he lifted the cover and climbed onto the bed.

  As she lay stiff with horror on the large platform that could easily accommodate four bodies his size, but seemed stiflingly small nonetheless, he murmured, "Let me save you some trouble. This room is secured. If you try to leave, an alarm will sound."

  * * * *

  Two more bodies had been found on Pallas Seven, battered and bruised, and dumped in an incinerator vat. They would have been vaporized without a trace, along with the rest of the garbage and debris, if the Pallas Seven counselor hadn't ordered a surprise facility inspection. Cause of death was not yet officially determined, but obvious nonetheless. No one had claimed the bodies.

  And, coincidentally, the counselor had narrowly avoided being the target of a poison dart later that morning.

  Alerik shoved his chair back from his console just as a chime sounded. "Enter."

  Sharm, looking polished and smooth and playboy handsome, and not at all like the deadly weapon he really was, strolled through the door of his office.

  "Good day, Governor." He swaggered a bit as he crossed the ion floor. "How's the miniature Alerik project coming?"

  Alerik's thoughts immediately clamped onto how he had left Maegan that morning, fast asleep in his bed. She was an untidy, restless sleeper. She'd been belly down, arms and legs flung out in every direction, the thin cover stretched across her sweet little ass and one leg, leaving her back bare. Blood surged to his groin.

  "It's been initiated." Having her naked in his bed was certainly a start.

  He eyed Sharm, who was prowling along the edge of his console. He was reporting in late this morning, an almost unheard of event for him.

  "A good night?"

  Sharm flashed a lecherous grin. "An adventurous one with a bonus ending. The ladies of The Alabaster Nightshade do have some extraordinary talents."

  Alerik scowled. "Thought this was supposed to a fact-finding mission?"

  "It was. That was the ad
venturous part. The bonus part was--"

  "Spare me the details of your private activities. Anything useful?"

  Sharm shook his head. "A dead end. If there's something there, the employees are either outstanding liars or not in the game, but I don't think there is. The Alabaster Nightshade appears perfectly legitimate. Only one small set back. Dono Kalister was not overseeing his domain last night. Seemed unusual. His employees were surprised he wasn't there."

  "Go back until he does show up. The source that pointed the finger seems trustworthy. Two unidentified bodies were discovered in an incinerator vat this morning and there was another attempt on the counselor's life."

  "Blood of Cor!" Sharm stopped prowling and stuck his hands in the pockets of his breeches. "And we thought this was going to be one of those quick clean-ups, then we'd be sitting around growing soft, fat bellies for the remainder of your term. The reek of lawlessness is oozing ever deeper into Grogon."

  "How eloquent," Alerik said dryly. He rose to his feet. "But facts remain that it still seems confined to Pallas Seven. Whatever Maegan is up to, it is something entirely unrelated."

  He hoped. She couldn't possibly be caught up in what was clearly a flesh trade supply to human death matches. But he was almost certain she had piloted an unauthorized flight and she was involved in something. He had to figure out what and quickly.

  "I'm going to take her back to Pallas Four and work from there for a while. Continue with your investigation and keep me briefed."

  "Yes, sir." Sharm snapped to attention, before relaxing with a grin. In private, they had long since dispensed with formalities. "Will you need Corenna and Drakal?"

  Alerik hesitated. Sharm needed every man he could get on the Pallas Seven problem, but his instincts were clamoring to keep Corenna and Drakal assigned to Maegan. It was annoying. He should be able to manage his own life partner, but at this stage of their very uncertain relationship, he couldn't afford to take chances when there were so many unknowns. Short of shackling her to him, he couldn't keep track of her all the time.