by M. D. Cooper
* * * * *
Jessica had taken her time examining the sprawling Charlemis estate while the security team she had traveled with completed their various sweeps, scans, and checks—all while being shadowed by House Charlemis’ own guards.
Because the men of both worlds considered women to be of little concern when it came to evaluating threats, she was able to slip away unnoticed. Or, if she had been noticed, no one cared.
While the guards were concerned with where the elites of House Laurentia would be dining, dancing, and sleeping, Jessica was far more interested in the secondary landing pad used for shipments, the back roads into the estate, and the side passages the servants used as they dashed to and fro, preparing for when the Dance would descend on Gallas in four days’ time.
She was walking the perimeter of the secondary landing pad—which was tucked behind a forested hill and out of view of the estate—when a voice called out to her.
“Hello there? My Lady? Can I help you with anything?”
Jessica turned to see a young woman standing at the entrance to one of the buildings alongside the pad. She wore the muted silver livery of House Charlemis, though hers was smeared with black and yellow grease. For some reason Jessica found the stains on the woman’s skin-tight uniform rather appealing, and approached the woman with a smile on her lips as she extended her hand.
“Hi, I’m Jessica, just taking a look around.”
“Uh, Terry,” the woman said as she peeled the glove off her right hand and extended her digits sheepishly. “Sorry. Don’t have a clean glove.”
Jessica took Terry’s bare hand anyway and gave it a firm shake, but didn’t let go. She turned it over and nodded. “You have a good hand, a worker’s hand. You don’t wear your gloves much of the time, do you?”
Terry shook her head, her eyes lowered. “No, my lady, it’s too hard to work on starships and the other vehicles in my care while wearing gloves. I like to feel the components, touch what I’m working on. Plus, I drop stuff all the time if I wear them.”
Jessica gave Terry a conspiratorial grin. “I almost never wear gloves. Today is an exception.”
Terry met Jessica’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m not from Gallas. I’m just doing a security sweep and it’s nice to blend in.”
“Where are you from? Acadia?” Terry asked.
“Nope,” Jessica replied. “I’m not from Serenity. I’m here as an independent observer for the OFA. Make sure everything is on the up and up. We don’t have an official presence in Serenity—outside of the embassy on the Perseus, of course—but we like to make sure our citizens are safe and well cared for.”
“I guess that makes sense, I’ve not seen anyone on Gallas with glowing skin before, though I can think of a dozen ways to achieve it,” Terry said hesitantly. “However, I don’t really think of myself as an Orion citizen.”
“My dear Terry,” Jessica said as she swept an arm back. “This is all Orion. And Freedom is the OFA’s middle name.”
Terry laughed and shook her head. “Not here it isn’t.”
“I had noticed,” Jessica said. “You have a bit of a feudal setup in Serenity. Not a lot I can do about that, but I can at least keep an eye out for you. Perhaps one of these days the High Table will slip up enough that Praetor Kirkland will be forced to bring them into the ninetieth century, or maybe at least the eightieth.”
“My Lady Jessica! You must be careful. To speak thusly is sedition. It is not tolerated.” Terry looked about as though she expected some House Charlemis guard to leap out from behind the cargo stacked along the edge of the pad.
Jessica clasped Terry on the shoulder—a gesture that made the poor young woman jump with surprise. “Fear not. I have technology which prohibits my conversations from being overheard. Speaking with me is the pinnacle of safety.”
“Well, that’s good,” Terry said. “In this place, everything has ears.”
“Just a minute ago you asked if I was from Acadia, though I’m not dressed as they. Why is that?” Jessica asked.
“Well, you’re speaking a bit like they do,” Terry began, and Jessica chuckled. Terry was right—it was a hard habit to break. “And a shuttle full of men and women from Acadia came in this morning.”
“Just one woman,” Jessica corrected.
“What? No, there were four women. Hard to miss in those tiny dresses they all wear. They stand out a bit from the men.”
“Wait, they landed here? Not at the other pad?” Jessica asked.
“Yeah, that’s why I was surprised. I knew another shuttle was touching down over there, and then a different group of Acadians showed up here. Caused a bit of a mixup for ATC, they had to reroute the other shuttle to the regular pad.”
Jessica pondered that. There had been no mention of a change of course for her shuttle.
“They’re both parked back there, now,” Terry said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder, and realized she was ungloved. “I’ll take you over,” she said as she hastily pulled her glove back on.
Jessica wondered where ‘back there’ was, but Terry led her around the back of the building, and through a grove of trees. In their midst was a wide hole—over two hundred meters in diameter. Inside, racked neatly around the perimeter were a wide assortment of shuttles and pinnaces.
“You can see them there,” Terry said, pointing down four levels. “One has the Laurentia crest on it, but the other doesn’t have any markings. I put them together because I figured it would be handy.”
“Would you mind if I go take a look?” Jessica asked.
Terry looked over at Jessica, an expression of worry crossing her face. “I’m responsible for all those ships, you know. I only have your word that you represent the OFA. How do I know you’re not up to no good?”
Jessica sighed. “I suppose you don’t, but don’t fret, that was just a test to make sure you’re keeping an eye out for any suspicious behavior. Good job.”
Terry let out a long sigh. “Thank the stars, you had me worried that you were going to press the issue.”
Jessica clasped Terry on the shoulder once more, causing a startled jump.
“Nope, you did good work.”
* * * * *
Jessica spent the rest of the day trying to find the group of Acadians from the second shuttle, but there was no sign of them. Whenever she inquired, everyone directed her to the Martimus and the security team she had flown in with.
It was as though the second group had simply disappeared. Had Terry not been such an honest woman—confirmed by Jessica’s ability to visually scan vitals—and if not for Terry’s testimony and the suspiciously unmarked shuttle, she would not have believed a second group of Acadians had arrived at all.
She took her evening meal with Martimus and the guards from her shuttle, in the guest house reserved for the Acadian staff. There were several other Acadians present, various assistants who were making sure that all of their betters’ needs would be met when they arrived.
Several of the Acadians looked at her askance, the combination of her Gallas outfit and glowing skin clearly marking her as an outsider.
However, since Martimus and the other guards accepted her, no one questioned her presence.
Iris snorted…as much as an AI residing in one’s mind could.
Jessica laughed in her mind.
After the meal, the guards ventured out of their accommodations—along with several of the other Acadians—into the courtyard bordered by the servants’ quarters from the various houses.
Men and women from the other houses were already outside, laughing and sharing beer, and wine, and other drinks. Before long, instruments were produced, and a lively dance began.
Jessica was contentedly watching from the sidelines when Martimus swept by, seizing her wrist and pulling her out into the dancing square.
She had seen him coming, and let out a delighted laugh as he swept her into the swirling mass of bodies. They danced for hours as night set in and she could see the glow of her skin reflected on his face.
“I didn’t mention it before—because I didn’t want to appear uncouth—but your skin, how it glows…it is quite enchanting,” Martimus said at one point during the night.”
Jessica smiled as they spun away and then back into one another’s arms. “It’s a rather pleasant modification, though it does make it a bit hard to blend in sometimes.”
“You’re doing a truly admirable job. Even dressed as though you are from Gallas, you have my fellows quite besmitten,” Martimus said, his eyes darting away for a moment before meeting Jessica’s once more. “As am I.”
Jessica said, choosing her words carefully.
“Martimus, we’re enjoying the dance and the company of friends. Perhaps some other time,” Jessica said kindly.
Martimus pressed himself closer to her, his hand sliding from Jessica’s waist to her ass, his breath hot on her cheek as he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “It’s your company I want more of, Jessica.”
She pushed at him gently, careful not to make her dismissal apparent to those nearby. “And you are a fine friend, Martimus, but tonight let us just enjoy The Dance. We can speak more of this later.”
Martimus wrapped his arm around Jessica and clasped her hand firmly. “No, now is the time for you and I.”
She didn’t resist as he led her away from the dance square and around one of the nearby buildings. Jessica longed to put Martimus in his place in front of everyone, but she needed to minimize the extent of his negative reaction to her dismissal. That much she was willing to do for the mission.
Once behind the building, Jessica pulled her hand free of Martimus’ and spun to face him.
“What do you think you are doing, Martimus?” she asked, not having to fake the anger in her voice.
“Jessica, my soul burns for you. I cannot resist your calling, and I know you cannot as well. Would you deny this to me, dressed as a Gallas woman, taunting me with your body, a body clearly modified for sexual pleasure. Are these not the pleasures you clearly excel at?”
As he spoke, he took a step forward and Jessica stepped backward, her back meeting the building’s wall.
“Do not press this issue, Martimus,” Jessica said, her voice dripping with ice. “My answer is no. I am in a committed relationship, my affections are not yours for the taking.”
“Is he here? This man. Will he know? Come now, Jessica,” Martimus began. As he spoke, he pressed forward, placing a hand on Jessica’s breast and sliding his thigh between her legs.
Jessica caught his wrist in a vice-like grip and pulled it away from her body, her other hand flashed out and pushed Martimus back.
“No means no, Martimus,” she hissed. “This is your last warning. Return to the gathering with your dignity still intact.”
“My dignity? You’re the trollop who clearly wants it. Who are you to talk? You’re begging to have me slide between your legs.”
Jessica was still holding his wrist with her right hand; she spun him around, pressing him into the wall, her left forearm against his throat. She pushed hard, giving him just enough room to breathe, but not enough to scream.
“Let me tell you something, Martimus,” she spat his name, her lips centimeters from his face as he wheezed frantically, his left arm clawing at her shoulder. “There is no shame in what I am. There is nothing wrong with the human body, clothed, naked, otherwise. Showing it off, enhancing it, that is a choice anyone may make with their own flesh.
“But it is their body, their flesh. Your eyes may take it in—take me in—and I do not begrudge that; I know I am desirable. But do not make the mistake of thinking that your eyes seeing me, lusting after me, coveting what I am, somehow makes any part of myself yours for the taking.”
“You objectify yourself, you stupid wench,” Martimus gasped, and Jessica pressed harder, cutting off his airway entirely.
“You do realize the fallacy in that statement, don’t you?” she asked. “It is not possible for me to objectify myself. Do I look like a chair, a piece of furniture? I am not an object, and it is not possible for you to possess me. The only thing—the only thing—that can happen between either of us is an open and willing sharing of self.”
Jessica pulled her arm back and Martimus drew in a long, ragged gasp.
“But you don’t share self,” Jessica said as she released him and stepped back. “You only know how to take. You’re broken inside, and you’re trying to get others to fill your emptiness. But what you’re craving can only come after you’re whole.”
Martimus’s gaze lowered, and Jessica hoped for a moment that she had gotten through to him. That perhaps he now knew what he had just tried to do was wrong, and that he should feel shame over it.
But when he raised his eyes, and they unblinkingly met hers, Jessica could see her words had not reached him.
A second later, a knife was in his hand and a wicked grin spread across his face.
“I’m going to gut you, bitch,” he rasped. “No one treats me like you just did.”
Jessica shook her head. “Look, I know excessive force was the wrong tool to use if you are to truly be dissuaded from this course of action, but I need you to understand that you cannot have me. My goal was to place in your mind the fear that what I just did to you may happen again—perhaps it can save some other poor girl form your sweaty indignities.”
“Your words won’t save anyone, least of all yourself,” Martimus said. “And you’re wrong. Before this is done, I will objectify and own you.”
Martimus’s hand darted forward, a solid strike, delivered without over extending his shoulder. But Jessica wasn’t where the knife blade was aimed.
She danced to the side and delivered a kick to his ribs, and then spun away as
he slashed at her.
He was good with his blade, but his fighting style was the same sort Antaris had employed. Sure, powerful strikes, no finesse, and little feinting.
Still, it took her almost thirty seconds to disarm him. And once she did, a knee to his solar plexus followed by a hard blow to the side of his head, was all it took to put Martimus on the ground, gasping for air once more.
Jessica kicked him hard, flipping him onto his back. She planted her boot on his neck digging her heel into his carotid artery.
“I’m going to do you a favor, Martimus,” she said calmly. “Though it is more for me, than for you. I’m going to let you leave with your life, and your body still functioning properly. You are here to do a job, and it is in my best interests if you are able to do so.”
Jessica bent down and placed a knee on his neck, holding her hand in front of his face. She pulled off her glove and wiggled her fingers, triggering an energy surge in her hand, making them glow brightly.
Martimus’s eyes were wide as a silver tendril began to grow from her index finger.
“This is rather advanced nanotech,” she said. “A bit more upscale than most folks have here in Serenity. It can do a lot of things. It can make you strong, weak, it can kill. What’s more, your luddite’s body doesn’t have a lick of defenses against it.”
As Jessica spoke, she lowered her finger toward Martimus’s forehead. His eyes crossed as they followed it and he twitched violently when her finger met his skin.
“You can feel it, can’t you? The nano boring holes through your cranium…. It itches, doesn’t it?” Jessica asked, allowing a cold smile to cross her face. “I realize that this is hypocritical of me. To tell you not to mess with my body as I inject nano into yours, but I don’t have time to see you properly rehabilitated into some semblance of a decent human being.
“Instead, because you have decided to behave like an animal, I shall collar you like one.
“You see, I suspect something is wrong with your limbic brain…that’s the part that controls your base emotions. This little batch of nano is going to go in and seat themselves in your amygdala. There, they shall follow their programming and see if they can help you learn a bit about right and wrong, to help improve your social interactions with others. However, if you ever try to sexually assault a woman—or a man, for that matter—again, they’ll just kill you. And that will be that.”