Gabriel pointed his feet, which engaged the engine on his back in a short, quick burst of speed. He shot into the opening he created, flipping at the last minute to impact on the wall, leaving a massive dent. Landing on the deck on his feet, he tracked his arm cannon around and sent a whole row of raiders to their maker when they pulled weapons on him. Then he turned on his heel and headed forward to the bridge. He grabbed the hatch and ripped it clean off its hinges, pointing his cannon inside.
“Consortium! Hands in the air!” he shouted through his microphone.
A guard on the bridge got that gleam in his eye and Gabriel put a fiery hole the size of a grapefruit through him and the bulkhead beyond without a second thought.
On the other side of the bridge, Lincoln shouted the same thing as he came in. Seeing that they were flanked and outgunned, the ragtag-looking raiders slowly raised their hands in surrender. Gabriel keyed his radio while Lincoln started rounding up the crew to force them to the back of the bridge.
“Intruder, this is Messenger; we have the Henosis.”
“Awww, and y’all didn’t even save me some…,” Coleton mock whined back at him.
“Roger that, returning to base then. See you when you get that slow ass thing back to the barn.”
***
Hours later, Gabriel entered the interrogation room that held the captain of the Henosis, and tossed his folder of evidence onto the table. He sat down at the table.
They’d flown the airship to Lexington and took the command crew to the Consortium Offices in the city while the rest of the crew was dispersed around the local constable offices to await holding and trial.
“You’ve already been advised of your rights and the reason for the arrest, yes? So here is what we have,” Gabriel told the man who was shackled with his hands behind the chair as he made a show of examining the file. “Your airship has been flagged on multiple counts of air piracy. Jaeger Emancipator’s mountain of evidence alone is enough to have you and your whole crew shot without a trial. Ah, ah, ah,” he said and held up a forestalling hand when the man opened his mouth. “Don’t try to insult my intelligence by saying that you’re just some innocent merchant. We’ve already run your ship through the Theocracy and Corporate States registries and they both came back that you’re a raider.”
Gabriel set the folder down, folded his hands on the table, and looked at the raider captain. “Here are your options. Option A: you talk, you give me your boss’ location, you answer all of my questions that I have about your activities with Taylorsville, and we can get you a plea deal. A Consortium prison up in Greenland, or maybe one in the Australian outback where you’ll spend the rest of your life. Option B: I make you talk and maybe kill you later if I don’t like your answers. As for the final option….” Gabriel pulled his beamer and set it on the table. “We could just skip the Q and A session and the paperwork altogether.” Gabriel gave him a big smile.
The captain eyed the beamer and then looked at Gabriel. “I’ll talk!” He nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll talk.”
“Good,” Gabriel nodded. He noticed beads of sweat had started to develop all over the man’s forehead. “Good! Open dialogue is good for civilization, don’t you think? Let’s start with the ten chests full of gold that we found in your hold.” Gabriel took the pic out of the folder. “Usually, it’s the other way around. Raiders take gold from the civilized countries back to the Wastelands — they don’t take gold from the Wastelands into the Theocracy. In my book, that’s a payoff. Who’s it for?”
“Overseer Anderson in Taylorsville,” the captain replied at once, now breathing hard. “We make like we’re raiding the place, take the women back to the Wastes, leave the gold. That’s how the arrangement always is. He supplies us with women, we supply him with gold.”
Which Anderson, no doubt, then uses to get more girls at auction and uses it as a payoff to Takacy, Gabriel thought as he documented everything the man said. “Just women in general?” Gabriel asked.
“Sometimes,” the captain shrugged. “A lot of times we have a list of preferences. Noblewomen are always good to breed with, and it gives our warlords a shot at legitimacy.”
“Interesting….” Gabriel commented as he jotted that tidbit down, not bothering to mention to the man that any women who are taken into the Wastelands lose their standing almost immediately, so children produced by such unions wouldn’t have claims to any Theocracy assets. “How’s Anderson getting the women for you all?”
Another shrug. “Got me. We don’t care where he gets ‘em from just so long as he gets ‘em for us.”
Gabriel frowned and made a little sound of disappoint-ment. It was a longshot question to implicate Takacy and it fell short. “No knowledge of where your gold is going?”
“Again, we don’t care so long as he gets the goods.”
“How do you all know when to come to the Theocracy for your little… raid?” Gabriel eyed him.
“The boss says to come, we come.”
“Anderson or Frost?”
“Anderson calls Frost. Frost tells us to go,” the captain said.
“And you know that Anderson is calling Frost… how?” Gabriel asked with a skeptical eyebrow.
“I’ve been with the boss when the call comes in. Hell… a lot of us have been since well… you know… new ladies, man.” The captain gave him a sheepish smile. He withered under Gabriel’s hard glare. His eyes flickered at the beamer. “Look… have I given you enough not to be shot?”
“That remains to be seen.”
***
Gabriel irritably tapped his pencil as he reviewed his notes, scribbling little arrows between names to make the connec-tions. “Takacy gets girls on hyped up charges in Atlanta… normally waifs off the street… sometimes middle-class women… occasionally bags a noblewoman…,” he muttered as he drew a line upwards to where he had Anderson’s name. “Anderson takes women that Takacy sends up to him for breeding and sale to local populace… or for sale to raiders at hefty prices… which he then uses to pay Takacy?” He threw down his pencil and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck me, I’m missing something here…,” he breathed as he leaned back in his chair.
“You’re forgetting that someone has to levy charges against the women to begin with,” Coleton pointed out as he came over to the table and passed a mug of coffee to Gabriel. Then he sat down alongside Lincoln who was comparing notes with Gabriel. “Down in Atlanta,” Coleton persisted. “You have to have a D.A. to prosecute.”
“Not too hard in the Theocracy,” Lincoln added, leaning back and stretching, the muscles in his ebony arms rippling. He then ran his hands back over his bald head as he leaned forward. “No shortage of attorneys down there thinking they’re doing the Lord’s work.”
Gabriel snagged his notebook out of his pack and flipped it open to consult what he’d written down in Atlanta. “Ladd from the Spences was new… he set up Lucy during the Consortium’s trial to give him a slam dunk in the Theocracy trial.” He trailed his pencil down the list. “They had a standard go-to guy up until Ladd.”
“Rumor on the street has it that Ladd knew which way the wind was blowing when Eddie got sent up,” Coleton said. Then he shrugged. “He didn’t have to win that trial. There was no way for him to win it, not up against you, Deliverer, and Lucas Wolverton. Y’all had a solid case to the point that the trial was just a formality. You could’ve beamed him on capture and no one in New Eden of Geneva would’ve batted an eye.”
“You know a lot about that case,” Lincoln said with a smirk.
“Helps that I gathered evidence on this end of it,” Coleton admitted.
“It is pretty convenient that Ladd got hired on by the Theocracy courts just after Eddie was executed and that his first trial was Lucy…,” Gabriel thought out loud. “Takacy and Ladd were pretty chummy at the trial.”
“So, you have two money trails here,” Coleton pointed out, using a pencil to draw his own line to Ladd’s name. He then stroked his black goatee as he t
hought things through out loud. “Takacy has Ladd in his pocket, obviously. Anderson is getting paid by the raiders, who use the gold to occasionally pay for girls in Atlanta, and that’s it?” He shook his head. “No, there’s got to be a money trail between Anderson and Takacy to go with the connection that you already have.”
“Takacy has to be on the take from Anderson,” Gabriel said. “It’s the only explanation for why he’d be doing this to begin with.”
“Hell, I can get that information for you in a half hour with a quick radiophone call to Atlanta,” Coleton said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he got up from his chair and walked out of the room.
He returned twenty-five minutes later, grinning broadly and holding a few pages. He tossed them onto the table between Gabriel and Lincoln. “You were right on the hunch. Takacy has a steady stream of gold from Anderson labeled as ‘reelection contributions,’ and Ladd was hired directly by Takacy with a sizable signing bonus when he became a D.A. for the court system. It’s like I keep telling you regular Jaegers — just follow the damn money trail.”
“Fucking hell…,” Lincoln gasped, looking over the records. “And this goes back, what, ten years? How’d he keep it quiet for so long?”
“Small time donations, even ones labeled like this that are above the norms for a standard judge reelection campaign, don’t trigger with the banks,” Coleton explained. “So, unless y’all have a smoking gun like you do here.” He spread his hands, shrugged, and shook his head. “Then there’s no way to know it’s there. Political corruption runs rampant everywhere so it’s easy to obfuscate.”
“Why Lucy, then?” Gabriel wondered out loud.
“Why not, man?” Lincoln was grim. “She’s just another Theocratic girl caught up by events. I’m willing to bet you good money that they didn’t expect a Jaeger to pop in at the last minute to see what they were up to.”
“Had you been even fifteen minutes later to her trial, Gabe, we wouldn’t have known anything,” Coleton said. “Now we have this huge case blown open… thanks to you.”
“Doesn’t make me feel any better with Lucy in iSlave status.” Gabriel muttered. “But, it’s a start. Let’s call this in to New Eden, get the evidence logged, and then get out to the Michaelson estate. Lucy will be thrilled to hear that we’ve made progress.”
“We’re also going to need to make house calls to every major house up and down the west coast of the Theocracy,” Lincoln added, “before we check on your girl. If I know one thing, it is that when Wasteland raiders lose an airship, there’s usually a big attack on the borders as they try to make up for the loss.”
“Perfect… that’s just all we need right now,” Gabriel spat.
CHAPTER 11
Sticking with her set schedule, Lucy got up at the morning’s first light. She took care of her personal business and hygiene before dressing in the very skimpy maid’s outfit that Deacon required her to wear. It was a black and white frilly maid’s dress in which the hem was high enough to leave little to the imagination and cut low enough to give support to her breasts while also leaving them exposed. It had been humiliating at first, but once she noticed that she was dressed just like every other house slave at the Michaelson estate, save for maybe the pair of favored pair of vSlaves that Deacon owned, that feeling soon passed. Once she was in the dress and hose, she put the lacy black and white choker into place over her iron collar, and then affixed the little maid’s cap into her hair before applying her simple makeup.
Once in her ‘uniform,’ she left her small quarters in the attic level of the estate that was no bigger than the conjugal cell in Atlanta where she and Gabe had made love. It had the basic necessities and that was it — a corner shower stall and toilet, a sink right next to it, a single dresser with the different outfits that Deacon would want her to wear, and her bed. It was more furnished and private than her cell, so she couldn’t complain about the upgrade.
Exiting the quarters, she followed the same path as she had for the last couple of months — down the narrow hall that ran under the peak beam of the estate to the wrought iron spiraling staircase that led down into the servant’s wing.
She went down the four floors into the basement level, where one of her fellow maids was already serving breakfast for the entire staff — eggs, toast, sausage, water, and some juice. Lucy smiled and thanked her before wolfing down her meal and departing.
As much as she would’ve preferred to savor the meal, she quickly learned that there was no rest for a slave maid. If she ever regained her status as a prominent member of the aristocracy again, she’d make it a point to treat the house slaves with a bit more dignity and compassion. Their job was not an easy one.
Lucy set about her morning task, which was to report to the main kitchen directly above them, one floor up, and retrieve the tray of food that consisted of the family’s breakfast and the most current newssheet.
RIGGING AIRSHIP JAMESON’S REVENGE GOES OFF THE RADAR. CHEYENNE SUSPECTED. CONSORTIUM GOLD TO BE DISPATCHED AT WEEK’S END.
Once upon a time, she would’ve been scared witless at the mention of the infamous air pirate, but today she could care less. Her life was much simpler now. With the large silver serving tray in her hands, she was allowed out to the main hallways where she would be in full view of the family and any guests they might have.
A quick stroll down the spacious open hallway, with its multiple works of art lining the walls and a maroon carpet that ran its length, and Lucy was at the massive dining room. The Michaelson family was now coming in, having just arose maybe a few minutes before she got there. The elder Michaelsons, seated side by side at the head of the table, were served their breakfast first. Lucy placed the massive tray down on a nearby tripod holder, lifted the cover to place to one side, and served them their respective plates first. Then it was Deacon’s turn as the official head and manager of the house, along with the woman he was currently considering as a marriage match.
“Thank you, Lucy,” Deacon said in his even tone as always, looking at her and admiring her semi-nude body with a nod of approval.
When she began her servitude with him, she blushed furiously under his gaze, but now she took it all in stride. She smiled brightly at him as she carried on her duties.
“Dear,” the brunette, a girl named Suzie, said with a pointed look at Deacon by her side, “I really wish that you wouldn’t look at the help in front of me like that.”
“Why not?” Deacon asked playfully. “She’s an attractive woman who I happen to own for the next ten years,” he pointed out while giving his girlfriend with an equally pointed stare. “I could go even further, as is my right within the terms of her contract, to bend her, or any of my maids, over the table here and screw her while the family partakes of breakfast. Lucky for you, however, I treat my staff with far more dignity than that, regardless of what their original contract states.”
To emphasize his point further, Deacon reached over to Lucy, up under her skirt, and cupped her sex. Lucy froze, not sure if she liked that he was doing that, and then quickly realizing that she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. By law, he could bend her over the table right now and take her.
This was actually the first time he’d touched her. She had been feeling needy and hadn’t had any intimate contact since Gabriel on her last rights night. A few months ago, she was sitting just like Deacon’s suitress at a table, facing a marriage prospect, and now here she was a lowly slave. But, that was not what she found peculiar. It was odd because she felt freer now than she ever had. Gone were the days of worrying about goodness and propriety. Now, she just had to know what to do, and didn’t have to think about whether she was upsetting any particular member of society. Now, she only had one person to please, and that was the man who was now fondling her, while having a stern talk to his potential betrothed. It was a freer life, but bizarre in its own way.
She lost track of the argument that erupted between Deacon and his girlfriend, instead focusing
on the desire welling up inside her and her inclination to keep as straight a face as possible. It didn’t help that Deacon kept glancing at her body, while giving her mound a squeeze, just to prove a point to Suzie. Lucy closed her eyes, took deep, calming breaths through her nose, and bit her lower lip to keep her passion in check.
“Thank you, Lucy,” Deacon said finally by way of dismissal, taking his hand away and flicking it in her direction.
Blushing furiously, Lucy managed a polite curtsey before quickly gathering the serving tray and hustling out of the room as fast as her legs could take her. Rushing back down the hallway and into the kitchen, Lucy unceremoniously dumped the tray into the nearest wash basin before heading back down the stairs into the safety of a bathroom. Locking the door behind her, she planted herself over the simple sink and took more calming breaths to calm her nerves and drive her elevated passion down a few notches. Off in the distance, she heard the ring of an incoming call, but ignored it as her duties lay in serving and cleaning, not answering the radio telephones.
She took a few minutes in the bathroom to compose herself so that she’d be presentable as she carried out her duties for the rest of the day. After splashing some water over her flushed face and chest and drying herself off, she slid a hand down her black panties to confirm what she already knew — she was wet, all because of her master’s attention. Knowing that she didn’t have enough time to rush back up to her quarters to change, Lucy dried herself off with some tissue, flushed it, and then checked herself out in the mirror to ensure that she was presentable once again. Part of her felt guilty that Deacon… Lord Michaelson… could make her feel this way, but the reality was that Gabriel was her past and this was her future… for the next ten years, anyway.
There wasn’t much time to lose as the entire household would be busy today with preparations for the Michaelsons’ end of summer gala. She would just have to take care of herself in her quarters later, another activity that she would’ve never have done when she was a part of the prim and proper society above.
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