Текст книги "Enslaved"

Chapter Thirty

“Mother!” Realizing she was still naked in Thrace’s lap, Trin looked frantically for something—anything—to cover up with. Thrace helped by handing her a large, fluffy yew-down pillow. She grabbed it and held it lengthwise against her naked body. “Mother,” she said again and then didn’t know what else to say.

“Lonarra?” Her mother stared at her blankly for a moment. “Lonarra Ellenna Trin, what is going on here? What are you doing?”

Though she had been out on her own for years, making her own way and captaining her own ship, that sharp, maternal tone still had the power to paralyze Trin with fear. Above all things she had always desired her mother’s good opinion. Now it looked as though it would be lost forever.

“Mother,” she said desperately. “I…I can explain.”

“You can, can you?” One pure silver eyebrow rose and her mother gave her a disbelieving look. “You can explain how you come to be sitting naked in the lap of a male who is also naked? And what was that you were saying about being pregnant, before we got a visual feed? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“It’s no joke,” Thrace growled from behind her. “Your daughter was poisoned, Lady Trin. We had to save her life. That’s why we’re…” He cleared his throat. “In this position.”

“Is that so?” Now her mother’s icy gaze was turned upon Thrace, studying him as though he was some kind of pet which had suddenly gained the power of speech. “And whom, may I ask, are you?”

“I am Thrace S’ver, a Havoc of the elder line of S’ver and captain of the merchant class vessel, The Empress,” Thrace said, looking Trin’s mother right in the eye. “I am also, through a long and complicated series of events, currently your daughter’s loyal slave, bodyguard, and companion.”

“You bought a slave?” Trin’s mother looked at her again, frowning. “You know the Daughters of Zetta Prime frown on such practices.” She sniffed. “Among other things.”

“I know but I had to—for trading purposes on Yonnie Six,” Trin said quickly. “And Thrace is…he’s…” She tried to think how to put it. “He’s more than a slave.”

“What do you mean, more?” Her mother’s tone had turned soft and dangerous and Trin felt a shiver run down her back. As a child, she had known that the softer her mother’s voice got, the more severe her punishment would be. Thrace, however, didn’t have the benefit of that knowledge.

“What she means is that I love her,” he said, lifting his chin. “I love your daughter and I have pledged my life to her.”

“So this pet male of yours believes himself to be in love with you?” Her mother’s silver eyebrows rose another notch. “Which is presumably why I find you in the middle of this disgusting, degrading act?”

“No, Mother! I—”

“Enough excuses.” Her mother’s voice rose from a near whisper to crack like a whip. “I had hoped that the vid I was sent by a certain Lady Tam-tam of Yonnie Six was some kind of sick joke—a sham or a fabrication. But now I find you doing this.” She gave them both a look of deep disgust. “And don’t bother to try and play off the situation young lady, I know exactly what I am seeing and it sickens me!”

“Mother, you don’t understand!” Trin exclaimed. “I…I was poisoned. Like Thrace said—with passion berry wine! This…” She motioned with one hand, while she kept the pillow clutched tight to her chest with the other. “Making love with him…was the only way to save my life.”

“Then you should have let yourself die.” The words were spoken with such cold, brutal certainty that Trin gasped and clutched at her heart with her free hand. Her mother’s scorn and harsh judgment gave her an actual, physical pain—like an icy blade piercing her chest.

“Mother, please,” she whispered. “You…you don’t mean that.”

“And if you do, you’re a heartless bitch,” Thrace rumbled menacingly. “How can you speak so to your own daughter?”

“And how can you purport to care for her when you’ve ruined her beyond hope, you…you male?” Trin’s mother shot back. She turned her attention back to Trin. “There’s only one thing you can do now, other than killing yourself. Come home. Come home and subject yourself to the Purification of the Defiled. It is the only way.”

Trin felt her stomach do a slow, awful flip.

“The…The Purification of the Defiled?” It was a rite only the head priestess of the temple could perform—a horrible, painful ordeal which was whispered about with dread. It was mostly reserved for Daughters of Zetta Prime who had been raped or taken against their will in some way by a rogue male. Some said it was a fate worse than death—and her own mother wanted her to undergo it? “Mother, please…” she said numbly.

“Come home,” her mother repeated firmly. “At once. Have the ritual done. I will speak to the Head Priestess, Betina—I will tell her that this male bewitched you in some way and led you into defilement. I’ll make a large donation to the temple—she’ll do the ritual. And then…no one will ever have to know about this horrible thing you’ve done. No one…” She closed her eyes briefly. “No one but me.”

“But…” Trin was trembling. “But it’s supposed to be so painful and…and disfiguring.”

“Look at you!” Her mother’s voice dropped to a low, disgusted whisper. “Look at you, Lonarra. You were once one of the Unpenetrated. I was so proud of that—so proud. And now…” She turned her head. “Now I cannot even bear to meet your eyes.”

“Mother, please…”

“Come home. Quickly. Or I will be forced to go to the temple and have you declared one of the Defiled Dead.” She looked at Trin again. “I don’t want to do that, Lonarra. Don’t make me do that. Come home.”

Before Trin could protest again the image flickered and then died as the viewscreen went black.

* * * * *

“You’re not actually going to go, are you? You’re not really going to do that?” Thrace exploded when the evil woman who was apparently Trin’s mother finally vanished from the screen.

“I have to.” Trin rose from his lap—the encounter with her mother had made Thrace go completely soft so she was able to get up with ease. “I have to,” she said again, going to the clothes storage area and beginning to get dressed. “You heard my mother—there’s no other way.”

“No other way for what?” Thrace demanded.

“No other way for me to be forgiven.” Trin had pulled on one of her familiar black jumpsuits and a pair of black boots. She looked completely different from the female he had served on Yonnie Six but it wasn’t just her clothing that was changed.

Something’s broken inside her, Thrace thought, staring at her in concern and remorse. Gods help me but it’s true.

“Yes, it’s true—something is broken.” Trin spoke in a low, distracted voice and he realized that she must have heard him through their newly forged mental bond. “It’s broken but I can fix it…maybe. If I go home.”

“You can’t go!” he insisted.

“I have to. But there’s something else I have to do first.” She tucked a small, snub-nosed blaster into the folds of her black jumpsuit and turned for the door.

“Trin? Where are you going? What are you planning to do?” Thrace rose quickly, stuffing himself back into the tight leather trousers he wore. Damn it, why hadn’t he gotten himself together when he saw her getting dressed? By the time he was decent, she was already out the door. “Trin!” he called, trying to follow her. But to his horror, he heard the sound of a metal bolt snicking into place—she had locked him in.

“Trin, no—don’t be a fool!” he roared, pounding on the door. When that didn’t work, he kicked it. It held solid despite his best efforts—the metal panel was thick and the bolt was a strong one.

“I have to go.” Her voice was distant and cool from the other side of the door. “I have to do this. You’ll be safe in there and I’ll come get you after…if I can.”

“Trin—” Thrace began but he could already hear her boot heels echoing along the metal corridor as she walked away.

He knew where she was going—to confront Two. And there was no way he could stop her or protect her.

* * * * *

“My, my—back so soon?” Two’s single eye gleamed with malevolent glee as he saw Trin enter the room. “And feeling much better, I hope?”

“Much better,” Trin said evenly. As she spoke, she took in the situation with a single glance. Two was standing in the middle of the control area, the dissipater still held idly in one hand. The crew—the few that were left—were crowded at the far end of the room behind him. Doubtless he had been menacing them earlier but now he had his back to them and was giving Trin his entire attention.

She knew what she had to do—she just had to find someone to help her. Trin let her eyes flick up to meet those of her crew. Yonish, her engineer looked away and so did Talah, the ship’s cook. One by one, they all looked away from her searching glance, denying or ignoring her silent order. But finally, Trin locked eyes with Sidna. Sidna didn’t look away or drop her gaze. She only nodded imperceptibly.

“And did you get what you needed to quench your thirst?” Two taunted. “I understand that the Havoc can be most productive in that area. Is that true?”

“The only thing I’m thirsty for now is your blood.” Trin strode forward, keeping Two’s attention fixed on her.

“Ah-ah, my dear—I don’t think so!” He raised the dissipater and pointed it at her. Trin nodded slightly at Sidna and the medic rushed Two from behind. Locking one arm around his skinny throat, she grabbed the arm with the dissipater and jerked it up sharply, just as he fired.

The dissipater went flying from his grasp and the shot went wild and hit a panel of insulation near the ceiling, burning a huge hole in the greenish-yellow stuff. Luckily it absorbed most of the damage and kept the dissipater blast from eating through to the top of the ship. Trin was distantly grateful for that—she didn’t need a hull breach on top of everything else right now.

Stepping up, she shoved the muzzle of her blaster right under his jaw before he could wriggle loose from Sidna’s grip.

“Good job, Sidna!” Trin told her friend. “And you—hold still.” She glared at Two coldly. “Or I’ll blow your head off now rather than later.”

Two stopped struggling at once. This close to him, Trin could see that the rotten patches in his exposed brain had grown until almost all of the gray, spongy tissue was consumed by putrid, black decay. She could smell his stench—the stench of dead things hidden away in a hot, dark space—even through the clear plasti-shield he wore over that area of his head. She’d been too drugged with the passion berry wine to notice before, but now it made her want to gag. Somehow she held her stomach in check and shoved the blaster even harder into his skinny neck.

“Talah,” she said, without looking away from him. “Go to the anteroom attached to mine and get the manacles on the cot. Bring them here to me now.”

“Y-yes, Captain.” Trembling, Talah did as Trin said and was back in an instant with the manacles—and also Thrace. “I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered to Trin. “I had to let him out when I went in for the manacles. I tried to stop him but he’s so big.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Trin told her, never taking her eyes from Two. “It’s fine. Just put the manacles on the prisoner.”

“I’ll do it,” Thrace said. Sidna stepped back and he took the metal cuffs from the trembling cook and locked them around Two’s skeletal wrists, cinching them tight. “All right,” he said in a low voice to Trin. “Now what? You want to shoot him?”

“Yes, kill him!” Sidna exclaimed in a trembling voice.

“Not yet,” Trin snapped. She gave the medic a look that made the other woman step back. Then she glanced around. “The wine. Where’s the wine he made me drink?”

Thrace rummaged through Two’s pockets and found the flask.

“Here it is—now what?”

“Are there enough for three drinks?” Trin asked coldly.

Thrace frowned. “There are but I’m not sure how it would affect a male of his species.”

“Give it to him. Let’s find out.” Her voice sounded distant and cold in her own ears.

Thrace started to protest then stopped.

“As you wish, Mistress,” he murmured, unscrewing the cap of the flask.

“What? No!” Two protested, trying to jerk away when Thrace pressed the flask to his thin, liver-colored lips. “This is not part of the foretelling! You are supposed to be my doom!” he exclaimed, staring wildly at Thrace. “You’re supposed to shoot me and put me out of my misery—not add to it!”

Thrace frowned. “Are you saying you want to die?”

“Look at me.” Two nodded his head, indicating the rotten patches in his brain. “Once I thought I’d live forever.” He sighed deeply. “Ah, but alas, I am not the same since I received the burst of power which killed my friend. The ache in my brain is more than I can bear…yet I cannot end myself. Why else would I pursue my own death and be certain that you would hate me enough to kill me?”

Thrace stared at him blankly. “And you think I’m the one who’s going to do you in?”

“So it was foretold,” Two said. “Listen…

No Kindred shall kill you

Though you spill rivers of their blood

The one who is your doom

Comes from desert and from flood.

A free-born male

Too proud to bend his knee

Enslaved of his own will

Against his will set free.” He nodded at Thrace. “That’s you, Havoc! Don’t you see? Well—don’t you?”

Trin and Thrace exchanged a glance.

“I don’t know what in the Seven Hells you’re talking about and I don’t fucking care,” Thrace growled. “My mistress says drink so you’re going to drink.”

He forced the first mouthful past Two’s metal teeth while Trin held the blaster centered on him.

“Swallow,” she directed Two. “Try to spit it out and I’ll shoot you someplace extremely painful but not remotely fatal.”

He swallowed, his knot of an Adam’s apple bobbing in his scrawny throat. Almost at once he began to shiver.

“C-cold,” he gasped, his teeth chattering with a strange, metallic echo.

“Well, well—looks like this wine of his works almost immediately,” Thrace remarked. “Must be the special strain of berries he developed for it.”

“Good. Give him the second drink. See how he likes burning up,” Trin said ruthlessly.

Thrace forced a second swallow into Two’s mouth. He was jabbering and babbling now, spouting more words of “prophesy” and boasting about his plans for the future. Not one word in ten got through to Trin. She was too busy watching him through cold, dispassionate eyes and planning her next move.

“The third drink,” she ordered Thrace after Two began to sweat and tug at his black coat, complaining of the heat. “Give him the third drink.”

Thrace looked again like he might protest but then he only shrugged.

“As my lady wishes.”

Two fought and struggled but he was no match for the huge Havoc. As Trin watched dispassionately, Thrace forced the third drink of passion berry wine past the other male’s thin, liver-colored lips. Then he clamped one broad palm over Two’s mouth and nose until, with a convulsive swallow, the wine went down Two’s skinny throat.

“Ahhh!” Two’s eyes rolled back in his head and he shivered all over, his skeletal frame quivering with what Trin hoped was unbearable pain.

Good, she thought. Let him suffer. I hope it hurts—hurts a hell of a lot. Because whatever he was feeling, was nothing to what he had condemned her to endure.

And Trin knew she would have to endure it alone.

“Now what, Mistress?” Thrace asked, breaking her morbid train of thought. He looked down at the writhing, twitching heap that was Two. “Are you finally ready for me to shoot him?”

“No.” Trin frowned. “Bring him and come with me.”

She led the way out of the control area and down the metal corridor leaving the rest of her crew standing there stunned behind her. Thrace hooked one hand under the back collar of Two’s black coat and dragged him like a reluctant pet after her. When they got to the exit for the nearest life pod, Trin stopped and he did as well.

“Now what?” he asked again, frowning. “You want to shoot him and flush his body out the airlock? It would serve the bastard right.”

“No.” Trin was still feeling cold and dispassionate—removed from the situation. It was like she was standing outside of herself, watching this scene as an observer. “No, I want him to suffer. The way he made me suffer.”

“You’re not just talking about the pain and need you felt after he made you take the third drink are you?” Thrace murmured. “I know what you must have felt, having your mother see us like that—”

“How could you know?” Trin demanded. “You have no mother—you never did.”

“No, but I had a Sire and I valued his good opinion greatly—beyond anything else,” Thrace said quietly. “I’m just trying to say that I’m sorry for your pain and humiliation.”

Trin waved a hand. “That’s nothing compared to what—” She stopped abruptly but Thrace stared at her sharply.

“Nothing compared to what?” he demanded and she could feel him trying to find the answer in her thoughts through the strange new link they’d somehow forged while making love.

“Stop it!” She put a hand to her forehead as though to keep him out. “Don’t do that! Stay out of my mind!”

“Sorry.” He had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m just worried about you. I won’t do it again.”

“You’d better not.” Trin shook her head. “Look, let’s dispose of this piece of waste and then we can talk. Out loud—not in our heads.”

Her offer to talk later seemed to placate the big Havoc somewhat.

“All right,” he growled. “Well that’s what I’ve been asking you—how do you want to dispose of him?”

Trin pretended to consider but what she was really doing was imagining a wall—a huge, thick, tall wall to guard her mind from Thrace’s probing. She had no idea if the mental barrier she was picturing would keep him out or not but she hoped so—she couldn’t have him eavesdropping on her now. Not with what she was planning.

“I want you to take him down to the planet—to Yonnie Six,” she said at last, handing Thrace the blaster which he took automatically and tucked into his belt. “Deliver him to Lord X with my compliments. They seem to be in league with each other somehow—let X take care of Two.”

“What? No…no!” Two howled. “I told you, I cannot end myself! I cannot.”

“Nobody’s asking you to, you piece of slime.” Thrace shook him briefly. “Be silent.”

But Two continued to howl and contort, continuing to insist that Thrace was meant to be his “doom.” Trin didn’t mind—all of the crying and carrying on Two was doing was obviously distracting Thrace too much to try using their new link.

“Just take him,” she said, gesturing at the door to the life pod. “Get him out of here. See how well Lady Tam-tam likes having Lord X as a guest when he’s got a moaning, crying wretch of a male to deal with.”

Thrace nodded, a corner of his mouth quirking up.

“Sounds like justice to me. I’ll take him down to X and come directly back.”

“You do that.” Trin nodded and smiled, hoping the expression didn’t look fake. “I…I’ll see you when you get back.”

“All right.” Thrace opened the life pod door and pushed the moaning Two into it. He was about to climb in himself but then he turned back, studying Trin with a frown on his face. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby?” he asked in a low voice.

“No,” Trin said truthfully. “But I’ll manage.”

Thrace sighed. “I know what happened was bad and I know things aren’t resolved between us…” He reached out a hand to cup her cheek but Trin evaded it just as Two voiced a particularly loud howl.

“And they won’t be until you get rid of that piece of trash,” she said, nodding at the open door to the life pod. “Drop him off with Lord X and then we can talk.”

The big Havoc hesitated, as though he wanted to protest or say something else. But Two howled again and he only nodded his head.

“All right, Mistress. As you command, so shall it be done.”

Trin didn’t miss his formal speech or the implications it carried. He was doing this for her as a slave but the other part of him—the male who had claimed her heart and body—wanted to stay and talk.

There’s nothing to talk about. Not anymore, she thought and was glad for the layer of ice which seemed to have formed around her emotions. It was the only thing that made what she had to do bearable.

“Goodbye, Thrace,” she said aloud. “I’ll see you…later. When you get back.”

“All right.” But he still didn’t go. Instead he leaned down and kissed her—just letting his mouth brush hers. A feather-light touch that sent a shiver through her entire body.

“Oh…” Trin whispered. “Thrace, I—”

He pulled back and looked into her eyes.

“You own me,” he murmured. Then, at last he turned and left, shutting the door of the life pod behind him and cutting off Two’s anguished cries abruptly.

Trin watched until the life pod left the ship’s side, disappearing to a tiny silver dot in the small round airlock window. Then she bowed her head.

It was done—Thrace was gone.