Driven to Inertia

by T C

  But he was a Justiciar, and the quick path –the easy path– wasn't the one he walked. So he mastered himself, and followed Kaydia through the halls of Linora's compound until they reached her private port and her yacht. Leaving Kaydia to secure the prisoner - did he trust his lover, even now? He didn't know, but he had the feeling he could. For now, at least. So he raced for the cockpit and settled in. Pre-flight was smooth and easy, and within minutes the small yacht was hurtling spaceward in full antigravity.

  ***

  “Get us somewhere safe,” Kaydia instructed Quentin, pushing Linora back towards the cells on board the ship. She knew there was one on board that would hold a psionics user. The one that held Quentin as they traveled from Procopia back to Miruta. She put Linora into the restraints and before turning her attention to the locked boxes in the room, containing all sorts of torture equipment.

  “You really think this will hold me? I designed it. I’ll be out inside ten minutes.” Linora taunted, voice hoarse with rage. Kaydia ignored her, finding the compartment that held the drugs. Just as she suspected, there was some Inertia on board. “What are you going to do, Kaydia? Shoot up like the junkie you are?” Linora growled, struggling against her restraints even now.

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” Kaydia answered, measuring out a large dose. She came around to Linora’s side, and tied the tourniquet around her arm.

  “You wouldn’t let me do this to him, but you’ll do it to me?” Linora roared, thrashing about. “You will suffer, you whore! I’ll have you raped a hundred times over. I’ll sell you to the nastiest hole in the wall brothel to be fucked for peanuts. I’ll leave you to rot in a cell while each of my men use you like the filthy slut you are!” Despite her struggle, Kaydia squeezed her arm still, long enough to push the needle into her vein and release the drugs into her system. It only took a moment for the cruel slew of threats and insults to stop, as Linora hung limply in the cell.

  “Don’t bother trying to cleanse it from your system,” Kaydia instructed, keeping a hold of the Inertia for now, “It only makes the withdrawals come on faster. Trust me.”

  Suddenly something rocked the ship, a blast from another ship or anti-aircraft cannon, no doubt. She rushed over to the gunner seat.

  Kaydia fell against the gunner seat as another shot shook the ship, bracing herself as she tried to get into position. Sitting down as another blast shook the ship, Kaydia felt her rage building once more. She tried to focus it on the targets, as she unleashed several laser blasts, but the smaller ships dodged with ease.

  This was not something the assassin or former acolyte had any experience with. She had some experience piloting but not with ship gun battles. And her experience with guns didn’t really translate that well over here. Snub fighters moved far quicker that people did, and did so in three dimensions.

  One came in from the lower left, and Kaydia followed a few clicks, half a dozen missed shots before it was out of range. “Fuck,” she growled shifting her attention towards another coming in from the mid right. She needed to focus, if their escape wasn’t going to be pointless. One deep breath later, Kaydia could see the path it would take, and suddenly she was leading the ship, instead of following it. Trusting her instincts, her fingers squeezed the triggers, and she was rewarded with an explosion of one of their pursuers.

  “Boom!” She called out, actually ecstatic that things were going her way for once. Another deep breath then, she needed to focus. There were still five of them. Quentin had steered the Ship between two tall buildings, and it caused the two ship directly behind them to line up to fit in the slender crevice. The next few shots were easy, and now they were down half their hunters.

  Once they were back out in the open, Kaydia readied herself to take another shot, putting her trust into psionics to guide her. She saw the ship’s movement in mind, and readied the attack, body tensing as she waited for the precise moment-

  The ship jerk as the fighters counterattacked, disrupting her aim. It was harder this time to push back her rage, letting off several wide shots out of frustration. She took a few more breaths, reminding herself that the longer this went on, the more likely they were to getting captured. The closer they were to Linora making good on the threats she had just issued. With serenity she hadn’t felt in a long time, Kaydia turned her attention back to their trackers. Feeling her body react right at the right moment to blast another ship out of the air. All she had to do was trust herself, and psionics. Patience, tranquility, at one with the essence of all living things. Unconsciously she took another shot, another shot that hit its mark.

  You haven’t forgotten everything I thought you, Master Bri Ta’s voice inflected upon the thoughts. Immediately shame filled her, reminding her of what she had done, ten years ago. Reminding her of what she had done, less than an hour ago, as Quentin begged her to stop. Linora was right, she was just like her. She was nothing but Scarlet, nothing but a killer. Doubt clouded her mind now, as the last fighter ship peppered the yacht.

  No! Quentin was counting on her. If it were even possible to even earn his forgiveness or trust again, not getting captured against was certainly the first step. Once more she steadied herself with a deep breath letting psionics take over her senses and reflexes. The movements were quick and erratic, but still, with her mind opened to the possibilities of psionics, she found a shot, and took it. She smirked as the last of their trailers were dispatched. Without any more distractions, Quentin left orbit, and set the hyper drive. To where, Kaydia had no clue.

  ***

  Friction ignited air into plasma as Linora's yacht punched a hole through the Mirutian mesosphere. Quentin, no stranger to these sort of desperate escapes, angled the deflectors and jigged and juked as the Headhunters blasted away. Kaydia scored a few hits in response, damaging one fighter and disintegrating a second in an expanding cloud of superheated wreckage. Then a chime sounded and, as Quentin pulled a lever, the stars stretched and vanished.

  "We're away," Quentin said, slumping back in his chair. "Bound for Procopia, again. Our stuff is still there, if no other reason.”

  Our. The word hung in the air, silent and menacing, a reminder of what had happened. Another reminder, as if the electrical burns weren't enough. Or the chafed scrapes on wrist and ankle. Or the fact that he was still naked, and he could still smell Linora on his skin. The thought brought unbidden memories –the sight of Kaydia and Linora together, the heady cocktail of shame and rage and lust as the two women had taken turns using him– and his cock hardened in response.

  "I..." he started to say, then let it die. "I can't do this, not right now," he said angrily, pushing himself up and marching blindly past Kaydia. "I'm going to go and try to clean up."

  Anguish

  Linora, it seemed, was something of a hedonist.

  Quentin shifted in the large tub he'd found, submerging everything but his face, and peered around the room. Subdued lighting, tasteful art, an actual tub.On a starship. Sure, the water could also serve as reaction mass, but it was enormously self-indulgent.

  Sitting back up, he grabbed the bottle of brandy he'd taken from her liquorstocks, and swallowed a burning mouthful. It didn't help, didn't take the edge off. He was still... confused. He wanted to kill Linora. Or take her in. Or just go into her cell and fuck her raw, whether she wanted it or not. He loved Kaydia. He hated her. He wanted to fuck her. Fuck Linora. Fuck them both. Use them the way they'd used him.

  Another swallow. He wanted to curl up and sob. Another swallow. He wanted to scream, to break things. Another swallow. He knew he should meditate, regain his focus and balance. Another swallow. He didn't want to. He just wanted to feel numb, to stop hurting. Another...

  Empty. Fuck.

  His eyes fell on the other bottle. The one filled with a faintly floral scented thick amber fluid. Throwing the empty brandy bottle aside, he picked up the jar. He knew the merakuya wouldn't take the pain away. But it would numb it, for a time, under a haze of euphoria and sensory stimulation
.

  His fingers worked the lid off, seemingly of their own volition, and the rich scent of the honey filled the air. It would be so easy...

  Kaydia joined him them, knocking the Merakuya away with her power psionics. “You’re a Justiciar, not some junkie! You are better than this, and you know it. I know it’s easy to give in, to give up, to surrender to the pain. But you are stronger than this. You don’t need drugs.”

  The jar, which was made of a stiff plastic, clattered and bounced along the tiles. He stared at it, watched it lay on its side as the honey within tried to decide if it was going to flow out. The subdued lighting struck lines of dull fire from the amber fluid. "A Justiciar?" he murmured. "Yeah, some Justiciar."

  He threw himself across the tub, water sloshing out onto the floor as he opened what distance he could between them. "And what do you care?" he snapped, trying to ignore the love and shame and self-loathing and concern that flowed from her mind.

  “Quentin I…”

  "You've got your Inertia, don't you? That's what you wanted, isn't it? Inertia, and Linora?"

  “Yeah Quentin, because this is what I want. To be shackled to the damn drug that wrecked my life. To be used by a cartel that tortured me.”

  He should be better than this. She was right, and he knew it. But he hurt. Not physically, not really. But his inability to protect her from the pirates mingled with his helplessness when he'd been raped to make him want to try not to care. And the confusion in his mind, the realization that - on some level - he'd wanted Linora only made it worse. Had he actually tried to escape, or had he allowed her...

  "Get out..." he snarled out through gritted teeth, reaching out through psionics and calling the tumbled jar back to his hand. "Leave me alone."

  “You want to be on this stuff? Just give up, and give to the numbness? Why even bother leaving then? Let’s both go back to Miruta and succumb to our vices. It’s easier that way Quentin. Let’s all just do what is easy.”

  ”Are you mad I let her rape you, or mad I stopped her before you could finish?”

  He knew she was trying to provoke him. He could feel it. And ordinarily, he could have shrugged it off. But right now? Right now he wanted to lash out, to hurt someone - himself, or her if she wouldn't let him. "Yes!" he roared, ignoring the jar as he lunged forward. It sailed past to smack into the far wall, and he grabbed her wrists with bruising force as water sloshed over her. "Damn you!" he screamed, jerking her towards him. "You showed her how! Showed her my weaknesses, and you made me..."

  He gritted his teeth. Made him what? Made him remember Linora as she had been, when they'd been young and in love and thrilling to the forbidden fruit of their relationship? Made him enjoy her attack? Made him want, on some level, to participate?

  With another howl of anger and self-loathing he jerked her wrists, dragging her into the water. "You bitch!" he screamed in her face, slamming her into the far side of the tub. "I trusted you! I loved you!" He advanced, fists balled. "I love you, and you… you..." Suddenly, his hand was locked around her throat as he shoved her against the edge of the tub, choking her. "I..." he gasped, tears of shame and sorrow and rage streaming down his cheeks. "I... I..."

  “Quen…tin…” She gasped, as his grip tighten around her neck. She reached for him for his face, her thumb rubbing a tear away. She didn’t fight him off, didn’t stop him, just looked up at him with resigned eyes.

  “I’m…sorry.”

  The effect was like ice water splashed across his naked body, and Quentin suddenly released her. Shaking, suddenly ashen, he backed away. "What... what was I..." He blanched as he saw the bruises on her throat, stark and fresh against her skin. That led him to see the other bruises on her body, wrists and ankles and on the exposed curve of her breasts, marks left by her own would-be rapists. Pirates who had been far more brutal than Linora had been.

  His fury drained away like a lanced boil, and he could feel the truth of what she had said. He could see her memories, and saw how she'd done what she could to prevent him from being tortured and killed. Of how her betrayal had been an effort to save his life. The sudden shock of remorse nearly crushed him to the deck with its weight. "No, Kaydia. I'm sorry."

  Hesitantly he leaned forward. Gently he pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered, fresh tears in his eyes. He traced the bruises he'd left on her skin, and a fresh wave of self-loathing lashed through him. "You... you tried... to help me. And I..." He gritted his teeth. "I'm a fool, Kaydia. A fool, and hardly a Justiciar. Not if I can lash out at the woman I love. At you."

  “No Quentin. I hurt you. Misguided or not, I hurt you. You were right to be mad, to feel betrayed. I’m no good for you.” She pulled away and looked into his eyes, heavy with sorrow and despair, reflecting her own pain.

  “You shouldn’t trust me, because… I killed Master Bry-Ta.” She let the truth hang in the air, pulling her knees up to her chest, feeling fresh guilt wrack her. Linora is right. I’ll never be anything but Scarlet.”

  Ashamed of himself, now, Quentin held her closer. "No," he murmured, "that's not true. Anyone can change, Kaydia. Anyone." He forced a grin he didn't feel. "Admittedly, killing your own Master..." The grin faded quickly. "No, I'm sorry. That's..."

  He lifted her chin, and kissed her gently. "And I already know you did," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "I've been in your mind, remember? Felt your memories, just like I'm sure you've felt mine." His hands stroked her back, feeling supple muscle roll beneath smooth skin and clinging fabric. "I'm a killer as well, for all that I've tried to kill for what I hope are good reasons. The Code says that a Justiciar uses psionics for defense, never to attack. But... well... we both know how well that works out in practice."

  He kissed her again. "And maybe the Council forbade love for a good reason. Or, at least, what they thought was a good reason. But... you know what? I don't care." Pain shot through him then. Not physical pain, but emotional pain as he flashed back to her betrayal of him in Linora's cell. "I don't care," he murmured, pushing the memory away. "Because... because you tried. Even when you thought you were just Scarlet, you tried. Tried to help me. Tried to save me."

  Something stirred in his blood as the memories flickered at the edge of his mind. "Because... I love you," he said, kissing her again. "Kaydia or Scarlet, it doesn't matter." Another kiss, this time deepening as that something stirring in him blossomed into a flame and his lips forced hers open so his tongue could thrust deep into her mouth. His muscles shook with the effort of restraining himself as he pulled her body tight against his, feeling her contours against his seperated only by thin, wet cloth.

  "Because I want you," he hissed, eyes filled with hunger as he pushed her back so her ass rested against the lip of the tub. Hands which had been gentle only moments before became possessive, tracing and gripping her flesh with a desperate urgency. His cock pressed into her as he pinned her against the tub, grinding against her slit in time with the tongue that drove deep and hot and wet between her lips. "Now," he growled, gripping her face and kissing her again, ravishing her mouth with his desire. His hands slid down her throat and between them, cupping and molding to her breasts. "Now, hot and wet and hard, Kaydia."

  Cloth screamed as his fingers gathered in the fabric of her dress and pulled, tearing the wet fabric to her waist. Rough, hard hands cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples, and his teeth tugged roughly at her lower lip. "I want to hear the infamous assassin Scarlet scream my name."

  Her position was precarious , hovering just over him, the friction of her body pressed into the tub wall was the only thing in-between them. But she was soaking wet, and the water sloshed about them as he ripped off her clothes, and everything was slippery, and –Kaydia gasped loudly–suddenly he filled her. The hips smacked together in a wet crash, and he was completely sheathed within her.

  “Fuck…Quentin,” she groaned, her forehead pressed against his.

  "That's it," Quentin gasped, driving himself into her. "Let me hear you."
/>
  Her mouth found his, devouring him as his fingers slipped over slick, wet skin to take a bruising grip on her hips and ass. His moan of pleasure was a hungry snarl as he pistoned into her, the air filled with the wet slaps of flesh against flesh and water splashing from the tub as they moved together.

  "I love you," she sobbed out, voice thick with words that dripped with truth and desire. "I love you."

  In response he shifted his grip, hands slipping under her thighs to lift her higher. "I know," he grinned, hunger in his voice. He pressed into her, cock driving into her depths as his teeth found her throat. "But you're... talking... too much..." he growled.

  Without warning he pulled out, aching for the tight heat of her sex as he did. He spun her around, pushing her down and gripping her wrists, pinning her hands to the edge of the tub as his steel-hard meat throbbed against the curve of her ass. "I'll make love to my sweet Kaydia later," he hissed into her ear, nipping sharply at her lobe. One hand trailed up her arm, groping a breast before spreading her slit and sinking into her lubricated depths. "But right now," he said, cock moving against her ass, "I want my Scarlet to beg me to fuck her."

  The finger in her cunt began moving, thrusting in and out in time with the rock-hard meat grinding against her ass. "Beg me," he growled, teeth scraping the back of her neck. "Beg me to fuck you."

  Her hungry cunt swallowed the finger her offered. A pale imitation of his cock, he knew and he mocked her further, moving the digit at the same pace of his body against her. “Fuck me,” she gasped out, grinding against him. “Fuck me, Quentin,” she cried, tensing around the finger that slid in and out of her. “Please, please, please…” there was no performance in her words, no pretense. Raw honestly, unfiltered need fueled her words, and her struggles. “I need your cock. I need you. Fuck me!”

  It took all of his training to not just fuck her then, when she bucked back against him. The feel of her mound cupped in his hand, of her slit sucking and milking his finger as worked it in and out if her was indescribable. And the firm globes of her ass grinding against his aching shaft as she pressed it back against his stomach threatened to send his seed spurting over her back at any moment. Which was a thought that nearly made him go weak at the knees, imagining his milky cum streaking her body and dripping down her thighs...