Nell Thorn

by Sophie Angmering

  Nell braced herself as another round of fire hit her ship side-on, making it buck and rock.

  Pirates had attacked them just as they had made it to the edge of Rim space, coming out of nowhere to ambush them from the cover of an asteroid belt. There was no reason why they would not; the craft they were travelling in was not a GEF vessel, but a humble diplomatic transport barge with a fraction of the firepower of Nell’s usual ship. It was a necessary concession when crossing borders with the Rim. Any act that transgressed Rim Treaty law or could be construed as an act of aggression by the GEF was always contested by the Rim authorities.

  The Rim pirates had obviously identified them as easy pickings.

  Nell’s craft returned what fire it could, but it soon became apparent that they were being outgunned and outmanoeuvred by the Rim-class pirate ship. Nell made the decision to make a last desperate bid to get to Fleet space, and instructed her crew to take the barge off at speed through the asteroid belt, much to the surprise of her ship’s attackers. They chased her, firing at the barge as it went.

  Then a larger, faster vessel joined them and Nell thought for a glorious moment they were saved, until it turned on them and fired at point-blank range as it made a pass on one side.

  Whump, whump, whump.

  It was no good. Three direct hits to one side knocked the diplomatic barge sideways into the largest asteroid they had encountered so far. It damaged the ship’s systems and the energy packs responsible for lighting and life support.

  Abandon ship.

  * * * *

  Nell could hear the air escaping through the damaged hull even as she lay there on the floor. The life pods had been discharged at her command. As ranking officer she had elected to stay until all the crew were evacuated, but as the last one made its bid for the Fleet boundary with the Rim the barge had been fired on, even as it lay immobile on the asteroid’s surface.

  It had been game over for the ship’s hull, life support and, the way things were going, thought Nell, her, too.

  It was only a matter of time. The lights were flickering out one by one as the power failed, and the air leaks were hard to ignore.

  Nell had no idea how long she had been lying there, wondering when the air would run out, until a pair of booted feet appeared within her line of vision.

  The owner of the boots crouched down and started to laugh.

  “Why, Helena Thorn—how poetic! Well, if one is speaking of justice, that is.”

  It was Gordon. So, somehow, he had managed to escape the trip back to the psych assessors of the IGW after all. He looked down at her with a nasty smirk.

  “Tables have turned now, haven’t they, Commander Thorn?” He nodded, agreeing with himself before he straightened and walked around the bridge of her ruined ship, pretending to inspect the smashed panels, tapping broken equipment.

  “You really do have a look of your father about you, Helena Thorn.” He returned to her side and hunkered down next to where she lay. “You really do. He was a handsome man in his youth…we both were. Saw a lot of each other, he and I. An awful lot, if you know what I mean.…maybe more than was proper for ambitious Fleet officers but that’s all in the past now. I loved him, you know, really loved him, but even that will not be enough to save you. Because you, Nell Thorn, are the daughter of the man that broke my heart…”

  Nell stifled a groan and rolled her eyes up into their sockets. Hell of a time to find out something you didn’t know about one of your parents.

  So Gordon and her father did have a history, just not quite the one she had imagined. Her original assumptions had featured more in the way of competition than attraction.

  “So you’re going to leave me here to die?” she asked him hoarsely. Nell could hardly draw breath; her chest was so painful it seemed likely she must have at least cracked a rib when the barge had crashed sideways into the asteroid. Then, as if that was not enough, she had been thrown across the damn command centre when the final three bolts had hit.

  “Well, that might have been the case before you went and became the centre of attention at some Rim function a little while ago. You, Sector Commander Thorn, have something of a price on your head. Even without the mind wipe turning you into a convenient little sex toy, I do believe there are a few ‘collectors’ who would pay handsomely for the opportunity to have you in their power. All the more now that there are scurrilous rumours that feature you as Rowe’s ex-fuck buddy. It would appear that many find the thought of reaming an arse tagged by Rim Lord Rowe so attractive they are, as I said previously, prepared to pay for the pleasure.”

  How the hell did Gordon know she hadn’t got round to getting the tag removed yet?

  Nell shut her eyes against the pain in her chest as she drew breath. Shallow gasps were all she could manage, and she could have sworn she could hear her ribs clicking.

  “Still keeping company with slavers then, Gordon?” she asked him.

  “They deal in a commodity just like everyone else does, Commander. Do tell me what the difference is between the slavers you so vocally despise and your own role in ferrying people around, in a cage, from one part of space to another for Talbot and the Fleet. If one leads by example, the very fact you were ostensibly buying people for sex is quite reprehensible.”

  “I was doing my job. I was saving their lives.”

  “No, you were doing it to gain promotion, Commander, for personal gain. Not so different, then, are we?”

  Talbot’s words about not growing a conscience on him echoed through her head. Nell shook her head, attempting to focus. “It was different. I was helping…”

  “Were you, Commander Thorn? Were you really? How sure are you that that is indeed true?”

  Was she? Had she really been helping the people Talbot had asked her to collect? Maybe Gordon had a point.

  The man was a devil.

  But the fact remained that she had never knowingly sent people to certain death. Gordon and the slavers had, and therein lay the difference.

  “The slavers are scum, and you are scum for associating with them,” Nell hissed out from between gritted teeth. “And now you are just like them, on the run. Bit of a comedown, eh, Commander Scum?”

  Gordon’s face twisted into a vicious mask and for a brief moment Nell thought he was going to kick her. Hard and in the right place, it would probably have been enough to finish her off once and for all, but instead Gordon put his mouth to her ear and said, “You think you can provoke me into killing you, Helena Thorn?”

  His breath was hot on the skin of her ear in the rapidly chilling ship. “That is not going to happen, because I’m not about to damage the valuable merchandise.”

  With that he seized Nell’s arm and pulled her up onto her feet with surprising strength.

  As she was moved upright, Nell’s agonised scream of pain drew forth a long laugh from Gordon and left her fully vertical, but choking on excruciating sobs of air.

  “Your precious Rim friends live in a society where the slave trade is alive and well, Commander Thorn. They buy and sell people for all kinds of reasons, no questions asked.

  “And, best of all, when you drop off the face of existence, the other scum they call Rim pirates will get all the blame. And, as for me, I’ll get to go away with even more money than I have now.” Nell felt rather than saw him smirk. “That’s the Rim, baby. Nothing matters but money.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was an exclusive affair. The other men and women present alongside her made Nell feel like an old hag.

  They were all, every last one of them, gorgeous creatures.

  Exquisite.

  And available for purchase.

  What had alarmed Nell most of all was how civilised everyone appeared. Customers dined lavishly before the event commenced, and remained sitting at their tables as the sale started, the auction being the after-dinner entertainment.

  Nell watched each one of her fellow participants go up for sale until it was her turn, shifting
awkwardly in her seat whilst she did so. Her fractured ribs had been fused and treated, but if she sat still for any length of time they ached with a vengeance.

  This is no worse than being a prisoner of war, she told herself firmly. Stay alive; stay alert; stay ready to make good your escape.

  No one had been cruel, as such; it was the situation that was cruel. Unbearable, insufferable and inhumane.

  “This next lot needs little introduction. Anyone at the recent Council gathering will no doubt remember the marvellous scrap between the GEF Commander and the notorious Woodson Rowe.”

  She was shoved forwards. They had dressed her in a nasty, gauzy little shift identical to those worn by the other lots in the sale. She looked and felt ridiculous.

  Nell balled her hands into fists. If anyone laughed at her, she would deck them.

  “Has her mind been wiped?” It was a surprisingly cultured voice. Nell scowled in the general direction of its owner.

  “That is a good point. Was the mindelve done?” another asked, in a rougher tone this time. “And has any tagging been removed?”

  “No,” the auctioneer stated apologetically, “she is untouched. But, then, think of it as not only something to enjoy”—he pulled a knowing face and tapped his brow at the person who had spoken—“but a head packed full of critical Fleet information. To the right person, a fantastic package, I think you would agree.”

  Nell felt nauseous. She was being sold as a project.

  “You sick fuckers,” she ground out.

  A ripple of derogatory laughter echoed about the sumptuous room.

  “Yes, indeed, lady. Sick Rim fuckers, better get used to it,” called out one wag.

  “So, how much am I bid?” the auctioneer shouted out above the general amusement.

  There was a pause as the first bid was waited on.

  Nothing was forthcoming.

  “Come on, ladies and gentlemen—look at what you are getting. This is the real deal! This was a Sector Commander of the Galaxy Elite Fleet, and what a Sector Commander. This is your chance to ‘fuck over’ the Fleet.” He mimicked her swearing almost perfectly.

  Much raucous laughter followed his words. It was some time before the level of amusement dropped sufficiently for another question to be heard.

  “Who is the vendor?” asked a clear voice from the back of the room.

  “Sir, I cannot divulge who the vendor is, but suffice to say he is more than prepared to meet you after the sale for the exchange of funds.”

  “It’s a Fleet traitor,” Nell called out. “My predecessor, Gordon. So you might want to think again about handing your money over to a turncoat bastard.” Nell felt better for letting everyone in the room know Gordon was behind it. “Just how many of your relatives do you think he’s killed in the course of his career? Think on that before you give him your credits…”

  The auctioneer looked as if he were about to explode. “Silence her!” he roared. “She’s divulging confidential customer information!”

  Despite rough handling and their best efforts to cover her mouth, Nell fought to carry on her protest. “Ask yourselves what the Fleet might do. No…better still, ask what—” Nell demanded, her voice rising to fill the room.

  Oof! She was seized from behind by a giant of a man, who she managed to incapacitate by back-kicking him in the balls. As he dropped to his knees, releasing her, another two set upon her, wrestling her to the floor as she fought them every which way. They pushed Nell down, held her cheeks in an iron grip, brutally squashed a sonic gag into her mouth and secured it. Her arms were hauled up behind her back, locked, and she was pushed down on to her knees, her tunic rucked up on one side to expose her bare breasts.

  The room was almost quiet, save for the desperate scuffling noises as Nell fought on, mute, her gaolers attempting to keep her in a kneeling position, the audience hungrily drinking in the aggression before them. The two men eventually stilled her by pushing her onto her injured side and holding her head hard against the venue floor.

  “At last, silence!” the auctioneer announced with a great show of relief. “So, you may indeed ask yourselves what the Fleet might do, or…”

  “Even better still, ask yourself what I might be capable of doing,” interrupted a familiar voice from the back of the room.

  Whereas Nell’s objections had brought laughter, this brought a stunned silence.

  “It’s the Rim Lord, Rowe!” The horrified whisper from one of the tables was clearly audible.

  Rowe walked slowly up to the auctioneer’s podium before looking around at the assembled faces sat at the dining tables, long and hard. “And now I know who you all are.”

  There was one moment of frozen disbelief before pandemonium broke loose.

  Everyone attempted to dive through the exits at once to escape.

  * * * *

  Nell lay on her side on the floor, hair in her face, deafened by the vibrations of hundreds of feet running for the exit.

  In he comes, I’m lying here, hair in my eyes, tits hanging out, no face paint, looking like shit, and he looks like… Nell slowly shook one particularly thick lock of hair from her eyes and looked up at the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

  She gave a heartfelt groan.

  A roll of nausea swept over her, followed almost instantly by panic. If she threw up with the gag still in her mouth, she’d choke.

  “Nell, are you okay?” Angel was suddenly by her side. He looked into her eyes and must have seen the desperate fear in them as he moved quickly to remove the gag. “She can’t breathe.” Angel finally managed to pull the gag from her mouth, “Man… You’re damn lucky you never got that tag removed, Nell!”

  Being glad about having her backside chipped was a first.

  With the gag gone Nell lurched forward onto her hands and knees and promptly vomited over both Rowe’s and Angel’s boots.

  “Unlike you, I won’t be requiring a receipt,” Rowe told Nell as he crouched down to gently wipe her mouth clean. “Gordon’s dead. I killed the fucker on the way in.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The betrothal reception had been marvellous.

  Dominic Danyeo and Rennick Stannick had found Kate at Port Luz, exactly where Nell had left her. The resulting celebrations had been lavish, if a little edgy, with everyone all too aware of the implications of such a public alliance of people from ostensibly opposing sides of the Rim boundary.

  Nell felt absolutely no need to tell anyone of her own good fortune, although she had caught Danyeo’s wink. Standing as he was, between Stannick and her sister Kate, Nell hoped the head of the Danyeo Collective knew how to keep his mouth shut. If the word got out about her and her current relationships, the resulting fallout would be huge. It would be far bigger than the scandal surrounding her sister had ever been. The fact was that, as a member of the Galaxy Elite Fleet, she would never be allowed to fraternise with a potential enemy, and Rim Lord Rowe was just that. With more wealth at his disposal, more firepower than even the richest worlds in the IGW could manage combined, he would always be seen as a very real and potential threat. Nell would be identified by Talbot and those like him as a vulnerability, a liability, something that needed to be either neutralised or disposed of if the Fleet was to be kept safe. It would be her turn to be either neutralised or displaced. Not a comfortable thought and one that added an element of danger that made Nell feel as if she were walking on the edge of something perilous. But she told herself it would all be fine, once she had worked Rowe and Angel out of her system, purged the attraction that seemed to sing through her blood every time she saw them. She would return to her work for the Galaxy Elite Fleet, older, wiser and rather more experienced than she had been before.

  Nell had no doubt that Rowe and Angel felt absolutely the same.

  They seemed to be enjoying exhausting the attraction between the three of them as much as she was.

  It wasn’t as if it was actually anything more, was it?

  * * * *


  “Rowe? Angel?” She was never first to arrive at whatever rendezvous they had meticulously selected. They always seemed to be able to get there before she did.

  They crept up on her silently from behind.

  Nell gave a surprised laugh and backed up as her lovers advanced on her purposefully, until her legs hit the bed and she toppled over backwards.

  “On your belly, lean over the bed, Nell.” Rowe crawled over her as she scrambled to turn over, taken aback at his sudden metamorphosis into a hungry predator. “I do believe I beat you fair and square in a challenge match. I would like to remind you that I do have certain rights…”

  Nell shivered with anticipation and nodded her head. Angel was meanwhile stripping her of her clothes, smiling at her reflection as she watched him in a huge mirror on the wall opposite the bed.

  “Ours,” he whispered in her ear as he fastened the thinnest shimmering, silver band around her neck, the fragile circlet trembling with the vivid blue and indigo gems of rarest rimzanite. Precious gemstones found only at the very edge of habitable space.

  “It’s beautiful…” she whispered, before adding wryly, “and maybe a little less obvious than my old one. I can’t really accept this, the value—”

  Angel stopped as she spoke and said, “Is irrelevant, Nell. Please…accept it. From us both.” He kissed her soundly whilst Rowe brushed her hair from her eyes. “Nell, say now if you don’t want to do this.” Rowe looked behind him as Angel moved round. “Angel?”

  “I want this,” Nell told him clearly as Angel removed the last of his own clothes to reveal his lean, beautifully muscular body.

  At the sight of bare, masculine flesh, Nell could feel the slow burn of desire start to lick its way up from between her legs.

  Angel climbed onto the bed beside Nell as Rowe turned back and grasped her buttocks, pulling them apart so he could touch her. His long, strong fingers kept delving and probing her hole as she went hot and cold with need. It was a confusing desire that pulled at the pit of her stomach.