What was there? What made Braden who he was, unique from other Shareem?
Elisa slid out of bed quietly so she wouldn’t wake him, left the room, and made her way to her small office.
She keyed up her terminal and used her library codes to override various blocks around the information she wanted. She pulled up everything on Shareem and filtered out various things until she had a string of information on the Shareem called Braden.
He was a level three. Born in incubator number 73. Accelerated growth had given him an adult body in only thirteen years, the next five honed it to what it looked like now. Growth over the next ten years had slowed almost to a halt.
Physical exercise regimens, satisfactory. Sexual performance, excellent. Obedience to authority, highly unsatisfactory.
That Braden hated doing what he was told came as no surprise to Elisa.
She read on. He resists taking the inoculations to the point that shock rods are necessary. More than once, he’s had to be subdued with severe shocking before he would take the needle. No permanent damage was done to his nervous system.
Goddess help him. They’d beaten and shocked Braden to get him to hold out his arm for shots, and then they worried only that they’d caused permanent damage to his nervous system. Permanent damage, meaning they’d caused some temporary.
Test of drug 73098P for enhanced sexual drive—Satisfactory. Subject Braden stayed hard for five hours, and repeated ejaculations did not reduce the readiness of the penis.
Test of drug 289E for obedience—Not satisfactory. Drug seemed to enhance unruliness. Subject attacked tester and had to be rendered unconscious with shock rods. Drug 8923B given to suppress violence. Recommend daily doses.
Test of level-three skills—Satisfactory. Subject is aroused by restraining the volunteer and giving her commands. When given the choice of devices, subject preferred nipple clamps, collar, chain, whip, and manacles. Subject prefers to perform intercourse on female when female is in the facedown position.
So clinical they made it. Braden had emphasized that it was all about trust—trust that he would never hurt Elisa, no matter what position he put her in, no matter what he asked her to do. The researchers took that beautiful trust and turned it into notes on a chart.
Many more observations of what Braden liked to do with the volunteers followed, screens and screens of it. Then a different kind of entry caught her eye.
Subject Braden confined to quarters, in isolation, until further notice. Recommend termination.
Elisa’s heart squeezed, even though she knew that the termination order obviously hadn’t been carried out. Braden was alive, happily free, and sleeping in her bed.
An appended note said, Subject Braden used whip to strike male lab tech and punched same lab tech in the jaw. Lab tech’s wounds were tended and lab tech released from further duties for the week. When questioned, subject Braden responded with harsh and abusive language.
Elisa wondered what on earth had made Braden attack a lab tech. Another objection to shots?
She felt him behind her, his warmth folding over her. He leaned down and kissed her ear.
“Reading about those happy old days at DNAmo?”
Elisa nodded at the screen. “Why did you hit him?”
“Who? Oh, the lab tech. Because he tried to rape a guinea pig.”
She jerked around. “I beg your pardon?”
Braden’s grin was as warm as ever, but his eyes held old rage. “Guinea pig is what we called a woman who signed up at DNAmo to do sexual tests with Shareem. The lab tech decided that the guinea pig in question was a whore and tried to force her. I told him to shove his dick up his own ass, and he came at me with a shock rod. So I beat on him a little.”
Good for you. “I thought Shareem weren’t supposed to be violent. That it was bred out of you.”
“I make an exception for assholes.”
Elisa caressed his strong wrist. “So, Shareem are chivalrous.”
“Yeah, well, my chivalry got her fired and me beaten and locked in a room. Then they debated terminating me.”
“I cannot believe they were going to kill you for helping her.”
“They had to, because of the whole Shareem are not violent myth. I never did learn to behave myself.”
“And you don’t like shots.”
Braden grimaced. “Hey, you get twenty little needles shoved into your arm and see how you like it.”
She smiled. “Aw, big, bad level three.”
Braden nibbled her earlobe. “The big, bad level three who made you beg for mercy not an hour ago.”
Elisa shivered at the memory. “Are you always level three?” she asked. “Do you sometimes just . . . fuck?”
He smiled as she remembered to use the words he told her to. “Sure. But you hired me for level three.”
Elisa touched his chest. “Pretend that I didn’t hire you.”
Braden lost his smile. He watched her for a long time with eyes that were dark blue and still. “No, sweetheart. That’s too dangerous.”
“Why? Is that a Shareem rule?” she asked, her light tone forced.
No, Braden thought. Because I might like it. “We do what you asked me here to do. Nothing more.”
Elisa looked disappointed. Damn her, why did she have to look disappointed?
Braden caught the chain on her collar and repositioned her over the chair, ass up. He gathered the silk robe she’d thrown on for warmth and lifted it over her back, then he lined up behind her.
He didn’t even need the lube to slide straight into her pussy. She made soft noises as Braden stroked all the way in, her voice muffled against the chair. Then Braden slid out and back in. Again. And again.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he said brokenly.
Braden pumped harder, leaning to lick her, sliding hands around to catch her swaying breasts.
“This is what I want to do behind your library desk. I’ll have you screaming out loud. You wouldn’t be hushing me then. Aw, damn it.”
Braden cried her name, finesse gone, and slammed his cock all the way into her, groaning as she squeezed him.
They fell together, laughing and coming. Braden wrapped himself around Elisa and gathered her against him as they landed breathlessly on the soft carpet.
He never wanted to let her go, and knowing he had to broke something inside him.
*** *** ***
Braden departed in the dim light of dawn. It was going to be another clear day on Bor Narga, which meant early doses of sun and heat, followed by an afternoon of heat and more heat. Braden pulled on his sun-blocking robes and headed through the back alleys for the train station.
He’d left Elisa snuggled up alone in her bed. She was so pretty with her head on her pillow, her lovely hair loose across the sheets. Braden had resisted kissing her cheek before going. If he’d woken her, she’d have asked him to stay, and he wouldn’t have been able to refuse.
Braden needed to refuse. This had gone beyond dangerous.
Catching her reading about him in the database had done funny things to his heart. On the one hand, what had he to be ashamed of? The assholes at DNAmo had pretty much tortured him on a daily basis. He’d resisted as much as he could, put one over on them as many times as he could, fought back.
He’d nearly got himself terminated for his pains. The only reason they hadn’t killed off Braden was because the head scientists thought him a good test subject for new and experimental subduing drugs.
Aiden, for one, had always tried to get Braden to give up and go along with it. Just pretend, damn you. You like getting beaten with shock rods? Act like you obey and they’ll leave you alone.
But Braden couldn’t let it go. Something in him had resisted with all its might—maybe it was his level-three programming, he didn’t know. Aiden was level one, always looking for ways to soothe and keep the peace.
Aiden had probably been right—an obedient Shareem got decent food and a cushier cubicle. Braden pretty much
slept on a hard slab in a cold room and ate crap.
Braden had always admired Rees, who’d been the biggest bastard of the bunch. Rees had futzed computers, trapped researchers, turned the tables on experiments, and more or less told the scientists what they could do with themselves. Everyone at DNAmo had been terrified of Rees, except the other Shareem. The Shareem—the few who knew about him—had cheered him on.
And then Rees had escaped, good for him, which had brought the whole edifice of DNAmo crashing down.
That meant Shareem fleeing for their lives and hiding out in squalid holes until the termination order was reversed by some kind-minded ladies of the ruling council.
Well, kind was stretching it. The rulers had been put under pressure by governments of worlds they traded with, especially Ariel, which was pretty powerful.
The Bor Nargan ruling council decided they’d look benevolent if they let the poor Shareem live. What sweethearts. They’d do anything to keep Bor Narga from losing money.
Rees, unpredictable and unstable, had popped back up under the radar and quietly lived his life. He’d done his best to help other Shareem, and then he’d met Talan and discovered the true meaning of happiness.
Speaking of Rees, Braden had a message from him when he arrived home that morning, telling Braden to meet with Rees at Judith’s bar.
But when Braden reached Judith’s, Rees was nowhere in sight. Aiden leaned on the bar, idly conversing with Mitch, while Judith herself was backed into a corner talking loudly to three patrollers.
This couldn’t be good.
Braden was about to depart quietly and return home, but Aiden motioned him to come on inside. The patrollers had seen him anyway.
Braden put his elbow on the bar next to Aiden, who didn’t say a word. Mitch gave Braden a look and abruptly walked away.
“What’s with him?” Braden asked.
“New rules. Non-Shareem can’t talk to more than one Shareem at a time.”
Braden stared at him. “What new rules?”
“New rules that came down this morning. Brianne shot out of the house, hightailing it to the hill to yell at her grandmother. In person. Means Brianne is seriously pissed off.” Aiden’s mouth softened, Shareem chemicals kicking in to downplay his anger. “Sweet baby.”
“Why the hell are there new rules?” Gods, if they’d figured out what Rees had been up to . . .
To his surprise, Aiden grinned. “Seems that two Shareem were seen yesterday morning on the Vistara. People reported it, not happy that Shareem had been allowed on their precious streets. Another Shareem has been reported coming and going to some unknown destination in the Serestine Quarter.” Aiden leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Damn it, Braden, you really need to learn to be more sneaky.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Shareem.”
One of the patrollers had left Judith and now came striding over to Braden. She was older than most of the street patrollers, her air of authority like a whiplash. A sergeant, Braden thought. Maybe even a lieutenant.
She stopped in front of Braden and fixed him with a sharp stare. “Ident card.”
Braden made a show of straightening from his slouch against the bar and rummaging in his robes. He pulled various things from his pockets—a box of ice candy, a coiled-up piece of leather, his breath mask, a small handheld.
He piled these onto the bar, one after the other, and finally pulled out the strip of plastic that was his ident card. The patrol sergeant watched the procedure with a cold eye, never changing expression.
“Funny how I can never find it when I need it,” Braden said.
The patroller snatched the ident card from Braden’s fingers and slammed it into her handheld. She studied the readout. “You’re one of the ones seen on the Vistara. Why did you go up there?”
Braden shrugged. “Can’t get good peaches down here.”
“Who was the Shareem you were with?”
They would already know, would have crosschecked records. She was trying to get Braden to lie.
“His name’s Justin,” Braden said. “Recently returned from Sirius III. He’s staying at my place.”
“You know the new rules?”
“Nope. Slept through them. Thank the gods.”
The patroller gave him a severe look. “A human may speak to only one Shareem at a time. No more than two Shareem can be in one place at a time. That means that you and your Shareem roommate don’t get to invite any Shareem guests to your flat.”
“Damn, there goes my cocktail party at the end of the week.”
The patroller didn’t look amused. “Disobedience means termination to the Shareem who violates any rules.”
Braden hid his rage under a mask of supreme indifference. You and your fucking rules can bite me. “Right.”
The patroller studied the handheld again. “Says here your inoculations are coming due in a few days. Why haven’t you gotten them yet?”
That again. Braden tapped the line on the handheld. “Because I still have a few days. I’ll go to a medic on my due date. I always get there on time.” As much as Braden hated the shots, the thought of termination didn’t thrill him either.
“You’ll go today,” the patroller said. “Now, in fact.”
“I’m busy today.”
The patroller pulled out her stun weapon. Stun guns didn’t do permanent damage, but they hurt like hell and gave their victims a serious hangover.
“We’ll go together,” the patroller said.
Braden gave her a look of mock surprise. “What, you aren’t afraid to be alone with me?”
She gestured with the stun gun. “Move.”
Aiden was facing the bar, leaning on it, pretending not to listen, but Braden sensed his waves of fury. Aiden, the level-one Shareem who went through life with a smile, was enraged.
Braden was too, but he was more used to anger than Aiden was. Braden had lived his entire life angry, from the moment he’d understood, at age five, what he was and why he’d been made. He loved women and liked his friends, but Braden knew that his own life wasn’t his. Never would be.
Without a word to Aiden and Judith, he let the patroller direct him out the door.
The nearest medic, fortunately, was Katarina d’Arnal. Months ago, she’d left her cushy house in the Serestine Quarter to move to Pas City and minister to the downtrodden. The downtrodden included Shareem.
Most Shareem now went to Katarina for their six-month even if they had to travel from the edges of the city to do it, because they liked and trusted her. Even Calder hovering over her like a worried giant didn’t keep them away.
Braden sauntered into the clinic, leaned on the front counter and smiled at the young woman behind it. She, used to Shareem by now, simply made a note on her terminal and called Katarina.
Katarina, bless her, wouldn’t let the patroller follow Braden into the back. The patroller looked irritated but didn’t argue. Katarina was a highborn woman, even if she’d blackened her reputation by living with a Shareem. Highborn was highborn. The patroller could arrest Braden on any pretext, but if she wanted to keep her job and make it to her next promotion, she’d obey Katarina.
Calder was nowhere in sight when Braden ducked into the exam room. Braden hated exam rooms, which were filled with machines and beeping things, clinical steel and gray walls.
Katarina tried to keep the place cheerful with bright-colored curtains and by wearing a pretty tunic. She was a lovely sight as usual, but she couldn’t quite cure Braden’s misgivings about inoculations. At DNAmo, he was never sure exactly what would be in the shots, and he’d wake either to excruciating pain or in some bizarre situation every time.
Katarina closed the door. Calder came out of hiding, quietly emerging from a dressing room in his customary black leather tunic and leggings.
A few scars remained on his rebuilt face, but they gave him character, in contrast to the smooth perfection of Aiden’s face. Aiden could look beautiful and vacant, like a model for t
he perfect Shareem—until he opened his mouth. Then his smart-ass attitude poured out, ruining the picture of the flawless sex god. Calder would never be mistaken for anything less than someone you didn’t want to mess with.
“Hey, rules is rules,” Braden tried to joke. “One human, one Shareem. That means she’s mine this morning, Calder.”
Calder didn’t bother answering. He planted his ass on the edge of a table and folded his arms.
Katarina slanted Calder a warm smile, loving his highhanded protectiveness. “It will make a threesome a bit tricky.”
“That’s why Brianne is already up on the hill arguing with her granny,” Braden said. “She can’t be with both Aiden and Ky under these new conditions. She’d have to trade off, and how would they decide who went first? Draw straws? Roll dice? Damn, I’d love to see that fight.”
Braden spoke rapidly, his heart rate off the charts, his body heating with nervousness. Katarina smiled at his attempted humor as she lined up her instruments.
Instruments. Gods, Braden hated instruments.
“If you’ll just disrobe,” she said.
Usually Braden would turn this into a game, refusing to use the dressing room and shocking her by dropping his clothes all at once. Maybe wriggling his butt at her to make her laugh.
Today he tossed his outer robes onto a hook and silently stripped off his tunic. He felt the glance Katarina and Calder exchanged behind him.
“You all right, Braden?” Katarina asked.
Braden turned around. He was mother naked, but Katarina regarded him calmly, used to him. Braden had joined Katarina and Calder for a little play more than once. Besides, after Calder, Braden didn’t have much that could surprise Katarina. She, out of all the Bor Nargan women Braden had met, had no fear of naked flesh.
“Katarina,” Braden asked in a low voice, “what would happen if you left out the contraceptives?”
Katarina looked up from adjusting a scanner. “Left them out?”
“You know, gave me all the disease-killing drugs but not the sterility things.”
“I know what you mean, Braden. I’m just wondering why you’re asking.”
Tales of the Shareem, Volume 2 Page 28
