Jindigar nodded, then crawled onto the bed next to one wall, cuddling the piol in his lap. “Arlai’s smart enough to see that as soon as he discovered the Rashions.”
Krinata said glumly, “To me, this looks like one of Arlai’s spectacular failures. I’d rather spend the rest of my life in that prison than in Zinzik’s grasp.”
“We’re in Arlai’s environment now,” answered Jindigar. He stroked Rita, and then turned to Krinata with a start. “I never really apologized to you for not reprogramming that bus. It was a good idea, Krinata. It might have worked.”
“Leaving us in the middle of a desert.”
“We might have been able to reprogram without setting off all the alarms. And the spaceport… I don’t know. We could have improvised something.”
“Look. I think I understand why you had to do what you did. We may yet make it, now that you’re back with us.”
He hugged Rita, then handed her to Krinata. “Can you sit down a moment? I want to move this cot.”
Awkwardly in the packed room, he unfastened his cot, moved it closer to the bars, and climbed back onto it. “You all may as well try to get some sleep. I’ll watch for Desdinda. Nothing will happen before she gets back.”
Krinata was sure she couldn’t sleep with the lights on. She sat staring at Jindigar and Frey who gazed fixedly up the shaftway. At intervals, Jindigar pointed to the overhead spy eyes, indicating they were active. After a while, Frey motioned to them first, apparently having learned how to detect observation. She watched them, noting very little difference in the way he treated Frey and the way he treated her, except he didn’t teach her anything but piloting.
Since they’d entered the cell, Jindigar had behaved toward her like his old self. Was she really doing him irreparable harm by responding? It had been his choice, after all. And she couldn’t find it in her not to respond. Even though their situation now was far worse than before, she suddenly found her energy and optimism returning. But was it selfish to cling to him because it made her feel good? There was no way to resolve the dilemma, and so she fell asleep gnawing on it, the warm piol curled in her lap.
She dreamed she was prisoner on a transparent spaceship. All around her, messages flew on clouds of energy contained in pipes in the walls, and she could feel their pulse. She could hear the angry buzz of hostility, the languid ache of sickness, the coarse celebrations of troopers primed to blood lust and held in check by respect for a superior blood lust. But the situation was transparent in time, as well, and behind it lay many, many similar occasions. Dream turned to nightmare as setting after setting spun into the center of her consciousness and away, leaving her unsure which situation was current.
Smothering in the rising fear, she was jolted back to reality by the slap of marching feet and cries of protest. The cells were open and they were being paraded in the shaftway again. This time, they were taken to decent showers and given comfortable, well-fitting ship’s issue clothing. Then, two abreast, they were marched through miles of corridors.
Krinata had thought Truth a large ship. Timespike held the cubic of several city blocks, and Krinata was soon totally lost. Yet, she realized where they were going scant seconds before they arrived. The Emperor’s audience chamber.
The room was as huge as a hangar deck, but decorated in expensive fabrics, textured walls, and imperial crests. Four exotic bird sanctuaries filled the corners with color and a pleasant background sound. The floor appeared to be polished wood, though she knew that couldn’t be. Not in space. The throne on which the Emperor sat was a replica of the one in the palace. The imperial leptolizer stood ensconced over a disguised holostage, giving him direct access to his Empire.
This time, though, the room was not filled with the court delegations. A regiment of troops lined the walls in smart dress satins, but carrying real weapons. With a thrill of goose bumps, Krinata thought she recognized some of the troopers’ faces from her nightmare. But then she forgot that as she stifled a cry at the sight of Rashion trainers and their charges stationed about the throne.
Krinata and Jindigar were in the lead. She’d seen Desdinda join them, looking pale-toothed yet ambulatory, hanging back as far from Jindigar as she could.
Zinzik gestured negligently at Jindigar as they were brought up to the throne steps. “One more chance, my Prince.”
Jindigar remained standing. So did Krinata. But she heard a rustle behind her—some of them were kneeling. She didn’t want to know who.
Zinzik stood and walked down the steps to look Jindigar in the eye. “No?”
“No,” stated Jindigar mildly.
“I see. Well, we shall find your weakness. And when we do, we shall stage a public confession. You see, you’ve become some kind of a symbol of the Oliat system, the last remaining Oliat officer at large in the Allegiancy. The rumors magnify you out of all proportion. But I can use that. At your news conference, held just before your execution, you will reveal all the vile details of the Dushau plot that has brought the Allegiancy to these dire straits. Your loyal testimony will reunify the Allegiancy behind the rightful Emperor.”
So he is in trouble with the Kings!
“If I were going to die anyway, why would I lie?”
“Thousands of years old, yet innocent as a babe.” His expression hardened. “Because if you don’t do as I want, someone precious to you will be dismembered, by a predatory carnivore, right before your eyes. While if you do as I want, not only will they be spared, but I will have you transported to Dushaun, ‘alive and well. I even might send along all of your friends, alive and well. If I’m especially pleased, I could add wealth even a prince would appreciate.”
Because of the memories he now carried, Jindigar felt an obligation to survive even upon the deaths of others—as much against his nature as that went. He also needed to return to
Dushaun to be trained to unlock those memories, despite all his reasons for not wanting to return home.
“A prince,” answered Jindigar thoughtfully, “can not be bribed or blackmailed, especially not by an Emperor who has broken faith with him.” Krinata heard the unspoken finish to that, though Zinzik appeared oblivious. No matter how much he wants the bribe or fears the threat.
Krinata’s admiration leaped like a flame, while she recognized the pride motivating him. He was being asked to destroy the reputation of his species before civilizations yet to be born in the galaxy, as well as the integrity of the Oliat. There was probably some Aliom principle stiffening his spine, but his pride in his adherence to his ethical, moral, and legal codes shone forth.
On the other hand, she knew the tattered shambles of his nerves left by his experiences of the last few months. Zinzik had designed bribe and threat to tear Jindigar apart along the very axis already unendurably stressed: loyalty to his people versus loyalty to his friends. Not for the first time, she regretted her friendship with Jindigar which, as Rinperee had predicted, might do him more harm than good, though in a totally unexpected way.
How much could he take before he broke? Would he watch a Rashion tear her throat out, and still hold to his principles? Despite what Rinperee had said, she didn’t think he cared more for her than for his principles. But if he broke, would he die of insanity, unable to cooperate with Zinzik’s demands, thus losing any chance of saving the Archive? Or would he stage the confession and be sent home, thus saving the Archive so his feeling for her could be said to force him to do what Grisnilter and Rinperee wanted him to? It was a decision only Jindigar could make, and Krinata wasn’t kidding herself. His values were not human.
All of this flashed through Krinata’s mind as Zinzik circled Jindigar, as if able to see right through his calm facade. Then, grinning confidently, Zinzik snapped his fingers. “Richter!”
One of the Rashion trainers trotted over with his charge. A woman came with him: Lehiroh, tall, slender, dark, and hard-eyed with a cruel twist to her lips. Krinata told herself not to interpret other species by her human biases. But she didn’
t believe it this time.
She was right. As the Emperor stepped back to perch sideways on his throne, as if about to enjoy a good show, the woman pulled out a screenboard, propped it against her waist with one hand while she punched up data with the other.
“Ready, Richter?” asked the woman.
“The beast is ready. He’s one of the prize—”
“Enough! All right, Jindigar. Which of these companions means the most to you?”
Jindigar’s stared fixedly as if he didn’t hear.
“We’ll kill them all, one by one until we get a rise—”
The Rashion whimpered and tugged at his leash. The trainer went with him, first to one then another of the Truth’s complement. The protosentient seemed confused and frustrated as he came to Krinata, whuffled at her feet, then started around again.
“This is getting nowhere,” declared the trainer. “He seems to regard them all equally.”
“Nonsense. Start with—” The Lehiroh woman spun about looking at the motley bunch, and chose Bell. “—that one. Strip her. Bring her around front here so everyone can see.”
Bell’s guards shoved her up front and removed her clothing. Jindigar watched in that unembarrassed way he had that made it seem she was still properly clothed even when she fought exposing her vestigial mammary glands. “Now,” said the Lehiroh woman, who obviously held the same contempt for Ensyvians as the Emperor did, “is there a Lehiroh guard who’d like a little fun with an Ensyvian bride?”
Every Lehiroh male guard in the room stepped eagerly forward. “You!” she chose one. The male came forward, leering. As if on a mutually arranged signal, all four of Bell’s mates lunged forward ripping themselves loose of their guards and charging the volunteer tormenter. As they rolled on the floor, guards converging from all sides to put a stop to it, the Rashion made confused noises deep in his throat.
Despite the fact that a Rashion had attacked her with what seemed intent to kill, Krinata wanted to gather the poor creature up in her arms and soothe its pathetic cries. She wondered if the training methods were so brutal that the dimwitted creature was terrified of failing a command.
At last, peace was restored. The woman consulted the trainer and sent Bell away, pulling Krinata out in front.
Suddenly, Krinata wondered if that screenboard contained an account of Jindigar’s defenses of her. If Nodrial were as thorough as a Duke should be, and if he were actively cooperating with Zinzik now, those two incidents, at the wedding and in the stripsearch barn, were surely on record.
Jerking her off balance, the guards positioned her and methodically removed her clothing. Zinzik held up a hand. “Stop. Let me admire this.” He rose and sauntered down the steps, circling Krinata, eyes drinking in every detail of her human anatomy. He poked her belly, pinching the sparse roll of fat there, feeling the hard muscles tensed against him. He ignored her tiny breasts, for they did not spell female to him. Other Lehiroh would consider him a pervert if they interested nun. He ran his soft hands across her back as if she were a pedigreed animal for sale. He noticed the scars Arlai hadn’t had time to remove from her upper arms.
“Not bad,” he declared. “She seems to have survived a remarkable number of adventures relatively unscathed. Surely there’s a human present who’d like to play with her?”
There were a great number of them, but Zinzik chose a very, very large human male, asking, “Don’t you think she might be too small for you?”
“Humans like it that way, Excellency.”
“She might not.”
“Does that matter?”
“Of course not. She’s yours.”
All during this, Zinzik was balanced on his toes, ready to dance out of the way if Jindigar should somehow get loose of the four guards now on him and charge forward. Jindigar was staring devoutly at the artwork decorating the ceiling.
The immense human handed his weapon aside, and began to shed his light armor. Jindigar still refused to acknowledge what was happening. Zinzik approached the Dushau warily. “I’m not going to stop him, you know.”
The Rashion still fretted confusedly at Jindigar’s feet. Did the Dushau have such mental control that he was emitting nothing the Rashion could read? If so, Krinata hoped he could keep it up. She hoped he didn’t care a bit for her because if she were the cause of his mental breakdown and death, she couldn’t live with herself. Then she saw Trassle and his wife trying to protect their offspring from the sight. What am I going to do?
She looked at the hulk now stripping in a businesslike way. He was already showing signs of enthusiasm. She had to do something, and soon. Though they had the upper hand, she’d begun to develop a genuine contempt for Zinzik and all those he’d brought to power. If it would get Jindigar home and save his Archive and his sanity, she’d gladly endure worse than this, or even die. He was worth all she had and more. Zinzik and what was left of the Allegiancy weren’t worth the cost of destroying. But what can I do to help Jindigar? It was the first time in her life she’d been a totally helpless victim, too scared to think.
She caught a glimpse of Zinzik watching her. Disgust welling, she squeezed her eyes shut until she saw red. Oh, Jindigar, what am I going to do?
Suddenly, eyes still closed, she saw Zinzik reflected in a decoration on the ceiling, and simultaneously, she saw him directly. She had read descriptions of Lehiroh male excitation but had never seen it. Now, she recognized it with the total familiarity of an Emulator’s identity with the species. With a shudder, she recognized his attitude as characteristic of a practice she considered a perversion.
Trying to shake the fantasy while cursing her imagination, Krinata forced her eyes open and looked at the Emperor. The strange split perception remained overlaid above what she could see. Her own eyes brought her no suggestion of what her imagination told her. Those odd echo visions shifted, as Zinzik turned to the Lehiroh woman who had set this up. From his glance, she imagined Zinzik often had the woman set up such tantalizing sights for him.
Unable to tolerate the vision, she eyed the hulk again. He was watching the Emperor familiarly. He’d done this before, and was awaiting a signal. She had no doubt the Emperor’s contrived shows usually went to conclusion.
Even with her eyes focused on the brute, she was aware of Zinzik teasing his Lehiroh female. And she perceived the Emperor’s wakening pleasure from the other’s pain. She began to understand Zinzik, and thus what must come next. Her part was to be terrified and be brutally overpowered. That would hurt Jindigar, who would also be aware of the pleasure Zinzik took in her pain—as if Zinzik himself were raping her.
Instantly, she knew what she had to do.
But she couldn’t. She twisted to glimpse Jindigar. He was still staring at the ceiling, at Zinzik’s image? Frey had crept up beside him, his eyes fixed on the throne. As her gaze lit on Jindigar, he turned midnight eyes on her. They widened a bit; the vaguest hint of a shocked recoil struck her. Abruptly, the overlaid awareness snapped off.
The sudden emptiness almost took the starch out of her knees. Alone in that echoing void, slammed into the stark reality of what was about to happen to her, she caught her breath, and faced what she fervently hoped was the ultimate test of her life. Did she have the nerve? For Jindigar? Yes. Of course I can do it. I have to. I’m alone in this. Jindigar can’t help me. He can barely help himself.
On Zinzik’s cue, the brute began his assault, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back to tilt her face to his. Everything in her said, Bite his lips! And she almost did, but then swallowing her gorge, she summoned a smile she hoped was seductive, and forced her body to melt into his grasp,
It had been a long time since she’d had a man, and while her mind squirmed and screamed, her treacherous body noticed how awfully good masculinity could feel, how enervating it could be to the will. His clean, brown skin was soft, tufted with sharp curly hairs. A clean man-scent engulfed her. But suddenly, as if recalling where he was, he tightened his grip painfully. “The Emperor wa
nts you to resist, woman. Put up some fight!” He shoved her away and hit her across the face.
She went sprawling, stifling a yelp, gathering all her courage and refusing to scramble away and run for it. The deck was hard and chill, but she gathered herself into a seductive pose, noting with horror that hitting her had roused him more. She smiled. “I see you’re ready. Come on and tumble.” Can I go through with this?
The brute stalked after her, readier than ever. Any symptom of arousal she had felt was washed away in sheer terror. Gritting her teeth behind her smile, she raised one hand to fondle him intimately, trying to seem admiring and welcoming while she’d rather emasculate him.
In the moment she knew she couldn’t go through with it, in the moment she faced her crumbling courage and knew she could not stifle her scream if the man grabbed her arm to pull her to her feet, Zinzik cried, “Enough!”
The brute looked up, wounded. He was throbbingly ready to do his Emperor’s bidding. Bewildered, he asked, “No?”
“Later,” commanded the Emperor. “You may leave now. Sign out for the rest of this watch.”
Naked, he stood to attention, bowed formally, and said, “Yes, your Excellency.” He gathered his clothes and left.
Krinata told herself she must not collapse now or she’d lose her tiny victory. Her role called for her to stand up, legs braced, hands on hips, chin up and challenge any other man in the room to a tumble. But she stayed on the floor, trying not to make it so obvious that her legs were curled to hide her nakedness.
“I’ve a much more interesting idea,” said Zinzik with the air of one about to pull off a final coup. “That one! The female on the end!”
Two guards brought Desdinda forth. She struggled, still weak from the stunner, but the guards dragged her out and threw her onto the deck beside Krinata. She went skidding.
“Surely,” said the Emperor, “there’s someone here who’s had a yen to try a Dushau female?”
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