Madeline advanced a few more steps and bent her head down so that her helmet lamps shone full on the shape.
It was an acceleration couch, fitted out with some sort of life support system that swaddled its half-reclined occupant in nutrient gel.
“Is he alive?” Doc’s voice, breathy on the com, almost squeaked with tension. The other crewmen seemed just as interested. The four of them crowded into the room, but clustered together into a tight clump near the entrance to the corridor.
The life pod’s only passenger was obviously male. Except for the life support mask that covered most of his face, he was as naked as the day he had been born, and just as helpless. Every limb and his head, too, had been immobilized by restraints. Madeline walked slowly around him so that she could see him better.
His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell with regularity. The life support mask obscured the lines of his face, but through the transparent cover, Madeline could see that he looked exhausted. Deep shadows ringed his eyes, and the color had drained from his face. His skin was light enough that the mottled green and yellow bruises on his chest looked startling. A long, half-healed scrape ran up one side of his torso.
“Why would anyone leave someone like this?” she wondered out loud.
Doc stepped forward and bent over the stranger. “He looks drugged or something.” He glanced over his shoulder at Buchanan. “Can I open my helmet?”
The senior tech checked a control on his wrist and nodded. “Should be okay now.”
Doc unlocked his face plate and it flipped backwards over his head. Madeline followed suit. She sniffed. The air in the pod felt dead, no matter what Buchanan said. It wasn’t so much the faint metallic odor, but rather the cold, dampness of it against her skin that repelled her.
None of the other three had followed Doc’s example. They all stood and watched from behind their face plates as their friend bent over the imprisoned stranger.
Just as Doc reached out a hand to touch the man, an abrupt click made the Bee’s medic jump in surprise. A motorized arm slid smoothly along on a track, then stopped after a few centimeters. It held a hypospray directly over the imprisoned man’s head. Another click sounded and the hypo moved downward, pressed against the man’s neck, and discharged with a faint hiss.
Just as the stranger groaned and opened his eyes, the cabin lights came on, illuminating the scene abruptly. The man stared at the crew of the Bee, blinking as if their presence confused him. He didn’t look at them for long, however. After a few seconds, his eyes moved to stare directly at the space in front of Madeline.
A console bolted to the deck in front of him hummed to life, and then a holographic image suddenly took shape, overlapping the space where Madeline stood. She stepped back hastily so that her body didn’t interfere with the image, and watched it curiously.
The three dimensional image had none of the flicker or dimness associated with less expensive projectors. The sound aligned perfectly; the observer saw and heard what had been recorded just as it had happened.
The image depicted a crowd of women in expensive-looking, colorful gowns. Several men in black uniforms pushed them back as if to make room for something. The women didn’t seem afraid of the men, but they were very quiet. Madeline noticed something distinctive about the soldiers.
“Hey,” Lineaus said. “What do all those guys have on their faces?”
“It’s the Emperor’s seal,” Madeline said. “Those soldiers are the Emperor’s Own Corps of Guards. They each get a holographic tattoo of his seal.”
Lineaus started to ask another question, but Doc shushed him. In the hologram, the soldiers dragged a woman into the open space.
She was a pretty woman, even with her face contorted with fear. She wore a modest dark gown, but the two men on either side of her ripped her clothes off in seconds. She pleaded with them to let her go, as they forced her down on her back on a low, couch-like bed, and shackled her hands and feet.
Another man moved forward and shook out a whip. The crowd of women watched, silent and unmoving as the man beat the prostrate woman, lashing her again and again. The lash left no mark, but each time it touched her, she cried out in agony.
The woman wept piteously and sobbed for mercy, but no one moved or spoke. Finally, the man curled up his lash and stepped back. Almost immediately, the line of women observers shifted. They all moved back a few paces, as if something fearsome approached.
Madeline drew in a breath as she saw the creature. Human-looking in a general way, it towered over the guards who led it—and the Emperor’s Own were all tall men, Madeline knew—dwarfing them with the breadth of its shoulders and its huge, muscular arms.
As the crowd moved back, Madeline could see the creature better.
He, not it. His nakedness made his gender as obvious as his sexual arousal. When the guards prodded him with nerve stimulators, the creature’s eyes roamed restlessly up and down the line of women. He seemed reluctant to move as he was directed.
“Madre de Dios!” Mahler said. “What in the name of all the saints is that?”
“I think he’s a construct,” Madeline said, her eyes still on the holograph. “I heard the Emperor’s scientists tried tinkering with human DNA to make a better soldier. When they went for big and strong, they also got stupid and crazy.”
The holographic cameras suddenly shifted to a different angle and pulled back, so that the display came from behind the bound woman. Madeline could see that a pair of observers had been watching the proceedings from a raised platform. The gray-haired man seated in a comfortable chair wore an elaborate suit of gold cloth. Beside him, an exquisitely gowned woman with black hair and aristocratic features sat very straight in her chair. She managed to look both regal and bored at the same time.
At the sight of this imposing pair, each of the Queen Bee’s crew drew in a breath at once, except for Kerry Lineaus.
“The Emperor!” Mahler said out loud.
“Yeah,” Madeline said. She had never seen any image of the Emperor of Gaulle except for official palace releases. “I’ve heard the man has peculiar tastes in amusements. That must be the Empress next to him.”
Emperor Lothar Edward Antonio du Plessis leaned forward in his chair and handed one of his soldiers a small container. The man took it and moved to the bound woman’s side.
“Now, Celia,” the Emperor said, his tone as pleasant as if he were inviting her to tea, “you weren’t content with the honor I paid to you; you wanted another lover. You’re about to get one.”
He nodded, and the soldier laid the container between the woman’s breasts and depressed a switch.
There was no visible effect on her, but the construct suddenly swiveled his head to stare at her and pulled away from his keepers. They let him go, and the creature lunged for the bound woman.
She screamed, but no one moved to help her. With a triumphant cry, the construct fell on top of her, his brutish face contorted into a rudimentary smile. When the woman screamed again, Madeline had had enough.
Aiming for the center of the console, she pressed the firing switch on her laser pistol. A circle of hair-thin beams of light struck the box. In a few seconds, a loud crackle sounded. Smoke billowed out in an amorphous cloud that quickly dissipated into a fine gray fog.
After several loud pops, the image vanished. The acrid smell of burned electronics overwhelmed the small space. The smoke began to dissipate, the whir of the air filters increasing to a noticeable hum as they coped with the smoke. Madeline wasn’t certain, but she thought she heard a tiny sigh from the captive stranger.
“That’s it,” she said firmly, choking back a cough. “We’ve had enough sick holoflicks for today. Buchanan, you and Mahler go rig up something to seal that outside hatch. When you get that done, take the shuttle back to the Bee and bring over another suit. Doc, you check this guy out. Lineaus, you help him. See if the two of you can get him unhooked from this contraption so we can get him into a suit and on board the
Bee.”
“Sure thing, skipper.” Doc checked the restraints that held the man confined. “I can unlock him easy enough, but I’m not quite sure how to unhook him from the life support system.”
Madeline left him to figure it out, and bent over the remains of the holographic projector. The circle of holes in the side looked small and neat, but she suspected the insides might not be so tidy. She had been rash to destroy it. Aside from the machine’s value, the program itself might have been of use to her customers.
Behind her, Doc gasped. Madeline swiveled in alarm, swaying slightly as her magnetic boots held her feet to the deck. Both Doc and Lineaus stared at the unconscious figure on the couch. Doc still held the life support mask he had just removed.
“What is it?” Madeline demanded.
Doc pointed. On the stranger’s face, high up on the cheekbone beside his right eye, a thumbprint-sized swirl of gold lines glittered.
As Madeline studied it, it seemed to gleam and spin like a live thing. “Good god! He’s one of the Emperor’s Own.”
• • •
“What does that mean?” Madeline asked crossly. She had record-keeping to do, and no time for lengthy technical explanations.
Doc shuffled his feet and glanced around her cabin. “It means he could have continued to live for months like that. He’s bruised up, and he has some contusions, but otherwise he’s perfectly healthy. The machine was keeping him hydrated, even nourished to a certain level. He would have starved eventually, but it would have been very slow.”
“How long had he been out here?”
Doc shrugged, as if to deny expertise. “I don’t really know. It looked as if he hadn’t shaved for several days—say a week at the outside. The bruises and contusions are mostly healed, but they’re still there. Yeah, say a week.”
“Is he conscious?”
Doc grimaced as he shook his head. “I’m a little afraid to try to bring him around artificially. His vital signs are all stable, so I’d like to just let him wake up on his own.”
“How about the pod?”
“Buchanan says it’s secure in the hold. It’s in good shape, except for the hole we cut in the hatch.”
“Okay,” Madeline said. “Time to get out of here.” She flicked the com switch on her desk. “Thad?”
The astrogator’s face filled the screen immediately, but it took him several seconds to answer her. “Yeah, skipper?”
“Do you need to adjust our course to get us to Gaulle?”
His face looked blanker than usual. “No.”
Madeline switched the video to her pilot’s station. “Carmela?”
“Yeah, skipper?”
“Thad says we’re ready. Take us to Gaulle. How long until we get there?”
“We should dock at Space Station du Plessis in a little over three days.”
“Good. Get us started, then.”
Madeline cut the connection and turned back to Doc. “Go see that your patient is comfortable.”
“Sure thing, skipper.” He gave her a sideways glance. “I heard you asked Buchanan to fix the projector.”
She gave him a grim smile in return. “I did indeed. It’s a valuable piece of equipment. I was stupid to destroy it. If Buchanan can restore the program, I have customers who would pay a lot of money for it.”
Doc stared an open-mouthed stare. “I didn’t know you went in for that kind of merchandise, skipper.”
She glared at him, her heavy brows stitched together in a frown designed to make him sweat just a little. “Some of my customers are the Emperor’s enemies, Doc. You should know that by now.”
He swallowed. Like all the deserters on board, he had cause to be glad of her political views. “Of course. Uh, I’ll go now.”
She smiled to herself as he beat a hasty retreat to the sick bay.
• • •
Madeline was still in her cabin when she felt the shudder of the ship moving through normal space. She was tired. The run from the Rim worlds to this system had been long, and her customers, though grateful for her help, had been difficult to deal with. She needed some shore leave. She took off the blue coverall that served as her uniform and put it away, then slipped on her caftan. She sighed as she stretched out on her bunk and closed her eyes.
She was just drifting off into sleep when an image flashed into her mind. Madeline knew it was most likely engendered by having witnessed the discovery of the naked soldier, but still it disturbed her, especially as she recognized her astrogator’s face quite easily.
“Damn,” she muttered to herself. “It’s getting bad when you start dreaming about making love with half-wits, Maddy. Better do something about it before it gets any worse.”
She rolled over in her bunk and hit the com switch.
“Palestrino to Trudeau,” she said, staring at the tiny monitor on the console above her. “You there, Niels?”
In a few seconds her first mate’s face appeared. Behind him she could see Carmela de Vega’s black hair lying on the pillow. Madeline smiled to herself and wondered if she had interrupted them.
“Yeah, skipper?”
“I’m feeling a need to blow off a little steam. Who’s up next?”
Niels grinned happily. “Lineaus.”
Madeline lifted her brows. “Already?”
He held up one hand in an expansive gesture. “He went to the bottom of the list when he signed on, same as always. It’s been three months, Maddy. There’s only twenty-eight straight guys on this ship—minus two since I’ve declined to be on the list and you won’t let me even ask Thad. You’ve been going through ‘em at a good clip.”
“Is Lineaus on duty?” Madeline asked hopefully.
Niels shook his head.
Madeline sighed. “I just hope it’s not his first time.”
Niels gave her a wicked grin, but didn’t answer.
“Thanks,” Madeline said. “I’ll call him. You can mark him off this round.”
She broke the connection and placed a call to her newest crewman. In a few seconds, she was looking at Kerry Lineaus’ earnest young face.
“I’d like to see you for a few minutes, Lineaus,” Madeline said. “Come to my cabin, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sounded nervous. Madeline wondered whether he was edgy because he knew what was coming, or because he had botched something recently.
He was at her door in seconds, so Madeline assumed it was the former. No one was that eager to get called on the carpet.
“Come in, Lineaus,” she said cordially, pressing the door control on the wall near the bed.
He stepped into the cabin and all but stood at attention.
“Relax,” Madeline said, advancing a few steps toward him. Her cabin was hardly spacious, but it was much larger than the standard crewman’s double cubby. Lineaus stared at the pale blue walls and built-in storage units as if he had expected her personal space to be radically different from the rest of the ship, which it wasn’t. “This isn’t ship business,” Madeline said. “This is personal.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He let his shoulders relax, but his expression still looked anxious.
She smiled and looked him over overtly. “You know all about the list, don’t you, Kerry?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, you’re next up. How about it? It’s strictly voluntary, you know. No one on this ship is required to sleep with anyone else.”
He nodded once. “I know.”
“Good,” she said in a firm voice. “I want to be sure you understand that this won’t buy you anything with me. There’s no penalty if you say no, and there’s no benny if you say yes. I’ll still shove you out the nearest airlock if you screw up my ship.”
He cleared his throat. “I understand that, ma’am.”
Madeline moved back toward the bed. “I’m glad to hear it. Now that that’s out of the way, if you’re looking for a good time, so am I, and it’s your turn.”
“I’m—that is, I’d love to—I
mean, yes, ma’am. I am interested. Sure thing.”
She hit the door lock and turned to face him. “I think it’ll be easier on both of us if you call me Maddy for the rest of the evening.”
“Okay.” He still sounded edgy. “I mean, okay, Maddy.”
She advanced on him slowly and was reassured when he stood his ground and didn’t back up. She slipped her arms around him and reached up to pull his head down so that she could kiss him. His response was all that she could have asked for. A moment later, his arms around her, she stopped worrying entirely.
Chapter Two
Alexander Napier slept the sleep of exhaustion. His body twitched and tossed as he lay in the sick bay bunk, reliving his life, remembering recent events in painful detail. After a while, his mind reached backwards, trying to find a time when he hadn’t been beset by intolerable realities.
He dreamed that he had been dreaming. He wanted to be still asleep. He could hear his mother calling him, but he nestled down into the bedclothes and pretended he hadn’t heard.
“Alex!” Marcella Napier shouted. “Get up this minute, Alexander! It’s a school day.”
School? Yes, he was thirteen and he had to go to school. The smell of eggs frying made him suddenly sit up. Ever since his last birthday, his father had begun to limit how much he allowed Alexander to eat, fearing that his son would match him in size and thus attract the interest of the Emperor’s press gangs.
“Coming,” Alexander sang out as he threw off the bed clothes and leapt out of bed.
He dressed rapidly, trying to keep his bare feet off the cold floor as much as possible. Spring mornings were always cool on this part of Gaulle, and his father never fired up the furnace in their farmhouse once the threat of snow was past.
The warm, spicy smell of eggs frying filled the air as Alexander came down the stairs and into the kitchen. His mother stood by the stove turning breakfast links in a pan. She smiled a welcome to him and handed a plate of bright blue eggs to his sister Junia, who was more than two years older than Alexander. Junia put the eggs on the table as Alexander sat down. His father was eating already. Alexander served himself, then began to shovel food into his mouth, hoping to finish eating before his father noticed how much he was consuming.
Shades of Empire (ThreeCon) Page 2
