Chapter Ten

Sarden

 

The little Earth female was really getting under my skin. I knew I shouldn’t let her but it was extremely difficult to keep my distance for some reason. The night before, for instance, it had taken every ounce of my willpower not to cup her full breasts and suck her ripe pink nipples…not to stroke lower and cup her sweet sex in my hand. I’d been able to smell her heat—a warm, feminine scent that drove me wild. I’d wanted badly to dip my fingers deep into her wet well, to pleasure her and to taste her.

But if I did that, I knew it would only make it that much harder to trade her away to Tazaxx. Already I greatly regretted the fact that I couldn’t keep her for myself. If I’d had enough credits and more time, I would certainly have gone back to buy another Pure One to trade to the crime lord so I could save Zoe.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough of either.

I hoped to at least solve my credit problem during this meeting with the collector of medical artifacts. As for time, there was no helping that. Even once (if) I got the malfunctioning hydrogen scoop panel fixed, I would have to push The Celesta to her limit in order to get to Giedi Prime before the auction took place.

If Tazaxx decided Sellah wasn’t right for his private collection, if he decided to auction her off instead…well, the males who liked to abuse females I had told Zoe about were very real. And Earth females were not the only ones they were interested in. If Sellah got sold to a T’varri for instance…

But no. I couldn’t let myself think such things. I pushed the worried thought to the back of my head as I left the ship and went down the long corridor which led to the spaceport proper. Ducking through to the unaccompanied males doorway, I bypassed the Majoran males and their treasured females. I would get my ship fixed in time to save my little sister, I told myself—I had to.

My only regret was that I couldn’t save Zoe too.

 

* * * * *

Zoe

You wouldn’t think you could get bored on an alien spaceship light years from Earth, surrounded by amazing new technology you’d never seen. But you’d be wrong. I was bored—bored to tears.

I had nothing to do but sit on the silver bed and stare at my hands, still bound in the thick, heavy manacles. I didn’t even have Al to talk to because he had taken his golden dragonfly form and gone with Sarden to meet the prospective buyer for the old medical junk they were trying to sell.

Plan B had seemed like a good idea at the time but look where it had gotten me. Maybe if I hadn’t tried to brain Sarden and cuff him I might be out with him at the spaceport right now. I could be seeing things no other human had ever seen. I might even have found a way to escape—maybe a friendly alien freighter who wouldn’t mind giving me a lift back to the big blue marble I called home.

Instead I was sitting around staring at my hands waiting to be sold.

The glowing blue light on the chain between the heavy cuffs blinked and glowed, almost seeming to taunt me for my stupidity. I couldn’t help remembering what Sarden had said—that I couldn’t have held him with the manacles, even if I’d been able to get them on him. Because they were keyed to a Vornish skin signature or something like that. “One firm touch of the lock-light would have set me free,” he’d said. Or something to that effect.

So Plan B was doomed to failure right from the start.

Staring at the light, I remembered the way he’d touched it—getting it to glow first green and then purple. When the color changed, the properties of the manacles seemed to change as well.

But the light turned green for you last night too, whispered a little voice in my brain. Don’t you remember? Before you snuck into Sarden’s room?

I sat up a little straighter. It was true. They had turned green and popped open when I pressed the light. Sarden had seemed so sure that the manacles wouldn’t work for anyone but him or another Vorn. But what about the way I had popped them open when I was examining them? Had that been an accident?

I wasn’t Vorn but the question wouldn’t leave my mind and I was plenty bored enough to entertain it. What if I could somehow unlock myself? Well, it was worth a try—it wasn’t like I had anything else on my busy social schedule at the moment.

Experimentally, I tried to reach the glowing blue light with one of my fingers. But the cuffs were too thick—no matter how much I reached and stretched, I was still half an inch shy from making any kind of contact.

Well, do you have to use a finger to press it? whispered that sly little voice again. Try something else. Don’t give up!

I didn’t intend to. Feeling slightly foolish but also very determined, I lowered my head and pressed the blue light firmly with the tip of my nose.

At first there was nothing but a ticklish buzzing in my nose, the faint, metallic smell of the manacles, and the sound of my own breathing. Then I heard that faint chiming sound I remembered from the night before and the thick cuffs popped open and fell from my wrists.

“Yes!” I jumped up and almost fell off the floating bed which swayed dangerously with my erratic motions. That didn’t stop me from doing the happy dance on the silver beanbag, though. I jumped and danced and pumped my fists in the air—they seriously felt so much lighter now. I hadn’t realized how much those damn manacles had been weighing me down!

“Suck it, Sarden!” I said aloud, as I finally sat back down on the bed, panting. My victory dance had been the most aerobic exercise I’d had since the big red jerk had captured me. I normally try to hit the gym with Charlotte at least three times a week, just for stress management. Only here on this stupid alien ship I had all the stress and no way to manage it. I felt better just for getting my heart rate up.

Once my elation faded a little though, I realized I was just as stuck as ever. My door was still locked—Sarden had made sure of that before he left. So yes, I was uncuffed, but I was still confined to my room.

“Great going, Zoe—you’re still trapped,” I muttered to myself. And still no closer to ever seeing Earth again.

In a fit of irritation, I picked up the heavy manacles by their chain. Squeezing the stupid lock-light as hard as I could, I threw them at the locked door.

I expected them to smash and scrape against the door, hopefully leaving a nice, long scratch in the shiny silver metal.

Instead, the door whooshed open and they flew out into the hallway with a musical clatter.

“What the…?” I hopped off the bed again, stumbling in my haste. What had happened to the door? Why had it opened? Did the manacles have something to do with it?

Walking over, I bent over and examined the empty, open manacles carefully. The light on the chain between them was now glowing a deep, steady red. Huh. What did that mean?

I didn’t know but I sure as hell intended to find out.

Scooping up the heavy manacles, I went to another door I was pretty sure was locked—Sarden’s. Sure enough, when I passed my hand through the invisible beam, nothing happened and the door stayed closed. But when I put the manacles through the beam, it slid open at once. Yay!

I stared down at the heavy cuffs in my hand, thinking hard. Okay, so I had a way to unlock doors and get wherever I wanted on the ship. But I probably had a limited time before Sarden came back and found me out of my restraints and wandering the halls. Or hall, really, since the ship was mostly just a lot of rooms leading off one long hallway. What should I try next?

My first thought was to get out. I went for the door where Sarden had brought me in, through the confusing maze of claustrophobically tight passageways into the place where the little shuttle was docked.

Sure enough, there was a door—a really big hatch, actually, that looked like it was made to open and let the shuttle out. Heart pounding in my chest, I walked up to it and waved the glowing manacles in every direction, trying to break the invisible beam and get it to open.

Only it didn’t work. No matter how wildly I waved the heavy metal cuffs, the door stayed obstinately closed. I grew more and more frustrated until I finally saw something blinking in one corner of the large hatch door. Kneeling down, I saw what looked like some kind of combination lock. It had a dial with alien markings in glowing green script all around it. Of course, I couldn’t read them. I had another moment of regret that the translation viruses the Commercians had sent through the hole in Earth’s ozone layer only affected spoken language and not written.

Still, even if I had been able to read Sarden’s language, it probably wouldn’t have done me any good. I still wouldn’t know the combination or code or whatever was needed to get out of the ship.

I tried twisting the dial this way and that anyway, unwilling to just give up. I even put my ear next to it and tried to listen for clicks the way burglars always do in the movies.

I may be a lot of things, but a safe-cracker I’m not. After a few minutes of futilely twisting the dial, I gave up. This thing wasn’t going to budge for me and it was time to stop wasting my time.

Strike One but I wasn’t done yet. Time to find another way out of this ship.

I threaded my way back through the narrow passages and into the main corridor. It was weird how quiet it was—except for the soft hum of the ship’s engines, I couldn’t hear anything at all. At least Sarden had left the lights on—it made the long, empty hallway a little less spooky.

A little. God, I really wanted to get out of here!

The next thing I tried was the control area of the ship. The manacles opened the door for me with no problem but then I was faced with a bewildering array of blinking, glowing, buzzing instruments. What was all this? It made the control panel of the shuttle look like a kiddy car. There was no way I could get any of this to work—even if it hadn’t been voice locked to Sarden’s voice. Also, there was no door anywhere—at least not any I could see.

Strike Two. But I still wasn’t ready to give up.

I left the control area with its crazy Christmas light display instrument panel and went the other way down the long hall. After the food-prep area, the entertainment room (which had some really intriguing-looking tech that would have made any gamer pee his pants with excitement) and the bedroom and storage room doors, there was nothing for a long way.

Then, just as I was beginning to wonder if the ship went on forever, I came to a small door at the very end of the corridor. Suddenly I had a thought—when Sarden had first brought me aboard, he had specifically told me to stay out of the storage area in the back because it was dangerous. Was that what this was? And what had he meant by dangerous?

Maybe he just wanted to keep me out of a place that had a possible exit, I thought. I wouldn’t put it past him, the big red bastard. I didn’t care what he had said—I was going to take my chances.

I pushed the manacles through the invisible beam and the door slid open with more of a wheeze than a whoosh. It seemed I might have come to a part of the ship that wasn’t used very often. Well fine, that didn’t bother me as long as there was an exit door.

The room revealed by the open door was dim—almost dark, in fact. There was, however, a faint yellow rectangle of light at the very end of it. The glow reminded me of sunshine—of daylight.

A-ha! My heart jumped in my chest and I took a step inside and nearly tripped. The big dark room—it was seriously almost as big as a football field—seemed to be packed with all kinds of objects.

I held the manacles up, using the faint glow of their lock-light to try and see what they were. I saw lots of shiny metal and glass—or plastic maybe, I couldn’t tell—but none of it made sense to my eyes. There were many large, complex machines and some smaller ones as well. I lifted a small, heavy device from a shelf and held it up to the manacles’ light. It looked like a round blue glass paperweight but it had a silver corkscrew-looking arm sticking out from the center of it.

I studied the small instrument carefully, looking closer. There was a reddish-brown stain on the sharp, jutting end of the corkscrew. Was it just rust…or something worse?

Then, a faint noise began. Soft, at first—so soft I could barely hear it. It was a tinkling melody kind of like an old fashioned music box. I frowned—was that coming from the corkscrew paperweight in my hand?

It seemed that it was. I brought it closer to my face, examining it, trying to figure out how it could make music. The blue glass part of it was clear and I didn’t see any kind of mechanism for music inside, but the soft, tinkling tune was definitely coming from the strange device.

That was when it came to life in my hand, the corkscrew stabbing out at me with no warning.

“Oh my God!” I gasped, feeling a line of fire slice across my cheek. I dropped the thing as a bolt of terror surged through me, and hopped back a step as though I’d seen a spider. Or something worse than a spider.

I expected the blue paperweight part of it to shatter but it didn’t—it bounced once and then lay there on the floor, retracting and stabbing the bloody metal corkscrew over and over as the soft, inviting tune played on and on, echoing eerily in the vast, dark room.

I waited for a long, breathless moment to see if the thing was going to grow legs and come skittering after me, but the stabbing motion appeared to be the only movement it was capable of. Well, that and the weird song, which now reminded me of the kind of music you hear in a horror movie when the doomed character opens an ancient, cursed puzzle box they’re supposed to leave strictly alone.

Anyway, it answered my question over whether the reddish brown stuff on the corkscrew end was rust or blood. I put my fingers to my cheeks and winced—it had really sliced the hell out of me! What a horrible device—who would invent something like that?

I wondered if it was a Vorn thing but somehow I doubted it. I didn’t know Sarden very well, but he struck me as a straight-forward kind of guy. If the rest of his people were anything like him, they wouldn’t invent a device so subtle. One that invited you to get closer and closer with its faint, tinkling music until you were within stabbing distance.

What about the Eloim then? I didn’t think so. To hear Sarden describe them, they sounded stuck up and priggish. This kind of weapon or whatever it was, would probably be considered crude.

Another thought occurred to me—maybe this was part of the medical equipment Sarden had gone to the spaceport to try and sell. That seemed most likely although I couldn’t imagine any medical exam that would require you to be suddenly jabbed in the face with a metal corkscrew. Another inch to the left or right and the damn thing would have burst my eardrum or popped my eye like a grape! Ugh!

Okay, enough messing with the equipment, I told myself. Sarden hadn’t been lying—it was dangerous. So from now on I was going to keep my hands strictly to myself and just try to get to that rectangle of light I saw at the end of the huge room.

I stepped carefully over the stabby-stabby corkscrew paperweight and picked my way carefully through the room, being extra careful not to touch a thing. Though I tried to blot it with my sleeve, blood was running down my cheek from the long, shallow scratch on my face. I really hoped I wasn’t going to need stitches—I was millions of miles away from the nearest E.R.

Shaking my head, I kept going.

Sarden

I didn’t know why, but I had a bad feeling as Al and I made our way back to the unattached males district. It’s a small area of synth-sex shops and delusion parlors that the Majoran peace keepers usually don’t bother to patrol. In contrast to the rest of Gallana, there were almost no females here and I could see why. The whole district was about males getting their most savage needs met without female interference.

Synthi-whores trolled the streets, crying their wares in cracked, mechanical voices. Cloning-mechs called that they could make the female of your dreams…and you could do anything you wanted to her.

Anything at all.

A male cloaked in a shadow-coat whispered to me from a dark alley, asking if I wanted any dream dust. Further down the dirty, rutted road another male offered me fantasy implants.

“See yourself as you want to be…live the life you cannot have in reality,” he rasped hoarsely, dangling the long, silvery synthec-worms which would burrow into a host’s eyeballs and attach to the optic nerves. While he lived—while they fed on him—they would send him the sweetest of visions, stimulating every part of the brain in turn even as they devoured his neural function. They would refuse to let go until he was effectively brain dead—a useless husk with nothing left to give. Then they could come slithering out of his skull and return to their master who would sell them to another fool wishing to escape from reality.

I passed them all by and kept on walking, keeping my head low as I looked for my destination—a bar the buyer had named. At last I found it.

Outside the bar—The Suck Hole—was a row of artificial mouths mounted on adjustable metal poles. The red lips gleamed obscenely and made sucking and kissing noises when I got close enough to trip their sensors.

“A credit a minute—best blow job this side of Endora Six, big boy,” one of the mouths said. I ignored it—public gratification holds no interest for me. And besides, who knew the last time those things had been cleaned? Like everything else in the unattached males district, they were dirty and disreputable.

Not everyone was as fastidious as me, though. Down the line, a male—a Xlexian by his greenish brown, mottled skin—stepped up to a mouth and slid a cred-card into the slot on the side.

“Mmm, give it to me, baby!” the mouth moaned and the Xlexian obliged by unfastening his trousers and shoving his engorged member between its lips.

Obscenely loud sucking sounds began as the mouth took him in. The Xlexian groaned and pumped his hips enthusiastically, oblivious to anyone watching his pleasure. I looked away, disgusted.

“He seems to be enjoying himself,” a voice remarked beside me.

I jerked around and found myself facing a tall male with smooth, even features. His skin was tan and didn’t change color—a sure sign that his lineage was closer to the Ancient Ones than mine—but I couldn’t immediately tell his people. His hair appeared to be a deep, Majoran blue, though it was hard to tell with my sepia-toned vision. Maybe a half-breed like myself then? He had a long, boney nose and a thin mouth—barely more than a slit, which was currently turned up in a sardonic smile.

“What does it matter?” I said, frowning. “It’s a common enough sight.”

“Not on Gallana,” he said, shifting. He was dressed in a long, black cloak that fell from his narrow shoulders and swirled around him as he moved. “This is the only place on this Gods-forsaken spaceport where a male can get a little peace and quiet away from the meddling of females.”

“You are sahjist?” The sahjists were a group of dispossessed males—mostly half or quarter Majorans that didn’t like the way their society was run. They refused to believe in the Goddess-hood of the Empress or the sovereignty of females in general. It went further than that for some of them, though. They said they only wanted equal rights for males but some of them, I knew, fucking hated females with every bone in their bodies. Those were the types—the radicals—you had to watch out for. Especially in a place like Gallana.

“Not a sahjist, exactly,” the male with the blue hair said. “But I don’t believe in letting females run your life. Of course, they have their uses…” he nodded at the row of sucking, artificial mouths where the Xlexian was just finishing. “But to claim they are superior or in some way divine, well…that’s just foolish. They ought to be kept in their place—preferably chained to a male’s bed. Am I right?”

He laughed heartily but I didn’t join in. Instead, I took a step away, looking around the district.

“You’d better keep your voice down,” I told him. “Expressing sentiments like that is liable to earn you a night in lock-down.”

The Peace Keepers don’t patrol the unattached males district often but when they do, you’d better look out. That’s when all the shady characters you meet on the street melt away and the dirty, rutted walkway is deserted. We were safe for now though—I could still see a cloning-mech trying to sell his services to a male dressed in a trawler pilot’s uniform.

“Anyone you want—any female that ever caught your eye but you couldn’t have her,” he was saying. “You can have her now—and do whatever you want with her. Doesn’t matter if she wants it or not—take what you want—what’s rightfully yours. It’s perfectly legal because you’ll own her. All it costs is a hundred creds and a small sample of her DNA.”

The deal turned my stomach. The idea of treating a helpless female so harshly was repugnant to me—even if she was a clone. My thoughts must have shown on my face, though I tried to keep my expression impassive, because the male beside me spoke again.

“Forgive me. I see you don’t share my views,” he said smoothly.

“I’m Vorn. Half Vorn, anyway. We don’t believe in worshiping our females like the Gods-damned Majorans but we don’t mistreat them either,” I said harshly. As I spoke, I had a guilty flash of Zoe as I had left her, held tight by the Force-Locks and secured in her room. I pushed the image away irritably—locking her up for safe keeping had been necessary. There was nothing else I could do.

“Forgive me,” he said again. “Let us speak of more pleasant things, shall we? Such as the fascinating collection of Assimilation medical equipment I understand you have for sale?” Seeing my startled look he added, “I am Count Doloroso, collector of oddities. Your A.L. contacted me about your collection. You are Sarden de’Lagorn, are you not?”

“I am,” I said. “But I don’t intend to conduct business here. Let’s go inside and get a drink.”

In the dim interior of The Suck Hole we found a seat and Doloroso pressed the chipped call button for service.

A fembot waitress with long, matted blue hair and hugely inflated breasts tottered over.

“How can I service you?” she asked in an artificially seductive tone, batting her eyes—one of which had been blinded by an angry patron and still had the stump of a serving fork sticking out of its empty socket. “Would you care to try my pleasure holes?”

Lifting the tattered skirt she wore, she displayed a flat, fleshy pelvis with three vaginal slits—one in the center, between her legs where it should be, and two set above it, beside her hip bones. They formed a kind of obscene, inverted triangle.

“I am able to service all manner of species, not just the Twelve Peoples,” she reported mechanically. “Even three-shafted Yarons are welcome.”

“Thank you my dear, but we just want something to drink,” Doloroso said smoothly. “A pitcher of your finest Majoran ale, I think.” He looked at me. “Have you ever had it dirty?”

“No,” I said. “What’s that?”

“They bring the pitcher and drop a shot of Black Terbian Fire Brandy into it. It’s quite good.”

I shrugged. “Works for me.”

“Make it dirty,” Doloroso told the fembot. She nodded jerkily and tottered off. She returned shortly with a full pitcher of amber ale and a small glass filled with murky black liquid. Setting the tray down with erratic movements, she dropped the entire glass into the pitcher.

A small splash and tendrils of black began to infiltrate the amber. For some reason my stomach lurched uneasily and I thought of Zoe again. Was she all right?

Of course she’s all right—she’s safe, I told myself sternly. She can’t get out of those Force-Locks no matter what she does and she can’t get into any trouble locked in her room. She’s fine. Relax.

I tried to but the worried feeling kept nagging at my mind, even as I made the deal with the Count.

Zoe

Making my way through the crowded, dark room with only the dim light from the manacles to help me wasn’t easy. There were some areas where the large pieces of medical equipment were packed too tightly together to squeeze through so I had to find a way around. I went carefully, but as quickly as I could. Who knew when Sarden would be back? I wanted to be long gone by the time he got to my room and found I had done a disappearing act. Always, I kept my eyes trained on the pale golden rectangle of daylight outlining the door at the back.

Keep it up, Zoe—you can do it! You’re almost there, I told myself. Daylight and freedom are on the other side of that door. I hoped, anyway.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of fumbling through the darkness, I got to the end of the vast room and found myself standing in front of the door outlined in golden light.

Only it wasn’t a door.

When I stepped forward and waved the manacles at it, instead of whooshing open, the entire rectangle lit up. Rather than a door, I saw a tall tank, not unlike the vertical bathtubs in the bathrooms. The whole thing glowed with the pale, golden light I’d thought was sunlight and it was filled with some kind of clear yellow liquid.

The top part of the tank was empty, with just a few lazy bubbles rising to the surface. The bottom, however, had a layer of some kind of shiny black sludge.

“Great. Just great,” I said aloud, putting my hands on my hips so the manacles clanked. “Not a door at all.”

At the sound of my voice—or maybe it was the clinking of the manacles, I don’t know—the sludge at the bottom of the tank stirred. It had collected mostly in one corner and it billowed lazily in an invisible current, looking almost like a piece of black cloth. Or maybe…a tentacle?

I frowned, whatever it was, it wasn’t a door, which meant I had to keep searching. Damn it! My heart sank all the way down to my shoes—or would have if I’d been wearing any. Actually, my bare feet felt like ice from walking on the cold metal floor. Well, I could see the back wall by the deceptive yellowish glow of the tank. Maybe the best thing would be to go to it and start making my way around the perimeter of the room, feeling for an exit as I went.

Something stirred in the tank again—another faint billowing motion—and I felt something wet and warm touch my wounded cheek.

What the hell?

I jerked back involuntarily—it was almost as though someone with a very wet, cold mouth had just given me a sloppy kiss. I put my fingers to my face and they came away wet. But when I examined my fingertips in the faint glow of the manacles, all I saw was blood—the dripping must have been what caused the weird feeling on my cheek.

Well, crap—and here I’d thought it was beginning to clot over.

“Better get going, Zoe,” I told myself aloud. Sighing, I began to make my way around the tank, blotting my cheek carefully as I went. Was I ever going to stop bleeding? Maybe I really did need stitches although I had no idea where I would get them.

Just as I was right beside the tank, I saw something move from the corner of my eye. A flash of shiny obsidian that seemed to glimmer in the dimness like a black star.

Then something curled around my waist and I was yanked up into the air.

 

Sarden

 

“Tell me about your collection,” Doloroso said, taking a swig of his black infused ale. “Are the pictures your A.L. showed me accurate? He sent me only a few but what I saw intrigued me greatly.”

“Absolutely accurate,” I assured him. “I’ve had the lot for almost ten cycles now, stored in my hold. Never used any of it—it came with my ship when I won it.”

“Won it from who?” he wanted to know, taking another sip.

“Male by the name of Heir Misener,” I said, taking a drink myself. The ale was smooth but the Fire Brandy burned my mouth and sinuses fiercely. I liked it. “Science officer with the Assimilation before they were defeated.”

“And who says they were all defeated?” His eyes gleamed strangely. “Maybe they just went underground, waiting for a more opportune time to ah, emerge.”

I frowned at the idea. The Assimilation was an empire which started on the inner ring world of Sha-meth. The Sha-methians had worked hard to build a completely automated society. Predictably, their control systems had been given too much sentience and power and had taken over. These sentient systems downloaded themselves into the brains of the living occupants of Sha-meth and ran them like living corpses which they called “The Assimilated.” Their rise to power had happened with dizzying suddenness and in the ensuing conflict—called the War of Assimilation—they had nearly overthrown the current regime some fifty cycles earlier.

Led by the Majorans, the rest of the Twelve Peoples descended from the Ancient Ones had fought and died to keep them from taking the entire galaxy. Their soldiers were notoriously difficult to kill and impossible to subvert—some said due to the obedience chips implanted at the base of their skulls. Heir Misener, the old bastard I’d won my ship and the medical equipment from, had gotten his chip removed, shortly after the war’s end. He’d been able to think for himself—not too well, though, or he wouldn’t have bet his whole ship on a single hand of double-blind-Trill, but those were the breaks.

We had learned from the War of Assimilation and now all Artificial Life forms had built in controls which kept them from desiring power. But if the Assimilation had won, it would have been a different story—every sentient creature in the known galaxy would have been implanted with an obedience chip and we would have lost our free will forever.

“You better hope the Assimilation isn’t just waiting underground somewhere,” I told my buyer, frowning. “I sure as hell don’t want to be wearing an obedience chip—I wouldn’t think you would either.”

“Obedience is a small price to pay for a galaxy run with perfect order and precision. So the Assimilated used to say,” he remarked.

“They had fucking robots living in their skulls. They’d say anything they were told to say,” I pointed out. “Why are you so interested in the Assimilation anyway?”

He shrugged eloquently. “As I said, I am a collector of oddities. The War of Assimilation is an area of particular interest to me so I collect relics from it in my spare time to amuse myself.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, not completely convinced. There was something strange about this male—something I didn’t quite trust. His Majoran hair and smooth, light tan skin weren’t the only features that didn’t match. His scent was confused too—mixed up—almost as though he was two separate people. Of course, being only half Vorn, my sense of smell isn’t as strong as it could’ve been. But it was strong enough to let me know something wasn’t right with Count Doloroso.

“There is one piece I’m especially interested in.” He leaned across the table, his eyes gleaming strangely again. “A chip-drill. Here—let me show you.”

He activated his holo-ring—a hell of a lot nicer than my own—and a small image appeared hovering above it. It looked like a round, blue glass ball with a twisted metal blade coming out of it.

I stared at it uneasily and for some reason Zoe rose to my mind again. No, she’s fine, I told myself and pushed the worry away.

“It’s an instrument for making just the right pathway for chip implantation,” Doloroso explained. “Once it tasted the subject’s blood, it knew exactly how far to drill.” The holo projected by his ring jerked as the curving silver blade shot out without warning.

I actually jumped back a little.

“Hell of a nasty thing,” I growled. “I think I’ve seen it. Pretty sure it’s with the rest of the stuff in the hold.”

“Good—excellent.” He gave me a very satisfied look. “And there’s just one more thing I hope you have. A sensitivity tank. Looks like this I believe.”

He made another motion and the chip-drill disappeared to be replaced by a yellow, glowing tank with murky black tendrils waving inside it.

“Those are sensu-pods,” he said, indicating the tendrils which now looked more like tentacles. “The tank sustains them with its liquid but they feed best on the emotions and sensations of sentient beings. They’re quite good at measuring sensitivity. How long did you say you’d had this equipment?”

“Around ten cycles,” I said absently.

“Hmmm…” He nodded. “I imagine the sensu-pods in your particular tank are quite hungry by this time.”

I stirred in my chair, remembering my own plans for the tank. I needed it for Zoe’s sensitivity test. Although knowing what I did now about her fear of being submerged in liquid gave me pause about using it. Still—what else could I do since I had refused the Commercians’ testing? I pictured her floating in the tank and felt another stab of worry. Again I pushed it to the back of my mind.

“I do have that as well, I know,” I said. “But it’s the only piece that’s not for sale. I need it for…personal matters.”

“You have a subject you wish to test?” His eyes gleamed. “One who has been recently transported, perhaps? From what world did you buy her? A newly opened one? There have been rumors recently…most intriguing ones.”

“Where I got her is my business,” I said shortly. I didn’t like the idea of Count Doloroso tracking down the Commercians and scanning the Alien Mate Index for an Earth female of his own. I was fairly certain whoever he picked and paid for wouldn’t be treated well at all.

He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Very well, but do be careful if you use it. The liquid that sustains the sensu-pods is toxic to most sentient beings if left on the skin for too long. Whoever you’re testing must be thoroughly cleansed of it if you don’t wish them to go into cardiac shock.”

“Is that right?” I felt more uneasy about using the tank than ever.

“Really,” he said seriously. “Honestly, after such a long time without use, the tank is really not fit for anything but a collector’s item. So I hope you’ll reconsider my offer. I really need it.”

“You need it?” I frowned. “I thought you just collected this stuff for fun.”

“I mean, I need it to complete my collection,” he answered smoothly. “And I’m willing to pay handsomely to get it.”

“How much?” I asked.

He named a price that nearly made me spit out my mouthful of ale and brandy.

“Goddess of Mercy!” My voice rasped a little.

“And twice that for the entire lot,” Doloroso assured me. “But only if it’s complete. Just think—you can clear your hold of a lot of old junk, and I can complete my Assimilation collection—we both win.”

“Show me your credit,” I said. “I don’t know many people that have that much just to spend on a hobby for the hell of it.”

“Here you go—test it yourself.” He handed me a cred-card—black with gold bands. When I pressed the emerald chip embedded in its center, a small holo-figure popped up and hovered briefly over the card before dissipating like a whiff of smoke.

He was telling the truth.

“You can see that’s from the First Bank of Femme 1,” he said, taking back the card when I handed it to him. “A guarantee of authenticity and secure funds. So…are you interested?”

“You know I am,” I said evenly. I still didn’t like to give up the tank but with this much credit, fixing the hydrogen scoop’s panel wouldn’t break me—that was if I could find a mechanic to fix it. As for Zoe’s testing—I would have to get it done elsewhere. I didn’t like the idea of her in that tank, especially knowing that the liquid could be toxic—didn’t like it at all.

Zoe

It happened so fast, I didn’t have any idea what was going on. How could I be standing on my own two feet one minute, and then hovering three feet above the weird tank filled with yellow liquid the next? Before I could answer the question, I found myself plunging down as something pulled me into the liquid which closed over my head.

At once I was back in the swimming pool, back when I was so little—almost too young to remember, and yet much too old to ever forget. I heard myself crying my little sister’s name, saw her sinking in the water below me, eyes open wide, limbs flailing. I couldn’t reach her…couldn’t reach her because neither of us could swim…

My head was yanked back above the surface and I took a choking, gasping breath. I wasn’t in the swimming pool at the neighbor’s house—I was in a tank in an alien spaceship and something had me by the waist. What was it?

Looking down, I saw a thick, slimy tentacle wrapped around my waist like some kind of belt. I grabbed it and tried to push it down—to push it off. It was slimy and horribly warm under my hands—almost hot. What the Hell was it?

My heart was pounding in my chest as I pushed at it, my pulse skittering like a frightened rabbit’s. The sleeves of Sarden’s black shirt had unrolled themselves and they kept getting in the way as I tried to get a grip on the damn thing.

“Let me go,” I muttered under my breath. “Let…me…go, you bastard!”

And suddenly, it did.

I dropped to the bottom of the tank like a stone, the weight of the sodden shirt pulled me down.

“No!” I tried to say but I sucked in a mouthful of the yellow liquid which was more viscous than water, and choked it out again. I looked up, clawing to find a way out but the sides of the tank rose around me, slick and high and unclimbable. I thrashed as hard as I could, the glowing yellow tank mixing with the vision of the murky blue pool in my past to make a confused vision of horror in my head. Angie, I thought. Angie, I’m so sorry…

Suddenly the slimy black tentacle grabbed me and lifted my head above the water again. I took another ragged, gasping breath and coughed it back out again, trying to rid my lungs of the horrible liquid, which tasted like mud and blood mixed together.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, more tentacles appeared and started tearing at the black shirt I was wearing.

“Hey…hey, stop that!” I gasped as they managed to get it open. Two more tentacles stripped it off my shoulders, leaving me naked and flailing in the slimy liquid. What the hell was going on? What were they going to do?

I found out sooner than I wanted to.

Two thin, shiny black tentacles suddenly appeared right in front of me, their tips pointed at my chest. I looked down at them stupidly, unable to move since the thicker tentacle was still wrapped around my waist.

As I watched, the end of each tentacle began to grow and change until, instead of a blunt tip, they had both turned into starfish-looking appendages on the end of the long black arms.

Before I could wonder what the starfish-hands were for, both of them surged forward and plastered themselves to my boobs.

“Hey! Hey, stop it, you perverts!” I began to thrash even harder, trying to get away from the awful things. But they were stuck on me like suction cups. And speaking of suction, it seemed like they were determined to suck my nipples right off my breasts. In fact, it felt like someone had put a vacuum hose against each of my boobs and flipped the switch to high.

It hurt like hell and felt perverted at the same time. And then another tentacle brushed at my inner thigh.

“Oh, no,” I said, kicking out at the thing as hard as I could. “Oh, Hell no, I don’t think so—get away from me!”

I was shouting at the top of my lungs—dimly I could hear my own voice echoing in the vast chamber. But there was no one to hear—no one to save me. Was this how my story ended? Could I really die like this, molested to death by some creepy alien creature, like some hapless schoolgirl in Japanese hentai tentacle porn?

“No!” I screamed as the tentacle brushed between my legs again. “No—no, you son of a bitch! Get off me!”

And then the main tentacle around my waist yanked me down again. My mouth filled with the awful yellow slime and I couldn’t shout any more…