Enslaved Read online

  “Come home,” her mother repeated firmly. “At once. Have the ritual done. I will speak to the Head Priestess, Betina—I will tell her that this male bewitched you in some way and led you into defilement. I’ll make a large donation to the temple—she’ll do the ritual. And then…no one will ever have to know about this horrible thing you’ve done. No one…” She closed her eyes briefly. “No one but me.”

  “But…” Trin was trembling. “But it’s supposed to be so painful and…and disfiguring.”

  “Look at you!” Her mother’s voice dropped to a low, disgusted whisper. “Look at you, Lonarra. You were once one of the Unpenetrated. I was so proud of that—so proud. And now…” She turned her head. “Now I cannot even bear to meet your eyes.”

  “Mother, please…”

  “Come home. Quickly. Or I will be forced to go to the temple and have you declared one of the Defiled Dead.” She looked at Trin again. “I don’t want to do that, Lonarra. Don’t make me do that. Come home.”

  Before Trin could protest again the image flickered and then died as the viewscreen went black.

  * * * * *

  “You’re not actually going to go, are you? You’re not really going to do that?” Thrace exploded when the evil woman who was apparently Trin’s mother finally vanished from the screen.

  “I have to.” Trin rose from his lap—the encounter with her mother had made Thrace go completely soft so she was able to get up with ease. “I have to,” she said again, going to the clothes storage area and beginning to get dressed. “You heard my mother—there’s no other way.”

  “No other way for what?” Thrace demanded.

  “No other way for me to be forgiven.” Trin had pulled on one of her familiar black jumpsuits and a pair of black boots. She looked completely different from the female he had served on Yonnie Six but it wasn’t just her clothing that was changed.

  Something’s broken inside her, Thrace thought, staring at her in concern and remorse. Gods help me but it’s true.

  “Yes, it’s true—something is broken.” Trin spoke in a low, distracted voice and he realized that she must have heard him through their newly forged mental bond. “It’s broken but I can fix it…maybe. If I go home.”

  “You can’t go!” he insisted.

  “I have to. But there’s something else I have to do first.” She tucked a small, snub-nosed blaster into the folds of her black jumpsuit and turned for the door.

  “Trin? Where are you going? What are you planning to do?” Thrace rose quickly, stuffing himself back into the tight leather trousers he wore. Damn it, why hadn’t he gotten himself together when he saw her getting dressed? By the time he was decent, she was already out the door. “Trin!” he called, trying to follow her. But to his horror, he heard the sound of a metal bolt snicking into place—she had locked him in.

  “Trin, no—don’t be a fool!” he roared, pounding on the door. When that didn’t work, he kicked it. It held solid despite his best efforts—the metal panel was thick and the bolt was a strong one.

  “I have to go.” Her voice was distant and cool from the other side of the door. “I have to do this. You’ll be safe in there and I’ll come get you after…if I can.”

  “Trin—” Thrace began but he could already hear her boot heels echoing along the metal corridor as she walked away.

  He knew where she was going—to confront Two. And there was no way he could stop her or protect her.

  * * * * *

  “My, my—back so soon?” Two’s single eye gleamed with malevolent glee as he saw Trin enter the room. “And feeling much better, I hope?”

  “Much better,” Trin said evenly. As she spoke, she took in the situation with a single glance. Two was standing in the middle of the control area, the dissipater still held idly in one hand. The crew—the few that were left—were crowded at the far end of the room behind him. Doubtless he had been menacing them earlier but now he had his back to them and was giving Trin his entire attention.

  She knew what she had to do—she just had to find someone to help her. Trin let her eyes flick up to meet those of her crew. Yonish, her engineer looked away and so did Talah, the ship’s cook. One by one, they all looked away from her searching glance, denying or ignoring her silent order. But finally, Trin locked eyes with Sidna. Sidna didn’t look away or drop her gaze. She only nodded imperceptibly.

  “And did you get what you needed to quench your thirst?” Two taunted. “I understand that the Havoc can be most productive in that area. Is that true?”

  “The only thing I’m thirsty for now is your blood.” Trin strode forward, keeping Two’s attention fixed on her.

  “Ah-ah, my dear—I don’t think so!” He raised the dissipater and pointed it at her. Trin nodded slightly at Sidna and the medic rushed Two from behind. Locking one arm around his skinny throat, she grabbed the arm with the dissipater and jerked it up sharply, just as he fired.

  The dissipater went flying from his grasp and the shot went wild and hit a panel of insulation near the ceiling, burning a huge hole in the greenish-yellow stuff. Luckily it absorbed most of the damage and kept the dissipater blast from eating through to the top of the ship. Trin was distantly grateful for that—she didn’t need a hull breach on top of everything else right now.

  Stepping up, she shoved the muzzle of her blaster right under his jaw before he could wriggle loose from Sidna’s grip.

  “Good job, Sidna!” Trin told her friend. “And you—hold still.” She glared at Two coldly. “Or I’ll blow your head off now rather than later.”

  Two stopped struggling at once. This close to him, Trin could see that the rotten patches in his exposed brain had grown until almost all of the gray, spongy tissue was consumed by putrid, black decay. She could smell his stench—the stench of dead things hidden away in a hot, dark space—even through the clear plasti-shield he wore over that area of his head. She’d been too drugged with the passion berry wine to notice before, but now it made her want to gag. Somehow she held her stomach in check and shoved the blaster even harder into his skinny neck.

  “Talah,” she said, without looking away from him. “Go to the anteroom attached to mine and get the manacles on the cot. Bring them here to me now.”

  “Y-yes, Captain.” Trembling, Talah did as Trin said and was back in an instant with the manacles—and also Thrace. “I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered to Trin. “I had to let him out when I went in for the manacles. I tried to stop him but he’s so big.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Trin told her, never taking her eyes from Two. “It’s fine. Just put the manacles on the prisoner.”

  “I’ll do it,” Thrace said. Sidna stepped back and he took the metal cuffs from the trembling cook and locked them around Two’s skeletal wrists, cinching them tight. “All right,” he said in a low voice to Trin. “Now what? You want to shoot him?”

  “Yes, kill him!” Sidna exclaimed in a trembling voice.

  “Not yet,” Trin snapped. She gave the medic a look that made the other woman step back. Then she glanced around. “The wine. Where’s the wine he made me drink?”

  Thrace rummaged through Two’s pockets and found the flask.

  “Here it is—now what?”

  “Are there enough for three drinks?” Trin asked coldly.

  Thrace frowned. “There are but I’m not sure how it would affect a male of his species.”

  “Give it to him. Let’s find out.” Her voice sounded distant and cold in her own ears.

  Thrace started to protest then stopped.

  “As you wish, Mistress,” he murmured, unscrewing the cap of the flask.

  “What? No!” Two protested, trying to jerk away when Thrace pressed the flask to his thin, liver-colored lips. “This is not part of the foretelling! You are supposed to be my doom!” he exclaimed, staring wildly at Thrace. “You’re supposed to shoot me and put me out of my misery—not add to it!”

  Thrace frowned. “Are you saying you want to die?”