Part 3 (1/2)

”And the other business?” Manjanungo's voice queried from the commbox.

”She found me irresistible.”

”You and everything else with b.a.l.l.s,” the commbox said.

”Anyhow, I'm hired. We should break orbit in five or six days.”

”Not enough. I'm being delayed. Head for the second rendezvous point. Sub-light all the way. Clear?”

”Pos. Understood. Firm.”

”What about crew?”

”A little trouble, but I have the three Jarps, a.s.suming I can clear their papers. Found a cake with good mate's papers. Knowing anything about a homely young one 43.named (Code Two) EAANDRJN? And are yer familiar with a (Code Three) FTRJTL-O-STK?”

He paused while Manjanungo's puter decoded their simple system. No need for more complicated ones. He knew Manjanungo's screen was displaying the two nonsenses he had enunciated and under them supplying the translations: NAJENDRA. KARMAL PAK.

”I know neither. I have mate trouble also. Hire at your own judgment. The other is-?”

”Just out of the locker. He's my steward. Apart from the Jarps, that's it.”

”Did you promise him anything?”

”Only the moon and both suns.”

”Fine. Promise 'em anything and give 'em setting Three. Unless he seems good material for us, of course. No unkindness to your guest, remember. That's enough. I shall see yer, Lortice. Eventually.”

On that, without another word, Manjanungo had terminated communication.

After that Lortice had run into a little trouble. He worked and sweated down on Jorinne. He had to double-check Najendra. Had to get all Lady Seerava's gear cleared and onboard-enough for nine of her! He pestered burok to get the Jarps cleared. All three had been slaves, of course, and the papers of one of them were questionable. That worked out, slowly.

Jorinne was a rich and a busy planet. Freighters were constantly pulling away from Solijer or out of parking orbit, loaded with exports that were far from being all jewels and jewelry. There were lots of concentrates for smelters on other worlds-mostly other worlds' satellites. Jorinne had no smelters. The Josers could afford clean air. They exported raw and imported finished products. Why suffer a night sky tinged with the corona of 44.sublimated pollution that surrounded every metallurgical satellite and eventually snowed down onto a planet's surface? Too, the d.a.m.ned clan-chiefs insisted that yachts must pay their ways, but Lady Seerava would not hear of exterior cargo, and no one wanted to bother with the smallish load Lortice could carry, and Lady S. was b.i.t.c.hing, and d.a.m.ned if Lortice's mistress didn't catch on about Seera, and leave him, and a burok hand wanted more greasing . . .

Eventually he had his s.h.i.+p's mate, steward, and three-Jarp crew, along with his pa.s.senger and her asteroid-sized companion. And his cargo. The latter, neatly consigned, was the perfect window dressing. Everyone a.s.sumed and would keep right on a.s.suming that s.p.a.cer Lewuvul was on its way to Franji.

It wasn't. It was on its way to rendezvous with the rising new pirate who meant to challenge Ramesh Jagesh-war for the dubious t.i.tle of King of the Slavers.

It was the s.h.i.+p that Manjanungo wanted, not a hostage or kidnap-for-ransom victim. Nevertheless, his orders were explicit and repeated on that last comm-across-s.p.a.ce: Lady Roundheels was not to be harmed.

(Lortice a.s.sumed that Manjanungo knew all about Artisune Muzuni, who had not had any trouble with the superspooks until he had ama.s.sed a dangerously large fleet. Then TGO had wiped him out. The difference was that Manjanungo was more than ruthless and clever: he was smart. He also had a hostage on his s.h.i.+p, though presumably no one knew about that yet. If TGW/TGO did not challenge him, no one ever would.) At last the time had come. ”Prepare to break orbit,” Lortice said, and the reply was onscreen before he had p.r.o.nounced the last word: READY. DESTINATION CHIP INSLOTTED?.

45.”Negatory. Just plot course to the next nexus. Sub-light all the way.”

FIRM. ACCELERATION IN FIVE SECS. FOUR. THREE-.

More days pa.s.sed. Little else did, of interest, except for Seera. She was interesting-at first. Then Lortice's interest waned. It was a dreadful shame, to tire of a truly sensuous woman; to feel used by her. Lortice did, and then Pak did. After that it was just labor. Mechanical. A real shame.

Now she was locked up as no Most n.o.ble Lady should be, and Lortice felt less than good about it and d.a.m.n oh d.a.m.n it all, all they could do was continue to wait!

He decided that he could handle another drink. At least, he thought as he slid the pla.s.s under the nozzle, he's a great and rich employer, and we're waiting while he does something of really extraordinary importance!

Manjanungo entered his cabin with its warm Moroccan hangings and made sure the door was secure. With him locked inside, it would open only to his voice-code.

He rustled out of his long black coat and worked his shoulders in the full and full-sleeved white blouse, decorated and edged with lace. Grandee style, he called it, without being any more certain of that ancient word than he was of the ”Santa Maria!” or just ”Santa” he had taken up as expletive, when he remembered. Gleaming black tights and jackboots he retained, and the broad belt with the pistole thrust piratically into the belt, pra.s.s handle turned to his right hand.

Only after he had stored away the coat did he turn and deign to take note of his guest.

With his brows a.s.suming their supercilious lift, he moved closer. He surveyed her with pleasure.

46.My guest. My toy!

She cut quite a figure in any posture, and particularly this way, standing so erect. The position made the most of her inspiring 186 sems* of height, which to some was probably more daunting than inspirational. He had caused her ma.s.s of blue-black hair to be curled girlishly: ”Make it cute,” he had directed. Darling curls spilled down onto her forehead above arched, jet brows. They were oiled s.h.i.+ny because he liked them that way. He had mandated the dye for her eyelids, too: a deep, blue-tinged green.

At once girlish and a wh.o.r.e, he had said, and so he had made her, his captive.

Unusually for a woman so tall-taller than her captor by five sems-she was a flowing in-and-out line of fascinating, entirely female curves. Every sem of her unusual length was taut with youth and well-toned musculature. A sensual and extraordinarily s.e.xy woman.

bhe was also a clever and dangerous stalker, spy, investigator, and killer with a brain. A competent one, with many successes to her credit. That made his glow all the warmer at having taken her, back on Ghanj, and adorning her as he did. His toy.

My s.e.xy, overgrown girl of a toy!

Intaglio had ”clothed” her and arranged her nicely for him. A rigidly erect, elegant line, motionless as a statue save for her breathing. And her eyes.

Tall, sheer, chocolate-hued hose climbed and hugged those extraordinarily long legs almost to their apex. There each was circled by a visibly tight, slightly too tight, char-brown ribbon. Each was tied in a bow whose long ends dangled down the sides of her s.h.i.+ning thighs. So taut he could see their fine musculature under the 186 centimeters: six/ee/, one inch. Old Style 47.hose, those thighs. Her frilly little mockery of a skirt began just below her navel and ended just above the tops of the stockings, just at the base of her v.u.l.v.ar bulge. The frivolous skirt was an insult to such a woman, of course. That was deliberate, of course.

Because delicate pink was a girlish mockery to such womanly magnificence, her halter was a delicate pink edged with dainty white lace. Two circular cut-outs allowed half of each large breast to thrust through as if arrogantly, aggressively flaunting swollen, deep-red-dyed tips stabbing from their chocolate-dyed haloes. Red unto mauve, those nipples, since Intaglio had seen fit to bind each tightly with a loop of thin cord. Its color was not apparent to Manjanungo because the swelling and darkening of her tied-off nipples quite obscured it.

Were they as sore as the very large boils they resembled, he wondered idly; or numb, tied off with all the circulation stopped?

A great deal of something had been stuffed into her mouth under the broad strap of leather that obscured it, judging by the exaggeratedly lengthened jawline.

Her hands were dragged tautly behind her. And behind the bra.s.s pole, thick as his thigh, that Manjanungo had caused to be installed here in the master's cabin of his s.p.a.cegoing yacht. (For just this purpose, though this woman was not the first to be bound to it.) She stood so erect because of the strap under her chin, across her neck, and secured to a ring behind the pole.

She stared at him from those marvelous, incredibly olive-hued eyes. In them he saw only a hint of their former flash and combative fire.

It was not that he had broken her. Not her!

She knew that she was drugged past resistance. She knew that he had done it. He had kept her drugged this way, now, for almost a month (if she had any concept 48.of time. Probably not). She knew all the acts she had performed on him and his men and girls and even Intaglio. She knew all the places her mouth had been; knew all the organs and things that had plied her three available orifices as well as the cleavage of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She was aware too that she had not been physically forced; the drug had made her softly willing, if not overly enthusiastic. She knew all the acts performed on her, too, by him, and by Jenk and Javad, and by those he called girls, of his s.p.a.cegoing harem. When she had crawled and wagged her tail-and the flowing tail on the end of the rod her body had been forced to contain-she had been aware of it, and she would remember now. She was aware, somewhere in the back of her once-good mind, of her own degradation and use; everything she had done and everything done to her.

The dark hose covered the whip-marks on her thighs. Behind her, her fingernails had been clipped and sanded so short that she would have both difficulty and pain in trying to pick up anything.

Silent, staring, her captor drew his pistol and used its barrel to lift her tiny, girlishly frilly microminiskirt. He let her see his smile at what he revealed. She was plugged and ginger-strapped so that her hairless v.u.l.v.a bulged as fat and obscenely as Intaglio had been able to make it.

Very good. Intaglio has a reward coming.

He would give it to her. She would receive her reward orally. First from himself, and then from a pottle. Once she had mouthed him and taken him deep, and swallowed, he would allow Intaglio to get as thoroughly falling down drunk as she wished, as she always wished. And without the corset, as well. A fine reward, for such as Intaglio!