Whose Body Is It, Anyway?
by Brandy Dewinter
Chapter 10 - Enough!
The entourage that followed Herne said nothing as they entered the
government building that, with its attached arena, had been the only part
of Machovia that I had seen. The heaviness of the men's tread seemed to
be absorbed by the stone walls, leaving only the rapid-tap staccato of my
heels to declare our passage. The direct route they used, as opposed to
the trip by way of cleaning and feeding pens they had taken me along
before, made the trip too short for my frantic mind to really absorb what
was happening.
Again.
At the door to the Magistrate's courtroom, Enforcers held back Eryx
and his group, denying them entry.
"Herne, let us in!" he demanded.
"No one is allowed in the courtroom except those with official
business," Herne gloated. "So, unless you are formally declaring
yourself to be Xora's Protector . . ?"
*I wonder if a Protector is allowed to kiss one of his charges?*
Titania mused.
*Shut up!* I snarled.
*Oh, you were wondering the same thing,* Titania snickered.
I screamed into what had once been the privacy of my own mind, *I was
NOT!*
Titania's calm tones were even more infuriating when she said, *Don't
try to lie to your symbiont, dear.* Still, the truth behind her claim
left me speechless, and too distracted to realize that Eryx, after a look
at me, had allowed the door to be closed in his face.
My internal turmoil was interrupted by the court clerk's sonorous
announcement, "The case of the District versus Xora, Outlander, on a
charge of violation of Ordinance 27-102-7!"
My escorts pulled me before the bench to once again face a gloating
Herne.
"Well, Outlander, you just can't seem to stay out of trouble, can
you?" he asked amiably.
"I want to speak to the Federation counsel," I declared.
An instant of anger flared in Herne's eyes, and he gripped his
gavel like he was about to smash it down on his bench. But before he
made any distinct motion, he visibly calmed himself, leaving only a
residue of heat in his glinting eyes.
"Since this is the second time you have come before me, and within
such a short time, you can be classified by our laws as a rebellious
citizen," Herne warned me. "Any further outbursts and I will make that
official. You don't want that to happen."
I met his suppressed anger with barely controlled rage of my own, no
repentance in my heart, none likely showing in my eyes, but no words on
my lips.
This brought a look of amusement to the Magistrate's expression, but
for a moment he also said nothing. After a time that made it seem like
he was savoring her anger, relishing it, he continued in official tones.
"Since it seems that the pleasant, exhilarating community service
of the Games didn't dissuade you from your lawless ways, something more
stringent will be in order," he said, as though he were carefully
considering alternatives. The continuing glint in his eyes said this was
all sham, that his decision had already been made, but he played out the
little drama for the record.
"Accordingly, you will be assigned to Public Works projects under
the supervision of an officer of the court. When he reports that you
have achieved a properly law-abiding attitude, you will be brought here
again and the court will consider your release."
"With respect, Magistrate," I said, though my gritted teeth showed
how little respect I truly held for the man, "do I understand that to
mean that the length of my sentence is indeterminate?"
"I prefer to think that the length of your sentence is up to you,"
he replied smugly, then he lifted his gavel to rap the conclusion of
his show trial. Before he did, though, he paused and another crafty
grin showed through his beard.
"Oh, it has been reported to the court that you were left overnight
in temporary holding restraints. The court officially regrets this and
promises to take steps to prevent a repetition of this error. You will
be taken immediately and placed in appropriate overnight restraints."
Then he rapped his gavel and the enforcers pulled me toward the
cells.
*Does he regret that you were left hanging all night, or that it
was reported?* Titania wondered.
*What do *you* think?* I replied, hoping that nothing bad would
happen to Dela.
The enforcer led me to a different bank of cells than I had seen on
my first imprisonment. These were smaller, clearly designed to hold
individuals instead of a row of prisoners awaiting further disposition.
The only furnishing, if that's what it was, in the room was a slightly
slanted metal post about the diameter of my (new) waist, from which a
smaller rail extended more or less parallel to the floor and a foot or
so above it.
"Sit there," the guard commanded, requiring me to awkwardly back
down the smaller rail, straddling it with my legs while the hobble chain
trailed along the floor underneath.
The rail was round, but even at the root it was only the diameter of
my ankle, tapering a bit as it extended from the post. When I sat down on
it, the shape forced itself up and between the globes of my ass, forcing
me to rest my weight on a very uncomfortable part of my anatomy.
*I'll take care of it,* Titania promised, before I could even form
a mental complaint.
Bands were attached to my upper arms, then chained to smaller rods
extending from the post at the appropriate height. Once my upper body
was securely fastened to the post, my hammerlock cuffs were removed and
my wrists were fastened in manacles rigidly set in stubs of metal
extending from the post near the bottom.
*This is not going to be pleasant,* I observed dryly, but silently.
*Time to try something.*
I let my eyes droop so that my gaze peeked seductively from below my
lashes, and arched my back enough to make my now-welcome bosom stand very
noticeably forth above my tiny waist. When the guard's eyes had flickered
from this distraction to my face, I let a little flicker of tongue show
against my lips and purred, "I'm very rich, you know. If you were to help
me get back to my ship, I'd make it worth your while. Very much worth
your while. You could name your own . . . reward."
The flush that lit the cheeks of the guard showed my offer had
certainly got his attention, but he said nothing. Additional manacles,
these chained to the horizontal rail near the far end, were placed
around my ankles and the hobble chain was removed. The new chains
were just short enough to keep me from resting my feet on the floor.
"Surely there's *something* I could do to make you want to help
me," I tried again, even throatier, even more blatantly inviting.
"Prisoners are not allowed to speak unless in response to a direct
question," the guard quoted, then produced a white ball on a leather
strap from his pocket. This was forced between my teeth and then
fastened behind my neck.
*Well, so much for bribing a guard,* Titania chuckled.
*This is *not* funny,* I snapped, trying unsuccessfully to force
the repellent object from my mouth.
*Oh, be patient. As soon as he leaves, I can get rid of that
thing.* Titania promised.
*Yeah, and then what happens when someone else comes to check
on us?*
*Ah,* Titania mused, *I hadn't thought of that. I can display
a false replacement, but hiding the real one would be a problem.*
The clank of the cell door, leaving us in dimness relieved only
by a small square of light from an opening in the cell door, cut off
our conversation for a moment.
As the steps of the guard faded down the corridor, I was trying
to shift on the narrow rail.
*This thing is terrible!* I moaned. *Just a few minutes and it's
already hurting my, well, it's hurting.*
*Oh, yes, I'll take care of that now.* Titania replied, and in a few
seconds I felt my weight being supported by a broad pad rather than the
narrow rail.
I leaned back on the post and realized it was more of the same. The
round shape refused to support my back unless I was directly centered on
it, but in that condition the post put painful pressure on my spine. There
was no way to support any of my weight, except directly on the small area
between my legs.
*Okay, I've had enough!* I declared, though the strength of my
declaration was undermined by its silence. *So much for a passive
observation mission. From now on, anything goes to get us out of here,
even if we have to hurt someone. Maybe the hammerlock cuffs are
justifiable; they certainly are effective. But leaving a prisoner in
them overnight is cruel, and doing it carelessly is no excuse. And
*this* thing. If someone had tried to design a more uncomfortable seat,
without actually causing immediate injury, well, I can't imagine what
else they could do. This is cruel, deliberately, and maliciously. We
need to get out of here and report.*
*Fine,* Titania agreed. *And just how do you intend to do that?*
I sighed, then made a hopeless wish, *I would have been nice if we
had received the standard field agent training. How are you at picking
locks?*
Titania's confusion was evident in her voice even before she
asked, *What is that?*
*Oh, damn,* I sighed again.
"I'm sorry, Xora. I didn't know you were going to count on me for
some special skill." apologized Titania, her dismay at possibly letting
her partner down obvious in her voice.
*No, that's all right, Ti. It's my fault. I'm the one who's supposed
to know about tools. It's okay, we can start now. We certainly have
plenty of locks to practice on.*
I proceeded to give Titania a crash course in the theory of locks,
aided by Titania's ability to send tendrils into the interior of the locks
and "feel" her way around. We lost track of time (not that we were going
anywhere, at least, not until we got the locks undone anyway), and were
surprised when the lock on the steel door to their cell started to rattle.
Titania quickly withdrew her probes from the locks, grateful that she
hadn't actually unlocked anything yet, and I tried to act as naturally as
any other prisoner in my cruel straits.
Magistrate Herne himself walked in, motioning the guard at the door
to lock it, leaving him alone with his lovely prisoner, me.
"So, my dear, do you find your new quarters more comfortable than
the ones you enjoyed last night?"
I just glared at him, though my fierce gaze merely made his grin
widen.
"No complaints, hmmm?" he chuckled. "Actually, this is one of my
favorite little inventions. The approved chair, or perhaps I should say
the previously-approved chair was actually quite comfortable, with a
reasonably wide back and a padded base. When I appealed to the Sector
Council for approval of my modification, I merely asked if I might round
off the parts of the device, "In order to reduce any potential for
injury" of course. They've never found out just how much I "rounded"
things. Now I find it quite - yes, I'll admit it - arousing to think of
a woman's so delicate, um, prize being so, oh, firmly caressed. Would
you believe that some women have actually had bleeding sores after only
a single night?"
*This guy is sick!* I gulped, trying to keep from revealing the depth
of my horror. That emotion would only feed his perversion. My partner
picked up on my concern and I felt the tension fade from my muscles as
whatever chemical soup Titania was producing worked to calm
me.
The lack of concern on my features deprived Herne of a large part
of the pleasure he craved, so he started in on further threats.
"Can you guess which "Public Works" you're going to be assigned to?"
he asked with a leer.
He paused just long enough to emphasize my inability to respond and
then said, "It so happens that there is some work that needs to be done
at . . (a deliberate pause for appropriately sinister effect) . . the
estate belonging to the District Magistrate. Isn't that interesting?"
Then he stepped forward and caught a handful of my hair, forcing
me to look at him from a very close range. "I'm going to enjoy taking
that pride you showed when I first saw you on the viewscreen, and turning
it into submission. I'm going to enjoy it when you beg me to let you
lick my feet, or anything else that suits my fancy. And after I've
enjoyed you as much as I want, why, you'll see why my Enforcers are so
loyal to me. Their home barracks are on my estate!"
With this last revelation, he started laughing as he walked to the
cell door, thumping on it. As it opened, he turned to me once again
and said, "Oh, and as for your precious Federation counsel. He doesn't
even know you're on the planet. And I can assure you, he never will."
This set him off into another bout of insane laughter, echoed first
by the guard at the door, and then by the walls of the corridor as he
strolled away.
*Well, that pretty much makes our options clear,* I thought.
At Titania's silent question, I continued, *We break out of this
place, doing whatever is necessary. Once we're back to our ship, we at
least know where that is, we'll lift into orbit and scoot for home.*
With that plan we returned to the task of releasing the locks binding
us to the post and rail. At least we had no trouble reaching any of them.
Titania was able to send tendrils into each of the locks simultaneously.
She couldn't pick them all at the same time, her mental capacity was
respectable, but broadly equivalent to mine. However, the ability to
compare one lock against another was a tremendous help in understanding
the nature of locks themselves, which aided a very steep learning curve.
Still, I estimated it was well into the deep hours of the night when
we were finally free of the post. Only when the last lock clicked did
Titania send a sharp-edged tendril to cut the hated gag. The locked cell
door was yet another problem, though as I looked through the small window,
I could see that the corridors were darkened for night except for a small
light at some of the cells.
*Probably the occupied ones,* I mused. *Which means most are not
occupied, so there probably aren't all that many guards on the night
shift.*
*That's a pretty long chain of assumptions," Titania cautioned me,
but the logic seemed as good as any. *So, do you want me to try and
pick this lock, too? I could send a tendril out through the window
and reach it.*
*I'm sure you could, but I don't like the idea of having a guard
walk up while one of your "fingers" is hanging down the outside of the
cell.*
*What else do we do?*
I could feel the grin light my face even in the darkness as an idea
came to me. *First, I think a bit darker color for our outfit is
appropriate, and cover my legs, too.*
*I am covering your legs,* Titania assured me, then corrected herself.
*Oh, I know what you mean.*
I might have picked a slightly less glossy look, but the shimmery
black that Titania used had a most interesting ability to almost disappear
into the shadows. The shifting highlights of reflections kept my location
from being unusually uniform in color. Giving my partner a mental pat on
the back, I moved to the next phase of my escape plan.
By calling the guard.
"Hello! Is there anybody out there? I have to go to the bathroom!"
"Are you trying to get caught?" Titania whispered in horror.
I just smiled, waited a few minutes and called again.
"Please! I've been in here a long time!"
There wasn't any response, so I decided to up the level of disturbance
a little.
"Can you make a hard covering for my fist?" I asked my symbiont.
"Sure, which one?"
I waved my left hand and soon found what appeared to be a solid lump
of black metal extending from my wrist.
"I hope my fingers are still in there," I said, then started pounding
on the cell door. It rang like a huge bell.
"There, that ought to get someone's attention," I said.
Titania started to soften the covering over my fist, but I indicated
I wanted to retain it a little longer. This time, there was definitely
a response, with heavy steps clumping in our direction. Just before I
expected to be able to see the guard, I called again.
"I *really* need to go to the bathroom!"
The guard rounded the corner and paused for just a moment as he
tried to decide which of the cells was the source of the noise. A more
alert guard might have wondered how one of the prisoners, all of whom
were strictly bound even inside their cells, had managed to make so
much noise. But the guards on duty in the wee hours were not likely to
be the most alert in Herne's private army, a fact which I counted on.
This guard stuck his face in each cell door window as he passed, trying
to decide who was causing the trouble. As he got closer I stood in the
shadows near my own cell window, my steel fist cocked and ready. When
the light through the window dimmed as the guard's head obscured the
small bulb, my fist introduced his nose to the back of his neck.
"Uggh," I said as I looked at the goo on my hand. "I didn't think
it would be quite this messy."
Titania obligingly cleaned off our hand even as a tendril was snaking
down to get the keys from the guard. In seconds we were out. I stopped
to take the guard's sidearm in case we met any further opposition.
We flowed through the shadows like a softly drifting mist, soundless,
thanks to a further bit of Titania's magic, and almost invisible when we
weren't directly under a light. Our escape was proceeding better than we
could have hoped, which was of course the sign for something to go wrong.
We got lost.
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