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NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 29 May 2010 08:00:03 -0500
From: "Elf M. Sternberg" <elf@pendorwright.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Journal Entry 260 / 01039  The Taking of Gabrielle (MF, MF (Caution))
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Date: Sun, 30 May 2010 05:10:14 -0400
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The Taking of Gabrielle
Aldea, Ring 16, 1039
Pasha Hideko Colodor leaned back into his well-worn leather chair and
pressed his fingertips together, smiling to himself in smug
satisfaction. The day had gone very well indeed; already four hours out
they were nearing the safety limit for Hawkwind drive and would soon be
away from the law enforcement that still threatened to turn his pleasure
into destruction.

He could see the subject of his pleasure in the large mural video screen
on the wall opposite his desk; she roamed her cell with deliberate
investigation, examining the details of the room in hopes of finding
something that would let her go free. Pasha smiled; no such flaws or
secret exits existed. Still he admired her fortitude to look.

The paradoxes of immortality amused Colodor even as he passed his
thirtieth decade. The longer an individual lived, the more value the law
placed on life. The knowledge and experience a person had amassed was
deemed irreplaceable. And yet, those people on whom the most value was
placed were the young, who supposedly had so much to offer and so much
to gain.

And she was especially beautiful, this one, being so very young. Just
holding her against her will was enough to bring an entire Pendorian
fleet after him. He knew that before this was over the entire fleet
would be looking for her. And possibly for him. Her black fur, with a
barely visible white stripe down the center, had once been sleek and
well-groomed, but a little rough mishandling by two of his crewmen had
made it ruffled and disorganized. But the beauty of her lithe, youthful
form still threatened to overwhelm him and he found his claws clenching
and unclenching against the arms of his chair. She finally stopped
searching, sitting on the bunk that occupied one end of the room and
propping her chin up with her hand, sitting still.

He glanced down at the plastic holder that sat on his desk. Still the
receptacle for his business cards, he had decided to place there the ID
card his men had found in her purse so he could remind himself of the
dangers he faced. The picture was truly her, and the complex of seals on
the back confused him slightly, since there were Terran, Pendorian, and
Traveller-Merchant marks on it. But the name! What a price the name was
worth! What a value it would have to the religious crazies or the idle
rich. A longtime trader in this kind of cargo, he knew people who would
pay a pretty price for her, and he knew where to find them. He read the
card again.

Gabrielle Elohim.

Mephitis Mephitis Elohim Shardik Satpulov Gabrielle.

            *            *            *

"I'm telling you sir, we have every available man on the planet
searching for your daughter. We will find her. But there are seven
transorbital facilities on this world and people are lifting off and on
Tunoda all the time. During the three hours between when you say you
last saw your daughter and when you first reported her lost, three ships
broke orbit and headed outbound. Since that time seven other vessels
have broken orbit."

"I understand, Governor Legoull."

"Kidnapping is a rare crime, Captain. Kidnapping of Pendorians is
positively unheard of. And your daughter is a special case, sir."

"I appreciate all that you're doing," he lied. "My wife is contacting
her embassy now."

The imperial governor paled slightly. "Is that necessary, Captain?"

"She is my daughter, sir. And I will stop at nothing to retrieve her
unharmed. Good day, Governor." David snapped at the comm display with
his hand and the screen went blank. He immediately regretted the
impulsive gesture, wishing he'd known better than to lose his temper.

Denni was frightened out of her mind. Ever since El had failed to show
up in Lance's perceptual range three hours after she was supposed to
return from a day of shopping, Denni had alternated between hysterical
screaming and shocked silence. He had done all he could to hold her
while she cried, but there had been a moment when he had fought with her
to keep her from tearing the city apart with her bare hands or the
ship's guns.

He sat in his office chair and seethed, feeling helpless. "Captain of a
Pelcityran starship, rich, powerful, secure... a Pendorian wife,
goddammit... how could I possibly ask for anything more?" he raged at
the walls, picking up an authentic print copy of Code of Conduct for her
Majesty's Naval Officers and threw it against the wall. "I could ask for
the safety of my daughter!"

"Lance," he snapped, looking down at the desk. "According to the
Governor ten ships have left in the past 24 hours. What do we know about
those vessels?"

"I think I know which one we want. Four ships were free traders, two
were imperial administration, one is a postal carrier. The other three
were imperial scouts that use this world as the Base Port Of Call. Two
of the free traders I would regard as insignificant. Neither has a
single hint of impropriety, and you know the captain of one of them.
Shusan Lig?"

"Shusan?" David nodded. Shusan would never have touched his daughter.
"You said there were two that were clean. What about the others?"

"Both have Terran computer centers, in itself not always an indicator of
piracy but almost all pirates use Terran machines. The *Roadblock* is
under the command of Captain Williamette Osito. I have almost nothing in
my memory blocks about Captain Osito or the Roadblock, but a visual
record of the *Roadblock* leaving port suggests it is not a new vessel,
nor is Osito a new Captain."

"Forged papers?"

"Not impossible," Lance said.

"Difficult to get IP access with a forgery."

"But still, not impossible," Lance replied.

"You're right. He's suspicious. But you don't think he's our man?"

"No," Lance replied. "The Ice Mistress under the command of Pasha Hideko
Colodor. Hideko is a Pendorian expatriate, an Uncia. The Ice Mistress is
an older ship."

"And *Pasha?*"

"A term of honor on Terra. Among pre-Wave-2 peoples of the Arabian
tradition, it was generally associated with a ruling class. 'Pashas'
often kept complex harem structures of women. Depending on locale,
tradition and conditions, Pashas were either under the threat of death
if they did not produce male progeny, or the Pasha was granted free
reign to behave as he would towards his women and his subjects as he
chose. Although the term 'Sultan' was sometimes applied to this second
case it is considered less complimentary than 'Pasha.'" Lance was silent
for a moment. "He's also been investigated before for MISFitting."

David tapped his fingers on his desk with frustration, considering a
word he hadn't heard in a few years. Misfit. On the small spheres of
dust most people called 'home,' scattered among the stars, the word
'misfit' was something of a compliment, a spike to the otherwise humdrum
existences of gravity-bound lives. The courage to mis-fit was something
many people craved and few achieved with any regularity.

Spacers were all, by definition, misfits. None of them wanted to live
under a safety buffer of atmosphere and law; they preferred the dangers,
rigors and wilds of outer space. The term had no meaning to them as
ground-pounders knew it.

<!-- WTF blurb OVER? --><!-- WTF blurb OVER? -->For them, MISFit was an element of the law they
practiced, rather than a concept. A word that grew out of the
four-letter acronym MISF. Merchant of Involuntary Sentient Flesh.
Slaver.

A rumor was enough for him. "Tasha. We're going after the *Ice
Mistress*. No bet that they're really headed for the planet their logged
for. Lance, talk to Kurt. Find out what else is in range. Call Denni. We
want her here in an hour."

"Will do, Captain. David?"

"Yeah, Lance?"

"I hope we're right."

"I hope so too."

            *            *            *

"Why are you doing this?" she screamed at the ceiling in frustration.
Gabrielle didn't even know if anyone was listening, and she teetered on
the mental verge of breaking down and crying. Nobody ever kidnapped a
Pendorian, at least, nobody who lived afterwards. She hoped Mom and Dad
weren't worried too much. The fleet would come rescue her. She felt sure
of it.

The door opened. She looked up, stunned at the tall, feral felinoid
shape that walked into the room. "Ah, my dear. I see you're still
fiesty. Yes, we heard your shout out here, have no concerns for that."

"Who....who are you?" Her kidnapper was a Pendorian. "Was" being an
operative term here, because she knew that the moment anyone else knew
of this Uncia's activities, his life ended.

"You will simply call me 'Captain,' or 'Sir.' You don't need to know my
real name."

"I'll call you 'Prag,' then," she said.

The Uncia's eyes flashed with rage. Then he eased. "You're lucky you're
so valuable to me. A Graffwhip would teach you a thing or two about
respect, but the people I sell you to will want you intact."

"S-sell?"

"Absolutely, my dear. Why go through all this trouble to take you? No
one in their right mind would try and ransom you; a ransom is far too
easy to trace, and I get no benefit from being known as a kidnapper,
especially not one who takes Pendorians. But as a slave, my dear, you
have excellent potential. I know a few obscenely rich eccentrics who
keep stables of androids in Pendrii shape for their own perverse
amusements. I'm sure one or two of them would just adore having the real
thing, to tie down, to take, and if they wish... to break. And you're so
very pretty, my dear. What are you, thirteen, fourteen years old?"

"My great grandfather is Shardik himself. My grandfather is Aaden
Satpulov. You can't keep me here!"

The Uncia reeled back. Then he smiled, and a cold chill roiled under
Gabrielle's fur to see that smile. "You're really a child of Vatare'
himself." He reached down and stroked her chin; she snapped at his hand
to bite him, but he snatched his hand back before she could close on it.
"Too precious. The bidding on you will simply nova." The human...
Terran, Gabrielle said to herself. Obviously Terran. The Terran standing
behind the Uncia grinned with obvious carelessness. The Uncia said,
"Find some female from the regular cargo hold to keep her company.
Someone small, and who speaks something she knows. She will be getting a
check from the doctor shortly." He stepped forward menacingly, towering
over the Terran. "Any man who touches her will get evacuated. Do you
hear me, Spike?"

"Yes, sir," the Terran replied, turning slightly pale.

The Uncia turned around and grinned at Gabrielle. "Enjoy your stay, my
dear. Depending on who buys you, these may be the happiest moments left
of your life." He chuckled darkly as he swept out of the room, the
Terran identified as "Spike" following him. The door closed behind them,
leaving Gabrielle again alone.

            *            *            *

"David, calm down," Ken replied over the interlink. "I know, you're
upset."

"Upset? Ken, I've not yet begun to fucking be upset! My daughter is
missing!"

"And getting hysterical won't do you any good. When we find the bastard
who took El we can get hysterical then. I'll even put the damned
lightknife into your hands and let you take his heart out yourself.
Right now I want you to be directed. Calm. Think about El; what will do
her the most good?"

"You're right."

"You know I am. Okay, I've contacted the Emperor." Ken rolled his eyes,
and had the situation not been so grave David would have laughed as
well. "I also contacted the United Nations of Unity, and they've agreed
to help. David, if you're right about Pasha Hideko, we're not talking
about a ransom here. He's going to try and make El disappear. And we
can't make the catch without a clear line of guilt. There is a law, even
among the stars."

"I don't care. If there's just a hint that he's harmed a single strand
on the tip of her tail, I'll take him apart with my teeth."

"From a rat, that's quite a threat. How's Denni holding up?"

"She asked me to sedate her. She couldn't handle the pressure anymore,
so I had Kurt give her something to help her sleep. I understand."

"I do too. You don't look so hot yourself, David. Take better care of
yourself, huh?"

"I'll try."

"Please do. Okay, the present supposition is that Hideko is heading for
one of your favorite places-- Fahrenheit Station. The starship Open
Flight will meet you there, unless you have a different destination?"

David shook his head. "Fahrenheit sounds about right. Straight into
Nowheressec."

"David?" A new voice nudged Kennet away from the view screen.

"Aaden?"

"Take care of my daughter. We'll find El. But care for Denni, please."

"I will. Take care of yourselves." He glanced to his left. "Tasha! Prep
for jump. One in ten thousand."

"Set. That's a little high, David. It only buys us five hours for a
factor of risk."

"One in a hundred thousand, then. Let's go."

"Copy."

"Goodbye, David."

"See you at the family get together at the turn of the decade," David
smiled. "With the whole family."

"I hear ya."

            *            *            *

The door to her cabin opened, and Spike came in with another man
following him. Everyone Gabrielle had met had been human, except for the
Captain. "Come on, girl. Let's go see the doc."

Gabrielle recoiled into a corner of the cabin. "No!"

Spike reached out and grab her, a meaty hand landing on her shoulder.
She clawed at him, but he wore thick work gloves and a jacket to protect
him from whatever damage she could inflict. He was also strong, even for
a plain Terran, and she quickly found herself with her arms bound
overhead; both of her wrists fit in his one hand. "March!" he ordered.

She walked, sullen at the way his strength overpowered her. The other
human followed behind them silently. He led her down the steel-plated
walkways and turned at a door labeled "infirmary."

Inside, another human waited with his back turned. "Hey, Doc, got the
Captain's special one for ya."

The "Doc" turned around slowly. "Put her on the tab... Holy Powers." He
looked up at Spike after staring at the girl in his grip. "Spike, has
Pasha lost his mind? This will get us all killed!"

"No reward without risk, Doc," the pirate leered. "She's quite a risk,
huh?"

"Spike, Pendorians thor cities from orbit over kidnappings. This is
dangerous."

"Hey, Doc, look... Do what the Pasha says. He says check her, you check
her. Think about the money."

"On the table with her," Doc replied wearily. Spike hauled her up by her
arms, and she squalled at the pain. He set her down on the table and,
while he held her Doc fitted a thick collar around her neck. She
recognized it and squalled in indignation. He activated the collar, and
they both caught her as she slumped over.

"You two can't do this to me!" she screamed.

"Ah, but we can, dearie," Spike said, stroking her head roughly. She
tried to bite him, but the muscles in her neck fired randomly and she
missed badly with the lunge. From the shoulders down, she was completely
immobile. She could feel the rest of her body, but she could only move
her head. But she could clearly see and feel her legs, her arms, as she
lay on the inclined table. She commanded them to move, and they lay
there, wooden and useless. "Oooh!"

"Don't worry," Doc said softly, trying to be calming. "I won't hurt you
a bit." He waved a scanner over her body, taking careful measurements
and readings. "She's amazingly healthy. Goddamn Pendorians."

"Hey, Doc, just check the vital parts, okay?"

"Spike," Doc replied, pointing an accusatory finger at the pirate. "You
know the rules." Doc slowly stripped off loose-fitting cotton pants she
was wearing, tossing them into a bin. With a pair of scissors he cut off
the rest of her clothing until she was completely naked. He pulled her
body towards him roughly, fitting her feet into stirrups. She cried
softly, whimpering as she felt cold fingers and colder implements
probing her sex, pulling her open and exposing her to the doctor. "She's
not a virgin."

"What?"

"Some boy's gotten to her already."

"No boy got to me!" Gabrielle shouted. "I did it myself!"

"Oh-hoh!" Spike chortled gleefully. "Got a spunky one here. Just keep
talking, spunky skunk. Everything you say just drives your price up a
little more."

"I'll have to tell Pasha she hasn't got a hymen."

Spike leered. "As if you couldn't grow her a new one. So long as she's
clean."

The Doc nodded. "You can take her back to her cabin now. She's going to
need food soon."

"I know," the pirate grinned, pulling her arms over her head and
snapping the collar from around her neck. Control returned to her body
in a painful rush of nervous spasms, and she kicked and tried to squirm
free of the big pirate's grasp again. She failed. "I'm having Mabig take
her her dinner."

Doc looked up. "Spike. If your plan goes wrong, it'll be you and not
Mabig who's going to get evacuated."

"Nothin's gonna happen, Doc. Trust me." He led her out of the infirmary
and back to her cabin.

            *            *            *

"Hi," David said softly. Denni's eyes fluttered as she sagged back
against her pillow, groaning. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm hung over," Denni said.

"We've never found a sedative that doesn't hang you up, Denni." He
reached down and placed his small hand on her broad chest. "Do you feel
up to resuming your duties?"

"No word on El?"

"We're taking a long shot and heading to Fahrenheit. We think that's
where Pasha's headed. Lance and Dave agree on the assessment. Ken's sent
a ship to meet us there."

"David... " Denni's eyes widened with fear.

"I know, hon. I know." He bent over and kissed his wife's cheek softly.
"We'll find her."

She rose up and grasped him, hugging him tightly and breaking into tears
again. David wrapped his arms around her and held her, waiting for her
to stop crying again. "Find our little girl, David. Please."

"We will," he promised. "Denni, please... take a shower, get cleaned up,
and join us on the bridge. We can't get anything done without you, you
know that."

She smiled a small smile, her black eyes glittering in the indirect
lighting of the Captain's cabin. She shifted slightly. "My tail was at a
funny angle." She grinned sheepishly.

"We'll find her," David repeated.

She nodded jerkily. "I know. I believe you, and I believe Granfa. I just
hate... not knowing."

David agreed. "Can I expect you on the bridge sometime soon?"

"Soon as I can."

"Good." He grinned, leaving her alone to pick herself out of bed and
into the shower. He made his way along the maze of corridors and
pathways until he reached the bridge, opening the door unceremoniously.
"Kurt, what's the status?"

"Ack, you startled me." The Pendorian navigator turned back to give
David a nod, then returned to his command board. "We're sixty-seven
hours out of Fahrenheit. Pasha has a thirteen hour lead on us, and he's
operating under a Hawkwind drive just as we are, but our cores are
better than his." David nodded. "We're going to catch him, David."

"Unless he burns his cores."

"Why would he even think about doing that?"

"Because his cargo is worth the cost," David said. "There's only one
reason to deal in slaves right now, Kurt, and that's for their taboo
value. Denni has only three uses. She's going to be an art piece, a sex
toy, or... " he shuddered. "Or Pasha knows a blood cult of mortality
that would easily pay for her. I used to think those kinds of people
existed only in movies. Now I know better." He sat down in his chair
and, balling up his right hand into a fist, supported his chin, propping
it up on his elbow. "I want my child back."

"We'll get her, David."

            *            *            *

The door to her cell opened again, and the huge human who had escorted
her and Spike to the Doc's walked in with a tray, grinning. Nobody was
with him, and the door closed behind him as he walked in. "Ho, so you're
Pasha's lovely prize, huh? I got a good look at you earlier." He placed
the tray down on the bed. "I'd love to get a piece of you before some
skeezer does."

"Go ahead and try," Gabrielle said defiantly.

The lumbering terran reached for her, and she dodged out of the way. But
his other arm came down and blocked her retreat, forcing her back onto
the bed. "Come on," he growled menacingly. "Give it to Mabig, you
Pendorian. Never had a Pendorian girl before." He reached up and pulled
at the pullover tunic Spike had given to her to cover herself after the
doctor's examination.

Gabrielle kicked at him, and he grabbed her legs instead and pulled them
apart, exposing her to him. He pulled her closer, until her sex was
centimeters from his groin. He reached for his zipper. "You're gonna
like this, girlie. It's gonna be like nothin' you've ever had before,
or'll ever have again."

He pulled out his erect penis, enormous in Gabrielle's eyes... and the
door to the cabin opened. "Tsk tsk tsk." The voice, clearly that of the
Uncia she had met before, chuckled softly. "Spike was right about you,
Mabig. You can't be trusted with the cargo." Gabrielle squirmed free of
the giant human's grasp, wedging herself further into the corner of the
cell. "Take him."

Five humans reached in and grabbed Mabig, hauling him into the
passageway outside Gabrielle's cell. Mabig fought violently, throwing
the men off of him several times, but soon they had him on his knees,
his wrists and his ankles cuffed together, then the two cuffs linked
with a ziptie. "Grab his head," the Uncia directed. Two of the men
reached for the human's head and held it in place while the Uncia
grabbed his hair and, with his left hand, fitted something over the
human's mouth. Mabig's eyes begged the captain, but no sounds came
clearly from the muffled mask that now completely obscured his face from
the bridge of his nose to form-fit about his chin. Straps all the way
around his head held it tight to his face. "To the airlock." The five
humans hauled the struggling and begging Mabig down the hallway a short
distance.

Nobody prevented Gabrielle from leaving her cell to follow them,
although the Uncia and several others noted her presence. She watched as
they placed now-screaming Mabig into the airlock, and then closed the
inner door, which was made of some transparent material. They left him
there, struggling, with a pipe leading from a coupling within the
airlock to a similar coupling on the faceplate of the mask that covered
Mabig's head. Gabrielle swallowed. She had an idea of what was about to
happen. "Do it," the Uncia said.

The Terran standing by the airlock controls nodded once, slowly, and
then touched a button with his hand. Gabrielle heard a soft >thump<
sound, and Mabig's body spasmed violently, seeming to cave in on itself.
Then the sounds of bones crackling, a man's final screaming and bodily
fluids gurgling managed to echo through the hallway. Gabrielle turned
away, not wanting to see anymore. The rest of the ritual went on without
a word from the crew. When it was over, two crewmen led her back to her
cabin and closed the door.

Shivering with cold delight, Pasha left the scene of Mabig's execution
feeling elevated. He loved how he felt just then, and he felt it so
rarely; strong, excited, aroused. His erection was painfully demanding
his attentions and he knew exactly how to give it what it, and he,
wanted. He made his way down to the 'cargo hold.'

He keyed open the door that led to the long passageway where the cargo
was kept in four separate rooms. He picked one room at random and threw
open the door. It was officially 'night' on the ship and the lights were
banked low. Despite this, several of the cargo were awake. Those that
were recoiled as he entered, and he scanned them for something to his
liking. He found what he sought.

She was tall, with strikingly pale skin and bright red hair. Here and
there on her naked body he could see those small reddish-brown speckles
some humans got after they were too long in the sun. She was
surprisingly muscular for a human, something from this red-headed stock
that he appreciated whenever he got his hands on one. "Come with me," he
growled, grabbing her by the shoulder and not giving her much of a
choice. She fought for a moment and then, resigned to her fate, followed
him with her head bowed as he pulled her along the passageways of the
ship to his cabin.

Inside, a four poster bed occupied the far left corner of the room, and
in the right a tub just large enough for one person. "Bathe," he
directed her, releasing her from his grip.

"Y...yes, yes sir."

"Good," he grinned maliciously. She felt the water in the tub, then slid
into the water easily, picking up a washcloth that he left besides the
the tub for occasions like this. She was soon scrubbing herself
completely clean, then climbed out and toweled herself off. "How do I
look, sir?" she asked.

"Lovely," he growled. "Kneel."

She knelt down on the ground before him as he sat on the bed. "Please
me," he ordered. "Come and apply your mouth to me. Do so well and I will
be kind to you."

She crawled forward as he spread his legs, unbinding his robe and
letting her handle his sex. He growled with satisfaction as he watched
her take all of his shaft down her throat, sucking on him with skill. He
slowly stroked her hair as his excitement grew.

"Enough!" he roared, shoving her away violently. He reached down and
closed his hand into a fist about her hair, pulling her onto the bed.
She screamed as he pushed her down onto her stomach and straddled her.
He looked down at his shaft rubbing against her buttocks, and with a
snarl pushed down and jabbed against her anus, tearing his way into her.
The girl screamed in pain as he battered her with his body. He tortured
her with his force, his fingers grabbing her about the chest and his
claws digging carelessly into the flesh of her breasts. Blood, her
blood, seeped around his fingertips and the scent of it filled his
nostrils as he approached his climax the only way he knew how, and as
his lust blinded him completely he closed his jaws on the back of her
neck and broke her spine. Every muscle in her body tightened
spasmodically, heightening his pleasure as he shot his semen into her
dying body.

Picking himself up from the bed, he clapped his hands together as if to
wipe them off casually. He looked down at the dead girl, her hair
splayed about on the bed in red whorls. He smiled. She was still
beautiful, even in death. It was was good, he thought, to be a real
Uncia.

He sighed quietly. Another one to clean up.

            *            *            *

Time passed. How much she didn't know or even care. Thoughts of Mabig's
death and the cold-bloodedness with which he was dispatched played in
her mind over and over. She no longer felt safe and secure; the Fleet
was only good if it knew where she was, and even she didn't know that.
She was on the ship of someone named 'Pasha,' and she figured that was
the Uncia who seemed to be giving orders to everyone.

She checked her food; it had long ago turned cold. She drank the soup
anyway, and ate at the bread, her Pendorian heritage reminding her that
she had to eat whether she liked it or not. The plastic pitcher of water
she drained completely. As she was placing the pitcher back on the tray,
the door to the cell opened again, and a human girl was pushed into her
cell without a word. The door closed again.

Gabrielle regarded her without a word. She was tall, thin, with tightly
curled black hair and medium-brown skin. She had a softly triangular
face with uniformly off-white teeth and a broad, flat nose. Gabrielle
thought her fascinating. "Hello?" Gabrielle tried.

"You speak Anglic?" the girl asked carefully.

"Yah," Gabrielle replied quickly. "My Dad taught it to me."

"You are a Pendorian!"

"Half-Pendorian," Gabrielle replied. "My father is a NeoRat."

The girl stared at her, looking for... what? Gabrielle returned the
stare evenly. "What's your name?" she asked finally.

"Patch," the girl replied unsteadily. "Patchmanee."

"Gabrielle. El."

Patch nodded. "Why... You must be his prize the crew was talking about.
There are many more cargo down in the holds."

"Many?"

"Twenty, I think."

Gabrielle blinked. The idea that Pasha had twenty captives enslaved in
the hold below was simply monstrous. "He is going to sell them?" Patch
nodded slowly.

Gabrielle had long been aware of slavers; her father had been approached
in the Free Empire several times with offers of "enormous profits," if
only he would move some "live cargo." Father had always resisted those
approaches easily, turning the offer down and, if he could, turning the
offerer over to the authorities. But twenty...! Unbelievable that Pasha
could have that many children in his holds. "How... how does he get
them? Don't people watch their children?"

"Not all are children," Patch replied quickly. "But all are young, and
all are poor, from Imperial colonies, like me. Their parents sometimes
lose them and then the pirates take them. There is much screaming and
crying, but the parents are given the right to try again when a child
dies or goes missing."

"That's it?" Gabrielle hissed, turning her back on Patch. "You're just
going to be... replaced?"

"Life is hard in some colonies. Not all people live to be a thousand,
Ella, or even to be a hundred. That death comes early for some is part
of accepting."

Gabrielle turned. "I don't accept anything, Patch. We're going to get
out of here."

"How?" Patch said, pointing to the door. "They watch us. They lock us
in. Nothing can save us. We are theirs until we die."

"Wrong, Patch. I'm mine until I die. And I'll show them."

            *            *            *

"Captain Elohim, so sorry that we had to meet under these
circumstances."

"Captain Argent, my sentiments as well."

"Don't worry, David. We'll catch these prags." Etta Argent, captain of
the Open Flight, poured him a large glass of tea. He accepted it.

"I just want my daughter back. Etta, you have no idea how weak I feel.
It was supposed to be just another Imperial trip. No danger involved."
He shook his head.

"It happens, David. We're here several hours before The Ice Mistress is
scheduled to leave hyperspace, and we'll be here when she does. Unless
he's obscenely lucky, we'll catch him."

"What about the other ship?"

"The Roadblock?" She leaned over and consulted her charts. "It headed
deeper into Imperial Space. We've got someone following it right now.
Unless Captain Osito does something stupid, we'll have him checked out
in a few minutes. You might want to know this, though. Captain Osito is
Sori Verre."

"The art thief?"

"One and the same. We finally tracked down his identity through a ranged
analysis of the photos Lance gave us."

"Not bad." A small chill ran up his spine. "Slaves are sometimes kept as
art objects."

"Not Verre. He's not that kind of art thief. He's never been a
MISFitter, and as far as I'm willing to bet, it's way out of his line of
work. We'll know one way or the other soon, though."

David nodded. "Captain?"

"Bridge? Report."

"We've just had a starship transit from hyperdrive. It came out real
close to the system. From the mass and characteristics, it's the Ice
Mistress."

"Damn," Etta swore. "He's early. He must be burning core."

"If his cargo is worth it, Etta, he can afford it."

Etta nodded. "To the bridge. I'll give you a station so you can call the
Success from here."

David nodded. "I appreciate that." They ran for the SDisk, and David had
trouble withholding a smile, remembering the days when he was Captain of
a Pendorian Fleet Vessel a dozen years ago. He cursed quietly. El had
been conceived on the voyage home from that trip.

"Take station five, David. Ensign, give it up. Okay, folks, it's
rus-and-ruddy time. All power banked?"

"We're down, captain. Using strictly impulsives for maneuvering, and
we're head-on to the Ice Mistress."

"Good," Etta smiled. "Let them get as close as they want to Fahrenheit
station. Let them get docked. Then we'll snag 'em."

            *            *            *

"Captain?"

Pasha turned in slight annoyance. "What is it?"

"You might want to have a look at this. Main screen?"

"It had better be worth it." He nodded. The screen blanked and was
replaced with a high-resolution picture of Fahrenheit Station, hovering
over the gas giant it mined for raw materials. "Fifth ship from the left
sir. Pointer."

"Yes, yes, I see it. What is it?"

"That's a Pendorian Gernsback-class starship sir. There's only one of
those floating around outside lPTU space, sir, and that's the *Rat's
Success*."

Pasha stared at the screen. "David Elohim," he sighed softly. "I've got
your daughter?" he said. "I didn't even know you had one. And you raced
me here to say hello, didn't you? Tell me, did you call your friends?
Probably." He rolled his hand into a fist and punched the comm button on
his command chair. "Engineering."

"Sir?"

"Do we have enough fuel to make a ninety-six light year jump?"

"Easily, sir. But we're taking a risk with the hyperdrive cores, sir.
Some of them threatened to melt the last time."

"We can afford to replace them. Get ready."

"Aye, sir."

"Comm," he ordered next.

"Comm here."

"Coded message, directed beacon. Prepare to drop. Standard package. You
know where to get the stats. And make sure you mention we've got a
particularly juicy one here."

"Yes, sir!" Comm replied. "Five minutes to compose the last."

"Navigation, I need a heading of..." he consulted his memory and his
charts. "Best possible course out of the gravity well."

"Plot laid in."

"Continue on present course." Pasha watched the clock tensely. Right on
schedule Comm called in. "Package ready, sir."

"Weapons. Drop beacon."

Nothing notable happened. Weapons announced, "Beacon dropped."

"Navigation, turn us around. Now. Full-bore the fusions."

"Aye, sir." The starfield on the main screen swung around, although
nobody on the ship felt anything.

            *            *            *

"Damn. What happened?" She hit her PADD. "Nav, give chase. Full speed.
Engineering!"

"You'll have full power, Captain. And maybe a little extra."

"Thank you."

The Open Flight lit up, every little source of acceleration blazing as
she gave chase to The Ice Maiden. Etta exploded angrily, "It's him. It's
got to be him! How did he see us?"

"He didn't," Dave growled softly. "He didn't see you at all, Etta. We
forgot one very important detail." He pointed at his display, not
dissimilar to the one Pasha had been staring at moments before. "There's
only one ship out here that looks like that."

Etta nodded tersely. "Damn."

"Sir!"

"Sensors?"

"Another ship on the screen. Radiating like it was eating black holes
for breakfast." He put it again on the main screen. "It's a Pendorian
Fleet Vessel, Shatner Class."

            *            *            *

"So you did call your friends, David," Pasha mused. "What are the odds
of it catching us?"

"Unlikely, sir. We're going to reach the one to ten thousand mark in
forty minutes. That ship will still be almost four light-minutes behind
us when we make transit."

"Thank you," Pasha growled appreciatively, leaning back in his chair.

            *            *            *

"We're not going to catch them. Not if they're willing to go at ten
thousand."

"What about guns? Anything on this ship faster than the ship itself?"

"Not that we can aim with any accuracy. We could fill the space around
them with energy weaponfire. But we want to take him out with accuracy,
David. Your daughter's on that ship."

David nodded. "I know."

"Sensors, I want every last piece of data on that ship that you can give
me. If someone flushes a toilet I want to know. We have to know where
they're headed."

"Yes, Captain."

David sat in his chair, eyeing the starchart with a mixture of
frustration and anger. "What were they doing here, if not for R&R."

Etta shook her head. "I have only one guess. A message drop. Their
course out system suggests that they're going to fly a light year or so
and then recalculate their course. We have no idea where they're going."
She leaned forward, her hands clasped together. "Maybe they were
dropping off information. Anton?"

The AI replied, "We recorded no transmissions from the enemy vessel.
There is, however, a peculiar behavior pattern to the vessel at one
point."

"Oh?"

"This is a linear graph of the ship's power curve versus acceleration
just prior to it's turning around and fleeing the star system. I want to
draw your attention to this." On the screen, several multiples of
magnification of an otherwise flat line showed a tiny increase in
acceleration just moments before the engines cut out. David examined it
carefully. "A glitch? A pre-maneuver power burst?"

"It's several seconds before the ship does any actual maneuvering,
suggesting something else. A loss of mass."

"He dropped something?" David asked. "What?"

"I don't know. But I suggest we take a look at where he was when the
drop occurred."

"It's the only option we have," David sighed.

            *            *            *

"You didn't tell me you were David Elohim's little girl," Pasha said
with cool satisfaction. "What a pleasure it is to have you, Gabrielle.
You're the rarest commodity in the universe, my dear, and you're going
to fetch me a very big price."

"Don't touch me," Gabrielle said, backing up into a corner. Patch stood
behind her, gripping her shoulders.

"I don't have to," Pasha growled softly. "You see, we're headed to a
little planetoid in Nowheressec that very few people know about. There,
we're going to sell you to the highest bidder. And I have in mind
someone very rich to be your ultimate buyer. In the meantime, you're my
guest. You very presence makes that little slut's life one step better
than those down in the cargo hold. Enjoy it while you can."

"My Father is going to kill you!" Gabrielle snarled.

"We just passed your father's ship at Fahrenheit. He didn't even move."

"I don't believe you!"

"I could show you the record, but there are no displays in here. Oh,
well, na coi," he smirked. It was the first time Gabrielle had heard
Pasha actually speak in Quen. "Don't fret a single strand, dear. We know
exactly where you're going, and we know exactly what's going to happen
to you when we get there." He swept out of the room, the door closing
behind him.

"Why does he keep coming in here?" Patch asked. "He never came down to
the cargo holds like that."

Gabrielle sighed softly. "He wants to see his prize. It's like an art
treasure; he's the only one in the Universe with one. I hate this!" She
seized a plastic water jug and threw it against the wall; it rebounded,
both jug and wall undamaged.

"Do you really think your father will come to rescue us?"

"Oh, Patch, I hope so," Gabrielle said, sitting on the bunk with her
knees folded up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. "I really
hope so."

            *            *            *

Eighteen hours since the departure of The Ice Mistress, David leaned
back in his chair on the command deck and said "Sometimes, luck favors
the heroes. Commander Wyle, I have a fast neutrino source."

"Coordinates?"

"At the navigator's station."

"Call Captain Argent to the bridge. Navigator, lay in those coordinates.
Hazardous electronics crew on full alert; this thing could be wired to
blow at approach."

Etta was on the bridge as the ship approached the source of the
neutrinos, a small semi-cylindrical object that was far too smooth to be
natural, above and beyond the fact that very few natural objects emitted
fast neutrinos. And most of those were stars. "HE? Are you there?"

"Right here, Captain." On the main screen, the two people assigned to
make the assault on the beacon had completed suiting up and were waiting
in one of the larger airlocks. Their suits were black as deepest space,
absorbing radiation across the spectrum. At present, both suits were
attached by tethers that bled the absorbed radiation away as
electricity; once free, it would be stored within the suit backpacks as
heat. They had a lifetime of less than an hour. Both crewfen were
humanoid, small of stature, and agile. Mustela Martens, David knew, were
the people most suited for this job. It was also one of the most
dangerous jobs space had to offer. Both were telepaths.

"Good luck. Go for it."

The two crewfen stepped out of the airlock and walked along the surface
of the ship's skin until they had clear line of sight with the object.
Their internal computers were using assumptions to gauge where they were
relative to their target; that no radiation leaked out of these suits
also prevented a great deal of radiation from getting in. Long range
sensors were generally useless. Most of their data was coming in through
their tethers.

The computers made more assumptions about the amount of power it would
take to reach the assumed location of the assumed target. On the
viewscreen, David watched as they bent their legs and jumped. The
tethers reached to nearly their limit, and then the two Martens vanished
off their screens. It would take them twenty minutes just to get to the
beacon.

Time ticked by. David cursed his affection for coffee; right now it was
only making him more nervous and jittery. He hated the sensation of
uselessness that overcame him. He wanted to be doing something right
now.

Something butted against his left thigh, and he looked down to see a
blue-black feline face staring back at him. "Hiya, Niaro."

"The two HE's should have just arrived in the beacon's locale. We'll
know very soon if they're going to make it," the Pamthreat replied.

David nodded. "It's just that I don't like waiting."

"There isn't much we can do except wait. We're really too close as it
is."

"I know."

Etta was starting to pace the bridge, David noted. "That's the problem
with circular bridges," Niaro said quietly, address both Etta and David.
"It gives the Captain room to pace in."

Etta grinned sheepishly. "I know. I've known that for a long time. But
they still build expansive bridges in the round."

"It's tradition," David said, shrugging. "I prefer the catwalk and
cockpit design myself."

"Yes, I noticed that," Niaro said. "Both of your ships had that."

"It keeps the crew on their jobs," he said.

"Captain!" The sensorwatch officer was pointing at the main screen. "I
have two intense IR sources at the target."

"Eddervil, I have a medical emergency," the voice came over the bridge
speakers. "Target disarmed... help."

"Get the shuttle out there," Etta barked. "Crack those suits if you have
to!"

This time David felt the soft ringing sound of a shuttle being launched
with emergency rails. "Engineering, I want that beacon in shuttlebay one
as soon as possible. Sickbay, prepare to receive casualties."

"Yes, Captain!"

"Come on, David. Let's see what we've fished out of the water." Etta led
David and Niaro to the SDisk. "Wyle, you have the bridge."

            *            *            *

"The beacon is a standard directed-beam communications beacon favored by
military and espionage outfits for private communications. It is,
predictably, somewhat antiquated, and easily broken by AIs with access
to quantum cryptography methods. The message is rather explicit, and
appears to be standardized."

"What does it say?" Etta asked.

"There is an express manifest of twenty four data records, each one
divided into several fields. Assuming this is a slave-trader vessel, I
can only guess that they are categorizations of the cargo for the
purpose of sale."

"Twenty four people!" Etta hissed. "Unbelievable. There's nothing you
can do to tell us what these fields mean?"

"I can make educated guesses. The data is easily divisible by four but
not by eight bits, which confused me at first. I believe the first
four-bit field is a three-bit racial code and a one-bit gender code. The
rest appears to be height, weight, perhaps some additional data that may
be race or gender specific considerations of appearance or health. If we
find the person who's responsible for receiving this data, we'll know
how to decode it properly."

Anton paused. "It's the last part that really gets me. It's explicit and
to the point. David, please sit down."

David did as the AI requested. "Okay, Anton, what does it say."

"'Special: We have one for the most daring out there. A Pendorian Mephit
Girl, no older than fourteen years. She is--' and then they include that
data trail, with the first three bits at zero-zero-zero and some later
data at zero as well. It goes on. 'A child of Vatare' Shardik himself.
Alert--' and then a 128 bit field that I assume breaks down into
numerical codes for some special buyers."

David hissed, his fingers gripping the slick material of the conference
room chair. He finally released the chair. "They've got my little girl."

"Anton, is there any evidence that the beacon had released its message?"

"No, Captain. It is scheduled to do so twelve hours from now."

"At Fahrenheit?"

"Yes."

Etta punched buttons on her station at the conference table.
"Engineering, I need the Ramar ready to go as soon as you can manage."

"Five minutes?"

"Make it so. Come on, David. We're going to find your little girl. Can
your ship take a forty-ton shuttlecraft?"

"Easily," David said.

"Call them. They're to expect a large party." She counted in her head
quietly. "Twelve security officers, you, me, and four Pamthreats."

David nodded. "Party of eighteen."

"And then meet me in Shuttlebay One again."

"Three four-man security teams," Etta explained. "All fully Stark
sevened out. The two martens are fine, by the way," as she piloted the
Shuttlecraft towards Fahrenheit. "One's going to be a couple of days
recovering from overheat, but she'll pull through with nothing but bad
memories. You know Niaro and Fari, I think. These two are Kei and
Shasti."

David blinked, looking down at Kei. "How do you do?" he said.

*I'm fine, thanks,* the Pamthreat replied telepathically. Over two
meters in length from nose to haunches, the black big-cat sat down on
her four rear legs folded back and looked around the cabin casually.

"Am I supposed to think back at you?" David asked.

*It's considered rude if you do. I'm sorry, I'm just very used to
talking this way.*

"Understood," David replied. "You're named after some sort of legend,
aren't you? Is Shasti your sister? Or do I have my mythology confused?"
David glanced over at the fourth Pamthreat, who despite the feminine
name was the largest he had ever seen, nearing three meters in length,
if that was possible.

*You're half-right. I'm supposed to have a sister according to the
legend, but Shasti is not her. She's merely a friend. And she doesn't
speak at all.*

David nodded. "I'm grateful for you coming along."

Kei turned her head to one side, looking thoughtful. *Nobody has ever
gotten away with kidnapping a Pendorian, and nobody is going to start
now. I want this prag as much as you do. Maybe more. I know it's your
daughter, David, but you have to consider that when my sister was alive,
I had a different name. You see, David-- Kei looked up at David and
smiled. People once called me Karri.*

David gaped, then recovered, saying, "We both want him."

*Dead, preferably.*

"We're ready, Captain. My people have moved through the station in full
Stark... great camouflage that stuff is capable of."

"I have the acquiescence of the station command," Etta replied calmly.
"He was most helpful."

Denni grinned. Extortion and bribery, more the former than the latter,
is what she would prefer to call Etta's "acquiescence." Still, it had
worked. The commander would stay out of the way as long as the
Pendorians didn't damage Fahrenheit station.

"The message will hit Fahrenheit station right around now."

"It's on the target board, Etta," Lance replied.

Second crawled. So much of space combat is sensory work, just waiting
for the right moment. Finally, though, Kei announced, *I've got him.
Human. He's on a ship attached to the second ring.*

She and Shasti left the bridge and headed out into the base, while Etta
radioed her security teams and told them where on the second ring Kei
and Shasti were headed. David glanced over Etta's shoulder and was
surprised to see himself a precise map of the station with a direct and
accurate pointer to the Pamthreat's location.

"Captain?" a voice came over the radio that David didn't recognize. It
sounded slightly flat and hollow.

"Yes, Shasti, what is it?"

"We are approaching the vessel. Kei insists it is a small newscoll's
ship titled Post-Intelligence. Here come the security officers."

"Captain, we are assembled outside the Post-Intelligence. What are your
orders?"

"Take prisoners," Etta said quietly.

"Yes, Captain."

Down on Ring Level Two, Lt. Ngyen, a tall melSatryl who's favorite
weapon was a sword, gestured with a pistol to his partner to put on a
helmet and follow him to the airlock coupling. Kei stayed in the
station, but Shasti followed them. Ngyen toggled the intercom.

"Yeah, who's this?"

"Station security. We need to discuss something with the Captain of this
vessel. Could you come to the airlock, sir?"

"Eh?" Silence. Ngyen waited. "Sure, sure. Give me a second."

More than a second passed when Ngyen heard the roar of fusion drives
echoing through the station. The radiation counter on his suit went
berserk. "He's trying to take off!" They ran for the airlock and escaped
into the station, the door closing behind them. "Where's Shasti?" the
ensign Ngyen had paired with asked. Ngyen looked around in panic. "I
don't know! Didn't she leave the airlock?"

Ngyen glanced back in horror at the airlock door, now slammed shut. The
Post-Intelligence was pulling away from Fahrenheit without regard for
the residents, splashing hot exhaust all over the outside shell. If it
hadn't been for his suit, Ngyen would have been more worried. As it was,
the unprotected residents were going to be taking radiation treatments
for months.

"Captain! The Post-"

"We know, Lieutenant. It's not a problem."

"But, but, Shasti-"

"I know, Lieutenant."

In the evacuated airlock the Pamthreat looked around, scanning her
surroundings. With a jump, she leapt onto the door of the Post-
Intelligence, affixing herself to the material of the ship easily. She
walked up the side of the accelerating ship, holding on. She knew that
her present mode of ambulance would bring her to the attention of the
ship's crew pretty quickly. It didn't matter. She walked up onto the
upper deck of the vessel, still scanning rapidly; motion to her left
indicated an antipersonnel weapons pod. She stared at it hard and it
broke free of its mounting in a yellowish haze of melting metal. Another
pod moved and the same effect. A third motion; she registered that as a
sensor and ignored it.

Her senses expanded to encompass as much of the ship as possible, and
slowly she catalogued the insides of the vessel The Post-Intelligence.
She found the spot she was looking for, typically well-protected, and
walked until she was almost immediately over it. She stared down at the
metal plating, feeling the plates within her body shift to protect her
vital components from the intense radiation she was about to generate.
Circuits went off-line, power to some sections went dead. A timer on the
fusion plant was set, and her eyes began to glow.

The metal at her feet began to glow, pulsing with hot white intensity.
The stream of particles emanating from her eyes became visible just from
interacting with the particles of interstellar hydrogen and vaporized
aluminum and titanium floating away. The drilling effect became more and
more pronounced as the beam became brighter and brighter, digging deeper
into the power core of the Post-Intelligence.

Unnoticed, a suited man shape emerged from the airlock Shasti had
occupied moments before, armed with a heavy laser rifle. He took aim at
the unmoving Pamthreat and fired. The laser bounced harmlessly off the
felroids's reflective skin, hidden under the layer of artificial fur. He
fired again, and again, carefully aiming for the feet, the head,
anywhere there might be a soft spot. He continued firing until his
engines died. Cursing, he retreated into the ship.

Hard-coded instructions on chips made with technology a millennia old
gave orders to circuits with the knowledge of how to read physical data
transcribed on optical records. The cube scanned by six lasers wrote
back information into the more sensitive memory zones of the security
feldroid. Examining her work, she looked down at the hole. Adequate for
her requirements, she registered that she had been shot several times
with an energy weapon, none of which had done much beyond cosmetic
damage.

"Captain Argent, this is Shasti Seccor."

David smiled up at his wife. Etta keyed a button at the station. "Go
ahead, Shasti."

"The Post-Intelligence isn't going to be going anywhere soon. Its drives
are defunct. I was fired upon by an unknown source while I was firing my
main weapon, but no damage was done."

"Good enough. We were worried about you."

"I await your retrieval."

Etta nodded. She said, "David, if you would be so kind?"

"Of course, Etta. Denni, it's your shift."

"Mr. Duran?" Denni barked across the bridge. "Advise Fahrenheit station
that we will be taking flight as soon as possible. Please see to it that
the security team from Open Flight is on board before we depart."

"My team is completely on board, minus Shasti, of course."

"We're free of the couplings, Captain."

"Best possible speed, Kurt," Denni replied. The Rat's Success headed on
an intercept course for the Post-Intelligence, while Etta directed the
Open Flight to the same course of action.

An hour later, the Post-Intelligence was sitting in the Pendorian Fleet
Vessel's open hold, her guns having been systematically dismantled by
Shasti during the wait. "We know you're in there, Dioche. We also know
that you're the only person on board, according to your manifest. Our
sensors indicate that there are two humans on board. Now, I recommend
you both come out of there or I'm going to send a team in after you."
Etta smiled to herself. She turned to David and said, "We have to hope
he's immortal enough to not commit suicide. But I don't think we're
going to have much problem."

They didn't wait long. The airlock opened up and one figure crawled out,
a tall, thin human with a pale brown mustache and goatee. David thought
he looked gaunt and underfed. "Okay, okay!" the human shouted. "I give
up!"

"Security, take him. Now that the door is opened, send a detail to
examine the inside of that vessel. Find the other human."

The security team hauled the human over to where Etta and Denni stood,
watching the proceedings with amusement, but also with anger. Etta
smiled a dark and evil smile. "Okay, Dioche. Where's the meeting taking
place?"

"Meeting? What meeting?"

"The meeting that's taking place at two eighteen by thirteen, ninety-six
light years from Fahrenheit," Kei replied. "That meeting."

Dioche looked stunned, then finally broke. "Okay, okay, I'll tell. I'll
tell!" He started babbling; Etta found his narrative alternately
disgusting and fascinating; so fascinating, in fact, that she failed to
notice the medical team that had entered the hold until they were
running past her on their way out, a femKatckin on their stretcher.

"Captain and Mrs. Elohim, would you like to accompany the Open Flight on
a short jaunt?"

David smiled. "We have Ohadi drive, Captain Argent. We appreciate the
offer."

"Ohadi, yes," Etta said casually. "But you don't have Crowley."

David's eyebrow lifted, his tail whipping into a question mark.
"Crowley?"

"How does a factor of ten catch your attention?"

Denni interjected, "Absolutely I want to go with you people!"

"I guess that's it," David said.

"Security!" Etta barked. "Please escort this man to holding cell
thirty-three." She glanced across the hold where airlock thirty-three
was clearly labled as such. Even Dioche recognized it for what it was as
the security detail hauled him towards it. Screaming, he was thrown into
it and the inner door closed behind him. And then he explored the final
frontier without benefit of life support.

            *            *            *

Pasha was simply ecstatic. He had even foregone his usual intake of
stimulants for fear of bouncing off walls and hurting himself. Half of
the people he had hoped would come had arrived early, and already he had
offers for the little Mephit that exceeded 200 Meu. In most cases,
agents of the purchasers rather than the purchasers themselves had come,
but that was of no consequence to Pasha. He smiled to note that many of
the agents' behavior suggested an 'at all costs' attitude towards buying
the girl.

Turning out the light in his office, he made his way down to the
coupling and out into Gustateron Station, once one of the largest
starships to ever sail through space, now reduced to a supporting role
as a pirate's space station in Nowheressec. Finding one of the working
monorails, he boarded and took it to the auction room, where slaves
gathered by the various shippers had been brought to be sold.

Long one of the few who dealt only in slaves, of the one hundred and
fifty here he was personally responsible for but a small fraction of
them these days. But still, what he brought had quality. And in the
center of the darkened room, under a blare of spotlights, Gabrielle
Elohim slept quietly in the red ring painted on the floor that defined
her cage. He stepped into the ring and knelt down, brushing her fur back
with his hand. She stirred restlessly, moaning in her sleep. He found
her innocence and vulnerability almost irresistible. His hand slipped
down along her body, caressing the curve of her youthful buttocks.

Pain seared his thigh and he reared back, screaming, tumbling out of the
ring. "Damn you, bitch!" he snarled, looking into the ring where
Gabrielle knelt on hands and knees, blood dripping from her jaws. She
spat, and a gory mass of his own flesh bounced along the floor towards
him. She stood up and leaned against the pinpoint force fields that held
her in the ring. "I'll kill you myself if my father doesn't do it."

"Your father," Pasha sneered, holding his leg where she had torn out
what he perceived as a huge chunk of his thigh. "Your father is never
going to find you. Do you see those slaves? They muster maybe fifty,
sixty thousand Exchange Units each. I've sold nearly a thousand, and
they each disappeared from a colony somewhere. Nobody's ever caught me
before or yet. You, my dear, are already worth two hundred mega EUs. Do
you know how much protection I can buy with that?"

"Not enough!" Gabrielle yelled.

"We'll see," he replied. "We'll see, Gabrielle Shardik."

"Better see to that scratch," she smirked. "I might be rabid."

Pasha grinned at that quietly. "You're a fighter. I'll make sure they
hear about this. The bidding will simply get even more frenzied. You
don't understand, do you? We have six days left before the last of the
bidders get here, and you're already worth a quarter billion creds.
Things can only get better from here." He limped out slowly. "Enjoy your
stay."

----------------------
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik 
and Related Tales.

The entire archive of stories can be found at:
http://www.pendorwright.com/journals

Copyright 2006 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.
Distributed under the Creative Commons License BY-ND-NC/1.0
Some Rights Reserved. 

Elf's latest stories are available in paperback!  Buy 
the genderbending novel _Sterlings_, available
now from http://stores.lulu.com/elfsternberg

--

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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