Now, it’s just me and Brennan.
One Aurelian or a hundred, it probably doesn’t matter. I’d have about as much chance of overpowering Brennan and escaping as I would fighting against an army.
Unless…
Unless, maybe – just maybe – I could get hold of his Orb-Blade, from where it dangles at his belt.
If I could grab that, I could use it against him…
…if I could even figure out how to activate it.
But more – only if I had the guts to kill him with it.
I look at the magnificent, towering warrior – as sleek and sculpted as a marble statue. I couldn’t kill him, no more than I could any great work of nature. Not that I’d ever killed anything before – not in my sheltered upbringing in my father’s estate.
My shoulders slump. I turn and walk back towards the sleeping bags, my head hung low. I feel utterly dejected. My situation seems increasingly hopeless.
This is far from the safehouses of the crime families and corporations of Marn – where kidnapped victims are kept in relative luxury while they await the ‘business’ to be settled.
Yet, paradoxically, I somehow feel safer in this abandoned factory – surrounded by those three Aurelian warriors – than I did in my own home, surrounded by those hulking Sentinels.
We’re in an abandoned, industrial slum sector of the city. There could be squatters, junkies, cutthroats or criminals lurking in the factory above us – or even just wild animals, like Marn’s infamous beasthogs. Those tusked scavengers keep a distance from the city’s borders – but they’ll encroach into the abandoned sectors eventually.
It doesn’t matter. Not even a herd of beasthog, or a drug den full of junkies, could present a threat to a triad of Aurelian warriors. They’d have a death wish to even try – so, if there are reprobates or ravenous animals upstairs, they’re probably keeping a wide distance from us.
I might be the prisoner of these three towering aliens, but I know I’ll be protected by them. They’d fight to protect me – because I’m their property, rightfully kidnapped.
The only thing I have to be scared of in the captivity of these Aurelians is them – the hungry look they get in their eyes whenever they look at me…
…and yet, I believe Brennan when he promised he wouldn’t let anything happen to me – and I’ve seen how hard they resist the urge to satisfy their lust for me.
Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome – an Old-Earth disorder, in which captives developed feelings of trust and even affection for their captors – but as I crawl into the sleeping bag, I feel a strange sense of reassurance to be here now, with them.
These three Aurelians might not be the best kidnappers on Marn…
…but I’ll bet they’re the three most dangerous men on this planet.
I snuggle into the sleeping bag. It seems to be Aurelian Military issue, like the tent/toilet. As a result, the sleeping bag is designed for Aurelian-sized occupants – seven-feet-tall, five-hundred pounds, and as huge and muscular as a bull.
The sleeping bag swallows me up whole.
I’m not sure what it’s made of, but for military hardware, it’s surprisingly comfortable. The sleeping bag seems designed for long-term use – perhaps during months-long campaigns far from the luxurious feather beds that the Aurelian home world of Colossus has probably made most of their kind used to.
To me, this sleeping bag is as comfortable as a feather bed. I can’t even tell that I’m on a hard, dank, concrete floor.
I roll over and peek through the mouth of the sleeping bag at Brennan.
Behind him, I can see Otho lugging down a duffel bag of supplies. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he lunks the bag onto the floor with a thud, and leaves. I guess he’s ferrying in the supplies while Brennan stands watch over me.
Once Otho has left, I work up the courage to break Rule One – no speaking.
Wriggling my head out of the sleeping bag, I ask: “Brennan. Why do you want my father’s Orb-Material mines so badly?”
I know talking is a risk. Brennan warned me to shut up already, and Otho forced me to earlier, with that ball gag. The gag is still around here somewhere – and if I piss one of these Aurelians off, it would be barely an inconvenience for any of them to shove that gag back between my teeth again.
The feeling of that thing intruding in my mouth was more humiliating than even being spanked was. It filled my mouth with drooling saliva. It forces my tongue to swirl around that ball-shaped, rubbery gag. It made me think…
…it made me think of those straining erections I’d seen in Brennan and Otho’s pants. It made me think of how much bigger, and thicker those outlines seemed than the huge ball that had stretched my mouth open.
I shake my head. I need to focus with my brain, not my heart – or that place between my thighs which throbs in time to my racing heart.
I take a gulp and think.
These three Aurelians arrived on Marn and rented the most luxurious penthouse in the city – but now, they’re willing to hide out in an abandoned factory instead, for what could be weeks.
What does that mean? What clues does it give me?
It suggests these Aurelians aren’t a crime family, like those that run the black market on Marn. Nor are they wealthy businessmen, like the executives of the corporations who run the mostly-legal side of things on this planet. If they were, these three Aurelians would have found a way to remain in luxury – or at least comfort – during the weeks ahead.
But this is all conjecture on my part. The common perception of Aurelians is that they’re sophisticated degenerates – idling in togas and feather beds
