There’s no shame in not being the leader of the triad – when three warriors are Bonded, body, soul and mind, the concept is meaningless. The head, for example, is the ‘leader’ of the body – but the arms, legs and torso are no less important.
But that changes when there’s a disagreement – a split with strategy, or purpose.
It’s rare – but it does happen…
…but not today.
I lower my voice, and nod respectfully at Evander. I don’t have any additional experience in flight combat to base my argument on, and there’s no reason I can argue that selling the Reaver was a mistake.
“Who needs a Reaver?” Conan scoffs. “We’ll have access to the auction. We can kill every man inside, and free the women ourselves.”
His eyes flash, and I can see in them the vision in his head. I imagined laying wreckage to the Amphitheatre from above. Conan is imagining activating his Orb-Blade and bringing blood and vengeance to the occupants from within.
I know he means well, and we three are probably the most formidable hand-to-hand warriors in this planet, but even he must know that option would be suicide.
Even if we survived slaughtering the slave traders, we’d be painting a target on our backs for the rest of the planet’s criminal elite. We might be invincible in hand-to-hand combat, but even my Orb-Scimitar is no defense against a laser-blast in the back, or a bomb hidden in our hotel penthouse.
We can’t afford to do that – not on the first day that we land on this planet.
Evander clearly thinks the same way. He shakes his head.
“No. We need them to trust us. We’ll purchase a woman tonight to ensure it – to show them that we’ve truly turned out backs on the teachings of the Empire. First, we gain their trust. Then, we can put the knife in their backs.”
His wisdom is undeniable – and yet his plan sits poorly with me.
Betrayal. Subterfuge.
Strategies the Aurelian Empire would scorn.
An icy shudder runs down my spine as I imagine committing the ultimate taboo – of buying a human woman. Slavery is abhorrent to me – as it is to all who uphold the teachings of the Empire…
…or, in our case, used to.
But we’ve never tasted the sweetness of their species. Aurelians are all born male, and the idea of the soft curves of the fertile species drives us mad with desire.
I am no different, and I know my battle-brothers are no different. The temptation would be dangerous. Buying a slave – even if we justify is as ‘subterfuge’ – is a dangerous line to cross.
One we might not be able to step back from.
We came to Reena to dominate the planet – to cleanse it of slavers and their ilk…
…but the dark realization in my mind is that if we’re near the soft, supple flesh of a curvy, wide-hipped human woman…
…maybe none of us will be able to resist the temptation to claim her.
If that happens, I’ll become as bad as the men I’ve vowed to kill.
I might take her and make her mine…
…but I’d lose myself in doing so.
7
Ashley
Danielle shivers next to me. At a glance, you’d be mistaken for thinking she’s trembling with pleasure – but I know the truth.
Oh, don’t I know it – because I’m wearing the same kind of pleasure dress as she is.
These gowns are the most exquisite torture device ever created – and clearly by a darkly-perverted man. Even on the lowest setting, I feel a combination of horror – disgusted at the thought of what awaits me, and yet unable to dampen the ugly burning lust crawling over every inch of skin that this fabric touches.
The pleasure dress is vibrating inexorably – tingling and teasing even the most sensitive areas of my body. My nipples are like bullets. My thighs tremble. Even worse, there’s nothing I can do to turn it off – and if someone buys me, or should I say when somebody buys me, then they’ll have the controls.
But there’s something worse than this faceless, slave-trading stranger having the keys to my tortuous arousal.
They’ll also own my body – tangibly, in accordance with the twisted and backward laws of his world.
I have a terrible feeling that whoever buys me will be far less willing to just watch and enjoy me from afar, like my former owner. Peter was a disgusting scoundrel – but at least he never touched me against my will.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper to Danielle, trying to sound bold and confident.
She’s two years older than me, at twenty-two years of age, but right now I feel like she’s my little sister – trembling and terrified. She looks over at me with a hopeless look in her huge, glistening eyes – revealing that she doesn’t believe my words.
I can’t blame her. Nor do I.
But she stops trembling, at least. Danielle nods, and I feel a tiny sense of control returning to me. My reassurance gave her strength, and that was reflected back in me.
Nodding, I turn to the glass windows.
We’re flying through the air – high above the landscape of Reena. The sleek ship we’re passengers in is built like an Old-Earth limousine – one of the wheeled vehicles like the ones I’ve seen in the old two-dimensional holo-clips from ancient celluloid. It’s long, thin, and normally carries party-goers in the back.
In fact, we must look like party-goers to the untrained eye. All twenty of women are dolled-up in finery, and the only reason there aren’t sobs from the terrified girls is because the young slave called Katherine cried once, ruining her make-up, and she was promptly led away by Peter’s henchmen.
She was brought back a short while later and didn’t say a single word about what had happened to her.
She was no longer crying, though. Not because she didn’t still have good reason to – but because she looked too terrified to