Okay, so there are a few things I want to have happen in Lucky 13, I have the ending all scripted out and a few other key scenes, but I need help getting there. I don't want to rush their relationship, but also don't want to do a play-by-play of all of their dates. Besides it's been nearly a decade since I've gone on an "early in the relationship" date and I hardly remember how they go.
So my question for you all - what do you want to see from James and Emma?
I can't promise to incorporate it all, but I'd love some direction. I guess I'm just a little blocked right now and need some inspiration. Help!
And THANKS!
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Aurora - Part 17
Are you going to ask him to stay? The question was ricocheting like a
boomerang around Aurra’s mind. Why was this a question at all? The facts were
still all the same. Garran had no official identity, no relatives or friends he
trusted, potentially no access to his money though most of it was in numbered
accounts and should not have been seized at his ‘death’. And she still wanted
him. She still very much wanted to pick up where they had been so rudely
interrupted. So why the doubt?
Was it
because if he stayed it would now likely be for an indefinite period? Because
if they carried on from their encouraging start, was it likely they would
become permanent partners? Was she ready and prepared to be a wife again? Or
what if in two years or three or four Doc found a way to undo Garran’s
paralysis, would he then leave her behind because she had always only been the
second best alternative?
From what
Garran had told her, it didn’t sound like settling down with a woman had ever been
part of his life plans. Especially if settling down meant a nomadic existence
like hers? If he stayed, would he come to resent her for the circumstances that
trapped him even though they were completely beyond her control?
She heaved
herself out of the pilot chair after checking the auto-pilot. Leaden tiredness
was spreading through her limbs once again. She had been up for nearly thirty hours now, twelve
since Garran had sped away from her in front of the medical bay and disappeared
into his cabin.
She walked
into the crew lounge, grabbed a prepared meal out of the cold store and stuck
it into the micro to heat it up. DF would have done it for her, but he wasn’t
around and Aurra was not one to sit idle and wait for him to return to be
waited on. He didn’t work regular shifts anyway, just prepared meals for them
to pick up whenever they felt like it, but as she had come to know he spent
most of his waking time in the galley or with Jason, sometimes both combined.
They two of them had become fast friends and Aurra suspected they were on their
way to becoming more. Quiet and geeky Jason and the older, but almost painfully
inexperienced DF seemed to complement each other perfectly.
The micro
dinged and Aurra pulled out the food. She settled at the table just as DF
walked into the lounge carrying a tray.
“Hi Aurra.”
Aurra
nodded in acknowledgement through a mouthful of food.
He sat the
tray on the table. It had several uneaten items of food on it. “I wanted to
bring Garran some food. He hasn’t eaten anything in over twenty hours, but he
sent me away.”
Aurra
couldn’t help but smile. “Are you keeping taps on all our eating habits, DF?”
“I … I, no
…, I don’t, I mean…” A blush was creeping over his cheeks.
“DF, you
are not doing anything wrong. I think it’s amazing you are taking such good
care of all of us. It’s just not something we are used to.”
DF
shoulders slumped in relief. Aurra knew he still felt terribly unsure of his
place within the crew and was afraid to be sent away or worse to be sold into
slavery again.
“I think
you have all of us wrapped around your little finger with your cooking. Don’t worry;
we will never make you go.”
“Thank you
Aurra.” He mumbled, now clearly embarrassed about the praise.
Aurra
focused on her food again, but DF still hovered.
“Can I ask
you something?”
Aurra
nodded.
“Garran
shouted at me—through the door—do you know what I did to upset him?”
Aurra put down
her fork. “Have a seat, DF.” Once he had pulled out a chair and sat she
continued. “You didn’t do anything to him. He’s had some very bad news from
Doc. He’s just upset about that. He’s not angry with you.”
“Oh.” A
frown appeared on his face. “I also had some bad news from Doc, but I didn’t
shout at anyone.”
“Really? Do
you mind telling me?”
“My
failsafe—it can’t be removed.”
“Hmm. I
imagine that must be discouraging, but I assure you we would never ever use it
against you.”
DF smiled
sadly. “I believe you, but it just means that I will never be truly free. Jason
has promised to find a way to deactivate it though, so that it cannot be set off
remotely like the one that almost went off inside Garran’s body.”
“That is
great, DF. Jason is very good at what he does. If there is a way, I am sure he
can figure it out.” She picked up her fork again and put another bite of the delicious meal into her mouth.
“So what
bad news did Doc have for Garran?”
She chewed while considering whether to answer the question. Doc had
said that Garran had given permission to inform the crew. Obviously Doc hadn’t
shared the news yet; neither had she.
“Doc can’t
treat Garran’s paralysis. He won’t be able to walk again.”
DF was quiet for a moment, a thoughtful
expression on his face. “Has Garran been doing a good job so far?”
Aurra was
perplexed. “Yes, he has. Why do you ask?”
“So he
doesn’t need to be able to walk to do his job?”
“Not his
current job, no.”
“Do you want him to be able to walk?”
Aurra
swallowed hard at the question. How could she answer that? If she was really totally
honest with herself, then no, she didn’t want him to walk. She wanted him just
like he was. But what would DF or Doc or the rest of the crew think if she ever expressed that sentiment? Suddenly she realized what her earlier hesitation and
uncertainty had been about. If Garran stayed she would have to tell him how she
felt about him and how his physical impairments added to the attraction instead
of detracting from it.
She
contemplated answering with a politically correct I don’t mind if he can’t walk, but she couldn’t form the words.
Finally she just shook her head, her gaze lowered.
“You like
him, don’t you?”
Aurra
sighed. Had she been that obvious? “Yes. I like him, but why are you asking me
all these questions?”
“He likes
you, too, you know. I think he’s scared now you won’t like him anymore. Maybe
you should tell him that he doesn’t have to be able to walk to live up to your
expectations.” DF pushed away from the table and took the tray into the galley,
leaving a stunned Aurra behind.
***
Garran sat
up in his bed. Damn he really needed to use the bathroom. He had eventually taken
the sleeping pill that Doc had given him when for hours he had not being able
to quieten the thoughts racing through his mind.
DF’s
persistent knocking had woken him and he hadn’t meant to be rude to DF, but he
was neither hungry nor in the mood for company. But now he wished he had just
let DF come in, leave the food and fetch the wheelchair from the opposite wall.
Garran reached for his phone contemplating to call Doc to ask him for help. Yeah, sure. Commander Garran Raulsten,
decorated for bravery a few times over, was too scared to work his way across
the room to retrieve his own damn wheelchair.
He could
feel the anger about his situation starting to churn in the pit of his stomach
again. He put the phone away before the urge to throw it after the wheelchair
grew too strong to suppress. He pulled the blanket away from his legs and once
again the sight of a stump in place of his lower left leg caught him off guard.
It surprised him how he could forget about the amputation. But would he ever be
able to come to accept the paralysis? Get beyond the gut-churning anger and
feeling of unfairness?
He lifted
his right leg over the side of the bed and pushed himself all the way to the
edge. He reached for the floor and then let himself slip down. Stretching
himself out flat, he reached for the chair but it was still just beyond his
grasp. His flat hand hit the floor in annoyance then he elbow crawled the two
paces to cover the distance. He levered himself into the chair, relief
temporarily replacing fury.
What would
Aurra have thought of this pathetic little spectacle? The thought struck him
cold. What a sorry, pitiful sight he must have been. All of his six foot five
stretched out flat on the floor, dragging a paralyzed leg and a half behind. He
would die of embarrassment if she ever caught him in a situation like this.
Would she ever kiss him again? Would she even consider asking him to stay? And would he have the courage to stay if she asked him to?
Aurora - Part 18
Would she ever kiss him again? Would she even consider asking him to stay? And would he have the courage to stay if she asked him to?
Aurora - Part 18
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Aurora - Part 18
Tyr
followed Rag and Baldr back into that weird torture chamber they had been in
the day before. No one else was around. A square of tatami mats had been set up,
demarcating the area on which his sparring match would take place. Rag and
Baldr knelt down on opposite corners while Tyr walked around the room
exploring.
After a
brief visit with the doctor this morning, he had spent most of the day in the
gym located on the same level as the bedroom he shared with Rag and Baldr. The
two had turned out to be congenial though not very talkative. They seemed as
curious about him as he was about them, but something—fear maybe—seemed to hold
them back. Tyr had a hunch that Flavia had ordered communication be kept to a
minimum and sanctions, as he knew, could be severe.
The trip to
the doctor had brought no surprising revelations except that, as Flavia had
predicted, the amputation wound was already completely healed. The scar was red
and raised, but the pain was gone. The mirror held up for him also revealed the
scars on his head and when Tyr had asked about the amnesia the doctor had only
said that this wasn’t unusual after a traumatic brain injury. But since his
brain had healed so nicely, the doctor had added, his memory would surely soon
return. Somehow the doctor’s words hadn’t rung true.
First thing
back upstairs Tyr had asked Rag to cut his hair—not that Baldr, blind though he
was, could have made the situation any worse, but it almost physically hurt him
to have the rest of his long hair cut short. But half of it was already gone
anyway—and with only one hand he couldn’t braid it to keep it out of his face. Surprisingly,
Rag had called someone else. The man, similarly tall and well-built as the
others, had introduced himself as Vali. He hadn’t done a half bad job; and even
though he hadn’t cut it brutally short, it didn’t look quite as lopsided as
before. Tyr checked his reflection in the broad, gleaming blade of a halberd.
Not too bad at all.
He stopped behind
a rack containing a large number of short weapons. Combat knives, throwing
knives and stars, kunai and sai, daggers, dirks, switchblades and straight
razors, an overall impressive collection.
Toward the bottom of the rack several
sets of throwing blades were stored in strap-on holsters. He picked up one and
holding it in his teeth he pulled the velcro apart. Surprisingly, neither Rag
nor Baldr seemed to be disturbed by the noise. Hidden from Rag’s view as he
currently was, Tyr pulled up the leg of the hakama he wore and strapped the
holster around his lower left leg. Fortunately velcro was something he could
manage fairly easily with his one hand. If his luck held he might be able to spirit
them away. Tyr was sure that there were surveillance cameras everywhere. The
question was, however, would someone be looking at what he was doing?
He didn’t
need the blades for the upcoming fight, but he wanted to have a weapon he could
conceal easily, one that gave him a degree of range and could double as a tool
when necessary. The throwing blades were ideal.
He
continued his circuit around the room. Together with the hakama, he wore a top
that was styled similar to a traditional kataginu with its wing-like, overcut
shoulders over long tight sleeves—well, one long and one short sleeve. Flavia
truly had a flair for the dramatic, having him dress up like an ancient samurai
warrior. But the top was in fact more than just decorum. With its soft, padded
leather with integrated guards and cinches it was comfortable and would provide
him with a good amount of protection from his opponent’s attacks. Like every
other piece of clothing he’d been given, it had been tailored to fit him
perfectly and enclosed his right arm snugly without being constricting.
Tyr rotated
his shoulders. From what he’d figured out so far, today’s fight was more a
gauge of his abilities than a true contest of dominance. Having been given the
choice of weapon, he had opted for the hanbo, a medium length staff, just under
a meter long. At a double disadvantage because he had lost his dominant hand,
he needed a weapon that he could also manipulate with his remaining upper arm.
After
trying out several different weapons, he had decided that the hanbo worked best;
mostly because it wasn’t too heavy. At his suggestion, Vali, who seemed to
double as the resident tailor, had added a leather loop to the inside of the shortened
right sleeve through which Tyr could slip the hanbo while holding it under his
armpit which gave him a reasonable degree of control over the weapon. Some more
time to practice would have been good though.
Training in
the gym earlier in the day had brought back some of his lost memory. He had
remembered many, many other gym sessions; weights and machines, but mostly
hand-to-hand combat and long weapons’ training. He also remembered sparring
with several other men, but all their faces remained blank in his memory, he
couldn’t identify anyone of them. Though he did know that they were somehow professionally
connected—so by his best guess he was either a professional trainer, a police
officer or, and that somehow resonated most, a soldier. And if that—where was
he from, how had he come to be here and was this Garran one of his faceless
training partners?
Tyr stepped
in front of the podium. The empty chair was lit up again and the bird was
perched in the same spot as the day before. It sat unnaturally still, its eyes
closed. Since it didn’t seem to be tied to the perch it sat on, Tyr would have
expected at least some kind of reaction to his proximity. He turned toward
Baldr and Rag who still knelt where they had dropped onto the mat. “What’s up
with that bird? Is it asleep?”
“It’s a
robot.” Baldr answered. “It activates automatically when Flavia is close by.”
Tyr walked
closer and inspected the motionless bird. “It looks so real.” He reached out
his hand and touched it. It felt soft, like velvet. He plucked out one of those
velvety things, the name of which he couldn’t remember and twirling it in his
hand, carried on his exploration.
Behind him
the bird’s eyes opened, blinked once and closed again.
Finally Tyr
arrived back where he had started and still nobody else had arrived. He knelt
down halfway between Rag and Baldr, looking in Rag’s direction. Baldr wouldn’t
know the difference anyway. He held out his hand toward Rag. ”What is this
white thing called?”
“What? The
feather?”
“Ragnarok!”
Baldr barked, but it was too late. Memories were cascading like an avalanche through
Tyr’s mind. White. Feather. Whitefeather.
His name. Soul Whitefeather. He closed his eyes against the flood of
information released inside his brain. He fought for composure, feeling instinctively
that if he gave the tiniest indication of what had just occurred, he wouldn’t
leave the room alive. The bird had been a tease; an attempt to determine how
well he had forgotten. He quickly stuffed the feather behind the neckline of
his top, hiding it from view. He hadn’t been sure if his presence here was
accounted for because he knew something that they were waiting for him to
remember or because they were counting on him to stay amnesic. Now he knew. Every
ounce of memory he regained made him more dangerous and more vulnerable at the
same time.
The bird
started to move and Tyr took a deep breath, shutting the door on his memory
just as a door next to the podium opened and Flavia stepped into the room.
Behind her entered another towering, heavily muscled man whose arms, legs and
chest where covered with unusually dense body hair—like a boxer he only wore a
pair of black shorts and combat boots. Flavia, wearing another elaborate robe,
this time in pale green with a high, semicircular collar and overlong trumpet
sleeves climbed the stairs and stood in front of her ornately carved chair.
“Tyr,
please meet Fenrir.” Her deliberate, seductive voice floated through the room
once again, followed by the giggling that had made Tyr shiver before. He could feel the undercurrent of malice in the room.
The tall
man, Fenrir, walked towards the mat, stopped at the edge and bowed; first in
Flavia’s direction, then towards Tyr. Tyr stood up, but stayed on the far side,
not bowing in return.
“Which
weapon have you chosen?” Flavia asked.
“Hanbo.” Tyr
replied. He turned and picked up the staff he had brought from downstairs,
while Fenrir went and picked another from a rack. Then Fenrir stepped to one
side of the mat and motioned for Tyr to take opposite position, so they were
standing side-on to Flavia. When they bowed at each other, Tyr thought he heard
a low, guttural growl. Hanbo in his hand, Tyr stepped in for his first attack.
***
Garran was
lying on his bed again, fully dressed this time, but he still hadn’t been able
to summon up the courage to leave his cabin. How would the crew see him now?
Word had surely spread that he would remain paralyzed, forever dependent on
some kind of mobility device, wheelchair or other, to get around. Hell, he
couldn’t even make it from his bed to the bathroom and back without it being a
major production.
Would they
feel sorry for him? By Horlus, he felt sorry enough for himself all on his own,
but the thought of being the object of someone else’s pity sat like a rock in
his stomach.
The door
opened unannounced and Doc strolled into his room.
“You can
still knock, you know. I’m not deaf.” Garran complained.
“I could
have, but you would have sent me away—probably with some choice words, which I
would have ignored—so what’s the point of knocking in the first place?”
“Just
saying.” Garran grumbled, silently acknowledging that Doc had a point since
that’s exactly what would have happened.
“I brought
you something.” Doc lifted a bottle he was carrying in his hand.
“Hey, that’s
what I call a true friend. You’re gonna help me drown my misery?”
“No. I
thought I’d give you my one and only bottle of single-malt so that you can
drown yourself in misery and then tomorrow when you go back on duty as the co-pilot of this vessel and apologize to
Aurra for letting her down, you at least have a reason to feel sorry for
yourself.”
Garran didn’t
answer. He did feel guilty for having skipped several shifts by now, but didn’t
a man in his position deserve some consideration? Who was Doc to lecture him?
The anger he had just started to bring under control flared up again. “I’m a fucking
paralyzed, amputee cripple, so what does Aurra want with me anyway?”
"You were a
paralyzed, amputee cripple already when you came on board. That didn’t prevent
you from entering into an agreement with Aurra to be her co for the next six
months, nor did it seem to feature in that hot and heavy make-out session I
interrupted. And now all of a sudden because things are not going your way
Aurra’s needs and reasons are no longer worth considering?”
Aurra’s needs. That just conjured up all kinds of images and
feelings Garran momentarily wished to forget. If only he could. He extended his
hand for the bottle, beckoning with his fingers.
Doc extended
his arm, too, but held the half full bottle just beyond Garran’s reach. Garran
lunged for it, but Doc pulled it back. “You need your attitude fixed, not your
body. You are no less of a pilot than you were two days ago. Aurra still thinks
very highly of you, so don’t screw it up. You're a better man than this.” Then he
turned and carried the bottle to the sideboard on the far side of the cabin before
he turned on his heels and left.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Devoted -- it's here!
Ever wondered how Jules and Jeff felt that first spark in Swimming to the Surface? Looking forward to reading Diary of an Ugly Girl on your Kindle or iPhone? How about some BRAND SPANKING NEW stories from talented writers like Ruth Madison?
Devoted is finally available! Check it out on Amazon (paperback coming soon) or Smashwords (downloadable in nearly any e-format, including HTML and PDF).
Important note for Smashwords: unless you're logged in and have turned this feature off, their "adult filter" will be automatically in the ON position and you won't be able to find it using the search.
A HUGE thanks to Lee and Ruth for getting this together -- it looks great so far, and I am beyond tickled at reading my own work in this form for the first time :)
Devoted is finally available! Check it out on Amazon (paperback coming soon) or Smashwords (downloadable in nearly any e-format, including HTML and PDF).
Important note for Smashwords: unless you're logged in and have turned this feature off, their "adult filter" will be automatically in the ON position and you won't be able to find it using the search.
A HUGE thanks to Lee and Ruth for getting this together -- it looks great so far, and I am beyond tickled at reading my own work in this form for the first time :)
Aurora - Part 19
Despite
Doc’s well-meant intervention of the day before, Garran still hadn’t shown his
face. Aurra was back on one of her inspection rounds, contemplating what to do
about the situation. Somehow she needed to get him out of this funk. Apart from
the fact that she was back to stolen naps here and there while piloting the
craft on her own, she just simply missed his company—while right now he was
probably still sleeping off the effects of half a bottle of single-malt on an
empty stomach.
What a
frustrating situation—but she did have an idea what was keeping him trapped in
his cabin. His whole world hat tilted on its axis and he didn’t know how to
right it again. What a strange thing hope was. Before Doc’s last prognosis, he
had dealt with his inability to walk well enough. He had been frustrated by it
for sure, but he hadn’t let himself be held back by it. Was there a way to help
him find something new, some new strength inside himself that would make him
hope again?
Hope for
what? That was really the crux of the matter. DF’s words came back to her.
Would it really be enough to tell him that he didn’t need two whole legs and
the ability to walk to meet her muster? Would he think her condescending if she
told him? “Arrgh.” Aurra banged her fist on the wall next to the porthole she had
been staring out of. She really had to break this recent habit of staring into
space—literally.
Mila stuck her
head out of a service crawlspace nearby. “Hi Captain. Is everything okay?”
“Mila”
Aurra acknowledged her environmental engineer. “Yes—no—yes. It’s complicated.”
The younger
woman pulled herself out of the narrow crawlspace and smiled shyly. “So it
seems. Well, I need to go find a spare seal—since I have pulled one of the
auxiliary air scrubbers apart in there.” She pointed her thumb back over her
shoulder at the open hatch. “But, if you ever want to talk—you know—girl talk,
let me know.” She blushed, seemingly embarrassed for having made the offer to
her Captain, turned and walked away from Aurra without waiting for a response.
Mila was
relatively new to the crew, too. Brent had brought her along four months
earlier after a whirlwind romance and shotgun wedding and Aurra realized that trapped
by her own depression over Bryn’s death she hadn’t really made an effort to get
to know Mila.
To rectify
the situation, she decided to make a point of engaging more with the quiet and
shy young woman in the future. Engaging more—like with Garran. If nothing else,
the man needed to talk. With her! Now!
With new
resolve she set out along the corridor, to the lift which she took up to the
crew deck. When she arrived in front of Garran’s door, her fist raised to
knock, her resolve faltered again. Dammit.
She wasn’t usually this indecisive. But her feelings for Garran, his disability
included, was not something she found easy to talk about.
Furiously
she balled both hands into fists and stomped off into the direction of her own
cabin. What was this man doing to her? No man had ever thrown her so completely
off balance. Tired and upset now with her own lack of willpower she opened her
cabin door and threw herself onto her bed giving her pillow a good punch.
Doc had
said that Garran usually faced situations head-on, always finding
opportunities, bringing the best out in people, excelling where other were
bound to fail. Why not now? She understood grief and depression, but it had
gotten her exactly nowhere. And she missed Garran’s company, his smirk, and
most of all the sizzling sexual tension between them. It made her feel alive in
ways she hadn’t felt in months. She would show him! She would show him that
hiding was not the answer. She would show him right now how desirable he was.
She jumped
up and stormed out of her cabin and straight into Garran’s before her courage
left her again. “Garran…”
He was
naked. He came wheeling out of the bathroom and came to a dead stop when Aurra
burst into his room. With only a towel around his neck, Aurra had a prime view of
his marvelous physique. His handsome face framed by the dark, spiky wet hair, broad
shoulders and defined chest and stomach, still glistening from a recent shower—Aurra’s
heart skipped in her chest. A line of dark hair trailed down from his navel to
widen into a dark patch of pubic hair framing his cock which even in its
relaxed state was nothing short of impressive. His thighs were still strongly
muscled, but she knew that would change over time. The stump of his left leg
was also bare and the sight of all these things together made Aurra’s insides
go all fluttery and needy, her pelvic muscles tensing, starting the exquisite
feeling of growing sexual arousal. She couldn’t remember having ever seen an
image as beautiful, erotic and enticing.
Obviously
Garran didn’t share her assessment.
“What the
…” He caught himself before voicing the expletive out loud. “Turn around!” It
was a command, not a request.
Aurra
complied, unsure of how to proceed at this point; her momentary hesitation had
cost her the advantage. She heard a few noises including the bed creaking and
she concluded that Garran had transferred into the bed and pulled up a sheet.
Certain that it was ‘safe’, she turned around and faced him.
His head
propped against the bulkhead wall he stared at her, the sheet covering his legs
and pulled up to his chest under his crossed arms. “I thought this cabin was private.”
“It would
be if you would leave it every once in a few days. I have a responsibility to
ensure that my crew is all right.”
“And that
entails breaking and entering?”
“I didn’t
break anything, but this is my ship and you are in breach of our agreement.”
This was so not where Aurra wanted the discussion to be going. She took a deep
breath to steady herself and steer the conversation into the right direction.
“So fire
me.”
“Hell no.” Thank you for that opening.
“Hell no?
What the fuck do you want from me? There won’t be any treatment over the next
six months. I’m fucking stuck in his fucking chair for the rest of my life.” He
shouted at her, storm clouds of emotion passing over his face.
Aurra
turned away from him and her gaze caught the bottle of single-malt still standing
half-full on the sideboard across from the bed. So he had withstood the temptation.
Taking it as a good sign, she turned back to face him, resisting the temptation
to cross her arms, too. Instead she extended her arms forward, palms up in a
questioning gesture “So what?”
His mouth dropped open. Before he had the
chance to gather his thoughts and demand she leave him alone, Aurra pressed
ahead. “You really need to get out of this bed, Garran. Lying around sulking
isn’t going to change your situation one bit.”
---
“Getting
out of this bed and not sulking isn’t going to change the situation either.
That’s the problem.” Garran’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
Aurra sat
down at the end of the bed and pulled back the sheet exposing his foot.
Garran
stared at her mutinously. “What the hell are you doing?”
Aurra was
unperturbed. She pushed her hand under his heel, lifted his foot up and scooted
closer, placing his foot in her lap. “I am massaging your foot. Your tendons
are contracting. That’s not good.”
Garran
watched as she started to massage the sole of his foot, stretched and flexed
his toes then his ankle. “And your point is?” He grunted. Despite his
misgivings he found that he was enthralled watching her massage his foot. He
imagined he could feel her hands, warm and soft as they moved over his skin. He
felt his blood rush to his groin, his libido once again asserting itself. And
he could certainly feel that. Aurra’s hands moved up to his calf. For a moment
he wished she would massage the stump of his other leg, too. That realization
shocked him like he had been doused with cold water. He jerked up and pulled
himself closer against the bulkhead wall, effectively pulling his leg out of
her lap. “Enough!” He shouted hoarsely. “I don’t need a nurse!”
Aurra got
up and stood in front of the bed, hands on her hips. “No, what you need is a
proper ass-whipping.” Color was staining her cheeks, her big dark eyes boring
into him.
“How lucky
that my ass is only half-numb then. Otherwise your effort would be entirely
wasted. Shall I roll over now?” Garran snarled, trying to stare her down. Damn the
woman’s sass. Damn the fact that he had to look up at her. Torn between wanting
her gone from his cabin and wanting her on top of him right this second he
remained seated against the top of the bed, but uncrossed his arms and dropped
his hands into his lap when in his peripheral vision caught the unmistakable
movement of the sheet tenting. Damn his traitorous body for having a mind of
its own.
He saw the
brief flash of triumph in her eyes before she composed her features again, but
a slow smile spread across her face. By Horlus, she was more beautiful in this
state of controlled fury than ever before.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Garran realized that he had completely lost his train of thought.
“Yes, roll
over now.” Something else flashed in her eyes and if he weren’t so certain that
he must be completely mistaken he would have said that it was unbridled desire.
Damn—damn—damn!
He had never lost a staring-down contest before. This woman was something else.
His brain scrambled to come up with the right course of action, but for some
reason he was completely lost, unable to move.
She took a
step towards him. Like in slow motion she reached out a hand to take hold of
the sheet as his mouth went dry and still his brain could not form a single coherent
thought.
She grabbed
the sheet in her fist and yanked hard. It slid off him and onto the floor,
exposing his paralyzed leg and stump while his manhood stood at glorious attention.
His arms fell to his sides, leaving him completely exposed. Her gaze raked over
him and he swore he could feel the trail of her gaze even on his legs. She took
another step and sat sideways on the edge of his bed.
“Aurra…” A
whisper was all his frazzled brain was able to produce.
Then she
leaned across his legs and forward, sliding her tongue in a slow circle over
her lips. Garran’s breath hitched. She opened her mouth slightly and placed it
on top of his glans, slowly pushing down. She flicked her tongue across his
slit before sliding it over the bottom edge and then pushing it against the
underside of the glans while her lips opened around him and she took him
deeper, blowing his testosterone-flooded mind.
Aurora - Part 20
Aurora - Part 20
Monday, May 28, 2012
Aurora - Part 20
“Tyr! …
Tyr!” The whispered name was followed by two hands on his shoulders shaking him
awake.
Soul
Whitefeather blinked open his eyes and looked up into Vali’s tense face. It was
light in the room, but with Horlus I’s short day-night cycles he wasn’t sure
how long he had slept. On the upside, he no longer felt the bone deep
exhaustion he had experienced right after the fight, but his right shoulder and
the stump of his arm—another word that had come back to him—was killing him. His
shoulder and chest muscles screamed in protest from the unaccustomed exertion
of wielding a weapon with less than a quarter of the leverage they were used to
and although the weapon had helped to deflect Thor’s attacks, it has also
attracted his opponent to target his stump directly; mostly glancing blows that
the padded and reinforced leather vest had deflected well enough, but in one instance
the tip of Thor’s hanbo had hit him squarely against the end of his stump,
sending him to his knees in agony.
Flavia had
called a timeout for him to recover, but the fight hadn’t been over until one
of the opponents had been bested. It had been Soul’s good fortune that not too
long after his near knockout, a faint with the hanbo and a close range punch
against Thor’s temple, had dropped the bigger man out cold. And not too soon; Soul
had been near collapse from exhaustion himself.
Soul knew
that if he lost a few fights too many and the entertainment value of watching a
one-armed man fight a bear had exhausted Flavia’s limited reservoir of
patience, his lifespan would be measurable in days rather than years, if that. Was
Vali here to drag him back into the ring already? Without a doubt, if he had to
fight now, he wouldn’t stand a chance. He sat up cradling his aching stump.
“What’s up?”
Vali put a
finger to his lips, straightened up and motioned inconspicuously for Soul to
follow him.
Curiosity
won out. Soul glanced around, but neither Rag nor Baldr, his constant shadows
so far, were around. He grabbed the black silk robe from the foot-end of his
bed and followed Vali’s retreating form. The cool, soft silk felt soothing on
his battered arm and sore chest and back and for a moment Soul allowed himself to
revel in the luxury of the sensation.
He followed
Vali through the gym into the adjacent spa area, where the other man shed his
clothes and entered the steam room. After a moment’s hesitation, Soul did the
same. It was a fairly large room and through the dense, swirling fog, Soul
could just make out Vali sitting on the second level of the three tiers of dark,
polished stone benches that ran the length of the back wall and one side of the
room. Except for the sound of dripping water and faint grey noise it was eerily
quiet. Vali patted the bench to his right. “Join me. Thought this might help
you relax and recover.”
Soul
hesitated for a moment then did as asked; intrigued by the other man’s
behavior. Though attuned to emotional undercurrents, he hadn’t detected any
sign of danger or malice and his instinct nudged him on.
He sat near
Vali and when he looked at the bench between them he could read words the other
had drawn in the dew on the stone: DONT
SPEAK. BUGS EVERYWHERE
Soul smiled
at the ingenuity. AND HERE? He wrote.
Vali waved
a hand through the undulating, hot fog, a smirk on his face. Then he wrote over
the previous text; Soul observing each letter as it was drawn in the same spot:
EVEN IR CAMS USELESS, ONLY AUDIO
WHERE RAG + BALDR?
WITH FLAVIA WE HAVE AT LEAST 30 MIN
WHO R U?
FRIEND Soul watched as Vali drew a circle around a
three-pointed star—the symbol of the Horlus III police force—followed by the
letters SI. Special Investigator. He
nodded in acknowledgement. Weighing up his options of how much to reveal at
this point, Soul opted for caution: I
DONT REMEMBER ANYTHING
U CAPT 1 SOUL WHITEFEATHER WITH H3 MIL RECON –
UR TEAM AMBUSHED – ALL DEAD EX U + COMMANDER
Bits and pieces
of memories where falling into place, some of them leaving him shaken. If Soul
hadn’t already been sweating profusely from the steam, the emotional strain
would have done just that. Again he admired Vali’s wits for taking him here where
none of his reactions would give him away, as long as he kept his mouth shut.
Garran—the name he hadn’t been able to place—Garran was the Commander. He asked
to confirm: COMMANDER = GARRAN?
YES GARRAN RAULSTEN HE MAY NOT KNOW U ALIVE
HE WHERE?
INCOMPLETE INTEL – SOLD BEFORE FLAVIA COULD GET
HIM
SOLD?
SLAVE LIKE US – BUT HE NO LONGER ON H1
A few more puzzle
pieces added to the picture in Soul’s mind. So Garran had managed to escape
somehow, but the best bet for Soul’s own rescue and survival would still be to
get in touch with unit commader. His memory was still little more than patchy,
but if he knew one thing, it was that he trusted Garran unconditionally—except
he might not be in any condition to render assistance. GARRAN PARALYZED?
Vali looked
at him in surprise and nodded. YES – 1 OF
FLAVIAS SICK JOKES He hesitated for a moment his hand still hovering over
the bench and frowned. Then he carried on writing: LIKE UR ARM – AMP UNNECESSARY – U KNOW?
Soul nodded and exhaled a long breath. For a
moment he watched the swirls of fog his breath propelled about then he raised his
shortened arm towards his face and studied the deep purple bruising at its end for
a moment, feeling the soreness, but at the same time a strange emotional numbness
while looking at his truncated limb. Only the callousness Flavia had exhibited
surprised him.
“Sore?”
Vali asked.
Soul nodded
again and blinked. Vali moved places to sit on his right and suddenly Soul felt
Vali’s hands on his shoulder and digging into his traps. He closed his eyes,
sighing at the comfort the large, strong hands offered. They moved down his
arm, kneading first his deltoids and then with gentle, upward strokes his
reconfigured bi- and triceps. Despite the bad bruising, the relief the massage
provided was stronger than the pain and a feeling of gratitude swept through
Soul. Amazed at the other man’s willingness to touch the stump, Soul dropped
his head and relaxed his neck.
After a
while, Vali returned to the other side and resumed his writing. BETTER?
Soul nodded
again. THANX
ANY TIME
Soul
brought the discussion back to the matter at hand: GARRAN LEFT WHEN?
ABOUT 1 WEEK
IN TRANSIT – NOTHING CLOSE Horlus II was currently on the opposite side of the sun while Horlus III was
the closest; reachable within 10 to 20 days depending on the craft. Reasonable
to assume he would be on his way there. WAY
2 SEND ENCRYPTED MESSAGE WITHOUT ANY1 NOTICING?
Vali didn’t
respond for so long that Soul thought he had missed the question, but then,
just as he was about to ask again, Vali wrote: IF THEY COME 2 GET U I WANT OUT 2
Soul frowned,
unsure of how to respond. Despite the fact that he didn’t get a sense of
duplicity, could he trust Vali enough to bring him along? Could it be a ploy to
get to Garran? Soul played for time. WHAT?
I WANT 2 LEAVE WITH U – FLAVIA GROWING
SUSPICIOUS – MATTER OF TIME UNTIL U + ME R DEAD – TRAITOR IN H3 GOVERNMENT – IM
OFF RECORD – NO1 WILL COME 4 ME
Soul made
up his mind and nodded. He had to take the risk. If Vali was telling the truth
he was in as desperate a situation as he. If not, then he would have to improvise,
but passing up this opportunity was not an option. OK – MESSAGE HOW?
HACK ENVIRONMENT CONTROL SERVER – AXESS THROUGH
PANEL IN UTIL CLOSET NEXT 2 GYM DOOR – BEWARE CAMERAS/PRYING EYES – HAVE
MESSAGE READY – WILL GET U ADMIN ID CHIP L8R TODAY + CRE8 DIVERSION – U FOLLOW?
YES – MEET HERE 4 CHIP?
A smirk
appeared on Vali’s face even though he shook his head. NO – KISS ME
Then he got up and walked to the door of the steam
room. Before opening it he turned back to Soul. “I’m going for a swim, Tyr. You
should give it a try.”
Aurora - Part 21
Aurora - Part 21
Blue Skies Part 3
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Aurora - Part 21
Garran, lying
flat on his back with his head propped against a pillow, regarded the crown of
Aurra’s head. She was lying on her side, her head on his chest, drawing
swirling lines and lazy circles on his stomach. He felt calm—as calm as he
hadn’t felt since before Doc’s devastating announcement. If it wasn’t for Aurra
still lying here next to him, Garran would have thought the last hour had been
a figment of his imagination. An impossible dream, like walking again, but this
woman with her audacious behavior had erased some of his doubts, restored some
of his self-confidence. Not that he was back to being his old self—far from it,
but she had put a stop to his three day pity party. At least he was able to
deal with the here and now. And the here and now was okay, not good, but okay.
In the here and now missing and paralyzed legs didn’t matter, what they had
just shared did. But he didn’t want to think ahead about what it could mean for
the future neither. Stay in the here and now. Stay safe.
He moved
his hand up from her back to the nape of her neck and felt the velvety softness
of her short black hair. “Have you always had short hair?” He murmured.
Aurra
turned her head to look at him and simultaneously shifted her hand up to his
chest and circled his nipple instead. “No. I used to wear it long, like you.
When Doc first told me of you, he showed me a picture of you with long hair.
Why did you cut it?”
“I didn’t.
It was the first thing they cut off after I was captured. Even before they took
me into surgery and cut off my leg.”
Aurra shook
her head almost imperceptibly “Why?”
“Why did
they cut off my hair or why did they cut off my leg?” He watched as a slight
redness crept over Aurra’s cheeks. He smiled. How endearing that she could
still feel embarrassed, even after her aggressive sexual overture. “I guess
they did both as a sign of disrespect and to show me that they were in control and
I was at their mercy.”
Aurra’s eyes
grew wide and her eyebrows crept up her forehead during his explanation. “They
just amputated your leg for nothing?”
“Well, my
ankle was bust, but the treatment didn’t have to be quite so drastic. Obviously
it made it far less likely that I would attempt an escape.”
Aurra sat
up and the sheet dropped to her waist, giving Garran another view of her firm,
round, little breasts. He had never been overly excited by large breasts and in
comparison he preferred Aurra’s to those artificially enhanced ones of many of
his previous sexual encounters. Everything about Aurra was authentic he
realized. She had no need for games and pretense. His gaze dropped down to her
hands. Fascinated as he had been with her breasts he had missed that she had
pulled the sheet away from his left leg and placed his stump in her lap. He
flinched, wishing he could pull his leg away and hide it, but he couldn’t, so
he flippantly said: “It’s not pretty.”
“It’s not
ugly.” She admonished his attempt at self-effacement and sent him one of those
heart-stopping smiles. “Really, it doesn’t bother me.” She smoothed her hands
over it then lifted it almost reverently to her lips and placed a kiss on the
rounded end. She lowered it gently back down to the bed and pulled the sheet
over his leg before stretching out next to him again. “I don’t ever want you to
feel like you need to hide your legs from me; either one of them.”
All Garran
could do was nod. He couldn’t bring a sound across his lips; his throat had
gone completely dry. He sat up and reached for the wheelchair. Aurra looked up
at him questioningly. “Stay.” He croaked, “I need the bathroom.”
He
transferred across and escaped into the bathroom. Closing the door quietly behind
him he rolled to the sink and placed his hands on the edge and his forehead on
top. If Aurra could accept his shortcomings why couldn’t he? He didn’t really
have a life to return to anyway, why should it matter if he never had his leg
replaced and never walked again? Could he stay here in this little safe haven,
on this ship, with Aurra and Doc and the rest of the crew and be happy? Could
he be happy without the anticipation and then the adrenaline rush of the next
mission? Could he be happy despite the wheelchair? Could he be happy with
Aurra? Could he be happy without her?
The
question caught him by surprise. He had already acknowledged that Aurra
intrigued him; that he wanted to be friends with her—well; they had already
advanced to the friends with benefits stage—but he felt confused and
intimidated by the unfamiliar surge of emotion at the thought of not having
Aurra in is life. Were his feelings for her deepening? Was he ready for more or
was she just the silver lining at the horizon of an otherwise hopeless
situation?
He pushed
himself up and filled a water bottle with water from the tap. He swallowed a
few mouthfuls and feeling better, but not necessarily any wiser, he made his
way back into the cabin where he found Aurra soundly asleep.
He grabbed
his clothes and returned to the bathroom where he dressed as quietly as
possible. When Aurra was still asleep when he emerged some time later, he left
her to rest and left his cabin for the cockpit for the first time since his
last unpleasant visit to the medical bay. Aurra deserved her sleep and he had
job to do which he had neglected long enough already.
***
Kiss me! Soul pondered the meaning of Vali’s words. He
had spent the last few hours since his trip to the steam room in the common
room that all the men—the slaves, he reminded himself—working for Flavia shared.
Rag and Baldr had reappeared and had stayed close by, but didn’t seem to pay
him any particular mind. They sat together with two other men to whom Soul
hadn’t been introduced, yet. The four were sitting around a 3D display table,
on the surface of which some sort of ball game—a variant of football as far as
Soul could tell—was playing out. The sound was projected at the seats around
the table so Soul couldn’t hear any of the reporting, but he could hear Rag’s
mumbled words as he provided additional live commentary to his blind companion.
Another slave named Heimdall whose acquaintance Soul had made the previous day
in the gym was reading and occasionally glancing in his direction, but in fact no
one seemed to pay Soul any particular attention. That suited him just fine while
he observed the movements of everyone from below lowered eyelids.
Fenrir
entered the room and Soul’s heart rate sped up in anxious anticipation of a
summons to the next fight. But it didn’t come. Instead, as Fenrir’s gaze swept
the room, his eyes held Soul's for a moment and then he nodded his head once
in apparent acknowledgment of his opponent’s presence and dominance. Soul released
a breath he hadn’t quite realized he’d been holding. Surprised at the gesture being
made without any display of aggression or I’ll-get-back-at-you-attitude, he
nodded back. Then driven by some impish impulse Soul lifted his stump towards
his forehead and tipped his head slightly to the right until his head and the
end of the stump touched together in a mock salute. A semblance of a grin
relaxed Fenrir’s features momentarily before he turned and left.
From his
vantage point on one of the deep, plush, circular recliners that molded itself
around his body, Soul watched him disappear into the gym. If he hadn’t missed
anyone, that brought the number of people in the gym to four.
Before returning
to his bedroom, Soul had passed through all the rooms that made up the gym and
spa area, seemingly exploring the still unfamiliar places at his leisure. In
truth he had been scouting out the layout, the cameras, the people and what
they were doing. He had watched Vali for a moment, slicing through the pool
with languid strokes.
If anyone
was following his movements through the hidden cameras, then the fact that he
had explored every room, every nook and cranny, gave him the appropriate excuse
to open the door to the utility closet by the gym door. He had taken note of
the access panel Vali had mentioned. He would need a tool to open it and it
looked like the blades he had spirited out of the dungeon might just be right
for the job.
Soul had gotten
dressed in the most loose-fitting clothes he had been provided with and had
even put on the silk gown again. He wanted to give the impression of being sore
and exhausted, so he had made a point of moving a bit more slowly and stiffly
than really necessary. Before he had settled into the lounger that gave him the
best vantage point of all the comings and goings he had even gone and collected
a cryo-pack and a few loose scatter cushions and had propped up his stump.
And—he conceded with a sigh as he settled himself deeper into the comfortable
leather—though it didn’t feel quite as good as the massage that Vali had given
him earlier, it did feel better this way.
Flavia’s
flair for dramatic settings was clearly evident in the room. Stone cladding, dragons
and other fantastic animals carved from the same roughly textured stone
interspersed with wood paneling and windows much higher than wide topped by
pointed arches. The ceiling was one big electronic display providing the
optical illusion that the room was at least twice its physical height and that
one was actually inside a roofless ruin, which currently gave way to a sunlit
sky, traversed by an occasional cloud. The furniture matched the décor. It was all
heavy, carved wood, thick, but soft leather and applications of forged iron
bands and nails.
Vali had
been conspicuously absent ever since their encounter in the morning. For all
Soul knew he was still in the gym area. He wasn’t quite sure if this was a good
or bad sign. All the while he had been waiting and observing, Soul had been
busy crafting the message in his head which he would send out if all went
according to plan. Since he had no way of knowing where exactly the ship he
presumed Garran to be on was located or what kind of vessel it was, he would
have to use a common frequency and hope for the best that Garran got the
message. Even though he would program the message to repeat broadcast in
regular intervals it would surely only be a matter of time before it was
discovered and taken off the air. If he was lucky, no one would connect him to
the message, but he doubted that he would get more than one chance.
He decided
to disguise it as an emergency call—which ironically it was. By chance he had
figured out his location: Fano Tower. Rag had told him earlier that he could go
up to the roof to tan in the buff and that since he was in the highest building
on the planet he needn’t be worried about onlookers. That had been a vital
piece of information that would hopefully bring the cavalry right to his door. If
Garran had been gone for a week it would be at least that long until he could
expect anything to happen. Until then staying alive had to be his number one
priority.
Another two
men Soul hadn’t met before appeared in the lounge. They walked arm in arm and
Soul noticed that none of the others seemed to mind their obvious amorous
behavior. Soul watched them as they stopped at the game table and chatted with Baldr.
Well, one was talking while the other was standing behind him, caressing him
and placing playful kisses on the speaker’s neck and shoulders. Since they were
facing away from him Soul couldn’t see the speaker’s lips and only caught
fragments of the conversation, but it seemed they were inviting Baldr to a
threesome. The two lovers left in the direction of the bedrooms and Baldr got
up and followed soon after. Based on what he had just witnessed Soul assumed
that kissing Vali wouldn’t raise anyone’s eyebrows.
Soul got up
and went to the bar to get something to drink. He picked up a cooler and turned
to return to his seat when Vali sauntered into the room. Soul acknowledged him by
raising the bottle and Vali’s eyes lit up. A grin spread across his features
and he closed the distance on Soul.
Soul put
the bottle down and leaned back against the bar counter, beckoning Vali closer.
Just the thought of what he was about to do stirred his manhood to life. Before
embarrassment got the upper hand, Soul consoled himself with the fact that it
added realism to the situation. When the taller man stood in front of him, Soul
reached for the back of Vali’s head and pulled him in for a scorching kiss.
Vali’s arms came around him and pulled Soul into his equally aroused body.
Relief flooded through Soul while at the same time Vali’s tongue pushed a
microchip into Soul’s mouth. After another moment Vali broke the kiss and his
lips nuzzled Soul’s earlobe. “Powerfail in five. Get into position before main power
returns.” Then he pushed back and said normally: “I have to go and run an
errand for Flavia, but I’ll be back in half an hour. Come find me in my room.”
Soul nodded
and watched Vali’s retreating form. With the chip under his tongue he picked up
the cooler again and downed its contents, willing his heartbeat to come back
under control. He headed for one of the toilets to be inconspicuously closer to
the gym and waited for his opportunity to slip into the utility closet
unnoticed. He wondered how Vali had engineered a power failure and what exactly
would be switched off. Buildings like this had back up power and many devices
had their own battery back-up, but maybe it would just take up everyone’s
attention enough to give him the window of opportunity he needed.
Following
his intuition, Soul left the toilet and walked slowly into the gym. He had just
passed through the gym doors, feeling at least one set of eyes on his back—Heimdall
he mused—when the lights flickered and then went out. Soul dove to his right and
just closed the utility closet door behind him when the lights came back. He
rested his back against the door and listened for any footsteps approaching
outside. None came. Maybe the few seconds of darkness had deceived Heimdall
into thinking that Soul had carried on straight into the gym.
Soul
momentarily considered obstructing the door from the inside, but if someone
came looking for him he would be trapped in here regardless. He moved over to
the panel and drew a knife from the sheath strapped to his lower leg. He slid
it into the gap and popped it loose. As he had expected the cover was held on
by a number of magnets. He pushed and held against it with his stump until he
could slip his fingers into the gap and lower it noiselessly to the floor.
With relief
he saw a standard computing console apparently monitoring and controlling the gym’s
environment settings. While he inserted the chip Vali had given him into the
chip reader and waited for the console window to open, he noted the settings
for the weights floor and spa, pool and steam room: temperatures, humidity,
ambiance settings and such; gathering as much information as possible to be put
to use later on. Finally the console window opened. Vali had made good on his
word. He really hoped the other man had not put himself into any immediate
danger, but then he pushed the thought away. No time to worry about this now.
Soul
navigated his way to a program that would give him access to a satellite’s
emergency channel. Scheduled broadcast listings scrolled down the screen. Soul
picked an empty position and keyed in his cryptic message. Of all the times he
had already cursed his lack of a right hand, this moment was the most
infuriating, yet. He bit back the curse and concentrated, typing left-handedly
as fast as he could. Finally the text was complete. He set the broadcast
parameters to repeat five times an hour, hoping to attract Garran’s attention,
but not those who would take his message offline again. He waited until the
message had broadcast for the first time, retrieved the microchip but hid it
inside the panel, replaced the cover and returned to the door. He listened for
a while and when he couldn’t hear anything he opened the door a fraction. He
could just see Heimdall once more engrossed in his reading.
About to take
a chance and sneak out, Soul caught another lucky break. Someone spoke to
Heimdall who looked up and put away his reader. Then he got up and disappeared
from sight. Soul slipped through the door into the gym proper. Time to go for
the swim Vali had recommended.
Aurora - Part 22
Aurora - Part 22
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Aurora - Part 22
… Mayday-mayday-mayday. Taku Skan-Taku
Skan-Taku Skan. 4 flights from the top of HI. 2 CR …
Garran
stared at the message that had appeared and disappeared on the screen in front
of him. The emergency frequency was always being received and any text
contained was continuously scrolling along the bottom of the main monitor.
There it was again:
… Mayday-mayday-mayday. Taku Skan-Taku
Skan-Taku Skan. 4 flights from the top of HI. 2 CR …
Garran took
the phone from his pocket and pressed Docs speed-dial. Doc answered so quickly
it gave Garran the impression he had been waiting for the call. “Look who’s
finally come out of his hole. What can I do for you?”
“Come to
the cockpit. I want to show you something.”
“On my
way.”
Less than
two minutes later Doc walked in and took the copilot’s seat across from Garran.
Garran steeled himself for Doc’s reproach or a question as to how he was
feeling, but to his surprise the other man remained silent. So he picked up the
conversation. “Look at this.” He pointed to the message he had singled out and
positioned in the middle of the main screen.
Doc’s lips
moved as he quietly read the emergency call. “What about it?”
“What do
you think Aurra would say if I asked her to turn around and go back to Horlus
I?”
“I suppose
she would justifiably ask you if you’ve lost your mind.”
“I guess so
and she might even have a point.”
“I assume
you have a better reason than putting an end to your miserable existence to
justify returning to the lion’s den. I would have thought you’d want to put as
much distance between you and that place as possible.”
“Let’s say
I have learned a few things in the last couple of hours. One of which is that
my existence is not quite as miserable as I first thought and that running away
is not the right solution. But no—this is not about me. This is about my men.
It looks like two of them are still alive.”
Doc’s face
betrayed his surprise, but then it turned into a frown. “Is it possible? Or
could it be a ruse to get you to come back?”
Garran
shrugged his shoulders. “I never had a chance to confirm their fate. I guess it
could be a trap, but I will never find peace again if there is even the
slightest chance that this message is real.” Garran waved a hand at his legs. “And
they are in real danger. After what they did to me I don’t even want to
consider what they might have done to them.
“Soul—Captain
Whitefeather is not just my number two, he is also my best friend. We grew up
together.”
“Hmm. So
what makes you so convinced that this message is real?”
“The name.
Taku Skan is one of Soul’s aliases. But it’s one he used to use when we were teenagers.
He hasn’t used it in years. I don’t think anyone other than me knows it. How
would they?”
“Maybe they
tortured him?”
“Maybe they
did, but why give up that piece of information? I don’t think he would have
done that. Soul has this uncanny ability to draw into himself. He has the
highest pain threshold of my entire team.”
“So let’s
say this is real and two of your men are alive and in need of extraction. Then
what? Provided we can find them are you just going to roll in there and say
thank you for looking after my men and stroll out again?”
Garran grimaced
and shot an annoyed look at Doc. “You know this game as well as I, Doc. What we
need is a solid approach. Get your famous strategic thinking cap. I’m trying to
enlist your help here.”
“Fair
enough, but first things first. We need more intel, but before we draw on any
resources or decide on any course changes, Aurra needs to give her approval.”
He got up off the chair and turned into the passage.
Garran
reached out his hand and grabbed Doc’s arm. “Aurra is sleeping—for the first
time in days I think.”
“Yes and
whose bull-headedness do we have to thank for that?” Doc turned toward Garran
with a stern expression on his face.
Garran
released Doc’s arm and lifted his hands in defense. “Guilty, but just cut me
some slack here. It’s not every day that you learn that you’ll never walk
again.”
“Well,
you’ve had enough slack to last a lifetime. I think the situation justifies
waking her.” He turned away again to make his way out of the cockpit.
“No. Wait.
I’ll go.” Garran lifted the wheelchair over his lap and unfolded it, then
transferred across. Doc stepped back to let Garran pass.
“I’ll be
right back. Put your thinking cap on so long.”
Garran
entered his cabin and found Aurra still asleep. He watched her for a moment,
reaching for her with his hand. Then he thought better of it and transferred
onto the bed. He rolled onto his side and kissed her temple. “Aurra?”
Aurra
scooted closer, but didn’t open her eyes. “Hmm?”
“Aurra, I
need you to come to the cockpit. Something has come up.”
Aurra’s
eyes flipped open, immediately alert. “What’s up?”
“There was
a message on the emergency channel. I think it is from one of my team.”
Aurra was
already out of the bed and gathering up her clothes while Garran was still busy
pushing himself back to the edge of the bed to get back into his wheelchair.
“Before you
thought your team was all dead. Now you think someone is alive?” She stated
matter-of-factly. “What if it’s a trap?” She pulled on her pants and shirt then
sat back down and pulled on her socks and boots.
“That
possibility has crossed my mind, but I think the message is real and
considering what they did to me I think my men are in considerable danger.”
“You think
it’s more than one?”
“The
message implies two.”
“So what do
you want to do?”
“First I
want to sit down with you and Doc and think about the situation with a clear
head—come up with options.”
“Okay.
Let’s go.” Aurra strode to the door, but before she got there she stopped and
turned. She looked at Garran for a moment, but then lowered her gaze, fidgeting
with her sleeves for a bit then she took a deep breath. “I know this is the
wrong time, but I have a question that has been going around my mind for some
time and it has an impact on the decisions I will have to make.” She still
wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t know where I stand with you—so even though it
may be an uncomfortable question, please don’t lie to me.” She took another
deep breath. “Do we have a future?”
As Aurra
got to the point Garran psyched himself up to control the wave of panic he
expected the question to provoke. Yet, it didn’t come. Instead he felt an
unexpected sense of tenderness towards her, nonetheless combined with a solid
dose of doubt and fear. How could he be what Aurra deserved? It was the doubt
that stopped him from answering.
Seconds
ticked by and Garran saw vulnerability, hope and pain in her face, before she
shut down and turned away. Reaching for the door, Garran heard her whisper, “Okay.”
Garran’s heart
nearly stopped. He didn’t know what to say, but if he didn’t say something he would lose her. He forced
the first word across his lips.
“Aurra.” He’d
stopped her before she had pulled open the door.
She held
absolutely still, but didn’t turn to face him again.
“I would
very much like for us to have a future, but I have nothing to offer.”
Finally she
turned and a shy smile burst through her stoic façade that made Garran’s heart
skip yet another beat. “You are enough.”
Aurora - Part 23
Aurora - Part 23
Friday, May 25, 2012
Aurora - Part 23
“Enough!”
Flavia van der Riijn stood and walked to the edge of the podium on which her
throne-like chair was situated, putting an end to the fight. Fenrir was
regarding her wearily, balanced as he was on one leg, the other knee drawn up, expecting
Flavia’s command to drop his entire weight onto the unconscious man below him,
crushing his chest by driving his knee into the solar plexus. A maneuver that
was almost certain to kill him.
He lowered
his foot to the floor and stepped back as bidden. Flavia smiled her approval at
Fenrir, particularly since she could feel his disappointment of being denied
the killing blow. But Flavia had enjoyed the spirited fight way too much to let
go of her latest source of entertainment, yet.
Her
pleated, peach colored silk velvet cape billowed gently behind her as she
stepped down to the level of the mat in the center of the dungeon. Walking
towards the prone body, she considered her options. Tyr had fought valiantly,
but this time she had refused him a weapon which had put him at a clear
disadvantage. His style had become far less aggressive, waiting for Fenrir to
attack and then turning the attack to his advantage by feinting and drawing the
taller man in to overcommit himself.
Really,
before she tired of him, Flavia made a mental note, she needed to have Tyr
instruct the other fighters in the intricacies and nuances of close combat. Watching
Tyr use his entire body and particularly his stump to deceive his taller, but
slower opponent was truly inspirational. Most of the people Flavia had
subjected to similar treatment over the years had succumbed to depression,
unable to rise above their imposed limitation. But Tyr was one of the special
few who rose to the occasion to explore new, creative ways in his fighting. She
had watched him train and she had watched him fight. Standing at the edge of
the tatami mat she regarded the man in the center and then the others in turn.
Ragnarok, Baldr, and Fenrir.
No, undoubtedly
she had made Tyr better. A warm feeling washed over Flavia. Wasn’t Baldr
another perfect example? Not that she had caused his blindness, but by returning
him to only minimal vision, he was able to function effectively, but at the
same time fabulously attuned to every crick and kink in her own imperfect body.
Flavia advanced,
bent down and felt Tyr’s pulse which was strong and steady. Straightening she waved
Rag to her side. “He’s taken a liking to Vali, has he not?”
Rag
shrugged his shoulders. Baldr spoke from behind him. “It would seem so. They
kissed and Heimdall said they spent time in the gym together.”
Flavia
didn’t see any reason to discourage the evolving relationship between the two men.
If anything, it would bind him more strongly to her; particularly since the
memory suppression seemed to be working well so far. Tyr had shown no inward or
outward signs of distress that would indicate that he had remembered any
significant information. His heart rate and stress levels were continuously
monitored by his implanted failsafe, but correlations between his physical
state and environmental conditions had shown nothing that would be of any
concern so far. So she felt indulgent toward the man.
“Bring Tyr
to him. It will raise his spirits when he wakes up.” She walked back up the
stairs onto the dais. Sitting back down in her chair she stared at the white
bird on its perch next to her. It sidled closer, the crest on its head raised,
tilting and twisting its head to garner its mistress’ attention.
Flavia
stared at it; the perfectly sized feathers, the equidistant spacing, the
perfection in its programmed movements and mannerisms and a realization hit her—she
hated perfection. Perfection made everything predictable, repeatable and
boring. Flavia looked at Rag who was busy lifting the unconscious Tyr over his
shoulder and at Balder who stood at ease on the side of the mat and realized just
how much she preferred her imperfect slaves, Rag, Baldr and Tyr over the
perfect ones. In comparison, Fenrir was insignificant; perfection made flesh,
but his flawlessness left her cold.
Perfection,
she reasoned, was the scourge of the world. Nearly everyone was striving for
perfection and in turn was expecting perfection from, or worse, forcing
perfection onto others. How she hated her father who for years had made her
suffer in order to make her perfect. But she was perfect as she was—better than
all of them—certainly smarter than her perfect father who, for all his
blustering, nearly suffered a mental breakdown each time he found a new
imperfection on his aging body.
It was
time, Flavia decided, time to see if her father was made of the same stern
stuff as she—or Rag, or Baldr or Tyr. Or even Garran. Though she had never personally
met the man, she found it hard to believe that it would have been sheer luck
that made him evade her. It seemed that his physical limitations had not held
him down, but rather given him the edge he had needed to best her.
The sound
of her giggles erupted from her throat. Time to test her theory, she decided.
And who better to test it on than her father.
***
Soul took
stock of his body without as much as moving a toe. Everything hurt. He
concentrated on compartmentalizing the pain, to push it back in his mind so
that after a while if faded into the background. He knew it wouldn’t last, but
at least as long as he didn’t move he could keep the pain at bay.
Another
fight. Fenrir had come to the pool where Soul had been busy exploring ways to
adapt his swimming technique to make up for his missing arm. All in all it
didn’t require a lot of adjustment; it just felt strange because his timing felt
off. Soul had been summoned to the dungeon with just enough time to get
changed. Not enough time to let Vali know what was happening.
Vali—a feeling
of excited anticipation flooded Soul at the thought of the other man. Vali
hadn’t been present during the fight, but maybe he was still in his room. Maybe
he could wrestle up the energy—in a few minutes or so—and make his way there; he
certainly could use another of Vali’s massages right now.
At least,
it seemed, his defeat in today’s fight hadn’t been met with Flavia’s ire—yet.
How many more defeats would she tolerate before she allowed Fenrir to finish
him off? Soul barely opened one eye, but even the fairly dim light immediately caused
the pounding to return to his temples. He groaned as he rolled onto his back and
pulled his arm across his face to cover his eyes.
“How are
you feeling?” A low voice questioned him from somewhere off to his right.
A tentative
smile sneaked its way across Souls features when he recognized Vali’s voice.
“Like I have been run over by a cargo transport.”
“Can I get
you anything?”
“A new
head?”
A low
chuckling erupted. “One new head coming right up.”
Soul heard
the noise of running water and then felt the matrass give under Vali’s weight.
His arm was pushed up and a hot towel put in its place.
Soul sighed in relief.
“What
else?”
“How about
an entire new body? Rather ask me what’s not hurting.” His voice sounded
muffled to his own ears under the towel.
“What’s not
hurting?”
“My right
hand.”
“But you
have got no …”
“Exactly.”
Soul pulled the towel off his face, squinting, but grinning at the baffled look
on Vali’s face. “But I wouldn’t mind another massage if your offer still
stands.”
“Sure. Let
me grab some oil.” The matrass shifted again as Vali got up and walked to a
cabinet built into the wall.
Soul rolled
over onto his stomach, placing his cheek on the back of his hand. “Why am I
here and where are Tim and Tam?”
“Who?”
“Rag and
Baldr.”
“They
brought you here for me to spruce you up again.” Vali’s grin gave away how
pleased he was with this turn of events. He veered from his path and dialed up some
music then he returned to the bed and after applying the aromatic oil started
massaging Soul’s back and shoulders. Leaning in close he spoke softly directly
into Soul’s ear. “Flavia is gone on a trip to Nifol Diepte. She’s taken Rag,
Baldr, Heimdall and some of the others with her; apparently even Dr.
Balkenhorn. Horlus only knows what she’s up to. It’s the first time in as long
as I’ve been here that she’s left this building.”
“What’s
Nifol … Whatever?” Soul whispered.
“An island
off the coast of the Southern continent. It’s her father’s main residence.”
Vali leaned even closer, his lips gently nuzzling Soul’s ear. “Whoever made you
guys believe that the fortress outside Fanowar was the Eminence’s main
residence sent you straight into that trap.”
Another few
pieces connected inside Soul’s head. The Eminence was the man they had been
sent to eliminate and …—but Vali’s lips on his ear lobe and his hands on his
shoulders were entirely too distracting to think clearly. “You keep that up and
you may have to take care of some other parts of my anatomy as well,” he
murmured.
Vali placed
a gentle kiss on Soul’s temple. “It would be my pleasure.” He nudged Soul to
roll over onto his back. When he did, Vali started massaging Soul’s pecks then
circled his nipples with each thumb. Soul groaned under the other man’s sensual
touch. Vali’s right hand shifted downward, travelling slowly toward Soul’s
groin.
Soul placed
his hand on Vali’s and stopped its progression before he lost his train of
thought entirely “Wait. Something doesn’t add up,” he mouthed. “What does
Flavia’s trip have to do with our mission?”
Vali leaned
forward again, this time letting his lips pay attention to the other earlobe.
He whispered once more. “The Eminence is Flavia’s Father—Gideon van der Riijn,
but let’s not worry about that right now.” His hand moved down further until it
took hold of Soul’s erect cock, stroking it slowly, covering it with the oil
from his hand, while his mouth moved in a slow arc along the line of Soul’s jaw
toward the other man’s lips.
Another cog
slipped into place, but Soul closed it down to reflect on some other time. “No,
let’s not” he agreed and met Vali’s lips with his.
Aurora - Part 24
Aurora - Part 24
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