Jazz groaned and half wished they were going to kill him. If that was the case, then he wished they would just get it over with. He had nothing more to lose any longer. Kate had betrayed him, his ship was as good as trashed, and the Old lady’s credits, well they were as good as gone.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light. Jazz winced and shielded his eyes, groaning as he did. His body was a bundle of painful knots and welts. He squeezed his eyes tightly and forced them open again. Even the mechanical one adjusted grudgingly. It whirred and went out of focus wildly after one brutal slug knocked it loose a bit. Jazz banged his temple with the heel of his hand and it came back to life. As it did he had the impression of someone standing over him. A weak grin came to his face.
“I know that crotch,” he said, coughing painfully.
Katy shook her head in disdain. “Popular as always, eh Jazz?”
He glanced at the open cell and the heap of bodies. “Those guys? Waitin’ for them to tire themselves out then I was gonna…”
“Save it, Jazz.” She knelt close. Her heart was terribly torn between kissing him and smashing his head into the floor. “You should not have come here.”
She had put him off more times than he could count. That was just how they were. Hell, the sex was fantastic, the best either of them had ever had, but the truth was they often came close to killing each other afterward, but something was different this time. He could see it in her eyes, and hear it in her voice. It was more than an underlying tension. She was into something big, something that scared the daylights out of her. More than that Kate was saying goodbye. Not again, but for all time. His heart sunk, despite the stupid smirk on his batteredface.
“Maybe you need me.” A breath caught in his chest. Christ, it almost sounded like pleading.
“Jazz, you don’t understand. You’re in too deep now. You’ve seen the underground. You can’t ever leave.”
“Well, I can’t just stay down here forever,” he smiled dumbly.
“Yeah, Jazz,” she said darkly. “That’s what I’m saying.”
It took a moment for what she was saying to sink in. The realization clobbered him right between the eyes. His brow collapsed like two drunken caterpillars colloiding.
“Let’s get off this dung heap of a planet,” he pleaded. “We can go to Titan, or farm sulfur sludge on Io. Ain’t much of a living, but it’s better than this.”
“Jazz, what are you talking…?” she frowned. “You have to know something. I’m getting married to Thomas.”
“The Rebel guy?”
“Yeah, the rebel guy.”
“You’re out of your gourd.”
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
He could not have imagined worse news. Even if he survived Kate had doomed him to a lifetime of really average sex. Death would be a blessing in that regard.
Jazz ran a hand across his face, pulling at the stubbled flesh of his cheeks and jaw. His thoughts were a mess. His emotions weren’t far behind. She was making a terrible mistake. Jazz fought for the wisdom to choose the precise words that would appeal to her better sense.
“Are you stupid?”
“I’m not asking for your blessing, Jazz,” she said.
“Good,” he said, “cuz you ain’t getting it.” Jazz groaned. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”
Katy knew that he was terribly hurt by the news. Her heart went out to him in that old familiar way.
She groaned. “Why do I have to love you, Jazz?”
“Asking myself that same question.”
She nodded slowly and choked back a bit of emotion. “Well, at least I know you won’t be off with some other woman.”
The words hit him in the chest just as hard as that boot a few minutes before. God damn, he use to think there was nothing worse than being dumped by a broad. But jazz was wrong. Getting dumped and off’ed by a broad was worse. Jazz blinked once as Katy stood. There were tears in her eyes. The Lieutenant came over and leveled an ARP at Jazz.
“Shall I, ma’am?” he asked.
Jazz’ heart froze waiting for the word and the shot that would follow. She looked at him for a long moment.
“No,” she replied, pushing the weapon away. “Take him to the dungeon. I will take care of him later myself.”
“What about the others?” asked the Lieutenant.
“Eliminate them all,” she said.
Jazz was hauled up by the arms and dragged down the passageway. His legs were still unsteady. He wasn’t about to go willingly to death or some dark dungeon, but he was no match for his captors, at least not now. Jazz lowered his head and let the guards do all the work.
Behind him the sounds of erupting gunfire thundered among the narrow passages. The screams of dying men followed, falling silent after the brief but furious fusillade. Jazz couldn’t help but feel sorry for the men, never mind the whipping they had given him. That was the sort of death best deserved for madmen and cowards. A man should go down fighting, jazz thought. As he was dragged away Jazz resolved to do just that.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Angry Jasper: Twenty-nine
CHAPTER THREE
IN A WORLD OF HURT.
This crap was getting old, jazz thought from the tiny holding cell. He was crowded together with a hand full of corporate soldiers from the ship. Several had been wounded, and one of those was very near death. The ship’s pilot, a salty old cuss, with the look of a discontent at the end of his career, cradled the dying man’s head in his lap. There were tears in the commanders taunt and straining expression. His lip quivered terribly each time the dying soldier grimaced in mortal pain.
The room was small and dingy, like an old basement that had not been cleaned in years. There were no windows, and only one heavy iron door. Jazz curled up close to the door, apart from the others, and the blood slowly covering the cold hard floor. The room was dark, with just a bit of pale light leaking through gaps around the door.
The pilot stared at Jazz. It was a contemptuous glare. The man seemed to be muttering under his breath. Jazz looked away. There was no sense in picking a fight, and making this situation any worse. But Jazz couldn’t escape that burning stare. It was soon too much to ignore. He met the man’s dark eyes.
“Do I owe you credits or something?” Jazz said.
“Keep thinking how we should have shot you and that bitch first off.”
“Might have been doing me a favor,” Jazz replied.
The dying man coughed. His breathing was slower and more labored now. The anguish of watching the man die was evident in everyone’s mood.
“The both of you ain’t worth one of these men,” the pilot’s voice choked with emotion.
“You mean this room full of heroes?” Jazz should have kept his mouth shut, but that was a lesson he just had never learned. He was hopelessly outnumbered, but it was far too late for recriminations. His mouth and piss-poor attitude was about to cost him one hell of a whipping.
There was an odd moment when it might have blown over, even though he knew it wouldn’t. The others waited to see what the pilot was going to do. When he lunged at Jazz the fight was on.
Jazz was ready for the man. He stepped aside and sent the pilot slamming face first into the wall. The impact made a sickeningly loud clapping noise, like two planks smacked together. The pilot was out cold before he hit the floor. Jazz was still regarding his handiwork when someone’s fist smashed his left cheek.
“Shit!” Jazz cried. The punch spun him around. Blood and snot and spit spattered the wall in front of him. He was still reeling when a kick to the back drove the air from his lungs.
So much for a fight. Jazz could only curl himself into a ball and hoped the louts exhausted themselves before they did some real damage. They kicked and stomped him with the unhinged intensity of men who had nothing to lose any longer. Jazz prayed for the cold numbness of unconsciousness, and even a bit for a quick painless death. It was quickly apparent that neither would come soon enough. Only once did he attempt to fight back, but caught the heel of a boot in the forehead instantly.
The cell door opened suddenly and several guards joined in the melee, swinging sticks and clubs at Jazz’ attackers. Still the frenzied prisoners persisted. For a long, painfully brutal moment Jazz was at the center of the storm, still fighting for air, and still fending off blows.
At last the prisoners had been pummeled into a heap. Jazz sat up, gulping air into reluctant lungs and pressing himself into a corner. He looked up at the guards and tried to speak, to offer some sort of thanks. That gratitude would be short lived, though. They grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him from the room, dumping him heavily on the floor outside the cell.
IN A WORLD OF HURT.
This crap was getting old, jazz thought from the tiny holding cell. He was crowded together with a hand full of corporate soldiers from the ship. Several had been wounded, and one of those was very near death. The ship’s pilot, a salty old cuss, with the look of a discontent at the end of his career, cradled the dying man’s head in his lap. There were tears in the commanders taunt and straining expression. His lip quivered terribly each time the dying soldier grimaced in mortal pain.
The room was small and dingy, like an old basement that had not been cleaned in years. There were no windows, and only one heavy iron door. Jazz curled up close to the door, apart from the others, and the blood slowly covering the cold hard floor. The room was dark, with just a bit of pale light leaking through gaps around the door.
The pilot stared at Jazz. It was a contemptuous glare. The man seemed to be muttering under his breath. Jazz looked away. There was no sense in picking a fight, and making this situation any worse. But Jazz couldn’t escape that burning stare. It was soon too much to ignore. He met the man’s dark eyes.
“Do I owe you credits or something?” Jazz said.
“Keep thinking how we should have shot you and that bitch first off.”
“Might have been doing me a favor,” Jazz replied.
The dying man coughed. His breathing was slower and more labored now. The anguish of watching the man die was evident in everyone’s mood.
“The both of you ain’t worth one of these men,” the pilot’s voice choked with emotion.
“You mean this room full of heroes?” Jazz should have kept his mouth shut, but that was a lesson he just had never learned. He was hopelessly outnumbered, but it was far too late for recriminations. His mouth and piss-poor attitude was about to cost him one hell of a whipping.
There was an odd moment when it might have blown over, even though he knew it wouldn’t. The others waited to see what the pilot was going to do. When he lunged at Jazz the fight was on.
Jazz was ready for the man. He stepped aside and sent the pilot slamming face first into the wall. The impact made a sickeningly loud clapping noise, like two planks smacked together. The pilot was out cold before he hit the floor. Jazz was still regarding his handiwork when someone’s fist smashed his left cheek.
“Shit!” Jazz cried. The punch spun him around. Blood and snot and spit spattered the wall in front of him. He was still reeling when a kick to the back drove the air from his lungs.
So much for a fight. Jazz could only curl himself into a ball and hoped the louts exhausted themselves before they did some real damage. They kicked and stomped him with the unhinged intensity of men who had nothing to lose any longer. Jazz prayed for the cold numbness of unconsciousness, and even a bit for a quick painless death. It was quickly apparent that neither would come soon enough. Only once did he attempt to fight back, but caught the heel of a boot in the forehead instantly.
The cell door opened suddenly and several guards joined in the melee, swinging sticks and clubs at Jazz’ attackers. Still the frenzied prisoners persisted. For a long, painfully brutal moment Jazz was at the center of the storm, still fighting for air, and still fending off blows.
At last the prisoners had been pummeled into a heap. Jazz sat up, gulping air into reluctant lungs and pressing himself into a corner. He looked up at the guards and tried to speak, to offer some sort of thanks. That gratitude would be short lived, though. They grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him from the room, dumping him heavily on the floor outside the cell.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Angry Jasper: Twenty-eight
Thomas called for one of his lieutenants, screaming, as if his emotions were unrestrained, or as if he had no control over them. She winced at the sound and thought Thomas would unhinge his jaw. One of those mysterious black uniformed men appeared in an instant. Like the leader, he appeared like something stuffed a bit uncomfortably into someone else’s flesh. Not that he wasn’t an attractive man, but his eyes were ringed dark and were dull black and Zombie-like.
“Commander,” he saluted dutifully.
“Lieutenant, where is the bounty hunter?”
“Awaiting execution with the other Corporation prisoners.”
“Take him to another cell.”
“I want to see him,” said Katy.
“Of course you do.” Thomas’ voice was filled with condescension. “See that no harm comes to him Lieutenant. He will be released at a more convenient opportunity.”
“Commander?” the lieutenant asked, as if he had not understood clearly. It seemed artificial to Kate, as if the two men shared thoughts, or some detailed unspoken language.
“Do not question my orders!” Thomas bellowed. He took the man by the arm and led him away from Katy. The two men stopped near the door, far enough that Kate could hear nothing of what they were saying.
“Take her to him, and then make sure he disappears completely.” He turned back to Katy and smiled broadly. “So sorry, but I do hate to admonish subordinates in public. I’ll be here when you come back, and we will discuss our arrangement more fully.”
“Right, fully,” she said, not trusting Thomas at all.
She went with the young lieutenant from the chamber. Katy could hardly take her eyes off the young man, and those strong shoulders and chest she could sink her teeth into. He reminded her of Jazz when they first met all those years ago. With that came a torrent of memories and broken dreams. It broke her heart that she and Jazz might have settled down to a quiet and peaceful life. Maybe they would have had kids, and living in some pretty little quad on Enceladus, looking out over Saturn’s golden rings. The Rebellion would be a distant thing, a hollow news story, just so much background noise as the family sat down to supper.
The young Lieutenant’s expression was severe. His brow fixed and bent, much more than discomfort at being ordered to release Jazz. Suddenly Katy realized why and stopped him. She turned him to her.
“Ma’am?” he inquired.
“You’re supposed to kill him aren’t you?” she asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, averting his gaze.
“Don’t take me for a fool, Lieutenant. It would prove a terrible mistake.”
The young man thought a moment. Katy was an imposing figure when she wished to be. He looked to dust falling from the ceiling, and the pounding of the enemy bombardment. It was uncomfortably close.
“Do you hear that?’ he asked. “They enemy doesn’t know where we are. A great deal of blood, sweat and effort has gone into concealing this place. Your friend might not be the enemy, but he could unwittingly betray us to the enemy. You must understand. Our species is here, living like rats. The future of this planet. It’s a risk no one of us can afford.”
Katy nodded, noting the odd use of the word species. He was right of course. It was much bigger than she or Jazz, but she didn’t want him to be put down like some common Corporate conscript.
“Very well,” she conceded. “Take me to see him.”
“Commander,” he saluted dutifully.
“Lieutenant, where is the bounty hunter?”
“Awaiting execution with the other Corporation prisoners.”
“Take him to another cell.”
“I want to see him,” said Katy.
“Of course you do.” Thomas’ voice was filled with condescension. “See that no harm comes to him Lieutenant. He will be released at a more convenient opportunity.”
“Commander?” the lieutenant asked, as if he had not understood clearly. It seemed artificial to Kate, as if the two men shared thoughts, or some detailed unspoken language.
“Do not question my orders!” Thomas bellowed. He took the man by the arm and led him away from Katy. The two men stopped near the door, far enough that Kate could hear nothing of what they were saying.
“Take her to him, and then make sure he disappears completely.” He turned back to Katy and smiled broadly. “So sorry, but I do hate to admonish subordinates in public. I’ll be here when you come back, and we will discuss our arrangement more fully.”
“Right, fully,” she said, not trusting Thomas at all.
She went with the young lieutenant from the chamber. Katy could hardly take her eyes off the young man, and those strong shoulders and chest she could sink her teeth into. He reminded her of Jazz when they first met all those years ago. With that came a torrent of memories and broken dreams. It broke her heart that she and Jazz might have settled down to a quiet and peaceful life. Maybe they would have had kids, and living in some pretty little quad on Enceladus, looking out over Saturn’s golden rings. The Rebellion would be a distant thing, a hollow news story, just so much background noise as the family sat down to supper.
The young Lieutenant’s expression was severe. His brow fixed and bent, much more than discomfort at being ordered to release Jazz. Suddenly Katy realized why and stopped him. She turned him to her.
“Ma’am?” he inquired.
“You’re supposed to kill him aren’t you?” she asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, averting his gaze.
“Don’t take me for a fool, Lieutenant. It would prove a terrible mistake.”
The young man thought a moment. Katy was an imposing figure when she wished to be. He looked to dust falling from the ceiling, and the pounding of the enemy bombardment. It was uncomfortably close.
“Do you hear that?’ he asked. “They enemy doesn’t know where we are. A great deal of blood, sweat and effort has gone into concealing this place. Your friend might not be the enemy, but he could unwittingly betray us to the enemy. You must understand. Our species is here, living like rats. The future of this planet. It’s a risk no one of us can afford.”
Katy nodded, noting the odd use of the word species. He was right of course. It was much bigger than she or Jazz, but she didn’t want him to be put down like some common Corporate conscript.
“Very well,” she conceded. “Take me to see him.”
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Angry Jasper: twenty-seven
Katy felt a momentary wave of dread and revulsion. There was an animal way in which he looked at her. It was like she wasn’t a person but a vessel, a thing, as if he fully intended to devour her in the most literal way. It brought all the whispers and rumors about Thomas and his secretive inner circle plausible.
Thomas came around and sat on the edge of the table beside her. He tapped the brim of his chalice against hers and downed the glass in a single gulp.
“We’ve made gains against the Corporation, and our network in old Crawford will soon prepare the enclave for a final assault. The Corporation will be without a foothold on the planet once and for all!” Thomas stood, his arousal still fully evident. “But we can't be content with just this planet, Kate.”
“Earth first,” she reminded.
“This is a dead planet,” he replied smugly. “Time to push out across the solar system. When we rival the Corporation they will have no choice but to negotiate with us.”
Thomas was absolutely on fire. Indeed, it was hard for kate to know for sure if it was her or his ambition that had him so physically enhanced at that moment.
“Negotiate with whom?”
“I have begun to form the nucleus of a government that will solidify the rebellion into a single nation, instead of these broken and besieged fiefdoms.”
“Which you will no doubt lead.”
“And why not?” he said taken aback somewhat. “My family sacrificed for generations. Who better to lead?”
“As a dictator?” Her blood boiled, almost more than she could contain.
“Too harsh, Kate. Monarch is a much better word.”
“And what would make us any different from the Corporation’s self appointed leadership, led by perversely wealthy men?”
“Of course we’re different,” Said Thomas. “We are the Rebel Alliance!”
Katy took all this in for a moment. She started to take another sip of wine, but it made her feel a party to the crime. She pushed it away and looked at him. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Every movement needs a hero to sell the message. Every strong leader needs a strong leader at his side. A woman to challenge and inspire, and a woman who will be as ruthless against enemies.” Thomas moved close and knelt in front of her. He pushed her legs apart and weaseled his way between them. Thomas ran those scrawny cold pale hands along her thighs as if they were a fine polished wood. “And this body could inspire me, indeed!”
She pushed him to the floor and pressed the point of her sharp heel into his sunken chest. The threat of death was sexual to him. His eyes were wild and eager with excitement.
“Don’t ever question my loyalty to the cause,” she said. “I could drive this heel through your heart if I wished, if in fact there is a heart beating there.”
“Ruthless!” he cried joyously. “I love it!”
He pushed her leg aside with surprising strength and speed. Kate fell into the table, glasses and fruit crashing and splattering to the floor. Before she could react Thomas had a knife blade to her throat. The speed and agility surprised even Kate. It was something more akin to a hybrid that the sickly looking Thomas. His warm, putrid breath was at her ear. It had an ugly, rancid smell, like the inside of a crypt.
“Ever know another man who could beat you to the punch?” he asked. She did of course. The only man she ever truly cared for.
“This is your best proposal?”
His excitement pressed to her thigh. He moved it against her, like some snake slithering up a tree, only colder and slimier. She thought of the rebellion, of the frightened refugees, and the millions of dead in this war. Her personal sacrifice seemed trifling in comparison. He released her and tossed the knife away. It skidded and clanged across the floor. He turned her around, njow pressing her against the table, bending her back in the most painful of ways.
“Surely, none that will secure your place in history.”
“Mister romance,” she scoffed.
“You want romance, date a peasant. If you want power…”
She considered the offer for a moment. “If I agree then you will release the bounty hunter? ”
“How do I know he won’t help our enemies?”
“You have my word. Call it a wedding gift.”
He sighed and thought for a moment. “That’s it?’
‘That’s it.”
“Done.” Thomas held her hips and nuzzled his face into Katy’s neck. He didn’t see her grimace. “Now, how about a little prenuptial fun?”
She pushed him away. “I may be easy, but I’m not an idiot. I want proof he has been released.”
“It won’t be that easy. We can’t take a chance that he will tell someone where we are. The corporation would destroy us in an instant. In due time, I promise.”
Thomas came around and sat on the edge of the table beside her. He tapped the brim of his chalice against hers and downed the glass in a single gulp.
“We’ve made gains against the Corporation, and our network in old Crawford will soon prepare the enclave for a final assault. The Corporation will be without a foothold on the planet once and for all!” Thomas stood, his arousal still fully evident. “But we can't be content with just this planet, Kate.”
“Earth first,” she reminded.
“This is a dead planet,” he replied smugly. “Time to push out across the solar system. When we rival the Corporation they will have no choice but to negotiate with us.”
Thomas was absolutely on fire. Indeed, it was hard for kate to know for sure if it was her or his ambition that had him so physically enhanced at that moment.
“Negotiate with whom?”
“I have begun to form the nucleus of a government that will solidify the rebellion into a single nation, instead of these broken and besieged fiefdoms.”
“Which you will no doubt lead.”
“And why not?” he said taken aback somewhat. “My family sacrificed for generations. Who better to lead?”
“As a dictator?” Her blood boiled, almost more than she could contain.
“Too harsh, Kate. Monarch is a much better word.”
“And what would make us any different from the Corporation’s self appointed leadership, led by perversely wealthy men?”
“Of course we’re different,” Said Thomas. “We are the Rebel Alliance!”
Katy took all this in for a moment. She started to take another sip of wine, but it made her feel a party to the crime. She pushed it away and looked at him. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Every movement needs a hero to sell the message. Every strong leader needs a strong leader at his side. A woman to challenge and inspire, and a woman who will be as ruthless against enemies.” Thomas moved close and knelt in front of her. He pushed her legs apart and weaseled his way between them. Thomas ran those scrawny cold pale hands along her thighs as if they were a fine polished wood. “And this body could inspire me, indeed!”
She pushed him to the floor and pressed the point of her sharp heel into his sunken chest. The threat of death was sexual to him. His eyes were wild and eager with excitement.
“Don’t ever question my loyalty to the cause,” she said. “I could drive this heel through your heart if I wished, if in fact there is a heart beating there.”
“Ruthless!” he cried joyously. “I love it!”
He pushed her leg aside with surprising strength and speed. Kate fell into the table, glasses and fruit crashing and splattering to the floor. Before she could react Thomas had a knife blade to her throat. The speed and agility surprised even Kate. It was something more akin to a hybrid that the sickly looking Thomas. His warm, putrid breath was at her ear. It had an ugly, rancid smell, like the inside of a crypt.
“Ever know another man who could beat you to the punch?” he asked. She did of course. The only man she ever truly cared for.
“This is your best proposal?”
His excitement pressed to her thigh. He moved it against her, like some snake slithering up a tree, only colder and slimier. She thought of the rebellion, of the frightened refugees, and the millions of dead in this war. Her personal sacrifice seemed trifling in comparison. He released her and tossed the knife away. It skidded and clanged across the floor. He turned her around, njow pressing her against the table, bending her back in the most painful of ways.
“Surely, none that will secure your place in history.”
“Mister romance,” she scoffed.
“You want romance, date a peasant. If you want power…”
She considered the offer for a moment. “If I agree then you will release the bounty hunter? ”
“How do I know he won’t help our enemies?”
“You have my word. Call it a wedding gift.”
He sighed and thought for a moment. “That’s it?’
‘That’s it.”
“Done.” Thomas held her hips and nuzzled his face into Katy’s neck. He didn’t see her grimace. “Now, how about a little prenuptial fun?”
She pushed him away. “I may be easy, but I’m not an idiot. I want proof he has been released.”
“It won’t be that easy. We can’t take a chance that he will tell someone where we are. The corporation would destroy us in an instant. In due time, I promise.”
Monday, May 3, 2010
Angry Jasper: Twenty-six
The guards excused themselves and closed a part of large iron doors as they exited the chamber leaving Kate alone. Katy watched after them before starting through the maze of flowing panels. The doors closed with a resounding thunder that echoed through the dimly lit chamber.. She sighed and went cautiously through the maze until at last she entered the heart of the maze. At the center was a lusciously prepared settee, and a long table drenched in fruits, meats and all manner of drink. At the far end of the table, nearly lost to the glare of a brightly burning candelabra, sat Thomas.
Kate moved to one corner of the table, doing her best to make it look natural, and even sensuous. She drew a luscious green grape from an overflowing bowl, brought it to her lips. Finding his feverish eyes at last Kate drew it into her mouth and bite down, letting a bit of the sweet juice drip down her chin. With her long glistening tongue Kate expertly caught most of the juice.
In a word, Thomas looked like death. Only part of it was due to living a lifetime underground and in the shadows. The rest was no doubt due to a rotted soul and a legendary penchant for hard liquor. His face was drawn, and appeared much longer for his severe hairline. Tatters of wispy white hair fell over small almost frail shoulders. He stood with a sly grin and shuffled towards her. A long thin white robe did little to hide his growing manhood, and in the most disgusting way possible. Indeed, it was all Katy could do not to grimace or laugh altogether.
She followed his eyes as he came around behind her and ran his long fingers over her breasts. She felt his manhood push against her ass. Not like a lover, or as a man deprived, but as a letch whose only interest was his own. She fought the urge to gag and smiled.
“I’ve killed men for less,” she said coyly.
Thomas chuckled, still rubbing against her. “Oh. I’d gladly die for these.”
She turned and forced him back with her eyes. Katy looked knowingly down his body. “And better men too.”
Thomas laughed nervously. “Glad you are on my side, Kate.”
“Your side?” she replied. “I’m on the rebel side. For now our interests just happen to coincide.”
Something in her tone struck a certain fear in him. Maybe it was her pure sense of duty, or her commitment to the rebel cause above all else. That alone was far different, even refreshing, from the sniveling ass-kissers of his inner circle. Maybe it was that side of every woman that too dangerous to cross. He flushed red and modestly covered his still engorged lap as he withdrew.
“Oh, Kate, where would I be without you?”
She did not reply. Katy looked around at the sumptuous extravagance and recalled the refugees and wounded in the passage. Thomas snapped his fingers and children in raggedy clothes and shoes scurried from the shadows with in bread and more expensive brandy made from the pure eons old water from comets. He flipped a few coins across the floor at the little wretches and waved them away like they were pesky insects. The faint thump of a renewed Corporate bombardment shook the chamber and rattled the chandelier. Thomas seemed entirely indifferent to it.
“The city is taking a terrible beating,” she said. “Is it worth the cost?’
“Suffering steels the soul,” he said dismissively, sucking down several fat green grapes.
“Whose suffering?”
“Why the rebellion’s, of course!”
“And your suffering, Thomas?”
“I suffer for the misery of my people,” he said, laying a hand upon his heart.
Katy looked around the chamber. “I see.”
Thomas turned, his expression dangerous and Deadly. There was a sublime immorality to it, an almost inhuman immorality that made Ka ty blood run cold.. She didn't believe in the world evil, but momentarily at a loss for words, this was about as close as she could recall coming to it. Hell, Maury was a boy scout compared to Thomas. It was as if she had awakened a viper. She loved playing with vipers, and she was only to eager to show her disdain for him, that is without necessarily going too far..
“No one follows a pauper. Be careful, Katy. I might begin to take umbrage at your accusation!”
“Have I accused?” Katy shrugged. She felt a deep satisfaction that he seemed about to explode. Her eyes, heavy with sex, stopped him at just the precise moment.
“Never mind,” he waved. “”I know this must seem like something of a surprise.”
“A bit.”
“I know well of your exploits, Kate.”
“Oh?”
“I've had my eye on you. When I heard you hace been captured I made an overture to the Corporation and your Governor Maury.”
“For little old me?” The whole thing sounded a bit flimsy to her. He changed the subject.
“So I’ll ask you about this bounty hunter?”
“What’s to tell?” Her heart skipped a beat. Katy wondered what Thomas was getting at. He stared at her, as if trying to ferret out some subterfuge.
“Now it’s I who accuse.” He smiled a ragged and sickly smile.
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” he asked.
“An old client.” Her eyes flashed to his. Katy winked and manufactured a sly smile. “A good lay.”
He seemed to accept the explanation well enough and offered her a seat. “Shame your cover was blown. No pun intended. Your loss in that regard will be sorely missed.”
Katy took a sip of red wine from a big fat crystal chalice. It was dry to the taste, but the aroma filled her sense with raspberry, a touch of vanilla and oak. “I look forward to serving the rebellion in some other capacity.”
Thomas leaned back in his chair and rubbed his groin beneath the table. “Which is why I summoned you here, Kate.”
Kate moved to one corner of the table, doing her best to make it look natural, and even sensuous. She drew a luscious green grape from an overflowing bowl, brought it to her lips. Finding his feverish eyes at last Kate drew it into her mouth and bite down, letting a bit of the sweet juice drip down her chin. With her long glistening tongue Kate expertly caught most of the juice.
In a word, Thomas looked like death. Only part of it was due to living a lifetime underground and in the shadows. The rest was no doubt due to a rotted soul and a legendary penchant for hard liquor. His face was drawn, and appeared much longer for his severe hairline. Tatters of wispy white hair fell over small almost frail shoulders. He stood with a sly grin and shuffled towards her. A long thin white robe did little to hide his growing manhood, and in the most disgusting way possible. Indeed, it was all Katy could do not to grimace or laugh altogether.
She followed his eyes as he came around behind her and ran his long fingers over her breasts. She felt his manhood push against her ass. Not like a lover, or as a man deprived, but as a letch whose only interest was his own. She fought the urge to gag and smiled.
“I’ve killed men for less,” she said coyly.
Thomas chuckled, still rubbing against her. “Oh. I’d gladly die for these.”
She turned and forced him back with her eyes. Katy looked knowingly down his body. “And better men too.”
Thomas laughed nervously. “Glad you are on my side, Kate.”
“Your side?” she replied. “I’m on the rebel side. For now our interests just happen to coincide.”
Something in her tone struck a certain fear in him. Maybe it was her pure sense of duty, or her commitment to the rebel cause above all else. That alone was far different, even refreshing, from the sniveling ass-kissers of his inner circle. Maybe it was that side of every woman that too dangerous to cross. He flushed red and modestly covered his still engorged lap as he withdrew.
“Oh, Kate, where would I be without you?”
She did not reply. Katy looked around at the sumptuous extravagance and recalled the refugees and wounded in the passage. Thomas snapped his fingers and children in raggedy clothes and shoes scurried from the shadows with in bread and more expensive brandy made from the pure eons old water from comets. He flipped a few coins across the floor at the little wretches and waved them away like they were pesky insects. The faint thump of a renewed Corporate bombardment shook the chamber and rattled the chandelier. Thomas seemed entirely indifferent to it.
“The city is taking a terrible beating,” she said. “Is it worth the cost?’
“Suffering steels the soul,” he said dismissively, sucking down several fat green grapes.
“Whose suffering?”
“Why the rebellion’s, of course!”
“And your suffering, Thomas?”
“I suffer for the misery of my people,” he said, laying a hand upon his heart.
Katy looked around the chamber. “I see.”
Thomas turned, his expression dangerous and Deadly. There was a sublime immorality to it, an almost inhuman immorality that made Ka ty blood run cold.. She didn't believe in the world evil, but momentarily at a loss for words, this was about as close as she could recall coming to it. Hell, Maury was a boy scout compared to Thomas. It was as if she had awakened a viper. She loved playing with vipers, and she was only to eager to show her disdain for him, that is without necessarily going too far..
“No one follows a pauper. Be careful, Katy. I might begin to take umbrage at your accusation!”
“Have I accused?” Katy shrugged. She felt a deep satisfaction that he seemed about to explode. Her eyes, heavy with sex, stopped him at just the precise moment.
“Never mind,” he waved. “”I know this must seem like something of a surprise.”
“A bit.”
“I know well of your exploits, Kate.”
“Oh?”
“I've had my eye on you. When I heard you hace been captured I made an overture to the Corporation and your Governor Maury.”
“For little old me?” The whole thing sounded a bit flimsy to her. He changed the subject.
“So I’ll ask you about this bounty hunter?”
“What’s to tell?” Her heart skipped a beat. Katy wondered what Thomas was getting at. He stared at her, as if trying to ferret out some subterfuge.
“Now it’s I who accuse.” He smiled a ragged and sickly smile.
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” he asked.
“An old client.” Her eyes flashed to his. Katy winked and manufactured a sly smile. “A good lay.”
He seemed to accept the explanation well enough and offered her a seat. “Shame your cover was blown. No pun intended. Your loss in that regard will be sorely missed.”
Katy took a sip of red wine from a big fat crystal chalice. It was dry to the taste, but the aroma filled her sense with raspberry, a touch of vanilla and oak. “I look forward to serving the rebellion in some other capacity.”
Thomas leaned back in his chair and rubbed his groin beneath the table. “Which is why I summoned you here, Kate.”
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