botias | Between Two Evils

Allura's not having a good night; Lotor's not faring much better. How to rate this chapter? Some mild violence and peril, brothels, perversions.

Previous Chapters Here

Chapter 10

“So, you object to foursomes.”

Stony silence.

“Would it help if they were midgets? You might not even notice them amongst the covers.”

Lotor's behavior was supremely beneath her notice. Allura had concentrated on putting one foot in front of another as she climbed the stone steps to the palatial residence that seemed to take up an entire side of the great square.

“No? Amputees? Contortionists?”

She had almost stumbled—almost.

But, Lotor hadn't been finished. Putting his hands at her waist to steady her, he'd leaned down next to her ear.

“Non-sentients?”

Whether it had been the very idea, or his insinuating tone of voice—Allura had been unable to conceal a gasp.

Laughing, Lotor had swept her up, carrying her the rest of the way up the steps.

Fuming in the circle of his arms, Allura had felt her face burn beneath her mask.

I object to non-sentients, she'd thought nastily—but I think I'm adjusting very well under the circumstances.

She'd been so angry with Lotor earlier that evening. It couldn't have been that long ago, a few hours perhaps, yet it felt like a dream. A pleasant one compared to the present reality. She would have gladly traded Lotor's taunts for the nasty man's angry silence as he marched her up the steps of a much less palatial establishment.

It was another brothel, no doubt.

“You are going to finance a new life for me,” he said then, in a low, urgent tone. Allura hissed in pain and anger as she stubbed her toe on a stone step and felt his fingers tighten painfully on her arm. He was going much too fast for her to keep up easily—her hands were bound behind her back with one of her scarves—but he seemed not to notice.

Allura was forced to slow when her path was blocked by an anonymous group coming down the steps in dark great coats and pale masks. She cried out when she was yanked forward—her arm was beginning to feel quite bruised.

“That hurts!”

He went on as if she hadn't spoken. “That you walked into my reach, then returned so quickly to my grasp, can only mean you are a gift from Fortune, meant to restore something of what has been taken from me!”

When they reached the landing, he pulled her aside and turned her to face him.

Holding her by her upper arms, he gave her a little shake. “Are you going to behave this time?”

Allura regarded him mutinously from under the hood of his cloak, wishing she could see the bruise forming on his jaw.

He made an exasperated sound. “If you behave, I may just leave word of where you are after I am safely away.”

Allura blinked in surprise, intrigued in spite of herself. “How do I know you will do it?”

“You don't,” he said. “But, so help me,” he stabbed a finger at her, “if you tell this brothel master that you are a pyromaniac, you may find the condition is catching! Do you understand?”

Allura glared at him, without effect since her own mask was in place, then she gave a grudging nod.

“Very treatable with the right medications,” he muttered under his breath, “I am beginning to think he deserves you.”

Allura swallowed nervously as he turned to grasp an ornate door handle in the form of a winged woman arching into flight. If this brothel master looked at her as the last one had done, she was just going to have to test the consequences of misbehaving.

He hadn't even opened the door before the sound of angry shouts and barked commands turned both of their heads.

Allura's eyes widened; in the street below a unit of soldiers was pushing their way through the sea of festival goers, their rank and file in clear contrast.

Imperial Soldiers, and they were coming in her direction.

For the first time in her life, this pleased her. It pleased her immensely. As she watched, six of them peeled away and took position in front an entrance some way down on the other side of the street. More shouting and shoving ensued as they proceeded to barricade the stairs. Meanwhile, their comrades were rapidly coming closer.

***

“Prince Lotor, what is the meaning of this? You agreed that my people would take care of it.”

Lotor leaned back in the chair behind Admes' desk. “Regent, how lovely to speak you again.”

The Regent glared at him from the viewscreen, her silver hair bristling. “Don't give me that. If you land any more troops, there are going to be problems.” She was dressed for a ball—but looked as though she would prefer to attend his beheading.

“They're not troops, Regent. They are... a security detail for myself and my companion.”

“Security detail— They're all over town!!”

He spread one hand in a negligent gesture. “Well, she could be anywhere after all.”

The Regent did not look impressed. “It seems they are not letting anyone into the brothels or the slave markets; neither are they letting anyone leave without demasking first. I'm sure you are quite aware of the absolute uproar that is causing.”

When Lotor didn't deign to reply, the Regent narrowed her gaze.

After a moment, she said, “How rude of me. I haven't asked after your father. Is he in good health?”

Lotor tensed. Already impatient with the conversation, he felt his temper flare. “Don't push me,” he snapped. “The battleships in orbit are under my command, not his.”

He smiled as he watched the Regent bristle still more at the threat. “I am his only son and heir. He always forgives me eventually—no matter what I blow up.”

Before the Regent could respond to the stick—or examine it too closely—he offered a carrot. “Please, Regent, let us not quarrel. My intentions are peaceful in spite of the fact that one of your subjects has stolen one of my most prized possessions. I will be on my way as soon as I get it back.”

The Regent seemed to consider this, her dark eyes boring into his soul.

“You have until dawn. No more troops,” she said finally, and cut the connection.

Lotor's smile disappeared just as quickly.

Behind him, Admes spoke from the shadows. “Still playing dangerous games, Lotor—you haven't changed at all.”

Lotor got up and headed for the door. Usually he sat back and let his men do the work; that's what they were for after all, but he was in no mood for it tonight. “If you'll excuse me, I am now going to go play the 'find my wife' game and the 'send the foolish lordling to be in heaven with his mommy and daddy' game."

Under the circumstances, his words were unpardonably cruel, but Lotor wasn't surprised when Admes ignored them and followed him out of the room, matching him stride for stride even in the elaborate gown. Admes had never been the miss-ish type. Soon after his arrival in Nephalem they had become close companions in debauchery, kindred spirits in many ways—except for Admes' fixation on a particular lover, one who had been proving difficult.

Lotor hadn't understood, but that hadn't stopped him from using that fixation to his own advantage.

“If you fire on Nephalem,” Admes said in an urgent tone, “the Alliance will annihilate you, and your father will probably let them.”

Lotor set his teeth.

It was true, every word. Nephalem was not a member of the GA—they hadn't kept their sovereignty all these centuries by taking sides—but the Alliance would respond swiftly and aggressively nevertheless, due to cultural ties, treaty agreements—and the great deal of anonymous wealth in Nephalem banks. His father would be beyond furious, not least because Nephalem brokered vital deals for him with ostensibly Alliance-friendly planets. Presented with a choice between a pan-galactic war not of his making, humbling himself to the GA, or sacrificing his troublesome son...

“It doesn't matter,” he growled, “I'll find her long before the Regent's ridiculous deadline.”

Perhaps it was just as well that his hands were tied so long as Allura was here—at the moment he felt like telling them all to go fuck themselves.

“I can help you, Lotor. You must know that you have no friends here, but I have many.”

Lotor sneered, “Then they must not know the part you played. Aolani must not, if he befriended you.”

Admes made an impatient sound, reaching out to take a hard grip on his arm. “I saw the way you looked at her. If you lose her, nothing will ever be quite the same. I learned that much ten years ago.”

The urgent words stopped Lotor in his tracks. He didn't look at Admes—wouldn't—but he could feel those dark eyes fixed on him.

“Matheus is all I have left of Richard. I will help you once more, and in return you will promise to spare Matheus's life.”

The very idea brought a welcome rage. “You saw nothing.” He yanked his arm from Admes' grasp. “You haven't changed either," he snarled, "Still a sentimental fool. No one steals from me and gets away with it!”

***

“Here! Over—Aahh!”

Allura found herself being yanked down the brothel steps even faster than she had been pulled up them and then down the street in the opposite direction of the soldiers.

Still shouting, she attempted to plant her feet.

When that didn't work, she let herself fall. Her knees hit the stones, but all she felt was elation when the grip on her arm faltered and fell away. Rolling, she worked to gain her feet, her thoughts focused on the rescue so close at hand. She was very quick, quicker than her captor—perhaps she would even have succeeded if her hands hadn't been bound.

She screamed when she felt his hands close on her again. No one seemed to pay any attention. People were either gawking at the soldiers, or hurrying away from them. Soon they were lost in the anonymous crowd.

Her nemesis seemed to have a destination in mind as he bundled her along, but twice he was forced to change direction to avoid Imperial soldiers, clamping a hand firmly over her mouth until he was certain he was well away. Finally, he pulled her down a dark, narrow side street not unlike the one in which she had first confronted him. They traversed it in silence for some distance, only passing two other people.

Allura's steps grew more and more reluctant as they drew farther away from the crowds and soldiers. Finally the street opened out onto a small moonlit square with a central fountain. Parked off to one side, almost completely hidden in the shadows of the buildings, were a couple of sleek dark vehicles like the one she and Lotor had ridden in. She followed her captor across the bricks, stopping with him in front a small lamp next to a fancifully carved door shining with gilt.

Allura stood silently for the moment, her various aches, pains and disappointments beginning to make themselves felt: her throat felt tender from screams, her hand throbbed and her stockings were sticking to her legs in a way that told her she had probably scraped them nicely. Also stealing some of her fight was that she had seen her rescue coming with her own eyes. Now if only it would arrive.

There was a flash of movement behind a small brass grate set in the door. “I'm sorry,” came a man's cool voice. “Members only.”

Allura felt her hood tugged off her hair; then her mask was removed. “I'm not buying tonight. I'm selling. Interested?”

***

She had been interested, as it happened, a finely-dressed, businesslike woman named Merta. Though no particular beauty and no longer in the first flush of youth, she knew how to make the most of what she had. Allura stood silently in her nicely-appointed office as her new 'owner' looked her over.

One of the woman's first acts had been to free her hands, but Allura suspected it was no coincidence that the woman was standing between herself and the door.

Allura scowled, and pulled her remaining scarf closer around her shoulders. Her jewelry was gone with her abductor, more 'gifts from Fortune' apparently. Earlier that evening--it seemed so long ago--Allura had reluctantly set aside the circlet and torque that were the symbols of her rule on Arus (former rule? Allura had never bothered to ask); she was grateful now that Lotor had insisted on it. It comforted her to think that they were safe, waiting for her return.

The door opened and closed then; it was the woman's second-in-command, returning from seeing her abductor out.

“Would you look at that, Jarvis,” the woman said, not looking away, “You don't come across a piece like this every day.”

Jarvis came to stand beside his boss; he crossed his thick arms over his chest. “You don't lose one like it either. Sell her as-is, tonight, Merta.” He glanced at his boss. “Most everyone is townside right now--you'll still get a decent price.”

Merta smiled cynically. “What? You don't think he won her in a card game?”

Jarvis didn't smile at all. “After a se'nnight? Maybe. But not early in the first.”

Clearly there was no point in appealing to Merta on the grounds that she had been 'stolen'. Allura watched as the woman continued to look her over, seemingly considering his advice, but the abstracted look in her eye didn't change. She was already counting her unexpected windfall.

“Stash her in with the sweets,” Merta said. Her tone made it clear that her decision was made, “I'll give her a full exam in the morning.”

Allura tensed, not liking the sound of a 'full exam', her gaze flickering to Merta and then to Jarvis, who had already stepped back, gesturing for her to precede him. She made herself relax. The longer she stayed in one place the sooner Lotor would find her. Her ordeal must be nearly over now; his soldiers had been everywhere.

Allura walked down the rather plain hallway she was shown to; the luxury of the office and public areas did not extend here. She was aware of Jarvis at her back. He hadn't made much of an effort to hide his disapproval of his boss's decision, and she thought she could feel his brooding gaze between her shoulder blades.

“Stop here.”

Allura stopped, holding herself very straight. Jarvis unlocked an unmarked door. “In with you,” he growled.

Allura stumbled a little as she was pushed into the room; she spun around, but the door was already sealing shut. For a moment she stood, staring at it, sagging a little with relief that he had not followed her inside.

When she turned back, her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, and she found she was not alone after all. Seated on a number of thin mattresses on the carpeted floor were about a dozen other inhabitants. Both sexes were represented and a few different races; all were clean, even-featured and healthy, some were striking. Allura clapped a hand over her mouth. Not a single one looked to be over the age of twelve.

***

Allura woke, blinking, unsure of where she was for a moment. It was the smell that reminded her, disinfectant masking other scents. She looked down. There was a sleeping child curled against her: a mop of dark hair and a lean arm banding equally lean legs. Feeling a resurgence of sorrow and disgust, she resisted the urge to give the child a comforting touch, not wanted to wake or startle her.

She hadn't meant to doze off at all, but she had the sense that she had slept for some time and clearly no rescue had come. The thought brought a flash of fear. Pushing with one hand, the other cradled against her chest, Allura eased herself more upright where she was sitting with her back against the wall. That was when she noticed her.

The woman was facing a little away from her, wearing a pale satin robe belted at the waist, silently looking over the sleeping children. Perhaps some sound she had made had been what woke her. As Allura watched, the woman selected a girl and pulled her to her feet sleepily protesting.

The sight cut through any remaining drowsiness; Allura pushed herself to her feet. “Let her go,” she said, her voice sharp with command.

The woman made a startled sound and turned to face her, but didn't release her selection. “You scared me!” She scowled at Allura, and looked her up and down. “I didn't even hear you come in.” With a last annoyed look, she turned and began to lead her reluctant charge toward the door. “Find your own.”

Allura cut her off.

The startled woman fell back a step. “Let her go,” Allura repeated, in no mood to mince words.

The woman stared at her, her pretty face set in an expression of disbelief. Then she scowled. “Last warning, Sweetie. Mess with me and you'll be on the 'All She Can Eat' buffet wearing a ring gag.”

Allura didn't understand a word, but it hardly mattered. “I don't care. You're not leaving with her.”

Perhaps their hard, angry voices were a little too much. The girl in question began to sob.

“Now look what you've done.” the woman said, flinging up a hand in a gesture of disgust. “He prefers it if they aren't already cry—”

Allura remembered her injured hand when it connected with the woman's face. She felt tears fill her eyes as the pain shot up her arm, reverberated along her bones. The fight, if it could be called that, was short. Allura had taken her completely by surprise. Feeling sick and despairing rather than triumphant, Allura pinned her as she cursed and kicked.

Slowly and painfully, favoring her own hand, Allura tied the woman's hands behind her back with the belt of her robe. Her own last scarf served as a gag, cutting off the stream of threats and curses.

The time for waiting for rescue was over. During the tying process, she'd been aware that there was something hard under her knee. A few quick pats located a pocket in the robe.

Allura reached in and pulled out a small ovoid device with a shiny metallic finish. She pointed it away from everyone and pushed the button with her thumb. Shrieking with surprise, she dropped it and fell back onto her behind when it sent a wave of pure pleasure up her hand. She heard a few nervous titters from the children as she stared down at it where it buzzed faintly on the carpet.

Pinning it with a foot, she shut the thing off and tried again. The opposite pocket yielded another device. It took a few tries, moving switches to different positions, but finally, when she thumbed the button on this one, a glowing arc of energy flared to life between the metal pins. Allura smiled.

“You're one craaazy chi-chi.”

Allura looked up. It was one of the boys. The children were all awake now and looking at her; the girl she had stood up for was back among them somewhere; Allura could hear her sniffling. She looked around, frowning, not sure which one had spoken. “I'm not crazy. And I'm not a—a chi-chi. I am going to get out of here, and you are all coming too.”

“Only trouble coming, Chi-chi. Don't you know she got an alarm?”

Allura looked down, her gaze sweeping the bound woman just in time to see her take her thumb off of an over-sized stone in one of her rings—but only for a moment, then she began pressing it again defiantly.

Swift, heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway. Allura looked up to see Jarvis push open the door. If he had been displeased with her before, he looked quite angry now as he took in the tableau; the large, blunt firearm he carried suited him all too well.

Allura's eyes widened, and she felt her stomach twist.

Where was Lotor?

***

Lotor leaned closer to the brothel keeper, his shadow falling across the image of Allura that he had slapped on the man's desk. “If you produce this woman now, I will reward you well, but if my men find her here or if she is ever traced back to you, I will kill everyone you care about and then I will torch this place around your ears.”

“No! No! I haven't seen her. Look where ever you like!”

Lotor straightened and snatched up the image, disgusted with the man's cringing.

He quashed an urge to cut off a few fingers. He had no objections to making mortal enemies, but it was best to make certain they became either dead or enslaved in the process. He had failed with Aolani's little whelp, and now look.

He turned away. At an impatient gesture from him, the sergeant directed the men to begin.

Lotor began to pace. Behind him he heard the sounds of his men searching, but they gave him no comfort. He pushed a hand through his hair. The brothel keeper was not lying; Allura was not here.

As the dawn approached, he was beginning to get more and more frustrated.

He was unused to wanting things that were not easily replaced. The rewards he got from conquest were interchangeable. If one planet was proving to be more difficult than it was worth, there was always the next. But things like time, innocence, Allura... they were different. This fact was causing him an increasing amount of torment as the minutes had turned to hours. He could bomb Nephalem into a glassy spot in the surrounding desert, consequences be damned, but it would not get him back his wife, or undo whatever happened to her under some brothel keeper's tender care.

What might be happening to her right now.

His eyes squeezed shut. The thought made him want to howl.

When the surge of emotion ebbed, he realized that he was shaking. It came as a very unpleasant shock.

Breathing as though he had been running, he clenched his trembling fingers into a fist.

This was ridiculous.

The thoughts came quickly after that, almost tumbling over one another: he should leave—now—withdraw his men before they started a war he couldn't win. His father would be thrilled to declare the marriage void—he might even salvage the fine match that had been arranged for him.

He would get in his ship, and he would leave this torment behind!

Turning on his heel, he walked toward the entrance with long, rapid strides. As he approached it, a soldier rushed to open the door, bowing at the waist.

“Tell the sergeant we're done here,” he ordered as he passed. He lifted his comm and spoke the code for his ground commander. In less than an hour, he would be in his ship, on his way.

on to Chapter 11