Emerald Sea John Ringo
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CHAPTER NINEPaul looked slightly shamefaced when he woke up in a pile of female limbs. But the first thing he saw was Megan, leaning on one arm, watching him. "Was it just my imagination, or did I see your face in the middle of . . . this," he asked, gesturing at the girls, most of whom were still sleeping. "It wasn't your imagination," Megan replied, shrugging. He watched the way that moved her breasts and shook his head. "I . . . didn't figure you for this sort of thing," he said, carefully. "Neither did I," Megan admitted. "But it was pretty fun once I got over the idea." "I have to get up," Paul said, trying to figure out how to crawl out and disturb the least number of people. "You are staying here at least one more day," Megan said, sternly. "You looked like death-on-a-cracker when you came in and you still don't look good." "I've got things I have to do," Paul said. "Besides go to the bathroom." "It's over there." Megan gestured with her chin. "But you'd better come back out, too." "I will," Paul said. When he came back out he was wearing one of the standard robes and he sat down on a pillow, turning his head to the side as he contemplated Megan. "What are you doing awake at . . ." he paused and obviously consulted the Net, "three a.m.?" "I get enough sleep in the harem." Megan shrugged. "I wasn't tired. I was watching you." "Watching me sleep?" Paul asked. "Or watching over me?" "A little of both. Watching and thinking." "How easy it would be to kill me?" Paul asked. "Damage you, yes," Megan said. "Kill would be for all practical purposes impossible. And if I even tried, well, the best that might happen is that I'd wind up like Amber. And, hell, I don't want to kill you. I did at first, but I don't want to anymore." "Do you know why?" he asked quietly. "No," Megan replied, sitting up. "Tell me, O Wise One." Paul smiled and said something softly. "Have you ever heard of the Sabine women?" Paul asked. Megan thought about it for a long time and then shook her head. "I think my mother mentioned the term," she said. "But I don't recall anything about it." "Very old legend," Paul said, taking a sip of wine. "The Romans were short on women so they invited a neighboring tribe, the Sabines, to a festival in honor of the gods. Under a binding truce of course. At the height of the party, the Roman young men took off with the Sabine's wives and daughters while the older men held off the Sabines. Then they raped them and took them as their wives. Quite a few years later the Sabines had built up enough force to fight the Romans and, hopefully, destroy them. But the Sabine women convinced them not to kill their new husbands. After a while the Sabine tribe was absorbed by the Romans." Megan frowned. "It's a legend." "A legend that has had a ring of truth to this day." Paul sighed. "Because the psychological basis of it started to be understood in the twentieth century, starting with something called the Stockholm Effect. People tend to bond to their captors in personalized imprisonments. Most of the real-life examples have faded over the last few millennia but there are tens of thousands of them that have been studied. And the psycho-physiological effects, even the evolutionary bases, are easily traceable. Women who have been kidnapped and imprisoned tend to bond to their captors even more readily and to fall in love with them. Tend. Not always, humans are individuals. But it's the majority." "I've fallen in love with my kidnapper," she said, hanging her head. "You've fallen in love with your kidnapper," Paul confirmed. "It's not nice, it's not the way that things are 'supposed' to be. But it's very real and it's very human and it's something that I counted upon when I set up this . . . group. It probably goes back to prehuman conditions. Young female chimpanzees that are thrown out of their packs are often found by males from other packs. When they are, they are forced back to the area that the females stay in and are brutalized until they stay there of their own free will. To the point of preventing new females from attempting to escape. I have not brutalized you girls, but do you think Christel, for example, would support any plans to escape?" "No," Megan said. "I could postulate a race which is different," he paused and chuckled grimly. "Actually, I don't have to. The elves are different. Attempt to rape or imprison an elf and you'd better have lots of chains. And a gag." "You haven't . . ." Megan said, her eyes wide. "Never," Paul replied, definitely. "But some have tried from time to time, especially in the years when they lived among humans; elves were always beautiful. But the elves have no submit in them. They do not change their . . . emotions under stress. Put them in an imprisonment situation and they will always try to escape. They will tend, very hard, to try to kill their guards, even if it means their own deaths. Humans, though, tend to make the best of a bad situation. Even to the point of falling in love." He looked at her tenderly and smiled. "I take it you're human?" "Very," she admitted. "Amber, though, seemed to be part elf," Paul sighed. "She never would submit to this necessity and when she plotted to kill Christel and escape I was forced to make her . . . more compliant." Megan shuddered and shook her head. "Paul, do me a favor. If I ever go insane and do something that makes you have to do that, just kill me, okay?" "I truly hope it never comes to that. You can't kill me, you know," he added, looking at her. "And if you even managed it through some miracle, it would be worse than it is now. That is part of this effect; faced with unpalatable choices humans choose the lesser of the evils and live through them as best they can. But you don't want to anymore, do you?" She thought of all the nights that she had cried for her loss and the pain. And of all the times they had talked. She probably knew more about the inner workings of the New Destiny faction than anyone not a part of it. And she knew that she no longer wanted to kill him. It didn't mean she wouldn't, but she didn't want to. "No," she answered honestly, dipping her head again and fighting not to cry. "If it helps you at all, I love you, too," Paul said. "You're . . . very precious to me. Sometimes when I come here it is only to see you. I can't talk to other people as I can with you. I certainly can't to anyone outside this group and of all the ones in it, the only other one that had your clarity of mind and ability to listen and make useful comments was Amber. And in the end, I had to make her safe." "I won't force you to do the same to me," Megan said. "At least, I hope I never do." "Do you know why the caged nightingale won't sing?" Paul asked. "You said that before," she said, looking up with unshed tears in her eyes. "It is because it knows that it is supposed to fly free," Paul said. "When you can't sing anymore, I'll know that it is time to release you . . . or know that you will never sing again." He looked at her sadly for a moment then stood up. "I have to go." "Paul, you are not going anywhere," Megan said. "You're still not strong enough." "I have things I have to do, Megan," Paul said. But when he stood he swayed on his feet. "There," Megan said, triumphantly. "Blood flow, that's all," Paul said. "I stood up too fast." "I'll wake everybody up again and we'll start all over," Megan warned. "Where do you have to be? What can't you do from right here?" "I need . . . I don't have to be anywhere. But I need to recall my avatars and find out what they have been doing while I've been . . . busy." "You've got projections running and not monitoring them?" Megan asked. "They're sentient avatars," Paul corrected. "For all practical purposes they are me. It was proscribed pre-Fall, but it's the only way to keep track of what is going on. I need to recall them, soon. They're not . . . fully stable. I need to recall them and then send out new ones." "Well, you can do that here," Megan said. "Right?" "I need to be undisturbed," Paul pointed out. "There's an empty room right there," Megan said, pointing at his chamber. "And I'll make sure you're not disturbed. And when you're done, I'll make sure that you're fed and comforted and cosseted and . . ." "Okay, okay." Paul laughed, hushing himself as one of the other girls stirred and snaked a hand across the body next to her. "I'll go in there." "And I'll watch. Is there anything I should be aware of?" "No, it's a harmless procedure," Paul said, walking to the room. "Mostly." Paul reclined on one of the pillows and closed his eyes, appearing to go back to sleep or into a trance. But almost immediately he began to twitch as if hit by some invisible force. And he muttered. "Bloody hell . . ." Pause. "No, no, no how stupid can one vacuous bitch be? Released?" Pause. "Ekmantan." Pause. "Ships? Dragon-carriers?" Pause. "Damn them." "Talbot." A hiss of anger. It went on for what seemed like hours and he became drenched with sweat, the increasing anger boiling off of him like a vapor. She rose after a while and left quietly. All of the other girls were still in sodden slumber so she picked through the detritus of the orgy until she found the remains of the carafe of wine and a jug of water. She carried both in and resumed her vigil. Paul finally settled down, stopped twitching, mostly, and appeared to dream. He muttered from time to time unintelligibly. She listened as closely as she could but there was nothing that was understandable. Finally, he opened his eyes, looking wan and pale. "Harmless, huh?" she asked, sitting him up and propping pillows behind him. She held a glass of wine to his lips and then followed it with water. "This one was harder than normal," he admitted. "I'd been away too long." "And you do this regularly?" she asked. "Usually every day," Paul admitted. "It's how I keep track." "What are dragon-carriers?" she asked. He looked at her sharply, then shrugged. "The UFS has rigged out one of the warships to land and launch wyverns and greater dragons," Paul said. "I'd heard about it, but didn't really expect it to work. Well, it did. They destroyed the force that we sent down to the Isles to disrupt their negotiations with the mer. Now Chansa wants to build some of his own, so he can protect the invasion fleet." "What do you think?" Megan asked. "I think we're playing to their game and that's what I told Chansa," Paul replied. "We're just about evenly matched for power at this point, so we can't use that against them. But just making our own carriers isn't going to win us control of the sea. We need something to deal with the dragons. I told him to consult with Celine about modifying our dragons and get a group together to consider how to counter theirs." "Do you think it will work?" Megan asked, handing him the water. "We have to take Norau," Paul shrugged. "There are five power plants in Norau. We've tried everything from sedition to infiltrating attack teams, but most of them are well away from the coast and we can't use teleport. If we take the plants, or capture that bitch Sheida Ghorbani, the war will be over. But taking it will be . . . difficult. They've armed every peasant in the field and they make them train with the arms. There are areas that haven't done that, though, because Sheida's too stupid to make them. We're going to concentrate our attack on those areas. But we have to get there first, which means controlling the ocean. And we can't do that if one carrier can destroy six of our ships, five of them without ever coming in sight of the ships. And the carrier had less than a full complement of dragons." "What are dragons afraid of?" Megan said. She'd wished for a month now that she had some way to get word to the other side. This was operational intelligence, stuff that could be acted on. Especially if she found out the counter plans. She had to figure some way to smuggle out information. There had to be a way. "Nothing that I'm aware of," he said, getting a far away look as he accessed the Net. "Their wings are monomolecule fibers, so no hurting them there. Their underbellies aren't, though. I'd say that a well-placed ballista bolt would take one down." "Lots of dragons?" Megan prompted. "Lots of bolts," Paul smiled in response. "Chansa's problem, I'll let him come up with the solution." "Who is Talbot?" Megan asked. "You've mentioned him before." "Duke the Honorable Charles or Edmund, take your pick, fucking Talbot," Paul said with a frown. "He was one of Sheida's little fuck boys before she became a council member. He apparently threw her over for her sister. He's now the commander of the eastern defenses in Norau and he was on the mission to the mer-folk. Apparently he put some spine in those Changed abominations, because they killed everything that Chansa sent at them. Chansa is simply furious. He not only lost the orcas and a kraken but a reasonably competent field agent and a very good source. All thanks to Duke Fucking Talbot." Megan decided that she much wanted to meet "Duke Fucking Talbot" someday and give him a very friendly kiss. "And the rest?" "We've settled the negotiations with the replacement for Minjie's replacement," Paul said with a grin. "You had a perfect plan there, my dear. I let Celine handle all the arrangements. I understand they almost have the blood off the walls. She sent a very small and somewhat intelligent spider into his quarters. When he was in flagrante delicto, it bit him and paralyzed him. Then its momma came in and finished off the job." "What happened to the girl?" Megan said, horrified. "Boy as it turns out," Paul replied. "Nothing, the spiders had very specific instructions. I made that clear to Celine. Much more horrible that way." "Paul," Megan said, glancing around. "I can't guarantee I'd notice a spider." "I would, my dear," Paul smiled. "I don't keep up a PPF when I'm with you ladies, but nothing can come in or out." "I got food and drink from the kitchen," Megan pointed out. "Only because I relaxed the protocols to let you," Paul replied. "And the kitchen itself is sealed. I also sweep for anything that might be one of Celine's little monsters, not to mention poisons. You have a few lovely items in your lab, by the way. What do you use sulfuric acid for?" "Reagent," Megan said. "It's used to transform some of the products that I get to add a sulfur molecule. That makes them more volatile." "Ah," Paul said, getting a far-away look. "Actually, most of the stuff that you use for perfumes is poisonous in sufficient concentration." He looked at her and smiled. "But not to me, of course. It takes something much more subtle than concentrate of rose hips." "People used to die from cosmetic poisoning," Megan shrugged. "Heavy metals. And painting. Painters didn't always start mad, but lick enough paint brushes that have been covered in vermilion, which was basically mercury, and you get a little brain addled. Not to mention that lovely yellow from lead." Paul got a far away look again and then smiled. "You are a font of knowledge my dear." "I like chemistry," Megan said with a shrug. Of course, mostly from a forensic side, but let's not go there. "Half of chemistry is knowing what you don't want to swallow." Paul yawned and smiled at her. "Could I convince you to snuggle down here with me?" he asked, patting at the cushions. "Just like two people who enjoy each other? Not one of my girls who feel they have to . . . service me. Just . . . friends?" "Yes, Paul," she said, lying down in his arms. "I think we could do that." "Always sing for me," he murmured as he coasted on the edge of sleep. "Always, my dear," she whispered. Till death do us part. AppendixNew Destiny Key-holders1. Paul Bowman, Leader of New Destiny, Minister for Ropasa 2. Chansa Mulengela, Minister for Frika, Marshall of the Great Army 3. Celine Reinshafen, Minister for Ephresia, Chief of Research and Development 4. Lupe Ugatu (Vice Minjie Jiaqi), Governor of Hindi (in dispute) 5. Reyes Cho, Minister for Soam 6. Jassinte Arizzi, Minister for Chin (in dispute) 7. Demon, lone actor Freedom Coalition Key-holders1. Sheida Ghorbani, Her Majesty of the United Free States, Chairman of the Freedom Coalition 2. Ungphakorn, Lord of Soam 3. Ishtar, Counselor of Taurania and the Stanis States 4. Aikawa Gouvois, Emperor of Chin 5. Lenora Sill Neutral:The Finn |