Planet of Pain (7 page)

Jo had heard of Talmann, who was said to be brilliant, ruthless, and an iron disciplinarian. The word from captured League personnel was that his own people were more afraid of him than they were of the enemy, so what Jo couldn't understand was why such a man would wish to inspect a bunch of prisoners.

The admiral's party arrived, and in addition to the great man himself there was a colonel, two captains, a lieutenant who looked barely old enough to be in uniform, and no less than six armed troopers.

‘Atten–
shun
!' Sergeant Vaughan snapped, standing behind the line of women, and Jo instinctively straightened her shoulders along with the rest.

Admiral Talmann was tall and astonishingly thin; not at all what she had expected, in fact. He didn't look particularly intimidating – until you saw his eyes, that is. They were pale blue and cold as space, with about as much compassion and humanity as a dust mote floating in the void. Those same eyes looked every woman in the face as he walked slowly down the line – and every woman in turn dropped her gaze under that glacial assault. When he reached Bel he stopped.

‘What in God's name are you wearing, Franklin?' he asked.

‘Hospital gown, sir,' Bel said, clearly taken aback that he knew her name.

‘This is ridiculous. Colonel Ferris, I trust you are making arrangements for these prisoners to be suitably attired? You know my views on tidiness. They look like a gang of ragamuffins at present.'

‘I'm sure we have the matter well in hand, admiral,' the colonel said. ‘Isn't that so, sergeant?'

‘That's correct, sir,' Vaughan said. ‘They'll have new outfits within the hour.'

The admiral switched his attention back to Bel and her makeshift clothing. ‘Take it off.'

‘Sir?' she said, bemused.

‘You heard the admiral!' Sergeant Vaughan barked. ‘Strip off!' Bel's hands flew to the ties on her gown and in no time she was naked. Talmann's eyes tracked over her body, and colour rose to Bel's cheeks. For once her customary aplomb seemed to have deserted her.

‘Remarkable figure, gentlemen, don't you agree?' Talmann mused, and there were nods and murmurs of approval from the attendant officers. Their eyes were mostly on the admiral, however, not Bel, and Jo guessed that the rumours were true: his subordinates really were terrified of him.

‘Sam,' he said, ‘remind me never to promote Major Tucker. The judgement of a man who considers breasts like these “gross” isn't to be trusted, clearly.'

He gave a wintry smile, and Jo realised it was an attempt at humour. She realised too that he must have seen a tape of their interrogation, which seemed so unlikely as to be ludicrous. Why would an admiral be interested in two junior Alliance officers?

‘I'm of the opinion, gentlemen,' he said, turning to his entourage, ‘that one should never hesitate to indulge oneself. Generosity and sacrifice are all well and good, but when the virtuous feelings have evaporated one is left with nothing but regret over an opportunity lost.'

He cast one last rueful glance at Bel, then moved on. But he didn't get far, for Jo was next in line. Those terrible eyes locked on hers, drilling through to her brain like twin lasers.

‘O'Donnell,' he said quietly, ‘I've been meaning to ask you something. Just who is Miss Mickleberry?'

Haltingly, her voice wavering, she told him.

‘And are you?' he asked. ‘Afraid of anything and everything?'

‘I… I suppose I am, sir.'

He nodded slowly. ‘Fear is good, lieutenant. Fear is an honest emotion and you should listen when it speaks to you. Sometimes – just
some
times, mind – it can keep you alive.'

His hands rose to her neck and he began to unfasten the ties on her gown. She was shaking with fear, positive she was about to faint again and almost welcoming the prospect. She thought he would take the gown off, but he unfastened it only as far as her waist. He slipped his hands inside and took hold of her nipples, pinching them between thumb and forefinger. He squeezed hard, watching her face, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Long seconds passed, and finally he released her.

‘No more sensitive than any other woman's,' he said, sounding disappointed. ‘I did wonder.' He stared at her a few moments longer, and then moved on. Linda was standing next to Jo, and he stopped in front of her, too.

‘Generosity and sacrifice do have their limits, however,' he muttered. ‘Linda Kepler; captain; NWA-722-JA-1127. Current posting First Reconnaissance Group, Dragonfly squadron. Previous posting Second Attack Group, Panther squadron. Do I have the details correct?'

‘Yes, sir,' Linda said anxiously.

‘Second Attack Group provided fighter cover during the raid on the League base at Zeta, of course; that is common knowledge. I assume you took part in that operation?'

There was no trace of humour now, only a terrible stillness and a dreadful sense of malice. Linda hesitated before answering, and Jo remembered Sergeant Vaughan's warning about never lying to this man. Perhaps Linda remembered it too, for she nodded jerkily.

‘I… yes, sir.'

As soon as the words were spoken the admiral seemed to lose interest in her, and indeed the others in the line.

‘Colonel Ferris,' he said briskly, ‘I'd like a word with you about your proposed route. Walk me to my launch and we'll discuss it along the way.'

He headed for the door with the other officers in tow – and the expression on Linda's face was one of immense relief. It was premature, however; the young lieutenant said something to the guards and two of them took hold of Linda's arms and led her out. She cast a final desperate look at her squad mates, and then she was gone.

The departure of Talmann's party left a stunned silence in their wake. Bel picked her gown up off the floor and put it on, her demeanour troubled. Jo instinctively felt the two of them had been given a huge reprieve, though she didn't understand how or why.

Sergeant Vaughan dismissed them, and in ones and twos the women began to disperse. Bel and Jo went back to their game of chess, but neither seemed able to concentrate.

‘He knew all about us, didn't he?' Jo said. ‘The admiral, he knew about the interrogation and everything.'

‘It seems so,' Bel said quietly.

‘But why?' Jo said. ‘Why would an admiral be interested in a pair of nobodies like us? It doesn't make any sense, does it; unless he thought we really did know something important.'

Bel started to speak, then changed her mind, and something about her demeanour started warning bells ringing in Jo's head.

‘We don't know anything, do we?' she asked.

‘All I know,' Bel said quietly, ‘is that I'm glad we're aboard this ship and not his. I just hope to God Linda's all right.'

So did Jo, but she feared the worst. She could think of a number of reasons why Talmann might take her away, and none of them were good.

 

 

 

 

Soon after the ship started a slow burn. Simgrav compensated for it, and the only thing they felt was a slight shifting of the deck beneath their feet as the field adjusted. The sensation lasted for a second or two only, but there wasn't a woman present who failed to understand the significance. The ship was separating from the fleet, working up speed for a jump, destination unknown.

Despite the uncertainty Jo managed to catch a few hours' sleep. She slept right through the jump, in fact, being woken by Sergeant Vaughan with yet another announcement. It was shift change, he said, and he was now duty sergeant. He read out a list of names that included Bel and Jo, but not Nina.

‘You eight are A-shift,' he said. ‘You report to me. The rest of you are B-shift, reporting to Sergeant Quinn. A meal will shortly be served which A-shift should think of as breakfast, since their working day is just starting, and B-shift as supper, since theirs is just ending. Twelve hours from now the whole thing swaps round. Is everyone clear on the timetable?'

‘Are you saying we only get two meals a day, sir?' Nina asked.

‘That's all you can count on, certainly. Meals are served four times a day for the men, at shift changeover and mid-shift, but whether or not your clients decide to feed you mid-shift is entirely up to them. Meals will only be served in the mess here twice a day, at shift changeover, understood?'

There were nods all round, albeit unhappy ones. Two meals a day sounded pretty dire.

‘Okay; A-shift, listen up,' Vaughan went on. ‘As I've just explained your day starts now. In one hour's time I'll deliver you to your clients, and ten hours after that I'll collect you. You have precisely sixty minutes, therefore, in which to eat breakfast, take a shower, do whatever else you need to do, and assemble here ready to go. Make sure you are punctual. If anyone is late we'll be having our first public flogging.'

On that note of warning he dismissed them, and they all went through into the mess. Though the food wasn't bad Jo found she had little appetite, but she made herself eat, knowing it could be her last for twelve hours. The meal was a subdued affair, particularly for the women on A-shift. Their first assignment was approaching and no one seemed interested in chit-chat. Afterwards they headed for the showers.

‘You okay with what happens next?' Bel asked as they were rinsing off.

‘Sure,' Jo said, forcing a smile. ‘You?'

Bel just shrugged. Her face showed nothing, but Jo was used to that. They dried themselves under the blowers and dressed once more in their hospital gowns and slippers, then went into the dayroom to wait out the remaining time. A couple of the others played checkers – or pretended to – but most just sat staring at the floor. One of the younger women looked close to tears, and Nina sat with her, talking quietly. After a while the young woman smiled and nodded, and wiped her eyes.

‘You'll be fine, Cassie,' Nina said, patting her arm. ‘Just fine.'

Vaughan appeared, looking serious. He called out their names, and one by one they stood up. The eight women followed him out and he delivered them in turn to their designated locations. The first drops were all enlisted men's cabins, and at each one Vaughan had a few words with the occupants before moving on. Bel was the fifth to be delivered, and a whoop went up from the men as she went in. With just three remaining, Vaughan led them up a stairway to another corridor. A tough-looking young woman was next to be handed over, and when Vaughan knocked it was an officer who answered the door.

‘For what we're about to receive…' the woman muttered, winking at Jo as she went in.

Cassie went next, looking very anxious; and last of all – and feeling pretty anxious herself – Jo. The cabin was roomier than she had expected, with a bed, small table, single chair, tall locker, and even a shower/toilet cubicle. As to her client, she'd drawn a captain.

‘I'll be back to collect her in ten hours' time, sir,' Vaughan said.

‘Thank you, sergeant.'

Vaughan nodded at Jo solemnly, which she took for a warning to behave herself, and left.

‘What's your name?' the captain asked.

‘O'Donnell, sir.'

‘No, I mean your first name.'

‘Josephine, sir. Jo, usually.'

‘Let's dispense with the “sirs” shall we? Call me Taks. I doubt you could pronounce the full version.'

He laughed, but it sounded a little forced. He was fairly short, no taller than Jo, and stocky. He looked to be in his early forties. ‘Would you like a drink?' She shook her head. ‘No?' he said. ‘I think I will. Why don't you slip out of your smock, and we can get comfortable.'

He poured himself a drink, then leaned against the bulkhead to watch her undress. Butterflies had started up in her stomach, and her hands were shaking as she unfastened the ties. She took off the gown and laid it across the back of the chair, kicked off her slippers, and turned to face him.

‘Wow,' he drawled, ‘you have a marvellous figure, you know that?'

He went to the bed and sat down, patting the blanket, and on legs that felt oddly stiff she walked over and sat down beside him. He put his hand on her shoulder, and she stiffened.

‘Relax. No one's going to hurt you.'

He stroked her shoulders, arms, neck and breasts, mapping her form. He stroked her ribs, her belly, and her thighs. ‘You're a lovely girl, Jo,' he murmured. ‘How old are you?'

‘Twenty.'

His hand pushed between her legs, and one finger penetrated her. She gave a soft, involuntary gasp of alarm, and her knees pressed together.

‘Easy, easy,' he crooned. ‘You've done this before, right? I can't believe an attractive girl like you is a virgin.'

He flexed his finger inside her, smiling as he watched her face. He did this for a while, but his movements were restricted and she could sense his growing impatience.

‘This is no good,' he said at last. ‘Lay back. Spread your legs.'