In Conquest Born, page 54
They wore slick synthetic clothing which hid little of them, and the women dyed their hair bright blues and greens and purples, to match their garments. The hospital I was in was decorated in the same colors, and the men who tended to me wore heavy jewelry in complimentary hues. They tried to teach me their language, and I tried to learn it. I got the basic vocabulary down in a few weeks—they kept me in the hospital even after I had healed, studying me—but the concepts of their tongue were completely beyond me, filled with Starsymbolism that I couldn’t begin to grasp. After much discussion among themselves they decided to try another language, one more suited to Zeymourian thought-patterns and my native phonetics. This one was called Braxin and I found it much easier, although objectively it was far more complicated.
The planet we had struck was called Lugast, and its inhabitants were good to me. They were an ancient people who had long been among the stars, for they were at the edge of a cluster so crowded that even their earliest spaceships were able to explore the stellar neighborhood and come home in less than a generation. Lugast was the capital planet of a multistellar Union of Planets. I learned a small bit of their culture and liked what I learned. They meant to unite the human-dominant galaxy, and from there reach out to more alien forms and establish cultural interchange.
Now—I will try to explain this, but I don’t really under stand all of it, Beyl-my-brother, so you must bear with me if I’m unclear on some point. They told me that life is the rule rather than the exception, and that most solar systems with suitable planetary environments give birth to some kind of life-form. They explained a theory called parallel evolution, which says that similar environments tend to give rise to similar patterns of evolution, and ultimately similar life-forms. Does that explain our own likeness? I asked, still skeptical of the perfection of the imitation. No, they said, humans are different. They—and five other life-forms—have been found in numerous systems where they clearly did not evolve, and even more mysteriously have been found dead on planets where man had failed to survive, a small buried indication that someone meant to test the possibility of their adapting to that place. The first explorers discovering this gave credit to the gods (the Lugastines recognize more than one) but current thought tends to accept that some ancient starfaring nation was experimenting with the adaptability and endurance of certain species. There is even a school of thought, I am told, to the effect that the great Experimenters were themselves human, and that they scattered their own aboriginal remnants among the stars to see how much of human nature was biologically determined, and how much would change in response to alien environmental stimuli. They call this the Seeding, and the resulting human types the Scattered Races, and support their theories with scientific deduction. (On many of these planets, for instance, there is no evolutionary branch that could possibly have given birth to the human form; even where there is a similar type evolving, the true human form often appears so suddenly that part of the story is missing, a link between similar but distinct forms that is never discovered; certain myths are common to mankind from the most primitive tribes—those whose environments kept them limited to a slow rate of progress and the most advanced interstellar nations: those of the Great Flood, for instance, and legends of shapechangers who take human form to drain true humans of strength.) The list of wondrous things goes on and on, Beyl-my-brother, but if I attempt to write it all I will never reach the end, and I don’t know how much time I have left. So forgive me, please, if I hurry on from here—there is so much more to tell!
They were a peaceful people, the Lugastines, utterly devoted to the reunification of humankind and successful interaction with the non-humans who also filled the galaxy with life. They had few enemies, and only one of consequence. That was the planet Braxi, the source of the language they chose for me, a recent interstellar upstart who had entered the galactic community suddenly and with vehemently martial intent. Although Braxi was almost as primitive as Zeymour in terms of interstellar competence, it was far enough away from Lugastine space that it had managed to repulse Lugast’s advances, military and diplomatic, and was carving out a block of unclaimed space for its own military domination.
When I was well, and when my surroundings were a little more familiar and I had learned to communicate, they showed me starmaps. It took me a long time to find our sun in those three-dimensional displays, for I had to search through section after section of two-dimensional renderings at all angles until constellations which were familiar began to appear. At last I found Zeymour—and oh, the pain of it, for when I realized the truth I dared not reveal it to my hosts! We were pitifully close to Lugast, and had that people not been guided by the clustering of stars in another direction we would long ago have been discovered and absorbed by them.
Wonderful, you say? Welcome them? We are slaves, my brother, and must remember that rulers side with rulers, and that the coming of the Lugastines to Zeymour, for all their good intentions, would have given such strength to the Mristi that we could never have dreamed of breaking free of them. And so I said nothing. I scanned the renderings day after day and said no, I saw no stars that were familiar, the heavens were an unknown code. At last they resigned themselves to that, and let me be.
I was content, now seeing before me some hope of living at peace in this fascinating civilization. But before my dreams could hint at becoming reality my circumstances were torn from me and Lugast was lost forever. It happened swiftly; I was walking on the hospital grounds at the time and nothing would have caused me to suspect that here, of all places, there could be danger. There was a moment, then, when I was grabbed, and I was dragged backward under cover of bushes, and a strongly-scented cloth was pressed against my face. I did not have time to struggle, so stunned was I by the action. The face above mine was terrifying, skin without color, features sharp and merciless, eyes and hair as black as shadow. That was my last observation, and then I fell into darkness.
I awoke bound, in the small confines of some vessel which I quickly identified as a starship. Screens all about me displayed the alien heavens. There were three men sitting not far from me: my captor, cleanshaven and hard of countenance, and two men of softer coloring, one bearded, who seemed to be operating the ship. One of them saw me as I moved and nudged his black-haired companion.
“The prize awakens, Sokuz.”
“And the Lugastine patrol?” he demanded.
“We’ve lost it,” the other assured him.
My kidnapper came over to where I lay and with certain hands released me from my bonds. “Stay calm, and all will be well. Do you speak Braxin?”
I nodded, still struck dumb from astonishment and fear.
“So they said. Don’t bother struggling, we’re out of Lugastine space and it will get you nowhere. Just relax and enjoy the ride, and everything will be fine.”
Again I nodded. I was trembling. These were Braxins—a people entirely without morals, loving warfare for its own sake, opposed to the very existence of the human society I had come to respect and—yes—love. But my terror could not keep me from eating when he offered me a bowl of food, for I was starving, and afterward, tired and weak, I drifted off to a more natural sleep.
They answered no questions, but otherwise they were passably kind to me. We talked much; the endless silence of space was as boring for them as it was becoming for me. They were very sexually oriented, which I knew from studying their language, and they asked me many questions regarding the customs of my home planet, which I answered as well as I could. Unlike the Lugastines they either assumed that I could not spot my planet for them or didn’t care to have me try. I was given no starmaps.
Their leader had ordered my kidnapping. He had heard news of me and had decided that he would see me with his own eyes, and simply ordered me taken, right out from under Lugastine surveillance. His planet consisted of twenty-three nations divided roughly by tribal background, and a wide expanse of frosty steppes as yet unclaimed by civilization. The two astrogators, the gentler men of the group, were from tribes known as the Hirinari and the Dambarre, and their nations had sworn loyalty to a man called Harkur the Great, who had come to unify the greatly diverse planet under one throne. Sokuz, the black-haired man with the eyes of death, was a Braxaná. A few of his tribe served the charismatic leader, but for the most part they were nomads on the Blood Steppes, a land mass they had successfully held secure against the encroachment of civilization for all of recent history. They were brutal, aggressive, and ruthless, and for this reason Harkur valued their service for errands such as this. Only a Braxaná, Sokuz assured me, could have stolen me out from right under the noses of my guards across half a hostile Union. I listened, and I watched, and I saw no cause to doubt him.
But of their ruler they would tell me nothing. I would meet him myself, then I would know. Sokuz even laughed when I asked, which did little to allay my fears.
And I feared. No less so when I awoke to hear a bit of conversation they had imagined secure from my notice.
“. . . ripe for his amusement, don’t you think?”
“I think the Kaim’era will be more than pleased with her.”
Ripe for his amusement . . . was that my fate, then? To be rescued from one enslavement only to be granted another? I trembled, but I said nothing. They would tell me nothing, and I would rather keep my fears to myself. Time would show me the truth.
How can I describe to you, Beyl-my-Brother, the wonder of that palace set among the stars? We did not go to Braxi directly but to Berros, a small planet rescued from a barren fate by Harkur’s determination to settle there. A ruler of the stars, he felt, should have for his home an entire globe, and though they planned to adapt their own moon for his usage that was a project that would take years. Until then, the tiny Berros would have to do.
The palace and the planet were one and I have no words which are sufficient to describe either. From all over the galaxy, from every corner of Braxi-controlled space, riches had been brought for the glory of Harkur, the warrior and statesman who had united a war-divided people and given them the stars. But these were not the garish riches of the Mristi, which hurt the eye and pleased only the sense of greed in a man; these were tasteful treasures whose colors delighted the eye and whose softness cushioned the step, and pleased the touch. Incense burned heavy and aromatic in room after room of the Kaim’era’s domain and thick carpets of wool and skins of exotic animals quieted the step to silence. The wealth of the galaxy was in art and Harkur had gathered it together, making the planet a cathedral to the glory of human accomplishment.
I was presented, at last, to the man whose name struck such chord of fear in me. At the far end of a ceremonial chamber he waited, arrayed not like a statesman but like a warrior, before and not seated upon his throne, and by his side stood a Braxaná. Harkur was broad and barbaric in costume and countenance, his light skin tanned and coarsened from exposure to the elements. The only regal element about him was a narrow band of gold, not even a finger’s width, lying across his forehead and confining his hair. And the hair! Its color was not even Braxin, but a deep blood red or wine color, and it shone as though it were metallic in the chamber’s primitive lighting.
The man by his side was taller than he by a handswidth, and his white skin looked almost sickly beside the healthy exposure of his master. He was a man of dramatic features, though I would not say he was attractive. But the contrast of his face was arresting, and his frame and stance spoke of power, both in attitude and in body. I wondered fleetingly what price such a man would have brought among the Mristi, for he would have pleased them. He was dressed in raw black silks, rich but not ostentatious, drawing attention to the medallion of rank which shone golden from where it lay on his chest.
As instructed, I approached the pair and knelt. Harkur walked over to me, regality obvious in every step, his aide following. The Kaim’era’s presence inspired such confidence that for a moment I forgot my supposed fate. The other man I feared, a gut reaction so intense it was hard to speak when I had to.
Harkur reached a callused hand under my chin and gently drew my face upward. Never before had I known a man’s touch in anything but cruelty; it was sweet, now.
“You are Dyle, the Zeymourian?”
I lowered my eyes. His voice was harsh, but strong and pleasing. I had never heard its like before. “I am, great Kaim’era.”
He nodded, his eyes meeting Sokuz’s. “I am very pleased. Were there losses?”
“Only theirs, Great One. A few.”
The ruler of Braxi smiled, then regarded me again. “You’ve had a long confinement in the Void—I imagine you could do with some rest under proper gravity, and perhaps a bit of real food. My servants will show you to rooms, and supply you with all you need. I would be pleased to have your company at dinner this evening.”
I was confused. What choice did I have? “As you wish,” I managed. Why play this game of freedom when we both knew the truth?
He gestured toward the Braxaná beside him. “This is Viton, my personal aide and advisor. He’s offered to make himself available to you while you settle in. Should you require something more, or should that which we supply be unsuitable for your race, you may speak to him.”
I knew I would never have the courage for that, but I nodded.
Viton stepped forward and offered me his arm, to guide me. I tried not to tremble as I touched him—wouldn’t that be amusing, the primitive alien terrified!
Sokuz stepped forward as Viton led me away, and I heard Harkur speaking words of praise. “. . . and I am pleased beyond expression. Now come, and tell me all you know . . .”
Viton led me to an exit behind the throne. We passed through many walkways, all richly and tastefully adorned, until we reached apartments consisting of some five rooms. There women waited to receive me, and Viton turned me over to them without a word. He bowed as he left, but there was a smile on his face that I found disturbing and I looked away quickly.
One of the women, alien in feature and with hair the color of the sun (our sun) brought me to the bedchamber, where all manner of gowns were laid out, ranging from diaphanous sheaths with light embroidery to rich, fur-lined robes-of-state. I chose one, and the rest were taken away. I bathed—marvelous, welcome luxury!—and slept in a heaven of softness. When the time came for me to awaken they saw to it, and they insisted on dressing me. The dress was soft and its lining done in velvets, so that where it touched me there was only pleasure in the contact; it was also modest to my eyes, although not as much as something I might have designed myself. They pulled my hair back tightly and bound it there, then made curls to hang down about my neck and shoulders, and added to them small tinkling ornaments that brushed unexpectedly against my skin when I moved. All was so tactile, and thus so alien! Our people touch so rarely, and theirs so naturally, that I knew more human contact in that dressing than I had before in all my life.
Viton arrived, he said to give me a tour of the palace, which was now available to me. How could I refuse, even though he terrified me? There was something about him which was animal, not human, even predatory, an urge to violence which seemed barely under control, a hunger for indulgence that was in his black eyes whenever I looked in them, so clearly that I trembled. And I realized that he, not Harkur, was the embodiment of the evil and violence that had been presented to me as the Braxin nature.
We passed libraries, terraces, chambers filled with art and music, halls rich in scent and lit primitively with torchlight—for Harkur had a taste for barbaric symbolism and found such things appropriate. Then he showed me the gardens, and oh! what beauty!
A fountain was central to this private place, its spray perfumed and its mist felt even by its enclosing walls. Plants grew about and between marbled pathways, and golden urns held ice and wine ready for the unexpected visitor. Benches covered with embroidered velvet cushions were half-hidden by the leaves and flowers, the pillows piled high and occasionally covered by bits of luxurious fur. All about were things of pleasure, touch, and intoxication . . . I am beyond describing them, Beyl-my-brother. But it was incomparably beautiful, and I gazed at it long before allowing him to lead me away.
I dined with Harkur, Viton and other respected advisors, and also their chosen women. We reclined on cushions and sipped drugged wine, and women danced for us, and the incense filled the air with a heady sweetness that was almost too much to bear. And that was all. I feared him, I feared what he would do to me, and I came to be ashamed. For he did nothing. After hours of pleasure had passed he sent me back to my rooms, saying that he sensed that to be my true desire. And for the first time I truly understood that I had the freedom to turn him down—and that frightened me, somehow, more than anything.
I spent the days alternating between my rooms and the wonderfully voluptuous gardens which had been made available to me. I even thought fleetingly that if Harkur meant to keep me like this I should like to serve his will in return. I think now that that is as close as I dared come to desire for the charismatic ruler.
For desire, though utterly repressed, was born in that place. I hope you will understand enough to not think me utterly evil for it! After all, I was damned already beyond redemption just by having been raped. The softness, the spray of the fountain, everywhere the tactile richness of my surroundings did to me what no words could. My body territory was violated by the women who attended me, again and again, until its border became less sensitive; everywhere there was softness and pleasure, things to touch and feel, velvet for my hands and satin against my cheek. Is it a wonder I changed, in such a place?
I spent an easy month in the palace (seventeen days reckoned by the Braxin calendar, as Berros was without a moon). In the beginning I was fearful, but even fear could not lessen the wonder of my new circumstances. I learned to lose myself in the pleasure of my surroundings, for therein lay forgetfulness. There were warm baths in marble halls, attended by females of many Scattered Races, which I enjoyed, although I was a bit distant when they gathered in small groups to discuss, laughing, the tastes of the Master of the House. There were pools for swimming and I used them often. There was wine and music and rich sensation all about me, and by the time Harkur desired my company again I was very different from what I had been when I arrived.
