Territory Slaves

Chapter Eleven - Good News

Mijre’s small fleet reached the Council two days before the Sunderan vote. As they approached the planet, Sesul and the squadron of Baceti fighters that had escorted Mijre to the Council headquarters broke off to join the fighters of other Council members in orbit above the headquarters to guard against outside attackers and, well, each other.

The rest of the Baceti contingent passed through the security shield and landed on the fields of the Council headquarters. Kinnet joined Lehu and the rest of security in the huddle to get Mijre into the building, while Mijre’s single body servant followed demurely. Unlike other Council members, Mijre only brought one personal slave. Lehu and Kinnet could function as additional personal servants if necessary, but she didn’t require many servants at Council. Especially pleasure slaves which might distract her from the matters at hand. Since Sesul would be away for a couple of months, Mijre had a slave return Jahhan to his cell—without explanation.

Following the paths through a beautifully, but impersonally, landscaped park, they made their way to the outer ring of the square, one-story structure where security checks were performed. They had to pass a series of security checks before reaching the heart of the Council chambers located in the underground levels.

They passed through the dense materials scan easily, then they passed through the internal scan for liquids which could be used as a poison or combined to make an explosive or biological agent. People had been known to swallow such substances encased in small pouches. The internal scan also looked for electronics more dangerous than the implants like the ones Kinnet and Lehu used to fly ships.

Finally, they endured the physical searches. Kinnet always thought they left that for last so the victims would be too tired to protest. Even Council members had to suffer the intrusion of their personal space. Of course, Council members had the luxury of a well-appointed private room, slaves trained to search while being subservient and respectful, and members of their personal security to witness the search and protect them.

While Mijre held back with the Baceti security, Lehu and Kinnet went through the physical searches first so they could be witnesses to Mijre’s search. As she watched other security detachments being handled like old luggage, Kinnet appreciated having a reputation. Even though the searchers lacked the training the slaves attending to the Council members had, they treated Kinnet and Lehu like Reteri spun glass. Kinnet made a point of watching Mijre’s personal slave’s search. Personal or pleasure slaves usually received the worst treatment.

After they passed security, they retired to the suite reserved for Mijre to wait for the rest of the Council to arrive and be processed through security. Though Kinnet was fairly sure before leaving Railu Station with Mijre and her escort that the Council would vote in Mijre’s favor on the Sunderan matter, a flurry of politicking occurred the day before the actual vote took place. Also, Rylam and his Sunderans’ fate wasn’t the only issue on the table. Mijre had interest in other issues up for vote and she wasn’t assured she’d win the vote for all of them . . . yet.

They had settled in to wait for visitors when the panel by the door to the antechamber chimed and identified the visitor as Vedian Torland, ruler of Torland Territory. As Mijre’s newest ally, he’d want to reaffirm their mutual support. Torland’s financial situation had deteriorated. He needed the alliance more than ever, and more than Mijre needed him, so he probably expected a cool reception. But Mijre stood and greeted him with a smile and an outstretched hand, showing him the difference between an ally and a target. She guided him to a plush chair. Her servant offered him a selection of teas and pastries.

Kinnet sat in a pool of black silk on a cushioned stool by her mistresses’ feet. Once or twice, a brave soul had questioned her apparent submissiveness when she sat by her mistresses’ side, but her subdued demeanor was no act. When apart from her mistress, she spoke with Mijre’s power and authority. When her mistress spoke for herself amongst rivals or allies, not much was required of Kinnet, except that she remember what was said and provide additional security. She had permission to add her input, but rarely found it necessary. When it came to the Council’s political games, Kinnet was just the pupil.

Torland eventually left, his mind at ease. Mijre settled back to wait for the next visitor.

***
Delosa watched Mijre enter the Council chambers flanked by two of her top thugs. She usually only brought one of them and a contingent of regular security to Council meetings—well, as regular as was possible for Baceti security. Delosa soothed his nerves by telling himself he had made her nervous, at least.

Mijre was the last to arrive. As expected, the full contingent of Council members had attended this Council session. The Sunderan decision affected the interests of most of the Council members.

Delosa had kept tabs on which Council members visited Mijre’s suite. Four Councilmen had greeted him at Ardres’ suite the day before: Holsun, Lovico, Sicht, and Tahleena. Only a year ago, Torland could have been counted a sure vote for Pietsi, but he needed Mijre’s good will now. A few Council members didn’t visit either suite. He needed the votes of each of those members, plus those who assured him of their votes the night before, in order to gain Sundera.

The Council members took their seats at the massive mahogany table centered in the lowest level of the four-tiered Council chamber. Attendants fluttered about or knelt behind them. Each member was allowed two attendants on “the floor”. A bland, female personal slave knelt behind Mijre’s chair. Lehu ran messages and occasionally conferred with Kinnet, who stood on the second tier of the council chambers just behind the waist-high dark wood divider. Most Council members placed their security in that second tier and at the top of the bowl-shaped room, near the entrances. Only Council members and cleared security could leave the Council chamber while Council was in session.

Trapped and useless in the observers’ section between the entrance level and the second tier, Delosa waited for the Sunderan issue to be set before the Council. Observers had to be invited by a Council member and had to stay in place from the moment all Council members took their seats as long as the Council remained in session.

Delosa waited through hours of Council business before the Sunderan issue was raised. A few of the Council made half-hearted comments. On the surface, the decision was to be made on the strength of the legality of the opposing claims, or, failing that, by deciding which claimant would benefit the Territories as a whole. In reality, Council decisions were made based on alliances.

The Councilmen recorded their decisions on the screens before them. They then used slides carrying their personal seals to attach their seals to the documents and send them through highly secure channels to the Council Recorder’s screen.

The Recorder made a gesture indicating she had received all votes. They waited, silent, as she ran the votes through the program that tallied the votes using a complicated calculation, since the percentage of each vote depended on the size and population numbers of the voter’s Territory.

Finally, the Recorder stood. “Regarding the issue set before the Council on the matter of Sundera Continent and Sundera Station ownership, the Council finds on behalf of Baceti Territory. Current residents of Sundera Continent and Sundera Station are to relinquish sovereignty of property and persons to Councilman Mijre Baceti.”

Ardres, politely, didn’t look his way. No one from Mijre’s quarter looked to gauge his reaction either, but several other pairs of eyes sought him in the crowd. Delosa schooled his expression to be free of emotion. He wasn’t finished yet. This didn’t finish him. He still had his best chance unfolding before him.

***
Sesul began his flight to Elethera to collect Mijre’s newest prize before the official vote. She didn’t want Pietsi to have time to send orders to have Rylam harmed. Sesul thought Pietsi wasn’t quite cornered enough to lash out without reason. Mijre would probably agree, but she didn’t like to take chances.

He received the news of the vote while he still traveled using the sublight drive. The true vote, as opposed to the promises which came in the days before the vote, gave Sundera to Mijre by a strong margin. Sesul immediately switched drives and shot towards Elethera. No message could outrace him. Messages had to bounce from deep space station to deep space station or travel with ships. Messages sent via stations actually took longer than ships.

A few breaths had passed for Sesul, who spent most of the trip in stasis, while a few weeks passed in real time before he arrived at the point where his ship automatically switched to sublight engines. The final approach to any large mass had to be made in sublight.

He didn’t notice the strangeness on Sundera until he was flying low enough to land. He always performed several routine scans to evaluate the situation before he landed anywhere. He picked up the signature from Rylam’s nanotrackers easily enough. Rylam was at his estate, as expected. He received echoes from other nanotrackers. He didn’t have the exact signature codes, so he couldn’t pinpoint any single person, but he knew several slaves were at the estate with Rylam, which he also expected. What he didn’t find were heat signatures from other bodies in the village. He scanned the region, then scanned again.

Nothing. The town was empty.

He scanned the surrounding forests and found several heat signatures. Many of them were large enough to be human, but none of them were very distinct. He gained altitude. He considered contacting the Baceti fighters in orbit or the security detachment left at the estate to see if they knew anything about the situation, but Rylam had always played fair, so he contacted the estate directly.

“Sundera responding,” a weary voice answered. Sesul recognized the voice immediately as Rylam’s.

“Where are your people, your lordship?” Sesul asked, skipping all preliminaries.

“Hiding,” Rylam answered simply.

“Where?”

“In the caves, in the forests, in small groups. I gave them as much sensor deflecting gear as I could get my hands on. I figured they may as well be hard to find if Pietsi got hold of Sundera.” Rylam paused. “I assume you’re here because Mijre won the vote.”

“Yes.”

“Very well. You can land. I’m not going to cause you any trouble.”

Sesul had never heard anyone manage to sound so relieved and resigned at the same time. When he saw Rylam minutes later after he landed, he could tell the man hadn’t been sleeping well. Iler followed him in a manner which suggested he might become a permanent attachment. The head of the security detachment that Mijre placed on Rylam approached as well.

Sesul bowed to Rylam and Iler in greeting, then handed the Baceti security chief their latest orders from Mijre. They would remain until permanent Baceti military and security forces were stationed on Sundera.

Rylam watched the exchange with an expression which matched the relief/resignation Sesul heard earlier. After the Baceti security bowed and returned to the background, Rylam said, “I’ll send the word out to the Sunderans that they can return to their homes.” He smiled. A sincere smile, warm and pleased, even with the edge of fear in his eyes. Then the smile faded. “Are you here for me?”

Sesul nodded. “You have a few hours before we leave.”

Rylam was silent for a long moment, his expression shifting through emotions until he managed to school his features into his impassive prince mask. “Very well.”

Iler’s anxious expression was far more open. “I’d like to accompany Prince Rylam to Railu Station.”

“No,” Rylam and Sesul said at the same time. Sesul let Rylam elaborate on his objection.

“I need you to stay here and help Teli manage the estate.” He forestalled any arguments by returning his attention to Sesul. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to make some other arrangements before we leave.” Sesul nodded and they started for the estate. “Will Baceti have control of the station soon?”

“Baceti forces will have Pietsi cleared out of Sundera Station two weeks from now,” Sesul assured him.

“Good,” Rylam said, but he looked grim. “I’ll want to know how many Sunderans were taken off the station. If you could ask the commanders to look for records and take a head count of the remaining personnel, I’ll . . .” He stopped himself. “I’ll ask Iler to look into the matter. I suppose I won’t be here much longer. I am pleased the Sunderans planet-side won’t have to return to a life of hiding.”

“Pietsi would have found them anyway.”

“Eventually, but the Sunderans remember how to hide. I hoped without a steady stream of Sunderan slaves to sell, he’d lose his province, including Sundera, to Mijre before long.”

“The Council won’t be voting on the property reallocation for more than a year.”

“I know. The outcome of the Sunderan vote is good news,” he said, but his smile still held that hint of fear.

When they reached the estate, Sesul asked for the garden tour Kinnet had during their last visit. He didn’t share Kinnet’s love of gardens. Unlike her, he had been raised on a station. But, not knowing Mijre’s plan himself, he wanted to allow Rylam to say his goodbyes and make whatever arrangements he needed under the less intrusive eyes of the Baceti security detachment that had watched him since before the vote.

Sesul took Rylam from his office as the sun set over his little paradise and led him to his fighter.

***
Rylam had nothing to do but pace the suite for days, waiting to learn his fate. Sesul had given him no reason to have hope. Sesul’s demeanor had been cool when they arrived at Railu Station. He released Rylam from the stasis chamber and silently led him through the maze of corridors and levels characteristic of space stations until they reached the suite.

Before leaving Rylam alone in the suite, Sesul simply told him, “You’ll wait here for Mijre’s return from Council.”

The suite didn’t resemble a cell at least. It had a bedroom, a well-appointed bathroom, and a comfortable place to relax with a wall screen to watch broadcasts. Slaves brought him three meals a day and clean clothes, thankfully not black. Judging by the lighting cycle and meals, he’d been on Railu for seven days. He knew Mijre must have returned by now.

The door finally opened to admit a Baceti slave&mdashnot one Rylam had dealt with before. The slave gave him clothes appropriate for an audience with a Councilman and gave him enough time to prepare before leading him through the station corridors.

The slave left him in front of a plain, small door. One of the security personnel stationed at each side of the door touched a panel to open the door. The room beyond was a luxurious cave with a window onto the universe. Rylam hesitated as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Mijre lounged comfortably in a low chair in front of the large window. A dark figure stood behind her left shoulder.

He’d never seen Mijre in person before. She looked older than she did on the screen broadcasts, but less pallid under the low, soft light. Her gray eyes were ancient and cold and amused.

“You look nervous.”

“Should I not be?” Rylam’s eyes were finally able to make out the dark figure at Mijre’s back. He’d expected a fifth rank personal or pleasure slave, but he couldn’t mistake Kinnet’s green eyes, even in the dim light.

“I suppose I do have a reputation. Have a seat.” Mijre handed a screen to Kinnet. Kinnet brought him the screen silently.

“Your part to play in Baceti Territory’s future, if you agree,” Mijre said, gesturing to the screen. “If you refuse, I’m sure we can find you a purpose here on Railu Station.” She spoke the threat lightly. Her expression told him she knew he wouldn’t refuse.

Keeping the tremor out of his hands, he looked at the screen.

A marriage contract. Mijre, the most feared individual in the Territories, was proposing marriage. He thought she must be kidding. But the screen had the coding for a marriage contract, and the seal of Baceti. It only required the Sundera and Sundeht seals to be a binding marriage contract.

Rylam read further and was relieved, very relieved, to see she didn’t intend to marry him herself, but to marry him to her enforcer, Kinnet. The contract was for a lifetime partnership, but he would have no authority over Kinnet and Kinnet would have no authority over him. No requirements of fidelity for either of them, but only children born of their union would be considered legitimate heirs. Since his family inherited through blood, and Kinnet had no inheritance, legitimacy only impacted him.

Mijre had the right to claim him as a slave. She had done exactly that with many of her former rivals when she hadn’t had them simply executed. Instead she wanted him to marry her enforcer. He wondered why she chose him. Family connections, perhaps. If she enslaved him, his ties to the Sundeht family would be severed. If he remained a free man and officially recognized their children, their children would be free citizens and part of the Sundeht family as well.

But if she wanted the connections to his family, why would those connections be so desirable to her? Why would she use a slave as a way to bind herself to potential allies? Mijre certainly had a unusual view of slavery. The majority of her slaves reportedly enjoyed decent treatment, but she gave some slaves over to death in the arena and others over to her torturers. Rylam personally thought death in the arena to be the better fate. He shuddered. On the other hand, he’d seen Kinnet take people apart in the arena. His future wife. As unappealing as marrying a killer might be, he was in no position to refuse.

He pulled his thoughts together and searched the document for the most important contractual point: jurisdiction. His. All his. He could barely breathe. Sundera, the entire southern continent, and the station as Sundera Province under Baceti Territory. His province.

Everything he wanted on a silver platter, with one rather alarming addition. He looked at Mijre, bewildered. She returned his gaze cooly.

“Why do you want us to marry?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even and polite.

She ignored the question. “Will you accept?”

“Yes.”

She smiled. “Excellent. Within the next few months, I’ll expect you to finalize the contract with your seals. You may make arrangements for a ceremony here or on Elethera, if you wish, but I insist you remain here long enough to travel with us to the fights at Daiselan next month.”

Rylam nodded in acquiescence, though he winced internally. He skipped the Daiselan fights each year and he hadn’t intended to make this year an exception. As a Territory-wide event, though, the fights provided the perfect opportunity for meeting with allies and building new connections, so he understood her desire to have her newest province ruler present.

“I’d like to send a message to my estate.” He didn’t want to leave Iler and Teli wondering what had happened to him.

“Of course. I’ll send messages for you with the troops that will be stationed in Sundera. I’ll take care of the build-up and maintenance of the military forces on the continent and the station, at least for the next few years. You can continue to search for Sundera’s lost populace with whatever resources you have.”

“Thank you,” Rylam replied automatically while he tried to decide if having a full Baceti military base in his backyard was a good thing. It probably was. Sundera Station had been too vulnerable and she was giving him a chance to find Sunderans without compromising security.

Mijre glanced between Rylam and the still silent Kinnet. “You two probably should talk. I’ll leave you to it.” She left, security falling in step behind her as the door closed.

Kinnet took the seat Mijre vacated and dropped the silk that hid her face. They stared at each other.

“Did you know about this?” Rylam asked, finally.

Kinnet shook her head. “No. I thought she might want you to continue in a leadership role, but I had no idea what she planned until today.”

“You suspected she didn’t intend to hurt me.”

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And ruin Mijre’s fun? No, no. Besides, I did tell you, just not in a way Mijre could hold against me.”

“I don’t remember you saying anything.”

“I said she didn’t intend to seriously disrupt the Sunderan’s lives. Don’t you think losing you would be a serious disruption?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Well, that’s as straightforward as I dared.” She sighed. “I really wish she would tell me when she was about to pull things like this.”

“Are you alright with it?”

“What I think of my orders is irrelevant.” Kinnet shrugged. “I’ve been ordered to do worse.”

He found her calm acceptance unnerving. She may be used to obeying another person without question. He wasn’t. On the other hand, she had a point. He had expected worse, but he felt a sense of loss for a future he had imagined for himself. “I intended to marry for love.”

“I intended never to marry. I should have known Mijre wouldn’t allow me that choice.” A flicker of emotion crossed her face. It wasn’t much, but it made her seem a bit more human.

“What does she expect to gain from our marriage?”

“I don’t know. She has more than one reason for every move she makes. I have no idea what she’s up to.”

“I suppose we’ll find out.”

Kinnet laughed without humor. “That’s what worries me.”

***
Jahhan curled into a miserable ball in his cell. He’d forgotten how cold it was, how hungry he got on the “nutritional composite” without real food supplementing his diet, how painful cold showers were, and how lonely he was in the dark cell after his lessons.

He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. The slave who took him from Sesul’s suite back to his cell had only said, “Follow”. The torture he’d suffered a couple months ago had been his punishment for using the communication system, he believed. Surely it was enough.

He’d even had his first “trial” patrons—people moderately important, but not important enough that insulting them with poor performance would matter. Sesul had actually seemed satisfied with his performance. He hated what he had to do, but he felt more like a person with a task instead of a whipping post.

He actually wanted to return to Sesul’s suite, regardless of the endless rules, the humiliating punishments, the times when Sesul used him as a patron would. At least Sesul payed attention to him.

He was pathetic.

The shower alcove opened without warning. Jahhan had only been back from his lessons for hour, maybe two. Perhaps he would be returned to Sesul. He endured the freezing water with a feeling dangerously like hope.

When he emerged, Sesul and another slave waited for him in his cell. Jahhan gracefully went to his knees and touched his forehead to the floor.

“Prepare yourself for a patron,” Sesul instructed.

Jahhan obeyed, his stomach twisting from nerves and embarrassment. When he finished the intimate preparations, Sesul indicated he should turn around. Jahhan turned so his master could inspect him.

“You’ve lost weight.” Jahhan felt a twinge of anxiousness at the disapproval in Sesul’s voice, even though he had no control over what they fed him. Sesul closed the distance between them and held the back of Jahhan’s neck in a vise-like grip. “I’m sending you to your first important patron tonight.” He shook Jahhan once. “I don’t need to tell you what I’ll do to you if you fail to please him, do I?”

Jahhan shook his head.

“Good.” He released Jahhan and turned to the other slave. “Take him to Hival’s suite.”

He followed the slave obediently, dreading meeting Hival again. Jahhan remembered the name. He’d given Hival the paddle during his first punishments. He remembered the shame and anger he felt as Hival and the others who would use his body gazed upon him. He missed the cleansing burn of the anger he had somehow lost since then. He still felt shame. Sesul told him he had no right to his pride and, therefore, should feel no shame, but his pride had proven to be stubborn. Whatever they did to him, he was still a husband and father with a family any man would be proud of. Even though he knew he would never see them again.

The slave led him to a door on one of the more luxurious levels in the station. Another slave waited for them just inside the door. The other slave wore a tunic with a trim in two shades of bronze, indicating a different owner than Mijre.

Hival’s slave took him to a small room full of a variety of instruments of torture. Jahhan’s heart sank into his stomach. The few patrons he’d serviced had wanted nothing more than sex. He had guessed Hival wanted more, because of the paddle, but the extent of Hival’s collection suggested a particularly long and painful night.

--
DrkDreamer, gravitule, SeaLatch, Light Writer: Thanks so much for your comments. I’m glad you’re enjoying Territory Slaves.

DrkDreamer: Maybe I wasn’t very clear about Kinnet and Cai. I was trying to be ambiguous until the end of the scene. Cai loves all kinds of attention: sex, comfort, and even pain and humiliation to an extent. As long as he trusts the people involved. He’s smart enough not to be lured to Sesul’s suite otherwise. He’s full of protest during, but happy as a clam after. I’ll do my best to address the clarity problems in when editing.
I appreciate the compliment on my grammar. I used to be an editor. I’m very conscious of grammar. (Even though I keep finding mistakes. *sigh*)

gravitule: Thank you!

SeaLatch: Sorry, my lips are sealed about what’s going to happen. :)

Light Writer: Thank you for your review. Very thought-provoking.
I do think my characters need more background and I know their histories, but I haven’t quite managed to fit them in yet.
On descriptions, I prefer to give just a few descriptive details about appearance. I don’t like to have the POV describing him/herself or having someone who knows them well describing them as if they just met. If they are sizing up another person or being introduced to someone, then the description is more natural.