Chapter 3
**
The trip to the Training Center sounds really boss, I think, as I pack some books into a satchel. The house servants have already packed our bags, and I slide down the bannister of the staircase, relishing the speed and the sheer badness of it. I’m not supposed to do that, and risk a warm behind if anyone catches me, but I don’t care. Going on a bonzer inspection trip is a hell of a lot more fun than sitting around, doing homework.
"Come on, Patrick, where are—oh, there you are. I thought you were outside already. The aircar’s here, let’s go!" Mama greets me at the front doors, hands on hips, foot tapping. She tosses her dark blonde hair back, out of her face, and grins at me. "Come on, it’ll be fun!"
"Yeah! Say, speaking of…how about I just leave these books here…I can catch up on the calculus and stuff when we get—"
"No. No way, Jose. That won’t work on me. You might have pulled the wool over Alice’s eyes that once, on the New York trip, but not me…carry those books aboard, young man," Mama orders, and I grin. Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I stick my tongue out at her as I pass her, and she wallops me playfully on the fanny. We’re still laughing by the time we get to the aircar, where everyone’s waiting. Alexandra is sitting in the copilot’s seat; Muhmis is flying us there. I put my satchel in a holder the ‘car extrudes for me, at the command from my transducer. Mama pats the seat next to her, and I jump in.
"Buckle up, youngsters," Muhmis says, and we do so, as the vehicle leaves the ground. "Visual, optical, maximum. Set course, Training Camp Norris." The car swivels west, and we’re off.
The walls have disappeared, making it seem like we’re floating magically above the palms, then the ocean. It shades from light green to dark blue in a matter of seconds, as the aircar responds to Alexandra’s commands, speeding up and angling toward the sky. "Hey, Ma, this flies great! Better than that old heap we had…the one before this one," my owner chortles with joy.
"Um, perhaps not so fast, my sweet. We have all day. It should take us approximately two hours to get to the base, Erin. Bring your books, Patrick? I hear you’re having some difficulty with third level calculus. Let’s sit back here and take a look, shall we?" Muhmis gestures toward the back of the aircar, and I reluctantly drag the bag of books—archaic, really, with our transducers and all, but Muhmis says tradition has its place—back to where she’s sitting, waiting with a smile on her tanned, aristocratic face. Back to the grind, I think, and then think about how she rode me into exhaustion on the path. I blush crimson, and cough, trying to cover it. Her smile grows wider, and she gestures for me to sit next to her. Oh, man…
Alexandra invites Mama up to sit in the front, and enjoy the flight. She, of course, has finished third level calculus, ahead of me, as usual. She winks at me, and I realize that she’s probably talked with her Mom about us, and vice versa…oh, wonderful. I wink back, though, and then Muhmis tweaks my left quad hard enough for me to jump, and I suddenly get very interested in math.
**
I watch Patrick hurriedly pack his books in the satchel as we come in for a landing, and smile. As much a man as he’s become, there’s still the excited little boy in there, impatiently waiting for the fun to begin. He’s spent the last hour or so with Gwen, going over calculus problems. She’s a good teacher; patient but not a push-over. And I know—she tutored me on physics and some of the more advanced math I need to make heads or tails out of some of the stuff she has me work on, supervise… I grin, remembering the sessions, and how she reinforced my learning…the learning curve was definitely interesting.
We come in on a smooth gliding approach; Alexandra’s hands steady on the controls. I hear her request landing permission, and the rather tense acknowledgement…must be someone unused to the directness of a Draka landing pattern, I think, and smile over at her. She flashes a triumphant grin back, teeth even and white in her tanned, aquiline face. So much like her mother’s, I realize, but then that’s only natural, since she is a clone…but her personality is definitely her own. And she loves flying, with a passion. The aircar settles to the ground, and a hatch dials open, letting in the scent of pine needles and fresh grass. It’s a nice change from the carefully filtered air of the ‘car, and I take a deep breath. This inspection trip is more dress than anything, really; but it’s good to drop in and check on the troops every once in a while. Keeps their leaders on their toes—and helps avoid shit like what the Orlando Naval Training Center was doing, when Peter and I were there… I remember, and grimace slightly.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and open my eyes. Gwen’s there, looking down at me with that odd, closed curve of a smile she wears sometimes. I smile back, and shake myself a bit. Time to get back in the here and now, old girl, I chide myself silently, and pat her long-fingered, steel-strong hand. "Ready, Muhmis?"
"If you are, sweetlin’," she says, squeezing gently. I look out the clear forward part of the aircar, and see the lines of the honor guard forming up, and the waiting forms of the commanding officer and his staff. Time to go…
"Let’s do it, then, Muhmis…" I stand, straightening my black tunic, with its gold and blue piping along the sleeves, collar and cuffs. The wrinkles fall from my black pants, and I quickly buff the shine on my shoes on the back of each pantleg before following Gwen to the exit. Alexandra and Pat are already outside, looking around with interest. The troops stand stiffly in ranks, eyes straight ahead, jaws set. The commanding officer, Captain Bush, walks over quickly, and kneels in front of Gwen.
Gwen waves the woman to her feet; the black uniformed Bush springs up and snaps a salute off. I swear, it’s so crisp I can hear it, I think, and return it the same way. The commander’s staff rise from their knees, and form into one rank, facing the honor guard. They’re smooth—must have done some practicing. I wonder who got to play the arriving Draka, one part of my mind, irreverent as always, wonders. I follow Gwen, to her right and behind her by a step.
Commander Bush, her dark black hair carefully done up in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, introduces her staff one by one, and as she does so, each man or woman salutes stiffly. Gwen returns the salutes with a subdued wave of a hand, and then we’re done. I feel the eyes of the staff looking me over, wondering, probably, how detailed the inspection will be. The kids, Alexandra and Patrick, have followed us, several steps behind, and I can see the excitement sparkling in their eyes. They love this stuff, like I used to, I think, and smile slightly. Life’s still so new to them, so bright, so clean—black and white, good guys and bad guys clearly marked and easy to recognize…
**
Mama looks so serious, kinda sad, I think, as I pull my eyes away from the bossment Honor Guard. They look so cool in their black uniforms and silvered visors, and I itch to be one of them. I watch Alexandra trying to act all grown up, like she’s an Archon or something, and how she imitates her mother’s movements. Right down to the hand gestures, I grin. But that’s not the only thing they do the same, I remember, and try really hard not to blush. Alexa’s something else in bed, and out of it, soothly. And Vicki’s not so bad herself, either. I force myself to pay attention to the present, though, and walk a little more quickly to catch up with the other three.
There’s a ghouloon squad nearby, and Alexa wanders over to look them over. Not too many on Earth/2, but the ones that are here make the hair stand up on the back of my neck, that’s for damn sure. Their human squad leader barks an order, and the beasts, that’s what they are, may as well call ‘em as I see ‘em, slap a huge paw across their chests and howl. Their short, yapping bark sounds shivery; I’d hate to hear that, knowing they were coming after me. They’re well-armed, too, with pulseguns strapped to their backs and pouches for chargers and what not strapped across their ape-like chests. Tufts of fur sprout in between the straps, and their whiskers twitch as Alexandra approaches. Eyes, large and black, look straight ahead, though, like the troopers on the Honor Guard. I hang back, not wanting to get very close to the hairy critters.
I don’t mind most of the transgenes; the cats are cool, and what’s really, really boss is the kawtuh I met the other month; it, I guess it’s she, belongs to uhmis Tamarindus, and she’s really swank. Scary, too, when she snarls at you, but cool—like a raccoon, a cat, and a monkey, and a human, all on steroids or something. Pretty, too, with leopard-like fur, and a long tail. They couldn’t stay long when they visited, but uhmis Tamar said they’d be back soon, and that I’d get to know her kawtuh much better. Wonder what… oh, man, no way… well, maybe; she sure had a nice, if furry, set up top. Hmm… kinda weird to think about, but it’s sorta exciting…
"Hell, everything’s exciting, my pretty buck," whispers Alexa, tickling me with her breath. I jump, not having noticed her come up, and I hear what sound like snickers from the ghouloons, who are watching us raptly. I start to blush, but fight it down savagely. Damn this fair skin of mine, anyway; at least the tan covers me sometimes. Her hand slips down my side, and I fidget, looking around for Muhmis and Mama. I take Alexa’s roving hand in mine and we walk over to where they’re standing, talking to the Captain. Wow, she’s a dish, too—even in that black uniform.
I bet you’d like her out of that black uniform, wouldn’t you?
Aw, Alexa…quit evesdropping so much. Soothly…
Hmmm…my pretty buck’s little sword too tired from all that fighting we did last night?
I’ll show you how tired I am, NOT…
Children…pay attention, now. Play later. Muhmis’ voice, sent through our transducers, is dryly humorous, but serious. Alexa and I school our features and look more attentive. Alexa does squeeze the hell out of my hand, though, before letting it go. I feel a trickle of sweat run down my face, and wipe it off quickly. Jeezie petes, she makes me so damn hot…
The Captain goes on, not noticing the exchange; but then again, we were on private links. I pick up on what she’s saying in midsentence:
"…the training; we’ve revamped a lot of the individual holodeck sessions, as well. Your suggestion on developing that, Sera d’Ingolfsson, has changed things so much here, from the time I went through the sessions. It’s amazing, really. And it cuts down on training injuries, too, quite dramatically. If they can physically practice before being in a zero-g, vacuumed environment, they develop the reflexes more naturally, more smoothly…"
"Yes, that’s what we thought would happen. I know the initial cost to develop the system was a bit steep, but it will pay for itself quite readily, I think. I’m glad the Archonal Council here went for the idea. Could we see some of the training in progress? That’s one thing I was hoping for, on this trip," Mama says, smiling widely at the other woman and at Muhmis.
"Yes, that would be interesting. We’ve already made plans to integrate this type of holodeck training into the school system, for various programs. It would be fascinating, I’m sure, to see it in action with your people. I’m sure these two would enjoy a session or two, if there’s room in the training schedule," Muhmis agrees, nodding at us. Oh, totally flat! I’d groove for days if I got to go into one of the new holodecks, no fake. Alexa nods, eyes bright.
"Why, certainly, uhmis the Archon. I would be most honored to show uhmis Ingolfsson and her friend our setup here. There’s a class going on right now; if you’d be so kind as to follow me, please?" The dark-haired Captain Bush gestures politely, and we troop after her, my heart racing. These new holodecks are the real thing; Mama said she and Tom got the idea from some old snory television show, for god’s sake, something called "Star Trek". Cool title, though, and some of the books Mama lent me about the show were pretty nifty. Liked Ryker, I did, and that doctor chick. And Worf…
We’re shown into a long, tall building, featureless to the outside world. Inside, it’s like an aircar parking hanger, but bigger. There are several stories, each reachable by stairs, lifters or a big freight lifter down at the far end. I watch some black-clad figures putting something in a crate on the freight lifter and glide upwards. The sun coming in through the walls is warm, and I see shafts of it lighting the interior all the way across the building. The walls outside looked like concrete, but here inside, it’s like we’re in a big glass box. People in uniform, and some in white lab coats, scurry around, talking happily. They do stiffen a bit when they see who’s visiting, and their voices lower. There’s an aura of respect around Muhmis; it’s nothing she does in particular, more in the way she just is. I watch her as she nods and says a few words to one of the guards at the door. The young man, pale at first, reddens a bit, and smiles as she walks on. He stands a little straighter, too, if that’s possible.
I smell coffee as we get on one of the personnel lifters; we pass several floors and finally stop on the fifth. There’s an aide waiting with a clipboard, and the Captain signs something quickly before leading us down the corridor. Classrooms on either side, some full of gray-clad trainees and black uniformed instructors; then we’re in the holodeck area. Oh, man, I can’t wait…
**
Perhaps an Alexandra pov?
**
The day has gone by so fast, I think, watching the sun set over the sharp-edged mountains. Dinner at the enlisted mess was quite good; Gwen ate in our rooms, busy with a call from Alexis. I had fun with Alexandra and Patrick, though, and the stories some of the older enlisted personnel got telling… From such a variety of backgrounds, all the world’s military, basically, and most of the major research facilities, there’s a fascinating mixture of people here. Redneck and white collar—they’re all working together to craft a Space Force that will stand the test of time. And they have a right to be proud, I muse, as the strains of "Taps" calls out over the base.
I turn from the window and walk across the room to where Gwen sits, eyes closed, on the couch. They’ve put us up in the guest quarters, and guests don’t do too badly by the Space Force. The carpet feels wonderful under my bare feet, and the hearth is lit by wavering flames. The smell of wood smoke is light in the room, and the couch is firm but comfortable. I curl up on the floor by Gwen’s feet, conscious of her moods well enough by now, and always aware of protocol with her. Leaning against the couch, and letting my head rest against her thigh, I watch the flames dancing in the fireplace. It’s been a long day, and maybe she won’t be too frisky tonight, I hope silently to myself. But c’est la vie…
"What are the children up to, Erin?" Her voice is soft, and I’d swear she actually sounds tired. I look up in surprise, and see her smiling down affectionately at me.
"They’re getting ready for a night training exercise, Muhmis…courtesy of Captain Bush. Alexa’s looking forward with great anticipation to piloting some of the newer terraformer craft, and Patrick’s just thrilled at the whole thing. We had fun at dinner; I missed you," I smile back up at Gwen. She runs her hand through my hair.
"I would have greatly enjoyed eating dinner with the three of you as opposed to spending time wrangling with Alexis. Believe me. But duty called, and I had to answer…" She lets her head fall back onto the back of the couch, and sighs. "There are certain parts of politics I enjoy, but tonight’s session is one of the things I never missed at all after I gave up the Archonate."
"You look tired, Gwen."
A white grin in her café-au-lait tanned face replies. "I am, truth be told, sweetlin’. I am tired. Rare for me, anyway. I think you’re a bit tired, too, aren’t you? Come up here and sit with me for awhile, Erin. Come on," she pats the couch next to her, and I climb up, curling under her arm, nestling my head against her shoulder. She strokes my hair, something she knows I love, and purrs softly. The evening seems so calm, so peaceful, even though I know something must be happening with the Archonal Council for Gwen to be tired after a negotiation session with Alexis Renston.
After long moments, she cups my chin and lifts my face to hers; our lips meet, then our tongues. The fire she always starts in me begins to grow louder, stronger, and I shiver in her steel-strong grip. Her hands explore me, gently, slowly… this time won’t be "emphatic" like some of our other sessions, I realize with relief. I’m not sure I could keep up at all if it was one of those times. My hands lace themselves behind Gwen’s head, pulling her down to me, and she begins to nibble down the line of my neck. Soon our clothes are in a pile on the floor, discarded in haste, and she’s leaning me back against the couch, straddling me, kissing me deeply.
My hands clamp on the back of the couch, feeling the fabric smooth and cool under my grip. My hands tense as my body arches to meet my Muhmis’ demands, as gentle as they are; she’s still insistent, challenging me, taking me, and my breath is coming in short, ragged gasps. The rest of the world is forgotten; all that matters right now is Gwen’s lips and hands and body on mine. The universe seems to shrink in on us, leaving the room and its contents behind in a haze.
Just as I begin to moan, knowing that I’m about to orgasm, I hear something through the throbbing of my blood and Gwen’s growls of pleasure. My head jerks up from where I’ve been nuzzling in Gwen’s undone, mahogany red hair at the same time Gwen’s head flashes up. Her eyes are bright; pupils wide. She’s as close to achieving orgasm as I am, I think dazedly, just from the way her eyes look, alone. Not to mention the way her body’s moving on mine… She snorts, and I hear the sound again, behind us, towards the door. It snicks shut, and my attention is pulled away from the waves crashing through my body.
I whine softly in frustration, and hear Gwen’s answering irritated snarl. She kisses me, almost savagely, and strides to the door. Her legs flash in the firelight, and the glint in her eyes says danger for anyone near the doorway. The door obediently dials open, and her arm snakes out, moving so fast it’s a blur. There’s a curse, then a squeak, and Patrick’s hauled through the doorway. She’s holding him up off the floor by a couple of feet, one hand clamped on the back of his neck.
"What in the name of Race Spirit are you doing, my bucko?" Gwen’s voice is frustrated and a bit angry. I stand up, looking at the two of them; I see his pale face flush red. I look down and realize belatedly that I’m naked, and so is Gwen. She doesn’t care, but I do, I think, and clasp some of our clothes in front of me.
"Answer me!" Her voice holds the whiplash of command in it. The hairs stand up on my tummy and arms, as goosebumps take over from ecstacy. The sound of the fire behind the iron grate is loud in the room; I can hear our breathing.
"I… I… I was looking for Mama, um… I’m sorry… I didn’t know anyone was… here," Patrick stutters, swinging in her grip.
"Haven’t you ever heard of knocking? Or checking on your mother’s whereabouts and availability via your transducer?"
"Um… no. I didn’t… ow! Please, Muhmis… that hurts… I didn’t think of that, I was in a hurry!"
I feel anger begin to wash through me, but tightly hold a lid on it. If I’m this angry, Gwen could be worse. Patrick has probably just witnessed his mother making out with her owner, which has to be somewhat grunky, I think. I slip my pants on, and then the tunic, not bothering with underwear. "Muhmis?"
"What?" Gwen turns her head slightly toward me.
"Muhmis?" My voice shakes, and that causes my Muhmis to pause, and turn all the way toward me. An eyebrow cooly hints for me to continue, but at my own risk. Fine, I think, better me than him. "Please, don’t be mad… it was a mistake, a dumb one, but with all the excitement today and everything… please, Muhmis?"
Much to both Gwen’s and my surprise, Patrick speaks up. "Don’t take it for me, Ma. If she’s going to hit me, then let her. I was just looking for you to tell you we were leaving… that’s all. I didn’t mean to be a peeping tom. Not that I wanted to see what I saw, anyway." His voice is angry, strident, and I see his arms bunch where they’re gripping Gwen’s forearm.
"You’re skating on very, very thin ice as it is, Patrick. Don’t add impertinence to the list. You wouldn’t like the punishment. Speaking of… how does grounding for six months at Gwendolyn Hall sound?" Gwen shakes him lightly, and in the stillness I can hear his teeth snap together as his head tosses.
"Muhmis Gwen… aw, come on, please… I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m sorry… heck… please?" His voice shakes just a bit, and my heart aches for him. Oh, please, Gwen, don’t hit my son, I think, watching her eyes narrow. I don’t know what I’d do, if you hit him…
"This was not only an intrusion, it interrupted something I was enjoying… I’m rather annoyed with you, pretty buck. Rather annoyed indeed. You’re not my own personal saafn, but there are standards to be met, regardless."
Gwen drops him to the floor, spins him round and then Whack! The sound, like a rifle shot, fills the room, and my eyes fill with tears. Patrick arches up, mouth open in a moue of shock, and his hands fly back toward his rear, where Gwen’s just slapped him. She grins, slightly, and whacks him again. His green eyes flash with anger, and I feel helpless, horrified. God, Patrick, don’t fight her! That’s insane! I spread my hands out to either side of me and advance on the two of them.
"Please—please, Gwen…no, please, don’t…" I shake my head, but inside it’s me that’s shaking. I’ve never confronted her about disciplining Patrick or May; it’s never been an issue before.
"Go over to the couch, sit down and shut up, Erin. Now. You don’t want to argue with me about this. I’m merely irritated now; don’t make it worse, wench. He should have known better. He will know better from now on." Whack!
Almost as if I’m watching myself from a place outside my body, I see my hands reach out and grasp Gwen’s arm as it cocks back for another slap aimed at Patrick’s ass. Her skin feels so hot beneath my fingers, and holding onto her arm is like trying to restrain a steel cable wrapped in velvet. She turns to me, eyes narrowing and snarls, a low, ripping, gutteral sound. It makes my stomach feel full of ice, but I try to hold on. Not Patrick, not my son, not all I have left of Peter…not him, anything but not him. I pull down with all my strength, but her arm doesn’t move an inch.
Instead, it whips backward, thumping heavily against my chest. The air leaves my lungs in an explosive hunh! I fall backwards, landing on my fanny, then cracking my head on the hardwood deck behind the couch. Stars and fireworks sprinkle in front of my eyes, and I feel woozy. I hear, from a long way away, Patrick’s enraged howl; then suddenly I’m airborne.
I look down in a daze into Gwen’s coolly angry face. Pupils are huge, swallowing up the leaf green iris of her eyes, and her lips are peeled back to her gumline, showing all of her strong white teeth in a wolf’s snarl of fury. She’s holding me up by my tunic, and it begins to rip through her grasp, parting under her hand like tissue paper. She shifts her grip to my throat, and I feel her long fingers clamp around my neck. I gasp for breath, and dangle limply from her arm, several feet off the floor.
This is it, I think, I’m going to die now. Oh, please all the gods in the universe, let it be fast, please. I’ve survived so much pain, let this be fast… The room begins to go grey around me as her fingers squeeze my neck, cutting off my air. I whimper softly, helplessly, but don’t try to fight her. My hands hang down at my sides, and I wait.
"Don’t. Ever. Try. That. Again. Wench." Her voice cuts through the fog like a lighthouse beacon; the force of it blasts against me like the backblast of an F18. I feel real terror rising up inside, fear like I haven’t felt for years and years surfacing instantly. I remember the last time she yelled at me full force like that, and how close I came to dying that night. This night, too, is on a razor’s edge. One false move, one thing she doesn’t like, and I’m history. Councilor or no, favorite or no…I’ve threatened her, and now the piper has to be paid.
I close my eyes, seeking to escape for a moment from the merciless stare of her predator’s visage. She shakes me from side to side, and whispers, "Open your eyes, serf."
I instantly obey, hearing the coldness in her tone. I stare into her face, shivering uncontrollably.
"Erin. You made a mistake. I’m tense as it is. Don’t make this worse, gods-dammit!" Gwen whispers, her lips inches from mine. My God, just a few minutes ago, we were so close… moving as one, feeling as one… and now this. Jeezie Petes, let me live through this…
"Yes, Muhmis. Forgive me, please… I didn’t think… it was automatic, please… forgive me," I say quietly, looking into her eyes. The green’s returning as her pupils shrink from anger to just annoyance. Even that could have quite uncomfortable consequences, I realize; an annoyed Draka isn’t any fun, but an angry Draka is very dangerous. An enraged one is quite usually a fatal thing for anything else to be around; but then again, Gwen has lived for over 450 years, so her control is rather better than most…
"Go to the bed and wait. You and I are going to have a little… session. Go on, now. Run, wench." She drops me to the floor, and I scramble to my feet, sprinting toward the bed, where I kneel and wait her commands. I see, from the corner of my eye, Patrick standing, rubbing his fanny, his eyes dark and watering. Gwen stalks over to him and stands, hands on hips, in front of my son.
"Patrick, this better never, ever happen again. When I am in my chambers, I want privacy. Not interruptions by lost little boys looking for their mamas. You have a transducer; use it. Or I’ll think of a way to make you remember you have one implanted. Need I say more, buck?"
"No, Muhmis." He’s trembling; at such close range, her anger pheromones are like being blasted by a sandstorm or something. I know, I’ve experienced it. Didn’t ever really want to experience it again, after the first time, I think, and shiver some more.
"Good. Now get out. We’ll talk more about this, believe me. I’m holding the grounding in abeyance… don’t push things." She shoves him toward the door, and he stumbles toward it. He stops for a moment, looking over at me.
I’m stunned by his expression. I read anger, frustration… some sort of despair. Something’s happened here tonight, and it’s important, I think. I keep my head down, though, not wanting to risk more of Gwen’s wrath.
"Mama, I’m sorry… but…"
Gwen puts her hands on her hips and bellows: "Get out!"
Patrick ducks and runs from the room, face crimson. A silence falls over us, and a log pops in the fireplace. I nearly pop out of my skin. I wait, kneeling, by the bed.
Walking over to the bar along one wall of the guest quarters, Gwen pours herself a brandy and then goes to sit on the couch. She stays there for over an hour, motionless. I shift slightly so I’m not putting all my weight on my kneecaps, and wait, patiently. I hope it’s not going to be too awful, I think hopelessly. I have meetings to attend tomorrow, and if I can’t sit down, it’ll be kinda embarassing.
Finishing the last of the snifter, Gwen puts it down by the bar and walks over to the bed and me. She climbs onto the bed, and sits cross-legged, looking down at me with an inscrutable stare. I feel chilled inside; have I really blown over a decade of being close to her all in one night? One mistake?
"Erin?"
I look up through my bangs. "Yes, Muhmis?"
"Been thinking?"
"Yes."
"Good," she says. "Get up here."
I do so, stiffly standing on sore legs, and then climbing carefully onto the bed, sitting down next to her. I keep my eyes down, feeling the tenseness between us like a physical thing, a barrier, a presense in the bed with us. "Your will, Muhmis."
"Indeed. My will. Erin, Erin… what am I to do with you?" Red hair glints in the firelight as she shakes her head from side to side. "I don’t want to punish you, not for acting like a protective mother would. But you have other responsibilities, other things to remember. Make another mistake like that, and it could be the last mistake you’ll ever make, wench. I mean that."
Oh, god, I wail inside. I couldn’t help it… he’s my son, for chrissakes… I nod, showing that I’ve heard and understood her.
"Hell. I was just starting to unwind, too… come here, Erin." She gestures, and I lay across her lap, face down. She strips the pants off me and then I’m bare, goosebumpy. Frightened. I feel her body move as her arm swings down, and there’s an instant of numbness following the slap of her hand. Then fire moves through me, centering on my fanny, and I sob quietly. Oh, god… it’s been so long since she’s had to do this, since I’ve had to take this…
Strong hands pick me up, and swing me to face Gwen. "Don’t make that mistake again, Erin. You’re mine; he’s not a baby or a child anymore. He’s his own man now, and a serf. He’ll have to take his own punishments, not you. Don’t ever challenge me like you just did, understand?"
I nod, sniffling, aware of the tears trickling down my face and throat. "Y-y-y-yes, Gwen."
She sighs, and pulls me to her. "You’re my favorite human, Erin, but I won’t make exceptions for you, or any other human. Any other serf. Period. I want to make perfectly sure you understand that, my girl." My head rests on her chest, her chin on my head. I nod slowly, realizing just how close I came to the beating of my life, or the ending of my life. A hair’s-breadth away, a instant’s fury… and I’d be as dead as the logs in the fire. Less useful, too, except as ghouloon treats. I shiver violently as my arms go around Gwen’s waist.
"Patrick should have used his transducer. It’s that simple. He was being nosey, curious… that’s a trait that I enjoy for the most part in humans, but when it comes to popping into chambers unannounced, that’s another thing altogether," Gwen sighs, stroking her hands down my back,caressing my now-sore ass. She gently pulls me away from her, so that we’re looking at each other, face to face.
"Do you understand, Erin? All the time I’ve had you, the only advantage you’ve tried to take in your position as my favorite has been to talk me out of punishments for others. You’ve never tried to talk me out of one for you, or to talk me into other things. I’ve known serfs to do that, or try to do that, with their owners. I have generations of experience behind me, and I know these things. You’ve been excellent that way. But don’t ever try to come between me and a serf the way you did tonight. Clear?"
"Yes, Gwen." I look soberly into her leaf-green eyes. A tear slides from one of mine, and she catches it with a precise fingertip.
"Now… what I want you to do right now… besides stopping crying, is this: go find Patrick and talk to him. Get him calmed down before this night exercise, or he could be distracted, a danger to himself and to others. Then… come back to me. I need some time to think right now, and calm down before I take you, my sweet…" she fondles me roughly, and I gasp. "I do want you able to attend your meetings and the demonstrations scheduled for tomorrow. Hurry up, now—run along. I’ll be waiting for you."
She releases me from her hold, with a rough kiss, and I stand, retrieving my pants. "Thanks, Gwen… I really am sorry. You know that; you know how important you are to me…"
"I know. And I know how important Pat is to you, as well. But it’s a lesson learned now; not one we need to repeat, ever. Go along, now—find him and calm him down. Then back to me, hear?"
"I hear, Muhmis, and obey," I say quietly, as I pull on an exercise tunic and sandals. The door shushes closed behind me and I pad down the hallway, checking through my transducer for my son’s whereabouts.
**