Chapter 13

“A trap, baited; A bold rescue, attempted.”

Artona was uncharacteristically nervous as Inta held her hand and led her to the Med Bay, followed by the rest of the Nestia Crew. Her friends and soon-to-be family followed them down the hallway in silent anticipation, fully aware of the solemnity of this occasion.

“Relax, Love,” Inta said, looking up into the face of the much taller Urarc woman. “You are surrounded by those who care for you and love you.”

Artona took a cleansing breath. “I know, but it’s a pretty big deal.”

Inta nodded her head in agreement. “That’s true; a Bonding is a momentous occasion. You will forever be connected to me, us, and the ship; but let me ask you this: would you feel any less committed if you weren’t?”

The Arc had already given her heart to the slight silver girl; this was just confirmation of what was already true. “You know the answer to that. I would die for you.”

Inta’s laugh was like a tinkling crystal. “Let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

They entered the med bay, and the large tub of silver precursor fluid awaited them in the back corner. Inta, naked as she usually was on board, climbed up and sat on the edge of the tub, kicking her legs as they dangled off the floor, waiting patiently for Artona to ready herself.

June, Will, and Ben stood close behind Artona, while every Toparian who could attend stood close by among the examination beds. Thea stood towards the back, leaning against a workbench along the wall and clenching her thighs. Even without being connected, she could feel the electric tension in the air as Artona let out a breath intended to calm her amped nerves.

“Whenever you are ready, Sweetheart,” Inta said soothingly. “We are here for you; take as much time as you need.”

Artona squared her shoulders and steeled herself for what was to come. “This is ridiculous,” she murmured suddenly under her breath, “I’ve faced death down a dozen different times, and now I’m afraid to get into a tub!?” She broke through her last resistance and began undressing.

She unbuttoned her red vest, slipped it off with her breast wraps, and then let them drop to the floor. Then she did the same with her pants and panties and stood before Inta, and everyone assembled, every inch of her muscular, furry body exposed.

“Uh, are you going to say something profound now, or do I need to?” Artona asked, unsure of the ritualistic protocol.

Inta giggled. “No, my Love, there’s no need for any of that. You just need to climb into the tub with me.” With that, she swung her legs over the rim and dropped in. Inta stood in the waist-deep silver fluid with no clear delineation of where she ended and where the bath began.

Artona easily stepped over the side of the tub, the silvery fluid barely reaching to the top of her thighs She towered over the slight, silver girl, facing her.

Inta reached up and gently stroked the brown Artona’s cheek. “After today, my beautiful warrior, we will be Bonded and as close as anyone can be. You will never go without love again.”

The fluid they stood in swirled around Inta’s waist and lifted her to Artona’s eye level, then they embraced her for a passionate kiss. Artona returned the embrace and kissed her. Inta’s eyes started glowing bright, and fingers of electric discharge began crackling across the surface of the silver fluid.

Inta dipped the huge Urarc as if they were ballroom dancing to the sparking surface of the fluid and submerged beneath it with her. Artona’s mass was enough that it should have displaced enough fluid to spill it out over the lip of the tub, but it only rounded up on top, Inta’s control of the surface tension absolute.

The members of the Nestia crew in attendance knew that beneath the surface, Artona was enraptured, filled, and connected in ways difficult to describe. She was experiencing the ecstasy of being imbued with the silver essence right down to the core of her being.

The electric arcing on the surface of the silver fluid reached a crescendo and then dropped off as Inta and Artona reemerged from the bath. Silver liquid matted her fur, obscuring her face, and when Inta brought her back to a standing position, Artona gasped air loudly, eyes blinking wildly. “Oh, Fuck! That’s intense. You all feel like this, all the time?!” she asked the others who had already bonded with Inta, and they chuckled in response.

“Yeah, she’s going to need to fuck you senseless for a month, at least, to keep the edge off,” Ben said, and Artona practically hummed in anticipation.

Still standing in the tub, Inta waved her hand down Artona’s naked body, and the precursor fluid swiftly ran down her muscular form, leaving her fur clean and dry. Her new silver markings running all along her body were revealed, the same shared by all who had Bonded with Inta. Artona’s markings also extended to her fur. The delicate pattern of silver fur glowed a soft blue, evidence of her freshly made Bond.

Artona felt the warmth of her new family’s love, and the patterns on everyone who bore the silver markings glowed blue in response.

“Oh, that’s new,” Will said, surprised, as everyone looked around at each other and marveled at their glowing outward sign of belonging. Toparian, Human, Andranari, and now Urarc were all bound together tighter than family.

Inta stepped out of the tub and offered a hand to Artona, helping her step out as well. Then, before she could dress, Artona was mobbed in a crush of hugs from her newly affirmed family, offered words of welcome, praise, and love.

“Cut it out, you guys, you’re going to make me cry,” said the massive Urarc, in a moment of uncharacteristic tenderness, as she hugged them in return. Then her eyes went wide as she felt a surge of arousal stronger than any she had ever felt in her life. “Aw shit, you all keep hugging me like this, you’re all gonna have to fuck me cross-eyed.”

Everyone chuckled as Inta took her by the hand and led Artona away to her bedroom. “Not so fast, I get first dibs,” she said with a sultry smile. “Your deepening has just begun, and I need to give you some proper ‘attention’. They can all get a crack at you after I’ve had mine.”

Inta’s words of possessiveness stoked a fire in the Urarc, who, with a deep hunger in her eyes, swept up the diminutive silver girl in her arms and rushed her off to the bedroom, with Inta giggling loudly all the way.

“We should hurry and get brunch out of the way before those two cast off enough ‘fuck me’ vibes to turn the Nestia into a ‘Dallas 2.0’,” Ben commented, poorly hiding the fact he was eagerly anticipating that very thing.

“Do you want some help in the kitchen?” June asked.

“Sure, that would be great,” Ben replied. “I was thinking about making spinach quiche with fruit salad.”

“Mmm. Sounds good,” June said, following Ben to the kitchen. Together, they started breakfast for the crew and smiled as waves of pleasure emanating from Artona’s room washed over them.

The first thing Diana became aware of as she regained consciousness was an overwhelming nausea and a pounding headache, several times worse than the night she had drunk too much wine with some friends from art school. Her head spun, and it was everything she could do not to vomit.

Lying flat on her back on a hard surface, she felt the cold air of the room and wondered why she was completely naked. She tried to roll over into a more comfortable position and found herself unable to do so. Wearily, she opened her eyes and stared at an unfamiliar high ceiling of rough-hewn stone.

Diana tried to turn her head to look around but quickly realized she was restrained and could not; a strap held her head fast to the cold stone surface. She went to reach up to her face and examine with her hands what was holding her head, but her hands and arms were bound as well.

Shakily, she tried to squirm on the hard, uncomfortable surface and found that she was completely immobilized, her head, torso, and limbs all secured to the surface she lay on with dozens of straps tightened almost to the point of pain. She could feel that even her fingers and toes were held firm by dozens of tiny restraints.

The details of her last few memories before she lost consciousness returned to her. There were men, with faces hidden in shadow, then a sharp sting ... She slowly realized that she was in a lot of trouble, and panic rose in her chest as she strained against her bonds in a futile effort.

“Master, the sacrifice has regained consciousness,” she heard a male voice say outside the range of her vision.

“Excellent. Begin the preparations,” a woman responded, her voice cold and full of authority.

Diana’s eyes widened as she heard lots of activity around her. She listened to what sounded like a dozen people moving around the large echoey chamber but could not see what they were doing beyond the periphery of her vision.

Her adrenaline spiked, ramping up her nausea but clearing the fog in her mind, and she again struggled against her restraints.

Listening to the unseen swirl of activity around her naked and vulnerable position, Diana heard the striking of hard-soled shoes against the stone floor approach her. A woman’s hooded face appeared and hovered over her, looking down at her with clinical appraisal.

Her face was gaunt, with high cheekbones and sunken eyes. She wore shoulder-length gray hair that hung around her wrinkled face as she looked down upon Diana with cold malice. The rough fabric of the sleeve of her red cloak rubbed against Diana’s bare skin as she checked the bonds holding her.

When the woman looked into Diana’s eyes, dread settled into her heart. The woman’s pale green eyes held a look of contempt and hunger that unsettled the frightened young woman, and she felt like this person intended to devour her.

The cloaked woman turned and seemed to gesture to the others that she could not see. She was handed a small wooden bowl with a small stick resting on the rim. With slow, solemn movements, the woman nodded to the unseen others and removed the stick from the bowl. It was a small brush, and as the hooded woman removed it from the bowl, she tapped it against the rim, knocking off the excess paint—silver paint.

The hooded woman brought the brush to Diana’s face and began drawing intricate lines on the skin of her forehead, cheeks, and around her eyes. As she did so, Diana felt a dozen other brushes stroke lines all over her naked body, the paint leaving cool streaks on her skin as it began to dry.

They covered every inch of her exposed skin with the silver lines and then carefully loosened one strap at a time to connect the lines beneath them, not allowing her to squirm away. As they proceeded carefully to decorate her naked form, she realized that there were straps every few inches along her body, far more than what would be needed to hold her.

“What are you doing? Why are you doing this to me? Please, let me go!” Diana pleaded pathetically.

“What are we doing?” repeated the hooded woman mockingly. “We are preparing you for sacrifice.” There was a smug satisfaction on the woman’s face, knowing with cruel intention what effect her words would have, as Diana began to hyperventilate.

They finished painting the designs on her skin and withdrew, and then Diana heard the hard clicking of the woman’s shoes as she approached her face again.

“You will be sacrificed to the Divine, who will, in Their infinite grace, share your life force with us.” The hunger in the woman’s eyes grew intense, and Diana shuddered.

“Please, don’t do this. Let me go; I won’t tell anyone, just let me go...” she wept and pleaded to uncaring ears. They ignored her pleas and continued their preparations.

Diana’s eyes darted frantically back and forth as the woman gestured to others to fetch something, then leaned her face close to Diana’s.

“It is important to the process that the sacrifice is fully conscious and aware of what is happening throughout.” Her face twisted into a sneer of perverse delight. “I will describe it,” she said as she began fidgeting with a bar suspended over Diana’s face. “A sacrifice must not be allowed to lose consciousness; the process is far more effective when the sacrifice is fully aware. An intravenous drip that will supply a stimulant to keep the sacrifice alert, as well as fluid and nutrients to sustain ... until it is done.” A cruel smile crossed her lips again. “It will be a long, painful, beautiful process.”

Diana stared at the woman in horror.

Before she could resist, a set of hands shot out from the other side of her face, forced her mouth open, and jammed a large steel ring behind her teeth inside her mouth, holding it open as far as her jaw would go to the point of pain. Then straps on the ring were clasped behind her head, securing it in place. “This is to prevent the ritual from ending too soon by biting the tongue off and choking on it. Happens more often than you might think,” the hooded woman explained wickedly.

Diana’s panic was now full-blown, rational thought gone, and only terror remained. The hooded woman patted her cheek gently. “Good; almost ready.” Tears streamed down either side of Diana’s face, wetting her hair.

On the bar over Diana’s head, the woman hung a clear fluid bag with a small tube connected to the bottom, then took a cap off the needle at the other end of the tube. “You will feel a pinch and a sting,” she said clinically as she stuck the needle under Diana’s skin, just above her clavicle.

Diana felt a rush of clarity as the clear fluid dripped into her system.

“The lid clamps,” the woman said to someone standing close. As she mounted a small tablet to the bar just above Diana’s eyes, she felt rough fingers pull her eyelids back and slide rounded metal hoops between them and her eyeballs, holding her eyes wide open. “Mustn’t close our eyes; we need to watch the process,” the hooded woman whispered ominously. She patted Diana’s cheek again, ending with a hard, stingy slap.

Diana cried wordlessly through the metal hoop, holding her mouth painfully open; her eyes darted all around. Sweat beaded on her forehead as her terror ratcheted up.

With one final adjustment, the tablet sprang to life. Diana could see her supine form strapped to a large stone table from several different vantage points; her knees held open wide. A heavy metal cage surrounded her body and limbs, except above her pelvis and exposed sex.

She could finally see the dozen hooded figures moving around her immobile body, finishing their preparations. Above her head, she saw a small cube block with what might be a gem set in the center.

Another view angled down her body and between her spread legs; across the room, she saw a large digital display on the wall over a low door showing fifteen minutes. Diana could see an overhead track connected to the ceiling leading from the door to the foot of the table.

A low guttural growl of some wild beast was emitted from behind the solid door, and Diana’s terror spiked anew.

“We are almost ready to begin,” the hooded woman said as the clock began counting down. One of the other hooded figures handed her a pair of thick gloves, which she donned, then a scalpel and a small glass tube with a black, viscous material inside.

“This, my dear sacrifice, is a very peculiar bacterium,” the woman said, holding the small glass vial up to a camera so Diana could see it. “This bacterium is special because it slowly feeds on flesh and bone but leaves nerve bundles completely intact.”

Diana stared at the little glass vial in horror, and her heart beat as though it would leap from her bare chest.

The hooded woman continued, “The net effect is that as the bacterium devours your flesh, every nerve is left raw, exposed and intact, allowing the afflicted to feel every exquisite iota of pain. Most died of a heart attack before it completely consumes it’s victim, but you, my lovely sacrifice, will endure it to the last, thanks to the drugs now in your system.”

The clock had ticked off five minutes as she spoke. With no more words, she stood and walked to Diana’s left hand. Diana winced as the woman carefully dragged the scalpel across her bound fingertips, leaving shallow cuts producing a single drop of blood on each digit. Then, with the tip of the scalpel, the hooded woman spread a tiny amount of the viscous black liquid over the fresh cuts.

At first, Diana’s fingertips tingled. Then, they quickly became itchy until they were slightly painful. But it didn’t stop. The pain in her fingertips continued to ramp up until they felt like they were on fire, and Diana began screaming from the intensity of it. And the pain didn’t let up, it continued to grow worse.

The woman cut slices on the tips of all ten of Diana’s toes and applied more of the bacterium, causing pain to lance up her legs. The hooded woman then finished with the fingers of Diana’s right hand. She screamed until she ran out of breath, then screamed out her next lung full. The pain was excruciating, pushing out all rational thought. In mere moments, the only thing that existed in the universe was pain and agony.

The woman handed off the scalpel and glass vial to one of her attendants, removed her gloves, and handed those off as well. She returned to the side of the screaming, tortured woman strapped to the stone table and bent low to whisper in her ear.

“The pièce de résistance, my delectible sacrifice, is that until we are done, every time that clock finishes its countdown, a terrible beast will be led down that track in the ceiling to your waiting cunt. It will violate you, again and again, as it has its fill. Every time the clock expires. It will be delicious to watch; I can’t wait,” she said sadistically.

“Oh, and it has one of those barbed penises,” the cruel woman explained off-handedly. “Very painful, I’m told. It has killed females this way before, but we’ll make sure that you get to experience it over and over.”

Continuously screaming from the intense pain, Diana looked at the clock display on the tablet in utter terror. Her mind threatened to unravel, but the drugs being pumped into her forced her to endure. With her eyes wide and almost feral, she watched the clock tick down ominously.

“Do you suppose your silver friend will get here before we’ve finished?” the hooded woman asked absent-mindedly, stroking Diana’s face lightly. Diana could not hear the woman’s words above her screaming and the immense pain shooting through every inch of her body.

The woman shrugged, getting no cogent response from the tortured woman on the table. Then, she walked slowly to a large granite seat just behind the stone cube at Diana’s head and sat on it. A gem matching the one in the cube was embedded in the high back seat, and it started to pulse and glow in time with the gem in the cube.

A wicked smile crept across the woman’s face as she leaned back and watched the clock tick down: one minute to go.

Artona slunk into the dining room, looking bedraggled and exhausted but wearing an enormous grin. She went to the table and fell into one of the chairs, panting. “By the Great Mother, that silver vixen has a hell of a lot of stamina.”

Inta followed shortly behind, grinning like she had won every kewpie doll at the carnival. “I need every ounce of it with you, my lovely warrior. It takes all three of them to give it to me like you do,” she said, beaming.

Will straightened up in his seat, grinning. “I take that as a personal challenge, Madam. I challenge you to a duel! What will it be? Dicks at dawn? Asses at sunset?” he said, the playful gunslinger drawl earning some appreciative chuckles from the crowd assembled for dinner.

“Anytime, anything, anywhere, Honey,” Inta purred, draping herself across his shoulders.

The rest of the crew had already tucked into the hearty stew that Ben had made, so June brought Artona a large bowl, set it on the table in front of the Urarc, and kissed her on the cheek. “That was just her opening salvo. She’s going to ride you so hard, you’ll walk funny for a week,” June said as she hugged Artona from behind.

“Can’t hardly wait,” Artona said between large mouthfuls, grinning. She shoveled down her first bowl quickly, got a second helping, then started on that one. “Alright, Inta. I’ll be ready for round two, in just a moment.”

“But for the real question: is the bed ready for round two?” Will said with a broad smile. “I know you’ve already demolished two; I’d be surprised if the third hasn’t already been smashed into splinters.”

Everyone chuckled in response, sat sipping assorted hot beverages, having finished their meal, and enjoyed the playful jousting.

“Last call for stew before I put it away; anyone need more?” Ben asked, getting ready to pick up after their meal.

Before he got an answer, Inta’s expression got serious. “There’s a call marked urgent coming over Q-net from Jeremy,” Inta said, concerned.

“Answer it please, and tell him we’ll be right there,” Will said, quickly setting his cup on the table and heading to the bridge. The rest of the crew followed closely behind him.

When they arrived on the bridge, Jeremy’s face was displayed on the screen, wearing an expression of deep worry that set their nerves on edge.

“Jeremy, what’s wrong, is Sarah and the baby okay?” June asked nervously.

“Yeah, they’re fine, but I just spoke with Commander Michaels. Inta’s friend Diana has gone missing.”

Immediately, everyone was intently focused on Jeremy’s next words. “He’s not sharing details, and only said that he urgently needed to speak with you. Something’s spooked him; he’s doubled station security and posted officers at our apartment. He said he didn’t know how to get in touch with you, so asked me to contact you.” The crew looked at each other, their concern for the sweet hostess growing by the minute.

“Thanks Jeremy,” Will said finally. “We’ll call Michaels right away. Give our love to Sarah and Tara. Take care of yourself.”

“You, too, Will,” Jeremy said before ending the call.

“Inta, can you route a call to Penrose Security?” June asked, a look of worry on her face.

“Already on it. Connecting ... now,” Inta said as the starburst pattern of the Penrose Security Force insignia splashed on the screen.

After the insignia faded, a young blond man in uniform appeared on the screen. “Security, please state the reason for your call,” he said formally.

“This is Will Foucault, crew member of the Nestia, a ship that had recently visited the station. We need to speak with Commander Michaels; it’s extremely urgent.”

“Please hold,” the young officer said, muting the call. He turned his head and spoke on another line, then quickly returned. “The Commander was expecting your call. I’ll transfer you now. Please stay on the line.”

The screen cut to the image of Commander Michaels sitting behind a desk, neatly organized, with a couple of tablets stacked on one side and several empty coffee cups on the other side of his desk.

“Mr. Faucault, thank you for reaching out so quickly. Did Mr. Walters explain the urgency?” Michaels asked.

“He only said that one of Inta’s friends has gone missing and that you urgently needed to talk to us,” Will replied.

“That’s correct,” the Commander began, picking up one of the tablets and reading the details of the missing persons’ report. “Ms. Davis ended her shift yesterday, and from eyewitness accounts and station security footage, she walked home by an indirect route that took her up to the Observatory Viewport.

There, several men accosted and apparently drugged her. The recordings show the men carrying her away shortly afterward, disappearing into the station’s maintenance corridors.” The crew on the bridge shared a horrified expression at the Commander’s description of events.

“After her manager reported her missing, the surveillance footage was reviewed and a team discovered that one of the maintenance airlock’s security panel had been tampered with. We assume that Ms. Davis was removed from the station through this unsecured airlock.” A brief look of shame crossed the Commander’s face as he admitted the breach in security on his watch.

He then pressed a couple of buttons, and a replay of the security footage from the Observatory filled the screen. As the timestamp in the corner ticked along, the image of the hostess, brunette hair up in a bun, came on screen, stared out the viewport, and eventually sat on a bleacher and gazed at the stars through the viewport, with a far off look in her eyes.

Inta watched with tears forming in her eyes; she felt like if she stared hard and long enough, she could almost see the dreams and visions dancing around Diana’s head like a halo.

A few minutes later, three men appeared, accosted her, and disappeared again, Diana slung over one of their shoulders. They appeared and were gone in less than thirty seconds.

“Those were professionals,” Artona said, experienced in such situations. “They knew exactly when and where to strike.”

“We checked the Station’s traffic control records,” Michaels continued, turning the video off. “There were no departures registered and no sign of a ship was detected leaving the station. We are still performing an exhaustive search of the station for her, but right now the working assumption is that Ms. Davis is no longer on the station.”

The Commander paused, reached down to one side of his desk, and audibly opened a drawer to retrieve something, followed by the sound of the drawer closing. He sat upright and held an eight-by-five card before the view screen. “This is the only clue left behind as to Ms. Davis’ whereabouts, placed on her bag of art supplies left behind at the scene of the abduction.” He held the card out so they could read the words, handwritten in flowing script.

“It’s addressed to ‘The Silver One’,” the Commander said, then paused. “Unless the abductors are speaking metaphorically, You are the only person who meets this description that Ms. Davis has come into contact with.”

“She doesn’t have much time,” Ben said, reading the rest of the message. “Is that it? Just ‘hurry’? There are no other demands on the card? Is there anything on the back side of it?” He asked.

“As a matter of fact, there is. I am really hoping that this means something to you. Forensics couldn’t make anything of it.” The Commander turned the card over, displaying the reverse side.

On the back of the card were several geometric patterns, all scribed one on top of another in seemingly random patterns. Each pattern was carefully drawn in slightly different shades of ink without apparent rhyme or reason.

The Nestia crew stared at the etchings on the card, hoping that their meaning would jump out at them and give some clue to the intent of Diana’s kidnappers, but nothing immediately stood out to them.

Ben looked deeply at the patterns, and a sense of familiarity emerged, though he couldn’t place it immediately. “Commander, can you please hold that closer to the display,” he requested.

The Commander obliged, and Ben got up from his usual seat at the back of the bridge and walked closer to the front screen. He stared at it a moment longer, then blinked as a sudden insight struck him. “Oh ... I think I know what this might be.” He had everyone’s immediate attention.

“It has the feel of an object projected down from a higher dimension, kind of like when you draw a cube on a flat piece of paper using angled lines to represent perspective. Look, see this line here,” he said, pointing to a curving line intersecting two others, “This could be a corner of an object. And these fainter lines could indicate vectors,” Ben paused his analysis. “But it doesn’t quite make sense; there’s something missing...” He said, fading off, scratching his chin, turning it over in his mind.

“Commander, are there any more details that you can see that we’re missing?” June asked.

He turned it back over so the Nestia crew couldn’t see it anymore and examined it closely again for the hundredth time. “Well, there is a small water stain, here in the corner.” He turned it over again to the display. “I didn’t think anything of it before, but now when I look at it, it seems a little too perfect a spot to be just a random drop of water.” It was faint, but there was something there.

Ben’s mind went into overdrive as he tried to assemble the geometric figures into a meaningful pattern but came up short. “We’re missing something. I just can’t figure out what it is,” he admitted.

“Commander, can you send us a detailed scan of both sides of the card? I’d like to keep working at this,” Ben requested.

“I’ll have someone send the scan at once.” The Commander momentarily set the card on his desk, then folded his hands in front of him, contemplating the situation.

Will spoke up. “Commander, do you think this might be in retaliation for the slave shipment Inta and the others disrupted?”

The Commander nodded softly. “The thought had occurred to me, and I haven’t ruled it out, though we don’t have any direct evidence that the abduction is directly connected. You folks are the only circumstantial connection between the two events.”