Brought the Stars to You (9 page)

Sliding the blade back, the light glow of its black edge reflected
off her smooth blue skin across her shoulder and down over her back
to just above her tail bone. "I'm going to take it real slow for
your first time, don't you worry your tight little cunt," he
said, gingerly lowering the edge of the blade until it sliced skin,
causing blood to pour out of the wound as he traced a light line in a
curve across her back.

Even with all the control that she could muster, she wasn't able
to stop the gurgled scream of pure agony.

Earlier that day Kieren had arrived before dusk, before the club
had even opened. He slept poorly not because of how she taunted him
in his moments of rest through his mind, but because he couldn't rest
knowing her--their--predicament. He wanted so badly to do what was
best for her, and he meditated long into the day after returning from
the club. It was that previous night he was granted a vision, it
seemed. And worry--near panic, in fact--had awoke him and brought him
early.

Finally allowed in, he didn't see his beloved Ardanna anywhere,
and despite his questions he was only reassured she'd be out before
long by the bartender and staff. When finally another Phhia dancer
came out, all smiles and pouty seduction to tell him she was busy
with another client, his worry was not eased at all.

The new woman did her best to entertain him and win his approval,
but he had no interest in paying for her time, despite the best
efforts of the management to try and cater to his 'tastes' as Ardanna
had done so well. After dissuading the pestering dancers for yet
another time, his impatience had grown. He felt--no knew--he couldn't
delay any further.

Guided by his intuition--or the vision bestowed to him--he stalked
towards one of the back entrances. A large guard wielded a stun club
and moved to block his way, the Fumean giving an intimidating growl
to ward him off.

Kieren, feeling his dear Ardanna was in danger, had no time for
this brute. It was easy for him to call upon the balance of his inner
power--the glue of the universe--to manipulate the simpleton's mind.
"There's a fight at the bar. Go handle it," and with hardly
a second glance, the brute was off.

Making his way through the door, he found himself in the maze of
back corridors. Moving through them, his robes swept behind as he
passed the occasional confused dancer. His steps were hurried and
when he arrived the door to the room was locked, its metal
unyielding.

Panic nearly overtook his trained calm, and he just about grabbed
for his laser weapon to cut through, when he instead brought his
training into focus. Crouching, he began to work the locking
mechanism.

Inside the room, the cruel Admiral was slicing a shallow
'illustration' into Ardanna's lower back, completing the smooth curve
of his 'art' when the door slid open in its smooth nature. The
Admiral's face flew into an instant rage at being disrupted, lifted
his blade from her as he began to shout, "What are you doing?!
You said I'd be given the whole night's privacy!" Before he
could finish, the blade went spinning from his grasp and clattering
to the floor.

Kieren, too consumed with his desire to protect Ardanna to do
anything but act, had shot out his own hand, manipulated the weapon
from a distance through the training and microbial implants in him.

Ardanna's mind was filled with pain and whole hearted agony, to
the point that she wasn't even aware what the Admiral was screaming
at or why. Her vision was clouded as it took every ounce of her
ability to just hold in her own cries. Her body was so tense, it felt
heavy and weighted as she was posed there, blood pooling around her
back as tears streamed down the woman's cheeks, silent and filled
with anguish.

The two men seemed too consumed with each other in that moment to
pay the poor victim any attention. The Admiral, stunned at the
disarmament, swung his hand around with the gun and fired at the
intruder. A red arc of energy laced towards Kieren but with the
reflexes and training of a lifetime, he whipped his laser-blade out
and flashed it to life as he simultaneously deflected the shot
harmlessly towards the ceiling to smoulder out with his free hand.

With a cry that would have disappointed his Fiato masters who
trained him against emotions, Kieren moved into the room and swiped
his weapon in a brilliant arc that severed the man's hand beneath the
wrist. Eyes widened in shock, the Admiral stared at the cauterized
stump of his arm.

Ardanna had slumped forward, giving her eyes time to clear from
the fog before she realized what had happened, or, at least, what she
gathered had happened. It hurt for her to move, to sit up. She knew,
though, with the scent of burning flesh, that someone had come to her
rescue, "Stop," she croaked out, the words dry and brittle,
though still holding every bit of conviction she could muster into
it.

The wounded Admiral, now gaping at his burnt stump, flashed his
eyes over at the
Fiato
, then back at his arm before beginning to
shriek in pain. Crying loudly, he screamed "You'll pay for
this!" Amidst the gibberish of pained cries, he sputtered,
spitting out upon his chin, rocking back and toppling onto the couch
rocking himself against the pain.

Letting his laser weapon dissipate, Kieren moved quickly to
Ardanna, reaching a hand to her arm to hold it as his brows furrowed,
"Ardanna?" His voice was laced with concern as he tilted
himself to her level, "Ardanna are you okay?" his voice was
tense with worry as the man next to them wailed in pain. Fortunate
for the rescuer, the door shut closed after his entry of its own
accord, blocking out much of the noise from the rest of the club.

She whimpered and sobbed, shaking her head, "You shouldn't
have come," she mumbled out over her own spit laced lips, a sob
coursing through her and causing a brilliant stab of pain. "Go.
You have to go," she finished, slumping forwards further, her
body almost fully nude except for the shoes on her feet and the top
that was partially on, partially off.

His bare hand tightened upon her blue arm as he tried to help her
up, "No," he said with excited worry, "you've been
assaulted, we... we have to turn this man in, and... and get you away
to safety," he said, slipping his laser weapon back into its
place within the folds of his robes. "Come on, Ardanna," he
pleaded, his voice almost torn with his concern for her.

The wounded Admiral meanwhile got the presence of mind to curse at
him--them--spitting out quite literally each hateful word, "You'll
never get away with assaulting an Admiral of the Union Fleet!"

She whimpered as she tried to move, struggling to stand with his
help, "We can't turn him in!" she grunted out each word.
"They'd just kill both of us." Just speaking reminded her
of the pain and exhaustion in her body, "Go," she looked up
at him, sadness present there. "You have to get away."

Looking at her through her insistent pleas for him to leave, his
brows were furrowed in pain. That was not something he was willing to
consider. The Admiral cursed them both again, "You're both
fucking dead! Don't even worry about the Union, you fucks! The Tong
mob will have your skins on my wall in a day!"

The rabidly angry man was nearly frothing at the mouth, and never
before in his life had Kieren wanted to hit someone like he did then.
The Fiato looked to Ardanna, "We both have to go then, you heard
him. Come with me," he said, loosening his grip upon her arm to
a comfortable degree and then squeezed her briefly in reassurance.

Her shoulders sagged from the pain of the moment, both emotional
and physical, while looking over at the Admiral. She almost felt pity
for him, her ever present compassion and empathy bubbling to the
surface; surely without his hand he'd not do much of anything
himself. Then she remembered his promise to ruin her. She had thought
it had been simple euphemism at that point, another way of saying he
was going to take her virginity, but it hadn't turned out so simple.

Each move of her body was agony, and she was terrified at that
moment, enraged, disgusted at the feel of her flesh and the sense of
pity she felt for the man. He had started out so nice. He'd called
her 'sweetie'.

The younger man was consumed with pity and sadness for what was
done to her, regrets and wishes that he had rushed to her sooner
nagged at the edge of his tumultuous thoughts wherever they could,
and he wanted so dearly to make it all better for her.

She looked down at the Admiral with malice in her eyes, "Don't
make a sound," she said cruelly, staring at him, repeating his
words before looking up at Kieren. "We should kill him,"
she said with uncharacteristic coldness.

Kieren didn't know exactly what had happened, but the shift of
emotions on her face and the cold declaration chilled him.

Only a lifetime of moulding and shaping kept him from crying at
what was done to her then. Before he could respond to her, however,
the Admiral's eyes went wide at her words, and he lunged with his one
good limb for the laser gun upon the floor next to his severed hand
in a panic.

Despite his conflicted state, Kieren's responses were quick.
Almost instantly he flung out his hand and drew the weapon to him,
away from the grasping limb.

Cursing in frustration, the Admiral cried out in a mix of agony
and frustration.

"Hey!" she shouted, her eyes hard on the writhing man,
"You know what's satisfying, Sir? It's watching you squirm after
you took such pleasure in trying to ruin me!" She stared down at
him, looking over at Kieren, "Give it to me," she said with
that same hardness, adrenaline pumping through her body.

Watching her fly into such a sudden rage, first pity consumed him,
then anger. Pity for what horribleness had been done to her to make
this beautiful, wise woman feel such hatred, then his own sympathetic
emotions began to take hold as he pondered the depths of it.

What if he hadn't been here in time at all? He had no words to
return to her, his mind too consumed with his own broiling rage as
his brows furrowed and his gaze turned to the man. Training tried to
take hold, to calm himself, to swallow down the anger and emotion,
but he didn't want to let it go. The battle for supremacy between the
conflicting empathy and training left him still.

"Listen, he's just going to tell everyone the second we leave
and we'll never get out of this damned room let alone this planet!
You heard him, he's an Admiral for the Union and the club would pay
in our blood as quick as they can draw it. If he's dead," she
shoots the Admiral a glare, "we might have time. It has to be
done."

His glare never faltered, eyes glued to the man with flared anger
behind his gaze. In his emotion fogged mind her words made no less
sense, and when the Admiral jerked back into the corner of the couch
and cried at them, "They'll never stop hunting you if you kill
me!" Kieren snapped at the man bitterly.

"Shut up! You're nothing! I'll get her away from here like I
should have days ago, and you'll just be a dark little shadow of a
memory, you filth!" He had never spoken so emotionally in all
his life, and it felt good to vent his rage at this sick mockery of a
man.

She stared, coldly at the Admiral, "You just said they'd kill
us in a day for leaving you disfigured, now they'll hunt us for all
time if we kill you. I dare say one's better than the other,"
she reached out her hand for the gun from Kieren, "We don't have
much time," she spoke to her beloved Fiato with tenderness,
tinged with impatience, "We have to get out of here."

His hate-filled gaze was finally broken when she reached to take
the gun from him. Looking down at it, then her, he snatched it away.
"No," he said immediately, the Fiato part of him speaking
on instinct and not allowing the murder of another. The absurdity of
that kicked in though. She was right, they had no choice. With his
free hand still upon her, he tugged her close to his chest, murmuring
near her cheek, "I'll do it."

He slipped his fingers around the handle and trigger, taking aim
at the Admiral as he cowered, covering his face with his sliced arm,
"Don't!" he cried out pathetically as the Fiato took aim.

Even through all her rage, her hurt, her anger, her fear, she
still pitied the man that felt so small he had to brutalize her just
for the satisfaction of it. It disgusted her at the same time that it
enraged her, and she looked away, her blue eyes a bit glossy still,
hand clung around her love's back, face buried into his shoulder.

Kieren looked away at the last moment, letting his eyes dart to
the side as he pulled the trigger. Then again. Again. He didn't leave
it up to fate. He wouldn't leave her life up to chance, he decided.
Couldn't. The psychotic Admiral was dead, maimed and blasted with
multiple smouldering holes when finally he dropped his head and
flicked his gaze to the lifeless husk.

A feeling of guilt and wrongness tried to flood him, but he put up
barriers inside his mind, all of them emblazoned with her name.
Leaning down, his own eyes were at last filled with glossy tears,
though he kissed her head and murmured to her breathily, "Do you
have anything else you can put on? We have to go right now."

She nodded, looking around at her panties, then her discarded
nightgown, motioning to them with her eyes, "Bring them to me
please?" she asked. "I can move pretty quickly in the
heels, but no matter what we'll be drawing attention once we're out
of the club." She groaned lightly as she tied her top back up,
"He has some stuff, clothes, I think."

Nodding to her, he pried himself from her hold. He picked up the
bikini bottom, then the gown and--for a moment--looked about to throw
the gun away distastefully, before pocketing it in one of his robe's
many folds.