Resistance: Hathe Book One (7 page)

An
expectant smirk on his face, the soldier walked in with what was
undeniably a spring in his step.

Marthe
watched as he approached, a wary unease taking hold of her. The
Major had pulled out a portafield control from his suit and
switched it onto her, holding her rigidly in place where she stood
in the centre of the room with her arms slightly raised from her
sides. They had returned her wrap to her as they marched out of the
Colonel’s office, flinging it roughly about her shoulders. The
guard dragged it off her now, leaving her in only her tunic, long
shift and boots. She tensed in readiness, looking beyond the walls
of the room to an imaginary horizon as she waited for the
slithering of his examining hands. She loathed being searched and
could endure it only by passing as far as possible into a
protective trance, ignoring the humiliation of her bodily
shell.

The
customary mantra she used, a collection of her mother’s gems of
maternal wisdom, began to unreel in her head. But this time it was
different. She had barely begun the third quote: ‘nice little boys
and girls do not leave prindars, especially live prindars, in the
boots of their cousins’. It was the one Maman had always produced
at least once during a visit by their cousin Ermentruda. Those
words would return her instantly to the world of her youth,
banishing the horror of the present.

Not
this time. The hands did not trace their usual, overly familiar,
slimy path over her shoulders and down her breasts. Instead, they
reached out to grab her clothes, and the overtunic was roughly torn
from her.

She
brought her gaze sharply back to the present, her eyes questioning
the Terran officer in stunned denial. It was no use. He lay back in
his chair, his eyes smiling in wicked delight.

“
Is
this necessary?”

“
Absolutely. The boots, Sergeant.” Her feet were lifted and
soon she stood barefooted, with only the protection of her shift.
For the first time, Marthe considered begging.

“
I
am concealing nothing. Why resort to this?”

“
My
apologies, madame, but my colonel did order a full
search.”

“
And
you are always so obedient.”

“
Certainly. Especially when it suits me so well, I have waited
a very long time for this moment.” His smile widened. “Continue,
Sergeant.”

Again,
she felt the hateful fingers pulling at her, and the coarse
material was torn apart and slithered to a puddle at her feet, to
be kicked to one side by a heavy boot. Her gaze had switched back
to the horizon, but her usual mantra was no use here. Never would
she let Maman’s memory be sullied by a moment such as this. Held
tight by the grip of the portafield, she could not even bring her
arms forward to cover herself. Nor could she avoid seeing the smirk
of the guard, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her.

Hamon
saw it too and shuffled restlessly, angry somehow at what he saw in
the soldier’s eyes. A nervous finger pulled momentarily at the
fabric of the chair, and there was regret in him. She was
everything he had ever imagined, and to gaze at her as he had
dreamed of for so long affected him far more powerfully than he had
expected.

He
should not have seen her first like this. He forced himself to
remember years of frustration and a jeering Hathian—this lady’s
twin brother—as Hamon lay sprawled in the roadway outside their
house. He let the cold mask of his face settle in place again. Then
he adjusted the field strength and ordered her to turn fully
about.

She
could feel the heat rush over her face as she obeyed, too conscious
as she turned of the two pairs of eyes examining every inch of her.
Radcliff refused to look her in the face. Gruffly, he stepped
forward with a cloak, wrapping it around her naked body. She
reached up to pull it close. Then suddenly felt her wrist grabbed.
She looked up, to be held by the slate green eyes of the secret
service Major.

“
This patch, what is it?” He was staring intently at a
slightly shiny patch on her inner wrist.

“
I
spilt some broth there. It’s only a dressing to cover the
burn.”

“
Oh?” His hand rubbed over the patch, felt a loose edge and
quickly peeled back the soft film. “You heal remarkably well. Not
even a scar. His eyes rose questioningly. “What exactly is this,
and I want the truth.”

“
Find out for yourself. You think yourself such an expert on
my people!”

“
I
will, never fear,” He stared searchingly at her for some time, and
she battened down hard on the dismay she felt at the loss of her
communicator. After a short, intent challenge, he shrugged and
passed the patch over to the guard. “To the analytical lab
immediately, Sergeant. As for you, madame, you will come with me.
It’s about time you were restored to something nearer your former
self.” He pulled her towards the bedroom, removing the cloak and
shoving her into the cleansing unit in one, undeniable
motion.

She
gasped, stunned into silence by the microjets of tingling hot
water, and by the sudden, repeated disrobing. Yet it was glorious
to feel the scrubbing spray of the jets. Too many days had passed
since she last felt truly clean. In her pleasure at it, she almost
succeeded in ignoring the Terran major, standing just outside the
unit and watching her, his infernal enjoyment obvious, both at her
predicament and at her nakedness.

There
had been a moment when she had sensed a softening in him, but it
was gone. Now, there was a smirk of thoroughly masculine
satisfaction on his face. But she guessed it wasn’t the sole reason
for his vigil. He did not trust her and would not leave her
unguarded. So she chose to deny his presence, turning up her face
to the water and luxuriating in the unbraiding of the hated coils,
to let her hair be flooded and drenched, the dulling powder scoured
completely away. Afterwards, the strands sprang to life, restored
to their native vibrancy as the warm gusts of drying air enveloped
her.

It was
bliss, and for an instant she let him see the woman she was, a
barely acknowledged dream out of her past, but with the shutdown of
the hot air currents she retreated back behind her mask. She caught
a look in his face then, a fleeting shadow of disappointment, then
bitter recognition of her knowledge of it. There was almost a touch
of defensiveness in his harsh tugging open of the unit door, but he
soon hid it from her as he handed her a sleeveless shift. Simple in
design, she quickly realized it was made to enhance rather than
cover.

“
This will suffice in these quarters,” he said, as if daring
her to deny it.

She
took the garment and drew it on. The material was soft, of a
comfort she had often longed for over the difficult years. Right
now, though, she would have preferred the roughness of her own
concealing robes.

“
You
have this stored here for your peasant drabs?”

“
And
any other woman I may come across in my line of work.”

“
Spying!”

“
If
that is what you wish to call it. You are entitled, I suppose,
since you are similarly occupied yourself. Are you not?”

“
No,” she exclaimed. “I’m merely a Haut Liege trying to remain
inconspicuous.”

“
Don’t take me for a fool. I assure you I am not, and much as
you try to hide what you think from me, you are not a totally blank
screen.” She began to protest, but was stopped by an exasperated
glare. “I don’t know yet what you’re up to, but I will find out.
Who knows, you may even tell me yourself after a night of suitable
persuasion.”

The
words brought a quixotic mood change and a wicked grin. He stepped
closer, taking her by both elbows and forcing her to look up at his
face. She gave in to her urge to retreat but his grip was stronger
than the caressing of his thumbs would suggest. He desired her and
was making no attempt to conceal it, the challenge clear in the
seductive mellowing of his eyes to a warm hazel brown. She was
suddenly very afraid. The cold officer, him she could resist. She
was not so sure about this man.

“
Major Radcliff, I am your prisoner, nothing else. I would
thank you to let me go.”

“
I
don’t want to.”

“
You
forget, you are responsible for me to your colonel. A valuable
hostage, I think he said. If you ever find my people, they’re not
going to be as willing to negotiate if they find I have been
abused.”

He
gave a short crack of laughter and pulled her even closer. “I
wouldn’t call what you and I could do for each other
abuse.”

She
feared he was right. “Your colonel entrusted my safety to
you.”

“
I
was ordered to keep you secure, not safe, and the Colonel is well
aware of what I intend for you. If you think Earth sent its
philosophers and chivalrous officers on this mercenary little
jaunt, you are mistaken. I am afraid we are all quite, quite rotten
to the core.”

She
believed him and pulled hastily back, as afraid of her own needs as
she was of him. Logic seemed to desert her, and she made a mad dash
for safety. He didn’t expect it and the surprise gave her release.
She raced through the lounge and to the outer door, so grateful to
be free that she forgot all about the field guarding the exit.
Slamming the opener with her hand, she made to burst through. She
hit the powerful force bars there, throwing her roughly back and
leaving small, painful burns on her arms, knees, stomach and
breasts.

Gasping, she stumbled back onto the floor. She was dazed but a
moment, then came to herself and half turned to her oppressor,
standing watching her nonchalantly from the doorway. A maddening
smile had spread across his face.

“
Satisfied with the security measures we employ? Though I’ve
seen less violent ways of testing them.” He strode across and,
surprisingly gently, picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.
Reaching into a cupboard concealed in the wall, he brought out a
bottle of thick, white cream. “Here, this will stop those burns
marking that so beautiful skin of yours, though it will still be
painful for a few days. I wouldn’t advise such heroics too
often.”

Still
dazed, she lay quiet, suddenly uncertain as she watched this
unpredictable man spread the cream across her knees and arms. She
put her hands out in protest as he pulled her shift higher to
anoint the angry burns spreading over her abdomen and up to her
breasts.

“
Easy there,” he gentled. “At present, my intentions are not
dishonorable. Or at least, I hope they’re not,” and he carefully
spread the cream over the stinging brands, pausing slightly to
caress as well as soothe as he reached her breasts, then found a
new shift for her and pulled it gently over her head and down,
lifting it over the burnt patches.

She
shivered at his touch, but whether from fear or delight, she could
not have said. She looked up, a strained question in the look she
bent on him. He didn’t answer it, but turned away, returning a
moment later with a mug of warmly steaming liquid.

“
Here, take this.”

She
hesitated, but then saw something in his quiet waiting that
unaccountably made her trust him. She drank, recognizing the taste
of the sedative he’d included. She needed sleep after these hours
of tension and she doubted he had included anything other than the
sedative. All he offered was sleep, said the look in his face. She
shouldn’t believe him. There was no reason to. But she remembered
that fleeting glimpse of vulnerability she had seen in him earlier.
She accepted and gave in. Her eyes drooped closed.

Hamon
stood watching her, curled up so carelessly on his sleeper, and was
aware of a rarely felt moment of contentment. To give her such a
respite was strictly against any sensible strategy, but to hell
with it. She would have little chance to sleep in the coming days.
Then, disgusted with himself, he argued instead that the sleep
would leave her unsuspecting and vulnerable to his
questioning.

Stars,
he was growing soft. Who was this man who stood here wavering? He
had a job to do and a world depending on him. He stalked angrily
away to set in motion the search for the male who had interrupted
him so suspiciously the previous day.

As he
stormed down the corridor leading to the native hall, the soldiers
warily sprang to attention. “Something’s eating the Major today.
Better watch out,” he heard more than one mutter. Did they think he
was deaf?

He
rattled off a staccato string of orders as he swept through the
Citadel, and within a very short time was pleased to see the
resulting chaos and consternation spread throughout the fortress.
He had the Hathians rounded up and brought to the hall, where the
men were drafted off to one side. The women could only stand by and
watch as, one by one, the men were forced to step forward and speak
to him. For once Hamon could sense real fear, not contrived,
pulsing in the air and driving him on.

An
hour or more passed and the twilight evening was fast approaching.
Hamon grilled native after native, never quite hearing the voice he
remembered. He had nearly conceded that his quarry had escaped,
when he was alerted by a sound at the back. A burly guard was
dragging forward a struggling pair, a woman and a man. He pushed
the woman towards the rest and pulled the man to a halt in front of
Radcliff.