Slaves of Elysium (8 page)

A second foraging expedition closer to the camp produced the necessary materials. There was a short springy length of wood, a fist-sized stone with a slight hollow in the middle, a stouter straight stick with a broken roughly pointed tip, a length of pliant vine, a dry piece of log split off a fallen tree and fine dry grass.

While Rebecca looked on, Jeni platted the vine into a serviceable cord and strung it across the ends of the springy length of wood. She then twisted the middle of the cord once round the straight stick so that the loop was held firmly in place by the tension. With a sharp-edged stone she hacked out a shallow hole in the flat of the log and lined it with crumpled dry grass. Sitting down cross-legged at the edge of the tree line, Jeni braced the log between her feet and placed the tip of the upright stick in the hole, holding the bow horizontally. She kept the upright stick in place by socketing its top end into the hollow stone, then taking a deep breath she began working the bow back and forth like a saw. The looped bowstring turned the lower end of the stick rapidly round in the hole in the log, grinding wood against wood.

It took ten minutes of vigorous sawing before a thin wisp of smoke rose from the nest of dry grass. Then there was a pop and lick of flame. Jeni quickly added more grass and small twigs and soon there was a steady blaze burning.

As Jeni wiped the sweat from her brow Rebecca said, almost grudgingly, ‘That was quite clever. But it would have been quicker with matches.'

 

Jeni built a rough lean-to shelter of palm fronds against a tree close to the fire. Rebecca obviously resented the thought of sharing it with her, but was scared of spending the night alone.

As darkness fell they sat by the fire feeding it dead branches, driftwood and coconut husks while they dined on bananas and tomatoes. Stars came out clear and bright as the electric-blue twilight faded. The flickering fire threw dancing shadows over the sands and tinted the foam caps of the lazily breaking waves.

Rebecca, who had been silent for some time, suddenly said, ‘That time in the fog, I don't remember it too well. I think I was ill. But something odd happened. It might have been a dream, of course...' she was clearly struggling to find the right words, unwilling to admit how clouded her memory was because of the quantity of drink she consumed. Jeni said nothing to help her, but finally Rebecca spat, ‘Did Mark screw you in my cabin?'

‘Yes, miss,' Jeni said simply. ‘Though he didn't finish because you changed your mind about it being a joke and kicked me out.'

Rebecca gawped at her in astonishment. ‘Why, what were we doing?'

‘You were both drunk. I came to see how you were and you told Mr Devereaux how you'd spanked my bottom. You thought I'd enjoyed it and might be a masochist. You ordered me to take off my shorts and bend over to show Mr Devereaux if my bottom was still red. It wasn't, so Mr Devereaux spanked me again, then started to have sex with me. You thought it was very amusing, for a while.'

Rebecca blinked at Jeni's calm summary of the outrageous incident. ‘And you did all that because I told you to?'

‘Yes, miss.'

‘Why? What the hell are you?'

‘Probably a masochist, as you said. Maybe what they call a submissive as well, though I'm not sure what the difference is, exactly. I know I get excited at being ordered about by people in power, by being dominated. Though that was the first time it ever went so far.'

Jeni felt a strange thrill at hearing her own words. She had gone beyond the need for lies or denial and found a new freedom in talking so openly, even with somebody as unsympathetic as Rebecca. After what she had been through perhaps she could be herself now. But she would not reveal what she and Ash had done. That was between them alone.

‘I suppose you had some sort of ghastly deprived childhood that made you like that,' Rebecca said. She didn't sound concerned, just curious. She wanted to equate Jeni's behaviour with a simple explanation that accorded with her view of society.

‘Oh no,' Jeni said. ‘I was orphaned when young, but I hardly remember my parents, and almost everybody I've ever met has been very kind to me. But as I got older I knew there was something missing, though I couldn't tell what. It took me some time to discover I liked being ordered about, being treated thoughtlessly.

‘That's why I came to work for you. It was exciting to find somebody so mean and bossy, who was never satisfied.'

Her last frank words brought a flush of anger to Rebecca's cheeks. ‘What are you calling me?' she said indignantly.

‘It's the truth, miss. You can't help what you are any more than I can what I—'

Rebecca's slap caught Jeni full on the cheek. Jeni reeled back slightly, touching the red blaze on her flesh, then straightened up, gazing expectantly at her assailant.

Rebecca blinked at her in disbelief. ‘Oh, god! You really like that sort of thing, don't you?'

‘Yes, miss.'

Rebecca seemed at a loss, not knowing how to deal with Jeni's complete openness, but gradually fascination overcame her resentment. ‘Do you like all kinds of pain?' she asked.

‘I don't like stubbing my toe or cutting myself, miss. But when you spanked me with that magazine, knowing it was for no good reason; that was exciting. It's better when it's associated with sex, of course.'

‘Why didn't you find some sort of sadist to serve? I thought that was what your sort did. Then you'd both be happy.'

‘I wouldn't know how to look for sadists, miss. And I know people like that might be dangerous. I'm not stupid and I don't want to risk really being hurt. I just want to find the right person for me.'

‘Somebody to be your master, I suppose,' Rebecca said. ‘And you can be their sex slave.'

Jeni shrugged. ‘That might be how it works out, miss. I won't know until it happens.'

‘Meanwhile, you've been using me to get your perverted little thrills.'

‘And to earn a living, miss,' Jeni said with disarming frankness. ‘You do pay well.'

Rebecca stared at her in silence for some moments, then pushed her bare feet towards her. ‘Kiss my feet,' she commanded, and obediently Jeni bent over and kissed the smooth skin of her insteps.

Rebecca smiled. She dug her toes into Jeni's hair, rolling her head between her feet as idly as one might play with a ball. Then she pushed the toes of her other foot into Jeni's mouth. Jeni began sucking and licking each one with meticulous care.

‘You really are a servile little slut, aren't you?' Rebecca mused.

Jeni trembled helplessly.

 

They passed an uneventful if not particularly comfortable night under the lean-to, then towards dawn the air cooled, which they noticed, lightly clothed as they were. At Rebecca's command Jeni lay behind her to protect her back from getting chilled.

In between brief spells of restless sleep Jeni thought of Bradley Ash, desperately hoping he had survived. She liked him as a person and admired his capable nature. If he also understood her needs as she suspected then she would leave Rebecca for him. Perhaps he was the one for her. The one to whom she could submit completely.

 

Rebecca missed her morning coffee, but there was nothing to be done about that. Her masterful certainty of the previous night melted away when faced with the practical problems of the new day, so Jeni took charge.

‘We've seen some of the beach to the north, so I think we should go south. We'll walk until noon, and then turn back. If we don't find anything, tomorrow we'll try inland.

‘Why not go inland now?' Rebecca asked impatiently.

‘Because we can cover more ground and see further going along the shore than through the woods. If there was a hill close by it would be different, but the ground seems pretty flat. Besides, if there's anybody at all living around here there's bound to be a fishing village or something not far away.'

‘I suppose that makes sense,' Rebecca admitted grudgingly.

‘And you'd better drink plenty of water before we start, miss. We haven't anything to carry it with us.'

Before they ventured forth Jeni left a new message in the sand by the ashes of the fire – an arrow pointing south, with REBECCA + JENI scrawled beside it.

 

For two hours they walked along the fringe of the beach without seeing anything of interest. Jeni began to wonder if the local currents ran northwards along the shore, so any wreckage, or survivors, would have been carried that way. Perhaps Jeni had made landfall the furthest south of any of them.

They found no other supply of fresh water on the way, so they walked down into the shallow waves to cool off.

‘Where is this place, anyway?' Rebecca asked, as she splashed water over her face and neck. ‘Why hasn't anybody developed all this beachfront?'

‘I thought it might be somewhere in the Azores, miss,' Jeni said.

Rebecca was frowning at the unspoiled sweep of the bay they were traversing. ‘I don't think so.'

They had turned back towards the shade of trees when Rebecca stopped so suddenly that Jeni almost walked into her. She pointed. ‘What's that?'

Something was gliding over the treetops along the beach from the direction they had come. For a moment Jeni thought it was a small plane, then she saw it was a metallic open-topped disk-shaped craft, four or five metres across. It banked and headed towards them, and the heads and shoulders of half a dozen figures could be seen above its angled sidewalls.

Rebecca, who had begun to wave and shout to attract the crew's attention, dropped her arms. ‘What kind of plane is that?' she asked uncertainly, and despite the warmth of the day a sudden chill settled on Jeni's spine. The disk was moving without any audible engine sound. How was it staying up in the air? As it drew closer she saw the figures riding on the disk were pointing stick-like objects over its side. No, they were not sticks...

Jeni grabbed Rebecca's arm. ‘They're guns! Get to the trees, quick!' They sprinted across the sand towards the shelter of the forest, but it was too late. The strange craft was almost upon them, moving swiftly but still in total silence.

There came two rapid pops and hisses, like the release of compressed gas. Two projectiles flew through the air, swirling and expanding as they went, becoming nets of some fine black mesh. They dropped over Jeni and Rebecca like shrouds, clinging and coiling about their arms and legs, and snared like wild animals the two fleeing females toppled helplessly to the ground.

 

 

 

Jeni and Rebecca rolled in the sand, kicking and clawing at the nets that enveloped and entangled them. But the fine black mesh would not break and seemed to cling like a spider's web, and they only succeeded in entrapping themselves even further. In moments their arms and legs were snagged and they were reduced to flopping about like stranded fish.

Soundlessly, the gleaming disk settled on the beach a few paces from them, and through the mesh drawn across her face Jeni saw a section of the railing that ringed the upper curve of the disk fold out to form a short ramp. Then four of the craft's crew clattered down it and ran across to where she and Rebecca lay helplessly cocooned.

They were all men, tall and well built and clearly soldiers, yet like none Jeni had ever seen before. All wore what looked like synthetic white moulded helmets and body armour over simple red tunics that fell to mid-thigh. Greaves with extended knee guards protected their shins and they carried small oval shields buckled to their left forearms. Their helmets were straight-sided, incorporating cheek and nose-guards and leaving a slot for the eyes. They had ridges running from front to back across the crowns like vestigial crests. A saw-tooth pattern in green and gold decorated the edge of every piece of armour. Buckled about each soldier's waist was a broad belt from which hung a holstered pistol, a small pouch, a long black baton and a dagger in an ornate sheath.

The style of their uniforms had echoes of the classical world of the ancient Greeks, Jeni thought. But how could that relate to the flying disk, or the net guns that had so effectively ensnared her and Rebecca?

One of the men, who had an eight-pointed silver star emblazoned on his helmet and breastplate, circled round them, hand resting on the butt of his pistol. When apparently satisfied they were secure he pulled off his helmet. He was clean-shaven and his burnished skin had a reddish tint. His hair was dark and close-cut, his eyes dark and intelligent, his nose long and somewhat aquiline. He looked down at Jeni and Rebecca with an alert, curious expression, the beginning of a smile curling the corners of his mouth.

Rebecca, still swathed in her net, managed to struggle to her knees and glare angrily up at him. ‘Get these things off us!' she snapped. ‘We've been shipwrecked. We need help.'

The man, who Jeni took to be the squad's commander, shook his head and spoke back in turn, the words fluid and moderately pitched but the language completely unfamiliar.

Rebecca made the same demands in French and Italian, but with equal lack of success, and the commander said something to the others that set them chuckling.