The Clones of Mawcett (8 page)

If Jenetta had been hoping that the Captain would intercede on her behalf, it was now clear that wouldn't happen. She would have to go down to the planet and stay in the palace.

The_Clones_of_Mawcett

Chapter Four

~ October 11th, 2269 ~

Following the incident in the underground complex on Mawcett, heretofore quiescent gauges in the chamber were roused to activity without further deed or action by the scientists. The wall-mounted instrument panels provided an ever expanding notification of inexplicable activity. Most dig site workers had from the start been restricted from entering the underground facility, and even the assistants weren't permitted down there except when one of the four doctors was carefully monitoring the gauges. Keewatin and his deputy dig supervisor, Vendian, took turns monitoring the gauges throughout the night.

“We must tell someone, Edward,” Doctor Barbara Huften said forcefully at dinner on this occasion. “We have no idea what's going on down there. It may be a countdown for some kind of doomsday weapon. As Dakshiku suggested, perhaps it's what killed the original inhabitants of this planet. We can't continue to keep this a secret. I get more nervous with each passing day. I can't even concentrate on my work anymore; I'm too frightened by what we might have unleashed.”

“Barbara,” Doctor Peterson responded calmly, “we've seen no evidence that this equipment poses any danger to us or anyone else on the planet. If we call in Space Command, there's no telling how much damage they might do to this facility with one of their typical, clumsy, heavy-fisted investigations.”

“I agree with Barbara,” Doctor Dakshiku Vlashsku said, his skin color flashing uncontrollably in shades of red and orange. “We have no idea what's going on down there. The equipment is obviously doing something. It could be manufacturing a biological weapon of mass destruction, or building momentum to launch existing, buried weapons all over the planet. What if we're responsible for the destruction of another dig site staff? Or all of them?”

“Dakshiku,” Doctor Anthony Ramilo said, “calm yourself. As Edward has said, there's no evidence of anything dangerous going on. We've found no indications of power generation or use outside of this facility, nor evidence of anything like missiles.”

“Then why did this facility attack us?!” Doctor Vlashsku asked. “What happened to us inside that chamber after we were paralyzed? What was the purpose of the green gas that was released into the chamber? I don't believe for a second that it was an anesthesia procedure for patients being prepped for surgery.”

“And we haven't been able to get the other doors open in this facility,” Doctor Huften said. “For all we know, they could be missile silos. Dakshiku doesn't know how he got the first one opened, and we've all stood in front of the doors for hours, shouting commands at them until we're hoarse. There could be something very sinister happening behind those doors. I vote that we call in Space Command.”

“The vote has already been taken a dozen times. It's evenly split, and as site director I choose not to call them in just yet. If something happens to change the situation, I'll send the message immediately. Until then let's continue to monitor the gauges and carry on the work of trying to translate the symbols in the floor. If we can determine what this equipment does, it could be the most significant archeological discovery in the past five hundred years.”

“But will any of us be left alive to tell the tale?” Doctor Vlashsku asked morbidly.

* * *

When the time arrived for the Nordakian delegation to return to their planet, Jenetta and the Galactic Alliance senators accompanied them to the flight bay. One shuttle remained behind to take Jenetta and the three handmaidens to the surface once she had been properly prepared. As the senators returned to their VIP accommodations, Jenetta walked somberly back to her quarters on A deck.

The Marine sentry, still posted outside her door when Jenetta arrived, came to attention as she approached and entered her quarters. The unmistakable sounds of laughter and giggling could be heard coming from her bedroom so she crossed her sitting room in silence and listened for a moment at the open door. The three Nordakian women were sitting on the bed as they examined the clothes from the suitcases that Jenetta kept on the floor of her closet. Sent to her by the Raider commandant, Mikel Arneu, the clothes reflected the lifestyle she'd been expected to follow as a mindless nympho in a kinky sex palace among the stars. Captain Kanes had examined the contents of the suitcases and filed a report with his Intelligence Section. He told Jenetta that since the sender was certainly not expecting favorable treatment for the 'gift', and since they had little monetary value, she could keep or dispose of them as she wished. Kanes kept the note that came with them. Following Jenetta's escape from the Raiders, she'd received hypnotherapy to reverse the earlier attempts at brainwashing, but something made her keep the clothes instead of disposing of them. What probably tickled the three Nordakian women was that the clothes were so tight that Jenetta could barely walk in them, and the shoes and boots all had heels that were almost thirteen centimeters tall.

Feeling a little guilty about eavesdropping, Jenetta faked a light cough. Her presence was immediately acknowledged by the three Nordakian women, who stopped what they were doing and nervously jumped to their feet. Each placed her closed right hand against her chest and bowed her head. They appeared to be apprehensive over having been caught laughing about the clothes.

Jenetta walked to the women and said, smiling, “It's alright. I guess they do look pretty funny. That's why I keep them in the suitcases. People might not understand if they were to see them.”

“Only mine speak tiny Amer,” one of the handmaidens said. “Them no unnerstan her.”

Switching to Dakis, Jenetta said, “What I said was, it's okay to laugh at the clothes.”

The three women relaxed, smiled, and all started to talk effusively at once. Jenetta put up her hand to stop them. “Tell me your names first.”

“I'm Vronnesa,” said the one who spoke a bit of Amer, “and this is my younger sister Znanna, and that's my youngest sister Tkusa. We weren't laughing at your clothes, My Lady, only that the dressmaker sewed the arms together on one of the dresses. She must have had too much wine to drink at lunch that day.” The three handmaidens giggled again.

Jenetta smiled. “I think that it was done intentionally. The dresses were intended to restrict movement as much as possible.”

“Then the dressmaker must have been Nordakian,” Tkusa said grinning, and the other girls giggled. “But the clothes all look so new.”

“I've never worn them. I was enslaved by Raiders and they intended to make me a whore in one of their brothels. These were the type of clothes they intended me to wear there.”

Instead of the shocked expressions that Jenetta expected, the girls seemed to accept that as if they heard it every day.

“Where are all your gowns, My Lady? We looked to see if there was something appropriate for the palace, but these dresses were all that we could find.”

“I never wear gowns or dresses, only trousers. But I have a skirt that I can wear as part of my dress uniform.”

“We saw that in your closet, but you can't wear that on Nordakia,” Znanna said shaking her head. “It's much too short.”

“Too short? It extends to the center of my knees.”

“On Nordakia,” Vronnesa said, “your skirts and dresses may be no higher than the width of two fingers above the floor. Only women in the military are allowed to wear shorter skirts, and then only as part of their uniform.”

“Is that fashion, or law?” Jenetta asked curiously.

“It's written in the holy words of the Almuth.”

“So it's religious doctrine,” Jenetta said. “That makes it inviolable on Nordakia. I guess there's nothing of mine that's suitable then.”

“We brought several gowns with us, in case you didn't have something appropriate,” Vronnesa said. “We should be able to make something fit. At least until the palace dressmakers can prepare something for you. I'm glad that you're taller than we were led to believe. Men are so bad at judging sizes. But you'll be able to use your own underwear from the cases.” All three of the Nordakian women giggled.

“I can just use my regular issue military underwear.”

“You'd wear that, when you have such beautiful things hidden away in your suitcases? We can't let you do that, My Lady. Now just put yourself in our hands and we'll have you ready in no time.”

Three pairs of hands darted out and started removing Jenetta's clothes. Despite her mild protestations, they stripped her down to nothing in less than a minute. They must have noticed the large 'slave' imprint and serial number on her chest, but they totally ignored it. Jenetta wondered if they had seen such permanent imprints before, or simply believed that all Terran women were so marked if they didn't understand the meaning. She finally ceased resisting and allowed herself to be dressed in sexy underwear from one of the Raider suitcases.

Vronnesa opened one of the tall garment bags that they'd brought, and laid a lovely gown on the bed, while Tkusa and Znanna finished attaching her stockings to the garter belt. From one of the Raider suitcases, they selected a pair of black, single strap heels. They had her sit on the bed so that they could put the shoes onto her feet, adding thirteen centimeters to her height. As a result of the DNA recombinant procedure performed on Jenetta while she was a prisoner of the Raiders, she had grown six inches over her original height of five-feet four. While wearing shoes from the Raider case, she would stand six-feet three-inches, making her almost as tall as the Nordakian handmaidens, who wore only eight-centimeter heels.

As Jenetta balanced on the very high heels, Tkusa lowered a full-length slip over her head. Then Vronnesa and Znanna helped her to step into the gown they'd selected. But when attempting to zip it, they found the waist was too small. The three handmaidens discussed the situation and arrived at the only possible solution, a corset from the Raider clothes case. Made of a special material that actually constricted or expanded when a control device was used, the corset could squeeze a person's waist to whatever size was required, or at least whatever size could be endured. Znanna picked up the white controller from the case, and touched it to Jenetta's waist while depressing the button that would shrink the corset horizontally wherever the controller came into contact with it.

 As the corset tightened, Jenetta was reminded of her days in the Raider detention center where women were forced to wear corsets and impossibly tight clothing every day. Although facing a lifetime of such strict fashion at a brothel back then, she knew that her current discomfit would only last for a day or two until proper clothing could be made. The corset would have been much less uncomfortable if Jenetta wasn't so physically fit, because rather than compressing body fat, it was attempting to compress muscle mass.

With Jenetta's waist reduced by almost seven centimeters, Tkusa was able to close the gown. The three women then shortened the hem so it reached precisely two centimeters from the floor. The skirt portion of the restrictive gown wasn't as tight as the dresses from the Raider suitcase but it wasn't very far removed. Jenetta found she could only advance her leg about twenty centimeters with each step, and it would take three steps to equal a single, normal stride.

“Vronnesa, do all women on Nordakia have to wear clothing with such physical limitations?” Jenetta asked the handmaiden who seemed to be the spokesperson for the girls.

“No, not at all, My Lady. The lower your station, the more mobility you have. The lowest classes can wear wide skirts that don't restrict movement at all, while Her Majesty the Queen can barely walk.”

“Then you're telling me that any clothes I wear while on Nordakia will be as restrictive as this gown?”

“Yes, My Lady. This gown was prepared especially for you.”

Jenetta groaned inwardly, knowing that she would have to put up with this kind of apparel for an entire month. She wondered, if only for the briefest of moments, if it was still possible to refuse the medal award. But she already knew that would convey the gravest of insults to the Nordakian people, and to the government who had gone to great lengths to arrange this tribute to her.

Once she was dressed, the three girls had Jenetta sit on the bed so they could affix an elaborate headdress with long streamers of material.