I’ll pass, Ari told herself firmly. Especially with the look/touch field in place.
The look/touch was her own invention—well partly anyway. She had modified a holo projection field so that it produced tangible effects as well as visual ones. It was hidden in the fake prison ID she’d paid to have implanted in her skin so the metal of the ID would mask it completely. Her other failsafe—the one she was counting on to get both herself and Jak out of BleakHall once she found him—was hidden there as well.
Of course she had to get to him first, before she could use it.
“My Lady,” Hannah begged again. “Please, please reconsider! BleakHall is full of big, violent males and you are female. What will they do to you when they find out what you are?”
“They’re not going to find out,” Ari said firmly. “Believe me, Hannah—I have a foolproof disguise.”
“My Lady, just cutting your hair isn’t enough to hide your beauty!” her maid protested.
Ari laughed. “Oh Hannah—you always did look at me with a fond eye. I’m nothing special and believe me, right now I’m glad I’m not. But I’m not just talking about cutting my hair. Look…”
Reaching up to the hollow of her throat, she tapped lightly at the top of the triangular prison ID tag. The ID was coded to respond only to her DNA and inside it was the tiny bead which housed the look/touch projector. Ari felt rather than heard the hum and a prickling sensation ran down her body from her clavicles to her crotch.
“I don’t understand, My Lady.” Hannah looked at her blankly. “What do you mean? What should I be looking at?”
Ari looked at herself in the mirror but she was still wearing her dressing gown—dark blue silk, belted at the waist. It had been a present from Jak last Winter Solstice when the tulsa crop had been especially good.
“Oh, well of course you can’t tell with this on,” she said. Taking a deep breath, she unbelted the gown and shrugged it down around her waist. “Now look,” she told her old maid.
“My Lady?” Hanna stared at her blankly, her seamed and wrinkled face bewildered. Then her watery blue eyes widened and she gave a little gasp. “My Lady what have you done to yourself? Where are your breasts?”
Ari stared down at the flat, male chest the look/touch projected. Her breasts were nothing remarkable—they were teacup-sized with dark pink nipples that tended to be more puffy than Ari liked. But now they were completely invisible—hidden by the illusion of a scrawny male chest with nipples that were small copper disks, flat enough to make the walls jealous.
“They’re still there,” she assured her maid. “You just can’t see them.” Of course, if someone was to grab at her chest, they would be able to feel the soft, pillowy mounds of her breasts. Ari wished it wasn’t so but she hadn’t had time to perfect the top part of the projection as much as she’d wanted to—she’d been working too hard on the bottom half which was arguably the most important part.
She parted the robe further and looked into the viewer. There, plainly visible, was a male shaft. It was small and soft, curled like a sleeping worm against her thigh but it was there—and in more than just sight. The look/touch manifested an actual fleshy organ between her thighs which fit over her own pubic mound and hid her vagina from sight completely.
The organ wasn’t completely functional—it was mostly hollow for one thing and so was unable to become erect. That was fine with Ari, though—she didn’t need to get a hard-on—she just wanted to look like a male and she needed her disguise to be utterly believable. Which it was—she was certain. Since the fake shaft fit over her cleft so tightly, she could even urinate standing up if she had to—the shaft acted like a kind of funnel.
She had shaved her mound to make the fit perfect and tried it out only that morning—it definitely worked. The texture of the skin felt a little strange—too slick to be real since it was, after all, only a solid holo projection. But the look of it was perfect and that was all she needed.
“Oh, My Lady!” Hannah’s eyes grew so wide they looked likely to swallow her wrinkled face and she took a staggering step backward. “What…what have you done?” she gasped, her hands fluttering weakly. “You…you…this isn’t right! I used to change your nappies as a baby and I know you don’t…you can’t have a…a…”
“It’s all right, Hannah!” Seeing how upset the old maid was getting, Ari quickly tapped the prison ID and turned the look/touch off. At once her breasts and mound came into view, though she quickly covered them with her blue silk gown. “See? I’m fine,” she assured her maid who still looked like she didn’t know whether to scream or faint.
“How…what…?” Hannah shook her head, clearly bewildered. “How did you do that? Is it something you cooked up in that lab of yours?”
“It is.” Ari didn’t even try to keep the pride from her voice. “I call it a look/touch—it’s a solid holo projector. See, when you bend the light beam just the right way and treat it with a cadmium stream—”
“Please, My Lady, none of your science talk.” Hannah waved as though shooing a fly. “You know it only makes me confused. Well…so that’s how you plan to sneak into BleakHall. I must say, it’s awfully convincing.” She shuddered.
“Thank you—I thought so too.” Ari grinned. “So you see, Hannah, I’ll be perfectly safe.”
“How, My Lady?” the maid protested. “Just because you look like a male doesn’t mean you won’t be attacked. You’re so small and those awful males they keep locked up in that place are so big.”
“One of those males is Jak, which is why I have to go,” Ari reminded her. “And size doesn’t matter so much. You know Jak’s been teaching me Ton-kwa self defense for years. I can take on an opponent twice as large as me and throw him.”
“Maybe in the sparring ring, My Lady,” Hannah objected. “But never in a desperate, awful place like BleakHall! They won’t obey the rules there—there’s no referee to stop the match if things get too rough. And what if more than one attacks you at a time? Oh…” She brought her faded apron up to her eyes and began to cry. “Oh Goddess of Mercy, what will you do then?”
Ari felt a sudden cold chill go down her back. What would she do if she was attacked by multiple assailants at once? Hannah actually made a very good point.
Resolutely, she pushed the fear away.
“That’s not going to happen, Hannah,” she said firmly. “In fact, I’ll probably barely be in the prison for an hour. All I have to do is get in and find Jak. The moment I can touch him…”
Grabbing the old nurse by her arm, she touched her Prison ID again, rubbing the lower point of the triangular metal plate in a specific rhythm. At once a glowing golden bubble enclosed them both and they began to float upward.
“My Lady!” Hannah gasped, grabbing for Ari’s hand. “What—?”
Once more Ari rubbed her ID, turning off the switch hidden beneath it. The bubble popped noiselessly and they fell the inch and a half they’d floated back down to the flagstones.
“Oh!” Hannah stumbled and would have fallen to her knees if Ari hadn’t caught her. “What was that?”
“A tribian transport bubble,” Ari said. “It cost me almost all the profits Jak had saved from his last three harvests but I don’t think he’ll mind if it works. When it works,” she corrected herself quickly.
“But how…how does it work? If you can tell me without getting too technical, My Lady,” Hanna added quickly.
“I think I can manage.” Ari smiled at her. “The transport bubble is a solid lightbeam sphere just big enough for two. It can be deployed at any time and as long as you’re out in open air, it will take you straight up into the sky.”
“It…it will?” Hannah still looked shaken. “But then how…?”
“Don’t you see?” Ari asked. “I’ve just got to get to Jak when we’re both outside—probably in the exercise yard, which I know they have because I’ve studied the plans of the prison. Then the two of us float up…up…and away to a remote life support craft I’
ve already got orbiting the moon where BleakHall is located. It’s not much but it will get us back to Phobos with no problem. So you see, Hannah, I really do have everything planned out to the last degree. Now do you feel better?”
The old maid nodded thoughtfully.
“You know, I do a bit. Although…” she gestured to Ari’s closed robe doubtfully. “I had no idea you were getting up to such things in your lab, My Lady.”
Ari coughed, feeling her cheeks get a bit hot. “Well obviously this wasn’t the originally intended use for the tech I’ve been working on. I was thinking more along the lines of people being able to hug their loved ones when they made a holo call. I was just getting ready to publish my findings before…” Her throat was suddenly tight. “Before Jak was taken.”
“Well I must say—what you’ve come up with is nothing short of amazing. I do hope it will help keep you safe.” She enfolded Ari in a hug, her frail old body trembling with emotion. “I pray the Goddess of Mercy will watch over you, My Lady. No matter how many gadgets and gizmos you have hidden inside that awful metal tag you’re wearing, I still worry about you.”
“I know you do, Hannah.” Ari hugged the old lady back and reflected that Hannah was much more than a servant. She’d been with Ari’s family her entire life and though Hannah insisted on calling her “My Lady” and Jak, “My Lord” she was really more surrogate grandmother than domestic.
“Oh, My Lady…” Hannah mourned softly. “I can’t believe you’re really going to do this.”
“I have to do this—what other choice do we have? You know the Yonnites don’t allow their prisoners appeals—Jak has no hope unless I go for him. Besides, I’m going to be all right.” Firmly but gently, she disengaged from the embrace and held Hannah at arms length, looking earnestly into her eyes. “I’m going to go get Jak and the two of us will be home before you know it—you’ll see.”
“From your mouth to the Goddess of Mercy’s ear, My Lady,” Hanna whispered. But though she tried to smile and put on a brave face for Ari’s benefit, her faded blue eyes still filled with tears.
Ari smiled and tried to comfort her but she couldn’t help worrying herself. No matter how prepared she was, the fact was, she was a small female walking into a triple max prison filled with violent, dangerous males—many of them murders, rapists, and homicidal sociopaths.
She couldn’t help wondering if she would make it out alive.
Chapter One:
Six Months Before
“Commander Lathe, I think you know why I asked you here.” Sylvan drummed restlessly on his desk, a frown hovering around his mouth as he waited for the other male to be seated.
“I think so.” Lathe nodded, a fierce look coming into this piercing turquoise eyes as he settled in the chair across from Sylvan’s desk. “Is it about BleakHall?”
“It is.” Sylvan spoke quietly, still studying the other male.
For a Blood Kindred, Lathe had unusual coloring, he thought. Most of his kind had the same pale blond hair and ice blue eyes that Sylvan did himself. Lathe had brown hair though—a deep chocolate brown with auburn highlights and long, thick lashes to match, which fringed his strange turquoise eyes. But then, his coloring probably had something to do with the special type of Blood Kindred he was.
More than almost any other branch of the Kindred family tree, the Blood Kindred seemed to have a penchant for mutations and variations. And Lathe was the rarest of them all. In fact, Sylvan hated to risk him on this mission, which was horribly dangerous. Like himself, Lathe was a doctor aboard the Mother Ship and a well respected scientist as well. Such a mind and such rare talents shouldn’t be wasted on such a hazardous assignment. But the other male had a personal stake in this and honor demanded that Sylvan offer the mission to him first before he asked anyone else.
“As you know, the complaints about BleakHall have been piling up—from all corners of the galaxy,” Sylvan said, choosing his words carefully. “Ever since the Yonnites outsourced the guard duties to the Horvaths, there have been reports of abuses. Cruelty, torture…”
“And death,” Lathe finished for him, his eyes flashing.
“And death,” Sylvan agreed heavily. “Yes, I’m sorry for I know how it pains you to speak of this.”
Lathe’s younger brother, a promising young officer aboard a Kindred freighter, had been captured and sold into slavery on Yonnie Six. When he refused to submit to his mistress, he had been sent to BleakHall. Lathe had learned of his brother’s incarceration and had asked the High Council for help in rescuing him. But before a rescue effort could be made, word came that Thonolin had died in the dungeons of the Triple Max penitentiary.
Lathe’s eyes were bright, but with fury, not tears, Sylvan saw.
“I don’t mind speaking of death as long as we also speak of justice,” he said, his voice a low, angry growl. “What can be done to avenge my brother’s murder?”
“First and foremost we must prove the problem exists,” Sylvan said.
“What?” Lathe demanded. “Of course it exists! You said it yourself—complaints are pouring in from everywhere. Clearly this prison is corrupt—the Horvaths are torturing the prisoners, killing them! They—”
“No one cares,” Sylvan cut in harshly. Seeing the shocked look on Lathe’s face, he made his tone softer. “Forgive me, Brother. I should have said, no one in Yonnite society cares. More specifically, no one on the Yonnite Council of Mistresses—the Sacred Seven—cares. And until we can bring the matter to them with corroborating evidence to prove that there is wanton cruelty and abuse being committed by the guards, they aren’t going to listen to us.”
“Why can’t we just attack the damn prison?” Lathe growled. “It’s full of males who shouldn’t be there.”
“It’s also full of males who should,” Sylvan said gently. “BleakHall is the only penitentiary in the galaxy that accepts many of the felons housed there. If we attack the prison, not only do the Kindred declare war on Yonnie Six, we also release more rapists, murderers, and sociopaths on the galaxy than have been free seen since the Scourge were at full strength.”
“What about the honest males? The ones who were captured as slaves and refused to bow their heads to Yonnite mistresses?” Lathe demanded. “What about them? Do we just forget them because they happen to be in BleakHall and the Council doesn’t want to risk war with Yonnie Six?”
“Nobody is forgetting them,” Sylvan said evenly. “In fact, we’re in the process of arranging a back-channel to get them out.”
“Too bad no one could arrange such a thing for Thonolin.” Lathe’s deep voice was bitter.
“It’s because of your brother’s death that we are doing so now,” Sylvan said, speaking as gently as he could. “We’re going to try to make certain that no more innocent lives are lost to BleakHall. But we need a male on the inside to help facilitate the channel and to gather evidence to present to the Yonnite Council of Mistresses about what is really going on in their prison.”
“You mean…” Lathe’s turquoise eyes went wide. “You want someone to go into the prison under cover? Pretending to be a prisoner?”
“Exactly.” Sylvan nodded. “If we can prove the abuse, we can make them see that the current ownership of the prison is corrupt and force them to do something about it. If they don’t, other planets will stop sending them prisoners and their bottom line will suffer.” He shook his head grimly. “That’s about the only thing that Yonnites understand. The Goddess knows most of them don’t have much in the way of compassion or pity.”
“You speak as though you had personal experience of them,” Lathe remarked, keeping his tone neutral.
“Only in passing but that was enough.” Sylvan told him of his recent encounter with a Yonnite Mistress—Mistress Hellenix and her Volt Kindred slave, Malik.
“And you say he was a Volt Kindred?” Lathe’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know there were any left. How did she keep such a powerful male contained?”
Sylvan shook his h
ead. “It was my impression that she didn’t—he stayed with her for a reason. Though what that reason was, I never found out. In fact…” He steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “We have reason to believe that Mistress Hellenix is one of the Yonnites responsible for outsourcing BleakHall’s guard positions to the Horvaths. She sits on the prison’s board of directors and plays a most active roll in its administration.”
“I wonder if she ever bothers to come to the prison itself to see how its being run?” Lathe muttered. “I wonder if I’ll see her while I’m there.”
“While you’re there?” Sylvan frowned.
“Isn’t that why you called me here? To offer me the mission?” Lathe asked. “You don’t have to ask, Commander Sylvan—my answer is yes. I’ll do everything I can to avenge my brother’s death and make certain no other innocent males are trapped at BleakHall.”
“It’s very dangerous,” Sylvan pointed out. Though honor demanded that he offer the assignment to Lathe, he couldn’t help wishing that the other male would turn it down. But one look at the fury in those turquoise eyes let him know his wish was in vain.
“I don’t give a damn,” Lathe growled. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary—danger or not.”
“You’ll need to wear a vid-corder. We have one implanted in a prison ID you’ll be wearing—it’s only five microns wide by eight microns across,” Sylvan told him. “With it you can record everything that happens all around you—especially the evidence of abuse. We’ve arranged to get you in as a prisoner and your backstory is that you’re a medic. With any luck the Horvaths will allow you into the BleakHall infirmary. You can record first-hand accounts of every injury that occurs there.”