Chosen by the Governor (16 page)

“We tell of our past by speaking of it. We have documents for reporting events and recording data. What’s the point in keeping alive a fantasy?”

She puffed out her lips and mused over her response. “I’m trying to suggest that if the prisoners were occupied with reading, music, and perhaps teaching each other things, then they would be happier.”

Marco frowned. “Happy? They’re being punished. They’re rebels, murderers—”

“They were. They might still be some of them, but now they’re living in a hell and have no hope. Why keep punishing them when they’ve nothing to live for? I think, and of course, who am I to tell you what to do, sir, I think if you gave them a purpose beyond the drudgery of work, they might not spend their time fighting amongst themselves.” She lowered her eyes, putting into practice the training she’d been given on meekness.

He opened his mouth to dismiss her claims with a derisive snort then recalled the memo he’d received the previous day. Another string of assaults and murders, and although he’d had some success with capturing the worst perpetrators, Tagra remained difficult to govern. The factions had replaced their lost comrades with others and another faction had stepped into the League’s shoes. Women remained especially vulnerable and no amount of patrols could halt the rebellious nature of the colony’s population.

Where could he send those who made trouble? The ringleaders had been dispatched to another harsher penal colony on icy Barah. Due to the terrible conditions, most would probably not survive more than a few years. However, he couldn’t keep sending the worst offenders away to other penal colonies because most were already at capacity.

“Music? Would that really settle them? Books?” He shrugged, but didn’t dismiss her idea.

“One of my friends here, she’s able to recite by heart reams of poetry. Everyone sits rapt and listens. They’re wonderful stories of her culture and we talk about things. It creates harmony. Don’t you see?”

He didn’t especially. Warriors sought victory and power, not harmony. “I’ll think about it, Freya.”

She smiled and it pleased him when she smiled because through it shone her beauty. However, for now, he’d heard enough words. Fisting her wet hair in his hand, he tilted her head back and locked his mouth on hers before she could say anything else. He’d fuck her one last time before he had to leave. Today, she’d have to wear the plug for three hours. She accepted the plugging without complaint as if she expected the demands he placed on her during his lengthy absences.

He continued to plant hard kisses on her lips as he steered her toward the loveseat. Lifting her up, he cupped her ass in his palms and positioned her on the seat. She spread her legs and grasped the arm supports on either side.

He thrust once, driving his cock inside her pussy until his balls knocked against her. She cried out and her eyes glazed over. He waited, a customary pause while she adapted to his thickening shaft. He reached forward and gripped the upright poles by her shoulders until his knuckles turned white.

Freya whimpered. It wasn’t due to pain—he’d learned enough about her reactions to know that she wasn’t in pain. She was already desperate to come. He’d make her beg, as she knew he would, then he’d tease her with his hand on her exposed clitoris, suck her nipples, and call her his. Throughout, he would fuck her hard, so hard the seat might rock. If all went well, he’d come two or three times without resting, and she would achieve multiple noisy climaxes.

In an hour’s time, he’d be gone and she would have to manage without him for a few days during which time he would supervise the processing of another batch of new prisoners and the transfer of another lot to Barah.

He’d miss her, far more than he’d care to admit and far more than anyone should miss a jenjin. Perhaps Lalita had been right when she warned him that sentimentality was a poor trait. She’d hinted at her concerns when updating him on Freya’s behavior. Lalita had requested no punishments, but it seemed as if she thought Freya was manipulating Marco, rather than submitting fully.

“I can instigate higher protocols, if you wish, governor,” she’d suggested.

He’d heard her out, but couldn’t agree with her opinion. His time with Freya was too precious to waste on ritual displays of submission, especially the kind Lalita preferred. However, if Freya slipped up in a major way, he’d take heed of Lalita’s advice.

For now, Freya had his undivided attention and Lalita’s words of warning were best left in the back of his mind.

He swung his hips back, removed the entire length of his cock, then as she gasped, he entered her again. This time, he didn’t wait for her reaction before repeating the action.

* * *

The day after Marco left her floating in a state of bliss on the loveseat, Freya listened to Lucilla recount another poem over the dining table. It was a sadder tale about how her planet had failed to fight off the invaders.

“How long ago?” Freya asked.

“In the time of my grandfather,” Lucilla replied.

“Do you think the Vendu will ever stop hunting for new worlds to conquer?” she pondered.

“Someday. They need more love in their lives.”

“Yes, true.” She lowered her spoon and leaned across the table, so the other girls couldn’t hear her speak. “Why are you here, not the Volta, but here on Tagra? I can’t imagine you committing a crime or fighting.”

Lucilla picked at the food on her plate. “I don’t like to talk about it, because I’m not sure why. I wasn’t present when they sentenced me. I was put on a transporter and woke up on Tagra, then I was brought straight to the Volta.”

“You don’t know why?” Freya exclaimed. Her own experience of Vendu justice wasn’t great, but at least she knew what offense she’d been accused of committing. “You haven’t asked anyone?”

“Who, Freya. Who do I ask? I’ve been here two cycles of the sun and abandoned all hope of ever going home.” She wiped away a solitary tear with the corner of her napkin.

“I can’t believe there aren’t any records of your conviction here on Tagra. They must have your case files.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Perhaps I could find out for you.”

“How?” Lucilla asked.

“Marco, the governor,” she quickly corrected, “He would have access to the prisoners’ files via his console. I know the key lock for his desk console.”

Lucilla shook her head. “No, Freya, it’s too risky. How would you get there?”

She’d been accused before of taking risks, but this time there would be no nasty villains threatening to rape her. Instead, she was the governor’s jenjin and that had to mean something to those in authority. “I’ll tell Lalita that the governor summoned me to pleasure him in his office.”

“She might not believe you.” Lucilla glanced over her shoulder to the overseer sitting in the corner of the room watching them eat. “What if he is there?”

“He told me he was spending tomorrow in the barracks with the soldiers. They’re been trained in new stop-and-search techniques.” Freya had been increasingly a party to Marco’s diary. She felt a pang of guilt knowing the trust he placed in her when he revealed information. However, he’d shown no interest in individual prisoners and she doubted he would do anything for Lucilla given his busy workload.

“What difference would it make if you did find out about my case?”

“Information is the starting point,” she quoted her mentor. Spying was all about finding information, but using it was somebody else’s prerogative. “Once we know more, then it might become clear why you are here. If you haven’t done anything wrong, then you should be released.”

“I still don’t think you should do this, Freya. What if you’re caught?”

“I’m already in prison, what more can they do to me?” She knew the answer to that question and it wasn’t in the hands of anyone but Marco and he would make sure she was thoroughly punished. However, until she had some knowledge of Lucilla’s circumstances, it wasn’t possible to anticipate what Marco might do.

What also drove her was the need for some adventure. The humdrum of Volta had become too rigid in structure and almost too placid in temperament. It was like living in a surreal bubble where the jenjin went from task to task without a care for the rest of the colony or its issues. She hated not knowing what was happening to her friends in the canyon. After days and days of cooled air, she even missed the heat and dryness of the outside.

“It’s worth a try.” Freya picked up her spoon and returned to eating. She needed to work through the details of her plan in her head.

* * *

If she was counting on good fortune to help her, it came in abundance. Not only was Marco out of his office, but early in the morning, she found out that Lalita would be absent during the morning. The rumor mill maintained the current theory that Lalita visited the captain of the barracks and the couple had formed a relationship.

Lalita’s deputy, Meesha, was less formidable and easier to gull. It would take some tact, but Freya was convinced she could persuade the woman she’d been invited to Marco’s office. She dressed in a long gown, rather than a mini-skirt, and bundled her hair into a bun. She hoped the formal appearance would persuade Meesha.

“He summoned you?” Meesha queried, sitting in Lalita’s chair. “I’ve not received a message from him.” She tapped her tablet, then eyed the disk on the back of her hand with suspicion. “This is most irregular.”

“He wasn’t expecting to see me today, but an unexpected gap in his diary has opened up and I’m to hurry there. We wouldn’t want to disappoint him.” She emphasized the ‘we’ aspect.

Meesha dithered for a few seconds, grinding her teeth together. “Very well. I’ll have you escorted by Gellis.”

“That won’t be necessary—”

“It is absolutely necessary. Why would the governor expect you to arrive alone?” Meesha’s voice had tightened.

The ruse was in danger of failing. “He wouldn’t. Of course, Gellis will come with me.”

Once the maid appeared, Freya left the Volta with Gellis by her side. It was the first time Freya had stepped out of the building in a long while. A month, she calculated, according to her own personal calendar system.

“Once we’re there, you’d best be discreet,” Freya advised.

“You’re very lucky to be the governor’s jenjin—to have such freedoms. I would love to be able to simply leave here and…” Gellis halted.

“What?” asked Freya as she hurried across the city’s plaza.

“Nothing,” Gellis muttered. “It’s just a silly dream I have.”

Freya’s head was too busy working out how to dupe Marco’s assistant to question Gellis further. Entering the governor’s headquarters, they weren’t challenged until they reach the outer chamber. Puto was at his desk.

He looked anxious and his eyes flitted between the two women. “Yes? What are you doing here?” He peered at his schedule.

“I’m to fetch something from the governor’s office.”

Gellis spluttered, but when Freya nudged her arm and winked, the maid shut her mouth.

“What? I can do that for him.”

“Er. It’s in one of his drawers. It’s a private matter, and he specifically asked me to take it to the Volta… to use later… on me.” She lowered her voice, thinking fast on her feet of excuses.

Puto’s face flushed crimson. “I see. Do go in.” He waved at the door and the lock released.

“Gellis, would you wait here. I’m sure Puto wouldn’t mind some company.” Freya issued another wink. “Talk to him, please,” she hissed into the maid’s ear.

Freya slipped into the office while Gellis took the bait, asking Puto when he’d last had time off for relaxation. She enunciated the last word in a seductive tone.

Freya dashed across to the console, praying that the key lock hadn’t been changed since she’d been in the room. She tapped out the pattern and the console lit up with lights flashing. She perched on the edge of Marco’s chair and viewed the monitor with its Vendian text and symbols. With a trembling finger, she poked at one symbol. It fired up a query screen.

The risk she was taking for another woman suddenly seemed too great. However, she wasn’t one to back out of a mission. When she’d been selected for the spy program, her trainers had given her ample opportunity to leave if she thought it too challenging. They debriefed her after every test or mock mission until they were satisfied she had the necessary skills to cope with nerves. They’d frequently made encouraging remarks about perseverance and versatility.

Breathe deep. Stay calm. She echoed the advice of those teachers and focused on the task, reminding herself that poor Lucilla was somebody special whose unusual indoctrination as a jenjin wasn’t like the others.

She spelt out Lucilla’s name and immediately a confidential file flashed up on the screen. When she opened it, the answers to her questions were there, but they weren’t what she expected. What she read horrified her. Why hadn’t Marco done something about Lucilla’s captivity—it was so wrong. Freya’s opinion of Vendu justice sank lower and it made her fear her own wrongful conviction would never be addressed. Would anyone on Earth know that she’d been accused of the wrong crime?

She’d run out of time. A nervous Gellis wouldn’t fob off Puto for long. What she did with her discovery would have to wait until she could speak to Marco. The trouble was, how to explain how she’d come by the information if Lucilla herself didn’t know?

An idea would come, somehow. She needed to find something suitable in Marco’s drawer to take with her, something that would convince Puto. She was reaching across the console to switch it off when the door burst open.

On the threshold stood Marco, his eyes popping open wide and the color of his cheeks flushed an angry red. “What are you doing here?” he barked.

Freya sprang to her feet and backed away from the desk. Nausea swelled in the back of her throat and her heartbeats leaped into overdrive. “I… I…” She’d no excuses planned for such an eventuality. Nothing suitable to say to him. “I thought you were busy,” she mumbled.

“Lalita reported you missing with Gellis. She was convinced you’d run away.”