Don't Label Me! (10 page)

“
Will do.”

Later that afternoon Phoenix paced
restlessly. They’d briefly updated Simon and Tyra on their
situation and the attempt to squash all coverage of anything to do
with Boswell only to be offered the job of Boswell’s new marketing
and communication’s team. Mike and Josh had gone to the next room
to set up for the interview. Waiting wasn’t one of her better
skills. Hell, the boredom of not constantly doing something nearly
killed her.

“
What you need is some dialectical
behavioural therapy”

“
Some what?” She glared at Simon who
was waiting with her while Tyra got changed for the interview. Who
thought up such jargon plagued names for therapies anyway? Then she
vaguely remembered where she’d heard something about a therapy
called DBT. “Isn’t that something for drug addicts and the mentally
ill. I don’t need any therapy. There’s nothing wrong with me.” She
glared at him more.

Simon sighed. “Trian said he thought you
might be ready to deal with your reactiveness. The therapy I’m
suggesting is a secular mindfulness technique I think you’d take to
better than the more spiritual paths. It also teaches radical
acceptance and some interpersonal skills you’d find useful.”

Reactiveness, now that was a nice way of
putting it. More like fly off the handle and blow up every little
obstacle into a major catastrophe. She suspected he was being
polite. He was right about her not liking religion mired self help
though. She’d had enough of her fundamentalist dad when she was
growing up. Hell, at one point he’d even tried to get her
exorcised. She’d taken that as her cue to leave home and moved in
with some college friends, working in coffee shops in her spare
time to pay her way through uni. Time to change the subject. “Who’s
Trian?”

“
The voice you sometimes hear in your
head.”

“
My subconscious doesn’t have a
name.”

“
He’s not your subconscious and you
know it.” She needed to acknowledge that. “When did you first start
hearing him?”

She hadn’t really thought about it. “I
suppose it was just after I had that injection your geneticist
Jnarn said would protect me from some virus and allow me to pass
through your portal.”

“
Talk to that inner voice now. Ask him
what he is.”

Phoenix shrugged her shoulders. No big
deal, wouldn’t hurt to humor Simon. He was a nice enough guy. He
looked after her friend Tyra well and that earned him brownie
points in her miniscule book of male merit. She turned her mind
inwards.
Okay subconscious. Can you hear
me?

Of course.

Well you heard the question. What are
you?

Cheeky brat. A Malakim.

A what?

What Simon is.

“
Simon, he says he’s a Malakim like
you, whatever that is.”

Simon passed her some earplugs and dark
glasses he’d quickly grabbed while she conversed with Trian. “Use
these!”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow but complied.
Obeying anyone’s commands wasn’t her forte but she put the earplugs
in and donned the glasses just before her world went white as Simon
morphed into blinding light and high frequency sound then morphed
back to looking human again. “We are higher vibrational beings,
that’s all. We came long ago to stop the enemy who was bent on
taking over your planet. We failed and in the process seven of our
kind were imprisoned in stone, in a substance which is that hardest
known in the universe. They couldn’t teleport themselves out of
it.”

Teleport? He had to be kidding right? As if
reading her thoughts Simon disappeared from in front of her then
tapped her on the shoulder from behind. “Freaking hell!” Why did he
have to go and do that while her film crew were out of the room.
Now that would have been an exclusive.

“
Maybe sometime in the future but the
world’s not ready for that kind of wholesale show and tell
yet.”

“
You really can read my mind, can’t
you?”

“
Obviously.”

Duh, talk about feeling stupid.

“
Red, you are certainly not stupid,
just unsure of yourself. Your attempts to prove yourself through
being reactive, aggressively assertive and at times arrogant, are
merely ways to overcompensate for the weakness of your self
esteem.”

Phoenix winced, damn he was so spot on.
“Sheesh, don’t let the film crew hear you, you’ll give all my
secrets away.”

Simon decided he’d rattled Phoenix’s cage
enough for one day. He sent a stream of strengthening healing
energy from his heart to hers. “Red, you’re no more or less than
the rest of us. The sooner you realise that the sooner you can be
everything you were meant to be. Now go and do your interview.”

...

General Polemarch’s grinned as he viewed the
video clip one of his contacts had just sent to his mobile phone,
an interview with Tyra Goodwin. Someone had found a way around
Sakla’s media clampdown. Good on them. Up until the gag order the
media had been lapping up anything they could find about Boswell
and its inhabitants since it had survived a well aimed ‘asteroid’
landing on it. Now the town and its environs existed in a parallel
universe that only those of an appropriate vibratory frequency
could enter. He’d never met Simon’s mate Tyra but he’d heard she’d
won the local election a while back, becoming mayor of the
municipality of Valeton, a remarkably large rural area which
encompassed Boswell as well as a number of other small towns. Now
it looked like she’d been ditched. No doubt Sakla would have set
his cronies onto a few of the councillors to achieve that. At least
the new mayor, Peter Stein, seemed to have her backing. As he
listened to her outline some of how they would manage in Boswell
now they’d been effectively cut off, he made plans to ensure the
new bloke didn’t get rolled as well. Scratching idly through his
desk drawer he found the business card he was looking for. He
picked up the phone. “Snape and Cockshut? Yeah put me through. Hi
Alicia. Its Polemarch here. I have a job for you and your business
partner.

In his office Sakla was watching the same
damned video clip and fuming. All his efforts to cut Boswell off
from its lifelines to the outside world seemed to have backfired.
He’d thrown down the gauntlet and all that had happened was they
had ignored him. Not only that, but his efforts to put a stop to
that annoying female’s silly ideas on the council had been rolled
as well. The new mayor who he’d thought, up until now, was one
their allies, was just as gung ho to ease the building requirements
and permit costs for private and owner builders. Allowing for
innovative and energy efficient design he said. Balancing the needs
of environment and community he said. After all Sakla had done to
ensure that costs, regulations and legislation put construction out
of the reach of all but his globally owned businesses. And this was
getting news coverage? Sheesh. If it got out on social media and
the idea spread, which was already happening...Sakla could see
diminishing profit margins before his eyes. How did he fight this?
He picked up his phone and rang his marketing manager. “What’s the
name of that big social media company we have shares in? G’day or
something? Yeah that’s it. Lean on them to tweak their algorithm to
hide any posts about Boswell or Valeton would you? Good man. Seems
you can keep your entrails this week.” What he really needed to do
now was to get some people on the ground there. He might not be
able to get anyone into Boswell but he could damned well get them
close enough to keep an eye on their coming and goings. The sooner
Polemarch got his new base setup the better. He’d send him off
tomorrow to oversee it. The fact that he couldn’t control him
anymore by threatening to kill him still peeved him. Time to get
him out of his sight.

Sathi had spent all morning checking
Sheila’s accounts for the fetish club where they both worked.
Sheila was nominally the boss as she had a big share in the club
but she was well aware of Sathi’s knowledge and skills, leaving her
the run of the business when it came to administration. After a
long morning of anally checking and double-checking the books Sathi
had decided they were in order. A summary was ready to go to their
tax agent. Hopefully the depreciation tables she had prepared and
her categorisation of the expense items would help minimise the tax
the club would need to pay. Her tea long cold, she chose instead to
lean back and close her eyes for a moment. A bit of “shuteye”
Sheila would call it and well earned too. Her mind drifted to
things of the past.

Sathi trembled slightly as she braced
herself then knocked on the captain’s door.

“
Enter.”

Steeling herself she reminded herself
of what guru had told her. She wasn’t giving her soul to this man,
only her body. She was still uncomfortable with it but had made a
kind of peace with that discomfort. After all she had no real
choice. This was what life had thrown her. She could become a
victim of it or its master...um make that mistress.
Worship the divine in the captain. Make him feel
he is the only man that matters.
Her guru’s words of
wisdom continued to play through her mind as she entered the room.
She gently closed the door then, following her honed intuition, she
knelt in abeyance.

“
You wear too many clothes slave.
Undress for me.”

Slave girl was it. She could play with that
scenario then. It was part of the repertoire guru had taught her.
Feigning the shyness of said slave girl she demurely yet somehow
also seductively shed her garments one piece at a time, letting
them fall from her body. She knelt again, making sure to spread her
legs enough to give him a tantalizing view. She place her hands on
her thighs and kept her gaze focused at the ground, awaiting his
instruction. Her peripheral vision watched him as he made a circuit
of her. He’d done that too when she’d first boarded the ship. Being
in a position to evaluate was important to him. She filed that away
with everything else she knew about him. Know the client, guru had
said. She had little to go on but even from just that she knew he
enjoyed the power of his position and expected those under his
command to obey him without question. So she took refuge in the
stillness of her pose and held her tongue. A large warm hand
stroked her jaw and lifted her chin.

“
You have permission to look at me
slave. Come, the galley has sent up my meal. I wish to share it
with you.”

Sathi looked up and let her awareness take
in the whole of the room. A small table had been prepared, complete
with lace table cloth, silver cutlery, white ware and several
covered dishes. There was only one chair. She waited until he was
seated and then nestled at his feet.

Captain gently stroked her head, surprising
her. “Your teacher has done well with you. You almost make me
believe you are my long term pet and that we have been in this
relationship for years.”

Sathi smiled tentatively as a slave girl
might and nodded her thanks. She hadn’t been given permission to
speak but she used her eyes to let him know his praise was welcome.
The role required it. At least he wasn’t throwing her out of his
cabin in disgust. She waited patiently at his feet, watching him
serve himself and eat, occasionally holding out a fork before her
mouth which she accepted with grace. The food wasn’t to her taste
but she wouldn’t let that show.

When he decided he’d had enough he covered
the dishes and rose from his chair.

What next she wondered. A barely noticeable
shiver of suppressed anxiety danced down her spine.

“
I could do with a wash slave, come
and bathe me.” He nodded towards the small ensuite.

Once in the bathroom she undressed him,
folding his clothes and placing them in a neat pile on top of the
room’s only shelf. She figured a captain would want neatness even
if the clothes were dirty. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, if
the semblance of a smile that briefly creased his weathered face
was anything to go by. She followed him into the close quarter
shower cubicle that barely gave them both enough room to stand.
Taking the offered washcloth and soap she began to wash his back.
Listening to the occasional deep groan or sigh gave her cues to
parts he found most pleasurable.

There was no room in the shower bay for
kneeling so instead she decided to kiss his back. His back arched
in response.

“
Hmm, yes please.”

But he didn’t let her continue long, perhaps
fearing the hot water would run out. She didn’t think she had
displeased him. A moment’s fear clenched her gut but she met it
face on with the knowledge that she had done nothing amiss so
far.

She found herself actually enjoying this
part of the role play. There was a certain satisfaction in drying
the captain with the crisp clean bath sheet. She gave the task her
focused attention, making sure she missed not one part of his
gnarly lean body. She guessed he must be in his sixties. She hadn’t
thought much about his age before. She caressed the occasional scar
she found, almost wishing she could heal the rough life he’d
obviously had. A life that had undoubtedly made him into the man he
now was.

“
Dry yourself and come out and join
me.”

Sathi complied and then neatly hung up
the towels. Taking a deep breath she centered herself, not exactly
knowing what was about to be expected of her but knowing she’d
better deliver.
He’s just a
man
, she reminded herself.
Forget the power he has over you and treat him as the lover
he needs.