Chapter Seventeen
Second Fiddle
“Darling!” Uno declared in a voice that would have sounded warm to those who did not know her nature.
“Mother dear,” Lancar replied, looking like a vision of her mother twenty years ago.
Close behind followed Lancart’s husband, Edhal, another bipene with curly blond hair. Edhal bowed graciously to the queen, who managed a small smile towards him before continuing the conversation with her daughter.
“Come through,” Uno ushered them into the formal parlour, a grand room with a wooden floor barely visible under the black and gold rug patterned with circles.
“Talia, how are you?” the elder sister asked.
Talia sat by the large, leaded window in a regal chair looking dreamily at the gardens. “Quite well,” she murmured.
“I am sorry for what happened with the bipene,” Lancart said, unaware of the deep cut her careless words caused upon her husband’s ears and heart.
“No matter,” Talia replied, still not making eye contact.
“Look at her,” Uno shook her head. “That boy was made for her, the ungrateful being. She could have been happy.”
“Not just that, Mother. He should have fulfilled his life’s destiny.”
“Exactly, Lancart, you understand. Well, this is a hard time for Talia.”
“Of course,” Lancart nodded and took a cup of tea from the new maid. “Father mentioned you have begun a search?”
“Yes,” Uno smiled, very pleased with herself. “I found this place called Star Fighters Mercenaries. For quite a fee, they have agreed to find him and bring him back here.”
“Whatever will you do with him, Mother dear?” Lancart asked.
Uno laughed, “Whatever I please, dear. I have not quite decided yet whether he will still make a suitable husband or whether I will punish him with his life.”
Lancart shook her head, embracing the power her position graced her with. “A terrible situation, surely. At least there have been no whispers in the villages.”
“Yet. Tongues will surely wag eventually. It’s certainly a shame that gossiping isn’t punishable by death also.”Uno did not joke.
Without warning, Talia got up from her chair and pushed past them both, gliding away like a ghost. She walked past Edhal as though he were not there, sitting a way off on a small sofa, without tea. Edhal generously pitied Talia. She also had no life. Tradition had a stranglehold on them all, upon all of those who did not fit in with Irellan patterns, upon all of those who had the misfortune to feel.
Chapter Eighteen
Explosion
Although she knew she was there for a rather ugly purpose, Brandana could not help but take a moment to stand and just simply look around. From her vantage position so high on the rooftop, the ragged remains of Populus looked mysteriously beautiful. All the sandy stone colours blended together making the destruction less obvious from so far away. Dusty rays from the early morning sun softened the landscape and caused it to glow with warmth that understated the searing heat that had started to rise. From that height, the groups of people appeared so small that they were harmless, understating the maniacal nature of the majority. No time to rest, Brandana took the bomb from her rucksack and knelt by the brass skeleton of what used to be a beautiful glass dome on top of the Ratt Pirate building.
Down below, an area had been cleared in what used to be the library, all the books having been burnt years ago. From what she could see, the sturdy bookshelves had been the saving grace of that room and had stopped the roof from caving in completely. Although unsafe, obvious even from that distance, a table had been dusted off and around it sat twelve of the highest ranking Ratt Pirates. Each of them wore the black uniform with skulls made out of jet on the pockets. One had an eye patch. Another had a robotic claw for a hand. Obviously a room filled with battle- worn men.
A deep wave of hatred, embittered by the years and sad stories of the ravages of war told around rebel campfires, Brandana set the detonator for fifteen seconds. Before she initiated the sequence, she checked her escape route and shook her head. This was probably the stupidest thing she had ever done. She pictured her brother, thankfully safe up in his ship, her mother, and then the image of Devon formed, a mental picture which made her melt inside. When she thought of him, she thought of love and of peace. This was no time for either wonderful emotion.
Brandana flared her nostrils and cleared her mind. Pushing the button to begin the countdown sequence, she armed the bomb and dropped it onto the table below. As much as she would have liked to revel in the looks of surprise and terror upon the Ratt Pirates’ faces, if she wanted to live, she had to go.
Using every fibre of muscle in her thighs and shoulders, Brandana sprinted like an Olympic athlete and grabbed the rope which she had untied from the grappling hook. Wrapping it around her wrists and hands as she belted along, Brandana reached the edge of the building and jumped.
Even in mid-air, her legs were still running. Tighter and tighter she wrapped the rope around her wrist as she felt the nauseating dropping sensation in her stomach. With a twang, the rope tightened. Brandana cried out as her wrist snapped in the gnarly clutch of the rope. As she yelled, the sound of her voice was drowned by the almighty explosion of the Ratt Pirate building which crumbled in a cloud of thick, acrid, grey smoke.
Her body slammed against the rough stone exterior of the derelict home where she had hidden earlier. As her feet slid against the walls, she began to climb, detritus from the exploded Ratt Pirate building hitting her like bee stings all over her body and head.
At last, Brandana was back by the small window from where she had spied to begin her mission. Something in her mind made her look back and smile. Frantic Ratt Pirates ran everywhere. She was too high up and too quick for them. She also had a loyal ally. A rope dropped down. Hans’ ship was hovering above. Another rope was all Brandana needed. Her right wrist ached incredibly and there was no way it had the strength to support her weight again. She latched on with her left hand, not her strongest, but it was her last hope.
Hans was in the doorway, hauling at the rope, aware that she was hurt, his shoulder muscles burning with lactic acid but yet he would not stop. Not until she was safely at his feet, dragged inside, and he could whisk them away before other ships were sent to destroy them.
He hauled his sister into the craft and ran to the cockpit. Throwing himself urgently into the pilot’s seat, Hans rocketed out of Populus’s orbit before any Ratt Pirate ship had a chance to lock onto their whereabouts. As he soared away at warp speed, Brandana sat on the floor by the closed hatch, nursing her aching wrist.
Chapter Nineteen
History Repeats Itself
Another day, another dollar for Devon, whose reputation as a most excellent masseur was spreading like wildfire throughout the hotel and onto other planets where satisfied holidaymakers had returned. But something had changed. Devon was unhappy. Yes, it had been fun at first, feeling worthwhile, sexy, in demand, but Devon slowly began to realise that he had fallen into the exact same trap. He had become nothing but a doll; a plaything for the rich and horny. He might have been in demand, but it was only for his sexual services. Not one of his clients wanted to talk to him about life, the state of the universe or anything spiritual. All they wanted were his hands, his tongue, his professional cock and his hot oil. Nothing more.
Late that morning, Devon escorted his first client into his area, offering her some space to undress. Pippa was fairly tall with short, fluffy white hair and carried a small dog, which looked exactly like her, under her bony arm. It yipped at Devon and snarled whenever he came close. Pippa oozed cash. Everything about her spoke volumes about her expensive education, lazy days and indulgent lifestyle; her well formed vowels, the immaculately manicured nails and succulent skin. Another bored rich woman with too much time to decide that her life was boring.
As she undressed, Devon prepared the bed with fresh towels and spritzed the air with oxygen. From the dressing area, she began to voice her demands.
“I want the special massage,” Pippa began with wonderful elocution. “You know, I heard from my friend that you give something extra to certain clientele.”
Gritting his teeth, Devon decided enough was enough. There would be no more special massages. They were special enough as they stood. He had been trained for years and could make a woman melt just by the application of soft pressure in certain, secret places. Pippa might not get what she wanted but Devon was sure she would go away satisfied.
He began by softly kneading her back, using the special pressure at the base of her back, on the tiny spots known only to a few and he felt her begin to liquefy under his touch. She murmured happily as he worked delicately across her ribs. However, as Devon slid his fingers underneath her sides, Pippa lifted her body so that he was touching the doughy flesh of her breasts and every so often, catching the stub of her nipples.
Devon bridled. He did not want this anymore. He knew he had created a rod for his own back, so tried to be patient. He pulled his hands away and continued working higher up her back in a safe area.
Pippa turned over, all aglow, looking like a pretty sprite in the soft lighting and with the relaxing woodland music which played unobtrusively in the background, but he did not put his hands upon her nor kiss the soft, magenta pink lips which pouted provocatively at him.
“I think I’m ready for more,” she sighed in a feline manner, stretching out in anticipation of the hot, oiled rod she would soon be receiving.
“I’m sorry.” Devon smiled and stepped politely back a pace. “Those services are no longer available.”
“What? I’ve been misinformed, have I?”
“I’m afraid so. If you would like to turn over, I can continue to work on your solar plexus.”
“You will not! What’s the matter? Am I unattractive to you?”
“Not at all.”
“Well then! I want you to get on this table and slip that sweet thing inside me. You won’t regret it. Besides, it’s the only reason I’m here.”
“I do apologise, but I will regret it. I used to offer those services but I can’t anymore. I just can’t.”
Pippa bridled angrily. “Does your boss know about your extra services?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then I suggest you must have sex with me or at least give me an orgasm of some sort or I will walk out there and tell her exactly what’s been going on behind this door.”
Devon said in hushed tones, “Please, madam, try to understand me. I want to do better for myself. I’m more than this. I don’t want to earn my living by having sex with strangers.”
“Then you should not have started! Stop when you like, but not with me. I shall be your last. I’ve been waiting for this appointment almost all week and I’m not about to leave without satisfaction. I suggest you don’t go back on our little contract. I have very powerful lawyers.”
Devon opened the door for her to leave. “I’m sorry.”
Soon after Pippa had hastily dressed and dragged her fluffy duster of a dog along the slippery floor, Devon knew that his boss would be visiting with an incredibly angry face and stinging words. All happened as he foresaw. Devon was ordered by Margo to pack his belongings and leave Botanica. Of course, his boss had been well aware of his extra special services, they had indeed made her quite rich this season. What she was most unhappy about was Devon’s withdrawal of the services, particularly before she herself had the chance to sample them as they did come very highly recommended.
Although obviously upset that he no longer had a job or a place to live, Devon felt happy deep down. For the second time in a short space, he had stood up for what he believed in, his own dignity. For the second time, his decision had caused him immense difficulties but neither of these decisions would he take back or regret. With only a small cloth bag containing his worldly possessions; toothbrush, paste, hairbrush and two clean sarongs, Devon walked down the impressive entrance to Botanica and out towards the sea.
The shore offered him safety, the sea offered him peace, and the gulls offered him companionship. Devon kicked off his sandals and, as soon as his feet sunk into the powdery granules of hot sand, he felt at peace. What the future held, where he would go now, was all a mystery. However, for the meantime, Devon was content to sit on the sand just watching the eternal ebb and flow of the crashing spume of clear blue waves, listening to their simple song, watching for dolphins, entranced by the hypnotic silver sparkles, all alone.
After an hour, a single memory made Devon feel too much alone. Under the clouds, on a quiet beach, he felt quite forgotten by the rest of the universe. In his fist, he let a slow train of sand fall away and relived the memory of what had been up to now, his most beautiful experience; Brandana writhing on top of him, her white hair spilling onto his bare thighs with an erotic tickle, the tightness of her, the closeness of their breath.