Psoas nodded uneasily.
“Point taken. But what are you going to do?”
“Go find her—if I can.” Need felt a surge of despair. “At least I know they haven’t left Genu Six.”
“True,” Psoas said doubtfully. “Better to search a single planet than the entire galaxy, I suppose.”
“Drung took one of the short-range shuttles as part of his pay.” Captain Glo’ll appeared suddenly, his eyes glowing with concern. “So he can’t have gotten too far from his original destination. Go and find Lan’ara, First Mate Needrix —The Dark Star isn’t the same without her.”
Need nodded grimly.
“I’ll just have to try and find where Drung took her and hope I get to her before…” He swallowed hard, trying not to choke. “Before it’s too late.”
Fifty-Three
Lan’ara had begged the Senator not to sell her to Drung.
“Wait, please!” she’d cried as the secretary led her towards the waiting Trollox. “Please don’t send me with him! I can pay! I can pay off my own price—I swear I can—only don’t sell me to him!”
“You can, can you?” The Senator looked up in sudden interest. “I had no idea you were independently wealthy, my dear.”
“Well, I’m not—not exactly,” Lan’ara admitted. “But I can work for you—all my life if necessary,” she added quickly. “I’d be happy to sign a contract to that effect! I can clean or work in your kitchen—I’m a really good cook! Everyone loves my food, I promise you, Senator. Only please don’t sell me to the Trollox!”
He frowned, apparently irritated by her plea.
“Please, my dear—at my age, I don’t have time to wait for you to work off your debt! Besides, I don’t want to be reminded of our little ‘incident’ every time I see you. No, it’s best if you go with the male who’s willing to pay your debt right away with no waiting.”
“But he’s a Trollox! You don’t know what he wants to do to me!” Lan’ara was so frightened she felt like her heart was beating in her throat, making it hard to get the words out.
“Why, I’ll make a lovely home for her, of course.” It was Drung’s left head that was speaking—the one who usually looked stupid and drooled all the time. Now, however, it was alert and articulate—what had happened to it?
“You see, my dear—he means you no harm.” the Senator waved a hand dismissively. “Now run along. It’s a pity you were tainted—I would have liked to keep you for myself. But that’s the way these things go sometimes.”
“These things?” Lan’ara demanded. Suddenly it was as though something broke inside her. All her life she’d been bowing and scraping to men like this—men who ran her world and decided her fate while she had no say herself. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right and Lan’ara was angry about it. She could feel her terror turning to fury.
“You’re talking about my life,” she snapped at the pompous Senator. “You’re about to give me to a male who plans to rape me and make me bear his child. But, come to think of it, that’s exactly what you were planning to do, too—so what do you care, right?”
She couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth—it was almost like someone else had taken over her tongue and was speaking for her. But she was suddenly so tired of being someone else’s property—of being owned and used and treated like a thing instead of a person!
Her little speech, however, was ill timed—it only served to make Senator Pouncenblast angry.
“That will be enough of that, young lady,” he snapped, glaring at her. “I have never raped anyone! Every one of my brides is a willing participant in our love-making.”
“How would you know if they’re willing or not?” Lan’ara demanded. “You own them. If they don’t please you by pretending you’re a wonderful lover, you’ll get rid of them—just like you’re getting rid of me! I bet every one of them fakes her pleasure with you every time you take her—my Lord.”
Senator Pouncenblast’s face went white and then red. It was clear he had never considered things in this light before and he wasn’t enjoying the new point of view at all.
“Enough!” he snapped again. “I will not be spoken to in this manner by a mere female. Take her away!”
“Of course, my Lord Senator. Such impudence cannot be sanctioned!” the fish-faced secretary exclaimed. Clapping his hands, he turned to Drung. “You heard the Senator. Get her out of here—now.”
Lan’ara had tried to dodge away but the huge Trollox caught her by one arm before she could run more than three feet.
“I’ll take her where she cannot insult you anymore, Senator,” the left head said smoothly. And then he had dragged Lan’ara—kicking and screaming—out of the palace and into his ship.
Now she sat strapped into the passenger seat, her head turned to one side so she didn’t have to see her disgusting captor. She could still smell him, though—a rancid odor of unwashed flesh mixed with the lingering smell of rotting food. And of course, all three of his heads had terrible breath.