G.B. Chapter I
Guderian's hands trembled as rust-red Ninkilim filled the Condesa's navigation holoport, the vague outlines of the planet's many domes promising nothing but a trap.
"The Uncouth must leave, Kagula." It was his XO, Lisa Kovransky. She was standing by the bridge's main doors, golden-brown hair tied up in a knot at the top of her head. Hazel eyes radiated beauty, the tired wrinkling of the skin around them revealed experiences best left stored away. Hands clasped behind her back and feet spread apart, her authority was undeniable. It was her recognition of Guderian as Kagula that made him such, after all. The fact did not bother Guderian. It was the way among the Star Runners. He smiled to himself. She would be a good commander one day. Indeed, Lisa would reach new moons that the he never had the potential for.
"Hm?" He turned his head ever so slightly. "Ah. Yes." The Uncouth. Guderian had forgotten about them. He couldn't remember last night, let alone those involved in it. Traces of pulma still flowed through his blood, albeit much too faintly to satisfy his thirst. He lightly wet his lips, suppressing a depressed craving. Turning back towards the holoport, he sighed.
"Mr. Banks?" For a moment, Lisa's voice turned as sweet as a strawberry shortcake.
"Right," Guderian said, clearing his mind with a shake of the head. "I trust that you, Ms. Kovransky, are more than capable of escorting them to our shuttle-port." His ice blue eyes never parted with the screen in front of him. Ninkilim was dominant now, the thick polymer domes now revealing the blurry image of buildings beneath them. Not buildings, complexes; the billions of people inside of them packed as tightly as an unchartered inter-system colony ship. Not people, rats.
"It is not my place to bid the honor of a farewell to The Uncouth, Kagula." A sweet voice, but firm — like an about-to-ripen fruit.
"Traditions," Guderian replied. "How such stupidities have survived the history of man thus far is far beyond my understanding. Did you know, Ms. Kovransky, that scholars believe that our ancestors prior to the Resetting prosecuted whores and their kind for centuries, perhaps millennia? Now, we worship them as deities. How society made the transition has never ceased to amazed me." He paused to turn and face Lisa, his cold, penetrating blue gaze landing on her eyes.
"It is not so difficult to explain." She stopped just short of him, her glide coming to an elegant end. "There are people who reject our customs, after all. They are simply primitive. They are baraquts." Baraquts. Barbarians. These were colonists at the end of, or outside, the system. The farther away from Nammu the colonies were located, the greater the technology and cultural gap between the mother cities and their children. "We all have roots in the Baraquts, Kagula. Some of us have simply...evolved." Her voice suddenly grew stern. "The Uncouth have been made to wait too long. You must attend to them and bid them the honor of a farewell. Come, I will take you to Masaanwal. Come, come," she said, when Lisa grabbed him by the arm and started to pull him away towards the doors.
"Perhaps." He hesitated, and wiggled his arm free. "Still, your argument seems unnecessarily...narrow in perspective." There was a second long pause. "I suppose you are right, in any case." He nodded towards the doors and ordered, "Lead me to our guests, Ms. Kovransky. Hurry, lest we waste so much time that they have no choice but to accompany us to Ninkilim. Which, thinking about it, wouldn't be a bad thing." He laughed, "Not a bad thing, at all."
The XO led Guderian down a long hall that split the ship in half. To either side were periodic doors that led to rooms of various kinds and every-so-often a hatch would open, then close behind them, as they walked from one compartment of the Condesa to the next. Built for stealth and agility, Guderian's ship was long, narrow, and cramped. There wasn't much space between their own heads and the bulkheads as they continued to make their way to the end of main passageway. But, to them, there was a certain coziness to it all. The Condesa was home. A sudden rush of melancholy swept over Guderian, perhaps sadness, perhaps nostalgia, perhaps the drugs.
They finally arrived at a wide set of doors and a little sensor on the frame made a buzz, scanned the XO's eyes, and slid the doors open for them.
Inside, a line of eight chained-up boys was headed by an older woman whose beauty years were now long behind her. The boys, completely nude apart from the shackles around their ankles, stood with shoulders hunched over, their presence reeking of humiliation. Eyes looking at the floor below them, heads drooped down, they chanted an indistinguishable prayer in unison. Some of them even moved their feet in a sad dance; perhaps they may have looked more lively without the heavy, metal anklets holding them down. Guderian did not feel bad for them. Pleasure's Children were not Fated with happy lives. Born slaves, they lived slaves, their bodies made open to the public for the celebration of Pleasure herself.
Behind the entourage stood an older man, eyes bleach white from blindness. He was garbed from shoulders to toes by a pale-brown robe of overlapping layers and he stood supported by a tall, handsomely carved wooden staff. Long, white hair draped down to his shoulders, the man stood silently.
Guderian did not afford a glance at any of them, nor did the XO. The Uncouth were not there to be looked at. On the sides of the room, its floor, on table tops and bookcases, were what seemed like hundreds of dimly lit candles, the light from their flames making a pretty dance along the walls. Against the back wall was a low platform, on which there was quite the garden of flowers, ferns, and other plants, which decorated a shrine encasing Pleasure's Staff. Several incense pyres burned throughout the room, but the sweet smell of cinnamon and eucalyptus was overwhelmed by the room's acute stench of last night's sweat.
"We must be on our way now," said the woman.
"Mother Masaanwal, before you leave, I ask if you will honor me by allowing a Farewell," requested Guderian. He bent his neck and brought his head down, almost as if entering a prayer. Next to him, Lisa did the same.
"You may, Faithful Servant," she cordially replied. Masaanwal may not have been very pretty, but her sheer elegance was undeniable. Tall and thin, like someone born on one of the many moons of Sin, her dark black hair lay straight back down below her shoulders. Robes covered her body down to her ankles, although it did not leave much to the imagination as far as her ample bosom was concerned. A braid went around her head like a crown and her big, brown eyes were fitting of a gorgeous princess. Back straight, head held high, Masaanwal may as well have been one.
Lisa and Guderian chanted in unison. "Be well, Mother Pleasure born of Utu. Your sacrifice gives reason to my vice, and I ask for no other honor but to be born a slave to Pleasure in my next life." As they spoke, Masaanwal made her way around the room, lighting more incense and urging The Uncouth to chant more ferociously. In the back, one whipped back his head and closed his eyes, hollowing lailailailai in high pitch while the Kagula and his XO continued. Their prayer began to match the rhythm of the chant. "Your sweet nectar we celebrate, your struggle we remember. To Pleasure we remain faithful eternal. To Pleasure we dedicate our lives. May Fate grant your Slaves safe passage across the vacuum of time." Guderian, Lisa, and The Uncouth's chants came to a simultaneous stop and the lights flickered eerily. Fate had sanctioned their prayer.
Masaanwal gently nodded her head, "Pleasure has heard your words, Faithful Servant."
"Thank you," said the Kagula. "Now, allow me to escort you to your shuttle, Mother Masaanwal."
He flashed a look at the XO, who nodded. She stayed behind as Guderian, Masaanwal, and the chained group of boys slowly made their way out of the room and down the passageway. The blind man stopped in front of the XO and they talked, although by then Guderian had turned the corner and could no longer see or hear them. She was merely paying the man the necessary tribute. Requesting a visit from The Uncouth was an expensive affair, but Guderian's crew deserved a genuine distraction before they faced the flames of Ninkilim. He himself had dined with Pleasure last night. The pulma still pulsated in him. He licked his lips again.
"Perhaps Pleasure will bestow me with more...uh...spice?" Guderian asked, keeping his voice low.
Masaanwal gave a polite laugh and responded, "Don't be a fool, Faithful Servant. Just as you cannot spare me any of that precious cargo of yours."
"Of course, Mother Masaanwal." He grimaced internally. Some Mothers were not shy to do away with some of Pleasure's Nectar, for a small price. Not this one. No matter, thought Guderian, he would simply have to acquire it by some other means. It would be more expensive, but Guderian could not put a price on pulma.
They made the rest of the trip to the shuttle-port in silence, except for the chants of The Uncouth walking behind them. Their shackles clanked in harmonious rhythm and, in the back, the blind man carried a large box of lit incense, the scent of which helped to cover the scent of The Uncouth. When they arrived at the shuttle-port, Heinz, Marcosan, and Douglas were there putting the finishing touches on the shuttle preparation routine. The loading ramp was already down, ready for boarding, and the procession simply continued until they had all walked up the ramp and into the spacecraft. Guderian stayed behind, by the entry way, with his XO standing beside him. As they finished their work, Heinz, Marcosan, and Douglas fell in behind them, watching as The Uncouth's shuttle lifted its ramp and sealed itself for take-off. It was too soon when they departed and Guderian was swept by a wave of depression.
The five of them stood there in continued silence for some time, Guderian — and most likely the rest of them, as well — still overcoming an overwhelming sadness.
Finally, Guderian spoke. "Ms. Kovransky, our distance to Ninkilim."
"Just over four hundred thousand kilometers, Kagula."
"Pleasure has abandoned us to War," he responded. "You will all be at your stations by four-before-midcycle."
"Aye, Kagula," they all replied together. With that, they dispersed back to their quarters, where they would all take a high-pressure cleaning. With the incense being slowly replaced by the air recyclers and the pores of their skin releasing the acidic smell of last night's ceremonies, it might have even been worthwhile to afford two cleanings. Guderian, at any rate, was planning to take his time. The trip into Ninkilim was always a harrowing one; a journey like this was always best made with calm nerves.
Before Marcosan could leave, Guderian softly grabbed her arm to pull her aside. "Rig the ship for silent running. Do this now, before going to your room."
"Aye, Kagula," she said in return. With that, Gabriela faithfully about-faced and briskly walked down the main passageway to the bridge.
Guderian looked after Marcosan, Pleasure allowing him one more bout of lust, as her mesmerizing hips swayed side to side in those tight, black flight pants. He suddenly jolted his head away, growling self-disgust under his breath, and quickly stepped to his quarters. Desire had no place here any longer. Ninkilim awaited, and Ninkilim always demanded the full attention of its victims.
