Chapter 10 — RAPE

Rue behaved like a confined jaguar on the trip back. She remained hostile but seemed to accept her fate. I did not try to talk to her, though I was highly conscious of her presence. Yet again I wondered: Why had her father put her into my hands? He had to be aware of the effect she had on me, for he was a shrewd judge of character and she was a figure to dazzle any man. The Solomons had not had to surrender; that had come entirely too readily, though I knew it was genuine. The Fiji threat had been only a pretext to justify an action I now realized Straight had contemplated from the outset. It was almost as if he were collaborating with my staff to unify our forces. But his daughter was irrelevant to that.

We connected with the Sawfish. My sister met us just inside the lock. For a moment the two women studied each other, Roulette's gaze flicking down to Spirit's four-fingered left hand. I knew she was thinking of what I had told her about Spirit's experience with pirates, and the vengeance she had taken against them. And, before a word was spoken, Roulette's attitude modified subtly. She might hate me, but she did not hate Spirit.

"This is Roulette—our hostage for the Solomons' surrender," I said somewhat lamely.

Spirit didn't even seem surprised. "I recognized the figure. I'll see her to a cabin."

"You knew," I said.

"We thought it likely," she agreed. "We showed Straight our power, and he responded."

"The game is not over yet," Roulette said.

I nodded ruefully—which term may be appropriate in more than one sense. I had served as an ignorant messenger between two maneuvering forces. My staff had sent a message of surrender, and Straight had responded with his daughter as hostage. Move and countermove, neither what it seemed. I felt like a pawn in the middle of the board, watching while one side proffered the sacrifice of a knight and the other countered with the sacrifice of a bishop. The true significance lay not in what was done but in what was declined.

"Arrange for rendezvous with our supply ship and for transfer of food to the Solomons fleet," I said. "Establish liaison for working out the fine print of the surrender. And quickly; the Fijis—"

"I can help," Roulette said. "I know the personnel to contact in our fleet, and what they need."

There was one reason Straight had sent her! Her cooperation would greatly facilitate the process.

Spirit glanced at her appraisingly. "You have practical training?"

"I'm my father's S-3." S-3 is the Operations section, vital.

"At your age?"

Rue smiled. "Pirates aren't subject to Naval regulations. I've been an officer since birth. It's a family corporation."

"We shall test you." Spirit took Rue away with her. I watched them go. I remained amazed at recent developments. I was a virtual spectator of a game of strategy I could not quite comprehend. I saw that Spirit and Roulette understood it, though. I wish I could present what follows in this narrative as a brilliant and successful ploy on my part, but really it wasn't. I was merely a pawn in the guise of a king. Or perhaps I was the king—but in chess, the king is the most restricted and protected of pieces, though he is the focus of the game. My sole power was in the judgment of people and the delegation of power to them. Now they were using that power.

I went to the bridge to discover what was going on in space. The Fiji fleet was bearing down, heedless of the Navy-Solomons negotiations; we were not going to be able to rendezvous with our supply ship, organize our supervision of the Solomons, and establish our pincushion defense on the planetoid before the new enemy arrived.

"We'll vacate the base," Emerald said. "The supplies are more important."

"But we can't set up for battle in space in time," I protested. "The Fijis are in formation, while we're caught in maneuvers."

"Bad luck for us," she said with a smile.

"There's something you're not telling me," I accused her.

She turned a wide-eyed mock-innocent gaze on me. "Why, sir! Don't you trust me? Has any part of me ever been secret from you? I am but the rising moon; you are the sun."

I was annoyed but played along. "Just see that my trust is not misplaced. You supposedly subordinate officers have been very free with my command and career recently."

"We only want what's best for you, sir," she said contritely.

We vacated the planetoid, though I could see that in our haste we had to sacrifice some equipment and precious ammunition that had been in transfer between anchored ships. Reloading in a vacuum is not a rapid thing, because of the limitation of airlocks. Much better to establish temporary pressurized tents on the base. Already the Fijis were gaining booty!

Meanwhile Spirit and Roulette handled the ongoing negotiations with the Solomons. Rue was as good as her word; she knew every officer of their fleet by name, and when she spoke, they jumped. Spirit simply named the ship she wanted to contact, and Rue did the rest.

"This is Roulette, hostage aboard the Navy flagship," she said to the screen as we addressed one ship. "They have food for us, and time is short. Get me Cap'n Snake-eyes on the double." The pirate ship captain appeared in seconds. "Snake-eyes, clear a channel through our fleet for the Navy supply ship, and detach a tug to pick up their pod as they pass. What your ship needs has already been allocated. Then stand by for further orders from this ship. Commander Spirit Hubris will contact you, and you will obey her implicitly."

"Yes, sir," Snake-eyes agreed nervously.

"And relieve Seven-up of command of your forward battery. If that trigger-happy bastard fires one shot during this maneuver, my father will fire a shot at you."

Evidently that threat had meaning, for Snake-eyes blanched.

So it went. Spirit turned her head to look at me behind Rue's head, nodding affirmatively. The pirate wench was testing out competent.

Then Rue herself turned her head and shot me another glare of hate. I turned away, ashamed of myself for not being able to face her down. She was doing the job her father had dictated; none of this was for my pleasure.

What was it about her that so unmanned me? She was a striking figure of a woman, true—but so were others I had known, if to lesser degrees. Mere physical appearance was not overwhelmingly important to me. She was young; but again, I could have youth in the Officers' Tail anytime I felt the inclination, and generally I preferred to associate with women my own age. She was fiery, but so was Emerald; there was no longer much novelty in that. "Forbidden fruit, sir."

I jumped. I was in the passage, and Juana was coming up behind me, evidently on some mission for another officer. She was my secretary but had become common property in this crisis. "What?"

"She's a pirate wench, sir. You're a Navy officer. You always did prefer forbidden fruit. You know you can't have her, so you want her. It's perfectly natural."

She was surely correct. I was having difficulty perceiving such things for myself because my own emotion was involved, nullifying much of my objectivity. As I gazed at Juana, the melody of her song passed through my mind. O don't deceive me, O never leave me, how could you use a poor maiden so? A lovely and sad refrain, of love no longer requited. Juana had a roommate but only to avoid the Tail; she had formed no close attachment since I deserted her by becoming an officer. She knew about the desire for the forbidden.

I glanced about. We were alone for the moment. "Anybody looking?"

"No, sir. We're all pretty busy now."

I grabbed her and kissed her. Juana wasn't even surprised; she knew me of old. She clung to me, showing more passion than she ever had when we were roommates. She remained a marvelous person. I remembered how she had taken me in hand, so to speak, during the drug episode. She did not love sex, but perhaps she loved me.

I drew back. "You're right. Forbidden fruit is best."

Her eyes were moist. "God, I miss you. Sir."

"You could go to Officer's School." If she became an officer, I could room with her again.

She smiled, shifting the mood. "I don't miss you that much!"

I had to laugh. "Thank you."

She started on down the passage. "You're welcome, sir."

I stood and watched her go, experiencing that special poignancy of remembrance. We had seldom been separated in the physical sense; she missed our original camaraderie as equals. Juana and I—we had been the first, for each other, in the Navy fashion, and that private bond would always remain. I had her secretarial competence, her understanding, and her friendship, but as an officer I was in a different world, and there was a certain pain in that.

And she was right. I had perhaps become somewhat jaded over the years, since I could have almost any woman I chose, through channels. The girls of the Officers' Tail were commissioned but never served as officers beyond the Tail; it was an arranged thing, and enlisted women could volunteer for that commission, bypassing Officer's Training. Some tried it for a while, then chose to revert to regular enlisted status. The same was true for enlisted men; if a female officer had a hankering for a sergeant, and he was interested, this was the route.

So I had had a fair variety of women in the Tail but had loved none of them. Love was only for Helse, my dead fiancée. But I could be attracted, and Roulette was indeed the most forbidden of creatures, for I could not truly accept any pirate. Only Spirit's wish and Repro's intercession had enabled me to hire Brinker, right as that decision had turned out to be, because I had known her as a pirate. Sex appeal in a pirate: That did indeed set an internal conflict going. That understanding relieved me; now I could handle my mixed feeling for Rue.

But the mystery of her antipathy to me remained. I intended Rue no harm, and she knew that. Her father had thrown us together, and perhaps she had cause to resent that, but I would hardly force my attentions on her. Yet she acted as if I offended her in some unforgivable manner. As if my mere existence was an affront to her.

I shrugged and moved on. All would come clear in due course. Meanwhile we had a maneuver to complete.

We completed it, getting clear of the base and conveying pods of food to the hungry pirates and restocking our own supplies of fuel and ammunition. But the Fijis, perceiving that we were not after all locked in battle with the Solomons, hesitated, then pounced on our abandoned planetoid base. Now they could scavenge among our leavings, and with their pincushion defense, we would not be able to touch them once we got our fighting formation back in order.

"Call them, sir," Spirit told me. "Give the Fijis an ultimatum of immediate surrender—or destruction."

"But that would be foolish!" I protested. "We have no—"

"Or delegate someone to do it."

"But—"

"Roulette, maybe. She'll enjoy this."

I spread my hands. "You delegate it."

She smiled knowingly. "Rue, would you like to deliver the Navy's ultimatum to the Fijis?"

Roulette came over to the screen. "I hate the Fijis almost as bad as I hate the Navy. But a bluff's no good. They're smugglers, and lying is their pride. Bloodstone would laugh in my face."

"Is there any redeeming quality about the Fiji?" Spirit inquired.

"You ask a pirate that? No, the colonists and settlers are decent, but Bloodstone's a brute. We Solomons are in business and we honor our given word, but the Fiji pirates honor nothing but power. They don't kill for victory, they kill for pleasure—an inch at a time. They captured one of our parties once, and sent us back their hands, one finger at a time, each one flayed. Our biolab said the skin had been pulled off while the fingers were still attached and alive."

I stiffened, and so did Spirit. Slowly, Spirit raised her left hand, showing her missing finger. "We have met that kind," she said. "The Horse didn't flay my flesh, though."

"I noticed. But you settled the score." Roulette settled herself before the screen. "Is this a bluff?"

"No," Spirit said.

"Then I'll do it." She went to work, and in a moment she was in touch with the Fiji operator. "Get me Bloodstone," she snapped imperiously.

"Who the hell wants Bloodstone?" the man demanded.

"Roulette."

Another face came on: grizzled, grim, with earrings in the classic pirate style. "What you want, you luscious tart?"

"Surrender this instant, or be destroyed."

Bloodstone bellowed out his laughter. "Listen, you juvenile slut, when I clean up Straight's mess I'll screw you to the damn bulkhead. You never had a real man before."

"I never had a man at all," she responded. "Only with my knife."

"Yeah, I heard. You don't rate a knife with me. I'll cut your tongue out before I take you; then each of my men'll take a finger or toe as a memento when they have you. After that we'll get serious. So powder up your plush a—"

"You have one minute to surrender to the Jupiter Navy," Roulette said evenly.

Bloodstone laughed again. "The Jupe Navy! Go stick it up your puckered, rosy red—"

"Thirty seconds."

"God, I'll enjoy plunging you, wench! Right before I plug your ma and bugger your—"

"You won't surrender?"

Bloodstone just laughed coarsely, making obscene gestures with his hands.

The minute finished. Spirit signaled a technician.

The planetoid exploded.

I gaped. "What?"

"We mined it," Spirit said. "We had expected the Solomons to take it over, but after the surrender, this seemed better."

Roulette watched the expanding ring of debris in the screen. "Beautiful," she murmured, licking her red lips. "You really don't bluff, do you!"

"No," Spirit agreed.

I was horrified. "But the whole fleet—"

"They aren't all dead, of course," Spirit said. "You don't kill ships simply by propelling them through space. We'll have to round them up and administer first aid."

Rue snorted, a sound that surprised me. "Some first aid! Their casualties will be thirty percent, and the rest you'll be able to lead about by the hand."

"But better than the carnage of a battle," Spirit said.

"I'd have chosen battle," Roulette said. "But it was a nice ploy. My father wouldn't have fallen for it, but Bloodstone's a sucker. Look, before I get locked up, may I meet your strategist?"

"This way," Spirit said, leading her toward Emerald's site. I could see that Rue had developed quick respect and even some awe of my sister.

It followed as Spirit had said: We chased down the semiderelict Fiji ships and made them captive without resistance. Bloodstone was dead, one of the unlucky percentage, though perhaps it made no difference, since we would have executed him, anyway.

We put the survivors on trial. We lacked time or facilities for a full-blown legal process, but we were as fair as was feasible in military doctrine. Each pirate was interviewed separately by a legal specialist from Spirit's S-1 Adjutant staff, since that was concerned with personnel, and allowed to present his case before the panel of judges with the help of the specialist. This process can take months or years in the civilian society; it was jammed into days or even hours here, very much the assembly line. But we did try to be fair as we performed our triage. The established criminals were summarily executed; Spirit supervised that aspect, as it was a function of her office and I lacked the stomach for it despite my hatred of piracy. My sister had always been tougher than I was; now it showed. The doubtful cases were put aboard a patched pirate ship and sent home under suspended sentence; if we ever encountered them active in space again, they would be executed without trial. We branded them, literally, for future identification. I suffered a qualm about this, too; in fact, my antipathy toward pirates was suffering some attrition, as it came to the cruel mechanics of implementing it. I realized I had been unrealistic; I had wanted to abolish piracy without actually hurting any pirates. But we were far from Jupiter now, and reality was stern.

The third group of processed pirates concerned me directly. Spirit sent me a number of men who were prospects for induction into the Navy. I discovered I did not like this, either. But Commander Repro braced me on this subject, and he was again correct. We did need to salvage what we could, and that included men as well as equipment. Otherwise we would find ourselves with a number of ships we could not properly man. So I girded myself to these necessary chores of attitude and interviewed the prospects, using my talent to separate the sheep from the goats. The goats were shipped out, unbranded; these were noncriminal pirates. I proffered employment to the sheep, provided they would swear allegiance to the Jupiter Navy. Some would and some would not; we kept the first and shipped the second.

With one exception: Shrapnel. He was a tough, smart man of about my own age, an experienced commander of men. His dossier informed me he had served in the military force of one of the Uranian nations and deserted when lured by the wife of a superior. He had turned her down, and the vengeful female had accused him of what she had tempted him with, forcing him to flee the wrath of the prospective cuckold. Shrapnel was an honest man, forced to piracy by circumstance; there was a price on his head on Uranus, and any legitimate government would have extradited him to Uranus. He had acted with honor, even in the Fiji band, holding his place there because of his competence and the fact that Bloodstone trusted him as a lieutenant. Bloodstone had not liked him but had known Shrapnel would not betray him, which was more than could be said for most Fiji pirates. The men of Shrapnel's command had not raped or pillaged wantonly, in sharp contrast to the Fiji norm. I knew that if Shrapnel swore allegiance to me, he would be an excellent officer. We needed him, for now we had several new ships to fill.

But he would not so swear. The Fijis had been defeated, and Shrapnel had been injured and unconscious when captured, but he had not yielded. He came before me in chains, for he was a powerful man, and versed in martial arts; he had tried to make a break for it as soon as he recovered consciousness.

"I can offer you security for the duration of this campaign," I told him. "I can release you to a region of your choice when we return to Jupiter. All I ask is that you serve me for this campaign."

"I serve Bloodstone," he said firmly.

"Bloodstone is dead."

"Then I serve the current leader of the Fiji."

"The Fiji band has been destroyed."

"Then I serve whatever band takes over the Fiji territory."

I smiled. "That will probably be the Solomons. They have surrendered to us, and we are freeing them provided they no longer oppose us and stay within interplanetary law in all matters except the technicality of gambling. No murders, no raids on innocent ships, just business with voluntary clients."

"Straight has always been that way," Shrapnel said. "If he moves in, I will serve him. But you are the representative of a planetary navy, the kind that honors extradition. I will not serve you."

I sighed. I wanted this man, pirate though he was, but that same quality of honor that made him worthwhile also barred him from the Navy. "Swear, then, that if I free you, you will practice no piracy and will not oppose the Jupiter Navy."

He stood silent, refusing.

"Then I cannot free you," I said regretfully. "You are too competent to set loose. It seems a waste."

"That's war."

I thought of another angle. "Will you accept hostage status and obey the officer's code as a prisoner?"

He considered. This code granted a high-ranking prisoner freedom of person, on his bond not to abuse the privilege. It allowed the prevailing power to treat honorable prisoners as hostages rather than felons. Roulette had that status and was honoring it; she had not been "locked up." It was a considerable convenience for both victor and vanquished.

"Does that permit extradition?"

"No extradition for hostages," I said.

"Then I will accept it."

I turned to Spirit. "Free this man on his own recognizance. Assign him a hammock and an officer's pass for facilities."

She nodded. This was an expedient compromise, and it offered a lot: lodging, meals, courtesy, and use of the Tail.

Even in active war, there are periods of inertia. The processing of pirates, rushed as it was, still took time. Unfortunately, this also gave the other pirate bands a chance to analyze what had happened and to make their plans and build up their forces for defense. The next band we planned to tackle was the Marianas, the strongest in the Belt, the pirates who had taken over the Jupiter base. They dealt in human slavery, and they were absolutely ruthless. They had no intention of being wiped out by my task force. They had three battleships and a good support fleet, and they knew how to use them. The plain fact was that the Marianas were stronger than we were, despite our acquisition of a number of new ships.

About the time this came clear, we suffered another blow. Somehow, someone had pulled a string and gotten our mission reduced in importance. Spirit was first to learn of this. She came to me in such a fury as I had not seen in her since our childhood years. "Those black-hole admirals!" she swore. "They cut off our supplies!"

"They what?" I tend to react somewhat inadequately when surprised, which is one reason I don't enjoy being surprised.

"They couldn't recall our task force, because that would suggest the Jupe Navy was giving up," she explained. "But we haven't performed the way they anticipated—"

"We've been winning, not losing," I filled in.

"Precisely. So they have deleted the authorization for supply convoys on the pretext of cost-cutting. We're supposed to make do with what we have."

"What we have will disappear in the first battle!"

"Which will force us to close shop and come home before we starve, even if we win."

We held a council-of-war staff meeting. All our officers were angry, but it was Emerald who had most positive suggestion. "We can forage from the land. The real Carolines and Solomons and Fijis are not pirates; they are decent, hardworking colonists. We can get what we need from them."

"That sort of thing alienates the populace," Mondy warned. "We can't afford to act like pirates ourselves."

"We don't have to act like pirates," Phist pointed out. "We can pay for our purchases."

"Up to a point," Spirit said. "We don't have surplus funds for an extended stay."

"Unless we borrow from the payroll," he said.

There was a pause. Tampering with the payroll was extremely irregular business.

"If the men authorized it—" Spirit said.

We put it to the men, i.e., the enlisted personnel, male and female, and allowed three days to debate the issue. Abort the Belt mission or borrow from their pay in order to extend the mission. Victory over the Belt pirates would lead to some legitimate plunder that would be used to reimburse the payroll in kind. It was awkward and risky but feasible in theory. It was also un-Navy.

They hashed it out and voted, and decided by a clear if not overwhelming majority to extend the mission.

But this did tighten our time. We had to meet and defeat the Marianas soon, and we still lacked the fleet strength to defeat them, unless Emerald could come up with some phenomenal ploy.

"Mohi Heath," she said. "The Mongol commander Subedei was outmanned and far from home in 1241, but he used a daring tactic to overwhelm the Europeans. I think it would work for us. But it's risky. We really need more ships."

"Jupiter won't send more," Spirit said. She remained angry.

"We could get more," Mondy said.

"How?"

"The Solomons."

"The Solomons won't fight for us," Spirit said. "They won't fight against us, because Straight surrendered and we retain their hostages, but they certainly aren't with us."

"But that would change," Mondy said, "if we took the proper step."

Emerald's eyes seemed to develop an internal glow. "You conniving bastard! Are you planning what I think you're planning?"

"Just moving up the schedule a little, on the inevitable."

Now Spirit caught on. "Would it work, so soon?"

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

Juana, the ever-present secretary, was standing beside Spirit. "Don't ask, sir."

"Fetch Brinker; she'll know," Emerald said smugly.

"When you girls start acting mysterious," Phist said, his voice carrying the same baffled annoyance I felt, "it's time for us men to beware."

Juana hurried out to fetch Brinker. "I think Straight had this in mind from the outset," Emerald said. "It was tacit in the surrender. He knew all along it would come to this."

"Knew what?" I asked.

Emerald exchanged a dark glance with Spirit. Both smiled. Neither answered me.

Brinker arrived with Juana. Ordinarily Brinker would have been aboard her own ship, the destroyer we had captured from the Carolines, but she was on the Sawfish now to help interview pirates and ascertain their competencies. As a former pirate herself, she had excellent insight in this regard. Now she was smiling grimly; evidently Juana had told her what was up.

"Will it work, Little Foot?" Emerald asked.

"It should, Rising Moon," Brinker agreed. "That's the pirate psychology."

"Of course it is," Repro said. "But there's one problem you vixens may not have considered."

"Peat Bog's no vixen!" Emerald retorted, reaching across to take Mondy's hand affectionately. "He's as cunning, underhanded, sinister, devious, and scheming as any of us."

"Haven't you been playing keep-away long enough?" Phist asked.

"Must have," Emerald agreed. "Who's going to tell him?"

Now the women were serious. None of them wanted to tell.

"I'll do it," Mondy said. He faced me formally. "Sir, if the men must sacrifice their pay, you must sacrifice also. You will have to marry the pirate wench."

"What?" I believe I have mentioned my stupidity when surprised.

"Roulette," he clarified, as if I didn't know. "Straight's hourglass daughter. The creature you've had your eye on. Now you can have her."

I remained baffled. "Why?"

"Because, sir, the pirates will only follow one of their own. Marry her, and the Solomons will form an alliance with us and help us fight the Marianas. With the Solomons actively on our side, our force will be equivalent to that of the enemy. And if the enemy doesn't know about that alliance, the element of surprise could be our crucial advantage."

"I'll say!" Emerald agreed. "We need them, sir."

"But Roulette hates me!" I protested weakly.

"That depends on how you look at it, Worry," Emerald said. "She knows her father intends her for you. She hates the idea of submitting, especially the way it has to happen."

"The way—"

"The one small problem," Repro said with heavy irony.

"You will have to rape her, sir," Mondy explained.

"I what?"

"That is the pirate way," Repro said. "These forms are important; they must be honored."

Appalled, I looked at the women, as different from each other as they could be: Emerald, Spirit, Juana, and Brinker. Surely they could not approve. Slowly, in unison, all four nodded affirmatively.

"But I wouldn't—" I protested faintly. "I couldn't—"

"We shall just have to teach you how, sir," Emerald said with a metallically brilliant smile.

Now, at last, the reason for Rue's rage toward me was clear. She had known. She had cause.

Yet the cold equations of this situation were also clear. This was, indeed, a thing I had to do. I could not escape it.

They taught me with a certain vicious pleasure. Commander Phist, a genuinely decent man, absented himself from the proceedings, and Isobel Brinker pleaded the press of other business, but the others pitched in with what I felt was a bit more enthusiasm than was strictly warranted. They required Brinker to write out a summary of the pirate marriage convention before she departed, and this helped clarify what Straight had said about his marriage to Flush, and why he had told me that.

It seemed it was not mere abduction and rape; it was an intricately structured program, almost a play, with the words and actions virtually choreographed. The groom raided the bride's ship—in theory, pirates always lived aboard their ships, even when comfortable planetoid facilities were available—carried her away bound and gagged so that her screams would not alert her male relations, and brought her to his own ship. Obviously, today, this had to occur with the tacit cooperation of the bride's family, as it was just about impossible for an enemy to infiltrate a ship undiscovered unless he used a gas bomb. He would have to wear a space suit and put her in one, making the business immensely awkward. So in practice the bride was generally turned over to the groom's ship peaceably, and the abduction occurred from her private chamber. Terrified, she was not supposed to resist effectively. But later, when she realized what her fate was to be—

We rehearsed it. Juana served in lieu of the bride, for this stage. We set her up in the stateroom, and it was my task to carry her to the far end of the ship, the groom's quarters. I dressed in combat fatigues, armed, with a laser-proof vest, and sneaked up on her door. I felt like a thief—or worse, a rapist. The others of my staff would move about the passages randomly; all lesser personnel had been cleared from the region, as we did not want news of this program to become fleet gossip. My bodyguard Heller remained at the border of the groom's territory; once I passed him, I was through the first stage.

I tried the door panel. It was locked. Naturally someone had thought to include this unnecessary trifle of realism! I had to use my Captain's key to release it—never mind how a raider from another ship would have accomplished that!—and there was a little sound. That "woke" Juana; as I entered, she sat up with alarm, turning on her hammock-side light.

She was in a low-bodiced pink nightie that revealed rather more of her lush torso than I was entitled to see, and the light was behind her, making much of the material become translucent. Juana had always been a fine figure of a woman, and I had always liked her, and we had some intimate mutual memories; the sight of her this way really did excite me. I realized that my loyal staff had its fiendishly apt hand in this; they had presented me with a model who was guaranteed to turn me on, while being forbidden. Realism—ah, yes. Probably this particular touch was Emerald's doing; she had a pointed sense of humor. But so did Spirit. Women tend to think that a man's easily stimulated reactions to flesh and setting are amusing; I was not amused.

"Who's there?" Juana asked, alarmed, leaning forward. I wish she hadn't done that; her exposed breasts were true marvels of shadowed rondure. I had always been partial to breasts like that, ever since Helse had unbound—

That brought me back to business. I drew my rubber knife and menaced her with it as I approached. "One peep and I'll gut you, wench!" I hissed.

Juana gazed at me wide-eyed. She began to quiver with laughter. That did more things to her exposed bosom. God forgive me, I wanted to dive into that hammock and take her right then and there, though she was in no sense mine to take, and hammocks are terrible locales for sex; the Tail uses bunks. I was turgid for her, and surely she knew it; we still liked each other more than military propriety condoned, and I think women adapt less readily than do men to the sexual and social requirements of the Navy. She had me, at this moment, pretty much where she wanted me: hot with desire and unable to implement.

I grabbed her by one arm and hauled her out of the hammock. The covering sheet fell away, exposing her fine legs. She was in a shortie-nightie with nothing beneath—the kind of outfit correctly calculated to madden men's minds. I could almost hear Emerald laughing, and as I hauled Juana in to me and picked her up by the shoulders and legs, I knew she was laughing, too. First she took the rubber knife out of my hand, so it wouldn't get in the way; then she put her right arm around my neck, holding herself close, making it easier to carry her. My left hand came around, almost touching her left breast, while my right hand lay against her left thigh. Her nightie, naturally, slid up to bunch at her hips; she might as well have been naked. She tried ineffectively to draw it back down with the point of the rubber knife. She surely had not selected that outfit herself; she was not that kind. But she was enjoying it now.

I carried her out into the passage and down toward the groom's quarters. Suddenly she perked up, remembering something. "I'm supposed to try one scream," she whispered.

Well, conventions differed on that. "Scream, and I'll gut you!" I said through clenched teeth.

"How?" she inquired, delicately chewing on the rubber blade.

She had a point, literally. My error! "I should have gagged you," I said sheepishly.

"Too bad!" She inflated, getting ready to scream a good scream. I had to stop her, though well-nigh dazzled by the sight, for I was still in bride territory. Hastily I clenched her in to me and reached my head around to meet hers. She met me halfway, and we kissed—deeply and long. But meanwhile I kept moving down the hall.

In due course she broke, having to expel her chestful of air. "That wasn't fair," she whispered.

"All's fair in love and war," I reminded her smugly.

She offered no further resistance, and in due course we made it to Heller's checkpoint. His eyes rounded, then narrowed appreciatively as he spied Juana's dishabille. "With that in your arms, what do you want with any pirate wench, sir?" he inquired.

"Officers don't rape enlisted personnel," I answered gruffly, averting my eyes. "She's just a stand—in, a dummy."

Juana forced a frown. "A dummy? I'll have you know I'm just as smart as the next abducted preravished innocent maiden!"

Repro appeared. "Very good so far, sir," he said. "But you made several errors—"

"Damn it, no one told me she was going to be dressed like this!" I exploded, carefully setting her down. Gravely she returned my knife to me, while Repro frowned.

"Roulette will be dressed like that," he pointed out. "If you allow her body to distract you prematurely, you're dead."

"Point taken," I agreed grudgingly. "I'll gag her."

"And tie her wrists and ankles," he advised. "That pirate lass would use her legs to put you in a headlock."

"In this sort of outfit?" I demanded, indicating Juana.

"I'd like to see that headlock!" Heller chortled. I glanced at him, and he added: "Sir." Which hadn't been the point, as he knew.

Repro nodded. "She surely knows all the tricks, sir, and will use them." He glanced on down the hall. "Very well, let's get on to the hard part. According to the script, a female relative of the groom sneaks the bride a knife—"

"That's after the rape," I said.

"No, the Solomons do it the hard way. She has the knife during the rape."

"She'll cut my heart out!"

"Not your heart, precisely; there will be a more accessible target," Repro said. That did not encourage me. "You must disarm her, of course, for the act. Afterward, you return the knife to her, and if she remains upset—"

I changed the subject. "Which relative gives her the—"

Spirit appeared. "I am the one. Hope, give me that weapon."

I handed the rubber knife to her. She turned. "Emerald, take over."

"Emerald?" I asked.

Emerald appeared. "You didn't think we'd let you rape a nice girl like Juana, did you? I'll handle this chore."

"I think I'd be better off with the pirate wench," I said.

Spirit slipped the knife to Emerald. "You poor, innocent damsel," she said in honey-drip tone. "I cannot stop my evil brother from this cruel assault, for I am only a woman, but at least I can give you some chance to defend your treasure."

"Bless you, sister," Emerald said, smiling maliciously. "I'll disembowel him!"

"Hey!" I protested.

"Roulette will," Spirit reminded me. "Don't trust her for a moment, Hope; that's how she got her other two suitors. She's your enemy—until you conquer her."

"And thereafter," I muttered.

"Not so," Repro said. "She'll love you, in her fashion, once you prove you're worthy of her. That's the pirate way. But you must indeed prove it, the hard way."

The hard way—in a double sense. But now I was soft, in the same sense. The reality behind this game was anathema.

We went to the groom's chamber. Emerald sat on the bunk—no hammock for this scene!—knife in hand. She was dressed in a tan wet suit, normally used for planetary water action. She might as well have been nude, for the suit cleaved to every intimate contour of her body; perhaps that was the point. She had been slender to the point of lankiness when I had first met her; in seven years she had fleshed out somewhat in breast and thigh and was, if anything, more seductive than before. She was a married woman, and the suit protected her sanctity; it was literally impossible to rape her without first removing it, and, of course, I would not do that. But she looked vulnerable. She was not as lush as Juana, but she was definitely healthy and female—and for her, too, I retained the masculine hankering, remembering the joys of her nocturnal athleticism. It is said in the Navy Book that sex and love are things apart, independent of each other, but for me the separation has never been perfect. I have loved no woman entirely since Helse; but I have loved each sexual partner a little, even those anonymous professionals of the Tail. I knew that Emerald, like Juana, had not forgotten our private shared experience and had perhaps not forgiven its termination.

I shed my outer apparel and stood in brief trunks with an armored crotch. If Emerald scored there with knife or knee, I lost, but this was, after all, only a rehearsal. For the real event I would have to be naked. Perhaps it is fitting that a man bent on rape must leave himself vulnerable to this type of injury.

"Remember," Repro warned. "In the normal pirate course, the bride offers only token resistance, just enough to whet the groom's appetite. But there are degrees, and sometimes she really does fight. Roulette is of the old school; she will be savage. So, to be safe, you will have to knock her out first. Make sure she isn't faking unconsciousness, too. In fact, bind her arms together and her legs apart. But for this practice session—"

"Faking will do," Emerald finished. "Mondy will call the points."

Nothing like having her husband on hand for rape! "Let's get it over," I said, freshly disquieted.

I came at her weaponless. Theoretically I was here for love, not war; this was the nuptial night. The bride was supposed to be attractively garbed, ready for the conclusion, but under her gown she carried the secret knife, her last defense against the indignity of rape. Theoretically the groom did not know this, but, of course, he did, because it was scripted. Still, some prospective grooms did die, and when that happened, the relative who had provided the knife was required to conduct the ex-bride safely back to her own people. There was no penalty for a woman defending herself from rape; the crime was the man's, for failing to accomplish his mission.

However, if through some mischance of violence the bride died, there could be war between clans. It was better to suffer the humiliation of an escaped bride than to kill her in the attempt.

Actually, I could appreciate aspects of this system. It did have its checks and balances, and it was a fair compromise between violence and cooperation. Pirates needed to preserve their image of barbarism, even when they were halfway civilized. It seemed that the women supported this system as much as the men.

"Stay away from me, you monster!" Emerald hissed with a fighting smile. She was enjoying this a good deal more than I was!

"Remember," Repro reminded me. "Don't fool with her. First knock her out. It's the only safe way. Pull your shot for this, of course; it will count."

"I don't like striking women," I said.

"That's a pirate with a knife aimed at your groin," he said. "Think of her as a panther who has killed twice and is going for three. This is an arena, man! It's you or her."

I understood all that, but still I hesitated. I came up to the bunk, hoping to catch her and pin her to it.

Emerald reacted the moment I touched her. One hand clawed at my face, and one knee came at my groin. I dodged aside, my military training serving me well, and she missed both shots. "No score," Mondy murmured from the far side of the bed. A referee for a rape!

I approached her again, more carefully. This time she brought out the rubber knife, making a vicious slash at my arm. It touched the skin as I jerked away. "First blood: bride," Mondy reported.

But already I was bringing my other hand about, catching her wrist. I exerted leverage, twisting her arm uncomfortably. Small leverage against a particular joint at the right angle can be immediately effective. She was at a disadvantage on the bed. In a moment I forced my wrist down, till she dropped the knife. "Bride disarmed," Mondy announced.

Emerald jackknifed, her feet coming up to strike at my face, but my continuing leverage on her arm prevented her from getting at me. I moved onto the bunk, getting on top of her, using my body to pin her upper body down. Her legs remained free but had no purchase; she could not escape. "Bride pinned," Mondy said dispassionately.

Pinned but not conquered. I could not rape her in this position. I tried to get my legs on hers but could not; I would have lost my leverage. It wasn't all that easy to rape a resistant woman!

Repro was right: I would have to knock her out. Half-measures just wouldn't do. I closed my right fist and struck at her head, pulling the blow so it wouldn't really hurt her. But she was ready for this and lifted her head as I moved to fall inside my swing. My forearm touched her ear instead of my fist. "No score," Mondy said.

She bared her teeth. Her own left arm was free now. She grabbed a handful of my hair and hauled my head down to hers. I feared her teeth and resisted, and in that distraction she got a knee into my side and shoved me away. But this gave me an opening; I flung myself on her, pinning her knee under me, getting between her legs at last.

"Oh, hell!" she whispered. Then she yanked my head down again, turning her face to meet mine; I no longer had the position to avoid her.

But I didn't need to. I had her in the rape position. I jammed my armored crotch against hers, to make the point.

Her mouth met mine and merged with a savage kiss. She was trying to distract me, but I refused to let my victory go that readily. I jammed at her nether section again, determined to receive credit for the point.

Her tongue came through our kiss to touch mine. Her hips moved against mine. Her hand let go of my hair and rested on my neck instead. I felt the softness of her breasts pressing against me as she breathed. Again I remembered how she had been in the days of our marriage. Often our lovemaking had been violent, like this, and always exciting.

I am not sure by what stages our struggle converted from opposition to love, but the rest of the universe tuned out and we found ourselves thrusting desperately against each other, our tongues performing what our torsos could not. We rolled on the bunk, her legs twined about mine, our arms clasping each other. Our breathing became savage, but our lips did not separate. For a moment it was like mutual resuscitation: I breathed into her lungs, and she breathed into mine. Then we shifted; obviously, God gave man a nose so he would not have to break a kiss to breathe. Then my urgency overwhelmed me, and she shuddered in my embrace, and our mouths pressed together so hard there was sharp pain on our lips. For a timeless instant we remained in a tension of passion, saliva squeezing past our lips to smear our faces. Then slowly, we relaxed.

I realized that I had climaxed in my steel crotch-guard, and she in her wet suit. We had not touched, physically, technically, anywhere but at face and hands, but we had in fact made love.

My recovering gaze traveled past Emerald's head to spy Spirit and Mondy standing silently beside the bunk. Did they know? They had to!

"I told you I'd get even," Emerald said, and I realized she was addressing Spirit, not me. But I was too preoccupied with my own embarrassment to analyze that. I just wanted to get out of my trunks and take a shower.

In this manner I trained for my wedding night. But though I perfected the mechanics of it, my mind and emotion did not proceed apace. "I'm just not constituted to rape anyone in reality!" I protested.

They tried to reason with me. "It is necessary," Phist pointed out. "We must have the resources of the Solomons, both human and material, if we are to conclude the Belt campaign successfully. I assure you that without replacement for our supplies from Jupiter, we cannot prevail. With the money Straight is prepared to provide—"

"Money?" I asked.

"We need it to continue purchasing food from the colonists. Straight deals in money; he has huge amounts. What he lacks is legitimacy, and a formal alliance with us would give him that."

"It's his daughter I'm raping!" I exclaimed. "How can he give us money?" I was talking foolishly, trying to cover my inadequacy, but Phist was answering seriously.

"I have talked with him and with his Logistics officer. The understanding is as I have described. This is the way the Bands of the Belt make alliances: not by treaty but by marriage. This is his desire."

"Shoving his daughter at me!" I snapped.

"It was necessary to show you what he had to offer, just as you did when you sent your sister to me. This is not so different from what our unit has been practicing, sir."

Damn his logic! Of course he was correct.

"It's a good offer, sir," he continued. "She is esthetically desirable—I doubt there is a prettier woman in the Belt—and a good officer despite her age. You will have to appoint her S-3, of course—"

"What!?"

"Sir, we have a vacancy at Operations, and she is qualified. Sergeant Smith is competent, but an enlisted man can never officially assume the office. Straight saw immediately that the position was open...."

I am so accustomed to my talent that I tend to forget that others have talents of their own. Obviously Straight had a fine eye for the exploitation of potentially profitable situations and was willing to gamble for gain. He had noted the authority of women in my unit, so had played his trump card early, and I, perhaps dazzled by the stunning body and fierce temperament of the girl, had not realized.

"But she hates me," I objected weakly, knowing that this argument would be shot down as effortlessly as before.

It was. "Talk again with Repro. He says hate is akin to love. But you have to win her her way."

"How could I trust her as an officer?"

"Marry her and she's yours," he assured me. "She will be as loyal to you as she has been to her father, even if she hates you. Accept the judgment of those of us whose talents are not blocked by private emotion: She can be trusted in this respect. She is well worth your effort."

"But rape—it's just not my way! I saw—"

"One moment, sir, while we switch specialty teams." And in a moment Phist was gone and Repro was present. "You were saying?"

"I saw my older sister Faith gang-raped," I said. "At the time she was beautiful and just eighteen—" I broke off. "My God! Rue is beautiful and eighteen!"

"Yes, of course," he agreed smoothly. "Naturally you do not wish to put yourself in the position of raping your sister."

"Roulette isn't my sister!" I protested.

"But she is, as you pointed out, virtually the same—"

"No! She's entirely different! She's Saxon!"

"You have prejudice against Saxons?"

"No! But Roulette's fiery; Faith was quiet. And Faith was no—"

"Go on," he said calmly.

"No pirate," I finished somewhat lamely, realizing that I was wading into a quagmire.

"So the situations are reversed," Repro said. "The pirate is not raping the innocent; the innocent is raping the pirate."

"Damn you!" I exclaimed.

"Why don't we explore the implications?" he suggested in his best psychiatric manner. The bastard was competent! "Pirates wronged you by raping your sister. Isn't it only fair that—"

"No!"

"But a long-standing grievance could be—"

"Rape is evil! I never want to be part of it!"

He frowned. "Would you want to be part of an affair with another man's wife?"

Ouch! "Rising Moon! I never intended to—"

"Of course. It was merely a rehearsal for your coming marriage to the woman for which Rising Moon stood in lieu. Peat Bog understands that."

"Damn you!" I repeated. "You're saying I have to follow through with this rape, or—"

Repro spread his hands. "I'm not saying anything, sir."

For sure! I was accusing myself. How could I face Mondy? I should never have let that rehearsal get out of hand! What I had done—was it any better than rape?

Someone cleared his throat. I looked up, startled. There was the one I dreaded: small, middle-aged, brilliant Mondy. How could I even apologize to him?

"Something I must tell you, sir," he said.

I tried to speak and could not.

"You gave her up to bring me into the unit," he said. "It was understood at the outset. I was the interloper—"

"No! A deal's a deal!"

"Yes. And you honored it, sir. Never once did you reproach me in any oblique manner for sleeping with your woman."

"She's not my woman!"

"She was, sir. She loved you—"

"There was no love!"

"And so, for you, she gave you up. And for the good of the unit. I was more selfish; I took payment in flesh for coming in. As time passed, I regretted that increasingly. I knew this unit was where I belonged, where I had always belonged. It is, as you promised, a family. I thought at first that the singing was foolish, but now my song gives me a sense of identity within the community I never had before. The unit has become my life; the nightmares are gone. I can no longer justify keeping Rising Moon; her purpose has been served. I was seeking the courage to do what was right, to return her to you—"

"No, Peat Bog! She—"

"She loved you. She gave me all I asked, more than any woman before, and I loved her from the outset, but I knew the sacrifice she was making. It was wrong of me to use her. But I was addicted to her. I couldn't give her up. I could not afford the luxury of generosity the way you could. I—"

I shook my head. "Damn it, Mondy, you've got it all wrong! I never loved her with my heart, only with my body. I never really loved any woman since my beloved died. I used Rising Moon myself; that's how I brought her into the unit. Because I needed her strategic skill. I bought her—and then I sold her. To you, for your skill."

"But after the rehearsal," he continued without seeming to hear me, "something changed. She had thought of you, even in my arms; this time she—"

"Damn it, Mondy, I'm sorry! I had no right to—"

"She had you, as she had in the old days. And—" he shrugged—"this time it changed. Maybe she felt guilty. She came to me contrite, and for the first time in our relationship, I had her, body and soul." He smiled wistfully. "I'd have given my life for that, for the reality instead of the courtesy—and instead you gave it to me free. She's mine now. She just had to try it again with you, to discover that. She's a good woman once she knows her mind."

"Yes," I said, relieved and amazed.

He smiled. "So go get your own woman, sir." He turned and went to the door, and Emerald entered, passing him with a quick kiss.

"I suppose I knew it when we were in trouble in the Discovered Check," she said, coming to me. "But now I am sure of it. He truly understands me, as you never did, sir."

I nodded affirmatively; evidently it was so.

"Now you've got a woman of your own to catch. You can't treat her the way you did me. She'll use her teeth, for one thing; don't even try to kiss her. And she's fast with that knife; she'll make a feint at your face, then cut out your crotch. Don't fool with her at all, sir; first foil that blade, then club her on the head. Make sure she's out, then do it, fast and furious and hard. Bruise her inside. When she wakes and knows you've been into her, she'll have to yield. She won't use the knife, because it'll be too late; her treasure will be gone. Next time you take her, she'll fight, of course, but she won't have the knife and she won't try to kill or maim; it'll be much easier for you to rape her and easier yet each succeeding time until she can drop the pretense."

"Each time I—!" I protested.

She flashed her metallic smile again. "Pirates always rape. Their wenches expect it. It'll be long before you tame her in bed. But in public she'll serve you loyally, and that's what counts. The alliance. But on the wedding night, don't take any chances at all. This bitch is deadly!"

"Emerald, I couldn't bring myself to rape anyone!"

"Oh, come on, Worry! What do you think you did to me?"

"But you—"

"I responded—after you pinned me. That's the way it is. A girl fights as long as she can; then she relaxes and enjoys it."

"I don't believe that!"

She laughed. "I'm speaking mythically, you idiot! Of course it's male propaganda! But with the pirates, it's more than a myth. They believe it. Roulette will fight you tooth and nail, literally, until you conquer her; then she'll accept you, exactly as her mother did her father. It's in their culture, Hope; you've got to play the game their way."

"I don't think I could even get an—"

"Next to a shape like hers? Who you kidding, sir! You'll be bursting to get into her."

"Thanks for the encouragement," I said wanly.

"Same's it was with me. You never intended to do me; in fact, you didn't think it was possible, with the crotch-guard and wet suit. But you got into the spirit of it, and—" She broke off. "Spirit, that's right. I'm overstaying my turn. Good luck, sir." And she was gone.

Spirit entered. "All right, Hope, it's all set. I slipped her the knife this morning, and the news about the S-3 slot. So now she knows what she'll lose if she kills you."

"But—"

"Repro advised me on that. Rue is tough; she really will fight you. None of this token stuff. But after you take her, and she wakes and has the knife—she's allowed her strike then, and you can't resist; that's when this will weaken her resolve. She knows her father wants this alliance, wants legitimacy more than anything else, and what she personally will gain from it—much more than the average pirate bride—and that you keep your word. She has a good life coming up if she spares you in the aftermath. I think she will. But first you have to beat her and take her maidenhead; there'll be no gift there! Tonight."

"Tonight! I'm not ready!"

"Repro said it had to be soon, before you lost your nerve."

"I never got up my nerve for this! Spirit, do you realize what this is? You saw Faith raped!"

"And I saw how Faith recovered from it, too. But this isn't the same, Hope. Roulette is a pirate. This is the only way she'll ever marry, and she knows it, and wouldn't have it otherwise. She likes you—"

"She hates me!"

"I think we've been over that before. She hates you to protect herself from loving you before it is time. All that emotion will flip 180 degrees once you take her. Once you savage her. And she's a lot of young woman, Hope; don't sell her short. Her father raised her for this from birth: to be too much for any ordinary pirate to take. I think we've set up a pretty good bride for you, and she does have a body you'll enjoy." She smiled knowingly, and in that instant I saw her as she had been as a child of twelve, not exactly a child even then.

"You know I believe in gentle love," I said weakly.

She put one arm about my shoulders and squeezed. "I know, Hope. But think of this as a battle. A competition. If you win, you both win; if she wins, you both lose. You both know it. She may even help you unconsciously; she may not slash as hard as she can, or she may give you an opening to knock her out. Take it, Hope! Knock her out, rape her, and be done with it. We'll have the cameras on you, of course—"

"The what?"

"In case something goes wrong. A complete record of the proceedings, EMPTY HAND style. So everyone can see she has the knife, that you're naked and unarmed, and that she fights for her honor and you rape her fair and square. Her father may want to review that tape before he recognizes the marriage."

"Her father!"

"And we of the staff will be present personally—"

"What?"

She smiled. "It's the pirate way, Hope. The groom's clan has to witness the victory, so that no one can claim he didn't perform. And if anything happens to the bride, I will be obliged to seek revenge—"

"You?" My staff had ganged up on me, hitting me with point after point; now my sister was putting me away.

"I gave her the knife, Hope. It's real; no rubber one this time. I'm responsible for her until you win her. So whatever you do, don't kill her, because if she dies and I don't kill you, her clan will be honor-bound to do it, and—"

I stared at her, suddenly knowing that she would do it. She would kill when she had to, to honor whatever commitment she had, even if she had to kill me. She had survived among pirates; she was made of sterner stuff than I was. There was no one she loved more than me, but she would do it. And then probably kill herself. I had to perform.

I forced my voice to be calm. "I see the complication. I have no intention of killing her. Or of hurting her. Spirit, I just can't do this thing, no matter how all of you insist on sugar-coating it! It's primitive, it's brutal—"

"Hope, you've got to. We need that alliance just as much as Straight does, and you need that woman. You've been too long on the Tail. Just pretend she's a warrior, trying to kill you—because sure as hell she is! It's you or her, and there's only one way to beat her. Focus on that and everything else will fall into place. This is the way it has to be, Hope. If I could rape her for you, I would. But I can't."

The way it had to be. Yes, I understood that, intellectually, not emotionally. What I understood emotionally was that my sister was requiring this of me. Anything else that I could not handle, she would handle for me, such as the overseeing of the necessary executions, but this I had to do myself.

I realized that it would be easier to perform the rape than to balk Spirit.

 

The dreadful nuptial was scheduled for the evening. Already they were setting up the gallery and cameras. I had several hours to prepare myself, and I knew it wasn't enough. Eternity would not be enough! How could I school myself to rape a lovely eighteen-year-old girl?

I struggled like a fish on the hook, in the lake of a fishing-resort bubble, only I was not the fish but the fisherman, and the line was pulling me in and I was drowning. I was committed, yet I flopped on the ground as if seeking escape.

I talked to Isobel Brinker, she of the unshoed Little Foot who needed no man, but she did not support me. "Were I in your place, I would do it," she said. "That's what Spirit said. But how can you, a woman—"

"I am also a pirate. I share the culture."

"If you married, you would expect to be raped?"

She laughed. "He'd damn well have to rape me!"

"But you masqueraded as a man, avoiding that."

"And would again, if I returned to piracy."

"I see more merit in your position than I once did."

"Oh, I approve of the system. I just don't happen to like the role."

"Neither do I!"

"I never enjoyed killing, either, but I did what was necessary—as did you."

Yes, I had probably killed more people than she had. But never dispassionately. Rape was more personal, and more ugly, to me. It was the brutalization of the act of love. Helse had taught me the true nature of sex as a function of love, and I did not see how I could go against that.

"You keep thinking of her as a pretty girl," Brinker said. "She's not. She's a pirate. She can kill as readily as I can. If you don't get that straight in your head, she'll kill you—and all that you have worked for will be lost."

Brinker was a pirate, telling me my business. Of course, she was correct. I knew and yet still could not accept it. The abhorrence of rape was as deep in me as anything. I would not be the person I am, were this not so.

I called Straight, half-expecting him to refuse my call, but he accepted. "You know what I contemplate?"

"Certainly, Captain. It is scheduled for tonight, your time. Do you want my advice?"

The victim's father—preferring advice! "Yes."

"Strike swiftly and hard. Parry the knife, score on the jaw. Grab her hair and lock her head down so she can't slip free. Don't let it drag out. If you don't succeed in the first minute, back off and send her back to me; that's the only safe course. Don't delude yourself with any notion of fair play; that will only make you the third notch on her blade."

I remained amazed that he could speak this way of his daughter. "If I backed off, would there be a treaty then?"

"No. My men would not serve. My power exists only so long as I honor the necessary conventions."

I shook my head. "You actually want this to happen to your child?"

"What I might want, in a more civilized situation, is beside the point. It has to happen, Hubris. I want my daughter to be well married; I have exerted my influence only to select the proper man, after making two mistakes."

"What of your wife? Does she approve?"

"Ask her." The screen divided to include Flush's face.

"I never would have respected Straight if he hadn't tamed me," Flush said.

"But rape—"

"Do you think he would have respected me if I'd submitted without struggle? What man wants an easy woman?"

"I—suppose that's true," I mumbled.

"And what would my clan have thought?" she demanded, making her point. "I want my daughter to have the same respect I have had. Only one man ever touched me, and he had to fight."

Defeated again, I cut the connection. I sought out Shrapnel, the Fiji prisoner who refused allegiance. "A question, if you would," I said.

"It's your time, Cap'n."

"Have you ever married?"

He was surprised. "Sure—once. Didn't last, though."

"And you raped her?"

"Of course. She liked that. But six months later she found a rougher man."

"She left you for a more violent pirate?" I asked, amazed again.

"That's right. I retained some of those old civilized ways, and they turned her off. She didn't respect me. She didn't have a mark on her when she left. I like it better now, with your Tail; they don't mind if it's not violent."

"Thank you," I said dispiritedly. I turned away. There was simply no getting away from it. I was the only one who wasn't in step.

"Cap'n," he said.

I turned back. "Yes?"

"I know this isn't much, but Miss Roulette's a pirate. I would serve her."

"Even if she became our Navy S-3?"

He spread his hands. "A man's got to compromise a little, sometimes. I'd give her something special for a wedding present."

"Thank you," I said, and turned away again.

I returned to my chamber and lay in my hammock, seeking sleep or inspiration or a new outlook. None came. I stared at the ceiling. It was blank. I tried to think of a better approach. None offered. I was stuck with a job I knew I would botch, perhaps at the cost of my life and mission.

Someone entered. "Go away," I said, my eyes closed.

The intruder ignored that. A hand touched my shoulder. I shook it off, opening my eyes. I saw a boy of about fifteen, in civilian clothes; by his complexion I judged him to be Hispanic. What was he doing here?

"I think you need me, Hope," he said. His voice was adolescently high and somehow familiar.

"Do I know you?" I asked.

"I think so," he said with a smile. "You were going to marry me."

Startled, I looked at him more carefully. He wore a close cap that concealed most of his hair, and his face was smooth and without beard or blemish. His arms were thin; he had not graduated from any military training program.

I reached up and took hold of his cap, drawing it loose. His brown hair fell out, flowing to his shoulders.

His? Her shoulders. "Helse!" I cried.

My beloved smiled. "When you call, Hope, I am here."

"But you're dead!"

"For a time, yes. But I will live for you when you ask me to."

"Oh, Helse, I love you, but I can't believe in you!"

"I know." She removed her masculine shirt, showing the binding about her chest that masked her bosom. She unwound that, letting her breasts free. They were not the splendors that Juana or Roulette possessed, but they were the first I had loved. Helse was, after all, only sixteen, still maturing.

"You're lovely," I told her.

"I know." She stripped down her trousers and panties and stood naked for a moment, appraising herself. Then she joined me in the hammock. It was a squeeze, but I welcomed it.

Hungrily I kissed her. But then I paused. "The last time I was with you, Helse, it turned out to be—"

"But I can't come to you in my own body, Hope," she protested.

"I can't love you through a substitute!"

"Yes you can. Megan—"

Megan, the girl of the picture who had looked so much like Helse. The scientist's niece. The one QYV had promised me for the key. For an instant I was tempted; then I rebelled. "No! I want you—only you!"

"You wouldn't like me now, Hope," she warned.

"Yes, I would!" I insisted foolishly. It was as if I were a boy of fifteen again, heedless of reality in the flush of first love.

She sighed. "I must do what you want." She began to change. Her clear complexion became rough; then her skin flaked away. Her hair came out in tufts. Her lovely breasts shrank like dehydrating fruits and fell off. Soon there was no more than an ancient corpse beside me, with the bones beginning to show.

I realized I had been a fool. Of course this was her physical nature now; she had died fourteen years ago. "Oh, Helse! I'm sorry!"

"But you will join me," the awful skull said. "When the pirate wench slays you." She tried to laugh but lacked the wind for it.

I woke, shuddering. I was alone in the hammock. Neither living nor dead flesh had visited me physically; it had been a vision.

In my visions I can believe almost anything, but in the waking state I am more cynical. I did not believe that my death would bring me to Helse; it would only extinguish me. I would be absolutely foolish to let myself be killed.

Which perhaps was Helse's point. She had always known when my feelings were going astray.

"Thank you, Helse," I said to the empty room.

 

It was the hour of decision. I went to Roulette's chamber. For this I was dressed, and I had a knife.

I stood before the door panel. Something nagged me, and I paused until I had it. This was a play, of course, a choreographed ritual, but aspects were real. The pirate wench knew I was coming, and she was pledged to fight me; would she simply remain in her hammock?

I tried one of the oldest tricks in the business. I removed my shirt, opened the door, and tossed the shirt into the darkened room. It flared, ballooning in the breeze of its motion before falling to the floor.

Something leaped at it. Immediately I jumped in, catching her from behind. She had stabbed the shirt. I put her in a neck strangle, expertly squeezing so that her carotid arteries were constricted in their deep locations. In five seconds she was unconscious, because the blood flow to her brain had been cut off. She never had a chance, because she had been too eager to strike and had fallen for my countertrap.

Quickly I laid her down and used my shirt to bind her wrists, and the sheet from the hammock to secure her legs. I had not forgotten the lessons of the rehearsal! I tore off a section of sheet to gag her, then picked her up and draped her over my shoulder. The abduction was in progress.

I carried her to the groom's chamber—actually, for this special occasion, a converted recreation room—and laid her on the bed.

The groom's team was present, seated in chairs near the walls. Repro, Phist, Mondy, Emerald, and Spirit. Brinker operated the video camera, and Juana was in a corner making shorthand notes. Seven people in the gallery. It was time for the second act. I remained uncertain I was up to it.

I stripped until I was naked, disposing of clothing and knife, preparing for the nuptial rape. At the same time, Spirit untied Roulette, who had, of course, recovered consciousness; a proper blood strangle puts the victim out only briefly. Had I not tied the bride, she would have come suddenly alive at the least convenient moment. Now she was ready for me.

She wore a pale blue negligee that offset her red hair dramatically. Her tresses were artfully wild, making her resemble in my mind a waiting jaguar. Her eyes blazed out at me defiantly. Perhaps it was her striking beauty and softness of form, merged with her evident readiness to explode with tooth and claw that enhanced the feline impression; or maybe it was a carryover from my drug-vision of some time back. Whichever, I found this alarmingly sexy.

Sexy? Well, that was, after all, what I was here for.

I was naked now, and Roulette was clothed. It didn't help that three men and four women were watching, and that I had had sexual relations with two or three of those women. The moment I experienced the masculine reaction, fourteen eyes would be on it in addition to those of the bride; that daunted me. If I did not experience that reaction, I could not complete my mission. What ignominy it would be to render her helpless and then be unable to complete the act.

It is said that a watched pot never boils, and that the main cause of impotence is the fear of impotence. That seemed to be true. I was defeated before I started.

Roulette stared at my face with her blazing hate. Then her eyes traveled down my torso, and she smirked.

That was a tactical error on her part. Shame converts readily enough to anger, and it was so with me. The audience faded somewhat from my awareness, as if fogged out by technical means to enhance the foreground. Flushed with reaction, I advanced on her. I was supposed to brutalize her; that much I could do!

And with that realization I felt a tug at my groin. Ouch! The thought of hurting a beautiful young woman gave me a sexual reaction! I was, to some extent, a pirate!

That, in turn, cooled me. But now I was at the bed, and I had to act or retreat. I almost retreated, but then she made her second error. She struck at me, swinging her small fist at my groin. Automatically I blocked her arm, and then her other hand swung out, bearing the knife, the blade driving directly at my face.

Now the battle was joined, truly! My head moved aside before I even realized, consciously, the nature of the thrust. Her hand passed by my ear, and in that moment she was vulnerable. There are ways in which a weapon handicaps a person, for it limits the variety of attack. I knew how to handle a knife-fighter. Before she could bring her blade back, I had her arm in a pain lock.

"Oh!" she cried involuntarily. She tried to fight it but could not; I could readily have broken her elbow. She tried to retain her hold on her knife, but slowly I increased my pressure, and she had to let it drop.

She relaxed. "I guess you've got me, Captain," she said.

I let her go, and instantly she arched off that bed and leaped at me, claws and teeth flashing. A jaguar indeed! But I had not been deceived; I caught her by shoulder and thigh and lifted her as I might a mannequin, and flung her down onto the bed. It was a hard fall she took, and part of the air of her lungs whooshed out. I dropped with her, pinning her with a judo hold down, my right wrist angled to press at the back of her neck, my head close to hers. She struggled, but when she did, the cutting edge of my wrist brought pain that forced her to desist. That is part of the technique of a hold down; it is not strength or weight alone that makes it effective. A midget could have pinned a giant with this one.

I murmured almost in her ear: "The wife of an officer of the Jupiter Navy is exempt from civilian prosecution. She can travel with him anywhere in the Jupiter Sphere. Wherever she goes, she will be treated with the deference due her husband's position. She must, of course, entertain visiting officers in a formal manner, but she has a maid for the busywork. She dresses prettily and listens politely to their droll stories, while their wives eye her jealously. I can't say it's much of a life for a women as lovely and talented as you, yet perhaps it has its appeal."

I let her go. Again she sprang up like a released steel spring, grabbing for my hair while her two knees came up. Had her move been successful, she could have caved in my face with those knees. But, ready for this, I simply lifted my head clear, caught her rising right leg, and gripped her right buttock through the negligee. With that leverage I turned her over. Before she could react, I caught her negligee and hauled it up toward her head. Then I grabbed for her nightgown beneath it and hauled it up likewise, exposing her classic bottom. I spanked it smartly.

She seemed virtually to spin in air, outraged. But her elevated skirts hampered her, and the material started to tear. I grabbed it again and swept it over her head, stifling her with two layers of cloth while her body was exposed to the breasts.

She was helpless again for the moment, head and arms entangled. I stared at those perfect breasts; half-dazed, I had never seen a better pair of structures in my life. Now I had the male response. Suddenly I wanted to fling myself on her and do what I had come to do. But caution prevailed.

I gazed and spoke to her again. "There are sights to be seen in the Jupiter System that few pirates are privileged to experience," I told her covered face. "One day I mean to see them myself. The great city-bubbles, some of the largest in the Solar System, floating the massive atmospheric currents of the Colossus, laid out with streets and parks and small lakes. I understand the freshwater fishing-bubbles are fun for the honeymooners; the water is in a channel-river that makes a spiral loop several times around the bubble before reaching the lake at the equator. Couples float down it in canoes and keep any fish they catch. I think that would be fun, especially with the right company."

She finally burst out of her confinement. "You can stare at my naked body and talk of fish?" she demanded. "You're supposed to be ravishing me!"

"But I don't believe in rape," I said innocently.

She wrenched about, striking at my face with her fists. I swung clear of her blows, and she sat up and pushed me farther away, causing me to lose my balance and fall on the bed. Her knees came up; I jerked my head up, and she spread her legs and caught me in a head-scissors. My error; I had been warned about this very thing. I knew I should have knocked her out when I had her entangled. A head-scissors is not the most serious situation, but it can be awkward to break, because the legs have more power than the neck. She had me pinned, and my arms could not pry her knees apart.

Furthermore, I was facing into her naked split. Supposedly this is a position to inflame a man's passion. Actually, I don't regard the genital region as the most esthetic part of a man or woman, and I was desperate to free my head before she found some more deadly way to capitalize on her advantage, but every part of Rue was a marvel of rondure and symmetry, and I was indeed impressed by what I saw.

She shifted position, and I gained leverage, and got my arm between her thighs. There are nerve complexes there, and I jammed my thumb into one, and the sudden pain forced her legs apart. I yanked my head out, sat up, and discovered that she was reaching to the floor to recover her knife.

I grabbed for her arm, but it was too late; she had the knife. She blocked my hand with her left arm while her right hand raised the blade.

I disengaged and threw myself to the floor as the knife plunged forward. I wasn't quite fast enough, and she grazed my leg. I felt it only as sensation, not pain, but the blood was welling out of my calf. That knife was sharp!

I paused, but she knew better than to pursue me. The bed was her bastion. She awaited my next attack, her blade poised. She might not be expert at unarmed combat, but she did know how to use that knife.

A portion of her negligee trailed over the side of the bunk. I dived and caught it, feinting at her knife hand as I did so, to conceal my purpose. Then I stood back and yanked on the material.

No good; it simply tore loose, leaving her with a ragged but sufficient covering. But I realized I had a device here; she could not protect both her knife and her clothing. I made another pass at the knife and got another handful of cloth. I tore it free. After several such sallies, I had her halfway naked; after several more, I had stripped the rest of her.

I had thought this would at least disgruntle her. It did not. She remained poised, her blade awaiting its opening. She had come close to scoring on me again as I tore away her apparel, and now none remained to distract her. She was one lovely, firm-fleshed young woman, and knew it; it was harder than ever to concentrate on what I was doing.

What was I doing? I should be trying to knock her out so I could rape her in peace, and my own weapon was hardly ready. It was dangerous to let this drag on like this; sooner or later she would score with her blade. Every adviser, including her own father, had told me to finish it quickly.

But now, having suffered first blood, I knew emotionally as well as intellectually that this was a serious fight. She would stab me if I didn't stab her. Yet still I clung to my idiotic notion that she would somehow submit without violence, once she saw the light, so that it wouldn't be rape. I knew better, but it prevented me from undertaking the brutality I was supposed to practice.

"An Operations officer has status in her own right," I said. "She does not have to play hostess for her husband if she chooses not to. She exerts significant power, organizing the operation of the command, answering only to the commander himself. She salutes only him. This is not ordinarily a prerogative of marriage to the commander, but in this case the marriage is required for legitimacy, and the office can only be assumed while this mission exists. But for that limited period, it's about as much power as any woman can have." I knew, now, that she craved legitimacy and power beyond all else, as some women do. Her father had encouraged this attitude in her, making her his heir in nature as well as in office.

"Damn you!" she flared. "Shut your mouth!"

"Just thought you'd be interested," I remarked innocently. "You did very well when you organized the arrangements with the Solomons. I appreciate competence wherever I find it."

"You're not fighting fair!" she protested.

"Well, as they say, all's fair in love and—"

"Next you'll tell me you love me!" she cried indignantly.

"No. I could never love a pirate. I merely want to use you."

"Well, get on with it, then! You won't use me by talking at me!"

All too true. Her knife had never wavered. There was no easy way to conquer this hellion, certainly not by words.

I became aware again of the audience sitting around the chamber, making no sound or motion. I certainly wasn't following their advice. It was evident to all that I simply wasn't ready, physically or emotionally, to finish this business. Even the victim was getting disgusted. Probably I should retreat, giving up the effort. No rape, no marriage, no loss of life. But also no alliance, and no continuation of my mission in the Belt. That was no good, either.

I studied Roulette, trying to fathom an opening so I could disarm her again. Once I got the knife away and held her struggling body close, I thought I could do the rest. But I wasn't sure. If I still couldn't perform—

I looked into her eyes. Was there a pleading there? She knew what I had to do, and why, and knew what it would mean for her. She knew that if she killed me, or even escaped me, all would come to naught. If ever a woman could be said to want to be raped, this would be the occasion. I knew I had to do it, and she knew she had to be the victim, but neither of us was able to overcome our aversion to it. I could not force her, and she could not accede without violence, however much we both might desire the consummation. An impasse of a sort, like that Juana and I had suffered in the Tail, and I did not know the solution. We were locked in a situation neither of us wanted.

Then I looked through her eyes, and her face changed. The jaguar aura faded, and her features became rounder, older, and beautiful in a different way. Her naked body became less pronounced but just as feminine. And—I loved her.

"Helse," I whispered.

"No," she said.

"Who, then?" For now I saw that she was not precisely Helse, who was dead, but another woman very like her in appearance, though older. The woman Helse might have become, had she lived to her thirties. Had she been Saxon.

"Megan," she said.

And so she was. The one other woman I could love, perhaps, though I had never met her. I stepped toward her. "I hardly know you," I said. "Only through your picture, that I glimpsed with my beloved."

"I am older than you," she said.

"I know. I could never love a younger woman." I moved in to kiss her. A part of me was surprised to see this ready acceptance of a woman I had never met, yet I also knew she was as close to Helse as I could ever come. For even the suggestion of Helse, I would give up virtually everything else I valued.

She met me partway. I felt a sting at my left shoulder; I shrugged it off. There was another. I ignored it and brought my lips to hers. The kiss was sharp, almost painful, but wonderfully sweet. I felt her body tight against mine, gradually relaxing. What a woman she was!

We drew apart, a little. She gazed at me wide-eyed. "Oh, Hope, I'm sorry!" she said.

"Sorry?" I asked, surprised.

Then her lovely features clouded and changed and reformed to those of the jaguar maiden. A smear of bright red was on her chin. My lower lip hurt; I brought my left hand up to check it, and discovered I was wounded in the shoulder. Pain stabbed through me, and I saw there was blood down along my arm from two deep knife wounds. An artery had been punctured.

"You stabbed me!" I exclaimed. "And you bit me!"

"Well, you hugged and kissed me!" she retorted.

"And you're not Megan." That, more than anything else, I could not forgive her.

"Who the hell is Megan?"

I struck her, a slashing openhanded blow across the side of the head. Her head rocked back, her mouth open, but I caught her again on the other side with my backhand. She fell on the bed, blinking. "Who the hell are you?" I demanded.

Her right hand swung up, bearing the blood-tipped knife. My own right hand moved so quickly my eyes did not follow it and caught her wrist. I stared into her eyes as I brought her knife hand down to her own face. Strength for strength, she could not compete with me. "You prefer sadism?" I inquired. "Shall I make you slit your nose? Men would not find you so pretty, then."

She fought, but she could not budge the knife except by letting it go. She did so, and it fell flat across her mouth, not cutting her, and slid to the bed. "I never saw you like this!" she gasped.

"You never saw me at all, you arrogant bitch!" I snapped. "You like me better now?" I jerked my right hand and forced her right hand to strike her face. "Suppose you chew off your finger while I watch?"

"You brute!" But it was neither fear nor horror that governed her now. Her tone was one of discovery and admiration. "Kiss me again, I won't bite!"

I released her hand, moved my face close to hers, and spat in it. Blood and saliva splatted against her cheek. "I'd as soon kiss a snake!"

She shuddered, not with anger but with rapture. She spread her arms and her legs. "Do it now!" she breathed. "I can't fight you when you're like this! You're a real man after all!"

I drew away from her and stood by the bunk. "Look at me," I said. "I don't want you. You're not Helse, you're not Megan. What good are you?"

"Revile me!" she whispered. "Hit me! Make me scream!"

"You aren't paying attention, you pirate slut," I said. "Look at my member. You don't turn me on at all."

Now she looked. She saw I was not bluffing.

"I can't believe it. You brutalized me; you must want me."

"You have failed as a woman," I told her.

She snatched the knife from the bed beside her. She pointed it at my groin. "I'll cut it off!"

"Go ahead." I raised my arms and set my hands behind my head, not retreating from her.

She thrust and aborted, making a feint. I did not budge. I had called her bluff. She knew that if she castrated me she would lose the only man who had broken her will.

Slowly she brought the blade to her own throat. "If you won't have me, no one will," she said.

"Spirit," I said.

My sister rose from her chair. "Yes, Hope."

"If she dies, you are bound by honor to kill me."

Spirit hesitated. I had been in awe of her before; she was in awe of me now. "Yes," she whispered.

"I can't hear you," I said.

"Yes!" she screamed.

"Set the laser."

Slowly she brought out her laser pistol, adjusted it, and aimed it at my face.

My eyes had never left Rue's. "You see we honor the pirate convention. Do you believe Spirit will kill me?"

Roulette turned her head a moment to gaze at Spirit's face. "Yes," she breathed. "She doesn't bluff."

"So you may safely kill yourself," I continued. "You know you will be immediately avenged, and there will be no onus for your father to bear, no embarrassment to your clan."

Roulette flung the knife away. "You bastard, you have mastered me! Finish it!"

"Why should I?" I demanded cruelly as Spirit lowered the laser and returned to her chair.

Rue considered momentarily. "May I touch you?"

"You may do what you like with me."

She leaned forward and reached for my member, but she was inexperienced and did not know how to force a reaction. Observing her defeat, she dropped to her knees before me, flung her arms about my legs, and pressed her face to my torso. I felt the moisture of her hot tears, and that brought on the masculine reaction. In humiliation she had won what she had lost in her arrogance.

She returned to the bed and lay back, legs spread. "Now do it!"

I stood still, in two senses. "Do what?"

"You know what!" she flared.

"Why?"

"Oh, God—must I beg for it?"

"Yes."

She stiffened, then forced herself to relax. "Please."

"I can't hear you."

"Please!" she cried.

"Address the camera," I said.

She faced the camera. "Please rape me! I beg you!"

I glanced at the audience. All of their eyes were glowing, and their jaws were set. They were embarrassed and angry. There are reasonable limits to all things, even sadism. I realized that I did not like what had been evoked in me.

I looked back at Roulette. She lay there, spread, waiting. Her bosom was heaving, and her face and neck were flushed.

It had to be violent; that was important. I owed her that.

I got on her, and as my member touched her flesh, I felt the climax on its way. I thrust savagely, not to hurt her but because I had only about three quarters of a second to get into her before exploding.

She clung to me, relishing it, climaxing instantly as I tore through her virgin membrane. She kissed me passionately. My blood was on her lips, her blood on my member. My essence pumped into her with the most urgent pleasure I have experienced.

"Promise me one thing," she whispered as it subsided.

"One thing," I agreed into her soft, fragrant hair.

"Never make me beg again."

"I promise." I had raped her spirit rather than her body; I would never again need to humiliate her like that.