The Iriduan’s Mate by Susan Trombley
Five
The sound of water dripping somewhere nearby warred with the soft, pleading croaks coming from the bulging throat of the sagdui whose upper set of arms had been tied to a pipe above his head. His amphibious skin glistened from a mucus coat and the toxins that welled from the pores on his bared back.
The heat in the under-vent tunnels could be almost unbearable in some places, and for some species, it was. The sagdui preferred cooler climates, but Zaska’s thokost enforcer, Thudar, hadn’t brought the message runner here to suffer from long exposure to the heat.
They all knew he wouldn’t live long enough for his amphibious skin to dry out and his body to whither.
“Please,” the sagdui whimpered to Molly, his nictating membranes sliding over his huge, black eyes. “I swear I don’t work for Uthagol! It was all a misunderstanding! Please!” He turned his head, his thick neck straining around the bulge of his distended throat as he desperately searched the tunnels on either side of his temporary prison. His terrified stare returned to Molly. “Tell Sha Zaska that Thudar is wron—”
Thudar’s fist slamming into the sagdui’s soft belly cut off his plea. The sound of flesh striking flesh made Molly flinch inwardly, but she remained still, breathing in deep to steady herself, even though her gut churned with bile and her heart raced in her chest.
“My master finds Thudar’s evidence compelling, I’giar,” she said in the soft, breathy voice she only used when playing her role as Zaska’s mouthpiece. “You have been spying upon our operations for Uthagol and her minions. Sha Zaska will not accept this betrayal without consequence.”
Thudar punched the sagdui a second time to silence him when he opened his fleshy lips to speak. A pained grunt was the only thing that escaped them as his lower set of arms strained against the bindings that kept them tied behind his back.
The thokost glanced in her direction, the shadow of his antlers shifting on the rock wall behind him when he moved. She felt his questioning look but didn’t meet his amber eyes. He was a brute enforcer—one who believed in the existence of Sha Zaska, though he’d never seen the gang boss. It didn’t matter. Zaska had his unquestioning loyalty, and he obeyed Molly as long as he thought she served the gang boss’s will.
She kept her gaze on I’giar’s dangling body as she gestured towards him with one hand, her stomach rebelling so she had to swallow hard to keep the bile down. She wanted to close her eyes when Thudar started beating the sagdui, the thokost’s own toxic skin undamaged by the drops of toxin that spattered onto him from each impact with the sagdui’s rubbery flesh. He demanded answers from the runner in a hollow toned voice, but they didn’t actually need them. Thudar had already collected all the information they needed to trace the sagdui’s actions in the past three months since he’d been approached to spy for Uthagol.
The skeletally thin, spidery alfgoi bitch had her suspicions about where her escaped slaves had run to, and now had a personal vendetta against Sha Zaska, believing he’d had something to do with the explosion at one of her brothels several years ago. She was technically correct, though her ire wasn’t aimed at the right person, but Uthagol couldn’t even comprehend the idea that the slaves themselves had managed to escape and build a successful criminal organization in the lowest bowels of the column.
Thudar took efforts to keep the sagdui conscious to suffer as much as possible, but eventually, he sagged in his bonds, and it was clear that he wouldn’t regain consciousness. Then the thokost simply snapped his neck, leaving his corpse to dangle, flesh battered and swollen, bones shattered beneath layers of fat.
Mogorl and Grundon shifted their weight behind her as Thudar turned to Molly, his disturbingly humanoid face expressionless as I’giar’s blood and toxin spattered his rough, textured skin. The Ultimen never felt easy in the presence of those who weren’t aware of the truth, always prepared for Zaska’s minions to turn on Molly. She wished she could take some of the other minions into her confidence, but the less people who knew the truth, the less likely it would end up leaked to someone like this sagdui.
“Leave the corpse for Master Sha Zaska,” she said, stripping all emotion from her voice while keeping it as soft and submissive as possible.
She’d learned at a very young age how to mask her distress, no matter what horrors she’d been exposed to. The mask of stoicism had saved her life on more than one occasion.
The thokost cast a quick, nervous glance at the dark shadows that clustered in the tunnel exits. He then bowed his heavy antlers in her direction. “Please inform Sha Zaska that I will never allow another of my servants to be compromised again.”
Molly had no intention of making an example out of Thudar for failing to stop Uthagol from compromising one of his team. He’d more than demonstrated his loyalty by detecting I’giar’s betrayal and bringing it to her attention.
Sometimes, she hated being the primary mouthpiece of the mythical gang boss.
“I will, honored thokost.”
She made certain her bow was lower than his. She was—after all—just a slave, and Thudar was a free and willing minion of the gang boss. What that said about him was more than obvious to her, as was the sagging corpse, but she understood the need to do terrible things to survive. None of Sha Zaska’s minions had chosen their life out of an abundance of better alternatives.
Ultimately, the sagdui’s death was her doing. Thudar was simply a weapon she’d used to silence a threat.
Thudar left, understanding the dismissal. Once Mogorl informed her that he was gone, Grundon cut down the sagdui.
“You don’t have to stay to watch this,” Mogorl said, noting her expression as she struggled to keep her bile down, blinking back tears as the corpse slumped brokenly to the stone ground spattered with I’giar’s blood and fluids.
Molly shook her head, swallowing hard before daring to open her mouth to speak. “I do,” she whispered. “I swore I would never turn my back on the consequences of my own actions, no matter how terrible.” She looked up at the Ultiman’s face, seeing the kindness and empathy there that he had to hide as much as she did her own emotions. “Leave some of his limbs to rot in the tunnels, near the runner’s station. Throw the rest of his body in the lava well. Send his head to Uthagol.”
Mogorl nodded and turned to the corpse, leaving her to stand on shaking legs, her fists clenched against the desire to flee from the scene. Together, he and Grundon tore off two arms and a leg from the body, then ripped off the head.
Despite her determination to endure the grisly sight, Molly had to turn away when the first arm came free, trailing bloody ropes of tissue and muscle. She collapsed to her knees, then bent over and vomited everything in her stomach to spatter the ground in front of her trembling body. She covered her ears with both hands to shut out the horrifying sounds of the two Ultimen finishing their dirty work as hot tears burned her eyes.
She flinched when Mogorl gently touched her back, then bit back a sob as she pushed herself back to her feet. Swiping a hand over her lips, she turned towards him, her gaze skating over the small pile of dismembered body parts and the streak of blood from where Grundon had dragged the body out of the tunnel to take it to a lava well.
“Grundon will finish the work, Mol,” Mogorl growled gently. “Let’s return to the inner sanctum so you can rest.”
Molly wanted to show a strong front, but she couldn’t manage it at the moment. She’d seen so much in her life, endured so much, that she felt like she should be immune to such horrors by now. Yet this situation proved to her that she hadn’t yet hardened herself enough to the realities of her existence.
She wondered what life on Earth would have been like for her. She’d heard many stories about it from the slaves she’d helped to escape and knew that parts of that world could be as brutal and bloody as this one. She had no idea what the situation had been like for her and her family when she’d been abducted, but she had a feeling her life would have turned out vastly different if she hadn’t been taken.
She followed meekly in Mogorl’s footsteps as they left the under-vents, not because it was an act she had long ago perfected, but because she truly felt broken and lost and needed someone else to rely on and protect her in that moment.
Jenice joined her in the inner sanctum after Mogorl left her to wash up in privacy. She caught Molly staring blankly into the bathroom mirror, wondering if her eyes looked a little more dead now.
Wondering if they were as lifeless as the sagdui’s corpse.
“Thudar’s an ass-kisser who wouldn’t dream of questioning Zaska’s mouthpiece,” Jenice said with empathy in her tone as she approached Molly. “You could have left him to do the job himself. He wouldn’t have protested you not being there.”
Molly slowly shook her head, watching her movement in the mirror as the delicate bells on the chained netting that swung from her head ornaments tinkled. “I have to face what I am, Jen. This monster—Sha Zaska—he is me. And I am him.”
Jen rushed to Molly’s side, gripping her upper arm to jerk her away from the mirror, forcing Molly to face her. “Don’t you dare take all the responsibility for Zaska on yourself!” She glared as she lowered her head to meet Molly’s tear-soaked eyes. “We are not monsters! We do what we must in order to help the innocent escape this hellhole. Zaska is a terrible necessity, but he is a necessity.”
She touched Molly’s damp cheek. “And I won’t let you regret what we’ve created here simply because a lowlife pond scum like I’giar met his well-deserved end at the hands of our minion. We’ve done the same to others, and will have to do so again, but we’ve never killed anyone who didn’t earn it.” She clutched both Molly’s arms when she tried to turn away. “He worked for Uthagol,” she hissed angrily. “Everyone knows what a monster she is. He deserved his death, Molly.”
Molly finally pulled away and stumbled out of the bathroom and into the sitting room. She looked up sadly as she sank down onto one of the loungers. “What do I deserve?”
“A fucking medal!” Jenice snapped as she joined Molly on the lounger. “Stop all this moping. You chose to go down there and endure that scene for some misguided and masochistic reason. Now you have to suck it up and focus on what matters.”
Molly sighed and leaned back on the seat, staring up at the star-studded ceiling, the hologram that played over it slowly moving the constellations around the room. “How long are we going to do this, Jen? We will never free every slave.” She snorted. “We freed seven—seven, in the last shipment! That’s such a pitiful number considering all the terrible things we do in Sha Zaska’s name.”
Jenice touched her arm. “Seven people who are now heading to a safe and possibly happy life don’t find that number pitiful.”
Molly smiled weakly, turning her head to look at Jenice. She winced and lifted her head off the seat to pluck out an ornamental pin that got stuck in the material and pulled on her bound hair. “I hate these things,” she said, chucking it onto a nearby low table. “Why did I think we had to invent such elaborate costumes for Zaska’s mouthpieces.”
Jen grinned as she glanced at the fallen pin, a cheap imitation of gold and precious gems. Then her smile faded. “If I recall, you decided on these costumes and the dyed skin and markings to make it less likely we would be recognized as Uthagol’s former brothel slaves.”
Molly sighed heavily, sagging into the upholstery. “Right. I should have thought of a less labor-intensive costume.” She lifted an arm to stare at the swirls of green tentacles covering her purple dyed skin. “I’ll probably need to re-dye soon. My markings are fading.”
“Glad to see you’re finally focusing on the right priorities.” Jen patted her arm as Molly lowered it back to her side. “Now, speaking of focusing, I actually came in here with good news that I think will cheer you up. Ma’Nah has contacted us, and they want to do business with us—if we can agree to terms they like.”
Molly’s heart thudded faster again, only this time, the fluttering feeling in her stomach wasn’t from horror. “When will we be working out those terms?”
“Today.” Jenice clapped her hands together. “In fact, you only have a few hours to get cleaned up before you’ll meet with their rep in the office.” She rose to her feet and strode to the wall, touching it so a panel slid aside to reveal a closet filled with green outfits.
“I really despise green,” Molly said as Jenice plucked out a dress to examine it before shaking her head to put it back and select another.
Jenice grinned as she glanced at Molly, holding a silk robe that looked like the ones the Iriduans themselves often wore. It was elegant and demure in comparison to most of the outfits Molly wore as a dyed flower. “And here I thought green was your favorite color.”
Molly stood up, smoothing the fabric of her current dress. “It was, until I decided to use it to represent Sha Zaska’s gang.” She approached Jenice, who handed the robe to her, then dug through the dresses for other potential options. “So, the Iriduan rep wants to meet in person?”
“He doesn’t want to transmit details, even over encrypted lines.”
Molly accepted the second dress—a far more revealing one—automatically, her gaze on Jenice’s face. “That sounds like we won’t be dealing with aboveboard cargo, Jen.”
Jen smirked as she pulled out a final dress for Molly to consider—a flowing, billowy number with a romantic, fairy tale appearance. “My guess is that Ma’Nah isn’t entirely operating on the legal side of things, even for Za’Kluth. They’re probably trying to slip under the city bosses’ radar.”
Molly huffed as she took the final dress. “I don’t think the word ‘legal’ even applies in this place, but I have to agree with you. It doesn’t sound like Ma’Nah wants much attention brought to their business.” She sighed as she regarded the three dresses in her hands. “We can help them smuggle stuff in and out without much notice from the city bosses. I just hope this deal will be worth it for us.”
Jenice dug around the shelves below the dresses for a pair of shoes to match the different styles. “Look at it this way,” she straightened, holding strappy sandals dangling from one hand and glittery slippers in another, “at least you get to see the Iriduan guy again.”
Molly raised her eyebrows. “You mean the one in combat armor? Do they usually send soldiers to business meetings?” She shook her head. “That hasn’t been my experience with them in the past. An escort of guards, sure, but I’d expect some pompous, berobed asshat to be leading the talks.”
Jenice’s eyes glittered as she turned to face Molly. “Apparently, that guy is someone important in the company, and he’s the one making the decisions, so….”
She put both pairs of shoes in one hand and plucked the sexy dress out of Molly’s loose grip. “Maybe you should wear this one.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “We already got their interest. I don’t need to seduce the guy.”
“We might get better terms,” Jenice said in a singsong voice. She wiggled her shapely hips as she followed Molly towards the bathroom. “Just flutter those long eyelashes of yours and show him a little skin and maybe a little kissy, kissy,” she made smooching sounds as Molly laughed despite herself and tossed the romantic fluttery dress at Jen.
“Stop it, you loon!” She lifted the green, embroidered robe. “I need him to respect me, and humans are already at a disadvantage on that front with those Iriduan bigots.”
Jenice snorted as she tossed the other two dresses on the bed. “As long as he respects Sha Zaska, it doesn’t matter what he thinks of you personally. You’re just a mouthpiece, as far as he’s concerned. We’ll be communicating through the terminal to fine tune the contract, and you’ll be pretending its Zaska himself talking to you. What you need to do is keep the Iriduan distracted so he doesn’t overanalyze our terms or get too hardnosed and inflexible with theirs.”
She stepped closer to Molly, holding out the strappy sandals. “Who cares if he respects you, Mol, as long as we get what we want? Keep your eyes on the bigger picture. This Iriduan is just one more mark we can use to our benefit.”
