“It might have been the queen’s bidding, but it was your direct actions. That was all you. You hurt Sara. You hurt D’Annon. Who knows how many other people you’ve hurt?! You can’t expect mercy when you had none for my friend and her mate.”
“My queen said mercy is for the weak. That only the strong can do what it takes to win.”
“Your queen is a bitch.”
Vorto’s head snaps up, and he stares at me in utter shock. His mouth opens and closes several times, making him look like a fish on dry land.
“My queen is a bitch,” Vorto whispers, then slaps a hand over his mouth like he can’t believe those words escaped. A horrified, gasping giggle makes its way around his fingers. “Queen Diamalla is a bitch,” Vorto gasps out, then starts laughing uproariously.
I don’t know what to do with this weird, maniacally laughing alien. The laughing is over-the-top. I feel like I am the only witness to the destruction of this man’s every belief. Well… I guess I’m the cause too.
Vorto just keeps laughing and laughing. Like a switch is flipped, the laughing turns into heaving sobs. His shoulders lurch while he covers his face with his hands. I can hear his sorrow, loss, and horror saturating every keening cry.
Aw damn, I’m not good with tears.
L’Corte
Lost in a daze,I am barely aware of my surroundings as the elevator takes me back up to the main floor. I’m shocked by my behavior. I’ve never been one to take any action without careful forethought. I always proceed with caution. Trinh has vehemently complained about that part of my nature on more than one occasion.
I kissed Trinh based solely on instinct and desire, without a single thought toward planning or prudence. I might be shocked, but I am not regretful. I know she is single because I have always paid particular attention to whether she spends time with any of my fellow Cerasteans. With a small amount of chagrin, I can admit a large part of my attention towards Trinh was because she intrigues me. From the first moment she burst into my office demanding access to the exercise facilities for the bride volunteers, she has never been far from my thoughts.
As the elevator doors open to my floor, I am already planning when I can see Trinh again and get another chance to feel her lips on mine. I typically proceed with caution, but I need to see her again. I want the pleasure of her touch. I don’t need to analyze the situation. I know exactly what I want – more of her in whatever capacity I can have her.
When I enter the chancellor’s anteroom, I let his secretary know that I need a moment of L’Forn’s time. The male quickly waves me into the chancellor’s office, warning me that he is in a meeting with the command council but available to talk.
L’Forn is not at his desk but in a sitting area off to the side. Several of the command council members are sitting with him, including General D’Annon.
“Director L’Corte, what can we do for you?” L’Forn asks.
“I hope I am not interrupting anything important?” I reply.
“No, we could use a break from all the strategizing,” L’Forn says with a grimace.
“I was in the storage area with one of the bride volunteers when she said something that has given me an idea. She mentioned how she wished the mated brides weren’t required to travel to Osti, that we could bottle up the mated females’ pheromones so they could stay further away from the danger. It reminded me of the ampoule we pulled off Vorto. Do you think it might be possible to bottle up the pheromones of the mated brides so the males could carry it with them? Do we know how Queen Diamalla was able to bottle her pheromones and keep them preserved?”
As I make my suggestions, all the males around the room slowly straighten up into alertness.
“I’m not sure. Let me get Scientist L’Arc in here. I assigned him to research Vorto’s vial of Regina pheromones,” L’Forn says while rapidly typing into his tablet.
“Do you think it could work?” D’Annon says with hope in his eyes. I know he mated Sara only recently, and I imagine he wants to keep her as far away from the Ostiums as possible, especially after everything she went through at the hands of Vorto and his anti-Cerastean Earth First comrades.
“He’s on his way,” L’Forn announces, while the rest of the command council talks quietly amongst themselves.
“You said a bride volunteer made this suggestion. What was her name?” L’Forn asks.
“Her name is Trinh,” I say. “She’s the one who always wears the high-heeled shoes.”
“Ah, yes, I know who you mean. I will have to seek her out to express my appreciation.”
“She’ll probably be in the storage room with the Presenting Ceremony decorations for quite a while if you want to seek her out.”
“Wait,” L’Forn says with a look of concern. “You left her alone in the storage area of the ship?”
“Yes,” I respond slowly.
“We have a few Earth First detainees who haven’t yet been turned over to the human government on that floor since it is not accessible to the bride volunteers. More importantly, we also have the Ostium Vorto locked up on that floor.”
I make some inarticulate noise of shock and horror.
