7
When I stepped back into my cell I found out what they'd meant by 'a larger bed,' and it came with an unexpected benefit.
The bed was now bigger than a California King ... but the real prize was that the room had been expanded to accommodate it. I hadn't lost any floor space, so in effect I'd gotten a twofer.
It wasn't just bigger either. The new bed had several pillows and was piled high with fluffy comforters. Granted, it was all plain white, but I wasn't about to sweat color schemes in a prison.
Mauren was leaning against the wall opposite the bed when I walked in, and pushed away to face me directly, wings shifting behind her but not flaring out like they had the first time we met.
The door slid closed behind me as she said, "You obviously impressed them. The actual size of the increase you'd be allotted was probably open to debate. That aside, let's talk about us."
I raised an eyebrow at her. She blew out a sigh and strode forward, stopping just out of reach and towering over me as she said, "Fine. I talk, you listen. I'm hungry. Soon I'll be starving. You need to decide if you're going to feed me or kill me, because it's got to be one or the other. Feed me, and I'll tell you everything I know about what's going on, what'll happen, and help you prepare if I can. Kill me, and you can learn everything the hard way. You might do well but you won't do as well, and this is a game of inches. So what's it going to be?"
She was being almost aggressive, and I wondered what had been said to her while I'd been gone. Maybe nothing, but either way she'd clearly come to a decision and chosen to press.
Considering the nature of the test I'd just been given and the fact that Mauren's 'probably' had been right, she was going to be in my corner for the foreseeable ... unless I killed her, which would be ungrateful.
Granted, 'ungrateful' would be near the bottom of the pile of epithets poured on my name over the years. I had not been a good man and God knew it because ... well, I was here.
I had no assurances and no way out, but it was obvious that someone wanted me for something. Yet, it was an opportunity I'd have a hard time capitalizing on if I kept my mouth shut. Mauren had given me an ultimatum and if I didn't intend to kill her, it was finally time to talk.
Best get it over with.
"I'll feed you," I said.
She blinked at me, and her jaw dropped.
She pointed at me and promoted herself from just a little obvious to Captain.
"You spoke."
I nodded.
She stammered, "W-why?"
"Why not?"
"I ... uh. Oh for the love of fuck, what is wrong with you!? Three fucking months of language training and not a peep! We could have gotten things done so much faster if you'd just talked to us!"
"You weren't worth talking to," I said, more amused than anything else. She was almost hovering over me, hands flexing as though she wanted to tear me to shreds ... but her boobs were also pretty much in my face and her face was ... well, she's one of those girls who made angry look sexy.
Probably a succubus thing, but given how terrified she'd been and how flustered she was now I still didn't really think of her as much of a threat.
"Weren't worth talking to?! We've got your life in our hands!"
Shrugging, I said, "I'm already dead."
Mauren blinked, then abruptly knelt in front of me, putting her hands on her knees as she said, "You actually have memories of dying?"
I nodded. I remembered everything right up to the muzzle flashes. I had to figure someone'd capped me in the head because there wasn't anything after that and I'd always heard you got about twenty seconds to look around once the deed was done. Though, come to think of it, that might just be if you die by guillotine.
"Where did Lane find you?" Mauren asked, obviously bewildered.
I shrugged. I had no answer that would be meaningful for her. Anything I said trying to explain it would be a waste of breath. Even if she did know about Earth, it still wouldn't answer her question. Where had I been found? How had I been brought back to life? For what purpose?
The rabbit hole got deep quick and unless some giant floaty head came down from on high demanding a song and dance, I didn't think I was going to get much of an answer to any of those questions.
Mauren brought me firmly back to the moment as she asked, "Well ... now that you're talking, do you know what I need from you?"
"I have an idea, but if you want it you're going to have to get it yourself."
"And you'll quietly allow that?" she asked, eyes narrowing.
"If I get the feeling I shouldn't I'll snap your neck," I said, watching her steadily.
"Ahh, and here I was thinking you might be more than pure violence wrapped in a sack of flesh. My mistake."
"You strip a male naked, throw him in a cell, give him nothing to work with, and expect reasoned, graduated responses?" I asked. "What kind of moron are you?"
I realized as I spoke that I didn't have a word in the new language for 'man.' I only had 'male.' It was a telling omission.
She tilted her head, never taking her hands from her knees as she considered me. It was obvious that she was still cognizant of me as a threat, and I was fine with that.
"Are you suggesting you're capable of more nuanced action if you had clothes, resources, and the rest?"
Since I had no idea how extreme the implications of what I'd just heard really were, I simply nodded. At the very least, an unapologetic matriarchy, at worst, males as cattle. I might not be able to trust Mauren after all. If she considered me fundamentally inferior she'd have no problem breaking her word to me. It would be like breaking a promise to a dog.
I watched her look me up and down, then say, "I have no idea what your original body must have been like. Did you have scars?"
The question took me by surprise and I hesitated to answer. It had never even occurred to me that this might not be my original body. That I was in perfect health and at the peak of fitness despite three months of inactivity was something I chalked up to the same kind of magic fuckery that had brought me back in the first place. If I'd been brought back from the dead, clearing up scars wasn't even worth a spare thought. My body now didn't have any scars.
That hadn't been true once.
"Why ask?" I said, wanting to know where the question was coming from.
"I just want a better picture of the mind behind the face. Now that you're talking, I have a thousand questions," Mauren said.
"I thought you were hungry."
"Yes, but I also don't want my neck snapped. If I'm going to fellate you we'll be at each other's mercy. If I bite, you'll bleed out, but I saw you break that syban's neck with no effort. I know you could do the same to me. I'm no fighter."
So there it was. My guess had been right.
"What do you get out of semen that you don't get out of blood or regular food?" I asked.
"Semen is prime essence. I get some from blood but it's barely enough to keep from starving."
"What is essence?"
She blinked at me as though I'd asked a question so basic she was stuck for an answer. Her eyes tracked right as she brought a knuckle up to her chin, then flicked her finger at me as she mused, "How to explain this to a primitive ..."
Scowling, I said, "Try using small words."
Without the faintest trace of awareness, she said, "All right. Life is a complex web of dependent systems. Suns feed plants, which feed animals, which feed sentients, which feed us. I actually prefer to feed from other succubi, but I'm not exactly spoiled for choice right now."
"So you could get what you need from people like you? You're a ... is there a word in your language for things that eat their own kind?"
"Yes, but that's not what this is. I don't kill and grill. Do you have a concept of livestock? Certain animals can be harvested from without taking their lives."
I got what she was saying but since I didn't know the words in her language I just nodded as I said, "We did that, yes."
Pointing at me, she said, "Well that's you, to us. You provide us with food and entertainment. The director is hoping to groom you for the next season of a show starting next month."
"A show?" I asked, a bit bemused.
"It's ... hard to explain. You'll be competing in front of a global audience with other livestock species at a variety of tasks that challenge both the mind and body. Winners typically sell at auction for mind-bending amounts, a cut of which goes to the people who found, bred, trained, and sponsored you. There are also prizes awarded during the show, both to the contestants and to ... well, us. It gets complicated and there's a lot of politics."
They wanted to put me on TV? For real? They brought me back from the dead to be on a god damn reality game show?
I really was in hell.
"Gck-ack!"
I blinked, looking at Mauren through a red haze. My rage had snuck up on me again. I never consciously moved, but my hands were around her throat all the same and in that moment I couldn't think of a single reason not to squeeze until her head popped off. I stood away from the wall, wrenching her in close to me, her face less than an inch from mine as I hissed, "You brought me to life ... for nothing!"
Her eyes bulged. Her hands were scrabbling at my wrists, but despite the fact she had to be grasping and straining with everything she had, I could barely feel any pressure. Despite her size, she really was a weakling. Her dark red skin was going black from the pressure I was putting on her throat. I wasn't even targeting her arteries but it was obvious my grip was tight enough to shut down both blood and airways. She'd be unconscious in a few more seconds ... dead shortly after that.
There was only one problem. If I killed her I'd never get a shot at the people she worked for. Those people had put her here because they thought I'd do exactly what I was doing.
If I killed Mauren — no matter how good it would feel in the moment — I'd be playing right into the hands of the people I really needed to hurt.
I released her with a savage shove that put her on her back, one wing caught at an awkward angle under her with the other splayed. Her tail was wrapped around her own leg, its tip curled tight and glistening as her whole body shivered.
All I could do was stand there snarling, fists clenched. I wanted to tear her apart, but she would only be a proxy. Even worse, I'd given away what I really thought about what they wanted from me. No matter how much I played along now, they'd know I hated the idea, and them.
My chances for revenge probably weren't even calculable, but I wanted it. I'd been resurrected to be a clown and by God I would make whoever was ultimately responsible rue the fucking day they made that choice.
As I stewed in rage, Mauren was sucking in one breath after another, chest heaving as she stared at me with wide eyes. When she gathered herself enough to say something, though, it startled me.
"Wow ... you actually have real self-control. That's amazing!"
I looked her up and down, rage suborned by disbelief. I sounded as weirded out as I felt when I said, "Your bar for me is really fucking low, you know that, right?"
"You're unusual. Most of the time when we get a gene seed it doesn't come with pre-existing episodic memory. The creatures we raise don't generally have any real self-control, just a kind of cunning restraint we train into them for the games."
"Yeah, but they have sentience, don't they?" I asked.
"Well, yes. We couldn't get anything out of them if they didn't," Mauren said.
"Which means their lack of self-control is entirely on you. And by that I mean you specifically as a wrangler. If you were placed in control of training, and all you did was drill language into people, of course they don't have any self-control."
"Well, we don't really want them to have self-control."
Taken aback ... again, I blinked at her. She must have gotten it without my saying anything because she said, "It doesn't benefit us when our livestock doesn't actually need us to prosper. Beyond some basic good habits we don't encourage advanced education or complex training for our food."
"Why, because every time someone tries it there's a rebellion?" I asked.
"Yes. Exactly. Then we have to purge and start over. The costs are astronomical and a lot of succubi starve before we get things back up and running again. The gains aren't worth the losses so we stick with basic education, only enough to keep them from being underfoot. Individual owners might go further but they're held responsible for whatever the sentient does. Most don't risk it."
There wasn't a trace of shame. Mauren looked at me with an expression somewhere between pity and pride. She really did think I was inferior. She couldn't help it. She'd spent her entire life regarding people like me as livestock. That wouldn't change just because I had her at my mercy.
Which meant her word — at least to me — was truly worthless. The instant she got a chance to reclaim her old life she'd take it.
It likely wouldn't happen until near the end of 'the show.' Presuming I did well there would be an attempt to sabotage me. Mauren by then would be recognized as someone I trusted. Someone who could easily be turned. They'd make her an offer she'd have no reason to refuse.
Until then I could use her, just like she'd use me. I just had to be ready to fool or kill her without hesitation because no matter what happened she would be no true friend.
She simply wasn't capable.