The Eidolon's Conquest Page 10

  The men stood in formation in front of him. The fact that they'd all had basic training made things easier. They lined up into rows as though they were coming for early morning PT. All the men looked toward him and his two andromedas as the cargo ship's engines boomed back on. Rand waited until it was clear.

  "I'm former Stealth Fighter Rand," he said into a microphone a robot had set up for him. "And I'm currently the comfort slave of the Eidolon High Lord, Deandred."

  This caused heads to turn so looks could be exchanged. The men said nothing, however. Months of sergeants' discipline kept their lips instinctively sealed.

  "This camp, and all of you, are my responsibility. What you need to remember though, is that I answer to your enemy—not to Delphi. I don't have to keep you guys happy or even keep you alive. Right now it looks like you're going to have it pretty fucking sweet here. Don't take it for granted. You're prisoners. You get that? Fucking prisoners. Things could get shitty fast for you and you couldn't say boo about it. The only thing the truce guaranteed was food, shelter, and no torture. That's it! Before you complain about anything, you ask yourself, 'Am I starving? Am I frying in the desert sun with no cover? Am I being beaten with an electro whip until you can see my guts through my back?' No? Then don't fucking complain. Don't be fucking malcontents. You keep your whining to yourself and just be happy you got a toilet to shit in instead of a hole in the dirt."

  He continued the cruel tone while going through some of the rules. Of course he knew the men would see the fine camp he'd built for them and breathe a collective sigh of relief. His goal was to gain their fear and respect so he'd have no trouble with misbehavior. Though the men stared at him with blank faces he knew his words had to have chilling resonance. They were at the cusp of a situation completely unknown to them.

  "Raise your hand if you have rank."

  All but a few hands rose.

  "Keep your hand up if your rank has first class in front of it."

  A third of the hands lowered.

  "Keep your hand up if you're a major or higher."

  Most of the remaining hands lowered, leaving thirty still raised.

  "Keep your hand up if you're a sergeant major or higher."

  Only five hands remained.

  "Good. You five get on stage with me."

  They shuffled to the front and formed a line facing the audience beside him.

  "Name and rank. Yell it out. You first blue-eyes."

  The men yelled their names and ranks one by one. They were all older soldiers who had reenlisted for second or third tours. Rand presumed they'd volunteered to be prisoners to avoid combat. None of them had the hardness in their eyes elite fighters should have.

  "These men are your representatives. They're going to get the five end caps in the rows of cubicles. If they're on the end of your row then they're your representative. You go to them if you have a problem. Don't come to me. I ain't your friend. I work for the Eidolons. The only ones who can come to me are these five guys. I'll talk to them and let them know what qualifies as a problem or not. If they can take care of shit by talking straight to the robots then that's what they'll do. Otherwise, I'll get involved. You don't want me involved. I think you guys have it too sweet as it is. You piss and moan about stupid shit then I might get fed up and make things even worse for you."

  An orb drifted down to him. Rand stiffened. Oh fuck—what the hell is this?

  "Let us give these pathetic humans a demonstration of what will happen if they attempt to rebel."

  Rand's heart thundered. "Yes, sir." Holy shit—he's really buying my 'I don't give a shit about you' spiel?

  "Pick one of them to be a sacrifice."

  Rand's eyes bulged. He covered his microphone with a trembling hand. "But, um, sir, wouldn't killing one of them without just cause be a violation of the truce?"

  "I wish for them to know that I have no respect for this truce—or them. Let them cower as they should."

  Rand felt on the verge of a panic attack. Instinct took over, and he did his best to keep his emotion out of his voice. "Yeah, these pathetic dips deserve to cower—you can tell Delphi sent us their most useless men."

  "Their infantile faces are revolting to me."

  "I see a lot more trouble if we execute one without justification though, sir. It's your decision, of course, but as soon as they know the truce is meaningless they're going to make escaping their one and only goal. Then we'd have to kill all of them—and we haven't even gotten the first supply delivery yet."

  "They must fear me."

  "If you disintegrate a robot in front of them all they'll be pissing their pants with fear, sir. You don't have to kill one of them to get them to cower. They're all cowards to begin with."

  "Very well."

  It drifted away. Rand tried to rein in his own terror. A robot came out of the camp and stood in the dirt next to his stage. Rand cleared his throat.

  "You see these orbs? These orbs are Gizmoidon's eyes and ears. He's always watching you—hearing you. It doesn't matter how quiet you whisper, he can hear it. And if you try to sneak a note he'll hear your pen scratching. There's no way you can ever rebel or escape. I know you're all volunteers, that's great. Fucking wonderful. But now that you're here you're our property. There's no way out and forget about making trouble for us. You do anything suspicious—anything that might even be misinterpreted as suspicious, Gizmoidon is going to kill you. Just like that. One second you're alive, the next you're dead. Faster than you can snap your fingers." He snapped.

  The orb obliterated the robot with an ear-shattering boom. Rand hadn't seen it, but the horror in the sea of faces before him told him they had. Adrenaline alone allowed him to maintain his composure.

  "Gizmoidon hates you. This city used to have millions of humans in it. He killed them all. He'd love to kill each and every one of you, too. Just give him a reason."

  A boy standing in the front row who looked to be no older than eighteen fainted.

  "Oh what the fuck," Rand said with a feigned sneer. "Unbutton his collar and fan him or some shit."

  The men on either side of the boy lowered to obey. He slowly came to.

  The orb lowered back beside Rand.

  "You were correct. It took no more than a destruction of a robot to make them cower."

  Rand tried to sound pleased. "They won't give you any trouble, sir."

  "I find your service acceptable, human." It floated away.

  God help me.

  * ** *** * *** ** * * ** *** * *** ** ** ** *** * *** ** ** ** *** * *** ** *

  Rand toured the camp while the robots put men in their assigned cubicles. Once they settled they unpacked, and once unpacked they stayed in their cubes. Rand walked down the aisles full of quiet men huddled on their beds. Guilt clenched at his insides.

  I fucking traumatized them.

  All he had wanted to do was gain respect. Now he was as much of a monster as Gizmoidon.

  Rand sighed. Fear was good since it made it less likely for Gizmoidon to incinerate them. He had to live with it.

  He glanced into a cube and hesitated. On one of the beds was Skip, the young soldier from his meeting with High Command. Rand eyed him.

  "What the fuck are you doing here?"

  Skip met his eyes and then looked down. "I volunteered."

  "How come you didn't raise your hand when I asked if anyone had rank?"

  Skip shrugged. "Sorry."

  Rand snorted. "Yeah, well, fuck it. I don't really care."

  "I'm surprised you're running this camp. You got brainwashed, huh? Did they drug you or something?"

  "Look, all that shit I said out there was about keeping you guys alive. This place isn't going to be so bad, but you can't be getting ideas about doing shit. Big Brother is watching. I want you guys safe."

  The other man in the cube perked up at this.

  Since he didn't walk away Skip stared at him. "Are you really a comfort slave?"

  "Yeah." He noted the awe in his q
uestion. "Come over to my office with me. I want to talk to you about something."

  One of the five representatives he'd chosen came up behind him. "Uh, sir."

  Rand turned. "Yeah?"

  "We're uh—we're going to need plungers for those toilets. The robots don't seem to know what they are."

  "Oh. Yeah, there was some unloaded with the cleaning supplies." He tipped his nose to Skip. "We'll talk later."

  "There's a couple of other problems, too," his rep said, apparently emboldened by his receptiveness.

  "Well, fuck."

  By dusk all the men were eating their first robot-prepared meal in the mess hall. Rand swiped two of the trays and had his andromedas carry them for him. Men had started playing ping-pong in the rec room by dinnertime. They were growing comfortable fast, but he knew they would remain too scared to do anything stupid.

  He used his code to access the new roof landing strip where his cruiser was parked, then headed home.

  Rand wanted to feel content about the successful first day. There was still tightness in his stomach over Gizmoidon. The truce means nothing to him. The monster computer was probably never going to release those men. As soon as he'd gotten stocked up he was probably going to kill them all.

  But then there would never be another truce...and he could need more supplies in the future.

  Rand clung to the tiny shred of hope he had.

  Once home he put it all aside and proudly presented a tray of food to Deandred, who'd been seated in the atrium. He looked over the steak, potatoes, canned fruit, and corn on the cob while shaking his head.

  "How pathetic we are—to steal food from prisoners."

  "They got plenty of food, Master. What's pathetic is eating bugs while prisoners get steak."

  Deandred reached up to touch his nipple (he didn't pinch since they were still recovering). "Don't think me ungrateful. I just loathe the situation with our supplies right now. It's demeaning for me."

  Rand set his tray on the coffee table and sat. "You deserve a good meal, Master."

  Deandred smiled at him. "You also. For some reason Gizmoidon confided to me that he no longer dislikes you."

  Rand pursed his lips. Once again he pushed back harrowing thoughts of the future. "I'm not a Delphi soldier anymore. I'm an Eidolon's slave. I work for you. I made sure everyone knew that."

  "Do the prisoners know not to trifle with Gizmoidon?"

  He cringed. "Yeah. He helped me with a demonstration for them. They were scared shitless. One guy even fainted."

  Deandred lowered his gaze. "A pity. I imagined they would be happy prisoners in that wonderful camp you built. They deserve...at least that."

  Rand's stomach clenched into a knot. Why? Because they're all going to die? No...that's not what he meant. Don't even think it.

  "They'll get comfortable, Master. But they'll never forget what they saw. It will keep them from getting executed."

  Deandred rubbed both his nipples through the fabric of his shirt. Rand closed his eyes to enjoy the cascading bliss. He needed the sublime sensation to draw him further from his thoughts.

  "You're a good custodian to them, Rand. You exceed my expectations in all things. I think even...I think that I'm coming to love you."

  Rand's eyes opened. Tearful emotion built in the back of his throat. "Master..."

  "Shh. I didn't say it so it would be parroted back to me." He gave his nipples a gentle tug. Rand made a pleasure-wince. "Just know how very dear you are to me."

  "Yes, Master."

  He removed his fingers from him. "Now let's eat."

  * ** *** * *** ** * * ** *** * *** ** ** ** *** * *** ** ** ** *** * *** ** *

  Skip sat in a high-backed chair in his office the next day. His hands rested on both armrests and his legs were wide. Rand took note of his relaxed posture.

  "How do you like the camp?"

  "Seems fine. The way you were talking I thought it was going to be worse than the barracks in basic. This is actually an upgrade for all those privates."

  "Yeah." He eyed him up and down. "I didn't want any malcontents. So, uh, how about you tell me about yourself?"

  Skip's relaxed posture folded in on itself. He crossed his arms and brought his knees together. As he did so he made a nervous laugh through his nostrils (bluster to hide his fear, Rand knew). "He's making you pick which guys end up as comfort slaves, huh?"

  Rand kept his eyes locked on him. "Yep."

  "And I'm the one unlucky guy who you actually knew, huh?"

  "Ain't just that. I think you're a freaky motherfucker."

  Skip laughed again, but the color had washed out of his face. He looked around nervously.

  "This isn't your first tour. You were drafted, but then you renewed. Why's that?"

  Skip managed to meet his eyes for a second. "Taking orders is something I'm good at, I guess. Once I got promoted all the way to major general it seemed like the job for me."

  Rand sneered. "What kind of fucking job is this for anyone? You don't like fighting or you wouldn't have volunteered to be a prisoner. You're here because there's nowhere else for you to go."

  "Well...prisoners are offered those big bonuses, you know? I figured I could use that money to start something when I got out."

  "Uh huh. Like what?"

  "A store or something. I don't know." He chewed his thumbnail a moment. "Look, if you're saying I should just be a slave for the rest of my life because I'm an idiot with nothing going for me, that's just bullshit. I made it to major general in four years."

  Rand considered this. "I was more trying to see if you had something out there so good you'd have a reason to fight to get back to it. I need fifty guys. Fifty sacrifices. No one's going to want to do it. All I need to know is can you do it. Can you thrive, like me? The bar is low. You fit the bill."

  Skip scrubbed his hand over his face. "Look, you know, I mean—if it was just for the three years I was going to be here I'd volunteer. Just so...so some other guy doesn't have to go down. But the rest of my life? If I'm miserable there's no way out. How can you ask someone to do that?"

  "I have to. We're the cherry on the cake. The only reason the truce happened. I need to sacrifice fifty guys here. You're my first pick."

  Skip buried his face in his hands. "Oh, fuck."

  "I'm giving you to an Eidolon named Ottrea. My master likes him, and my master's a good guy. That means Ottrea's a good guy, too."

  He looked up with tears brimming. "What's he going to do to me?"

  "He's going to make you his pet. He'll order you to be obedient. I was able to do it, so you better be able to do it too. If not, he'll punish you in horrifying ways until he breaks you. If he can't ever break you, he'll kill you."

  Skip stared at him with his lips parted and his chest heaving.

  "You'll call him Master. You'll probably get naked for him right on your first day. When he sees you're obedient he'll be happy—be nice to you. And he'll go slow. Eventually he'll be touching you. Fucking you. Doing kinky shit with you. But then you'll have other work for him, too, like how my master has me running this camp." He pointed to his collar. "This is a tracer that paralyzes me if I try to run away or take it off. You'll get one too. Since he knows you can't escape he'll let you go out into the city and do stuff for him if he needs it. After a while you'll start to trust him. Then you won't be scared. You'll get happy when you make your master happy. Eventually you'll be glad you were picked. If my master gave me the choice to be free today I'd say no. My place is with him. I don't want to be anywhere else."

  Skip chewed his bottom lip. "That...that all sounds fine if it's true."

  Really?

  "But how would you know? You're just telling me how it is with your master. You don't know how this other guy will be."

  "I trust my master. He said Ottrea would be a good master. I know it's true."

  Skip nodded while swallowing an audible lump. "I...I don't have a choice either way, huh?"

  "Fraid not."

/>   He took a deep breath. "When am I going?"

  "This week. Maybe tomorrow."

  "Fuck."

  "You're going to be fine, Skip. I can already tell."

  "I hope you're right."

  Rand saw a robot-manned Eidolon ship hovering over the house on his way back that evening. He realized a Delphi supply truck was unloading in the driveway.

  Sweet!

  He parked in the hangar and excitedly sought out his master in the house. After a search he realized he wasn't there. Robots were busy in the kitchen restocking empty shelves. Two Delphi soldiers stood with them scanning barcodes on each delivered crate. They looked shocked at Rand's appearance.

  "I'm the High Lord's comfort slave. What do we got here?"

  The young soldier wet his lips nervously. "Bout a year's supply of food if it's just you and him. Lots of other shit, too. Paper products, cleansers, some linens and shit."

  "Fucking finally."

  He knelt down to open a crate. It was full of radishes. Aw, fuck.

  Rand waited in the atrium once the deliverymen vacated. After a half hour his master strode to him looking weary. He plopped into his customary seat.

  Rand tried to hold back a giddy smile. "Welcome home, Master."

  "I need another slave. I had to coordinate the pick up of the fuel cells we're providing to Delphi in trade. They're so volatile they could be used as bombs. It was a tedious chore that's beneath me. And yet, something so dangerous could not be entrusted to robots."

  "Sorry, Master. Why didn't you have me do it?"

  He yawned. "You have your own obligations. Were the supplies delivered?"

  Rand was unable to resist a reciprocal yawn. "Yes, Master. Looks like we're stocked up."

  "Good. Everything's going as planned."

  Rand got a twinge of apprehension.

  "We're the only base on schedule. The other Eidolon cities don't even have their prisoners yet. It took them longer to get the camps built." He sank into his chair. "But soon. Soon we'll have all we need."

  Then what? He glanced up at an orb and stymied the question.