By Katarite
Part 1
She was just a girl, or so Beka thought. If she were human Beka would have placed her somewhere between sixteen and nineteen years old. She couldn't be sure though, because the girl was anything but human. If her skin, shimmering purple in the dim and candle-lit showroom, wasn't testament enough, a long, pointed tail dragged along the floor behind her as she moved from one table to another to prove she wasn't. At each table she would either tap an order into a small computer around her wrist, or place a beverage on the table in front of one patron or another, sometimes using her tail as another hand to aid her. Human or not, she was certainly too young to be serving drinks and semi-fancy meals in an establishment like Ariano's.
The club Beka found herself in catered to Segway Drift's richer male clientele, their mistresses, their business partners, and the occasional woman who wanted to spend the evening amongst the richest of the rich and didn't mind a healthy showing of bare skin on the poor girls who served refreshments and performed on stage. It was cleaner than most places, with several small round tables draped in white and arced around a low stage. The center of each table held a lit candle, and the settings included crystal clear wine glasses and linen napkins, burgundy in color. The chairs were shaped out of metal not wood, but they were padded and upholstered in some sort of dark, leather-like, material. It was certainly not the sort of place Beka could afford, and wasn't someplace she would frequent if she could.
"What do you think?" Greg Neiman, a handsome middle-aged man asked her. He was tall with dark hair and chiseled features. His clothing was tailored specifically to his body and was a testimony to his riches. He certainly looked striking in a crisp white shirt and black pinstripe suite, but Beka wasn't about to let his good looks lure her into a false sense of security. He was a dangerous potential client who was willing to pay off one of Ignacious Valentine's creditors in exchange for a job. She could only assume he'd brought her here to intimidate her with his wealth and power. It was working, but only a little bit. She didn't scare easily.
"It's, um, nice," she replied, tactfully leaving out how repulsive she found the idea of being served by girls who were no more than slaves to Ariano, the owner. It wasn't slavery in the most ancient form. The proper term was probably indentured servant, but the distinction meant little to Beka, especially as she watched the purple girl sidestep a supposed gentleman's groping hands. As far as Beka could tell, she was the youngest server here. Places like this generally favored older women since they were more reliable and less of a liability on a drift like Segway where there were laws meant to protect young girls from harm. Given the girl's exotic features, it was no surprise that the possibility of expensive litigation was ignored. She was a novelty that would keep men coming back for more.
She disappeared into the back room and came out a moment later empty-handed and began to approach their table. Beka hadn't been able to make out her costume clearly from across the room, but now she could see that she was wearing a colorful halter-top that stopped a few inches above her hips and was decked out with golden embroidery, and golden thigh-length skirt that seemed to be made of various pieces of flower-petal shaped cloth. The outfit was constructed with expensive materials and was obviously well made, but it was a slave's outfit none-the-less. When she moved, the skirt parted, showing off shapely legs. She was small and slender with the sort of delicately sculpted stomach that only teenagers could pull off. Up close, her skin sparkled as if someone had spilled a crate of glitter over her. She wore dozens of tiny clips in her short blonde hair, and her eyes were painted heavily. She smiled softly as she stopped at Beka's table. Not surprisingly, the smile didn't reach her incredibly dark eyes.
"My name is Trance, and I will be serving you exclusively this evening," she said, giving Greg a deep curtsy. She had a soft and gentle voice that seemed almost child-like to Beka. Everything about her seemed so despite her location and rousing dress. Greg grinned at her lasciviously and Beka knew he had to have requested her services in advance and had paid good money for them. It was almost certain that Trance's obligations to him would carry on well beyond supper, and it made her stomach turn.It wasn't as if she were a bleeding heart who worried over every sorry case she ran across. In truth, this girl's situation could be a lot worst. She wore nice clothing, probably ate well, and likely had her own quarters on the drift. She was slave to a rich man, and served other rich men, which meant she didn't have to deal with the crude comments of the usual riff-raff that populated drifts like Segway. In fact, she probably didn't have to mingle with them at all. Men like Ariano guarded their property well and treated it with care, as did those who borrowed that property. If she had been here very long, she was probably quite sheltered in almost every aspect of her life. That didn't mean she'd never been on the streets or subjected to the terrors young girls could face out there, but she was safe for now. Many girls were not so lucky and Beka came across at least a half-a-dozen who were worst-off almost every day, however something about this girl drew Beka to her. Perhaps it was the air of innocence around her, or her obvious uniqueness, or the look in her eyes that said she was far more than a slave, but Beka couldn't help but feel for her.
"Hi, Trance," she replied, giving as warm a smile as she could muster, "My name is Beka Valentine." Trance took a step towards her and curtsied again. Beka caught the pleasing scent of earth and sweet flowers wafting off of her; it was warm and natural, something that could not be found in a bottle. She wanted to put a hand beneath the girl's bowed chin, raise it up until their eyes met, and tell her to forget about the false pleasantries-- the bowing and the scraping, but she knew it would be a waste of breath. In Trance's world, the option didn't even exist.
"May I get you anything to drink?" the girl asked as she straightened her body. She kept her eyes down towards the carpeted deck, as was proper for someone in her station.
"I'll have a double scotch." Greg answered right away. Trance tapped a couple of buttons on her wrist unit and then glanced at Beka.
"And for you?" Beka did not drink at all, much less on the job. Establishments like this did not offer much by way of non-alcoholic beverages. It defeated the purpose. A cursory glance around the room showed that most of the women present were daintily sipping on wines that ranged from a delicate pink to blood red, or fruity drinks with pretty garnishes. She gave Trance another friendly smile and said,
"If you have any sort of iced tea, I'll take that. Or coffee." The girl returned her smile with a small closed-lip smile of her own. "And, while you're back there, you should get yourself something, since you'll be sitting out here with us all night." The girl lifted her eyes just long enough for Beka to see a spark of happiness flash through them before returning to her submissive stance. Greg gave Beka a strange look, which she ignored. She knew enough to know that it wasn't all that unusual to invite a slave to sip on a drink during mealtime, so long as she didn't ignore her duties. Her father had been entertained in such a fashion by potential clients before, and she'd listened to him tell the crew his stories when they assumed she was tucked quietly in bed.
"I think I can do that." Before Beka could even say thank you, the girl had turned around and was gracefully making her way back into the kitchen, tail dragging behind her. Greg watched her go, his eyes lingering on her tailed behind. Beka resisted the urge to punch him out right then and there. It was an unfortunate truth that she needed creeps like him to keep from going under. She had mouths to feed.
Once Trance had vanished behind a set of swinging black doors, Greg turned to her. He shook out his elaborately folded napkin and began to twist it in his hands, not in the quick movements of the nervous, but slowly and deliberately. His eyes, as brown as an oaken desk, were as hard as wood as well. His expression had changed from lustful to pure business in an instant. Beka knew these types well. They were all about the power their money gave them.
"So, can you do the job?" he asked. The job in question was a cargo run through pirate-infested space to supposedly drop computers and medical supplies in a system torn apart by war. She had her doubts about the legitimacy of the cargo since he was willing to pay an awful lot for her to carry it, and he wasn't known for making his riches in a strictly legal fashion, but it didn't matter too much. She had dealt with stolen goods before. The trick was to get in, drop off the cargo so he could receive Good Samaritan points that kept the public and whatever passed for law enforcement these days looking the other way while he dealt below the belt the rest of the time, and get out with enough money to feed her small crew and keep her ship going for another month or two.
"I can do it, but like I already told you, I'm short an Environmental Systems and Artificial Gravity officer. I won't head into hostile territory without one." He set down his napkin and nodded once.
"I can take care of that for you." Beka leaned in and gave him a wry smile. He wasn't going to get the best of Captain Valentine.
"Can you? My crew is important to me, and I don't let just anyone on it."
"You'll have your choice out of several of my best men and women," he said.
"Is that so?" Beka asked as she set her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together. She lowered her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "What if I don't like my choices?" He leaned forward as well until their noses were almost brushing against each other. His breath smelled of hours old alcohol, probably left over from lunch. She stayed put.
"Then you had better rethink how you are going to pay back your debts." They sat there locked in a sort of staring contest until the sound of someone clearing her throat interrupted them. Beka looked up to see Trance standing before them with a tray balanced on one arm and a nervous smile on her face.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said as she placed a cup of iced tea with a piece of fruit on the rim in front of Beka, and Greg's scotch in front of him. She promptly took their meal orders and returned with their appetizers, small soups and salads, just as dancing girls appeared on stage, swaying their scantily clad bodies to lurid music. Trance kneeled down beside Greg as she was ordered and sipped some sort of clear liquid, her eyes alternating between the stage and her clients. She was attentive. As soon as the appetizers were finished she quietly rose, cleared the dishes, and returned with their meals. Beka had ordered some sort of steak that came on a fancy plate with rice and some sort of mixed vegetables. Everything was arranged as prettily as possible, as if her meal were a sculpture in an art museum. It seemed almost a shame to ruin it to someone who usually received her food in any way, shape, or form she could get it. She must have stared at it for a long time because the girl asked,
"Is it all right Captain Valentine? I could get you something else." Beka shook her head and smiled, scooping up some of the starch on her fork.
"It's great," she said and placed the food in her mouth to prove her point. It was delicious. Trance watched her for a moment before taking her place at Greg's side again. Beka could feel those dark eyes on her time and time again while Greg laid out the details of the job, occasionally competing with the show's loud music. No surprise, the girl had taken an interest in her. She figured that the Trance would remember her after tonight as the strange woman who was kind to her, but somehow, as Beka watched Trance try to keep her expression neutral while Greg ran his fingers through her blonde curls, it didn't seem to be enough.
The night dragged on, they finished their meals, and after a while Greg seemed to forget her presence as he became more increasingly intoxicated and interested in the stage show. Beka was bored and more than a little disgusted, but it would be in bad form to leave now. As a rule, one left with their potential employer, and not a moment before. At least tonight she would be walking away. The deal was set and there was no need for any more collateral as was the case in many deals, and that was great, because Greg was not the sort of man whose flaws she could forget in the heat of passion. Trance would not be so lucky.
She let her eyes wander from the dancers on stage, which were actually quite talented, to Trance. Greg whispered something to the girl and she smiled sweetly, playing her part well, but there was a look in her eyes that Beka understood better than most. She let her eyes wander from the girl's face, trying to find her hands. She girl was sitting on her knees beside Greg with one hand his knee and the other holding a glass she'd been sipping on all night. That wasn't right. She studied the girl closer; occasionally glancing at Greg to make sure he hadn't noticed her scrutiny. Beka knew that look and knew what it implied. She had grown up around it. She had to stifle a gasp as she found what she was looking for.
While Trance spoke to Greg, drawing circles on his knee suggestively with one finger, her tail slipped into the pocket of his custom tailored suite, drawing out a small bag, no doubt filled with thrones. As a kid, Beka had done her fair share of pick pocketing, had taught her brother how, and had on occasion needed to punish her young engineer, Seamus Harper, for doing so when the extra income wasn't necessarily needed. She was so enthralled by the skill Trance exhibited that she had forgotten to shift her gaze, drawing the attention of her future employer. Being a starship captain and pilot meant Beka was no novice when it came to thinking on her feet. She turned abruptly as if she'd just thought of something important and knocked over the full glass of tea Trance had refilled a few minutes before. The liquid spilled across the table and flowed over into her lap, its iciness seeping through the fabric of her trousers.
Trance gasped and leaped up, grabbing a napkin off the tabletop and throwing it over the mess. It was saturated in a matter of seconds, barely making a dent. Beka felt something hit her foot and glanced down to see the small bag resting there. She made a show of bending down with her napkin to clean the tea off her lap and discretely picked it up, placing it in her pocket.
"I am so sorry!" she exclaimed, keeping up with the act. The floor manager, a monster of a man, was heading towards their table while Trance stole napkins off the empty one next to them in an attempt to clean things up. She managed to get the table dry just as the manager grabbed onto her slender arm and dragged her off into a darkened corner. Trance winced in pain at his grip but followed with no argument, having to take two steps for the manager's every one. Unfortunately, Trance would be punished for this even though it was clearly Beka's fault. That was the way of things. Beka watched guiltily out of the corner of her eye as Trance frantically tried to explain things to the large man and received a slap across the face for her efforts. A glare like none other Beka had ever seen passed over the girl's face before she instantly schooled her expression into one of docility.
"She should not have placed things so close together, but she is still so young, so I suppose it is excusable. Are you all right, Beka?" Greg asked, automatically placing the blame on Trance's shoulders. She didn't remember giving him permission to use her first name. Men like him were bigots, all of them. Her answer was a definite no. She was not all right. She was cold, wet, and feeling as guilty as hell, and did not want to even look at Greg anymore. Not to mention she had to see a man about some supplies in just a couple of hours and wanted some time to clean up beforehand. However, she bit her tongue and said as sweetly as possible,
"I know you brought me here and everything, but I really do have an early day tomorrow, and would like to turn in for the night." Trance returned with a young boy at her heals holding a bucket that she cleared dishes and wet napkins into, keeping her eyes downcast. Her tail seemed to droop and Beka could almost make out a handprint on her cheek.
"No problem. I can understand." He reached into his pocket and Beka had to stifle a satisfied smile when he came up empty-handed and confused. "I seem to have misplaced my cash, Trance, could you credit this meal to my account and I will settle the bill later." She nodded submissively and tapped some commands into her wrist unit. Beka could feel the bag of thrones heavy in her pocket. She would have to find Trance tomorrow, but for now she had to get out of here and away from Greg.
"Everything is taken care of, sir." Trance said in her small voice.
"Wonderful. I have a few things to take care of, but I will see you in my quarters in a couple of hours, huh?" He patted her cheek, and Beka could tell how crestfallen Trance was by the way she held herself, but the girl knew her roll and smiled sweetly.
"I will be waiting," she said before curtsying a good night and walking away, swaying her hips suggestively.
"May I walk you to your ship?" Greg asked. Beka forced a smile and shook her head.
"I'll be fine, thanks," she said and walked away as quickly as she could without seeming rude.