Raven pulled up one of the chairs in front of his desk and started sorting out all the papers and chips. Using the skills she had learned at Waxman’s command, she began to bring some order out of the seeming chaos. By lunchtime Gomez was actually grinning happily.
Smiling back at him, Raven suggested, “Why don’t you go take a shower and get into some clean clothes, Tómas? Then we can have lunch together.”
The astronomer looked stricken. “I must smell pretty bad, huh?”
“I’ve smelled worse,” Raven said. “But you do need a shower and a change of clothes.”
He scrambled out of his desk chair. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll get to it right away.”
And he scurried to the bedroom like an embarrassed teenager. Raven saw that his bed was covered with still more chips and printouts. She smiled at his back as he dashed through the door, then she turned to her work again.
The data she worked with meant nothing to her. Only numbers and alphabetical designations. But she sorted them patiently as her mind drifted to Evan Waxman and his expectations, his demands.
Evan won’t willingly let me out of his control, she knew. How can I make him believe I’m still under his domination without actually giving in to him?
She realized she’d already taken the first step. The nose filters will protect me from breathing in Rust, she knew. Evan won’t like it but there’s nothing he can do about it, not without violence.
Raven had known violence in her earlier life. She’d been beaten and savaged by some of the meanest, toughest thugs of Naples’s dark underworld. She’d survived, but only at the cost of convincing one hood after another that she was willing to do anything for his pleasure.
Evan’s not like that, she understood. He’s smarter. And meaner. Rust is his perfect weapon. It doesn’t harm its victims—except in their minds.
Rust creates fantasies. It makes its victims live out those fantasies in their imaginations. No physical damage. But she remembered the pain of the whips, her helpless agony when the men were having their fun with her.
And somehow Evan participates in those fantasies. He takes part in them. He enjoys them. He invades my mind and plays with me. While I do whatever he wants me to do.
There’s got to be a way out of this, she told herself. There’s got to be an escape route, a countermeasure that I can use to protect myself.
The only countermeasure she could think of was refusal. Refusal to take the Rust. Refusal to play Evan’s game, refusal to allow him to play with her.
But that path led to danger, she knew. He could overpower me easily enough. The imaginary “friends” that he used to work me over could be replaced by real, actual men. And then where would she be?
She was still struggling with that question when Tómas came back into the cluttered living room, glowingly clean, beaming from ear to ear.
DECISIONS
Evan Waxman sat at his desk, also thinking about his relationship with Raven.
She’s only one woman, he told himself. Why worry about her? There are plenty of others. But he kept thinking of how exciting, how wonderfully abandoned she was under the influence of Rust. She’d do anything, and ask for more.
So what? he asked. So was Alicia, back when we started. And a dozen others. Don’t get your life snarled around one woman. There are plenty of others, and more coming in on every shipload that arrives here.
Almost, he convinced himself. Almost.
But then he thought, If I let Raven walk away from me, what message does that send to Alicia and all the others? I’m in charge here, goddammit! They do what I want them to do, or else. If I let Raven walk away, then others will try to follow.
I can’t allow that, Waxman told himself. I’ve got to bring her back under my control. Totally. She doesn’t leave me until I’m finished with her. And it’s got to be done so that all the other little slashes see it and know it and understand that I tell them what to do and they do it.
I’m not going to allow Raven or any other of these available twats to get away from me. There’s only one way out for them. Like that big oaf O’Donnell. The only freedom they’ll ever find is death.
Nodding to himself, he called to his intercom, “Alicia.”
She slid his office door open immediately.
Waxman smiled at her. That’s the kind of response I want, he told himself. I call and she comes.
“Yes, Mr. Waxman?” Alicia asked from the doorway.
Gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk, he said, “Come in. Sit down.”
Alicia did as she was told.
Waxman studied her gaunt face for a silent moment.
Then, “How friendly are you with Raven Marchesi?”
Alicia’s eyes flashed wide for a moment. Alarm? Waxman asked himself. The question had startled her.
Swiftly composing herself, Alicia answered, “I had dinner with her once, in her quarters.”
“You two get along well?”
“Well enough.”
Waxman went silent for several heartbeats. Then he slid open one of his desk drawers and pulled out the half-empty plastic vial of Rust.
“You know what this is, of course,” he said.
Alicia stiffened slightly. “Rust.”
Dangling the tiny vial between two fingers, Waxman asked, “Do you think you could get into Raven’s quarters and sprinkle this inside her refrigerator? Without her knowing it, of course.”
Alicia Polanyi stared at the vial hanging from Waxman’s fingers, her lips pressed together into a thin bloodless line. He smiled at her. How long has it been since our last session with this stuff? Waxman asked her silently. Months. And it still has its pull. She’s staring at it like a starving man gazing at a full-course dinner.
“It took several weeks for the medical team to clean that junk out of my system,” Alicia said.
“I know,” Waxman responded. “But I’m told you’ve requisitioned nose filters for yourself, so there’s no danger of your inhaling any of it.”
Alicia couldn’t take her eyes off the tiny plastic tube half filled with the reddish narcotic. But something was going on behind those ice-blue eyes, Waxman saw. Something was churning in her mind.
“Well?” he prodded.
“I… I’d rather not have anything to do with it, if you don’t mind.”
“But I do mind, Alicia. I mind very much. I want you to do me this favor. You’ll be perfectly safe, I promise you.”
She finally shifted her gaze to Waxman’s slyly smiling face.
“And what do I get in return?”
Waxman leaned back in his sculpted chair. “Ah. The old quid pro quo.”
Alicia said nothing.
Almost laughing, Waxman said, “Well. I won’t offer you another Rust trip. That would be too cruel, after all your hard work to get over your addiction.”
She nodded silently.
“What would you like? What can I offer you?”
“I… I’ll have to think about that.”
Spreading his arms wide, Waxman said, “Name your price. Anything in this habitat that you want.”
“I’ll think about it,” Alicia repeated. “This is a surprise.”
His smile disappearing, Waxman said, “Well, think quickly. I want your answer before the end of the day.”
“Yes, sir,” Alicia said. And she got up from the chair and hurried to the outer office, leaving Waxman staring at the door sliding shut between them.
Alicia sat at her desk, her thoughts spinning. Anything in this habitat that you want, he said. Anything. She knew what she really wanted. She wanted to be away from Evan Waxman and his cruelly smiling face, his lustful hands, his filthy pleasures. She wanted to be back on Earth, free, rich enough to live as she wished, where she wished.