Consummation

Giselle led Jack into a back room with a low metal table in its center. “Strip,” she said tonelessly. “Put your things in the basket in the corner.”



Jack couldn’t understand why the woman was being so harsh. They were both slaves. They were in the same boat. Why wouldn’t slaves stick together?



“May I ask a question?” she said softly, trying to seem inoffensive.



“I suppose so,” Giselle responded.



“What’s going on? Who are you? Where am I?”



“That’s three questions, you know.”



Jack winced. So it was. In her mind it was all part of the same thing, but apparently in this new world there were no generalities when it came to being a slave.



To her surprise, Giselle responded. While her voice wasn’t exactly warm, it was less… monochromatic. “You really have no idea, do you?”



Jack miserable shook her head. “Please… at least explain things to me,” she whispered.



“Finish getting undressed.”



Jack’s heart sank. Apparently there would be no help from Giselle.



However, after a few moments, Giselle spoke up again.



“The Master here is a trader. The most powerful trader on this part of Uburi. He’s going to sell you. Who he can sell you to depends entirely on yourself. Did the one who brought you here at least explain the basic rules to you?”



Jack nodded. “Eyes down. Speak only when spoken to. Obey everything without hesitation,” she recited.



Giselle nodded, looking relieved. “See that you remember.” She gestured again for Jack to put her things in the basket. As much as she loathed the idea of being naked yet again, she obeyed. To fight would just cause more problems. Giselle went on, “You must behave yourself. You’re entirely too old to have no training. Did the one who brought you buy you from someone?”



Jack shook her head. “No,” she answered, trying to block out the image of Riddick lying dead on the floor of the ship. She wondered where the frozen spell she had been under had gone. It was as though being yanked from everything familiar again, yet treated with a measure of kindness, at least at first, snapped her out of her near-traumatized fog. She didn’t know how it had happened, but she was grateful it had. She felt wiser now, in a way, and more able to deal with what was going on around her.



“No? Well, where did he get you then?” Jack met her gaze, the ice chips that were her eyes, and swore she saw them melt. “You were stolen, weren’t you?” Giselle asked.



Jack nodded.



“From home? Or from another owner?" She answered herself, "Well, it must have been from home. Why else would you have had no training?" It seemed to Jack that Giselle was just musing to herself, so she kept silent. "Oh, I can’t believe Mark would accept a fresh slave. Of course, nothing is definite until you’ve been paid for. How old are you?”



The casual use of Bentley’s first name was not lost on Jack, but she didn’t know what to make of it. In a moment the question caught up with her. “Seventeen.”



“Seventeen. My God.”



Jack didn’t know quite what the big deal was. Suddenly she wished that she had paid attention at the Registry Office. Had they claimed to have stolen her from home, or bought her from a reputable trader, or maybe another owner? What should she say? She didn’t want to blow Riddick’s cover… the bastard that he was.



He’s dead. I can say anything about him now.



Those and similar thoughts still hurt, but they brought less pain than they had. She wondered if it were a form of Stockholm Syndrome. It confused her. If only he hadn’t tried to… do what he did. If only he hadn’t crossed that line. Had she invited him across the line somehow?



Shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of these thoughts, Jack spoke up. “Actually, I was kidnapped a few weeks ago. I was asleep… all of a sudden these men were in his—my—our room, and then they shot me with some tranquilizer darts. My old… owner… didn’t do much training at all.” She shrugged. “I don’t know anything, really.”



Giselle frowned. “Hm. This does present a problem. Well, come on. You’ve got to be examined. Hop on. It will get worked out later.”



Jack gasped as the freezing metal came into contact with her skin. “Why? What is this?”



For some reason the speaking taboo seemed to have been lifted, because Giselle didn’t even frown at her. “It’s a scanner. It gives information about your health and physical condition.”



“Aren’t they the same thing?” Jack asked.



“Health involves disease and illness. Physical condition makes sure there are no previously injured areas that would present a problem in the mines.”



“Mines? Am I going to the mines?” Jack lurched up from her uncomfortable metal bed in a panic, and Giselle pushed her back down impersonally.



“Lie down. I doubt you’re going to the mines. You’re too pretty for that. It all depends on how well you accept training, though. It’s so much harder to break older slaves.” These last words seemed to have been spoken to herself, which only made them all the more chilling. Break slaves?



The term made her think. Riddick hadn’t broken her, had he? He’s fucked with her head and even cut her, but… that was just Riddick. When he tried to rape her… he’d stopped, hadn’t he? It was just too much, too fast, and that had been the final straw. He’d given her nothing but pain. But surely that was better than this world of formality and servitude? Ah, fuck. She just didn’t know.



Giselle manipulated a few buttons and then said, “Hold still.”



Jack was grateful for the warning, because a beam of light suddenly hissed to life. She had to suppress a start of surprise. Beginning at her head, it made its way down her head, shoulders, and torso, all the way down to her toes. Suddenly it reversed direction and scanned her body going the other way, stopping again at her head.



“Good. Step down.” Jack did so and headed for the basket for her clothes. Giselle snapped, her voice hard again, “What are you doing? Did I tell you to do that? Your training is starting right now, so act like it. Stay right there.”



“Are you a trainer?” Jack asked. As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them.



“No, I am not a trainer. I am trying to give you a little help, because you need all the help you can get, little girl. What’s the rule about speaking?” Her voice was like ice, and her eyes reflected her voice.



“Um… uh… only speak when spoken to?” Jack responded shakily, shocked by the sudden switch in Giselle’s demeanor.



“No. The rule is, speak only when asked a direct question.” Her reprimand was punctuated with another harsh slap across the face.



Even Riddick hadn’t been this handy with the physical punishments.

Horrible images of whippings and beatings suddenly rushed into her mind, and Jack started to shake. Her hands were trembling.



“Do you understand?”



“Y-yes,” Jack replied, biting her lip. She wanted to add an apology to her response, but had a feeling that it wouldn’t be well-received.



“Good. Normally you would respond with a ‘ma’am’ or a ‘sir,’ but I don’t have that title. See that you remember that. Politeness and general manners are the most telling things about a slave.”



Jack nodded. She didn’t even allow herself the thought that this might not be permanent. Sure, it was great to hope, but it was also good to be practical. Her worst nightmare had come true. She was no longer with anyone familiar. No, instead she was tossed into a world she didn’t know, had barely even heard of, and had no hope of escaping. Riddick couldn’t come save her. She was alone.