Doctor Who Panic Moon Ch 34

Author's Note: This is a sequel series to Amy, Captured: to get the full experience, please read that one first.

Hi everyone, I'm back, and far more timely than usual. I'm back into the swing of things, writing-wise, which is saying something because I'm working on my second novel on top of Panic Moon, and a couple of other projects that I'm sure will interest a few of you at least, when they come to fruition. You'll be seeing a lot more of me in future, I hope.

As usual, if you like what you see, please do let me know any way you like, and otherwise, enjoy!

-Kurokami

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

'Well, I will admit: this is the most distracting setting for a negotiation I've ever been in.'

Sander sat across from Fiori in a room that was, at least, less open and more secure than his dais on the main floor. Even so, the deep, sonorous thud of music still penetrated the walls, the occasional whoop and cry from the club audible even over the chaos of sound beyond. One had to wonder at the kind of creature that could make a noise that loud.

But it was the other occupants of the room that caused the greater distraction.

Amy and Christina knelt at either side of Sander's seat, like concubines at the feet of a lord, leashed and fastened to clips set into the sides of the chair. Fiori's club seemed to have been built, from the ground up, specifically under the thesis that it would be used to contain slaves, and Sander was more than happy to take advantage of that. His captives were naked but for their collars, but he had become... accustomed to this, to some degree. Oh, he took some prurient delight in their nudity even so, but there was no

challenge

to it, no hunt necessary to merely reach out and take them.

Not so, for all the other slaves.

Fiori had his own retinue of four-uniformly female- slaves, two of which were hooked to the chair much as Amy and Christina were, and looking roughly as displeased about that as their counterparts on the other side. The other two stood at either side of his chair, tall and lithe and gorgeous, leaning on the back of their Master's seat, with masses of flowing dark hair atop their heads caressing skin the colour of lavender, etched with green tattoos of vines, curling up around their beautiful forms. Aliens rarely looked so appealing, even the collared varieties.

And even

they

were not the end of it...

'Distracting, perhaps,' Fiori said with a shrug, gesturing about the room. 'But undoubtedly more entertaining than some stuffy board room, is it not? Not to mention, far more appropriate, given the content of our negotiations.'

'True enough,' Sander said, his eyes going to the far side of the room to their meeting setup, wherein a large cage sat, bars of shimmering red energy keeping its contents within. Women and men, of varying sizes and shapes, but uniform in species, were contained there, huddling in the centre of the cage but, perhaps strangely, seemingly unafraid of their situation. Serene interest crested every face, placid calm suffusing every attractive naked body, as they wore their collars- black leather rather than the more common command collars- as though they had been born to them.

Amy and Christina occasionally looked toward the cage, and the mix of trepidation and interest with which they did so was perfectly apparent, especially to Sander's well trained eye. It was understandable, he supposed; after all, he had dragged the both of them here, back through the streets, directly from the construction site in which he had recaptured Christina. Of course they would be concerned at the next part of his plan, given the... ardour, with which he had conducted himself thus far; they had made him angry, and perhaps fearing the consequences of that was prudent, if ultimately ineffective at saving them from whatever fate he had in store for them.

Happily then- if Sander were to deign to tell them this, which was

not

something he had on the cards- what he intended to do here had little, if anything, to do with his captives.

'Of course, I doubt there's much to actually negotiate, is there?' Sander continued, tilting his head. 'After all, we've rather sorted it out ahead of time. If anything, this is just an exchange of goods: thirty slaves from the Venate Schism training grounds, and a prime piece of real estate, of no less than five hundred square miles, of the same from me...'

And here Sander stood, allowed his hands to land on each of the nude girls beside him, tousling their hair to their great irritation.

'And from you, the lady to my right, special rights to the Chrysanthemum Guild's correctional facilities, and... well, the rest.'

"The rest," had been rather hard to come by, given its highly specific and idiosyncratic value to its owner. Getting Fiori to shift on this issue, to give Sander what he wanted, had taken a great deal of care and planning, all undertaken within a very short length of time. The last few days especially had been a high speed dash around the city, negotiating terms and gathering resources to entice the underworld figure into going along with Sander's plan.

He frowned; all this work, in service to what was essentially one big gamble. Who knew whether it would pay off? Well, he supposed he would have to wait and see.

'Yes, the rest,' Fiori nodded dispassionately, before reaching for a tablet computer that had been offered to him by one of his girls. 'Well, allow me to transfer the girl's ownership data over to you. You'll have her legally this time, though your... new acquisition does raise some questions too. You picked her up literally in the time it took you to come back from... wherever you went with Pond?'

'Heh, yeah,' Sander grinned. 'That's a long story. And not one that's particularly entertaining to retell, I think. Let's not waste all day recounting the exploits of our rebellious slaves, yes? I'm sure you can gather from what I'm buying from you, but I have kind of a busy day on the cards. I'd like to get on with that.'

'Yes, of course,' Fiori shrugged. 'I'm in the same boat, I suppose. You'll find the Guild will let you in when you flash your credentials, and you'll have access to all the most useful rooms there. Don't hesitate to contact me if they give you any trouble at the door; I'm more than capable of opening your way. I'm one of their best customers, after all.'

'A fact which makes me infinitely jealous,' Sander said, standing and tugging the pair of leashes from their posts hitched to the chair, nonchalantly dragging Amy and Christina to their feet. The brunette gave a wordless growl and opened her mouth to speak, but Sander got there first, 'I could always leave you here, my dear. I'd probably even just give you up as a freebie!'

She shut her mouth, but didn't hesitate to stare daggers at her captor, eyes harsh and sparkling, teeth clenched. The kind of fury she displayed was undercut, however, by her nudity and the submissive note of her collar, chain leash leading from a clip at the front to Sander's hand. It was the work of but a moment for him to jerk it, the sudden movement choking her and simultaneously putting her off balance, sending the once graceful master thief into a stumbling coughing fit.

'Come along, ladies. There's some things we need to get

straight

around here.'

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

As promised, all doors had been open to Sander upon approach to the Chrysanthemum Guild's premises. Within the confines of Selestene Fiori's reach was truly impressive, and the three of them had been ushered within the labyrinthine compound almost immediately, the girls following in Sander's wake as they descended into the depths of the place.

The occasional interesting sight plucked at their attentions, through some open door or down some side corridor in a flash of movement suggestive of some far greater, perverse scenario just beyond their chosen path. A whip cracked down through the sliver of a room visible through a partly ajar door, impacting on an equally visible pair of buttocks, close to the floor at the terminus of an arched back. A chain of women, leashed together, walked single file down the hallway Sander

didn't

head down at a split in the path. The temptation to stop and watch was almost overwhelming at some points to him, but there was business to be done, and he wasn't to be delayed.

This was fortunate for the girls, as the trepidation mounting on their features at each new distraction was entirely too obvious.

Eventually they reached a larger set of doors at the end of a corridor, denuded of alternate pathways and ringed with security devices, some of which Sander recognized, and some he could only guess at. It was rare to find a security system beyond his knowledge, after all the Hackett family had been producing such technology for generations, and Sander wasn't eager to find out what functions these mysterious machines performed; if he didn't know what it did, it couldn't be good.

The doors opened at his touch, and he knew from experience that even this simple act carried with it myriad scans and mechanical processes behind the scenes, all performed within the scant few seconds it took him to reach out. The technology behind this place was actually a little frightening, when one considered the things it was being applied to.

Dulcimer sat behind the door, cross legged in the middle of the floor, her simple white dress arrayed around her in creaseless perfection. Behind her was a curved wall, upon which a number of doors fanned out, ironclad and covered with the same crawling vines of surveillance devices that covered the door that had just opened.

'

Ah, you've arrived,

' The alien spoke, in her strange internal voice, getting to her feet as she caught sight- in a weirdly non-literal sense, given her lack of eyes- of Sander. '

So happy you didn't keep me waiting for long. Everything is set up, just as you asked, Sander. Leave the girl to me, and I'll contact you once I've found something worth using.'

'Straight to business as always,' Sander nodded. 'That's what I like about you, Heskelyn. You know what you're looking for, yes? It's not, you know, hard to guess at, given what this whole trip was all about, but you

get it,

right?'

'I do. Hand me the leash, Sander.'

'Okay, okay,' He shrugged, and held out Christina's leash. If he had been paying attention to the brunette at all, he would have seen the gradual, tectonic build up of anger beneath the surface of her, shifting in flits and spurts across her features and down her body, vented in the occasional clenched fist, tight muscle or downturned mouth. When Dulcimer took hold of the leash it could not be borne any longer, and with a stamp of her foot it exploded out of Christina in a painfully cultured exclamation.

'I am

not

going with this alien!' She scowled, both fists spontaneously clenching into fists fit for fighting.

'Oh, you're adorable,'

The alien said, slowly reeling the leash in with surprising strength, dragging Christina along inch by inch without any seeming undue strain.

'You really are. But come along, Miss de Souza. We have much work to do, and it won't get done if we sit here arguing about doing it.'

Christina began to speak again, uttered the first syllable of some protest or another, but Dulcimer's alien hand brushing across her forehead put a stop to that. The Dullahan's fingers moved in drifting, aimless patterns to begin with, feeling through the air until she made the scantest contact with the brunette's skin. It suddenly gained some new direction that, seemingly, hadn't been present before, her palm eclipsing Christina's forehead, fingers gripping in such a way as to hold on, even as the thief jerked in surprise, and fell silent.

Christina's eyes unfocused, her muscles unwound, her body went slack. All at once, the fight went out of her, as well as seemingly everything else. Carefully, always maintaining her contact with the woman, Dulcimer guided Christina down to the floor, where she sat cross legged, limbs moving with robotic precision.

'Alright, I have her,'

Dulcimer sent, taking her own place on the floor beside Christina, her arm bridging the space between the two of them.

'She's not going anywhere now. She's... elsewhere. I'll let you know where, exactly, once I've had a good peek around her head. But everything is fine here now, you go ahead and do what you need to do, Sander. This might take a while.'

'Thanks for the help, Dulsie,' Sander nodded and turned on his heel, tugging Amy's leash over his shoulder to lead her back out the way they had come. 'It's a busy day, and only half done, so I'm off. Give me a call when you're done.'

'Oh, I will,'

She replied, a note of eagerness in her voice. As Sander began to walk away, she turned to fully face Christina, leaning in with a sense of impending discovery,

'Okay Lady de Souza, let's see what you have for me...'

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

Sirens blared in the distance, emergency lights daubing the walls and road in blinking, brilliant blue and red. The sounds of conversation, muffled by distance and the sheer number of voices on display, drifted into the mouth of the alleyway, and into her ears.

She grinned, but mostly, Christina just listened to the pounding of her heart.

This was what it was all about, the sort of moment she lived for. The chill of the night air leaching through her clothes, blood singing through her veins, and a black bag slung over her shoulder, laden with ill-gotten valuables. If she was caught with it, that would be it, and the police milled about just beyond the rim of the alley, traversing the entrance of her latest... business venture- in this case the home of some obscenely rich art collector or another- as she waited. Every second she lingered there increased the risk that she would be caught, gave those men in uniform another chance to stray down the road some, to catch sight of her and give chase. Her entire life could be ruined, by the moments she spent here basking.

It was the greatest feeling in the world.

'Hi.'

The word had been spoken in a low, quiet voice, but it cracked through Christina's calm like nothing else could, ringing through her little personal world like a bell. It drowned out even the sirens, the chattering of law enforcement, drowning out the world. She was supposed to be alone.

Christina's eyes automatically went to the street, darted out into the open, in a desperate search for the interloper, the cop who had found her, anyone from which she could flee. She found nothing. The rush of movement didn't stop, she whirled, a curtain of dark hair following in her wake as she spun. Well trained eyes took in the whole of the alley, catching individual details even in the rapidity of her motion; an open window there, a darkened doorway here...

And a man, standing half in shadow toward the other end of the alley, looking right at her.

'Best be quiet, love,' His voice was hushed, and tinged with a definite working class accent. 'Lots of hubbub out there, and I spy a girl in black hefting a satchel like that? I have to think they're here for you. Don't want to make much noise if that's so, eh?'

'Yes, I-' She began, eyes scanning for some way past the man, some sign that if she ran she wouldn't be stopped.

'Stay where you are now, love,' The stranger's hands rose in an almost conciliatory fashion, but his eyes betrayed no hint of concern. Quite the contrary; in reality he wore an expression that was all too familiar to Christina, that look one gets when the other person in the room- or alley, as the case may be- has been caught dead to rights, and both parties know it.

In short, it was the expression of one with power. An expression that Christina had been subjected to far too many times in her adult life.

'Wouldn't take much,' The stranger continued ruminatively, sliding both his hands into his pockets as he strolled forward, as if he had all the time in the world. 'Just a little noise. A raised voice, or the sound of someone getting attacked... Now, how fast d'you think you'd need to be, there?'

'Too fast,' Christina actually felt any warmth that might have been left in her voice leaching out of it. She glared, never taking her eyes off of the interloper as he drew closer, and finally stopped in front of her. He loomed over her despite her own tall frame, and when he reached out with both hands and placed them, palms flat, on her hips, Christina felt herself helplessly shrinking.

'Far too fast,' She said tremulously, a flicker of doubt forming on the first word, only growing stronger, feeding on the situation through subsequent words. Fighting hard to keep what she was feeling from entering her gaze, Christina tilted her head to regard the man head on, challenging him with every fibre of her being. His face remained motionless, as if her defiance merely broke over and around him.

Not that it was ultimately worth much, in any case...

At any rate, her anger merely seemed to amuse him, as such emotions often did, when they were projected at the person in control. Power turned aggression from those without it into comedy, and right now, for more reasons than one, Christina was the best show going. Without fear or hesitation, the man, the stranger, lifted the dark hemline of her shirt up, exposing trembling bare flesh beneath, higher and higher, until the cups of her bra came into view.

'Consider this the payment you make for... whatever it is you did to get the fuzz over here, love,' The man said quietly, his eyes lowering to regard her body as he made a little ceremony of tugging her breasts out of her underwear, feeling the heft of them in the palm of his hand with not inconsiderable appreciation. As his thumb rounded the curve of one ale pink nipple, made shamefully hard by the chill in the air, he continued, 'When you think about it, it's pretty cheap, especially considering the treatment you'd get in prison...'

A fit of lecherousness spurted across his features, as that thought played itself out in his mind's eye. It seemed to appeal, but he didn't let it distract him; his thoughts rounded back to business almost immediately.

He placed a hand on top of her head.

'Now you just get down on the ground here, and we'll deal our little business transaction and you can be on your way, love.'

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

Dullahan couldn't sigh; sighing came with vocal chords, and those came with having a head, which their species did not. But that didn't mean they didn't have the desire to.

Dulcimer rocked back on her haunches, momentarily breaking contact between herself and Christina. There was something decidedly...

mundane,

about sifting through Christina's memories, and that was saying something, given that the alien's daily life was so far removed from the single-planet, 21st century society Christina inhabited. To a being living in a community of planets filled with telepathic aliens and time travel, the stuff Christina got up to was little more than the least interesting version of crime that Dulcimer could imagine.

'Well, that's a good start...'

She mused, after a moment.

'But I think we can do better.'

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

The manor was large, sprawling and immense. It wore its age on its sleeve.

Overhanging eaves cast long shadows on cracked tiles, long strands of dust hanging from the wooden support beams, visible only if one were to squint. Tall, imposing windows loomed, set into the walls from on high, just begging for a shadowy figure to glower down from the other side of them, but once one looked closely the thin patina of dirt became visible. Shrubs and plants lay sparsely foliaged in their garden beds, knots of grass and weeds protruding from beneath.