Daughter of the Gods

Major Ford said excitedly, " I've got them!"

Over the loud speaker came the voice of Lt. Colonel Andrews. "Good to hear from you guys. Thought you'd forgotten about us." He said. "Any chance we can come home now?"

"Roger that." Major General Murphy said with a relieved smile. "We'll shut her down and you open her up on your end. We'll be waiting for you."

There was what seemed to be a long period of silence on Andrews' end. "We'd love to sir, but we have a small problem."

"Oh, what's that?" Murphy inquired.

"Well, sir, geez, I don't know how to tell you this but Corporal Blood's gone missing. He's gone down into the town, Oz we call it. He left yesterday and hasn't come back. I sent Carlisle after him but I haven't heard from him either."

"Damn."

"What was that, sir? I couldn't quite hear you."

"Stay there. QG-A will come to you. Out." Major General Murphy turned his attention away from the loud speaker and toward the four members of QG-A. "You heard the man. We've got two team members missing. Now, we have no reason to think the inhabitants of P456X are hostile so there's no reason to go in with guns blazing. Just go, find them and bring them back. Understood?"

"Understood." Colonel MacNeill returned with a salute. "We'll bring 'em home, General, don't worry about that."

Stepping through the Gateway never failed to amaze every member of QG-A. One minute you were standing with your feet planted firmly on good old Mother Earth and the next, well, the next you just weren't. In the second or two that took to get from Earth to P456X, one was falling at the speed of light through a blue/purplish haze. Although they would each report a strong feeling of disconnectedness not just from each other but also from themselves, their individual experiences during that second or two were vastly different.

Lee always got the sensation of being wrapped tightly in a warm blanket. Richard felt a burning sensation, not on his skin, not exactly. No, what burned was some place deep in the pit of his stomach, a place where food would never reach. Dennis always felt as though he should be cold, he should be wet. He waited for those two sensations each time he traveled the wormhole to a new and interesting world but it never came. Crowen, who had ridden this ride more times than his compatriots had, did not really notice the second or two which passed by any more.

Falling, falling, down further and further, stuck on some wild astral roller coaster ride.

And then....

Feet planted firmly on the sod of P456X.

No one was wet. No one was cold. That burning sensation in Richard's stomach disappeared at once, as did Lee's blanket. Crowen stood stone-faced, as was his usual expression. Two members of QG-G came forward from the thicket of trees and greeted QG-A. Without much ceremony, QG-G led QG-A first to the caves where they had been living these past six weeks and then down the hillside toward the town.

"We have to hurry, it's getting dark. They close the gates when night falls. No one gets in or out." Lt. Col. Andrews reported to Colonel MacNeill. "Looks like there's some big to-do going on in Oz tonight."

"To-do?" Dennis inquired from behind as they made their way down the steep sandy hill. "Who are they?"

"Sorry, Dr. Johnson." Andrews muttered. "Didn't have time to relate to you what we've found." He stopped in his tracks for a moment, turned to Dennis and smiled, "You are going to love this."

"Am I?" Dennis asked with anticipatory surprise. Of course, Dennis had seen the strong hold once they reached the caves. One would have had to be blind to miss it. To Dennis the place QG-G had come to call Oz looked more like an ancient Celtic town. There were thatched huts and wooded houses within the walled fortress; he saw them from the ridge when Andrews was kind enough to allow him to use the binoculars. It was the castles' keep itself that interested Dennis most. It stood roughly three stories high, its thick stonewalls covered the back quarter of the courtyard and serving as an inner fortress. Three large turrets jutted out from the center at the roof. To him it looked like something straight out of King Arthur. Camelot, perhaps.

The inhabitants of this land were certainly not of upper European descent and that struck Dennis as very odd. Within the walled city of Oz, Dennis could see bonfires burning in the evening light. From his place on the hillside, he could clearly that there were six separate fires, five of which were burning in the shape of a five-pointed star. The sixth and biggest fire burned directly in the center of the star. No, not a star, but a pentacle, Dennis thought to himself as he watched the fires burn against the purple haze of the coming night. Some type of religious ceremony or rite was going on down in Oz tonight.

"Yep." Andrews agreed and then turned his back to the rest of them as he led them closer to Oz. A little further down the hill and Andrews stopped again. "All right, look, you've probably all noticed the skin tone of most of those people." He stopped talking, as he was afraid that his words were in some way racist.

"Yeah, I noticed." Richard agreed quickly. "We don't exactly blend in with the locals. What about Blood and Carlisle, they blend?"

"Blood's olive skinned but Carlisle's about as white as they come."

Richard turned to Dennis, the resident Cultural Expert, for his advice on the situation. "What do you suggest?"

"Let's go." There had been no thought given to his reply. The expression on his face told Richard that Dennis had no idea of why the question was asked of him and that Dennis was too excited to care. After all they hadn't had any problems on any of the other planets they had visited. "I'm sure they've seen a white person at some point. It's not like they're going to kill us for it." The words fell at a slow pace and Dennis continued to stare toward the walled city. It seemed that he could not turn away from it. Something was down there and he was eager to get to it

"Yeah, I guess not. Oh and Dr. Johnson, they have seen a white person before. They got one down there but they don't let her out very much." Andrews looked Dennis straight in the eye. "Not to mention the fact that there's, like, what, five maybe six hundred of them gathered down there for whatever it is they're doing. Do you still think we should just march right in?" Andrews motioned down at his own and then the rest of their military attire.

Dennis was still staring toward the town of Oz, which was now about a mile and a half away. Richard looked up at him waiting for him to answer. The blank expression on Dennis' face told him that no answer was coming. Nope, Dennis was not currently among them. He was in fact off in a world of his own. The blank stare said so. Richard doubted if Dennis had even heard what Andrews had said. Wanting to get his men out of Oz and the entire team home, he held up his own sub-machine gun "We got these, I'm sure we'll all play nice." Colonel MacNeill pushed past Lt. Colonel Andrews and began leading them toward town once more.

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

Corporal Blood spent most of the day wandering around among the townspeople, sampling food and wine and generally enjoying the festivities. Smiling people, dressed in what Blood assumed was their "Sunday best"; they danced to drum driven music as they sloshed wooden mugs full of alcohol together and spit a good measure of it into any of several bonfires that were burning in every direction. Although all appeared to be having a good time, to him it seemed as though the women of Oz were secondary citizens. Clad in skirts that hung to their ankles, each wearing a kerchief upon her head that was either white or blue, the women gathered in small packs here and there throughout the courtyard. Their faces hardened by years under the hot sun of this planet.

When the sun had sunk almost completely over the horizon, Kanan the King strolled into the courtyard from behind the double fortress that was his front door. The door to the castle keep was very special indeed; the inner door made of a thick wood that might have been mahogany was reinforced with hardened steel crossbars. Before that stood a wrought iron gate adorned with wolves heads and bear claws. Before that rather ominous looking gate stood two heavily armed guards. It was very clear that anyone going through those gates would invited inside, probably part of the Royal Court or something. In any case, they would not be just any peasant or serf. No, to get though there one had to have an invitation or be a member of, what he supposed was, the King's Court and Council.

The brawny dark-skinned leader of the world known as Tiberia strode past the wooden door, past the gates and the guards, all in the courtyard turned to gaze upon him and to bow or curtsey as he passed by them. He was a ruggedly handsome man who was regally dressed for this occasion in a suit of battle-hardened black leather and heavy chain mail. Thick waist length hair was wound in braids no wider than a small finger hung and swung from side to side as he walked by greeting his people and smiling as he went. Blood saw a reason for that broad white toothy grin, as behind Kanan the King walked a parade of about twenty scantily clad women. In one long and flirty procession they made their way through the winding courtyard where Kanan the King continued to do his politicking and up to the parade stand (Blood though that is what it was) which had been erected in front of the bon fire burning hotly in the center of the brownish/green courtyard.

With a large waving hand, Kanan the King, bid the women that followed him, all with flowers in their hair, to climb the steps onto the platform. Blood made his way through the crowd, which was hurriedly gathering at the base of it, he looked around just long enough to notice that only the men were making their way to the platform and to the front of the crowd. The women were gathered and visibly chatting with each other but they were hanging out in back. Whatever this was, Blood got the distinct feeling that the women of Oz were not going to be part of it. Not the townswomen anyway.

The women on the platform were clad in the same flimsy cloth, only the color of which varied. A long gauze strip of blue, purple or gold wrapped across their bosoms--most of which were more than merely ample-- and wound around their waists, hips and thighs. This makeshift dress ended just below the curve of each woman's buttocks. They danced around and around while the drum beat in the background. They laughed. They smiled. They teased the men in the crowd as they neared the front of the platform and skittered away just before they could be touched. Around and around in a hypnotic dance, hips gyrated and full firm buttocks danced. Breasts, some firm and some not, heaved and bounced to the present and increasing drumbeat. In the crowd, the men cheered, clapped and whistled their approval at the spectacle.

Kanan the King raised a hand and caught the eye of each member of his harem, the women stopped dancing. The drum ceased its beating. Kanans' hand descended and his gaze shifted to the direction in which he had come. The crowd parted and gave a wide berth.

With green eyes forward and her heart in her throat a small white skinned auburn haired woman, known to the members of QG-G as Dorothy, began to make her way down the path which her Lord and Master and lain for her. As she walked at a slow and deliberate pace, she made eye contact only with her Master. The rest of what was happening around her, in large part, went unnoticed. There was only Kanan standing by the platform with his hand held out to her and nothing else. Briefly, the warmth of his hand graced hers as she ascended the steps and took her own place on the raised area. Dorothy stood out from the crowd not only because of the pale color of her skin, but also by the clothing she was wearing. While the other women flitted around in skimpy gauze, Dorothy wore a full-length gown of dark green velvet that covered her neck to toes. Dorothy's goods were private eyes only.

With purpose in his steps, Naganti Kanan crossed in front of the crowd and addressed them in their own language. "Tonight is Yehwe. Tonight we celebrate our labors and the rewards they have given us." His thick fists rose into the air above his head in a triumphant gesture where they were greeted by thunderous applause from the men below him. "I am Kanan, your King. I have labored hard over this land to insure the safety and prosperity of you, my people." He stopped and surveyed the crowd before him. If you were to ask each man afterward, they would have told you that their king had looked them straight in the eye at that moment. Such was the power and presence of Naganti Kanan. "These are my rewards!" The mahogany fist turned into a magician's hand wave as he showed off the women behind him. "On this night, I share them with you." More applause. More whistles. More cheering. Each man more excited than the one next to him. Kanan walked down the line of women one by one holding a hand over each woman's head as he did so. One by one, he picked a man from the crowd to spend the night with the chosen woman of his harem.

Corporal Blood stood and stared in disbelief as the King's women were auctioned off for the night. What luck! This was indeed his chance, when Dorothy came up for bid, he would raise his hand. If he had to, he would make that gesture toward his throat if he were asked to speak. Yes, he would raise his hand for her.

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

Off to the west in the not-too-far distance the people who had come to this land to rescue two teammates stopped in their tracks. As if looking to a god for answers without asking the question all eyes turned to Dennis and the drums from below rolled over the hillsides echoing through the caves and canyons beyond. "What?" The query was met only by the raise of Colonel MacNeill's eyebrow and insistently set jaw.

"What are they doing?" Andrews repeated.

"Celebrating." Though they were not far away, Dennis raised the binoculars to his eyes and watched as Kanan's women were auctioned off to most deserving men for the night. There she was, just as Andrews had said earlier, a woman as white as stars in the night sky. "Jesus." He muttered without thinking.

"That's Dorothy." Andrews returned he did not need the glasses to pick her out not even at this distance. Another thing he did not need was Dr. Johnson to tell him what was about to happen to her. Bile turned in his stomach. Damn fish.

"Dorothy?" Dennis inquired as he stared at her through the long-range glasses. No, that was not her name. Her name was... Kelly? Was that her name?

Dennis dropped the long range spectacles and swiped at his eyes. Dennis shook his head for a moment to clear it of the sudden feeling of having been stuffed half full with cotton balls. Why would he know her name? That was ridiculous. Still, in the back of his mind, he was sure of one thing; her name was not Dorothy. Raising the binocs to his eyes once more, Dennis slipped back into his role of cultural expert and tried to decipher just what they were doing down in the town of Oz tonight. Soft whisperings of language carried themselves to him on the wind, they sounded like some form of Native American but he could not be sure.

The clothing they wore did not lead Dr. Johnson to believe that the inhabitants of Oz were the descendants of any Native American tribe. Each man in the town below appeared to be wearing a headdress that closely resembled a turban. The clothing which followed was lose fitting to allow air through but now a second layer had been added, a slightly heavier one made probably of wool rather than linen. No, if he had to make a guess, Dennis would have said the inhabitants of Oz were of Middle Eastern to African descent. Such an odd conglomeration of cultures, it did not make any sense to him. "We have to get through the gates before the sun goes down." Dennis took the lead as he began walking toward Oz at a more hurried pace.

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

One by one the women in Kanans' stable went off into the night with men they had probably never met, off to do whatever those men wished for the night. The woman QG-A had come to call Dorothy had heard her share of stories of what went on after the men and women were out of sight and she wanted no part of it. Dorothy fixed her emerald eyes upon Kanan's every move, never blinking, never turning away from him, no matter where he was standing or what he was saying. Her eyes always forward, always focused on him. The rest of what was happening here did not matter for in her mind it did not exist. This night, this festival, would come and go, just as it did every year and had for the last twenty-five years of her life.

Unlike the other women, Dorothy would always be spared the touch of the filthy outstretched hands that groped toward her. Always did she stand just out of their reach, Naganti Kanan made sure that her position was always two full arm-lengths from the front of the platform. Never would they touch her. Nevertheless, always, always, would they plead and want. Always would they look and whisper. Always would the drum beat echo inside her head.

Always would she...

That did not matter.

That did not exist.

The last of the sun's rays fell over the echoing hillside as six darkened figures slipped through the gates of Oz.

With a resounding thud, the drums stopped and Kanan raised his thick arms. "Here, before you, here we have the last of my rewards. What man among you steps forward to claim my Cha'Dech for this night?" Though his words were inviting his tone, like the tight set of his jaw, was daring. Kanan waited to see if any of his people would defy their King. Never had they done so before, he had no reason to believe any of them would now.

The roaring, cheering crowd suddenly became deathly silent. No whistles. No applause. No cheers.

Corporal Blood stepped through and raised his hand.

With that simple movement, everything around Dorothy, Naganti Kanan's prized Cha'Dech, shattered. Pieces of her world flew in every direction, they broke apart and tumbled end over end in mid-air. Her eyes closed tightly at the sight of the raised hand, her knees buckled beneath her and threatened to betray her as she grasped for the heavy hand of her Lord.

"They're gonna kill you, man." A familiar voice hissed from behind him. Blood turned around to stare into the face of Carlisle. "What the fuck did'ja do that for?" It was too late. The crowd around them was already parting, standing aside so that Blood, save for Carlisle, stood alone in the center of an empty circle. "Shit." A strong voice came from the other direction. Blood turned to face the owner of that voice, it was Kanan of course and Blood could not understand a single world the King was saying. With a wavering hand he motioned toward his throat and then his mouth, a small revelation came to him, he also pointed to his ears.

Look, I'm mute and deaf.

While his voice remained cool, Kanan's' eyes burned. "B'ok tar hesta Cha'Dech?" ("You claim my concubine?") A thick finger pointed at Blood then at Dorothy, finally the large hand waved beckoned to the deaf and mute man. "Shani bei. " ("Come forward.")

This is a good time to back out. Just make motions to indicate that you were misunderstood, you made an error. They won't kill you. They'll probably have a good laugh and then a strong drink or two.

Corporal Blood nodded his dark-haired head before he could stop himself. Why did it seem that so often Rationality took a long hike just when you needed it most?

Still the dark-skinned man standing on the platform, smiled, but his blazing eyes stared straight through to Blood's very soul. All around was eerily silent, Blood wished that he could take back his once raised hand. If only there was something, anything, which would turn all of the gaping eyes away from him. Before he was aware of what was happening, hands grasped him roughly by the shoulders and began shoving him toward the platform where the object of his desire stood waiting for him. Dorothy would not look at him. One step and then another. There were hands pushing him forward but no one spoke. To Blood it seemed this world had suddenly been stuck in a time warp; everything was lingering longer than it should. Standing at the stairs to the raised platform now, his eyes locked upon Dorothy who had her own eyes fixed solidly upon her King.