A Time to Heel

There was no lock on the door and no alarm system- so far as I could tell. But then, Maktavan technology is so odd that I didn't really know what I was looking for.

I turned on the penlight for two seconds and searched the the foyer. Statues of heroic male and female nudes posed at random and the walls were covered with complex geometric designs in red and gold. I found my path, turned off the light, and took six steps in total darkness. When I turned the light on again, I was standing in the archway between the foyer and the inner chamber. Two shallow, flower-strewn pools took up most of the room, but there was a narrow catwalk between them, and raised paths on either side. The stairway I was looking for was off the left hand path.

According to my sources, no one had used the bell tower in years. The third floor landing had a large, stained glass window. The lower panel was designed to open for ventilation, but the crank was missing and the hinges looked old and rusted. I adjusted the beam on my penlight and turned it into a laser. On this setting, the battery would be dead in five seconds. That was just long enough for me to cut a hole in the window about three centimeters in diameter.

I sat on a stair and waited.

Maktavans have a strange attitude towards technology. In some ways they are far in advance of any human civilization. They've got the dimensional gates, of course. No Earth scientist has the slightest idea how those work. And Maktavan biotechnology and robotics is amazing. The Maktavans and their Earth slaves live in a state of perfect health and perpetual youth, with self-replicating nanobots to do all the dull and unpleasant jobs. So what do they have against air conditioning? The temperature in the archipelago and the coastal strip- the only parts of the planet that are habitable at all- hovers around eighty degrees Fahrenheit all year round. On the third floor of the bell tower it was more like a hundred. I suppose the Maktavans are used to the heat, but as much as they go on about their Eternal Principles of Benevolence, you'd think they would have some consideration for human visitors and invest in some climate control.

Despite the heat and the uncomfortable stair, I found myself dozing.

The singing woke me at dawn. The Maktavans were performing their morning orisons. Damn. I should have been recording already. I poked the barrel of my camera through the hole in the glass and activated the screen.

The garden was a mad thicket of huge, purple flowers and bronze-colored ferns, divided here and there by long, snakelike pools that were choked with vines and lily pads. In a small clearing six Maktavans formed a circle and struck yoga poses as they sang.

All Maktavans look like Indian princesses, and they all wear jumpsuits decorated with intricate patterns of gray and muddy purples. They never remove the jumpsuits in public, and there has been much speculation in the Earth media as to whether their bodies are beautiful by human standards, or hideous, or wholly alien. The only humans that knew for sure were their slaves, and they refused to tell.

These Maktavans were entirely naked. Cameras are forbidden on their world, so this was probably the first time in centuries that any Maktavan had been photographed in the nude. As far as I could tell, they were indistinguishable from human women. All of them had athletic bodies and dark skin. None had more than a few wisps of pubic or axillary hair. None were excessively fat. But each body had a distinctive shape, and every shape was perfect in its own way.

As a man, I was delighted. As a photojournalist I was perplexed. No one would believe these were genuine aliens. Unless I could get some kind of corroboration, this footage would be worthless. But as I filmed the slow evolution of their asanas I began to realize how petty it was to worry about how I was going to sell the film. These women were beautiful and amazing, and that was enough. I doubted that any yogini had ever posed with such strength, confidence and grace. Their songs and their bodies sent me into a reverie of almost religious ecstasy. The performance was intensely erotic, but I didn't dare to imagine making love to such austere and ethereal goddesses.

During the slow evolutions of their asanas their skin began to glisten and shine, as if the morning mist was just now settling across their bodies. And then I realized that it wasn't moisture at all. A tissue of translucent film was forming across their torsos and limbs.

I aimed the camera at the center of one Maktavan's back, turned on the virtual tripod, and increased the magnification one thousand times. Slithering images came into focus. Tiny beetles were spinning threads across that dark and splendid skin.

Within minutes, the beetles had constructed an entire outfit for each Maktavan. The women were now dressed in purplish gray jumpsuits. Their feet were still bare, of course- Maktavans never wear shoes or stockings. Now other insects or insectoid robots woke and buzzed about their heads. And as their song climbed into its final crescendo, a hundred thousand butterflies rose from the grass as one and joined millions more from every garden in the city to form a column over us all, a thousand meters high.

I took a canal boat to the portal station and checked in at the ticket office. The D-car was leaving for Madrid in two hours. The ticket agents were all female human slaves, dressed in blue scrubs. All jobs that require contact with tourists are handled by slaves, and most slaves on Maktava are women. The woman at the counter confiscated my luggage and told me that my boarding pass was on hold. She didn't know why- I would have to speak to her supervisor. But first I'd have to remove my shoes and socks, and step through a security scanner.

I wasn't necessarily under arrest, but I knew if I was going to be arrested, this is how the Maktavans would do it. They are an eminently civilized people who abhor physical unpleasantness. They don't have armed police. They don't need them. No human is allowed through the gate without passing a thorough psychological examination, and the Maktavans themselves are born pacifists. There are no dangerous people on the entire planet. Even if I knew for certain that I would be arrested, it was useless to try to escape. There was nowhere to hide in town, and I wouldn't last two days in the wild. Water would be easy to get, but I couldn't forage for food- the local plants and animals are biochemically incompatible with humans.

I went through the security checkpoint and the ticket agent directed me to a small room where a small investigator was waiting to speak with me. She was a cute, slender slave with a pixie haircut, dressed in gray scrubs. They couldn't have picked a less intimidating woman for the job. But then she didn't really need my confession.

"Aidan M, age 19, freelance photographer. You've been accused of a crime."

"What crime? Am I under arrest?"

"That's an unnecessarily harsh word. It would be more accurate to say that your movements are being temporarily restricted. My name is Alexandra, and I work for the Department of Official Inquiries. I'm not here to accuse you of anything. I'm here to remind you of your circumstances, to spare you any confusion or uncertainty that may cause you distress. I know from your psychological evaluation that you are a reasonable, nonviolent person. You know that no Earth government has diplomatic relations with Maktava. You tourists are here at your own risk. You are also aware- and you have signed documents to this effect- that it is a criminal offense to possess photographic equipment anywhere on Maktava."

"I'd like to speak to a lawyer."

"You misunderstand your position. You have none of the legal rights you might enjoy- or more precisely, pretend that you enjoy- on Earth. Humans here do not have the right to a trial of any sort. Your guilt is not at issue. A panel of Maktavan judges will review your psychological profile to determine the most appropriate and humane punishment for your crime."

"That's it?"

"The review might be finished in an hour or two. Then again, it may take several days."

"Can I speak to the panel?"

"You will have an opportunity to make a statement- after the panel is finished with their deliberations."

"After I'm sentenced, you mean."

"We both know that there are no doubts as regards to your guilt, and no mitigating circumstances in your case. You should be thankful-"

"Thankful?"

"-that the Maktavan justice system is far more civilized, enlightened and humane than any on Earth. Everyone here is protected by the Eternal Principles of Benevolence. These rules expressly prohibit cruelty to humans."

Next, she took me to a small, windowless shower room at the end of the hall where a muscular blonde amazon in gray scrubs told me to strip naked. The amazon gave me a cavity search and had me take a shower without soap. When I through, she handed me a plain white towel and a gray thong. I usually wore boxers. In the thong, I felt more naked than naked, so I wrapped the towel around my hips. Alexandra returned and showed me to what I suppose was a holding cell.

It looked more like a hospital waiting room, very comfortable and cheerfully decorated with bright, abstract art. I was to share the cell with an attractive, dark Frenchwoman in her late thirties and a chubby blonde American. Both had been issued towels. The Frenchwoman was sitting on hers, in an extremely skimpy gray bra and thong. She was lean and tan, and from the way she posed in the chair I could see that she was proud of her body. Her breasts were small, but firm and pert, and she had beautiful legs. The American was body shy, with the towel wrapped tight and shoulder high.

The Frenchwoman looked me over, head to toe, with an amused expression, before she extended her hand. We introduced ourselves. Her name was Nyrene and she was a biologist. The American was her student, a college sophomore named Mina. To pass the time, we freely confessed our crimes. The Maktavans had caught Nyrene and Mina trying to smuggle advanced biotechnology out of the country. They seemed cheerful, considering. They'd fallen in love with Maktava and I think they were more frightened of banishment than they were of slavery.

I told Nyrene about my escapades on the upper Amazon and she talked about all the places she'd been arrested. Mina didn't talk much, but she hung on Nyrene's every word. It was clear that she worshiped her professor. I was sitting to Nyrene's left, with a single narrow seat between us. Her right arm was resting on the back of the empty seat, her hand almost touching my arm. The imperfection of the black stubble on her armpit made her seem more human, more approachable. She rested the pad of her right foot on top of my left foot. It was our only point of contact- so far. This woman was almost twice my age, but she was very hot. I looked down. A line of fine black hair ran from her belly button to the top of the thong. Her bush was too thick for the thong to cover it all. Hair poked out from behind every seam.

I adjusted the towel, to conceal the fact I was getting hard.

"I'm surprised they didn't split us up. You know, men and women."

"Should they have?" Nyrene said. "Are you planning on having your way with us?"

"I'm not a rapist."

"Of course not. If you were a violent person, you wouldn't be here. They know that we won't rape each other, and they wouldn't object if we had consensual sex. Quite the contrary. The Maktavans are natural voyeurs."

She scratched the arch of my foot with her toes.

"When are they going to give us our clothes back?" Mina asked.

Nyrene looked at her and smiled. "The first human slaves on Maktava had to serve in the nude."

"It's still a requirement," I said.

"That's not true," Mina said. "You're teasing me."

"He's right. But you can apply for a waiver. That's why you almost never see nude slaves, outside of the royal palace."

"You've been inside the palace?" I asked.

"The royals like their slaves naked." Nyrene wrinkled her nose impishly. "And blonde."

"I'd die of embarrassment," Mina said.

"Well, if they do decide to make slaves of us, be sure to apply for a waiver. Or, royal slave or not, you'll have to spend the rest of forever bare ass and blushing."

I could see advantages to complete nudity. All I had on was a thong and a towel, and I was still sweating in the almost unbearable heat.

There was no clock, of course. We had no way of knowing how long we'd been there. At least we weren't bored. I found myself hoping that Nyrene and I would both be deported, and sent back to Madrid on the same D-car. I don't normally chase cougars, but Nyrene had to be the hottest woman I'd ever played footsie with.

Eventually, Alexandra returned.

"The panel will see you. Follow me. Leave your towels on the bench."

Nyrene sprang to her feet and offered Mina her hand.

"It's OK. I'll be right beside you."

Mina stood up, dropped the towel and tried to look brave. She was a busty girl, and the tiny gray brassiere could barely hold her in. And I'll bet she'd never worn a thong before. Her face was bright red, but then so was mine.

All eyes were on me. I was still sitting with the towel in my lap. Nyrene decided to be helpful.

"He has an erection."

"Let me see," Alexandra said.

I moved the towel. The thong was stretched to the limit, leaving me slightly exposed at the edges.

"Very nice," Alexandra said. "Follow me, and leave your towel on the bench."

Alexandra took us down two flights of stairs to a small subway platform. A single robot car was waiting there. The door opened. Alexandra told us to sit. She wasn't coming with us. Within seconds, we were speeding down the tube, sitting half naked in the semi-darkness. We sat hip to hip on a single bench with Nyrene in the middle. She grabbed Mina's hand, then mine.

"How are you doing?" Nyrene asked Mina.

"I don't want to be deported. And I don't want to be enslaved. But mostly I just hope they don't split us up."

"You know, slavery here isn't as unpleasant as it is on Earth," Nyrene said. "Humans are more like pampered pets than slaves. Most of them are here by choice. They volunteered for it."

"Earth is a mess," I said. "No one's really free there, either. Unless they're rich."

"Not even then."

"I guess we're all a little broken."

The car stopped and the door opened. A pretty, barefoot Asian slave in a black jumpsuit met us at the door.

"The Wise Ones are ready to speak with you."

She turned and walked into a narrow corridor. The floor was made of multicolored tiles and the low, barrel-vaulted ceiling was turquoise. A long row of small cells stood to either side of the hallway. The cells had no bars or obvious walls. The only visible barrier between each cell and the hall was a glowing blue line on the floor and ceiling. They were force cages- light, sound and air could pass through them as if they weren't there, but any flesh that tried to cross one of those lines would be repelled.

There was a single human occupant in every cell. Only two of them were men. Some of the women looked like they might still be in their teens and the oldest could have passed for forty, but with the Maktavan anti-aging technology there's no way to know for certain. The men were both naked. Most of the women wore the skimpy gray bikinis. About a third of the women were either topless or completely nude. Nobody had any body hair. Nearly all the prisoners were aching for sex- you could smell it in their sweat. One of the men and two of the women were openly masturbating.

Everyone was watching us. The propositions they made were oddly polite. Mostly people simply introduced themselves, complimented our bodies, or told us we were hot. One of the women suggested I'd be more comfortable if I shed my thong. I was tempted to do it.

The corridor ended in a small, circular chamber with a wide, perfectly circular hole in the ceiling. I couldn't tell much about the area above the hole, except that it appeared to be a well lit indoor space much larger space than the one we were in. A couple of chains were hanging through the hole, and they were attached to a spreader bar with fabric cuffs.

The pretty slave in the black jumpsuit told Nyrene to take off her bra. Nyrene obeyed without hesitation. Her breasts were lovely. Her nipples were small and hard. The slave fastened her wrists to the spreader bar and stood behind her. A circular section of the floor- exactly the same diameter as the hole in the ceiling- rose like a piston, lifting Nyrene and the slave into the room above. A crowd of women began to cheer. When the top of the piston reached the edge of the hole, it created a perfect seal, blunting the noise. We could still hear the crowd, faintly, through the metal. The applause grew faint, and then we heard nothing. The piston began to turn very slowly.

Mina and I exchanged glances.

"I guess I won't need this."

She unfastened her bra, took it off, and dropped it on the floor, on top of Nyrene's.

"I think you're beautiful," I said.

Usually I prefer skinny girls, but Mina had pretty legs, a fine ass, and big, beautiful breasts. She seemed unaware of how attractive she was. I preferred her milfy professor, but I could see myself with Mina if she and I were the only ones on that D-car to Madrid.

We sat on the floor. We didn't look at each other. We didn't say anything. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she touched my thigh. After a few minutes, we heard Nyrene moaning with pleasure. The crowd started cheering again.

We squeezed each other's hands. The crowd noises faded and the piston dropped. The slave was still on the platform. Nyrene was missing, but her thong was lying at the slave's feet and curls of her black pubic hair littered the floor. After a few seconds, the chains lowered the spreader bar back into position.

"Aidan, you're next."

I kissed Mina. I hadn't planned to- it just happened. I stepped onto the platform and felt short strands of Nyrene's hair under the soles of my feet. I allowed the slave to fasten my wrists to the spreader bar. She stood behind me, and the platform lifted me into the upper floor.

I was standing in the exact center of a large, circular chamber. Eight Maktavans were standing or sitting in a circle around me, quite close. Naked and nearly naked humans watched me from two stories of prison cells that covered the perimeter of the room. They stood and applauded. The chains that raised the spreader bar continued to rise for a couple of seconds after the platform stopped, lifting me onto the balls of my feet. Then the platform began to rotate slowly, so that everyone could get a good look at my entire body.

The Maktavans were dressed in mauve and gray jumpsuits. They were the most beautifully perfect women imaginable. Some of them were in yoga poses on little rugs while others sat on simple chairs. Nyrene was crouching naked in front of one of the chairs, kissing a Maktavan's bare feet. Her ass was pointed at me. The rotating platform brought us in perfect alignment. For a few seconds I had the best view in the house of Nyrene's wet and freshly shaved pussy. Black Jumpsuit was still standing behind me, and she chose this moment to stretch the thong off of my cock and pull it down to my thighs. The Maktavans looked at me with a gentle, blissful expression while the humans cheered.

The platform continued to turn. I recognized two of the Maktavans from my unauthorized photo shoot. A slender and naked Latina was sitting in the lotus position between them. One of the Maktavans raised her arm, and the cheering faded. She spoke to me in her language. The naked slave translated everything she said.

"Aidan M. You looked upon our nakedness without permission. This is an intimacy that you have not earned. But it is a small offense, and we forgive. What cannot be so easily dismissed is your attempt to document our technology. The offense is twofold. One: you brought a photographic recording device to Maktava. A camera is a crime against philosophy, because it betrays the present for the sake of the past. Two: you recorded an industrial process. It is reasonable to assume that you would have distributed your recording on your own world. Engineers there wish to learn our technology in order to make more efficient weapons. This we cannot permit. You were our guest. You knew our laws and recklessly disregarded them."