The Great Escape Chapter 18, Part 8 of 9

The Great Escape
Chapter 18, Part 8 of 9

"Tears may work on a soft-hearted man," she told Annela, ignoring him, "but I'm a woman myself. They do not work on me. Come on, Annela. You know this is the only way to save your life."

"But Ezra said."

"Ezra's your lover. He will never hurt your feelings. I am your chief. I couldn't care less about your feelings."

"But Freya."

"I know. You want to see her growing up. How much of her growth will you see before you leave her an orphan? No, Annela. The tribe will raise Freya for you, and you'll be her mother again when you're cured."

"When?" Annela wailed.

"Who cares when? One year, two years, ten years? Just so long as you live. Now, no more nonsense."

Annela knew her chief was right. Although she may have protested that it was too hard to leave them all, she knew she must live for Freya's sake. She recognized Mirselene's authority and meekly accepted her orders, though she could not help weeping.

"Ezra, what's your plan?" Mirselene asked.

"Solange is here with two horses. I will ask the Wildchild to go to Cloner City to fetch Yumi.

Solange will bring some more horses to the meeting place tomorrow morning."

"Very well. Annela, will you find Wildchild and send her here? Then you have got this evening to say goodbye to everyone. Off you go. Ezra and I need to talk."

Annela picked up Freya and went to find Wildchild.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Mirselene." Ezra began, but she cut him off.

"Forget that. I want to apologize to you."

"To me? Why?"

"For making you look weak in front of Annela. I know you would have persuaded her eventually, but I see no reason to allow her to delay. Despite what I said, I do not blame you for being soft-hearted, Ezra. I rejoice in it. Think what a tyrant you could be to us women if you were not soft-hearted?"

"I would never be a tyrant."

"I know, Ezra. I know. That is what pleases me most about you. You are a good man. We might not be so lucky when other men come."

Ten minutes later, Solange and Wildchild were trotting through the forest. When they reached the meeting place, they parted company. Wildchild rode hard for the Herder's Northern Camp while Solange galloped back to the Midway Camp.

All the Woodlanders were at the meeting place the following day to say goodbye to Angela.

She endured the tiring walk carrying Freya, and her friends helped her as often as they permitted.

Solange and Ash brought three spare horses. Carlin, Tamar, and Ezra were riders. Annela and Erin were passengers.

There was a last argument about whether Annela could take Freya with her. Although Ezra took Annela's side, saying he would carry their daughter, Mirselene's counsel prevailed. Freya would be far more upset at seeing her mother go to sleep in the Pod than she would be left behind now. Annela had no strength to resist anymore. She bowed her head and submitted.

The tribe kissed Annela goodbye. There were many tears, some loud, and Pepi was distraught. Mirselene's shining eyes lit up as she kissed Annela on the mouth. Casti wept openly.

Erin staved off, becoming a wreck only because she was to ride behind her daughter.

Annela spent a long kiss hugging Freya, who followed the general mood and remained quiet.

With Ezra's help, Annela climbed up on a pony behind Tamar. A doubled-up blanket made the seat soft, and leather stirrups for her feet helped her stay on. Annela held Tamar tightly, and an extra rope bound the girls around the waist, just in case Annela blacked out and started to fall.

Then they were off at a fast trot, downhill onto the plain beyond the outlying clumps of trees and forest stragglers, not looking back.

They cantered to see if Annela could manage the jolting and shaking. The shaking was distracted from the headache that started as soon as they left. It was the searing, biting kind that took all her strength to fight and deprived her of sleep.

At noon, they stopped at a stream to water and feed the horses. Here they were caught up by Wildchild, who had collected Yumi from the Cloner City yesterday and galloped all the way.

They continued the journey on a walk.

At mid-afternoon, when they were only five miles from the salvage site, Solange pointed out a small cloud of dust to the south. It was something she had been looking for. The cloud grew closer by the minute and soon executed the wind; they heard the thunder of horses' hooves and wild, high-pitched cries. Eventually, the cause of the commotion appeared: almost the whole Herder Tribe galloped across the plain in a line abreast, whooping and shouting, waving their spears in the air.

Annela's party waited for the Herders to arrive.

The braves formed a large circle around Annela's group, raised their spears in a salute, and gave another loud shout. A woman exited the circle and stood her panting horse before Annela. The dust settled around its fetlocks. Sweat glistened on its neck and flanks.

She winked at Solange and then addressed Annela in a loud voice.

"Annela Freya, daughter Woodlander," she called out: "I am Galatea, Acting-Chief of the Herders, and I'm proud to lead the Honor Guard to escort you to the Life-Pod!"

"Life Pod!" Ezra whispered admiringly to Wildchild, whose horse stood next to his. "Your mother has an advertising gift. I'd never have thought to call it that."

Annela had been dozing. It took her a few seconds to wake up.

She blinked in the bright sunshine.

"Honor Guard?" she asked.

"A dignified escort to your Life-Pod," Galatea explained.

"Thank you, Madam, but I don't understand."

"The Woodlanders are doing it all wrong! You do not enter the Life Pod with moping and tears.

You enter with songs, dances, a torchlight procession, and cheers—the same celebration will greet you when you exit the Life Pod to be cured!

Annela was overwhelmed. Sadness was inevitable, but this was how to put a brave face on it. She smiled.

"Thank you, Madam," she said.

"Are you ready?" Galatea asked.

"Yes, Madam, I am."

"Then give your orders."

It was cheesy, but Angela played her part. She sat up straight and addressed the Herders.

"Honor-guard!" she said.

The Herders sat at attention.

"To the Life-Pod!" Annela commanded.

"To the Life-Pod!" the Herders shouted, flourishing their spears or clashing them together. The roar was terrific. They turned, spurred their horses, and, whooping for joy, began the charge to the Salvage Camp. Gradually picking up speed, the Herders line trampling the grass before them, the party covered the last half mile at a gallop.

With the exhausted horses led away to the water, the excited women quickly prepared the salvage site, raising tents and clearing the sand away from the pods, rescuing them from burial in the constantly creeping dunes.

While the women bustled about, Yumi and Ezra prepared the Pod, and APodla sat with Erin under a tent roof, looking out to sea. The Herders brought logs, torches, and bags of food.

They laid the fire for a feast and, as the clouds began to form over the bright ocean, lit the logs, setting food to cook, heating soup, and baking flatbread.

The women ate, sat around the campfire, and sang or hummed cheerful tunes, occasionally clapping and standing up to dance. Tamar fetched food for Annela, but she barely touched it.

There did not seem to be any point. In truth, Annela would have been happy to be quiet, but the women would not let her, so she participated in the songs and greeted everyone kindly as they took turns saying goodbye.

The last to do so were Solange and Galatea, who had been talking together. They came to say that Yumi and Ezra were ready for her: it was time to light the torches and lead the procession to the Pod.

AnnelPodas prepared. If only it would stop the headaches, she would sleep long. She hugged Erin as much as possible but didn't neglect her young friends, Carlin, Tamar, and Wildchild.

Supported by Erin and Carlin, Wildchild and Tamar led the way with lit torches. Annela paraded once around the camp and through an avenue of Herder women holding their torches
high.

A cold wind from the sea blew the hair of the Honor Guard into their faces, making their torches flicker. Tiny chilly raindrops fell on their heads and fizzled in the flames while the women maintained their cheerful song. As Annela passed, the women closed in behind her, crowding around the Pod, turning the dusky evening bright orange.

The Pod's hatch was an empty seat with leg supports, armrests, and a headrest present.

Metal arms with hypodermic needles stood ominously on either side, like the appendages of a ferocious insect poised to strike. Erin and Carlin passed Annela to Ezra.

She looked frightened, but Ezra kissed her on the forehead, held her tightly one last time, and whispered in her ear, promising her it wouldn't hurt and he would be there when she woke up.

Then, they would be together forever.

She kissed him one last time and took her place on the seat, trying to smile at everyone to conquer her fear.

As she sat down, she felt the white heat of a biting headache coming on. She shut her eyes and performed her mental exercises to fight the pain.

Ezra stepped back out of the Pod. Yumi tapped Podtructions on the control panel to simulate a continuous emergency. The lid closed, and lights went on inside. Straps folded over Annela's chest, legs, arms, and forehead, holding her in place. The mechanical arms lowered menacingly. They clicked into place, and the hypodermics pressed into her skin. Thin transparent pipes filled with blood ran along the arms to instruments behind the chair.

Annela briefly opened her eyes, slowly shut them again, and was at peace. Her breathing gradually slowed and stopped. Red numbers on the control panel showed her heartbeat slowing down. Her other vital signs also diminished.

In a few minutes, Annela was in suspended animation: a sleep so deep that she no longer breathed, no longer digested food, no longer sweated, no longer dreamed, and her heart would beat only when it was stimulated to do so by the Pod, every few modes. Now her cells would stop dividing, including so Ezra hoped the wicked cancer cells that were eating away at the flesh of her brain, killing her painfully.

The light in the Pod dulled and turned off.

The torchbearers stood for a few minutes in silence around the Pod. Their cheers and songs were no longer needed; Angela couldn't hear them now. Somberly and quietly, they went to their tents.

At first, Ezra thought he would rather be alone that night, but there weren't enough tents, so he slept in a crowded four-person tent with the Woodlander women and girls.

Carlin comforted her mother while Tamar and Wildchild snuggled up either side of him. They kissed his cheeks and promised to be there when Annela was revived. Holding him tightly, they used his chest as a pillow, as they had done not so far from this place, two-and-a-half years ago. Now, Ezra was glad he was sharing their tent. There was comfort in feeling their boundless love for Annela and him.

Rocket surgery

Meanwhile, Danielle waited expectantly on Calitris for her husband to return across the galaxy.

Roger finally finished his publicity tour and sent the most welcome message to say he was on his way home.

In the final week before his arrival, Danielle started acting peculiarly. She had her hair done again and recruited Rosa to shop with her to buy something special to wear to meet him. She bought an entire ensemble, took it back, and bought something else, which she also took back.

It wasn't nerves alone. In fact, why was it nerves at all? She was a mature, successful woman, a top scientist. She'd been married for nearly two years, yet she felt like a schoolgirl,
experiencing everything ten times more strongly than usual.

Then the day arrived. Roger was on the last leg of the trip from Earth after landing at Ocean City as a port that evening. How many times had Danielle said she'd meet him there? Roger was surprised, therefore, when he got a message saying:

"I'm Sorry I can't meet you, Darling. Take a jet car, and I'll meet you at the Arts City terminus."

Disappointed but understanding, Roger replied to her message, boarded a jet car, stowed his luggage, and skimmed across the central ocean. In an hour, he was at the Arts City terminus.

Danielle was not there, either. He received another message saying:

"Sorry, Darling. I'm still in a meeting. Take a taxi home, and I'll meet you there."

Roger was getting a little peeved. He had flown 170 light years and thought of Danielle almost every minute of the three-day journey, barely able to contain his longing for her. He wanted to hold and kiss her. Her work was essential, but she was only in a meeting this late because of an emergency.

However unhappy, he could do nothing except take a taxi to their apartment building on the Science Institute campus. He sent her another message, hoping the emergency wasn't too serious.

Eventually, he was taken to the lift to Danielle's flat. It seemed to drag slowly. He received another text saying:

"No emergency, just planning a social event. Home in an hour. Make yourself dinner, and don't wait for me if you're tired."

It was infuriating, and Roger was never furious. Danielle's actions were unaccountable, from long, breathless messages expressing how much she yearned for him to casual messages expressing more neglect than love.

When he reached the top floor, the lift pinged annoyingly, and the whoosh of the doors opening into the corridor irritated him. He wanted them to excite him and bring him closer to his wife, but they brought him home to an empty and lonely apartment.

He hefted his luggage to the door and put his thumb to the print-reader. Struggling in with his suitcases, he banged them against the walls, a tympanic ally expressing his irritation.

The flat was dark, but the corridor had an orange glow. It was warm inside, and the heating was turned up. He stamped down the corridor but stopped when he saw what caused the orange light.

It was candles—dozens of them on the floor of the bedroom.

The candles illuminated the room and the corridor through the open door, shedding a golden glow on the book-cases, the heavily curtained windows, the crisp white sheets on the bed, and, kneeling in front of the bed, her wrists handcuffed behind her, ankles tied together, mouth gagged, blindfolded, naked, pink and delicious was Danielle, waiting for him.

There was a click, and his communicator buzzed once more. The message said:

"Darling, I couldn't decide what outfit to wear to meet you, so I wore nothing. I hope you like it.

And because it's Thursday night, when you're supposed to tie me up, I thought I'd start things myself. Do you mind?"

"Darling, I don't mind at all," Roger said, and all peevishness and resentment vanished.

"You're wonderful!"

He stepped into the room and kissed her on the forehead.

"I'm going for a shower," he said. "Don't go anywhere."

Always a gentleman, Roger needed to wash and shave after all that traveling, but he did not leave her waiting long.

Clean, dry, smooth of the chin, and as naked as his gorgeous wife, Roger removed Danielle's gag to kiss her. All his stored-up yearning had returned, with the deflected anger from Danielle's tease adding to an enthusiastic urgency. His cock was hard in seconds, as Danielle quickly found out because he pulled away from the kiss and pushed his stiff rod into her hungry mouth.

She sucked diligently. Danielle loved working his cock, knowing how much he appreciated her mouth-skills. She bobbed her head and hummed in her throat, pushing her tongue along his shaft as she sucked him down, squeezing with her lips as she pulled back. It was a loving blowjob and a beautiful welcome home.

He couldn't stop before she got him so turned on, so Roger decided to return the favor. He lifted Danielle onto the bed, turned her on her front, untied her ankles, and then retired them, legs spread, to the corner posts. He pulled her up so her arse was in the air and sank his face into her wet pussy, his tongue giving her clitoris the same teasing stimulus she gave his cock.

She moaned and gasped sweetly, her face in a pillow, her arms helpless behind her back. She bucked against his face. It was her instinctive response to the hot pleasure he gave to her vital nub, a tingling pleasure she felt along her thighs and up her belly, even in her nipples.

He pulled her hips up even higher and clasped her clitoris between the tongue and top lip, pulling away firmly and sucking back down. That got her going. She dripped nectar along her flaring pussy-lips. She needed his cock in her and said so.

Standing behind her, he gave her bottom a few friendly smacks and, while she wallowed in that lovely sensation, stuffed his cock hard into her aching slit. She sighed contentedly and then moaned in a needy, grateful way as he began to thrust.

Her tension built faster than his, and she gasped at an irresistible climax, holding her breath and hunching her back. Then came the shaking thighs and pulsating pussy. With an ache in her nipples and a warm flush on her chest and neck, the pleasure washed over her. He kept up the rhythm, gripping her waist tightly, and she came again a couple of minutes later when he had his first release. Groaning loudly, he spurted a heavy load from his twitching cock.

He held her while the raw, nervous shuddering turned to a placid contentment. Then he untied her ankles and took off her gag but left on the handcuffs and blindfold. He turned her onto her back and lay on her, holding her warmly, kissing, sharing the afterglow of sexual fulfillment.

For their second time, he went to town on her big responsive tits. He licked, sucked, and massaged them until she begged for his cock again. She came twice before he released another load.

He made her go on top for the third time, and she rode him energetically. She reached a peak just as she ran out of energy. She collapsed on him, and he held her about the waist and thrust up into her to the finish. It was a noisy, sweaty finale, and, in the last moments, he pushed her up and latched his mouth onto a tit, sucking ferociously. She threw her head back and cried out with joy and fulfillment.

Afterward, she lay peacefully on him, content as a kitten, chest to chest, warm in his embrace, satiated for now. She was surprised when he made her handcuffs because she'd forgotten her wrists were secured.

"I love you, husband," she said. "Welcome home."

"I love you, wife. I'm happy to be home."

They didn't leave the bedroom for another two days, satisfying each other's aching need, fulfilling a longing that distance and delay had made irresistibly potent. When they finally emerged from the apartment, blinking in the bright afternoon sunshine, they smiled happily at everyone, brimming over with well-earned joy.

Danielle returned to work eager to supervise her students while Roger planned a sequel to his book and video film. He gave up the idea of teaching but embarked on an extensive research project, learning what he could about how the outworld settlements fared after independence.

This took him on excursions to interview descendants of the founders of Celetaris and further afield to the nearby colonies that had waxed rich on the mines and manufactures of their planets. Still, he never went away for more than a week.

One day, Danielle visited the Needle for a meeting and was leaving when she met Paul Kessler in the corridor. He held the lift door open for her.

"I'm glad I bumped into you, Danielle," he said, following her into the lift. "I wanted to talk to you about the court case."

"I'm on my way to another appointment. Can we talk later?"

"Of course. Have you ever eaten in the restaurant on the top floor here?"

"Once, with my husband."

"Then you know how good it is. Will you come to dinner with me this evening?"

"Why do you want to buy me dinner?"

"The obvious reason: you're a beautiful woman; I'm an attractive man."


To be continued