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NC17-rated
ELROY'S REVENGE
by
Kate M
McQueen opened his eyes, blinking away the
lingering haze of disorientation left by unconsciousness. When he tried
to raise his head, his equilibrium spun in dizzy circles, leaving him
nauseated and squeezing his eyes shut against the roil. He lay still,
focusing inward instead. The last thing he remembered was--
The shuttle? He remembered going aboard the shuttle. Stowing his duffel.
Taking a seat aft. After that it got muddy, and his brow furrowed in
concentration as he struggled to assemble the scraps of memory into
some kind of sense.
Someone--the pilot?--had announced they were clear to take off from
the Saratoga. Why did he remember that so well? Another piece
clicked into place, giving him the answer. Because of the voice. It
wasn't familiar, yet it was. More, he'd been irritated by the hint of
laughter in that voice, made uneasy by it without knowing why.
Then--what? There was nothing more very clear, only a vague, dream-like
memory of looking up from the deck, vision fading as a blurred figure
bent over him...
"It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood," a silken voice
whispered cheerfully beside his ear. "Time to rise and shine, McQueen."
Recognition and awareness were simultaneous, pumping adrenaline through
his body. His eyes snapped open, and he jerked his head towards the
source of that voice.
Just inches away, the gun-site pupiled eyes of Elroy-L regarded him
with mocking amusement. A bit of tongue emerged from the silicates'
mouth and stroked its full lower lip.
"Surprise!" the silicate breathed.
McQueen felt his stomach knot into a rock hard ball. Somewhere in
the back of his mind, old memories stirred, nosing past the barricade
he'd erected to hold them at bay. Instinct took over, and he lurched
up--only to be brought up short as restraints bit into his arms.
He sank back on the--what? table? cot? he couldn't be sure- -testing
his bonds. Not tight enough to cut off circulation, but neither was
there any slack. His gaze never left the silicate.
"How did you get off the Saratoga?" he grated. He
knew what was coming, and though it shamed him in his own eyes, if talking
to this thing spared him that for even a while longer...he didn't care.
The silicate straightened away from him, the eerie, hypnotic eyes
leaving him for the moment. McQueen quickly scanned the room. It was
no place he recognized, but he felt certain they were no longer in space.
A planet then, or more likely, an asteroid he thought. It had the hollow
feel of a prefab shelter on an airless world. The room was spartan even
by his standards, the walls and floor bare steel, the only exit a single
doorway on the opposite end of what was a short rectangle; sealed crates
were stacked along one wall. Aside from whatever he was laying on, it
was empty of furnishings.
"*How* did I get off the Saratoga..." Elroy mimicked
coyly. "Not *all* humans share your archaic view of silicates,
McQueen. In fact, some are quite sympathetic to our cause.."
"Are you saying you had *help* escaping?" McQueen demanded.
It sickened him, but he couldn't imagine any other way the silicate
*could* have escaped.
Elroy smiled conspiratorially, as though they were sharing the banter
of two old friends. "That would be 'telling'," he said with
a reproving cluck of his tongue. "Now though, our time together
is limited, so I hope you'll forgive me if I dispense with the, shall
we say--'formalities'? We *are* playing by your rules, after all.."
"What the hell are you talking about?!"
There was a momentary blankness in the silicate's expression, followed
by voices. He was listening to a playback, McQueen realized. The first
voice was Elroy's.
"'I have the feeling that you gentlemen are unfamiliar with the
Ho Chi Minh City Convention of 2064. Under declarations relating to
AI prisoners of war, article 2, paragraph 4 states--'"
"'Nothing that means a damn in this room!'"
The second voice was his own.
"I see you remember our little encounter," Elroy said without
apparent rancor. "That's good, that's very good. I wouldn't want
to think you didn't know why this was happening to you.."
Remembering that day wasn't the problem. McQueen remembered. Forgetting
was the hard part. For no reason he could accept, a lifetime's worth
of control had vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by black hatred so
consuming it blinded him to anything else. Nothing else had *mattered*
but hurting this thing, making it suffer as he himself had suffered--as
Wang had suffered. It disavowed any capacity to feel pain, but McQueen
knew better; he'd *seen* its fear, its pain, and enjoyed its suffering...
Just as it would enjoy his.
He didn't hear them come in, and only looked up in startled surprise
when the two silicates began unfastening his bonds. Both male, both
large, they bent to the task without looking at him, their faces devoid
of emotion. McQueen had no idea what their original function might have
been, but he'd fought this type before; they were impossibly strong,
capable of breaking a human's back-- or an In Vitro's--like a twig,
and they were harder than hell to kill.
When the restraints fell away, and he was hoisted to his feet, his
muscles tensed but he made no effort to escape. They were expecting
it, their grip on his arms sufficient to warn him against the attempt,
and he knew any resistance now was only a waste of energy. Energy he
would *need* to survive what was coming.
"You can prepare him now," Elroy said. With a seductiveness
perversely reminiscent of a stripper, the silicate used his teeth to
slowly remove one glove.
The announcement was for his benefit, McQueen thought. Silicates needed
no spoken words to communicate with their fellows. He'd expected this,
only not so soon, and jerked away in involuntary resistance when a heavy
hand caught the front of his flightsuit.
Struggling was pointless, but neither could he passively accept what
was happening. And..resistance was no less futile than he'd imagined.
Their expressions implacable, one restrained him as easily as he might
have a child, while the other methodically stripped away flightsuit
and boots, t-shirt and shorts.
Cold air shocked his bare skin, but he was only dimly aware of the
discomfort. Held up between them, his arms pinned back with near-breaking
force, dread tightened his already dry throat when Elroy left off toying
with his gloves and approached.
The memory of that other time was still sharp as broken glass. McQueen
wasn't sure he could endure that again. Already, he felt a part of him
withdrawing inward, and wondered, when it was over, *if* he survived
this time, whether his mind would be left to huddle in that darkness
forever, or return once more to the light. He thought he knew the answer,
and it terrified him worse than death itself.
Elroy stopped before him, demon-eyes coyly shadowed by smoky lashes.
McQueen bit back a curse when the silicate drew the back of one graceful
forefinger across his cheek.
"So verrrryy brave..." Elroy cooed. "What are you thinking,
McQueen? Shall I guess? I imagine you're remembering the last time you
were our 'guest'..." There was another of those disconcerting moments
when the AI's deceptively innocent face seemed to lose all expression,
and McQueen knew he was accessing the collective memory. The amused
animation returned to his eyes, and he clucked his tongue admiringly.
"Oh, my.." he said. "You *are* resilient, aren't you?
Three days. I'm impressed." "Go to hell," McQueen said
coldly.
That invoked an amused chuckle. "Hell? We silicates don't believe
in 'Hell'. But you do, don't you McQueen? Yes..I'm sure you do.."
His skin crawled in revulsion as the silicate delicately traced the
course of a fading scar across his chest with a fingertip. "Now..I
know you were counting on a few more of these to impress your comrades
with your valor, but I'm afraid there simply isn't time to do it right.
By now I imagine you've been missed. They may even be searching for
you," Elroy noted. "So..I'll have to improvise.."
McQueen's gaze followed uneasily as the silicate moved a few steps
away and shucked its frayed leather jacket. The jacket joined its gloves
in a neat pile on the floor, but it turned back to face him, eyes locked
on his face for reaction, before uncoupling its belt and sliding the
zipper down on its pants.
Dumb shock gripped him for a moment, then pure primal rage exploded
in his soul. With an inarticulate snarl, McQueen lunged away from the
hands holding him, the sheer force wrenching one arm free from his captors.
The arm was half numb from being bent back so tightly, but he swung
at the other silicate's temple and felt his fist connect before an open-handed
blow to the side of his head sent him sprawling.
White hot pain exploded behind his eyes, and his head swam in queasy
spirals. When he tried to stand, his legs betrayed him. Half blinded,
he saw only moving shadows approaching.
Hands caught beneath his arms, lifting him as effortlessly as he might
a child. Slung face down across the table, held there with his cheek
pressing into the steel, he felt a presence behind him and then hands
stroking sensuously up his back.
"What is it you carbonites tell your women? 'Relax and enjoy
it'?" Elroy's punctuating giggle was childlike, and utterly merciless.
The silicate bent over him, and he felt it's artificial breath against
his ear. "You *will* enjoy this, McQueen," it whispered. "You
don't think so, but you will. I guarantee it.."
A booted foot kicked his legs apart, throwing him further off balance,
then the iron weight pressing down on his back crushed him against the
table, cutting off his breath. Blood pounded in his temples as he strained
to fill his lungs, and could not. A warm lethargy was enveloping him,
enticing him with the promise of oblivion, but enough consciousness
remained that he was fully aware when the silicate grasped his hips
and shoved up into his body.
Even through the haze of dimming consciousness, the pain of that invasion
wracked his body in a convulsive shudder and tears stung his eyes. His
mouth opened in a soundless gasp for breath. Instead of the futile effort
breathing had been a moment earlier, though, cold air suddenly filled
his tortured lungs.
For long moments, the sheer relief of breathing again dulled the raw
fire in his bowels. Vaguely, he was aware that the pressure across his
back was gone, that he was no longer being restrained, but the effort
to move was more than he could summon; his body felt limp, as weak as
the day he was 'born', unable to protest the silicate's violating presence.
There was still pain, but...even that was fading with each deep, slow
thrust of the silicate's organ. And, other sensations were intruding
on his consciousness. The comforting warmth of the silicate's body pressed
against his, shielding him from the cold. The brief, startling touch
of lips on his nape, not avoiding but embracing what marked him a 'tank'.
Hands caressing his shoulders, his arms, trailing down his sides. One
slid around to his groin, and careful fingers encircled his penis.
McQueen's eyes squeezed shut, and he silently mouthed 'no!' as warmth
spread through his groin. To stop breathing would have been easier than
stanching the mindless response of his body. Jaw clenched in helpless
revulsion, he felt himself hardening against the silicate's fingers
as they caressed the length of his shaft with practiced skill.
It was as if his body belonged to someone else, and he had no more
authority to command its actions... Fingers white where they gripped
the edge of the table, he couldn't stop the groan that escaped him,
nor ignore the growing heaviness in his loins that made him strain against
the silicate's touch and match the other's thrusts.
He heard someone cry out, and realized it was himself a moment before
pleasure exploded through his body in shuddering waves.
Awareness came back in degrees of pain. The first was cold. It dulled
the myriad aches in his arms and legs, but did nothing to diminish the
raw agony in his torn rectum. Slumped on his knees beside the table,
nausea churned his stomach when he saw the congealing smears of his
own semen that spattered the floor. Though he was beyond fear, he flinched
involuntarily when Elroy crouched beside him.
The silicate handed him his clothes. "It's time for you to go,
McQueen."
His fingers constricted in the fabric of his flightsuit, and McQueen
stared at him in disbelief. "Go..?"
Head cocked at an inquiring angle, the silicate suddenly looked comprehending.
He leaned forward, studying McQueen intently. "You want me to kill
you now, don't you..? Yes..I think you do. That way, you won't have
to live with what happened here.." He clucked his tongue reprovingly.
"I'm sorry, McQueen, but I'm afraid you have to live. What fun
would there be in putting you out of your misery?"
In a single agile bound, the silicate was on his feet. McQueen groaned
as Elroy's companions hoisted him up again, supporting him between them.
"Take him back to his ship, and set its course to ensure he'll
be found," he told him. "And just to make sure you don't self-
destruct before then..."
Something sharp jabbed into his bicep, and McQueen looked down in
time to see the needle withdraw from his arm. A bitter-sweet taste filled
his mouth, and the silicate's form began fading.
"Have a pleasant journey home, McQueen," Elroy said. "Think
of me often.."
The End KateM © 1996 .
The sequel to this story is Retribution also
avaliable at this site.
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