Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek Enterprise, both in this Universe and the Alternate one. Tia Anlor and other original characters not appearing in the show are my own.
This story opens in our Universe, then moves to the Alternate Universe first introduced in TOS Episode 'Mirror, Mirror' and frequently visited in DS9. The details herein are intended to follow the Canon as established in 'In A Mirror, Darkly'. This story takes place in an unspecified time before 'I.A.M.D.'.
The Terran Empire is made up of men and women living by an amoral code that allows them to comfortably perform the most perverse acts in accomplishing their goals. Loyalty is only to one's self, yet loyalty to the Empire and the military authorities is enforced in the most brutal manner. Betrayals, subterfuge, shifting of loyalties when it serves the best interest of the individual, the attainment of power by any means necessary are the norm. If you don't know the Terran Empire, these are NOT the people you know. Catch the 'In A Mirror, Darkly' episode.
This story takes place in my on-going series somewhere between 'Cross and Crown' and 'Time Stream'.
Rating: M; Mature Content and Situations. Violence, Intrigue, Rape, Betrayal and Murder. (In other words, a typical three days in the Empire.)

Face in the Dark Mirror
By: JMK758
Crack in the Mirror

Commander Charles Tucker III, 'Trip' to his friends, leaves his refresher, still damp from his shower, and is just tying a long towel about his waist when his main door slides open. Startled, he turns to the young golden blonde woman standing in his doorway, her hands hidden behind her back.

The woman's complexion, her entire body, are tinted gold in much the same way a human's would be pink, as is natural for an Auran who'd evolved on a planet where gold is as plentiful as iron is on earth, and which performs the same basic life functions. In fact, she could pass for a human woman in her late 20's if not for this and several internal differences. But now, looking at her, the differences aren't at all apparent to Trip. "Tia!" Seeing the Auran Exobiologist is the high moment of any day.

"Dampris ilinta, Shar-les, mrunion Salyuuni," she says softly with a most appreciative smile, her voice and Auran accent ear candy to him.

x

Tia Anlor, former slave and refuge of the planet Aura, quite enjoys the view of this most handsome human, her very closest friend aboard this strange and fascinating starship. Seeing him in his uniform is an intense pleasure; he in civilian clothes is ecstasy; seeing him like this is filvaseil! Humans simply don't have a word for what it feels like.

x

"Good morning." He greets her in English. He noticed that she occasionally called him 'Salyuuni', at least since returning from Risa, but she did not explain it and he did not press an answer. He supposed it meant something like 'honey', but this was not the time to point out his continued ignorance of Auran. "Won't you come in? And close the door?" He emphasized, liking the draft on his wet skin as little as the possible exposure he risked should someone pass.

"Anston." She apologized, stepping in and allowing the door to close behind her. She kept her hands behind her back, but he took a moment to linger on what he could see.

She was wearing a very brief pale blue top of a very light material, which attached by a single button atop her left shoulder, leaving her right bare. The color, he thought, highlighted her golden tinted skin marvelously. Another single button at her left side, below the level of her breasts, was all that held the very brief material in place. It did not come even a millimeter beyond her breasts, where the button held the material hugging her body, the sheer material clinging to her.

The 'skirt' was of the same pale blue attached with a single small button at her left hip, leaving her left thigh covered, yet exposed with any step. The sheer material hung past her hips less than a centimeter this side of decency.

It was fortunate there were few 'breezy' areas aboard a starship but still, walking here, she must have been giving his fellow shipmates a tantalizing display.

Of course he knew that, to Aurans, no part of the body had any distinction above any other; that clothing served the single function of keeping warm if needed and it was usually fairly warm on Enterprise, and that the human concept of 'modesty' was just that – human. But still this was less than he had seen her wear in public in quite some time. Less, and quite better. "You look spectacular."

"Ealyiis, Shar-les. Hoped I you like would."

"I do." He looked down at himself. "But I'm afraid you caught me at a bad time," he said, indicating the towel wrapped about his middle. Granted, they had very few secrets from each other in that area, but still….

She shook her head. "Nyas, Shar-les. I you 'bad time' at milin – um, 'catch' nyasi. Each ilinta – um, morning," she corrected, finding it very hard to concentrate on English when looking at him like this, "0645 enter the refresher you do, exit at 0710, and your quarters leave at 0725 to reach the Mess Hall at 0731. Open I the door at 0710.30."

He grinned, realizing it was wholly intentional, and how carefully she had contrived it. "I've gotta be less predictable."

"Nyas," she smiled. "Fun would that be nyasi."

He noted she still kept her hands behind her back. "Tia, what do you have behind your back?" Her smile broadened as she carefully brought two silver metal covered dishes, one stacked upon the other, forward while at the same time giving an enticing wiggle of her hips.

"Wanted I to ealyiis, um – to 'thank you' for last night say. Thought I you breakfast would bring."

He smiled, vastly pleased. "There was no need to 'thank' me. In fact, I thank you. As I recall, we both had a very good time."

"Daai. Need there is," she replied with a playful smile, her silent grin saying all she did not need to speak.

"For what?" he asked, falling into her 'playful' mood. "Dinner? The movie … or 'dessert'?"

Her smile was both sweet and anticipatory as she looked at him appreciatively. "The movie for. Enjoy it much I did." For the past two Tuesdays, and for the next four coming, the crew had been watching an ancient video six film series; "Star Wars". Last evening had been 'Episode 2: Attack of the Clones'. "Though the biology wrong they get did, and Ensign Mayweather much amused by the ship flight is; much fun it was. Favorite character do I enjoy."

"Oh, who? Anakin? All the women seem to like him."

She shook her head. "Nyas. Care I him for do not. I my own 'Jedi Knight' right here have."

Trip could feel a blush rising in his face at her smile. "Well, thank you." He wasn't quite sure what to say, so tried to steer the conversation back away from him. "So, who's your favorite?"

"Yoda."

"Yoda?" he asked, surprised.

"Daai. Finally someone I see who to speak properly knows how."

Trip couldn't help but laugh, and Tia's smile showed she enjoyed his mirth as well.

x

"But before here come; knew I thing about human 'dessert' nyas," she continued, stepping past him to his desk, aware of his eyes caressing her. "Like I it more than when Hoshi and Liz we 'dessert' eat. Like yours better!"

"My own special flavor." She stopped, breath caught in her throat at the word, momentarily lost in an appreciative recollection before she could force herself to move again.

She bent to put the covered dishes down, bending quite low. She stayed for several seconds, seemingly positioning the dishes precisely, getting them just right; feeling his eyes petting her.

She smiled a grateful smile to Hoshi and Liz, who had taught her a lot about what things interested human men as opposed to Aurans, and how to go about accentuating them. It was all still very, very new for her; but she was a quick and very motivated student as she learned just what things had the best effect upon the only one who mattered.

When she straightened up quite a few seconds later, she felt his hand slip under her long, golden hair so his fingertips touched the side of her neck.

She gasped sharply, freezing involuntarily for an instant as he touched her lightly, the only sound she could make a quick sharp exclamation, her soft high exclamation of pleasure that communicated her sensations far better than English or Auran words. As he gently caressed the side of her neck with just his fingertips, every sharp breath became a moan or high exclamation of sensual joy. He 'tickled' her from behind her ear to her shoulder as her high breaths quickened, her chest starting to heave as he almost brought her over.

The spot, on each side of her throat, was one of several erogenous areas for Aurans that were their close secrets. More than once, with people completely unaware of what was going on beside them, he had given her private and unknown pleasure. One time, during a concert in a crowded and darkened 'theater', he had brought her to a satisfying and intensely fiery orgasm with no one nearby even aware.

His left hand slipped under her arm to open the button on her pale blue top, letting it hang freely now almost curtaining her full breasts as his hands came up under it, cupping her as his lips replaced his fingers at her throat. She gave a soft ecstatic cry as his lips found just the right spot. Her hands came back to seek him, finding all she could reach from behind as she caressed his flesh, still at this moment warmer than hers. She leaned back against him, feeling his hot chest damp against her back.

Humans were about two degrees warmer than Aurans under normal conditions, but she was well aware that they were both getting rapidly warmer; and that her body heat would far surpass his maximum long before they were relaxed again. He had, in fact, more than once commented on her hot body 'burning him', both inside and out. Having thought that brief, rational thought, she threw away any rational 'interference'.

He held her cupped in his hands, his thumbs stroking her tiny golden nubs lightly, feeling them respond to his touch as his lips pressed hotly to her neck. Her color was high, every breath was punctuated by a small mewling of pleasure that couldn't be contained, growing in pace and pitch.

Her left hand left him for a moment to fumble with the button at her shoulder, and a moment later her pale blue top fluttered down to the floor.

"This is like another Earth custom," he told her, his lips at her throat as she leaned back to him, snuggling into his chest, the vibration of his words sending shivers of delight through her.

"What that is?" she gasped.

"Breakfast in bed."

"Ohh. Oh, Aura. How served is that?"

"Usually very fresh." He caressed her as she pressed her saucy bottom into him, wiggling about until she settled on just the right spot. "Hot." His left hand drifted downward along her hip, slipping under the pale blue skirt, finding her. "Moist."

She cried out loudly as he touched her. Moving wildly against him, he barely able to hold on, she gasped sharply and his right hand leapt to her mouth an instant before she screamed.

He almost lost his grip and support of her as he tried to muffle her shrill cry, and he flashed back to their first time together, when her first experience of fulfillment with him had shattered every piece of glass (shower included) in his quarters.

He'd learned to read her quickly after that.

She rode his body, unable to do anything else until the first wave passed and she leaned back against his body with a contented sigh. But as his hand cautiously came down again, he discovered she was far from sated.

She turned quickly, her left hand undoing the tiny button at her hip, the other tugging at the tie of his towel. The garments raced one another to the floor. "Oh," she gasped excitedly. "Found I breakfast have!"

He pulled her close, kissing her passionately, her body scorching his. He'd never thought of testing her temperature at these times, and didn't think of it now. He knew the answer would be startling, but that was not the emotion he sought right now.

He kissed her fervently, their tongues dueling sensuously, and she returned measure for measure. But this was not an Auran gesture; she kissed him because she knew he enjoyed it, and his lips found her throat again as she cried out, reaching for him.

"Tia?"

"Daai?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch, her chest heaving against his as she gasped, her body like a furnace.

"Those plates," he whispered scorchingly against her throat as she cried out in mounting ecstasy.

"Daai?" she gasped.

"They're empty, aren't they?"

"Daai!"

XXXXX XXXXX

Tia Anlor pushed the large, heavy breakfast cart out of the turbolift onto the dimness of E-deck, trying not to limp, favoring her sore right hip. This area, like the rest of the ship, seemed perpetually shrouded in the low light, three-quarters of what she considered normal for Aura. Most of the ship's power, she knew, was devoted to weapons control, but she wondered if the humans really wanted it brighter, or if they preferred not to be able to see their privations.

She was shaking, trying to ignore the ache in her right breast from the hard squeeze Harry Sanders had given her before she'd managed to escape his quarters. Sometimes, listening to men like him, she wished the translator device could be turned off so she didn't have to listen to all his vile plans.

She'd pled that she had to deliver the rest of the breakfasts, particularly to the Officer's deck, and would let them know the reason for her lateness. That was the only way she had managed to escape, but he'd taken his frustration out on her in pain.

But now the 'refuge' she had pretended this deck to be was shown to be a lie, and it became what it really was; a nightmare gauntlet to be traversed as she had to every eight hours.

Gamma/Alpha shift change. Gamma was one thing, they had not been relieved yet and she could just leave their dinners in their quarters. But Alpha shift had not yet started; she would meet each of those people, and have to deal with over a score of personalities, none of them kind. Most of the Officers were on E deck, and almost all of them were Alphas.

Stopping for a moment, she checked the pale gray 'dress' she wore as her only article of clothing, for she did not even have any shoes, let alone undergarments. Most of the slaves had at least that much; but when it became known that Auran custom gave no consideration to any particular parts of bodies above others, nor to clothing outside the functional and necessary protection against the elements, she was reduced to only the single outer garment. Someone's perverse decision left her without even undergarments, and she determinedly said nothing, never allowing anyone to see how she felt about this. It had been done to hurt her, and to allow that hurt to be known would only satisfy her unseen tormentor.

However, she took great care to preserve her one article of clothing, and examined it carefully, relieved it was not damaged. She'd been up late sewing it back together along the new 'seam' that ran now from the deep V between her breasts to the hem, and her best efforts were not a strong mending at all. It was true that Aurans had no particular care about clothing beyond the purely functional, and on her world her favorites had usually run to long, flowing styles in floral colorings, but here the garment she was given had become an indispensable necessity. She knew many of the men would not object if she were to remove it; they tried often enough to do it themselves, and yesterday evening one had before satisfying his Terran lusts on her body. But some women objected strongly indeed, and could be very vindictive if she were to 'expose herself' to a man they found desirable.

Expose herself. There was the biggest Terran joke of all. How many times had she been forced to submit, not daring to defend herself, to the lustful demands of a ship full of men who cared nothing for her feelings or her will? At least, most of the time, she managed to escape violence through compliance. Most didn't try to hurt her, most just wanted to use her; but there were those who seemed addicted to pain – the pain of others.

Worst of them all, she thought with a shudder, was Lt. Hoshi Sato, the Communications Chief. That woman was a vindictive terror; cruel, merciless, and manipulative. That manipulative nature had led her to ultimately winning the favor of the Captain; and as the 'Captain's Woman' she got away with so much, and openly used her position for her own benefit and pleasure. Tia occasionally wondered if Sato spent time thinking of ways to make her life more miserable, but she knew from the others that she was not being particularly singled out. Sato was just one mean, vindictive karpatchi!

x

It was so different now than when she'd been brought on board. On her home world she had been a highly trained guerrilla warrior working against the Silurians, until she and her team had escaped from the Silurians on one of their own ships. But that ship had been caught, damaged, and she was the only survivor. When she was found by Enterprise, and brought aboard, she had fought rather than be taken and enslaved again. But every time she fought, they won, most times because the Terrans knew how to deal with resistance, sometimes by sheer numbers alone.

It began weeks of torment, where any hesitation to obey an order, or any resistance was met with floggings or merciless beatings. And after they had reduced her to an agonized wreck crawling on the floor, she still had to fulfill the commands they had given her.

Finally, the Terrans did what a planet full of Silurians could not. They broke her.

When life consisted of one merciless beating after another, she began to give in, to submit, to do anything she could to lessen the beatings. Gradually they diminished as she learned compliance, submission, but always there was the threat of more pain, a pain she found she could no longer endure. They'd broken her spirit. They'd broken her courage. Now all her life consisted of was menial drudgery she could never escape, not when the Empire controlled all of space.

Now this was all she had left; work, pain and satisfying the lusts of any man who fancied her for an hour's recreation.

x

She started pushing the heavy cart again, needing a shove to get it started. Decks D & E were her assigned areas; and she rarely made it twice through and around the huge saucer in time. The food was always late from the galley. By the time she was done serving breakfasts and dinners to the changing shifts, she was always late and collected a lot of abuse at the end of her rounds for it. Occasionally, she was relieved it was verbal. Sometimes, and these times she dreaded, it was not. Then there were the days that some delayed her with 'extra demands'.

She stopped in front of the first assigned quarters on E deck, her least favorite, Commander Charles Tucker III, Chief of Engineering. Immediately the scar burned into her left breast twinged in remembered pain. She vividly recalled the day she'd gotten the scar from him, the one he ordered the doctor never to heal, though the Denobulan Medical Officer did a reasonable job in keeping her other injuries from crippling her.

Tucker had sent for her to come to Engineering, her least favorite place to visit due to the faulty warp shielding that had taken half the man's face, leaving it a hideous mask of burned scar tissue. She'd been in her second week as a captive slave aboard this battleship, and had made the monumentally stupid mistake of refusing his advances, unable to deal with the horror of his visage. An hour later he had summoned her to Engineering. She'd gone in with high trepidation, knowing to expect something unpleasant but having no idea how horrible it was to be.

She remembered with crystal clarity how he'd gripped her throat, slamming her hard into the bulkhead, his tight one-handed grip strangling her. She couldn't breathe or make a sound against his grip, but had already learned well enough not to raise a hand in her own defense; scores of very thorough, very professional beatings by the MACO soldiers had cured her of that instinctive mistake. Besides, if he was going to strangle her it would only free her of this nightmare.

But then he'd pulled the top of her dress down, exposing her to the gathered men. Scared as she was, she had only been expecting gang rape or death – one not unusual either here or home, and the other a release. But then she saw the small glowing 'T' at the end of the rod held before her eyes, and fear leapt quickly through terror to panic as she realized what he intended to do.

It was a 'T' junction, attached to a metal rod and placed to interrupt the high tension charge across a circuit. The metal was not damaged, but had grown bright orange-red, almost white hot.

He'd aimed just above her left nipple, and she heard the loud searing of her flesh as, even against his strangling grip, she'd shrieked! She could smell the horrible stench of burning flesh as her screech ended and, strangled, she could only stand pinned to the wall and feel the terrible agony before everything had gone black.

When she'd woken up on the deck, pain was the first, virtually the only sensation she knew. The letter 'T' had been seared into her flesh, about two centimeters tall, black and burnished with golden blood, just above her areola. She had had to put herself back together and stagger out of Engineering as everyone went about his own business, completely ignoring the brutalized slave.

That had been, she'd thought, the worst thing she could possibly experience since escaping from the Silurians on Aura, all her friends killed in battle, and she being captured by a salvage crew which had found the derelict ship. That crew had been led by a monstrous Chief Engineer who'd found a beauty and had claimed – and ultimately marked – her for his own.

But that marking had been eight months ago, and she had since learned that there were more and greater, and more varied horrors for her to endure as a member of the slave class on this flagship of the Empire.

x

Now she hesitated in front of the door of this monster in human form, trying to work up the courage to enter. He'd tried to mark her as his own, and when he had been overruled by Captain Forrest, he'd gotten far more unpleasant, far more physical.

But her fear of him was overwhelmed only by the knowledge of what awaited her if she was late on her rounds. Taking a tray off the cart, she pressed the annunciation button. A moment later the door slid open. Offering a quick, fervent prayer to Aura, she stepped across the threshold.

"You're late."

For an instant her golden eyes flicked to the tall man dressed in the blue uniform, his face a nightmare. The scars that marked the right side of his face had pulled his eye downward, perpetually half closed, while the radiation had also prematurely grayed a shock of hair on that side of his head. But the scars on his face, frightening though they were, only gave a clear view of the scars in his soul. She cast her eyes down demurely, trying to repress a shudder. "Well? Put it down," he commanded savagely.

Hurriedly she crossed the room to the table, carefully and quietly setting down the tray upon it, trying to balance speed with perfection of placement, and avoiding any clatter. She did not believe she was late; she kept careful track of the chronometer, but she did not dare contradict him. Just put it down and get out. Don't look at him. Don't show how afraid she was. Just get out!

She left the table, having settled everything perfectly, and hurried across the room to the door, trying not to look like she was running away. "Stop!"

She'd made it only half way to the door, but stopped instantly. She didn't look up from the floor as she tried to fight the trembling that grew in her body. She heard him come closer; saw his feet as he stepped in front of her. "Look at me."

She did not want to do that. She couldn't school her expression, her eyes, enough to hide her fear of, her loathing for, this monster. But she knew what it meant to refuse Charles Tucker's orders.

As hard and ruthless as he was in the domain he ruled as a prince who would be King, he was even more merciless with her.

Slowly her eyes rose as she picked her head up, scanning over his body, up his chest and the collection of silver medals. She did not know what they were for, and had never wanted to find out.

Even the uniform seemed designed to inspire terror in those that saw it. What kind of people would adopt as their symbol a sword slicing through their own planet? Or crossed swords almost quartering their own ship? Or a belt bristling with so many weapons it needed a leather shoulder strap to hold it in place?

She looked further up, past the black and silver epaulets proclaiming his rank, to his face. She wanted to hide how scared she was, but her breath came in short, fast gasps and her chest heaved with her effort not to pass out from the terror.

The scars on the right side of his face which distorted his features, pulling his eye out of place, and the shock of gray hair by that eye, only served to show the distortion within. There was coldness, mercilessness that even many of his crewmates did not exhibit. It was like he was forever punishing the universe for his disfigurement.

Tia knew one thing about this face; it kept the Terran women away, at least those that had a choice. There were still many he could order to comply, or compel in some manner, but she knew no woman came willingly to him.

He knew it too, all too well, and that knowledge fueled the terrible resentment within him. Those he had to compel to his bed, and that was every woman below his own rank, did not enjoy the experience.

But worst of all was the way he treated her. With Tia, he barely had to compel or order her submission – he had the right to simply take her and he used it. But even when she gave in to him, mostly to avoid being hurt, there was always that anger, that resentment in him, that found expression in her discomfort, in her pain.

And she knew that he simply did not care. He could have her, and use her to work off the tension and resentments of the day, and she could do nothing to prevent it.

She had never faced him over these months when he had not hurt her in some way, until she grew to fear him more than any other being. Worse, he came to represent to her all the horrors of this Empire. Other than the Silurians who had decimated her planet, she did not think she could come to hate another living being, but it was not so.

If there was one man in all the cosmos that Tia Anlor truly, passionately hated, it was Charles Tucker!

x

Not daring to look away from the horrible visage of his face, she felt him reach out to her. She tried to endure his touch, but her spirit quailed within her. Briefly she tried to imagine, seeing the undamaged side of his face, what he would look like if he were not so horribly scarred. She desperately tried to make herself less afraid, trying to force herself to imagine this.

She felt his left hand on the deep 'V' of her gray dress; and the forced image dissolved as her fear overwhelmed her. He pulled the material out and his eyes dipped down. Her gaze fell off his as she dared now to follow his look. He was looking down her dress at her heaving gold tinted breasts, but where others would care about them as a sexual sight, she knew he was just as interested in his mark upon her. She looked up at him, seeing his smile at the view and the merciless glint in his eyes. "Please." She whispered, her voice shuddering in her terror. "Please."

"I think what you've got in there will make a tastier breakfast."

"Please, Commander Tucker," she begged, starting to tremble more. She tried to keep from crying as her terror mounted. "Please don't. I have much more food to deliver. Please, sir!"

"You were mine. You still bear my mark – and you will all your life. He thinks he took you from me, but you are mine." He grabbed her breast tightly with his right hand, making her cry out in pain, in overwhelming terror. She cringed, her legs giving out under her. She clamped her mouth shut with one hand, trying not to scream as he squeezed tightly, crushing her sensitive flesh. She longed to be able to fight back, if only she could dare. "Did you go to him? Is that it? Did you ask him to interfere?"

"No, sir. Please. I did nothing." He squeezed tighter, really hurting her as she screamed. "I did nothing!"

He released her, and then brought his hand up hard and fast, backhanding her across her right cheek. She cried out as much in fear as pain, her hand going to her stinging face. "Get it off," he commanded tightly.

She tried to keep from crying, knowing she was lost. She did not want this – ever – but how could she stop it?

But if she was late, she was going to be punished. No one down the line cared why she was late, just that she was late. And their punishments …

"Please, Commander. I still have to deliver to Captain For–" She realized her mistake in mentioning his name as she would for others as his hand came up even harder to slap her left cheek, the crack echoing off the close walls as she was knocked a foot back. She regained her footing, trying to cover both cheeks. "Please, Sir. Please!" He advanced on her, fury contorting his already horrible features. He grabbed her right hand, pulling it down. She couldn't evade his left fist as it caught her under her jaw, knocking her to her left to slam into the bulkhead.

Momentarily stunned, trying to push back off the bulkhead, she couldn't prevent him from grasping her shoulders, turning her and slamming her backward into the steel. She barely managed to duck her head to keep from being knocked senseless. Still she remembered her 'lessons' and kept her hands down at her sides. "Please, sir. Please. Have mer–" He grabbed her collar in a tight, two fisted grip. "No, Please!" she cried, panicking. "I just fix –!" She wailed in torment as the material, barely sewn well enough to hold together under normal wear, parted from collar to hem and was yanked viciously off her shoulders and down her arms to fall to the floor behind her.

She cared less that she was naked than that she would have to complete her rounds with what little, if anything, was left of the garment. "Please, Commander. Please." She did not dare try to cover her body. "When I finish my rounds I'll come back. I promise. Please!"

She never saw his right fist before it slammed brutally into her stomach and she doubled over with an agonized, ragged cry.

Tucker grabbed her long golden hair and yanked upward, slamming her head back against the bulkhead. The pain in her head almost making her pass out, Tia stood clutching her stomach, trying to start breathing again. She couldn't get the rhythm back, gasping brokenly, unable to get air into her lungs. She tried to put her hands up as he started hitting her over and over again, his punches pinning her to the wall.

She couldn't defend herself, didn't dare try as he beat her mercilessly as she stood screaming for mercy, screaming for help that would never, ever come. She knew that, as badly as he was beating her body, punishing her in his fury for being taken from him, if she tried to stop it, it would be infinitely worse. Dazed and helpless, she tasted blood flowing back into her mouth, felt it trailing down her face. She was so battered she could not even try to get away, could barely think.

Finally, after an unknown time measured only in pain, he stopped and she fell to her knees, pitching forward, barely conscious to fall upon her face. She was semi-aware of being moved, but could do nothing to prevent it until she felt his weight come down upon her and a searing pain, worse than the branding, knifed into her.

Over her scream, the intercom sounded. "Bridge to Tucker. You're late for your shift."

"I'm busy!" he yelled, as he tore another scream from her. From where she lay on the floor, Tia could see the intercom light did not go out as she kept screaming. Whoever was there was listening to her rape, certainly enjoying it; and she couldn't even try to quiet herself or him. Tucker assaulted her even harder, her screams echoing through the room as he ripped more pain from her helpless body.

x

When he got up off her, leaving her on the floor; he fixed his uniform and stepped over her bruised and battered body, the door opening and closing a moment later.

Tia Anlor lay still upon the floor, unable to tell one pain from another. She couldn't get up. She was beaten so badly, used so brutally, that she could not move. Her body was already covered with dozens of bruises from his fists. Her face felt wet with golden blood, and she could feel more of it flowing from her violated flesh.

And she knew she was late. She couldn't get up, but she still had a deck of meals to deliver. She was going to be punished for being late, and each person down the line could take what punishments he or she deemed fit.

It didn't matter why she was late.

She was going to be punished for this!

Left alone on Charles Tucker's floor, Tia began to cry.