fredbassett | Fic, Silk and Steel, Part 12

Title : Silk and Steel, Part 12
Authors :

munchkinofdoom
Fandom : Primeval
Characters : Lester, Nick, Connor, Ryan, Stephen, Abby, Stringer, Jenny, Leek
Rating : 18
Disclaimer : Not ours, no money made, don’t sue
Spoilers : None.
Summary : Nick is forced to participate in the Rites of Indenture.
Warning : Slave!fic!
A/N : The remainder of the series can be found here

The atrium of the Anomaly Research Centre was awash with white. A mass of kneeling, white garbed figures were lined up, sometimes as many as three deep, all facing outward toward their soon-to-be masters. Behind the Section Heads stood the black garbed Special Forces soldiers, one on either side of every possible exit. The expanse of white, dotted with the black of the guards and circled by the stark grey metal of the curving wall, was jarring and the whole scene gave Nick Cutter the creeps.

Those kneeling waited, heads bowed, arms at rest at their sides. Unmoving. It was obscene and Nick wanted nothing more than to turn and run. But he could feel eyes upon him and he looked up to meet Sir James Lester’s gaze, high up on the encircling walkway.

Lester began to walk, taking slow measured strides, Captain Ryan keeping perfect time behind him, down the ramp and onto the floor of the atrium, finally coming to stand beside Nick. Lester nodded, then turned to face those waiting to be collared, his gaze hovering briefly over the three bodies huddled at Nick’s feet, before turning his attention to the woman kneeling in front of him. Lester gave a small smile and nodded reassuringly down at his secretary, Lorraine. Nick could see her relax slightly, obviously grateful for her employer’s seeming benevolence.

Nick wished to God he was in a position to offer such reassurances to his team members knelt before him, but it was beyond him. It was taking all his strength to just stand there and not gibber like a lunatic. And wouldn’t Leek, the bastard, just love that!

Lester starting talking, and Nick’s attention drifted away. He stared at the floor, determined not to look up and risk meeting the gaze of any of the other Section Heads, terrified that he’d be unable to control himself if he saw that slimy sod from Physics or even worse, Leek, smirking. Lester droned on, moving forward suddenly, and Nick flinched away from him.

Fingers fluttered at the edge of his vision and Nick started, looked up, and was caught by Connor’s concerned gaze. Connor’s eyes widened and his face scrunched a little, as though he was desperate to say something, and Nick panicked for a moment and started to take a step backward. Which just made Connor glare at him. Then the student’s stare shifted to Lester and back to Nick. Then over to Lester and back again to Nick.

Bloody hell! Lester had stopped talking and was gazing at Nick, one eyebrow raised, his lips pursed as if he had been sucking lemons. At any other time, Nick would have enjoyed that look, knowing he’d caused it, but his heart seemed to have stopped in his chest, and was now trying to climb up his oesophagus and choke him.

Someone, God only knew who they were, because Nick couldn’t ever remember seeing them before, stepped forward, offering Nick a thin, brushed metal collar in one hand and a small tool in the other.

Nick wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers and took the collar.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped towards Abby, meeting her gaze squarely, and trying to summon what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he slipped the impossibly light steel band around her throat. He could hear her breathing deeply as she held herself still, never taking her eyes from his face. Reaching out, not looking up, the key was placed in his hand and Nick fiddled with the strange locking mechanism, making several attempts before he heard the sharp click of the collar’s catch.

The noise sounded freakishly loud to him, and Nick was amazed at how Abby managed to remain so collected in spite of it. Finally it was done and, as Nick took a step to the right, lining himself up with Stephen, Abby gave one last, small smile and nodded at him, almost as though she was absolving him from his actions. He felt tears in his eyes, and blinked furiously.

Stephen stared up at him, blue eyes unblinking, holding a combination of challenge and fear which made Nick’s stomach churn. Lester’s words from yesterday jumped back into his mind and he came close to recoiling again.

What the hell did his Personnel files contain if Lester honestly believed he’d ever had a desire to see Stephen kneeling at his feet in something that looked all too sickeningly like a bastardised Degree Ceremony or even worse, some obscene parody of an adult baptism? He was just thankful that branding irons weren’t involved. Maybe that was one of the small mercies that Connor had been on about last night.

Opening the collar as wide as possible, Nick tried to slip it round Stephen’s neck without touching the younger man’s flesh. He failed. His knuckles brushed against warm skin. Nick heard Stephen’s breath hiss in through his teeth as he fumbled again with the key, touching his neck a second time as he finally managed to get the collar locked at the third attempt.

Nick stepped back, looking down at the assistant who had worked with him for the last eight years. The assistant who had actually fucked his wife. Nick corrected that mentally to ex-wife. Wide blue eyes held his, and he saw, rather than heard, Stephen mouth the words, “I’m sorry,” before he dropped his gaze and stared intently at the floor in front of Nick’s feet.

His hand reached out to Stephen’s downturned head as if of its own volition, almost touching Stephen’s hair, only to be stopped short and shocked back into his surroundings by an almost inaudible squeak from Connor. Nick froze, catching Stephen’s wide, startled eyes. They held each others’ gaze for a long moment, then Nick dared just a brief nod, praying that Stephen understood.

Finally, tears blurring his vision, Nick moved on to Connor, to be met by an exasperated glare. Nick shrugged. He could feel the almost undivided attention of the assemblage on him. He didn’t need Connor to tell him he was making an ass of himself in public. He knew it perfectly well.

Breaking eye contact with Connor, Nick looked up at the attendant waiting expectantly for him, another collar in her outstretched hand. He took it, sniffed back the remains of his tears and straightened his back. Connor just rolled his eyes and Nick could almost hear the ‘get on with it’ behind the student’s gesture. Nick stifled an inappropriate grin, rolled his eyes back and got on with it.

Connor was quickly collared, and Nick risked a quick brush across his chin with a knuckle in passing. It felt like Connor hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. The younger man rolled his eyes again and stared past Nick toward Lester. Nick straightened, glanced to his left and was met by a smirk.

“We don’t have all day, Professor Cutter, enjoyable as this is. Now would you mind hurrying it up a little?”

Nick nodded, and began to speak. “I, Nicholas Cutter …” His voice sounded high pitched, even to his own ears, and was met with a muffled chuckle from across the atrium. Nick grimaced, caught Leek’s amused smirk, and cleared his throat for a second attempt. “I, Nicholas Cutter, a loyal and duly appointed officer of the Crown, so swear that I will undertake the duties of stewardship over the indentured placed under my care to the best of my ability. I do swear to keep them from harm, show impartiality in my dealings with them, and be ever mindful of their needs and aspirations.”

Nick sighed with relief. Whoever had dreamed that oath up either had a sick sense of humour or no concept whatsoever of how practice differed from theory, but it was done. Now all he had to do was live with it.

“Excellent,” Lester remarked beside him. “Now, moving on ….”

Nick tuned him out again. His part was done. He looked down and was greeted with an approving nod from Abby and a surreptitious thumbs up from Connor. Nick grinned at the pair of them and didn’t care who saw it.

Then he looked down at Stephen, only to find his assistant staring intently at the floor again. A lump came to Nick’s throat as Abby looked up at him and then turned her head toward Stephen. Her eyes softened and she reached out, grasping the hand resting limply at his side. She glanced up at Nick for a moment, nodded, and then turned her attention back to Stephen. Stephen’s gaze met hers and he smiled briefly, and for a moment, they leaned toward each other until their heads nestled together, dark and light, and their eyes settled downward again.

Time passed, and Nick drifted, aware only of distant voices, the occasional cough, and movement on the periphery of his vision. His team stayed still, heads down, not even Connor daring to lift his head or speak.

“No! You can’t do this! I never agreed to this!”

The voice rang out, sharp, sudden, pulling Nick from his reverie. He looked up to find all heads, including those of his team members, craning toward a crowd nestled beneath the ramp. Soldiers surged forward, rushing to contain a tall, heavy-set man dressed in white. The as yet uncollared man was on his feet, backing away from his Section Head, continuing to yell even as he struggled with the soldiers. Nick recognised him as coming from Butterfield’s team, in Physics, and as ever, the man was less than useful in a crisis, standing around ineffectually, sweat springing out on his upper lips as he waved his hands in the direction of his agitated subordinate.

“No! I won’t do this! You can’t –“

The man’s voice cut off suddenly, and Nick could see black garbed figures holding him, leaning close and talking urgently. Nick couldn’t hear what was being said over the hubbub of raised voices around him – voices both amused and fearful. The man’s face froze with fear, and he shook his head, crying, “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it!’ even as he was being led away. Butterfield watched, but made no move to follow. Protecting his people didn’t appear to be high on his list of priorities.

“Oh, fuck it, everything’s going to go to hell now.”

Nick jumped at the sound of Ryan’s voice next to him. He turned to find the captain leaning close to Lester, all the while speaking urgently into his throat mike and beckoning to someone across the room. Captain Stringer weaved his way through the heaving mass of while and joined them, nodding absently to Nick. The soldier’s hand rested gently, almost absently, on Abby’s head. Nick was surprised to see Stringer glance down, smile reassuringly at Abby, then turn his attention to Lester.

“We need to get the indentured out of here now, sir. If any more of them panic we’ll have a feeding frenzy on our hands,” Stringer warned.

“There are still two sections yet to be collared, Captain,” replied Lester. “I’d rather we didn’t have to reschedule them. I have a busy enough day tomorrow as it is.”

“The natives are getting restless, sir, with respect.”

Nick started at Stringer’s words, and he turned to look, really look, at his surroundings. People huddled together, some visibly sobbing, others trying to comfort their colleagues despite their own fear.

Some of the managers were on their knees, talking earnestly to their subordinates, others stood back, confused, unsure of what to do. A few stalked the edges of the white garbed mass of bodies, their faces feral even as they held their distance. It was no surprise to see that Leek was amongst the predators.

“Oh God,” Nick muttered, “we need to get my team out of here now.”

Ryan nodded. “We planned for this, Professor.” Ryan beckoned Ditzy over, all the while casting his gaze over the atrium. Nick could see other soldiers he recognised – Blade, Finn, Kermit, together with a few members of Stringer’s team – moving among the throng, their hands resting on their pistols, but as yet no-one had drawn a weapon.

“Ditz, go for it,” Ryan directed, and Ditzy moved to Abby and Stephen, raising both of them to their feet. “Connor, you too. Go.”

Connor nodded and scrambled upright, his eyes wide. Ditzy left the atrium with the three of them in tow.

“Where are they going?” Nick demanded.

“The infirmary,” replied Captain Stringer.

Nick looked askance.

“It’s easy to secure, Professor. All the soldiers have orders, no movement to or from the infirmary without an armed escort. Your team will be safe there.”

All around them looked, to Nick, to be in complete chaos. Then he realised that soldiers were corralling individual sections together, escorting out those already collared en masse, their Section Heads trailing behind. Other soldiers were gathering together those yet to be collared, picking up the stragglers, sometimes almost from out of the hands of would-be abusers.

Nick felt sickened. Those stalking the perimeter were men and women in positions of trust and power, and they held expressions which looked, to Nick, to be almost demonic. Eyes tracked around the room, selecting their prey, the tension ramping up as, time after time, soldiers beat them to their target.

There were too many bodies, too few soldiers. Nick knew it was only a matter of time before stragglers would be spirited away to face God only knows what depravities. He had to do something.

“No!” Ryan commanded, grabbing Nick’s arm. “Don’t do anything stupid, Professor. Let my men handle it. We know what we’re doing.”

“It’s getting out of hand!”

“No, Professor. Let us do our job,” Ryan asserted. Then the captain turned to Lester. “Sir, I’d strongly advise we cancel the rest of the ceremony. Surely we can continue when everyone has calmed down?”

“No, Captain. We finish this now.” Lester’s eyes were pure steel. It startled Nick, reminding him that this was not his world, not his time. Nothing of this timeline was his. It was wrong. So very wrong. And he was deathly afraid that it was going to get worse.

Ryan and Stringer straightened their backs, Stringer opening his mouth to speak.

“No.” Lester was firm. “We finish this now. You have my permission to use force. Do your duty, Captain.”

Stringer nodded, dropping his gaze to the ground at Lester’s feet. For a horrified moment, Nick thought that Stringer was about to kneel. But the captain stepped back, saluted then faced away to return to his men. He never once met Lester’s steely stare. Nick shivered.

“Captain Ryan.”

“Sir,” Ryan stood to attention.

“Call Ms. Lewis. Have her see to Lorraine. Then ensure the facility is in total lockdown. No-one moves in or out until this is done. Understood?”

Nick looked down, suddenly realising that Lester’s secretary was still huddled at her employer’s feet, terrified. Nick looked up to see Ryan’s hand lift to his earpiece, and shortly after, Jenny entered the atrium, a soldier at her side. She swept in, helped Lorraine to her feet, nodded to both Lester and Ryan, and swept out again, high heels clacking like angry woodpeckers on the polished floor. Nick would have been bemused if he hadn’t already been so horrified by the situation around him.

Everywhere Nick looked, soldiers were grabbing the remaining white garbed bodies, herding them into a tight group, pushing them to their knees, raising batons against any who dared to resist. Here and there, amongst the almost overpowering expanse of white, splashes of red began to appear.

Leek stalked over toward Lester, face frozen in an almost feral grimace. He stopped almost too close to his employer, as ever showing scant regard for personal space, uncharacteristically forceful, his meek façade completely abandoned.

At Nick’s side, Ryan stiffened and his hand dropped to his gun.

“No.” Lester said. Leek opened his mouth, Nick assumed, to argue. “No. We will finish this now and we will finish it with as much decorum as we can muster, Leek. You can no doubt find some poor unfortunate to grope later, but for now, kindly allow my soldiers to do their jobs.”

Leek glared, then nodded with obvious reluctance and turned to face the huddled throng. Nick noted that he didn’t walk away, though. Nick, for the life of him, had no idea what was going on. He was hard-pressed just to maintain what little composure he had left. He was all too aware of Ryan standing close by, vigilant as ever, never letting his attention waver from any perceived threat to his master.

Finally, the soldiers were able to achieve some semblance of calm.

From the far side of the room, Stringer glanced over at Ryan and nodded. Ryan raked the room with his eyes, and when he was satisfied that there was no immediate danger, he slipped like a dark shadow behind his master, as Lester commenced a slow, measured walk around the boundary of the kneeling mass of people.

Lester made a full circuit of the atrium, fastidiously avoiding any blood smeared tiles, coming to a stop again beside Nick and Leek, then he nodded to the two captains, who in turn relayed orders by radio to their men.

Soldiers moved quickly through the crowd, fixing collars in place with brutal efficiency, while Captain Stringer locked each one in place with the key, the deft movements of his hands never faltering. Nick watched Leek’s eyes tracking the captain’s progress, sometimes licking his lips, eyes dilated, a light sheen of sweat coating his forehead. Nick wanted to punch the bastard. But more than that, he wanted a hot shower. His skin felt tight, dirty, and Nick wanted to scrub and scrub at himself until he bled. But enough blood had been spilt already, and for all he knew, it hadn’t finished yet.

Captain Stringer finally stood straight, turned to Lester, and saluted.

It was done.

“I, James Lester, a loyal and duly appointed officer of the Crown, ……...” And for the final time, Sir James Lester spoke words redolent with hypocrisy as he cast his impassive gaze over the sobbing, bruised and bloody men and women huddled before him.

Nick’s hands were balled into fists and he dug his nails hard into his own palms.

“Get these people out of my sight, and make sure those who resisted are properly supervised,” Lester said.

Nick gagged at the menace behind the innocent phrase.

Soldiers moved forward, herding the indentured away, separating out the bloodied. Then, as the room emptied, leaving Lester, Leek, Stringer, Ryan and a few stragglers, Nick saw Ryan move from his position behind Lester’s right shoulder, stepping in front of him, and bowing his head. Then, to Nick’s horror, the captain dropped to his knees, head still bowed.

“Your orders have been carried out, Master. The ceremony is complete.”

Lester reached his hand out, softly, brushing his knuckles against Ryan’s cheek, then his long fingers dropped to Ryan’s throat and stroked possessively around the steel band, eyes darkened with the same lust Nick had seen on too many faces already today.

He couldn’t stand any more. Nick turned, flinching from Leek’s mocking gaze, and fled.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

lukadreaming.livejournal.com

Oh wow. Fuck. That's one of the most powerful pieces of writing I've come across. I was reading through my fingers by the end, and I'm not sure I shall be able to put it out of my mind . . .

From:

fredbassett

Thanks! I think that was the sort of reaction we were hoping for to this scene. My Evil Twin was lead writer on this one! See, I drag her kicking and screaming into writing and this is what happens.

From:

munchkinofdoom.livejournal.com

*pets Luka*

I think you pretty much got the reaction I was hoping for. *veg*

It's funny - I had trouble telling, from this side of the monitor, if it was actually tense enough. Which is why I decided we needed a freak-out. Fred squealed at that point and the whole scene went berserk on me.

Nervous writer on board! Fred's been doing a lot of handholding. *g*

*squishes the bassett hound*

Fic, Silk and Steel, Part 12

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