The next morning, the entire crew, except for the on-duty radar-radio spies, did an entire wash down of the Altair Beria with high pressure hoses using sea water. Tommi thought this might be overkill, as a glance to the skies saw a turbulent darkness of clouds, following them and gaining. By evening the storm was upon them with a fury.
Whether from the bucking ship, the howling wind, or a subconscious fear, she awoke in the middle of the night to find Pele’s bed empty, and a dark form standing in the doorway, highlighted by stabs of lightening flashing behind him: Kū.
He came to her, leaned down, and in one motion scooped her up and plopped her onto the vacant bed.
Tommi knew what was coming. She had seen his stares at her during the past days, knew from all her dealings with the male species what they wanted when seized with lust, and knew that all but one or two of the most despicable would not act on that desire because 99 per cent of them had a sense of honor to hold them in check, a consciousness of what was right. Not so the unregulated warrior caste, in any form, human or spirit deity, life and bodily satisfaction were theirs for the primeval taking. She had thought he might be different, might respect her as an individual. But no, he came from the ruthless past, and what had happened the previous night, that was not protection of her, that was sated blood taking, filling a deep need to conquer all living things. Tonight she was on his altar of sacrifice. She prayed that she would survive the night. A sudden thought struck: how many of her sisters of war had sacrificially accepted sexual penetration just to hope they would live, or debased themselves to feed their starving families? Tommi
Jingu was going to be raped by a god, but she wasn’t going surrender without a fight.
Flailing her fists at him she yelled, ‘no! no!’ along with a few apt sailor slurs about his manliness, and cursed the pedigree of all his ancestors until he held her down in a vise-like clamp.
He then slapped and shook her, and said harshly, “Tommi!” That stopped her struggling; he had personalized his actions by calling her name; she looked at him, and that was her mistake. A lightning bolt cut the night’s blackness and the momentary brilliance filled the cabin, so that when she looked at him, it was into his eyes. And she fell in.
They were standing on a lava ridge with the ocean as a backdrop; a light breeze blew through her hair. He stood before her naked. She met his desire by unbuttoning her blouse, undoing the side buttons on her slacks, letting the pants fall to her feet. He drew her close.
Crack! The sound rocked the ship as a luminous discharge of plasma struck the ship’s mast, exploding all the listening apertures; a blue light scoured the ship with jumping ionization; a crackling fire of electrical charges sought out all metal points within the cabin where the couple lay entwined, and the blueness pierced behind her eyelids. Consciousness came to her of knowing who she was, what she was made of, and what was happening to her.
Within a blue fog she stepped out of her body. Standing by the bed she saw who was on top of her, ripping off her bra and panties.
She closed her eyes, dissolved the he-man’s expression of angry conquest, and in her thoughts replaced Kū’s face with that of Hunter Hopewell, put a loving smile on his countenance, listened to his voice, his new persona, strong and powerful, and rested back in her body, which now lay rigid in a suspended state of non-cooperation, with paralysis of her limbs offering no emotive response, so that when the Unknown Being entered, he hurt her, for he found a dry desert cavern, and even his slaps would not shake loose one drop of lubricating wetness.
She did feel his movement--how could she not, his brutal lunges--but she did not see anything except the blue light awash with her tears, forming a mystic glow to Hunter’s face, and she cried out to herself, “Hunter, hold my soul close; tonight, I offer it only to you.”