SABIRA BOUNDED TO her feet and locked eyes with Daggeira. This wasn’t how she planned for the rites to play out, but hopes weren’t lost down the shaft yet. If she could beat her quickly enough and call forth Arrow, then all the more honor in the eyes of her crew.
“Conqueror see me,” answered Sabira, stepping over her drum and into the wedge. “Servant Daggeira, I see you. I hear your call.”
The pounding rhythms inundated her, rising in intensity with the brew’s accelerants pumping through her blood. Carried on the shuddering air, the collective anxiety and passions of thousands of servants surrounded her. With her senses enhanced by pitters brew, the musky scent was as overpowering as the resounding drums. The campaign for Target System Thirteen-Nine-Seven launched in three days, and this may be the last drum rites for many of them. The fear of death brought an unmistakable odor to the hall.
Determined to beat Daggeira quickly and without expending too much energy, Sabira lunged forward. She swung her fist at Daggeira’s face, trying to get her attention to go high as she ducked low. The misdirection worked. As Daggeira’s hands came up to defend, Sabira dropped her shoulders and drove into her. The same moment Sabira collided with her hard belly, Daggeira slammed her knee up into Sabira’s chest, right along her scar. The blow knocked some air out of her, but Sabira had her off balance and kept surging forward. Daggeira’s other foot came out from beneath her, and the two slammed to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
The accelerants in the brew urged on Sabira’s violence. It would have been easy to give in to the chemical rage. As much as Sabira wanted to earn Arrow’s respect, now she wanted to settle her grudge with Daggeira even more. She was the one who woke the grank, who called down the Warseers’ punishment, who ruined Sabira’s standing with the crew. Sabira didn’t want to just beat Daggeira. She wanted to dominate her.
But years of discipline reined in her hostility. Shift after shift the new servants had been fed pitters brew, getting them accustomed to thinking clearly and acting according to orders even as the accelerants tempted them with rage. It would mean even more punishment and dishonor if she seriously injured another servant in the rites before the upcoming invasion.
The rites were not only meant to honor the Gods and bring cohesion to the crews through the intimacies of pain and pleasure shared by the entire trident. The rites also gave them a chance to fight out their grievances while building trust that they would both stop before killing the other. When it came time to face the enemy, old grudges and rivalries would be settled and left behind.
Scrambling for position across the floor, Daggeira caught her wrist and slung her long, nimble legs across Sabira, trying to capture her arm in a lock that could potentially snap it in two. Sabira knew she was supposed to trust her not to break bones, but after what Daggeira did in the grank pens, she would be damned if she would submit. Before Daggeira could lock her arm tight, Sabira bucked, twisted, and rolled, relieving the pressure on her arm. She rolled again, pulled her arm free, and positioned herself behind her crewmate.
Without hesitation she snaked her arm across Daggeira’s throat and her legs across her hips. She pulled Daggeira’s spine against her chest as she clasped hands together, tightening the choke. Daggeira’s firm buttocks pushed into Sabira’s pelvis as she locked her legs around Daggeira’s hips. Sabira focused on controlling her breath even as she squeezed her crewmate tighter. She rolled onto her back so Daggeira was stretched out and off balance on top of her. With Sabira’s backside grinding into the floor, the nine eyes flared across her ribs and spine, but the painkillers in the brew kept it to only a minor irritation.
“No granks to hide behind now,” Sabira whispered into her ear. “Conqueror sees me this time. You’re going to sleep.”
Daggeira clawed at Sabira’s arm, trying to create enough space to breathe and grunt out a few words. “If you wanted to drill me, you should have just said so.”
Shocked, Sabira loosened her grip a little. It was all Daggeira needed. In a sudden explosion of movement, Daggeira twisted hard and fast. Sabira completely lost her grip.
Now she was flat on her back with Daggeira in the dominant top position. Sabira snapped her legs back around Daggeira’s hips to keep her from gaining an even more controlling angle. Daggeira ground the points of her hips into her while pressing her forearm hard beneath Sabira’s chin. Sweat rolled down Daggeira’s smooth scalp, mingled with the blood smeared on her brow, and dripped and dribbled onto Sabira’s eyes, blurring her vision.
Sabira clung to the back of Daggeira’s neck, trying to keep her low so she couldn’t pivot up and drop down fists and elbows. But Daggeira didn’t struggle against her to rise. Instead she pressed down harder. Sabira felt the soft pressure of Daggeira’s breasts against her scarred chest. Her mind raced to find a way out and regain dominance.
More blood and sweat dripped into Sabira’s eyes, forcing her to squeeze them shut. She would have to rely on the feel of her opponent above her until she could wipe them clear. Sabira felt another soft but firm pressure, this time on her lips. Daggeira was kissing her. A moment later the lips pulled from hers and drifted across her cheek until they brushed warm and moist over her ear. The fiery pressure building inside Sabira transformed from rage into something else.
“Ishkadil Dancer, see me,” whispered Daggeira. “Sabira, see me. I call you forth.”
Sabira lost her grip, and Daggeira rose. Sitting back on her heels, she released the grinding pressure of her hips and forearms. Sabira took the chance to wipe the blood and sweat from her eyes. She could almost see her clearly now. Daggeira looked down at her with that same knowing smile she had given her in the pens, blood dripping from her curled lips.
“What are you doing?” Sabira asked, gasping for breath.
“In three days we may be dead, so let’s show the Gods and Masters how we live,” Daggeira answered, also breathing heavily. She bent down and kissed her again, lips soft and warm and sweaty.
Sabira kissed her back.