The idea of Om’bobla—who was not a trustworthy male—anywhere near Emilia, made the Rage come on him fast and hard. It swept over him like a wildfire—a berserker fury that came over all Kindred warriors when their female was threatened. In this state, Rarev would kill first and ask questions afterwards—the squid man was going to pay for whatever he had done—pay with his life!
These were his thoughts as he burst into the fresher and roared, “What the fuck is going on in here? What are you doing to my female?”
But his Rage receded somewhat in confusion at what he saw.
There was Om’bobla, all right—the aquatic alien was on his knees, blubbering and howling. And there was Emilia, a few feet away. She was standing in front of a sink and holding something that squirmed and wiggled in her grasp. She was washing it vigorously under a tap that was spouting strong-smelling foamy soap and the squid man was begging her to stop.
“No!” he blubbered, pulling on a thick tentacle that appeared to be connected to his crotch. “No, please—you’ll ruin him! I’ll never be able to fuck again!”
“That’s the general idea, you disgusting arsehole!” Emilia snarled. “And stop your moaning—you’re getting exactly what you deserve!”
“Emilia?” Rarev asked, looking at her uncertainly.
She turned to him, her blue eyes wide and wild. Her breasts were exposed and her hair was a silver cloud around her pale face.
“Emilia?” he asked again. “What happened?”
“He tried to hurt me. Tried to…to rape me!” Her voice quivered but she continued holding the struggling gray thing under the tap, as though she was intent on drowning it in purple foam. “He tried but he didn’t get away with it,” she told Rarev. “He…He…”
She let the squirming thing—which was now more red than gray—loose from her grip and a sob came from her lips—which had a red ring around them, as though someone had put tape over her mouth and then ripped it off.
“Sweetheart…my l’eeja,” Rarev murmured, taking her into his arms. His Rage had dissipated some with the need to comfort her. But his eyes were still red as he glared down at Om’bobla, who lay blubbering on the floor, cradling the soap-covered, reddish-gray thing which was apparently his shaft.
“What’s this? What’s happened now?” Elfa gasped, pushing open the fresher door. “I declare, we’ve never had so many problems at the Trials before!”
“This bastard tried to—” Rarev began but before he could finish, Om’bobla pointed one trembling tentacle finger at Emilia and gasped,
“She attacked me! I demand action at once!”
35
“Now then. This hearing on the events of this morning and the alleged attack will come to order.”
The Director of Mining Operations and the other four Rigellen judges were sitting in a row of crystal chairs behind a crystal table. Om’bobla and his wife Channa were sitting opposite them on one side and Em and Rarev were sitting opposite the judges on the other side. Lord Torrid and Lady Tabuu were seated behind herself and Rarev, presumably as neutral witnesses. Elfa was standing to one side of the judging panel, a worried look on her blue features.
Em couldn’t believe that somehow she was being cast as the perpetrator in this ridiculous courtroom drama. But Om’bobla had protested so loudly that she had attacked him and hadn’t let her get a word in edgewise that the Mining Director had declared they must call a trial to “get to the bottom” of things. She was hoping that she could make her case heard clearly once the proceedings started.
She was still feeling quite shaken up about the attack, but having Rarev’s arm around her shoulders and knowing that she had been able to defend herself—with the help of the Kindred Goddess, of course—made her feel stronger and less like a victim. She was determined not to let this nasty little event derail her efforts here—if they could just get through the trial.
“Now then,” the Mining Director said again. “Let us hear from the, er, injured party.” He nodded at Om’bobla, who was cradling his wounded dick in his arms like it was a newborn. It had been swaddled in many thick layers of white linen bandages, which made it look even more like a ridiculous kind of baby, Em thought.
When called upon, the squid man rose and hobbled towards the judges’ table. He stumbled dramatically and then caught himself on their clear crystal table, his bulging orange eyes wide and wounded.
“If it please this court,” he began in formal, tragic tones. “This morning I was brutally attacked! At First Meal, I simply needed to use the facilities. But when I went to use them, Minister Oxley was already inside. I tried to leave but she wouldn’t let me.”
“She wouldn’t let you?” the Mining Director asked, sounding skeptical. He looked at Om’bobla’s vast, blubbery bulk and then at Em, who was much smaller.