Octavius Mint and the Indigo Dragon by William Stafford

Author:William Stafford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction, humour, fantasy, gay, space, mystery, funny, adventure, action, sci-fi, innuendo, fast-paced, hero, quest, wit, technology, gaming, hologram, clone, avatar
ISBN: 9781781663042
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2012
Published: 2012-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

Deal

At last it was over. The war, my ordeal, my agony, all were done. Famous last words!

I was released from the chair. I couldn’t stand up without the assistance of the burly henchmen. If I had been perfectly fine I might have faked wobbly legs in order to benefit from their attention. As it was, I could barely feel their hands on me and they frogmarched me from the Killing Room (my new charming name for it) and to a cell - actually, that’s a little uncharitable. It was a small room but not devoid of creature comforts. There was a water supply in the form of a drinking fountain and there was, most welcome to my abused anatomy, a bed.

The henchmen laid me on it. One of them covered me with a blanket. Neither of them saw fit to take advantage of my inability to resist.

You can’t get the staff these days.

The mattress embraced me like an old friend. I sank into it, a lump of jelly dropped into custard. I surrendered myself to sleep and restorative oblivion.

It was as grand as that.

***

I was permitted to have all the sleep I needed and to wake up of my own accord. I can’t remember feeling more refreshed when I opened my eyes. I stretched my arms and legs, letting out one of those satisfying groans. I was in a non-orgasmic state of bliss and I loved it.

Speaking of orgasms, the blanket was like a pyramid over my abdomen. How long had it been? Well, it’s always been the same length since I was thirteen. I considered a touch of - well, a touch, you know what I mean; I would soon be feeling my old self again - and I didn’t even care if my every move was being monitored by that sexless freak Cleed.

Damn it. The very thought of him flattened the pyramid like the worst archaeological atrocity. With his sneering visage in my imagination came memory of what I’d been doing. What I was apparently there to do.

I had killed untold numbers and I still didn’t know what side I was supposed to be on.

Octavius, old chum, I lifted the blanket and addressed my best friend. It’s the same as it ever was. You’re on your own side and nobody else’s.

My best friend just lay there. Didn’t even wink at me.

I was right to assume Cleed would be watching. The lighting became brighter. A door - not the flash, dissolving kind but a good, old-fashioned solid slab of metal - swung open and in he stepped. He looked smarter in a more formal, scarlet dress uniform. He was carrying a similar one, folded in his arms. For me, I guessed.

“You’re up,” he observed.

“Well, I was,” I complained.

“Wear this,” he sneered. He dropped the uniform at the foot of the bed.

“Fancy threads,” I looked him up and down. “Are we going to a party?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I did.”

He was in no mood for me but then he never was.

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