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			DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
			A Bug's Tale (Charlie's Story) ———————————————— by Van & Courier  ©2000
			Chapter 15

Victoria leaned forward over the waist-high adobe wall of the balcony of her bedroom suite, gazing down at the effect of the storm on Copperhead Canyon.  She was protected from the direct downpour by a narrow sloping roof, but the wild wet wind lifted her red locks, making them swirl and flail around her face.  Water was pouring from the sky, onto the surrounding table lands and into the canyon.  The permanent waterfall feeding the swimming pool had trebled its volume and had been joined by a multitude of smaller temporary falls all along the canyon's length.  The canyon's usually dry stream channel was anything but dry, busy carrying the churning runoff down the canyon and out into the broken badlands of the lower valley.

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked.  Victoria pulled her hair back and laughed, enjoying the feel of the windblown mist stinging her freckled face.  She loved these summer storms and always had, drawn to their raw, primordial power.  I'll have to take some time to ride out into the desert, she mused.  A summer cloudburst always left an explosion of life in its wake, as plants, insects, even frogs and fish struggled to court and breed in the damp sand and rocky pools before the fleeting opportunity quite literally evaporated.

I'm sure my slaves won't mind if I give them a couple of days to relax in their cells.  Victoria laughed again, spun on her heel and paced back into the bedroom, closing the balcony doors behind her.  A thrill coursed through her body. 'My slaves', she mused, savoring the idea, the delicious fullfilment of her darkest fantasy.  She left the bedroom, strode towards the nearby elevator, then rode the dropping car towards the Canyon levels, grinning evily all the while.  Jessie recaptured, the Little One recaptured, Delores and the doctor safely locked away down below, she mused, things couldn't be better.

Victoria was proud of herself.  She had solved the domestic help problem: Delores and Jessie would alternate as maids.  One would be placed in an upleasant situation down in the dungeons, and the other, the one "on duty", would be put to work, suitably restrained and costumed, of course, Victoria mused with a grin, and she'll work knowing her 'fellow maid' will continue to suffer until she's completed her household chores... and passed inspection.  I wonder if I have any white gloves, Victoria thought.  I'll have to order a case.  Victoria's grin widened.  Jessie, in a skimpy 'French Maid' costume, and chains... delicious!  It'll make her so angry... and she'll have no choice but to play along!

The elevator doors opened and Victoria, still grinning, strolled towards one of the storerooms (and one of the secret doors leading into the dungeons).  I really should pierce Jessie's nipples, she decided, so she can have bells, like Delores, so they'll match.  Victoria reached the secret door, triggered its carefully hidden switch, and the massive door began to cycle open. Drake will want to do it, Victoria mused, but I'll do it myself.  After all... Jessie's family.

Victoria passed through the secret door, hit the inner switch, and walked away down the passageway towards the distant ramp leading to the sleeping cells.  Time to wake the good doctor and introduce her to Reverend Mother Peale's masterpiece, she mused, her grin widening and turning decidedly feral.

Victoria stopped.  What's that whirring noise? she wondered, her grin fading.  Turning quickly, she thought she might have seen something move, a flying insect perhaps.  She took several paces back towards the still slowly closing door and looked about.  The walls and ceiling of this part of the passageway was cluttered with old mine supports, pipes, and power conduits.  Victoria squinted into the deep shadows, but could see nothing unexpected.

She sighed, turned, and started back towards the cells—and stopped again.  This time the noise had been a staccato, rhythmic tapping.  Victoria turned.  Still nothing.  Maybe the door mechanism's sticking, she thought, watching as the door finished closing and its thick steel bolts silently engaged.  I should check the chainfall for wear, sometime.  Not now, she thought, her grin returning.  I've got better things to do now.  Probably just my imagination anyway, she decided, turned, and resumed her journey.

As Victoria was just out of sight of the door, something dropped from the ceiling and hovered in mid air, something looking very much like a damselfly or possibly a small dragonfly.  It quietly fluttered down the passageway, shadowing the mistress of Copperhead Lodge.

Several seconds later, a second something scuttled from the shadows.  This intruder resembled a disturbingly large spider.  It quickly and easily climbed the wall and activated the switch of the secret door.  The well-oiled bolts slid back, and the door began to cycle open.

Janet looked to the left, then to the right.  Still nothing, nothing she could see in all this rain, anyway.  The plan was for Kat to approach the camp from the right, while Janet approached from the left.  They could see that someone was on the rocks out in front of the fire, someone in trouble.  It was too far to make out any details, and the intervening curtain of water made Kat's fancy optics virtually worthless.

Janet moved forward to a new position, keeping low and (she hoped) unobserved.  Water drummed on the rocks all around her, and on Janet herself.  The sun, setting behind the dense storm clouds, was shedding less and less light on the area.  Well, if I can't see or hear anything, she reflected, neither can whoever might be out there waiting.  Not for the first time in her career, Janet was reminded of one of the stark realities of life in the Navajo Tribal Police.  While an urban cop in a similar situation might wait for backup, a small army of well-armed backup, a Tribal cop (like most rural cops) was alone.  Backup, as usual, was hundreds of miles away.

Janet moved again.  Well, hardly alone, Janet admitted with a grin.  If it weren't for this rain Kat would have stalked and captured whoever's out there all by herself, in nothing flat.  Janet carefully scanned the shadows of the rocks around her.  Nothing.  She moved again, and found herself near two large boulders, one leaning over the other.  Janet wiggled into the space between the blocks of sandstone, and found an excellent vantage on the camp, still about 100 yards distant.

Janet lifted the compact e-binoculars Kat had loaned her, trying to remember which of the studs set flush into the hand grips controlled which functions.  At first she could see nothing... then, after trying the controls one by one, the display glowed red and the camp snapped into focus.  The rain still obscured many details, but Janet could see the pinto tethered in the back, a saddle and bedroll, coffee and cook pots by the fire (which smoked a little but was almost out)... and the prisoner in front.

The prisoner was Charlie, just as Kat had suspected.  She was bound in a vicious hog-tie, out in the driving rain, and...  Oh shit! Janet cursed.  The captive's head was pulled back, either from a length of rope tied to her gag, or around her neck!  From the current viewing angle and light conditions, Janet couldn't tell which.  Charlie wasn't moving... then Janet saw her blink, and squirm slightly. She could be slowly strangling herself, Janet thought.  I've got to move!  Risky, but I have no choice.

Beretta in hand, Janet moved towards the camp, dodging from cover to cover, looking and listening as she went.  But for the need to rescue Charlie as quickly as possible, the journey would have involved an hour of creeping and crawling, eliminating all possible ambush positions before making the final rush to the exposed slab of sandstone and its helpless prisoner.  As it was, the journey took two careful minutes.

With a final look in all directions, Janet crawled onto the sandstone slab and approached Charlie.  Eyes wide and blinking in the rain, the wet and miserable prisoner squirmed and mewed through her gag at Janet's approach.  Janet could now see that Charlie was in no danger of strangling.  The rope (rawhide, actually) was not around her throat.  Well, Janet thought with chagrin, as long as I'm already out here...  Keeping as low as possible, Janet carefully holstered her weapon and pulled a folding knife from her pocket.  One-handed, she opened the blade and began crawling the final three yards to the struggling captive—CRACK—Janet was flipped violently onto her back.  She felt like she'd been punched in her upper body, punched by an angry bear.  Oddly, she didn't hurt, there was just a general numbness over her left arm and torso... but it was hard to breath... not impossible... just hard.  She lay on the sandstone, panting, the rain falling on her face.  Janet tried to move, and what had been the shock of impact turned to genuine, searing pain, centered on her left shoulder.  I know what happened, she thought. I've been shot.

Teri stared up at the ceiling of the passageway as her captor buckled the gurney's stout leather straps, securing her on her back on the padded wheeled table.  The straps were superfluous.  The nude archeologist was already inescapably bound with cotton rope; wrists behind her back; arms pinned to her body by tight bands looped and hitched above and below her breasts and across her shoulders; ankles hobbled with more rope; she wasn't going anywhere.  Teri knew the straps simply served to keep her from falling—but most of all, to keep her exactly where her captor wished her to be, to continue Victoria's complete precise control of Teri's helpless body.

Complaint was as impossible as escape.  Back in the dungeon cell Victoria had forced a large ball of foam past Teri's lips and plastered several wide strips of silver duct tape over her face, from chin to nose and ear to ear.  "There... nice and quiet," the gloating redhead had purred, smoothing the tape with her strong freckled hands.  "Now I can take you to your next... adventure... without any more nagging questions."  Victoria had then dragged Teri from her cell and out into the passageway.  "And look," she had said, indicating the waiting gurney and its dangling straps, "you get to ride this time."

The days of constantly changing bondage, infrequent meals, erotic torture, and irregular sleep were taking their toll.  Teri was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on an increasingly unpleasant and tenuous reality.  She knew Charlie and the others had attempted escape, and Victoria had gloatingly informed her all the fugitives had been recaptured, but the carrot-topped Bitch refused to provide any details, to tell her what was happening to her fellow captives, to Charlie.  Escape, Teri mused.  How?  It's impossible.  Impossible right now, anyway.  All I can do is wait.  Victoria smiled, went to the foot of the gurney, and started wheeling Teri down the passage.  Teri closed her eyes, fighting self-pity and despair.  ...wait and hope, the prisoner's thoughts continued.  I'm so... tired.

Teri opened her eyes and stared at her captor.  Victoria gazed down at her, a gloating grin on her beautiful face.  You haven't broken me yet, Bitch! Teri fumed, and lifted her eyes to the slowly passing ceiling.  If it takes forever, I'll—"M'mmpfh!"  Teri screamed through her gag.  They had passed under one of the mine's old crossbeam supports, and peering down from a crevice between the gray timber and native stone had been the biggest, ugliest spider Teri had ever seen in her life!  Teri squirmed in her bonds, the tight rope and creaking straps easily defeating her desperate struggles.  The spider had been huge, at least two feet across, bigger than the biggest tropical species Teri had ever heard of, far bigger than anything she knew had ever been found in North America.  It was real! I know I saw it! Teri thought as Victoria stepped to the side and leaned forward over the gurney and its still struggling and mewing occupant.

"What is it?" the redhead asked, then turned her head to follow Teri's horrified gaze.  Captive and captor watched as a two-inch, pale, but otherwise seemingly quite mundane spider scuttled from the deep shadows atop the beam, froze in place for two short seconds, then scampered along the beam and into another crevice.  "That was a big one," Victoria observed, with a nervous laugh.  "I don't believe I've ever seen one quite like it," she continued.  "It was shiny... almost silver.  Must be one of those albino cave spiders."  She leaned close to her still terrified prisoner.  "I've always been deathly afraid of spiders," she confided, resting her hand on Teri's left breast.  "My, your heart's tripping like a hammer," she whispered.  "I guess I'm not the only one scared of the little monsters, am I?"  Victoria gave Teri's breast a gentle squeeze and leaned closer still.  "So... Doctor Fournelle is scared of creepy crawlies.  I wonder how I might make use of this precious knowledge?"  She kissed Teri's gagged lips, then stood back and laughed.  "I'll have to give it some thought," she purred, and resumed pushing the gurney and its still frightened occupant towards her unknown fate.

A few seconds after Victoria, Teri, and the gurney passed out of sight around a curve in the stony corridor, the huge spider dropped from the ceiling on a silky cord.  The second, much smaller spider dropped to the floor as well, then scrambled to the big spider, up one of its legs, and disappeared into an opening in the huge spider's underside.  The huge spider was joined by two others, and the trio slowly started down the passageway, the lead spider just keeping Victoria's back in sight.

Janet regained consciousness.  The rain was pounding her face.  Feels kinda good, she mused, better than my...  Oh yeah... I was shot... tryin' to...  She craned her neck and found Charlie nearby, still hog-tied, still tottering on her taut little tummy like a strung bow.  Janet tried to roll towards the petite prisoner.  Fiery pain clawed at her left shoulder and side.  Janet grimaced.  She was surprised to find her open pocket knife still gripped in her right hand... The sound of the rain began to fade...

Time passed... and Janet found the strength to move again.  She dragged herself towards Charlie and slowly, carefully reached out with the knife.  The rawhide thong linking the back of Charlie's gag to her wrists parted like a snapped rubber band.  Charlie slumped in her still stringent bonds and rolled closer.  Janet reached for the thong linking Charlie's wrists, waist, and ankles... and again everything went black.

Janet woke again... and found herself in Charlie's lap.  The pale, little belagana was sheltering her with her wet, naked body... trying to shelter her anyway.  The ball-gag was loose around her neck, and when Charlie brushed Janet's wet hair from her forehead Janet saw severed rawhide bands still wrapped around her right wrist.  "Guess I cut you loose after all," Janet said... at least she thought she said it.  She hadn't felt her lips move.  She couldn't feel much of anything.  Charlie was shaking.  Must be cold, Janet reasoned.  No, she's crying .  Janet reached up and put her hand on Charlie's cheek.  "Don't cry Little Mouse," Janet said... thought she said... and passed out again.

Something was roaring in the sky.  Janet opened her eyes and found the Tilt-wing aircraft that had delivered the Hex-Rover hovering in the raging storm, nearly directly overhead.  Its landing lights were blazing, as was a brilliant spotlight, a wavering, white beam, stabbing through the rainy night.  Centered in the beam, Kat was sparring with... herself.  Crazy belagana! Janet mused.  Yes, there were two of her... one in the familiar camouflage tights... the other in wet denim.  Both Kats were good with the fancy martial arts moves, but the one in camouflage was obviously better.  Must be all that practice, Janet decided.

Charlie leaned close.  "What?" she shouted, struggling to be heard over the tilt-rotor's engines.

Guess I said that aloud, Janet thought.  "I said..."  Janet started, then could tell she was passing out again. It's not important... Never mind.

The engine noise had stopped, but it was still raining, hard.  Camouflaged Kat must have won the fight, 'cause she was standing nearby, with her other self draped over her shoulder, unconscious.  Kat dropped herself to the ground next to the fire, and now Janet could see that the second Kat, the Kat in the denim and the plaid shirt... wasn't Kat... was some other belagana...  Janet closed her eyes.

"Here comes the medical robot," Charlie's voice announced.

Janet opened her eyes, and found a huge chrome ant, the size of a sheepdog, ambling towards her, silhouetted by the grounded tilt-rotor's lights, and it was... big.  Janet laughed, which sent a sharp stab of pain through her side.  Ow!

Charlie leaned close again.  "What did you say, Honey?" she asked, concern on her wet, pixie face.

Janet pointed at the ant and laughed again.  "'Them'!" she said, and lost consciousness.

Eve's robots had already located Victoria, Teri, Jessie, and Delores, and established that the later three were not in immediate danger.  At the time Janet was shot, more than eighty percent of the Lodge and its environs had been explored and mapped.  At the time Lourdes was struggling to land her storm-tossed Tilt-wing at the campsite, the Lodge's telephone panel, alarm system, and desktop computers were already under Eve's permissive control.

Eve decided immediate tactical intervention at Copperhead Lodge was not recommended, that the resolution of Charlie's rescue and the care of Janet were the team's immediate priorities.  She was not overruled.

Preparations for future action continued with deliberate speed.

As soon as the worst of the storm had passed, a large Tilt-wing approached Copperhead Lodge from the West.  Showing neither navigation nor landing lights (none shining in wavelengths visible to the human eye, that is) it settled behind the low ridge sheltering the robot survellience base.  Before its turbines had stopped whining, robots of various size and design swarmed over the craft, draping camouflage nets.  The Tilt-rotor's cargo ramp dropped and various modules and containers emerged from the now hidden craft, walking on insect-like legs or rolling on treads and balloon tires.

To a human observer (had there been one) the enlarged, revitalized base would have looked something like a colony of very large, metallic, and diverse termites, milling around in organized chaos; however, looks can be deceiving.  A colony of social insects only appears to have a "hive mind", to behave as if it "knows" what it's doing.  Collectively, Eve's robots actually did know what they were doing... actually were intelligent... actually were one mind... Eve's.

With the abundant assets of the Tilt-wing's robot cargo, it took less than an hour to expand the base's formal security perimeter to include all of Copperhead Lodge, the old Mine and its storerooms, workshops, and stables, the secret dungeons, the Canyon floor, the old ghost town, and a mile of desert in all directions.  In an additional hour, the power, communication, and information infrastructures of Victoria's estate were fully integrated into Eve's cognitive matrix.

While all this happened, while the estate's systems were mapped, analysed, usurped, and enhanced, unsuspecting and unaware, Victoria McQuade went about the business of entertaining herself (at her "slaves'" expense), never suspecting that Copperhead Lodge had a new mistress: "Eve Cerveau".