Star Trek(23)
“Well, he came in seeking performance enhancement. Apparently he’s having difficulty maintaining enough stamina for the celebrations. But I’ve advised him that we need to stabilize his heart first.”
“Ugh.” She grimaced. “That’s why it’s better to die young and pretty.”
“So what can I do for you today, Mistress?”
D’Nesh spoke reluctantly. “I’m feeling a little tired myself. Like my . . . my game is a bit off.”
“In what context?”
“You know. The context.” It was difficult to get the words out, to admit that her sexual allure and potency were at anything less than full strength. After all, her power as an elite depended on that.
But Navaar had gathered the members of her alliance here on Orion to discuss their future plans, and naturally she’d thrown the expected bacchanalia to cement their loyalty—and to celebrate the successful progression of her long-term plan for Sauria. In the past month, Maltuvis had consolidated his control of Narpra and had moved his “medical relief” troops into a second disease-ravaged neighbor, effectively conquering both nations without firing a shot. He now controlled almost all of Sauria’s mineral wealth, and there was nothing the Global League or the Federation could do about it. And it was all thanks to Orion medical science. Plagues, as Navaar had gloated, could be very useful tools. And they had a way of spreading.
D’Nesh had joined in the festivities gamely, as usual, but had noticed that she was getting less attention from the available partners than Navaar or Maras. Of course, she could always order the slaves to do as she bade them, and yet . . . “One of the bed slaves . . . I told him to do this thing I like and . . .” She set her jaw. “He said no. Just once—all I had to do was raise my voice and he cowered nicely—but he still said no.”
“Well, let’s take a look at you, Mistress.” She disrobed for the examination, annoyed that Honar-Des took the sight of her spectacular body in stride. True, he had been chemically castrated, or he would have been unable to control his urges enough to do this job. But not being gawked at when nude was somewhat humiliating. It made her feel powerless.
“You’re perfectly all right, Mistress,” the doctor told her once the exam was finished. “Nothing wrong except a minor hormonal deficiency, which is perfectly natural in someone of your—maturity.”
She stared at him in outrage. “I am not old!”
“No, no, of course, Mistress, I never meant to suggest—”
“Navaar’s a year older than me. There’s nothing wrong with her hormones!”
The doctor’s eyes turned away. “Well . . . each individual is different, Mistress. I assure you,” he said, meeting her gaze again, “this is a minor inconvenience, easily remedied.”
She grabbed the collar of his coat. “Remedy it, then. Now!”
“I’ll be just a moment.” He left the room for the dispensary, and D’Nesh put her clothes back on—which didn’t take long. When Honar-Des returned, he gave her a container of gel capsules. “These are a standard hormone supplement for Orion females. They help restore the natural hormone levels that your body is . . . producing in lower quantities now.”
She stared at the pills. “So this is just for now, until I get my full strength back?”
“Well, we’ll monitor your situation and see how it goes.”
D’Nesh could tell he was handling her. He was rightly afraid to state to her face that she was getting older, that she needed chemical help to remain as irresistible as an elite female needed to be. She’d never admit it, of course, but it was a fear she’d had to live with ever since Maras had hit puberty and begun displaying signs that her pheromonal potency would surpass that of her older sisters. If the girl hadn’t been too stupid to have any ambition, D’Nesh would have had her sold into slavery in a Klingon torture pit years ago. But the little twit wasn’t completely useless; as much as it galled D’Nesh to admit it, the two elder sisters benefitted from having Maras’s chemical allure reinforcing their own. If they had rejected Maras or sold her, then some rival elites might have co-opted her, manipulated her into acting against them. So D’Nesh could understand the practical, strategic reasons why Navaar kept the three of them inseparable. What ate at her was the way Navaar genuinely seemed to like the child, to dote on her and indulge her dull-witted antics. She’d never allowed D’Nesh to get away with half as much. “It’s because I expect so much more from you,” Navaar had explained on many an occasion—but it didn’t make it sting any less. D’Nesh felt she was forced to work harder than anyone else to earn Navaar’s respect.