by Stella Cassy
“Hear me and take note, human. If you do not cease this useless combative behavior, I will string you up in our lounge, strip you naked, and allow my men to take their pleasure with you as they like.” Stepping closer, I continue, “We’re at least a lunar from the nearest slave pit.” Stopping to gaze down at her once more, I see an expression of pure hatred slip onto her face. I goad her further. “Each rotation would seem like an endless age were you to find your tender body put to such use.” My crew sounds off in favor of that punishment as we stare at each other for a brief moment.
And that’s what it finally takes to bring the indolent little female to her knees before me. Her abject humiliation should make me feel powerful and mighty. Instead, seeing such a tiny human female fight so hard not only for her life, but for her own honor is inspiring. She fights well as evidenced by the fact that it takes three of my crew to control her. In a brief moment, she has gone from lowly slave to a creature worthy of being desired by Tarion of the Hielsrane. Am I so attracted to fighting that I am unconsciously attracted to females who want nothing more than to give me a good fight? What kind of warrior have I become that I would bring a mighty female to her knees without even stopping to consider the right or wrong of it?
My insides curdle and a sharp pain lances through my chest. I am not used to experiencing emotional turmoil, nor do I like it. This newfound feeling must have something to do with human humbling herself before me. It’s her fault, not mine. She provokes all these self-doubts in me with those blue eyes that seem to stare into my soul, even as I did the same to her. I’ll not have her clawing her way into my soul, like females are wont to do. Though I know it is wrong, I issue one final command before storming out of the room.
“Throw her in the deepest, darkest chamber in my ship. Lock the door and throw away the key.”
When she does not lift her head, I turn on my heel and stalk out of the room. I don’t need to tell my crew that I was grandstanding, for they know me well. That whole throwing away the key comment was rubbish. All our cells have magnetic locks with scanning plates. Normally, I would not think to worry for her safety with my crew. Touching what is mine without permission is a crime punishable by death. However, such a sublime tidbit might induce even my most loyal crew member to touch what he would not otherwise dare. Bringing my handheld communicator to my lips, I speak to my lead warrior. “See that no one touches my property, Grondonolan.”
“That goes without saying, sir. I will see to it myself.”
If human females truly understood the power they wield in the verse, I shudder to think of the havoc they would wreak. One thing is certain. I cannot be around my new slave. A strong-willed female is rare and more than enough to entice an honorable warrior such as myself into disgrace. This I will not permit, for I am Tarion of the Hielsrane, son of Silea of the Hielsrane, and I will not debase myself by sexually abusing a slave, even one that I own.
I must keep my attention squarely on the job at hand. We have the cube of chromite, fuel rods, and the human female. That is a good haul.
However, it would be better if the human had a bounty on her head. She’s attractive, has battle marks and is strong-willed. Even if this female is not fertile, she is still human. They are highly coveted as pleasure slaves. By all rights, such a creature should command an astronomical bounty. I ponder out loud, “If she has a bounty it may be even more than the chromite.”
Having triumphed at every turn, there is no reason for the sick feeling slithering in the pit of my stomach. All my normal enthusiasm for collecting a hefty bounty on the human is wane. Something strange is happening to me and I know not what it is.
Taking the only course open to me, I head for the healing unit for a medical scan. Perhaps some microbe escaped from the alien vessel and infected me. That is the most likely explanation for these strange feelings that have come out of nowhere.
Healer Jernok steps forward to meet me the moment I cross the threshold into the medical unit. “Greetings Captain, are you well?”
“When was the last time I visited the medical bay out of curious interest in your work, Jernok?”
Somehow, he manages an amused frown. “That would be never, sir.”
“I do not feel well in the chest and stomach. I require a medical scan.”
Gesturing towards a medical scanner, he asks, “Can you describe your pain, sir?”
Stepping onto the scanner, I hold out my arms, take a wide stance and lift my wings slightly. “It’s not quite pain. More like a squirmy, uncomfortable feeling that wasn’t there before.”
“Have you had a change in diet, cleansing products or anything of that nature?”
“No.”
“When did the feeling begin?”
“It began just moments ago. I decided to see you immediately. The sensation is quite discerning.”
“What were you doing when the sickness started?”
“Just working.”
“Where were you located on the ship?”
“The loading bay.”
“Were there others around?”
“Many crew members were present.”
“Did any of them complain about feeling strange?”
“No, but they weren’t…” I stop speaking, reluctant to admit that I was tormenting a brooder.
“Weren’t what?”
“Nothing.”
Shooting me a confused glance over his shoulder, he frowns. “Exactly what were you doing, captain?”
“I was… processing a… biological acquisition.” I realize my vagueness is not helping him understand my situation. Why I’m doing it is beyond my ability to reason at the moment.
Standing, he walks over to me. “Initiate stasis field.”
A crackling pink electronic field snaps into place. It’s designed to contain biological contaminants.
“Did the crew not follow proper decontamination protocols?”
Huffing out an exasperated breath, I blow a piece of hair out of my face. “I was speaking with a human acquisition when I began to experience the symptoms.”
“Humans aren’t typically thought to be harbingers of virulent diseases. Did he appear to be diseased?”
“She looked fine. However, the horrible creature acted wild and feral. You should look first at diseases with emotional overflow in the form of pure blind fury.”
His shoulders slump in defeat. “What did you do to provoke such a response?”
“Me? I did nothing. The creature was so out-of-control our crew had to drag her off her tiny vessel with catch poles. That reminds me, she spat in my face. The disease is clearly transferred via bodily fluids.”
Rubbing his chin, Healer Jarnok looks over the monitor readings running down both sides of the scanner. “That’s strange. Your medical scans look normal.”
“Fine. Deactivate the stasis field. I wish to return to the bridge.”
Reaching out to his console, his claws fly over the controls. As the stasis field comes down, he muses out loud, “It could be some type of somatoform disorder.”
I perk up. “That sounds deadly.”
“Hardly, it’s when emotional issues manifest themselves as physical symptoms.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Often times when my patients are in distress, I feel great empathy for them. My chest gets tight and I feel a little sick to my stomach. You might have been experiencing something similar. Because you were the instigator of the female’s distress, the negative symptoms you experienced might have been stronger than normal.”
Stepping off the scanner, I shake my head. “That’s the most ridiculous diagnosis rendered by a medical professional in this sector, Jarnok. Since you apparently need to be reminded, I am Tarion of the Hielsrane. I’ve killed more people than most small kingdoms during wartime. To suggest your illustrious captain is having an emotional reaction secondary to processing a weak female slave is absurd. I demand that you set yourself to the task of discovering the origin and proper t
reatment modalities of my current malady. Preferably, before my condition worsens.”
“Yes, sir. I will do my very best.”
Though the older healer didn’t sound very confident in his ability to analyze my condition, I decided to leave him to it. Walking to the bridge, I begin to think over my options. If our healer fails me completely, we will seek out a planet with advanced medical technologies to diagnose my malady. Perhaps I can secure a replacement for our absurdly incompetent healer there as well.
3
Carissa
I loathe myself for buckling under that horrible Drakon’s threats. The stupid bastard really got off on intimidating me. I could see it in his cruel and sadistic eyes. Why some beings in the verse enjoy the pain and suffering of others is one of life’s great mysteries.
Sure, fighting them the way I did was probably a bad idea. I was in a full-blown panic at the time. Who wouldn’t be? The Drakon are over eight-feet tall and even their muscles have muscles. They might be exotic with those gigantic wings and long tails with the little bobble on the end, but they don’t play around when it comes to slaves not following their directions. They’re an interesting lot, with skin ranging in dark muted colors, some having more prominent scales than others and the way their tails whip around when they’re angry. They look nearly human in the face, except for the sharp teeth. Under different circumstances, I might even find them appealing. As it stands, their arrogance is getting in the way of me warming up to them.
Their pompous, preening leader is taller and more muscle bound than all the rest. If I were going to warm up to one of them, he’d be the last on a very long list. The guy clearly has some issues. Not the least of which is his long stringy hair, red scales and cheap, overly intricate clothing.
Though the ignoble brute claimed to be from a prominent family, he sure didn’t look or act like it. I’ve been around arrogant rich fools all my life. They all dress in a certain fastidious fashion, speak in moderated tones and never put their hands on a slave. He doesn’t resemble any nobles I’ve ever known. In fact, the scaled mercenary doesn’t even come close to fitting in with polite society on any world spinning. He gives off a shifty vibe, and it’s enough to be off putting. If that weren’t enough, his propensity towards dramatic displays of pseudo-aggression makes him one nasty character. Granted he didn’t hit me hard and for that I’m thankful. He was clearly posturing for his crew. I can’t blame him. No captain who wants to hang onto his position can afford to be seen as weak.
My breath catches in my throat as I remember our tense exchange. I’ve heard the Drakon have something called the breath of the dragon, but I never paid enough attention to figure out what everyone was going on about. I had always thought it was bad breath or something like that. However, his hot breath on my chest provoked a spike of pure lust more powerful than anything I’ve ever known. The old-timers told stories of how some males emit pheromones that have an intoxicating effect on their females, rendering them more likely to succumb to their mating instincts. It is nature’s way of keeping the species from going extinct. Since I’m not remotely attracted to the big masculine warrior, it had to have been pheromones.
Let’s just stay the hell away from that shit, Carissa. My no-nonsense self-talk serves to solidify my resolve. Still, I haven’t felt so alive before. It’s a shame it had to happen with Mister Crazypants, the one man I’ve deemed to be seriously off limits. Mating with such a crass bully could get a girl injured or dead. I shove aside the way his broad shoulders looked looming over me as well as those dark brooding eyes. It doesn’t matter that he would probably be hot as hell all scrubbed up, he’s not emotionally capable of caring for anyone but himself. Still images of him clean, naked and tied to a bed rise unbidden to my mind. Chewing my bottom lip, I think of all the sexy punishments I’d give him for being such an ass. That little voice in the back of my head charges forward. Jesus, just stop it already. Don’t start fantasizing about the dragon dude.
Wrapping my arms around my knees, I curl into a tight ball on the weirdly shaped cot. It’s a semi-circle and built for a much larger person. The design is made for the comfort of a Drakon, enabling them to turn either way and get comfortable without their wings getting squished. Since anywhere I lay my legs hang off, I pull my knees up into the fetal position and contemplate my situation.
The cell is located in the darkest hole this monstrous ship has to offer, but there has to be a way out. Turning the situation over in my mind, I murmur quietly, “It’s time to pull out all the stops. You’ve come too far to give up now.”
Breaking out of this cell doesn’t mean much if I can’t avoid recapture. Every vessel this size has escape-pods for use in the event of a disaster. They’re short range and difficult to maneuver, but surprisingly well supplied. This ship would track me down in a heartbeat and I’d be back in their clutches within minutes.
The ship will also have a detachment of fighters, which are fast and well-armed. They are extremely maneuverable and can cover long distances since many were designed to be scout vehicles. Unfortunately, they’re valuable and would be quickly missed.
That leaves the mini-freighters normally used to ferry supplies from trade ships and nearby planets. They can travel large distances, are usually well supplied and they are not very well controlled. Though they aren’t as fast as fighters, they do have the advantage of coming and going relatively unnoticed. No one pays much attention to what they’re doing because they make frequent trips and are rarely carrying much of real value. Who’s going to notice a freighter carrying a modest load of foodstuffs or common equipment? If I get the chance to escape, freighters seem like the way to go.
As far as getting out of this cell goes, my options have already been exhausted. I’ve already tested the bars, fiddled with the locking mechanism and explored every square inch of the tiny cell. I didn’t find a way out. If my only way out is through the door, I don’t see that happening anytime soon.
My mind runs scenario after scenario involving playing sick, seducing a guard and even starving myself until I can fit through the bars. Anything’s better than spending the rest of my life in this tiny cell. Heck, they might have a change of crew and forget I’m even here. Stranger things have happened in the verse. Thoughts of growing old in this tiny space haunt me. That horrible dragon captain would keep me here purely out of spite. I’m beginning to regret spitting on the arrogant man.
Even if I manage to get out, humans are not generally thought of as free beings in this sector of space. It was nice to escape from the Tandarians, along with the strange insectoid-like aliens before them, who wanted a slave but didn’t know quite what to do with one. While it would be nice to escape the Drakon, I’ll just end up being picked up by some other species. It’s a hopeless and depressing thought.
The door across the room from my cell creaks open and light floods into the darkened space. A huge form fills the doorway and I prepare myself for a fight. When the person steps through the doorway, I see it’s the shifty commander who thinks he’s God’s gift to women.
Sliding off the cot, I walk over to the bars, careful to stay out of his immediate reach. “Did you come to gloat? You bullied the tiny human female into submission. That must make you feel like a powerful male.”
His voice is dark and sullen. “You talk too much and say naught of value.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “We have that in common, at least.”
Fluttering his wings in frustration, he moves closer. “I came to let you know your image has been showing up all over the communi-channels. They say you’re one of the youngest fertile females the Pax Alliance have owned in quite some time. The Tandorians are so eager to secure your safe return that they’ve offered an astronomically high bounty. It seems you were the most valuable item on that small ship.”
“Goodie. I assume you plan to cash me in and retire on your own little paradise planet.”
“I do plan to return you to your rightful owners and colle
ct the bounty on your head.” Tossing me a lopsided grin, he states flippantly, “It’ll be the only honest job I’ve done in recent memory.”
Rolling my eyes, I respond blandly. “I can easily believe that. What are you, some kind of space pirate?”
Letting out a raspy laugh, he responds haughtily, “Pirate? Hardly, human. I think of myself as nature’s last form of natural selection. Those who aren’t strong enough to protect themselves from men like me don’t deserve to live free in the verse.”
He’s one stupid piece of absolute garbage. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” My mild reaction annoys the pompous bastard judging by the slight twitch of his eyebrows.
“You’re weak. Naturally, the benefit to having men like me about would be lost on you.”
Looking him straight in the eye, I let him have it. “I’m not as clueless as you seem to think. I can see the benefit to allowing men like you to roam about unchecked. You go where others won’t, dare what others don’t, and relish the thrill of winning battles others can’t. Too bad you have to pick on little people like me in the process.”
His eyes are practically gleaming with pride.
Changing up the subject, he motions towards my body. “There is some confusion about the way you’re dressed. Normally brooders are outfitted in luxury and have their own servants. Our scans reveal you have intact innards for brooding and, though you are a slave, you are a still a person of worth. How did you come be alone on a ship wearing the clothing of a professional seducer of males?”
“Aren’t you a curious guy? If you must know, the Pax were allowing males to test me out for a hundred credits.”
“Clearly that was a poor business decision on their part. Such an opportunity should be priced much higher and limited to the top bidders for a being as fragile as you.”
Unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth or his casual attitude about allowing men to rape me, I lash out at him. “I can see you’re an expert at exploiting human females. Congratulations, that moves you right to the top of the list of the men I hate most in the verse.”