by Stella Cassy
Sure, I’ll admit that I’m dripping in rare gemstones and my father has worked with me to establish a collection of weapons second only to his own. My quarters are overflowing with the things most of my peers can only dream about. The problem is they were all gifts, taken in battle by real warriors. There is one undeniable truth among our people. If someone gives you a gemstone, it’s worth the going rate of the gemstone and nothing more. However, if you kick their ass and take the gemstone, it’s a war trophy, and that makes it priceless and worthy of a real collection.
The cold hard fact is, none of the rare and beautiful items decorating my personal space matter in the real world. I’m a freaking Drakonian with no collection of my own and it really sucks. My fondest dreams are the ones where I cast aside my richly embroidered cloak, shuck all my worldly possession and strike out on my own with only my trusty dagger at my side. Carving out my own destiny is my one and only goal and I’m chomping at the bit to slip away from my parents and enjoy some real freedom.
Uncle Lehar says I need to learn patience. He’s told me all the stories about how my sire rescued my mother from a derelict and they fought off the Paxian Alliance to keep her from being enslaved again. I have to admit those are some hilarious stories. Our healer even told me about how my scaly old sire though he’d contracted some bizarre alien virus but it just turned out to be love. Old people are not very smart. Who cares about love anyway?
Glancing over my shoulder, I see my tiny human mother sitting in his lap yet again. She playing with his long black hair again and they’re having some imaginary conversation about her getting wings grafted onto her body so they can fly together. Even I can manage to have some empathy for a being without wings, but they have to know that medical technology has not advanced to that point yet. Suddenly, a scary thought pops into my mind. The insectoids are fairly medically advanced. I sure hope they are not considering letting them put my mother under the knife. That would be pure insanity.
Then again, they’re both outta their minds most of the time. I’ve seen them get distracted halfway through a mission and disappear just when the battle was heating up. It’s a good thing Uncle Lehar has his head screwed on straight or we’d never get a good pillage on. He’s the only one around this blasted place that makes any sense at all.
Staring at them, I can’t understand why she sits in his lap constantly. It can’t possibly be comfortable. I really should visit Uncle Lehar’s ship more often. At least his brooder knows her place. There, I’m not subjected to them swapping spit constantly. It’s too gross for words.
Turning away in disgust, I watch our newest conquest growing larger in the view screen. The blue and green world is spinning lackadaisical on its axis. It is beautiful, but more importantly, it’s filled with vast amounts of treasure, far in excess of what our combined ships can carry. My heart beats faster at the thought of our fleet capturing the conquest of a lifetime.
It’s a crying shame that I can’t be part of the first wave of invaders. They say I’m too young. Ten seasons isn’t young for a Drakon warrior since we mature on a fast time frame than most species. I’ve been training since I could maneuver under the power of my own wings, but my surly old sire says I have to be at least sixteen to even bring up the rear in a battle sequence. Freaking unfair, that’s what it is.
I don’t know what the heck their problem is. I haven’t come into my hormones yet, so I’m not capable of transforming into my fighting form. I’ve seen my father’s fighting form many times. Each time was awe inspiring. He even let me ride on his back as he soared through the air a few times. There is no freedom in the world like flying so high in the sky. My wings could never take me that far in my humanoid form.
I can hear my dragon grumbling sometimes and I wish she would hurry up and wake up. All the waiting around and watching everyone else touch the sky and claim their glory is getting on my last nerve.
I dream about what mine will be like all the time. They say our fighting form is totally invincible. Moving forward onto all fours, I quietly flex my muscles, trying to force my dragon to wake up. In my mind’s eye, she slowly rolls over and opens one eye. I’m so thrilled that my skin is tingling with excitement.
My father’s voice sounds off behind me. “I know what you are trying to do, Mattie. You can’t force your dragon into awareness. It doesn’t work that way.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I mimic his dark and dangerous tone. “For you, perhaps it didn’t work that way. However, I am a Drakon female.”
My younger brother, Drale snorts a laugh and my other siblings snicker. Naturally, I ignore their childish behavior. Drael is only eight. The others are all under five and have barely been off the ship. I turn my head forward and mutter under my breath. “You know nothing about what I’m capable of, my sire.”
My mother sounds amused. “I know that you’re going to be grounded to your room of a thousand meaningless treasures if you don’t be respectful to your father.”
It annoys me that she’s using the same phrase I do to disparage my luxurious quarters. However, I have no wish to risk her displeasure. Though human brooders are as rare as they are weak, my mother is fierce. I’ve seen her kill two fully armed Pralorian warriors with little more than her dull dinner knife. “Yes, mam. When are we attacking the blue planet?”
My parents look at each other.
Turning back to inspect this new planet, I murmur. “It doesn’t look intimidating. I could probably invade this world with a few warriors and have it wrapped in a few days.”
Naturally, my father throws cold water all over my perhaps short sighted observation. “You are not of an age to battle, daughter. By the time you come into your fighting form, you may no longer wish to follow in our footsteps.”
I can’t help but laugh. “There’s a fat chance of that happening, you crusty old claw.”
My mother clears her throat. It’s a subtle warning.
“Sorry, my sire. I only meant that I can’t imagine myself becoming a diplomat, a healer or anything quite so boring. I’m a warrior born of warriors. You’ll see.”
“When the time comes, I will see you gain experience with an eye to getting your own ship. Would that please you, my daughter?”
“You know it would. I’ll make you proud.”
“Tarion of the Hielsrane expects nothing less from his eldest child.” Looking down into my mother’s upturned face, he cups the side of her face with one hand. “Do you recognize this world, my sweet?”
“There is something familiar in the swirl of the oceans.”
Glancing up at the screen, he sighs. “It is a beautiful world.”
Gazing at it as it grows larger by the micron, she responds absently, “It’s easily the most beautiful world we’ve ever encountered.”
A suspicion flies into my head and takes root. “Yea, but we’re still attacking it, right?” My words are met with silence from my parents as my younger siblings all line up to gape at the new world.
Drael whispers, “I don’t think they’re listening to you.”
“Hey, old people. We are still attacking this planet, right? I don’t see any reason to forgo pillaging vast riches just because the world is cute and all.”
I still get no answer.
“Are the two of you even listening to me?”
Cosmic Captor
Cosmic Captor
Stella Casey
© 2019
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are all fictitious for the reader’s pleasure. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are
all coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for ADULTS ONLY (+18).