by Elin Wyn
I looked up at Cazak. “Can you get me out of here?”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice a little husky. I wasn’t sure how long I had cried or sat in his arms remembering my mother or the last time my father and I laughed together, real, joyful laughter, but it must have been quite a bit of time. His eyes looked as if he had been dozing off. Then again, maybe he had just been trying to stay quiet for me.
I nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to be here anymore. My father’s body is in another room not far from here and I don’t want to be around that. I need to get out of here, and if you don’t want to take me, I’ll go myself.”
“No, no. I’ll take you. Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t care. Just not here.” I really didn’t care, and I didn’t know anyone here. Well, that was a lie, I knew Dottie who lived here now, and Cazak, who apparently lived here with the rest of the Vengeance crew. But I didn’t know where they lived.
“Well, I can either take you to my place or to Dottie’s. My place is very, utilitarian, from what I’ve been told. Dottie’s is a little more comfortable,” he said.
“Fine, whatever. Dottie’s is fine. I just want to get out of here. Please.”
He nodded and helped me to my feet.
He led me out of the break room and we were in a hallway. “Um, I’m sorry, but the only way out is past the cells.”
Past the room where my father had killed himself, or had been forced to kill himself by whatever had possessed him. I nodded and he took my hand and helped lead me past the cells. I didn’t want to, but I looked. His body was gone, but the blood was still inside, on the walls and on the door.
A shudder ran through my body and Cazak pulled me a little faster out of the building. Snow was falling as he led me to Dottie’s and away from my dead father.
Cazak
As I worked in Dottie’s kitchen preparing a snack for Sybil, I was struck by the fact that, for the first time in my life, I felt truly helpless.
There were many times during my military career where things got dicey, and I knew in my heart there was a possibility that I might lose my life. But in those situations, I still retained some measure of control.
If I were smart enough, fast enough, and lucky enough, if I made the jump to cover or I hit my wild one-in-a-hundred shot, then I could still make it out alive. Even when Sakev and I had been trapped on the steep banks of that rushing river in the jungle, with the terrorists closing in, there had been a measure of control. We could have pleaded for our lives, or chosen to end them by jumping into the river. Or we could have drawn our trench knives and attempted to sell ourselves as dearly as possible.
But as Sybil, the woman I cared for more deeply than anyone else in the galaxy, sat in Dottie’s living space and wept softly, I knew for the first time what it meant to be truly helpless. What could I possibly have done in that situation which would make the slightest difference?
Mayor Anatosian was dead. He—no, the thing inside him, the thing controlling him, the Gorgoxian—had smashed his own head against the walls of his cell again and again.
Right in front of Sybil. She had to watch while that thing, that inhuman monster, murdered her father. I suppose she also knew what it was to be completely, totally helpless in the face of tragedy.
All I could do for her on that most terrible of days was be present. I couldn’t change what had happened, or protect her from the profound sense of grief and loss which enveloped her soul. What I could do was provide the proverbial shoulder to cry on. I’d performed that task many times already since our reunion, and I was prepared to do it all night if I had to.
I prepared a plate of cheese, root spices, and a hearty but flavorful bread, my slices meticulous and precise. My mind was overwhelmed with all of the craziness that had happened, and the simple task helped keep me from basically losing my mind.
To be honest, the Xathi scared me. I had never let the fear override my duties, or let it control me, but they were terrible foes and utterly without pity. But just as I once thought I knew what helplessness was, I had also realized that I only thought I knew what fear was.
Fear of death is something that every soldier has to accept, and overcome. Only fools have no fear, despite whatever macho rhetoric you might hear us banter about. Every one of us is scared of dying every time we head into battle. Sk’lar likes to read human philosophy, because of course he does, but one line had always stuck with me.
If you head into battle focused on staying alive, you will die. But if you stay focused on winning, you will live. Or something like that. The real version was grimmer, I think.
On that day, however, I found that fear of death paled in comparison to the fear of what the Gorgoxians represented. The Xathi, as horrifying as they were, could be fought. Strategies could be formed and executed against them.
The Gorgoxians, or Ancient Enemies, or whatever one wanted to call them, were far more insidious. As far as we knew, they could take over any human at any time they wanted, with very little to help discern the difference. That meant that Sybil, my beloved Sybil, could be taken over at any time, as well.
My mind raced with utter, sheer nightmare scenarios. What was to stop the Ancient Enemies from taking over Sybil? Or any of the friends or loved ones we had?
I focused on my task, and it helped a little. When I returned to the living space, Sybil had finished her latest crying fit, and was wiping her face with a damp wash cloth. She gave me a sad smile when I laid the platter in front of her.
“You’re so kind, but I can’t eat right now.”
“You haven’t eaten all day. Please, try a little.”
She picked up a wedge of cheese and nibbled on it. I poured her a small glass of liquor because I figured she needed it, and she made that disappear. Once the alcohol loosened her up a bit and put a fog on her grief, she ate with a bit more enthusiasm, though I could tell she was still in misery.
“Sybil, I needed to say something to you.”
She looked up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes, and I nearly lost my nerve. Not for the first time, I wondered how something so beautiful could ever be involved with a scarred grunt like me.
“What is it?”
“I want you to know, that no matter what happens, I’m going to be there for you. I’ll do my best to protect you, no matter what, and even if I can’t always save the day, I’ll be there for you when you need me.”
She sniffled a bit and leaned against my chest. Her long hair tickled the side of my cheek as Sybil nuzzled up against me.
“You’re the only thing in my life that’s gone right in a long time.” My heart started beating faster, which I am sure she could feel with her head on my chest. “I feel safe in your arms.”
Sybil lifted her head to lock gazes with me. There was still sadness, but there was hope, as well. I leaned in and she matched me, and we gently kissed.
I pulled away from her and put my hand on her cheek, but she moved back in, eager for more. Our kisses grew more intimate, more insistent. Little sighs and gasps escaped both of our mouths as we tasted each other.
“Please make love to me,” she breathed into my ear. “Please. I want to forget everything.”
“Sybil,” I replied. “You need to face your pain.”
“Right now, I only want to feel loved and safe, Cazak,” she pleaded.
“I don’t want to be just a distraction to you,” I couldn’t help but say.
“You’re not,” she said, steadying herself and looking at me. “You’re my rock.”
I saw she was telling the truth.
That she loved me. As I loved her.
My tongue invaded her ready mouth as I held the back of her head, and my other hand slid down her sinuous spine. Sybil’s hands tugged at my outer shirt, fumbling with the snaps as we both began to give in to our baser instincts.
I pulled the shoulder straps on her dress down to her elbows, exposing the perfection of her heavy round breasts. Sybil jerked my
shirt open and ran her nails across my chest. Her half-closed eyes blazed with desire, and just the sight of her half naked caused my member to stiffen into rock hardness.
“What’s this?” Her husky whisper contained a note of teasing mischief. I moaned as Sybil ground her crotch against the straining erection which was painfully stretching my pants. “Is this all for me?”
“Only you.” I grabbed her perfect breasts and squeezed, massaging the supple, pliant flesh into different shapes. “Only you, forever.”
Sybil’s eyes fluttered closed, and she grasped my wrists and seemed to be encouraging me to press harder, grip her tighter.
“Promise?” Her eyes opened, and she bit her lower lip.
“Yes.” I could barely gasp out my reply, so fast was my heart beating.
Sybil lifted her skirt until it was rumpled around her waist. The miniscule undergarment she wore seemed hardly adequate to cover much of anything. She released my wrists and unsnapped the side of her garment, whipping the panties off and across the room.
The sweet, musky scent of her nether lips sent me into a near frenzy. I started furiously unbuckling my pants, and Sybil was eagerly helpful in removing them. She lifted her leg in the air, straddled me once more, and slid her dripping wet pussy down over my cock.
She threw her head back and groaned at high volume as my cock buried itself balls deep inside her. Sybil put her hands behind her head and swiveled her hips like an erotic dancer. I was ridden like a boat in a stormy sea, and any thoughts I might have had about just how many times she’d had sex evaporated behind a sea of ecstasy. I quickly decided it didn’t matter. Sybil was with me now. Our bodies were conjoined as one, just as our fates had become.
Sybil let out a repetitive, guttural groan each time she slid herself back down my cock. Her cries echoed off the living space walls, growing louder and louder as I struggled to hold myself back. My cock throbbed, swollen and ready to unload its cargo, but I wanted to come at the same time as my love.
Finally, Sybil arched backward on my lap and screamed, her body writhing about as if she had no control over it any longer. I gratefully allowed myself to release, and I pumped her full of my hot load.
Sybil collapsed onto me, leaning her head on my shoulder as we both panted heavily. Our sweat mingled, and I remained inside of her as we recovered until my cock was nearly flaccid.
Then she settled into my lap, and I held her there on the sofa and stroked her soft hair. We uttered those three little words that all couples do, and soon she drifted off to sleep in my arms.
This time, when I watched her sleep, I knew I’d failed to protect her.
The universe had reached out, stabbed her, wounding her in a way we’d never imagined.
But I’d be damned if it happened again.
Sybil
A rhythmic hum filled the air as our shuttle sailed through the snow-filled skies over Kaster. I sat next to Cazak, holding his massive hand, our fingers intertwined. Our encounter the previous evening had been bittersweet. As much as we had been building the connection between us, it had come on the same day my father had killed himself.
I shook my head, as if to free it of such thoughts. No, my father had not killed himself. The Gorgoxian inside him had forced that fate upon him. Cazak had been quite firm about that point, that those possessed by the Ancient Enemies were no more responsible for their actions than a gun is morally responsible if it’s used in a murder.
The Gorgoxian had used my father like a tool, and then discarded him, like so much trash. I glanced over at the solemnly draped casket which bore my father’s remains. At the upcoming funeral, it would remain closed.
My eyes squeezed shut in a vain attempt to stop another deluge of tears. The Gorgoxian had not only stolen my father, it had stolen any chance for me to look at his face and say goodbye. Now when I thought of my father, I could not picture him without seeing an overlay of his hideously fractured skull and dead-eyed stare.
Cazak slipped his arm around my shoulders and I melted into him. The rest of Team Three mostly looked away or feigned blindness, but the big Valorni, Tyehn, did reach out and pat my shoulder in sympathy.
Jalok’s knees bounced up and down, his face a mask of barely pent-up rage. The death of my father had hit close to home for him, because of his connection to Dottie. I tried to keep it all in context. Cazak said Jalok had once faced disciplinary action for crippling a group of anti-alienist rioters. Hopefully he would find a legitimate target to unleash his fury upon before he exploded.
Sk’lar stood stoically in the middle aisle, one hand bracing himself on the roof of the cabin. His black eyes remained as inscrutable as ever, but I could see the tension around his mouth. I wondered if his implants were releasing something to help him remain so placid, because Sk’lar also had a human life-mate. He had to have been thinking that she could be vulnerable to the Gorgoxian’s influence.
The shuttle lurched to a halt, then descended rapidly toward the windswept tarmac below. The buildings of Kaster came into view through the viewports, but I didn’t bother to look. I knew every curve and spire by heart, and had I gazed at the skyline that day, it would have brought me no comfort.
“Damn it all.” Jalok peered through the rear viewport. “It looks like there’s a huge welcome wagon.”
Sk’lar grunted, but I believed he was more than a bit angry.
“We should have figured. Death of a mayor, and all.”
His ebon skinned face jerked toward me, as if he’d somehow been disrespectful. I lifted my head from Cazak’s shoulder and smiled weakly up at him.
“It’s all right, Commander. I’ve been a wealthy politician’s child my whole life. I can handle the attention. Just give me a moment.”
“Take all the time you need.” Sk’lar locked gazes with Jalok and Navat. They came over for a conference with the commander. Sk’lar spoke in a low tone, but I could make out most of what he said. “I want you two to do a sweep of the crowd. Eject any anti-alienists you come across—gently. We don’t want to upset Miss Anatosian more than we have to. Understood?”
The two aliens nodded solemnly. Team Three was sometimes thought of as a group of cowboys, but today they were showing their true colors. These were men of honor, no matter what part of the galaxy they hailed from.
And Cazak was one of them. He held my hand until we reached the top of the ramp, when I gently disengaged from him. It wouldn’t do for the mayor’s daughter to be seen holding hands with an…
I shook my head. What was I thinking? Cazak looked at me with befuddlement dancing behind his golden eyes as I took his hand again, but I didn’t explain. Instead, I threw my shoulders back, held my head high, and adopted a solemn, stoic, but subtly pained expression. It was what would be expected of me during my father’s funeral.
The entourage consisted of the entire city council, all turned out to honor my father. Of course, the fact that it was a great opportunity to get exposure in preparation for running for the now empty office of mayor was probably not lost on them either.
They offered their condolences, and their platitudes. I’m sure you’ve heard it all before. He was a great man, I always considered him a friend, I’m so sorry for your loss.
Loss was a great word, because I felt as if I were moving through the day with half my heart torn asunder. I’d lost my father, and I’d lost a piece of myself, as well.
Their words seemed so inadequate. Some part of me knew that I should be comforted by what they said, but I just felt numb to it all. What good were mere words when invisible monsters were lurking about, waiting to use us until we burned up?
After I made it past the heads of the city, I had to deal with my father’s business partners. No doubt all of them were plotting how to swindle me out of my inheritance. I’d never thought much about what I would do after my father died. I didn’t want to at that point, either.
I wondered how long they would wait before calling on me with papers to sign. What was the appropri
ate amount of time for a grieving child? For some reason, the number three popped into my head, but I remembered learning in school that the number three holds arcane significance to the human race, so I might have been way off.
Once past the men of industry in Kaster, I ran into my old partying crowd. I say old, though at the time it had only been days since I’d last spent time with them. In truth, I felt as if I’d aged a hundred years since then.
Still, they were kind, and didn’t bat an eye that I was with Cazak. Perhaps my impassioned speech and subsequent storming off had had the desired effect after all.
But even as the funeral procession marched along to the patch of ground where my father would be laid to rest, I couldn’t help but wonder if some of those well-wishers, or holders of power, or captains of industry, were even then under the control of the Gorgoxians. I had begun to think that, perhaps, the Ancient Enemies taking over my father had been some sort of intelligence gathering mission on humanity. Perhaps they were refining their impersonation techniques, so as to give fewer clues to their existence.
My mind kept winding around in the corridors of paranoia, where every veiled look or slight pause in speech was interpreted as a sure sign of Gorgoxian possession. Any one of them could have been possessed, any one.
How could I possibly see any of these people the same way now? That man I danced with at the party, would I soon have to watch as he smashed his own head in? Would the kind alderwoman who patted my cheek and even shed a tear for my father suddenly turn bestial, violent, and attempt to throttle me?
I would have been overwhelmed and pitched forward to huddle in madness on the ground if not for Cazak and the entourage of Team Three. Cazak’s hand clenching my own was like a lifeline in a stormy sea, keeping me from drifting away from shore and being swallowed by a massive wave of despair. The Ancient Enemies would not find his mind a fertile place for possession.
I could trust Cazak, and I could trust the aliens around me.