by Helen Allan
For Sorrow, being with him was as natural as breathing.
The evening he came to her room, ostensibly to hear about Earth mating and sex rituals they had not been able to keep their hands off each other – very little talk had occurred that night. Neither had again raised the issue of their feelings or the need to leave the castle; they had simply done it. When he knocked on her door the following morning, she was already packed and waiting.
No firm commitment was made between them in any way on the journey back to the country, but he did not ask, and she did not object when they reached the barracks, and he put her bags in his room and began to undress her.
The fact that the captain, a prince, was involved with a creature from another planet had gradually leaked from the barracks to the real world. News organisations had sought and been denied interviews; his parents had communicated their objections and received no reply. But luckily for Sorrow, she was very popular with the cadets and firm friends with most of the other trainers, so life at the barracks was supportive and kind – and Sorrow knew that part of this was because they all understood that she was not planning on staying.
Seeing her resolve now, Micah rose and poured himself a glass of water, his back to her.
“And what of our babies, Sorrow?” he asked quietly.
She laughed and sat up, pulling on her clothes, but frowned when she looked up to see he was still staring at the wall, his shoulders strangely stiff, his back to her.
“Micah?”
“I asked you a question.”
“Are you saying?” she swallowed hard, “are you saying that somehow, someway, my human DNA has fertilised your Nãga eggs?”
“If that were the case,” he said quietly, his voice level and devoid of all emotion, “would you stay and give birth to my children? Would you carry my babies?”
Sorrow gasped and sat back down heavily on the bed, covering her face with both hands as silent sobs racked her body.
Micah, hearing her muffled distress, strode back to the bed and knelt before her.
“Is it so terrible?” he asked, his voice full of pain, “would it be so terrible to stay with me, Sorrow, to marry me and birth my children?”
“No,” Sorrow sobbed, her voice barely coming out as a squeak.
He gripped her hands and pulled them from her face as she turned aside, shamed by the power of her emotion, embarrassed for him to see how deeply she was affected by his news.
“Tell me, please,” he groaned, “why you despair? Is it because I am so different from you? Could you never love one such as I? Because I love you, Sorrow, more than anything in this world, in any world.”
Turning back to him she threw her arms around his neck and allowed her sobs free reign as she tried to get out her words, to tell him her thoughts, her voice choked with emotion, her tears running down his neck and torso.
“Micah,” she started, pausing to hiccup a few more sobs, “I love you too.”
He breathed out deeply, holding her as she began a new round of sobbing.
“Then why?” he murmured, shaking his head, “why this reaction? Please, Sorrow, you’re killing me, speak your thoughts.”
As her tears wound down, just a few hiccups jolting her frame like small electric shocks, she haltingly tried to voice her feelings.
“I, I once lost a baby. I miscarried after a terrible shock; a terrible thing happened. And I never thought I would be able to have another child because I have been transported back and forth in time using the gods’ scarab time transmuters, the ones I told you about. To hear,” she began to cry quietly again, “to hear that you have conceived my children, six eggs – the happiness I feel is too great to bear, too great.”
She began crying again in earnest as he kissed the tears from her cheeks and pulled her back to his shoulder.
“You have made me the happiest male on the planet,” he said gently, “our babies will be unusual, but beautiful, with you as a mother, how could they not be so?”
“Micah, Micah,” she groaned, gripping him around the waist, pulling herself to him as though she would never let him go, while her mind did exactly the opposite, pushing him away, “it changes nothing, can’t you see, I still need to go above, I still need to save those I can.”
“Then I shall come with you,” he said, his voice firm, authoritative, “but Sorrow, when we have succeeded at saving those you insist upon giving salvation to, then you will return, you will marry me, and accept my eggs into your body.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she laughed, raising her head and kissing his face, light feathery, quick kisses all over, before he gripped her face and looked deeply into her eyes, forcing her to do the same.
“Do you promise me this, Earth woman?”
“I do.”
12
“Are you sure you feel alright?” Sorrow asked again, as they looked to the distance where the mountain range indicated the refuge of the resistance, at least another two hours’ walk away across the hot desert sands.
“Will you stop asking that?” Micah laughed, “I carry eggs, yes. They are fertile, yes, but I have at least a week before I must impregnate you, “in the meantime, it feels as if I have eaten a rather large meal, that is my only discomfort.”
“I know,” Sorrow shook her head, “but I don’t want you to overheat my babies.”
“Your babies,” he smiled and leaned across to kiss her on the top of the head, “you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that.”
“And you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say you plan to impregnate me,” she laughed, “I’ve wanted to experience that ovipositor ever since the first time I saw it bulging in your pants.”
“After all the pleasure I have given you with my tongue, my hands,” he shook his head, “what kind of a creature are you?”
“The kind that you enjoy pleasuring, and, let’s not forget the pleasure I have given you, oh great captain, with my tongue, my hands…”
“Yes, you are truly an imaginative little monster,” he sighed, shaking his head, “and if my ovipositor gives either of us even a quotient of the pleasure we have already enjoyed, I have no hope of ever leaving the bedroom again.
“Oh, I’m sure it will,” Sorrow smirked, “and if it does, you may not have to give up your army career entirely, because you will have a squadron of your own children to train.”
“What have I done?” he fake moaned, as Sorrow giggled
Their laughter was interrupted by the site of a brown blur on the horizon, heading towards them.
Micah raised his binoculars and shrugged before handing them to Sorrow.
“It’s Ib and one other findaile, I’m sure of it,” Sorrow said, after studying the shapes for some time, “they must be coming to get us.”
“And we will ride these creatures?” Micah asked, taking Sorrow’s word for it that the approaching findaile were friendly and sheathing his weapons.
“Well, it beats the hell out of walking the rest of the day.”
“Agreed,” he nodded, still looking uncertain.
“And if it is not them,” Sorrow shrugged, “and they look like they might attack, we will shoot them.”
“Agreed,” he shrugged.
Taking her hand, they continued walking towards the findaile.
“And they didn’t mind you leaving? A prince? A captain?” Judgment asked again, frowning hard at Micah where he sat close by Sorrow, their thighs pressed firmly together, his arm thrown casually around her shoulders.
“I simply told them we were going to gather Sorrow’s things because she plans to return with me after the battle,” he said, spacing his words out quietly and carefully in light of the obvious aggression Judgment was feeling towards him, and his tenuous grasp on their language.
Sorrow had already told him her friends would be able to understand his language easily, as all Red Leaders were implanted with a translation chip as children. Etienne and Raphael also had chips, courtesy of Sorrow,
but Micah did not. His grasp on their language was due to the lessons Sorrow had given him over recent months; he still had much to learn.
“And this is true?” Etienne turned to Sorrow now, his brows knitted in concern.
“Yes.”
“But you know, ma cherie, that when we blow this place, every portal will disappear – there will be no leaving, you will never see your family again, your mother, myself.”
“I know,” she said quietly, her eyes downcast.
Ever since she had learned of her impending pregnancy with Micah and agreed to marry him, her biggest concern had been her mother. But she knew that deep down her mum would want her happy, no matter where she was, and that if she could impress upon Etienne her deep love for the Nãga prince and her joy at the prospect of being a mother – he would pass that onto Megan and help assuage her grief.
“Come,” Etienne said now, standing and holding his hand out to her, “walk with me for a moment, ma beaute.”
Sorrow nodded and rose, turning back to Micah momentarily.
“Are you going to be…”
Micah interrupted her with a smile, his eyes soft, “go. I’ll be fine.”
“Perhaps,” Judgment frowned.
Sorrow shook her head at him and followed Etienne.
To say that Judgment and Raphael didn’t agree with her choice of lover, or decision to stay on a planet that was about to be nuked, was the understatement of the century. Only Etienne, her constant friend and confidante, had remained resolute about not voicing his thoughts. Until now.
As they walked, he reached for her hand and tucked it through his arm.
“Now, ma amour, not that I oppose you in any way, of course,” he smirked, “I want you happy and safe, you know that, but have you truly thought this through? You don’t have Stockholm Syndrome, for instance?”
Sorrow burst out laughing.
“I wasn’t really his prisoner from the moment I arrived,” she giggled, “we spent most of our time, once we realised our feelings for each other, at his barracks where I helped train cadets. Their world, Etienne, it is so beautiful, so very, very wonderful. You’d like it, you know; the ladies are gorgeous.”
“Spined?” he cocked his head to one side.
“Yes, but they only have sex to procreate, so you would have to introduce them to the pleasures of the flesh purely for sinful purposes…”
“Indeed,” he drawled, “you do make their world seem an attractive proposition…but, I sense you and your prince are closer than mere bed partners.”
“He is wonderful, Etienne, we have spent pretty much every moment of the past few months getting to know one another, I, I love him.”
“He must be a very interesting man to have managed to capture your heart,” he smiled gently, “and I don’t want to intimate anything to the contrary, however, ma cherie, we both know that you have sometimes,” he held her by the arm as she turned to walk away, holding her still, “sometimes been a little blind to the flaws of the partners you choose. You tend to see the best in people, Sorrow.”
“He is carrying my children,” she said, turning to face him and looking into his eyes.
“Oh, my sweet, beautiful girl,” he sighed, pulling her into his arms and hugging her tightly, “I am so very happy for you.”
She smiled as she stood in his embrace, happy tears beginning to form, and sad tears at the thought of leaving him, her best friend, someone who understood her so well and so deeply.
“Six,” she sniffed, pulling back from him and wiping her tears with hasty fingers, “we are going to have six little Nãga-humans, well, half-human-Nãgas.”
“Mon Dieu!” Etienne frowned, looking down at Sorrow’s flat stomach, “how far gone are you?”
“Not me,” she laughed, “him.”
Seeing Etienne’s shocked expression, she burst out laughing, her giggles echoing through the cavern and drawing the eyes of nearby findailes and red guards.
“No!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, yes. He has them inside him, growing. When we return, in about a week, they will be due to be transferred to me – I will incubate them for a few months and then give birth to them.”
“But you are so petite….” Etienne frowned, “six, ma cherie, what are you thinking?”
“No,” she shook her head, her laughter causing her to clutch her stomach in mirth. “They are tiny, about the size of kittens. They are born with teeth; they can eat straight away, walk straight away – so much more advanced than humans.”
“But yours will be different,” he frowned, trying to catch her eyes and force her to be serious, “they are part god, part human, part Nãga. What if they grow to the size of house cats, and not kittens – how will you birth six?”
“I imagine I will have a caesarean if necessary,” she frowned, “the Nãga are highly advanced. Their surgery and general medical skills seem far more sophisticated than those on Earth. I have so much to learn still about them…but Etienne, is my giving birth what you are really worried about?”
“I will miss you,” he said, quietly, pulling her once again to him.
“And I you, French man,” she said, all laughter gone from her voice as she hugged him tightly in return and rested her head on his shoulder, “more than you know.”
They parted without further words and walked back to where the others waited. The logistics needed to be arranged, time was running short, and so far, Sorrow’s plan, the only plan she had been able to hatch, was risky at best.
13
She waited in the dark, crouched behind a tall building for Etienne’s signal.
Her breath frosted in the crisp desert night air.
Behind her, she heard soft cries and titters from the skinless women and turned quickly to put her finger to her lips in what she hoped was a signal they understood to shut the fuck up.
Everything hinged on them getting into the nursery and then beyond to the hangars undetected – everything. When dawn came, the portals would open, and all hell would break loose, she had just two hours, that was all Judgment had given her, to rescue those she could.
Finally, just when she imagined she could begin to see the faint glow of dawn on the horizon, she saw the nursery office lights flick on and off again three times, and she knew Etienne and Raphael had succeeded in the first part of their mission.
Whether Judgement and his new second in command, Tribulation, and the third pilot, Determination, had made it to the hangars and secured the necessary aircraft, was unknown. She had not seen an alert raised and had to hope this was a good sign.
Rising from where she hid, she signalled to the skinless women to run and, as one, they pelted across the cobblestone square towards the nursery, some, heavily pregnant, lagging behind but being hurried by others who took them by the elbows and virtually carried them at a jog across the square.
“About time,” she hissed to Etienne as she held open the double doors and ushered the women through. They crammed in like sardines, several hundred in all, and spilled through into nearby rooms, standing quietly, awaiting instruction.
“It was harder to disable the goddess working behind the counter than we thought,” he murmured.
“Disable? I told you to shoot the bitch and send the signal, what part of ‘kill’ don’t you understand?”
“Since when have you become so bloodthirsty?” Raphael whispered, his face dark, “you do realise we have fucking lived here for more than 12 months and spent a great deal of time with these women?”
“So what,” Sorrow hissed, “she is a monster, they all are. Are you telling me you screwed her, so you couldn’t kill her?”
“Something like that,” Etienne muttered.
“Where is she? I’ll do it myself.”
Etienne and Raphael looked at one another, clearly torn, before Etienne shrugged and led Sorrow into an adjacent room where a goddess lay tied up with electrical cords on the floor, gagged with her golden belt.
Sorrow stalked towards
the woman, soup gun on silent and at the ready, when, seeing the god’s face she gasped.
“It can’t be.”
Backing out of the room, she shut the door and turned to her friends.
“Do you know who that is?”
“She is the guardian, and a god,” Raphael shrugged, “I’ve spent a lot of time with her, she asks for us both regularly, more to talk than to fuck – I like her, Sorrow, I couldn’t kill her.”
“The guardian? Holy Jesus. She’s no ordinary god,” Sorrow said, casting a quick glance at the skinless crowding the corridors and looking increasingly terrified as they waited for her orders, “it’s Nephthys.”
“The Nephthys?” Etienne gasped.
“The one and only.”
“You are sure.”
“I’ve lived her memories like they were my own when I was in the regeneration tank – I’d know her anywhere.”
“What is she doing here?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Last I heard she was travelling with Osiris to Heaven to give birth to her son – I don’t need to remind you who that was. But she did say she was planning to continue the search for her daughter, stolen by Shu and Tefnut for their breeding program.”
“That’s why she is here then,” Raphael said, shrugging. “So, what do we do with her?”
Sorrow took a deep breath and returned to the room, kneeling down beside the god she ripped her gag off and eyeballed her.
“What are you doing here, Nephthys? How is it you are the guardian for your enemy’s breeding program?”
She shook her head, cleared her throat and struggled to sit.
“Stay down,” Sorrow growled, pushing her back to the floor, “I’m only going to ask you this one more time. What are you doing here?”
“I know about your little insurrection,” she said, her voice high-pitched, sounding more like it belonged to a little girl than a woman thousands of years old, “I wish to join you in your attack on the portals.”