Brute: A Dark Sci-Fi Romance

by Loki Renard

She looks as though she is on the verge of fainting. She flinches when I pick her up, and I know why. No woman like her can contend with the amount of death she has seen today. I inflicted it in her defense, but I can tell she’s not overcome with admiration.

  I can’t be concerned with her feelings. Feelings won’t fix what happened here today. I can protect her. I can keep her safe from the Genari, and from whatever other war tribes are coming in search of that chip.

  The freighters are slow, but they won’t draw attention. We can spend the next couple of months on one, make a decision as to what to do with the chip.

  She has it wrapped around her wrist, and her wrist clenched tight to her body. She is protective of it. She won’t like it when we sell it.

  We reach the freighter dock in good time, and as fate would have it, we are just in time to board a ship bound for Alpha Centauri. It’s perfect. A lesser traveled route, but still with enough traffic to mask us.

  Farti is bouncing along next to me. He doesn’t care about the ship we just lost. It was a rental anyway. We’ll lose our deposit, but these things happen. The money we get from selling that chip will cover a dozen ships. It will set us up for life.

  Today has been rough, but all things considered, this was a successful extraction. And I have a sweet little bonus in my arms too.

  We have enough funds to lock down a decent two-person cabin. One room for Farti. One room for Pyxel and me. And it has a view from the port side of the ship. She will see creation as she has never seen it before.

  I will show her what she has been missing. Physically, emotionally, and carnally.

  But first, she needs rest. By the time we board, she is barely conscious. I may have been too rough with her. I may have put her through more than she can handle. The battle with the Genari might have pushed her over the edge.

  Or maybe she’s just tired.

  I take her into the bathing chamber, peel the clothing from her body, and discard it into the trash chute. The chip is tied around her wrist. I leave it there, let her arm drape elegantly over the side of the tub. She is so beautiful, this little human of mine. Naked, she is even more gorgeous than she was semi-clothed. It is a pleasure simply to look at her. There are few things this stunning in creation, at least, to my eyes. This body of hers is perfect.

  Her sex is swollen and puffy, reddened with use. The tight little hole of her anus is yet to fully contract, and there is some puffiness there too. I have made my mark on her.

  She makes soft little sounds. I think they’re pleasant ones. There is a little smile on her face as I lower her into the tub of water and sit beside it, swishing warm water over her naked form. It’s not really doing much to get her clean, but it’s doing a lot to comfort her.

  I put one arm behind her back to keep her afloat and she curls up in the bath, rolls over onto her side and draws her knees up to her chest. Her eyes half-close, her long lashes so dark and delicate. The corners of her lips curl up and I feel her relax against me. She’s trusting me to keep her afloat, depending on me to preserve her life yet again.

  Looking down at her, I feel a warmth and a softness in my heart and chest. In all the times I have rutted, and there have been many of them, I have never felt like this. Sexual conquest is not foreign to me, as is real conquest. But it has never been so rich and meaningful before. I want to protect her. I want to possess her.

  * * *

  Pyxel

  Soft, cool sheets envelop me. It has been a long time since anyone put me to bed, and it feels nice to be taken care of, though the sensible part of my mind knows that Crash is a trader, and traders always have a reason to take something.

  I close my eyes, and I let myself believe what I need to believe. That he cares.

  He’s not capable of caring. That awful little voice in the back of my mind pops up, even so close to sleep. Crash is such a strange creature. And that’s why I have to stay on my guard, even when my guard is down.

  I can’t let myself get attached to him. I have known him a matter of hours. Awful, dangerous, chaotic hours. He could let me go at any point, because if there is one thing life has taught me, it’s that everybody leaves.

  * * *

  Crash

  “Push her out the porthole.”

  Farti is not impressed with our new companion. He rumbled and grumbled the entire time we were preparing to leave Earth, and now that we’re off planet, heading past Jupiter.

  “Take the chip and get rid of her,” he says, stamping around the room.

  “No.”

  “You work for me,” he reminds me, his voice a bleating tremor. “That chip on her arm should be in my pocket. We have a seller to meet. This is business. You can fuck when we’re done.”

  “I’m not fucking. I’m sitting.”

  He’s never satisfied until he gets his money. I don’t know if he’s going to get it this time. Pyxel wants to keep her chip, and at this point, taking it from her would be stealing it, even if we gave her credits as a result.

  The chip. Pyxel. Farti. I can probably have any two of them, but not all three. If I keep Pyxel, I have to keep the chip. If I sell the chip, I lose Pyxel—her affection, anyway. I can keep her against her will, but it’s not the same as when she melts for me. If I keep the chip and Pyxel, Farti will kick up even more of a stink. He might even actually fire me. It’s all about the money for him, always has been.

  He might not have any loyalty to me, but I have some to him. The furry little asshole would last about five minutes on his own, and we’ve been working together for years now. Watching his back has taken me on real adventures, and made me a rich man.

  Time and time, I have seen fellow soldiers give up everything for a female. I never understood it. Thought it was a weakness. Now, I’m not so sure. Maybe there are some females who are worth it. Maybe Pyxel is worth it.

  “Take that chip off her, leave her sleeping,” he insists.

  “There’s no point doing that. We have to wait until we dock in several weeks.”

  “You better be all fucked out by then, because I’m taking that chip to my buyer,” Farti insists.

  I give him a hard look. “How much money have you made with my help?”

  “Four billion, six hundred thousand, four hundred and twenty three credits,” he says without blinking an eyelid. Those numbers are right at the forefront of his mind. Always have been. Always will.

  “Isn’t that enough money?”

  “No. That chip is worth two trillion. And you let her wear it around her wrist like a trinket. I want it. I’m going to take it if you don’t get it for me.”

  He’s an honest little scoundrel. And two trillion credits is a lot. More than I can ask him to forfeit. Maybe more than I can forfeit. This situation is messy and it’s because Pyxel made it messy—and then I made it even messier.

  “This isn’t like you,” Farti growls. “You don’t…” he searches for a word. “…think!”

  “I don’t think?”

  “You think about the work. And when the work is done, you drink and you fuck and you look for the next payday. You don’t bathe girls and then sit around thinking about them.”

  He’s right. I don’t. But Pyxel is different. And I can’t say entirely how, or why, I just know she is. Love is irrational.

  I stop myself at even thinking the word. Love? Is that what I feel for the woman I just thrashed, bound, fucked both her anus and her vagina? Lust. That’s what I should be feeling. Just lust. But there’s more to it than that. I know it. And I think Farti does too. That’s why he’s worried right now. Maybe he should be.

  Chapter Six

  Pyxel

  It seems like every time I open my eyes, something is exploding.

  I was fast asleep, but sirens dragged me out of my slumber and set me naked on my feet. They’re so loud I’m almost concerned they’re going to shatter my eardrums, but that’s actually not the worst problem I have.

  The lights are flickering, and I am alone. Explos
ions rock the ship, back and forth, up and down. The floor is bucking like a wild bronco and I can’t keep my footing. I slip, fall to the floor. Where is Crash? I shout his name, but my voice is lost in the chaos.

  I crawl across the floor, take hold of the rail on the wall, and pull myself to look out the window. What I see makes me scream again, but that one is lost as well. There are ships outside. Lots of ships. Genari ones, just like the one Crash knocked out of the sky. There have to be thousands of them filling almost every bit of space. And they’re firing on us over and over again.

  The explosions don’t seem to be hitting the ship. They seem to be detonating a mile or two off it, but they’re sending out shockwaves that make it roll around like a ship at sea.

  They’ve come for me. For the chip. I know it in my gut.

  And they’re going to get it. I know that too. Crash can’t fight this many Genari. Nobody can. This freighter doesn’t seem to have any fire power, and even if it did, it wouldn’t be enough. The sheer number of them is overwhelming.

  “Pyxel.”

  Crash is standing behind me. He isn’t in his war form, a fact I find disconcerting and calming at the same time. If he’s not ready to fight, then maybe he doesn’t need to. Maybe this isn’t about us. Me.

  He comes forward and wraps me in his arms, pulling me close to his chest. Farti runs up too. I feel his furry body brushing against my leg.

  “Why are they here? What’s happening?”

  “They’ve been in touch with the captain. They’re going to be boarding the ship. Pyxel…”

  He doesn’t have to say it. We both know he can’t fight an entire fleet of Genari. He can kill a few hundred of them. Maybe a thousand. But there must be almost a million of them out there, and we don’t have the benefit of a rubble ceiling to protect us. This freighter is floating in space, a sitting duck for the fleet.

  Crash knows he’s beaten, and so do I. There’s no dark hole to funnel them through this time. They surround us, and there are hundreds of souls on this freighter.

  “We have to give it up,” he says. “I’m sorry. But we do.”

  “I understand.”

  I do understand. I am tired of fighting and fleeing. I am tired of being terrified. If this is the price of peace, I will pay it.

  Crash wraps a sheet around me, then leads me out of the cabin, and to one of the loading bays. The Genari are waiting for us, along with the small number of ship’s reinforcements. They have some big guns, but they look old and rusty, and the men holding them look nervous.

  The Genari do not look nervous. Their faces are all covered by those angular helmets, and their silence is intimidating. The way they hold themselves is strong and calm. I have seen them fight, and I have seen them die. They are brave.

  “Give it to me,” Crash says.

  I blink tears out of my eyes. I’ve fought so hard to hang on to this, but there’s no option now. They will take it. It will save the lives of everybody on this freighter.

  I unwrap it from my wrist and give it to him. He walks forward, and offers it to the lead of the Genari contingent.

  I choke back a little sob, knowing this is the last fragment of what has been. There goes the history of my people, of the height of Earth’s technology. Gone.

  The sob turns to a scream. My scream.

  The Genari don’t take the chip. Instead, they swarm him. Moving as one man, a thousand Genari soldiers run over him, covering him in their bodies. He is utterly buried by them. There is nothing he can do. I see him surging beneath their weight, but nobody will help him, and I can’t, because they have me too. Their hands are on my arms, my legs. They are pulling me up from the ground and carrying me from the freighter.

  I scream for help. For Crash. I scream for mercy. I scream until my throat is raw, but nobody comes to help me, just like nobody came to help him.

  Chapter Seven

  Pyxel

  I expect pain, but pain doesn’t come. The Genari carry me along with many hands, moving me competently and wordlessly, taking me like they might take any inanimate object. I am crying, writhing, wailing. I am begging for mercy. I am asking them to take me back. I am promising to give them everything my grandfather stockpiled if they will just let me go. But if they understand me, they are not paying any kind of attention.

  They take me, and they push me into a little hole. It’s so tight I can’t move my arms or legs. I am held on all sides, so firmly that all I can do is breathe and nothing more. My panic does nothing as the world goes dark.

  I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know what happens for what feels like the longest time. It’s dark, and I can’t move, and screaming does nothing. I am buried. Again. And all I can do is submit to it, and hope for rescue.

  * * *

  Many hours later, light flows in on me. It has a golden hue, unlike any light I have ever been bathed in before. It is warm, and as I am pulled from the cell in which they imprisoned me, I feel a lightness rushing over me. Maybe it’s just relief. Maybe it’s something more.

  The Genari who take me out are not the same ones who put me into the cell. As I look around them, and the place I have been taken, I get the sense that I am in a home. Not the sort of cozy small home a family of four or five might have; a home for four or five billion. I can’t tell where the light is coming from, but it seems to emanate from every part of this great room. I can see walkways connecting in and out, soft curves of material that looks like a porous glowing stone.

  This is my first time seeing the Genari without their helmets. They are humanoid. Ish. They have great big dark eyes. Pure black. There is no pupil, no white, just a wide void that gives me chills.

  Their faces are angular, but not without beauty. Their cheekbones are high, their noses very small. They are insect-like in a way that could be frightening, but I find it entrancing. Fine antennae grow from their heads, articulated at several points, and apparently entirely under voluntary control.

  I am held between them as those antennae skitter over me, touching lightly, inspecting every inch of me. It tickles slightly, but it doesn’t feel bad. I must be in shock, because I’m not doing what I think I should be doing. I’m not screaming, or begging, or trying to escape. I’m just standing here, letting them take me in. Taking them in too. This is all too strange to be stressed by. I almost feel as though I have taken leave of my senses, or as if this is all happening in some kind of dream state. It is real, but this is no reality I am familiar with.

  They begin to urge me to move. I do as they wish. There are many of them, and I cannot erase the image of Crash being utterly overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. They do not speak to me, not a word, but I am remembering everything Crash told me about the Genari as they move me through a series of passages that widen and lead to a chamber many times larger than the one I emerged from.

  And then we arrive at the destination they have in mind for me, and my breath is taken away. I am to have an audience with a Genari queen. I recognize her immediately from the description Crash gave. There can be no mistaking this creature who occupies a space more grand and impressive than anything I have ever seen on Earth.

  She is so large my first response is one of awe. When Crash described a queen of their species, the image I concocted in my mind was grotesque, but she is beautiful. Blonde hair cascades from her head in flowing golden ringlets. She has great big blue eyes and a tiny little nose that is barely there. Her mouth is barely… okay, this is where things begin to become strange. She doesn’t have a mouth per se, not as much as she has a hole that is squeezed shut, somewhat like an anus at the wrong end of a body.

  She takes up almost the entire chamber. Her head is a few inches away from the ceiling, and her body is almost as broad as well. She is naked, but her nudity does not seem to be as lewd as it might otherwise be. She has no breasts, but her body is full and voluptuous, all curves. The Genari warriors seemed to be basically human when they attacked. Two arms. Two legs. A head. She doesn’t have ar
ms or legs. She is a big, bulbous torso, culminating in an ovipositor.

  Her abdomen pulses with contractions as she gives birth to a gleaming round egg the size of my torso. It is taken by two Genari workers and whipped away through a passage in the side of the room. Shedding the egg does not seem to concern her, and already another little white dot signals that a fresh egg is about to come into the world.

  The room is calm, the atmosphere strangely beautiful. The Genari treat her with reverence and care. Two Genari women are cleaning her with soft cloths, keeping her hydrated and gleaming. This is the nexus of their world, the center of creation. Without the queen, the Genari die.

  As I look closer, I note that there are little slits down the length of her lower torso, I suppose, about where her pussy might be, if she were a human, and not a gigantic larvae woman. Are those the places the Genari males have pushed their cocks and left them behind, pumping seed inside her so she can keep creating new life? They must be.

  I feel as though I have walked into something very intimate. I should be terrified, but there is beauty even in this grotesque setting. I suppose, if I were to come upon a human birth, it would be much more difficult to bear witness to. Those are messier, more bloody, more frightening for observer and participants alike.

  As I watch, another egg is born and swept away in loving arms. It is all done in an elegant manner, with such easy grace I am further stunned into a silence where there are no words.

  I have seen so many of these people die. I know those little eggs the Genari seem so proud and protective of will turn into fearsome warriors. Just like the warriors who died at Crash’s hands. I’m almost afraid that he will find me here and wreak that same chaos on them. It’s a strange thought, given I desperately crave rescue.

  I have been under the impression that the Genari are evil. They came and they destroyed Crash’s ship, half the forest, they made me destroy my ancestral home. They hurt Crash. They took me prisoner. I have so many reasons to hate them, but there is something about bearing witness to the bringing of new life that makes it impossible to feel hate.