"Well, that's just great," Micayla said with disgust. "You know practically everyone and the hookers are the only ones you trust?"
"And you," Windura reminded her. "I trust you. You're too new here to be corrupted."
"And you, who knows everyone, aren't corrupt?"
Windura shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a computer geek. I can't be corrupted because I don't have any vices."
"No addiction to drugs, sex, or gambling?"
Windura shook her head.
"Not even food or alcohol?"
"Well, I do have to eat, but--"
"Never been bribed to fix a computer with expensive jewelry or sexual favors?"
"Sexual favors? Come on, Micayla! Who on this entire station would anyone want to have sex with? The Norludians? I'm the only Vessonian that I know of, and even if there were others... well, maybe I'm just too choosy--I mean, the Terrans aren't bad looking as a species, but most of the single ones on the station seem kinda skuzzy, except maybe that one guy you work with, but--"
"Oh, crap!"
"What?"
"Look," Micayla said, pointing.
Shouldering his way through the crowd ahead of them was Rutger Grekkor, his shining blond hair in sharp contrast with the unkempt locks of those surrounding him.
"How the hell did he do that?" Micayla demanded as the two women turned tail and started running again, which was difficult because the place was crowded with some of the most disreputable-looking creatures Micayla had ever seen in her life. Windura hadn't been kidding about it being a good place to avoid.
"God only knows," Windura replied as she pushed past a smelly Cylopean.
"Did you see that gorilla with him?"
"You mean the Herpatronian?"
"Yeah, I guess." Micayla had never heard of the planet or the species and was beginning to wish she didn't know about them now.
"Didn't see him."
Micayla stopped short. "I do. There he is. Ahead of us."
"No, wait, there's a guard," Windura said. "Maybe--"
"Yes, I see him," Micayla said with a sinking feeling, "but something tells me he's not on our side." The tall, muscular Terran looked, if anything, even more forbidding than the gorilla. "Commander Beontal really has his work cut out for him, doesn't he?"
"You could say that," Grekkor said in Micayla's ear as she felt his arm grip her around the waist. The guard and the gorilla began to close in on them from the only other way out. "Don't make a sound or your friend dies."
Chapter 4
"What are you doing?" Micayla demanded as the two women were wrestled back toward the docking ring. "Where are you taking us?"
"I should have thought that was perfectly obvious," Grekkor said smoothly. "The slavers will soon be banned from this station--at least temporarily--but one of their ships is still docked here. You, my dears, are about to become their passengers."
"You'll never get away with this," Windura growled, struggling in the hold of Grekkor's gorilla.
"I'd rather die than be anyone's slave," Micayla said with an angry glare.
"That is easily arranged," Grekkor said. "No trouble at all, really. In fact, I believe I would enjoy watching you die. You are an abomination to this galaxy and should not be allowed to exist."
"And just what makes me such an abomination?" Micayla demanded.
Hatred flashed in his eyes, but he managed to control it enough to continue. "Your males," he spat out. "They are the most disgusting displays of carnal lust ever conceived."
"What's the matter?" Micayla taunted. "Have they got bigger balls than you?"
"They do not," Grekkor said, his voice cutting through her like a shard of ice. "For your information, I killed the one my wife consorted with. Slit his throat while she watched--and do you know what she did then?"
"Cut your balls off?" Micayla suggested sweetly. "It's what I would have done."
"Boy, you sure know how to placate the enemy, don't you?" Windura muttered.
"No!" Grekkor snarled. "She escaped from me and took the first ship she could find to go back to that cursed planet for another one!"
"Not very particular, was she?" Micayla said, adding, "But then, she did marry you."
Grekkor seemed to ignore this jibe, continuing on as though Micayla hadn't spoken, his eyes taking on a maniacal gleam. "I knew then that they all had to die. Other males couldn't compete. Theirs was a newly discovered world--no more than a few years on the star charts and relatively unknown--backward, too. Not possessing the capability for interstellar travel if it hadn't been handed to them. I had to act quickly, and I did. It was not difficult to recruit an army against them. They were a threat to men of every mammalian species."
"And to the drug trade," Windura said getting into the spirit. "I know some women in the brothels. You're talking about Zetithians, aren't you? Their penile secretions and semen act like drugs, triggering orgasms and euphoria in females. Let them spread across the galaxy and they could easily eliminate half of your drug sales--maybe even some of the legal ones--and even more if it affected males."
Sneering at the Vessonian woman, Grekkor got right in her face and spoke very deliberately, enunciating each emphatic word. "I do not sell illegal drugs."
"No, you probably just take your cut of the profits from all of those who do," Windura countered.
"You know nothing!"
"Hey, if I'm going to die or become a slave, it doesn't matter what I know, does it?"
Micayla felt the man holding her shift slightly and waited for the opportunity. If one of them could escape and sound the alarm...
"You there!" the Norludian shouted as he rounded the corner. "No shooting in the station! You spilled an entire shipment of Essence Preservative! You will have to pay for that!"
"Now!" Micayla shouted, stomping down hard on the Terran guard's foot as she elbowed him in the throat. Spinning on one foot, she slammed the other foot upside the Herpatronian's head and then kicked Grekkor in the groin.
"Come on!" Micayla yelled as she took off running.
"Not that way!" Windura protested. "It just circles around. All they have to do is wait for us."
They both began to stagger as a strong vibration hummed through the ring. "What's that?"
"A ship firing up."
"Where?"
"There," Windura pointed as they raced toward the hatch.
Micayla hammered on the control panel, pushing every button there was. Suddenly, the hatch rolled back with a screech and they both jumped into the airlock. "This could be a very bad place in a minute when that ship leaves," she said as the hatch closed behind them.
"There's a force field on the airlock," Windura said, shaking her head. "We won't get sucked into space. If we're lucky, they'll think we've kept on running and might not find us for a while. That Norludian was pretty pissed too," she added before beginning to laugh uncontrollably.
"What's so damn funny?" Micayla demanded.
"That's what Essence Preservative is," she gasped as she wiped away tears of mirth. "It's their piss. They've probably been collecting that for months!"
Micayla couldn't help but laugh at the thought of their captors having slipped in a lake of urine. "I thought those guys smelled weird."
"They sure did," Windura agreed. "By the way, where the hell did you learn to do all of that self-defense stuff?"
"Martial arts training, courtesy of my stepmom," Micayla replied. "She thought it would help keep me safe--something she promised my real mother."
"Well, you're damn good at it," Windura said with unconcealed admiration. "Ever have to use it before?"
"Just on a few amorous boys from time to time. After a while, they decided it might be best to leave me alone."
"Did they teach you to antagonize the enemy like that?"
"Throws them off balance sometimes," Micayla said with a nod. "Other times it just makes things worse. I don't know--"
"Holy shit," Windura whispered as she peeked through the porthol
e. "They're coming this way!"
Micayla didn't hesitate and began pounding on the ship's hatch with all her might.
Just as Grekkor's face appeared in the porthole, the hatch opened with a hiss and they both tumbled inside to land at the feet of a male Scorillian.
"Close the goddamn hatch, Hidar!" someone called out from beyond the huge insect. "What are you trying to do--get us all killed?"
"But what will we do with these?" the Scorillian asked.
"These, what?" the other man demanded, coming closer.
Micayla looked up into the flashing black eyes of a tall, dark-haired Terran with a Ralayan rune tattooed above his left eye. "Well, would you look at what the bug let in," he said with a slow smile. "This trip might have been worth something after all."
Micayla's first thought was that, in spite of their escape, they'd managed to end up on the slave ship. "We are not slaves!" she said indignantly.
The man laughed. "Nobody said you were." The ship shuddered as it broke free of the force field and slowly rotated away from the dock. "Seems arms dealers are no longer welcome at Orleon, so we're heading back into the Andromeda quadrant. Hope you girls remembered to bring along your spare undies."
"Can I fuck them?" the Scorillian asked eagerly. "They are stowaways and must pay for their passage. I'm allowed to fuck stowaways, right?"
Micayla felt all the blood drain out of her face as she looked up at the tall, green Scorillian who was now eagerly rubbing his barbed forearms together like a gigantic praying mantis.
"Naw, we'll let Trag fuck them," the tattooed man said. "We'll have less trouble with them that way."
Micayla felt her feeling of faintness give way to nausea. She had no idea who or what "Trag" was, but she had no intention of letting him anywhere near her. "I don't intend to let anyone fuck me."
"We'll see about that," he said as his long, leonine tail snaked out from beneath his robes.
"He can fuck with his dick and his tail," the Scorillian cackled with apparent delight. "Both of you at the same time."
"Damn!" Windura said, speaking up for the first time. "I've heard about you. Lerotan Kanotay, right?"
"You have the advantage over me," the Terran said. "You are...?"
"Windura Rhidal," she replied. "Orleon's computer specialist."
"I see," he said with a raised brow. "And just where did you hear about me?"
"From the hookers," Windura said. "You're a Terran/Xuerreldian cross, aren't you?"
"And if I am?" he said ominously.
"Nothing," Windura muttered, looking away quickly. "Just wanted to verify that."
Lerotan came closer, peering down at the two women sprawled on the floor of his ship. "What about you? Vessonian?"
Windura nodded. "And this is Micayla Johnson," she added, gesturing toward her companion. "She's the new communications officer."
"Officer?" Lerotan echoed. "Does that mean I should give up my quarters for her?"
The Scorillian cackled again. "Let me have them, Captain! I will keep them in my quarters. I will take good care of them. I need some females."
"Shut up, Hidar," Lerotan said absently. "I wouldn't give them to you even if they were slaves."
Micayla was momentarily heartened by this but paled again at the thought of being at the mercy of a male with two cocks, which would undoubtedly double her displeasure.
"Why did you jump on my ship if you both work on the station?" Lerotan asked.
"I--I'd rather not say just yet," Windura replied. "Not until I'm sure whose side you'd be on."
"Fair enough," Lerotan said with a shrug. "But I warn you, my men are, shall we say, a bit rough."
"Meaning we should stick with you instead of the crew?"
"Exactly," Lerotan said. Holding out a hand, he took Windura's and pulled her to her feet. When he reached down to do the same for Micayla, he froze. "Who did you say this was?"
"Micayla Johnson," Windura repeated. "She's from Earth, but I'm pretty sure she's--"
"Zetithian," Lerotan whispered as Micayla rose from the floor.
"You know about them?" Windura asked with surprise.
"You could say that," Lerotan replied. "Did you know there's a bounty on them? The Nedwuts are collecting five million credits for each male."
"And--and the females?" Windura stammered.
Lerotan grinned. "They're worth nothing to anyone but a male Zetithian."
Windura breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Then you won't turn us in."
"You'd make good bait for a male, though," Lerotan mused, looking Micayla up and down. "I could catch plenty of them with a beautiful specimen like you. One whiff of your desire and they'd come running. I could make millions."
Micayla swallowed hard as she regarded him. "I don't think I'd be any help to you in that respect."
"No?" Lerotan said. "You might be surprised." Turning to the Scorillian, he said, "Hey, Hidar, do me a favor and go get Trag."
Hidar's mandibles clicked sharply as though he resented being used as a messenger boy, but he went anyway, returning a few moments later, followed by a man wrapped in a heavy cloak. His long black hair hung to his waist and he was not happy.
"Couldn't you at least let me get the course set before sending Hidar to drag me off?" he complained. "What the devil do you want?"
"Just wanted you to see this," Lerotan said, stepping aside. "What do you think?"
Micayla's reaction was immediate and instinctive. Drawing back with a snarl, she let out a loud hiss.
The one called Trag stared at her in dismay. "Great Mother of the Desert!" he exclaimed. "That's just fuckin' great, Leroy. You finally find me a Zetithian girl and she turns out to be a hissing, spitting bitch!"
Chapter 5
Micayla was mortified. In all her born days she'd never hissed at anyone, and now, here she was, snarling at a complete stranger on sight--and to make matters worse, it was him! Windura was looking at her as though she might bite too.
"Sorry," she muttered. "Don't know why I did that." She stole another glance at Trag and fought the urge to hiss again.
"Trag, this lovely young lady is Micayla Johnson," Lerotan said with a chuckle. "Should have known it wouldn't be that simple."
"No shit," Trag said. "I never expected it to be easy, but--"
"And this is Tragonathon Vladatonsk," Lerotan said to Micayla.
This information didn't immediately register with Micayla, but it did with Windura. "No kidding?" she squealed. "Tycharian's brother?"
"In the flesh," Lerotan replied.
"Wow!" Windura began to say something else but was cut off by Trag.
"Don't do that!" Trag exclaimed, giving his hair a yank. "I'm not just his brother. I'm a person too, you know!"
"Now, Trag," Lerotan soothed. "We all know that--but she did ask. No need for you to get so upset."
Trag shot a glowering look at Lerotan and growled. "I'm not upset, I'm just sick to death of being referred to as Old Blue Eyes's brother all the time!"
"Did I call you that?" Lerotan chided.
"Well, no, but--"
"I don't think you need to worry about standing in your brother's shadow," Windura said. "From what I've heard, you've got a few claims to fame of your own."
"Layha been talking to you?" Trag said with a wince.
"In a manner of speaking," Windura replied, licking her lips. "I heard it all."
Trag groaned and tugged his hair again, this time spearing his fingers through it near the scalp as though trying to pull it out by the roots. Micayla wondered how he managed to keep from going bald.
Lerotan shook his head sadly. "The guy's got a famous brother, a dick that's the most lethal weapon for light-years around, he's piloting a starship after being a slave for twenty years, and he's still not happy." Throwing up his hands in a gesture of futility, he added, "I don't know what to do with him."
"Maybe he just needs to find the right girl," Windura suggested. "I'd be happy to audition."
&n
bsp; Micayla whipped around to glare at her friend. Windura, who claimed to have no interest in any of the men stationed on Orleon, was now coming on to the one man Micayla had been anxious to meet. Granted, she'd hissed at him, but even so, it showed a decided lack of camaraderie.
Trag dropped his head and let out a sob of frustration. "I get that wherever I go, too," he muttered.
"Sorry," Windura said with a shrug. "I figured it wouldn't hurt to try."
Trag combed his hair back with his fingers but didn't pull on it this time. "I'm sorry too. There was a time when I'd have given anything to hear a woman say that, but now--"
"He's holding out for a nice Zetithian girl," Lerotan explained.
Trag sighed deeply. "Yeah, and what's the first thing she does? She hisses at me. Guess I'll just go back and fly the fuckin' ship." With that parting shot, he turned on his heel and left.
Micayla stared at his retreating figure, again feeling an overpowering urge to run after him, but her feet refused to move. All she could think was Oh, my God! It's him , and I freakin' hissed at him!
"Ladies," Lerotan said with a sweeping gesture. "Allow me to escort you to the bridge."
"Blew that one, didn't you?" Windura observed dryly as they followed Lerotan down the passageway.
Micayla's gaze was focused on Lerotan's tail, which danced behind him as though luring them into a trap. Hidar's lurking presence intensified the feeling. "I didn't mean to hiss at him," she protested. "It just... popped out."
"You could have at least talked to him," Windura went on. "I mean, he's one of your own people--not to mention the handsomest man I've ever seen in my life. Come on, girl! Get a grip!"
"It's been a very odd day." Micayla sighed. "I find out what I am, find a man who's like me, and also find out who tried to exterminate my people. How am I supposed to act?"
"Uh, what was that last bit?" Lerotan inquired, pausing to look back at them.
"You mean the part about the exterminator?"
"Yeah," he replied. "That part. Anyone we know?"
Windura nodded. "You've probably heard of him," she replied. "Name's Rutger Grekkor--a Terran, I think."
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