Their mutation had one other effect. The Lacertans found that if they did not periodically bathe or swim in those lakes containing the highest concentration of Draconite, they were prone to a degenerative illness. The disease would cause progressive lesions of the skin and breakdown of muscle tissue and organs from a rapid deterioration of their genes, with life-threatening results. Thus, at many times in a Lacertan’s life, a swim in one of those lakes or streams was essential, and those who lived on other planets traveled home to return to the life-renewing waters.
As a Knight of Lacerta, Thrax was responsible for returning home for his gene-rejuvenating swim before any symptoms ever showed. As he did every other duty, he took it seriously.
As much as Thrax loved patrolling other planets in the line of his duty, he loved coming home. Returning to Lacerta meant flying through its skies once more, feeling its winds caress his scales and his wings, swooping and diving over its towers and its forests, and skimming and diving into its lakes. It meant bonding with his brother Knights. It meant sleeping with Lacerta’s females, or with comely humans who expressed an interest (as they always did).
He only wished he could spend a little more time on the planet of his birth. But there were reasons he made himself scarce on Lacerta, and he expected to make this as short a visit as he possibly could, the better to evade the one duty for which he had no love…
And no sooner had the thought entered his mind than his badge chimed, as if on cue.
Thrax had shut off the comm link on his badge, hoping to travel as incommunicado as possible. All that he wanted was to make it home, take his renewal swim, perhaps find a bedmate, and be back in space in as little time as it took to tell the tale. He had feared his hope was for naught—and hearing the chime of his badge, he feared he was right.
With a sigh, he picked up the badge and pressed his thumb into the surface. The edges of the badge lit up, and a cordial voice that he recognized as belonging to the cruiser’s female human comm officer (whom he would not have minded having as the aforementioned bedmate) announced, “Sir Thrax, inbound communication from Lacerta. Priority Level.”
Thrax sighed again, knowing who it must be. If they could not page him directly, of course they would check the passenger manifests of all inbound cruisers and hail his ship. “Very well, put them through.”
A hologram flickered into view in front of him. The face of the party hailing him was male, older than Thrax by about twenty years, handsome but gaunt, with strands of gray mixed in with his sandy hair. “Sir Thrax,” the man said, “welcome home in advance.”
“Thank you, Mentor,” said Thrax, acknowledging one of the trainers and delegators who taught the Knights and gave them their marching—or flying—orders. The Mentor’s armor skin was of all four colors, distinguishing him as one of the highest-raking Knights. “I hadn’t planned on staying long. Just long enough to have my needed swim in Lake Shimmershine and be back in space in a couple of days.”
“Sir Thrax,” said the Mentor, “we’ll be requiring you to extend your stay this time. I’m sure you know the reason.”
In deference to the Mentor and out of respect for the older man’s position, Thrax stifled his reaction, else he would have rolled his eyes and groaned in protest. “Mentor,” he said, “I’m sure I’ll be of much better use just getting directly back to regular duty once I’ve finished reinvigorating myself. I’ve already scheduled my flight out from Lacerta and…”
The Mentor politely but firmly cut him off. “Cancel your flight, Sir Thrax. We’ll need you to stay, take part in the Lottery, and proceed from there. We’ve already entered your code into the system. You’ll have time before your visit to Lake Shimmershine to report to the local Stadium.”
“Mentor,” Thrax pressed, “I’d like to invoke my Deferment privileges.”
“Your Deferment privileges have already been extended as many times as permitted, Sir Thrax,” said the Mentor. “The only reason we haven’t summoned you to the Lottery before now, as you well know, is that your duty supersedes the Lottery until you return home for your rejuvenation. Now that you’re coming home for that, you’re expected to report and be matched.”
At last, an edge of protest did come into Thrax’s voice. “Mentor, please. There is no lack of able-bodied dragons on Lacerta. The gene pool is always well stocked. And as a Knight, my first and best service is out there, doing as I was trained to do. I love serving, Mentor. Please don’t ask me…”
And the Mentor cut him off again. “I know very well how you love to serve. You are the pride of the Knighthood, Thrax, exemplary in every way. But we cannot exempt any heterosexual citizen from participating in the Lottery and what that participation entails. Our own planet and our own people need you as much as the other planets you serve. We cannot spare our best and brightest. You must join the Lottery. Those are your orders, and you will be expected. Is that understood?”
Thrax slumped his shoulders in a most un-Knightly manner and said in a weary and resigned voice, “Yes, Mentor.” And he could not keep the heaviness of his heart out of his tone when he said, “I’ll be there at the appointed time, as required.”
“Very good, Sir Thrax,” said the Mentor. “We have every belief you will acquit yourself well in the days to come. Lacerta looks forward to welcoming the issue of your service. Spires out.” And with that, the hologram of the Mentor shimmered away, leaving Thrax in silence once more.
Thrax’s groan broke the silence as he leaned back his head mournfully. “Bane and damn,” he cursed. “Why me?”
The question was futile. It was always going to be Thrax, sooner or later. It was only that he had done everything to make it later, and now his supply of “later” was exhausted. There would be no more “later.” There would be only now.
“Now” meant submitting himself to the duty from which no dragon man or woman on Lacerta, whether Knight, Corps, or civilian, was exempt as long as he or she was capable of mating with the opposite sex. Allowances were made for same-sex-attracted citizens only. There was one other critical effect of their Draconite mutation, one that meant the difference between the stagnation and eventual failure or continued robustness of the colony. Lacertans were able to breed with each other, but their population growth and rate of viable pregnancies was slow and sporadic.
It threatened to make their economy, their very world, unsustainable. They bred much more reliably and consistently with “pure” humans who lacked the dragon-shifting mutation. And so, on a regular basis, humans from Earth and its other colonies were invited to Lacerta to be paired in Lotteries with dragon males and females. Once the selections of couples were made, the courtship followed.
Marriage and procreation were not mandatory; it was not a state of reproductive slavery. But Lacerta did everything to encourage the production of offspring in the Lotteries for the survival of the civilization that they had hewn out of the planet.
Thrax had never cared for the idea of the Lotteries. He understood what they meant to his world, but to him, they stood for certain principles that he deplored. In his heart, he knew that he was not meant for the kind of life that would follow a “successful” courtship. It meant giving up a life that he loved for something he did not want. Thrax’s true calling was to be out there in space, traveling to distant worlds, protecting and serving, bringing wrongdoers to heel, administering justice for those victimized and wronged, and helping those in need. That, he had believed for all his life, was what he was meant to do. A Knight was what he was meant to be.
He had done everything to postpone his entrance into the Lottery. Let someone else be responsible for maintaining the population. Thrax’s place was to maintain the peace.
But there was no escaping it anymore. The Lottery was upon him, and with it, the possibility of the end of his life as he knew it.
“Bane and damn,” he repeated bitterly.
_______________
Of course, there were reasons why the Lacertan Courting Lottery was
done in the way that it was. And of course, they were considered entirely valid and legitimate reasons. But that did not make the whole business any more palatable to Thrax.
The Silverwing Stadium was one of the largest sporting places on Lacerta. It was built in the shape of an immense geode, whose bowl held seating for thousands of people, or beings as the case may be. When it was not used for games and tournaments, however, it was one of the venues across the planet where the Courting Lotteries were held.
The Lotteries were almost as well attended as the sporting events. For the Lottery, two structures were erected in the center of the playing field: a stage and a platform, with a bridge constructed between them. On the stage stood the prospective suitors and suitresses, waiting to be paired by computer selection with aspirants from Lacerta and other planets across human space.
There was a separate, preliminary Lottery in which men and women interested in courting a Lacertan entered their names and genetic backgrounds. Once they were approved for selection, their data was entered into the Lottery computer system along with the stored genetic data of Lacertans selected to participate. Then, aspirants, suitors, and suitresses assembled at the final Lottery to be matched by computer and presented to each other—and to the entire planet and the galaxy beyond—for courtship.
The dozen Lacertans gathered on the stage were all Knights and members of the Corps, Thrax among them. They all stood in uniform, looking strong and proud and handsome and beautiful, under the anxious gaze of thousands of attendees and the clamor and hubbub they made from the seats.
The Lotteries for courtship with the Knights and Corps members always attracted the largest number of spectators, for the Lacertans who patrolled the planet and the galaxy beyond were held to be the most desirable dragon men and women of all -- the finest, most spectacular specimens of dragon-morphing masculinity and femininity. They were the best of the best, the most sought-after of their world.
Thrax turned and looked over the heads and shoulders of the comrades standing with them. What a throng they were, occupying the tiers of seats surrounding the playing field. They were mostly human and Lacertan, but there were also curiosity seekers of other species. Hovering and swooping overhead, across the playing field and the stadium seats, were the gleaming recorder drones that captured and transmitted the event across the planet and into space beyond. The glow and flashing of their lights made them seem like a vast miniature star system made of hundreds of satellites. With them processing and disseminating the Lottery, no one would miss a moment of what was about to unfold.
Such was the constant hubbub of the crowd that Thrax could not have heard his own voice if he had chosen to speak up, nor the voices of any of the ones with him on the stage. If he could talk to them, he would ask them whether they felt as he did. Do you feel like a prize being auctioned off? Do you feel as if you were livestock being presented for sale to the highest bidder? Do you feel as if you were a side of meat hung on a hook, being held up for consumption by some hungry patron?
That is the way this thing makes me feel. For so many years, I’ve dreaded this day. I’ve done everything to postpone it, to hold it at bay. I’ve been a stranger to my planet, to my home. And I’ve done it in the name of service and duty, which I love. It isn’t selfishness; my heart is in being a Knight and the feeling of pride in helping and protecting others. I’d lay down my life for my world or for any defenseless being. It’s what I’ve wanted to do ever since I first saw a Knight, strong and proud and brave, wielding his blade for justice. Even as a boy, I looked forward to the day when I would join these ranks.
But this thing…this has always left a cold place in my heart. Why do we do this? Why does our world sanction this, and why do we submit to it, and even celebrate it? We are men and women and dragons, not beasts for auction. Why do we do it?
The reasons for it were well known. Everyone knew in what small numbers the Lacertans bred without benefit of the Lotteries. And the civilized galaxy also knew what else this planet had to offer besides the most fabulous of all potential mates. The mutagenic mineral Draconite was not the planet’s only extraordinary property.
Lacerta was also rich with one of the rarest elements in space. Odysseum in its natural state was mildly radioactive. But under particle bombardment, it underwent a miraculous change, becoming unstable not only in mass but in space and time.
Odysseum was a uniquely powerful energy source for interstellar travel, and any planet possessing it in abundance was of strategic importance to Earth and all of its territories and allies. The Lacertan Courting Lotteries were not only a lavish mating display. They were a statement to all the known galaxy that this planet, while its population growth was the smallest and slowest among civilized worlds, was still strong and robust and not an easy target.
And the Lotteries of the Knights and Corps in particular were a signal to the outside galaxy that Lacerta was prepared to build and maintain its strength against all comers. Provoke a dragon and prepare to be shredded.
Thrax turned his attention across the bridge to the platform, beyond which lay a section of boxed seating where the prospective partners waited. He looked at the people in those seats. This spectacle would go on all day until those seats were emptied and all those people were paired off with Lacertan males and females. And the Lacertans would be brought up twelve or thirteen at a time to be presented for pairing.
Some of his fellow Lacertans actually welcomed this process. Some of them did not see it at all in the way Thrax did. For them, it represented easily obtained and abundant sex without any of the rituals and protocols otherwise necessary to get it. They would immediately go off with their selected partners and fall directly into bed.
If their exuberant copulating produced a child, they would marry or not, and if the dragon child was raised with a single parent, at least it would be another member of the population of Lacerta. That was an ironclad part of the agreement -- any child produced by a Lottery couple would be raised on Lacerta and add to its commonwealth, and the colonial economy was such that no one wanted for anything. It was seen as a beneficial arrangement for everyone concerned.
Some people saw the whole thing as a soulless affair, and some spoke out against it --for naught. The needs of the colony superseded all objections. Thrax himself had spoken up against it, but never publicly. A Knight voicing dissent against the policy would be seen as disloyal, dishonorable, and potentially derelict in his duties.
It would be a black mark against him, a sign of disgrace. Knights such as Thrax were not silenced or censured, and they held their place of honor in society—as long as they kept their dissent within the Knighthood and it went no further.
And so Sir Thrax Helmer, Knight of honor and distinction, held his silence and looked out into that mass of humans, some residents of Lacerta and others from outside planets, including Earth itself, wondering with which one of them his duty would demand that he change his whole life in service to his people.
Perhaps he would be fortunate. Perhaps he would be called upon to lie with some female in the hopes of conceiving and it would not happen. If, after a requisite period of time, no conception took place, both partners would be released from their obligation. In that event, Thrax would return to his right and proper life with no harm done, and he would never be called upon to serve himself up as a dragon stud again.
But the odds were against it.
Thrax’s heart was heavy. In all his life, the only thing he had ever loved as much as Knighthood was sex. Now, for the first time, the prospect of sex lay before him, and he did not necessarily welcome it. Sex was the only pleasure in his life that was not also a duty—until now.
In the seating box, Agena Morrow looked out across the bridge to the stage at the Knights and Corps members standing there, and she wondered which of the males would be chosen to be hers. Of the Knights before her, none wore fewer than two colors, and she spotted some wearing three. There was some prime material over there. As soon as
that thought entered her mind, she frowned a little bit.
As excited as she was at the prospect of lying with one of those males and trying to become pregnant with him, she reminded herself that they were not, after all, just prize bulls and stallions. They were people. They were men.
Yes—men. Some of the most gorgeous men that the Milky Way had to offer, with faces and bodies in which she could lose herself in rapture and bliss. It would be a rapture and bliss with a purpose other than pleasure, but then the pleasure would be beyond compare. As a champion Sphereball player and a celebrity who was considered one of the galaxy’s most attractive women, Agena was accustomed to having her pick of eminently desirable men with whom to bed down.
She had actually slept with a few Lacertan Knights in her travels. They had come directly to her, or she directly to them, and the sex was magnificent but otherwise unproductive: for a Knight of Lacerta was so bound to duty that upon assuming the Knighthood, he or she swore an oath of non-matrimony and underwent a reversible sterilization.
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