The Xandra (Book 1): Daughter of the Dark

by Herbert Grosshans

  “You are not Orona!” he almost screamed.

  “I can be anything you want me to be.”

  He stared into the icy blue eyes of Nurse Mabel, her blond hair longer than he remembered. It covered her large breasts, only the nipples poked through. She looked the way he would have liked her to look.

  Her hips moved furiously in his lap, he cried out as a forceful climax gripped him.

  “You see,” she said when he finished, “it doesn’t matter what I am. You do love me.”

  “I don’t love you. You are an alien. I don’t believe you know what love is. I love my wife. I love my daughters. In a way I also love Sister Angela and Orona, but I don’t love you.”

  The outlines of her body wavered again and changed.

  Then he looked into a pair of luminous, green eyes. Her long hair was flaming red, it moved as if it had a life of its own. “I know your deepest inner thoughts now,” she said. “You and I are one.”

  “Let me go,” he pleaded. “I want to be with my own people, with my wife.”

  She slid off, kneeled beside him. “Go,” she said. “I will walk with you.”

  He jumped into the water, not waiting for her, and waded toward shore. The clearing looked deserted, the alien girls and the tree-elves were gone. Overhead, only the red moon shined, its pale red light throwing dark shadows among the tall trees. Reaching the shore, he climbed out of the water. He walked without looking back.

  A dull, sudden pain gripping his bowels, like a weight pulling on his anus, brought him to a halt. His hand went between his legs, what he encountered made him curse with anger and frustration.

  A strand of thin, but extremely strong fibers grew from between his buttocks.

  “What have you done?” he shouted hoarsely, turning to the alien woman, who stood beside him now.

  “You and I are forever joined,” she said. “I can give you eternal life.”

  “This is not living,” he groaned. “I am your prisoner.”

  “Give it some time. Soon you will get used to it and you will realize that you are not living in a prison. As our systems integrate, we will be two separate minds living in one body and you have no idea how vast this body is. I am everywhere. You will be everywhere.”

  “How can I be everywhere?” he shouted. “A rope coming out of my ass ties me to you.” He dug his fingers into her shoulders. “You are not even real! What are you? This is not your body.”

  She smiled and pointed toward the huge plant in the pond. “That is my body,” she said, “and so is every water lily on this planet.”

  “But they are separate plants,” Tom protested.

  “They are, but I am in each one of them. If you would destroy one, it wouldn’t matter. I cannot be destroyed. I am forever. I was born from darkness and became the Mother of Light. I am the Xandra.” She stepped closer, kissing him on the lips. “You and I, we will populate this planet with a new species. It will be superior to my daughters and to the humans. You and I will be worshipped as gods. We will be gods.” She took his hand. “Come, and I will make you happy. We can make love without ever stopping.”

  “Love?” He laughed hysterically. “What do you know about love? If you think that copulating all day long is making love, you know nothing. What I feel for my wife and my daughters, that is love. I love my parents, my brother and my sisters. That has nothing to do with sex.”

  “What about Sister Angela or Orona? You said you loved them also. Are you saying that is not so?”

  “They attract me sexually, and maybe I feel even a certain love for them, how should I know?”

  Tom felt a ghostly finger touch his mind.

  “I don’t understand that concept of Love,” she said slowly. “I see it in your mind, but I don’t understand it.”

  “It is an abstract idea,” Tom said, “you either love or you don’t. It is the opposite of hate. It is a feeling. I cannot explain it.”

  “Maybe if I look like your wife or your daughter, could you learn to love me? I can be any woman you want me to be.”

  Shaking his head, he looked into her large alien eyes. “Whatever form you take,” he said, “I will know that it is just an illusion.”

  “I can make you forget that,” she said, almost tenderly.

  “No, I won’t let you mess with my mind.” He grasped the strands of fibers attached to him and tried to pull them out of his body, but cried out as sharp pain shot through his belly.

  “Come,” she said gently. Again, he felt that ghostly touch, like a feather, brushing across his thoughts.

  “All right,” he said, letting her pull him back to the giant flower.

  They stretched out among the petals, she held him in her arms. “Sleep now, my darling,” she whispered. “When you awake you will think differently.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Captain’s Log

  September 2, 2985

  Last night I saw my wife. I know it is impossible, but she was there. In the park.

  I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately.

  I was standing at the edge of the pond, staring at the water lily, when I felt a gentle tab on my shoulder. I turned, and there she was, smiling at me. She looked just like I remembered her, lovely and full of soft curves. Her naked breasts were round and solid, a trifle larger than I remembered; her belly was flat, and her black pubic hair shaved into the shape of a heart, just like the way she used to do it.

  “Hello, Jeremy,” she said with that gentle voice of hers. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Forty years,” I said and stared at her, dumbfounded.

  She put her arms around me, kissed me. She tasted of sweet honey.

  My mind was numb. I couldn’t think straight. Part of me wanted to push her away. I knew it couldn’t really be her, but I had been missing her so much. When she pulled me to the ground, I made love to her right there beside the pond. We kissed, I swallowed the sweet nectar that flowed from her mouth. It gave me strength, endurance. How long we made love I don’t know, but it must have been over an hour.

  She was passionate, tender, and her body felt soft and yielding. When I climaxed inside her, it came with such force I thought my penis would explode. I don’t remember ever experiencing an orgasm of that magnitude.

  I fell asleep in her arms. When I awoke, she was gone.

  I couldn’t sleep anymore, so I went up to the observation deck to look at the planet below. It seemed to be calling to me. I could feel the pull inside my head.

  Later I went back to my quarters and fell asleep on the couch.

  When the lights came back on in the simulated morning, I wasn’t sure if it happened or if I dreamed the whole thing.

  Maybe I did.

  But it seemed so real.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Exploration Team Delta

  Sara Golman took the young alien boy into her protective care, and he seemed to feel safe with her. Maybe it was because of her dark large eyes. Striker didn’t know.

  She named him Adam, and he accepted that name. He talked a lot in his alien, strange language and became frustrated when he wasn’t understood.

  “Tree,” Sara said and pointed.

  “Tree,” he repeated, and smiled when she clapped her hands.

  “Very good, Adam.” She lifted a finger. “One tree,” then she held up her hand. “Five trees.”

  “Five trees,” he said.

  “Excellent.” She made a sweeping gesture. “Forest.”

  He looked at her with his huge purple eyes, shook his head and said, “Selura.”

  “Selura?” Sara laughed. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re saying.”

  Adam looked at Striker who sat on a rock, his laser across his knees. He pointed at the weapon, touched his lips and blew air from his mouth. “Bluva,” he said, his face grave, then he lay down on the ground, closed his eyes. Sitting up again, he stared at Striker.

  The Lieutenant smiled grimly. “I have a feeling you know what thi
s is.” He touched the weapon and said, “This is Death.”

  “Death.” Adam repeated it slowly, nodded. “Death.”

  Striker looked toward the lake, watched a flock of large gray birds circling above the water. One of them dove down, claws outstretched, broke the dive at the last moment and rose again, an eel-like victim wriggling in its claws.

  Sara followed his gaze. “We should give some serious thought to our own food situation,” she said.

  “I know. Gregorchuck has been studying the sea-creatures. He says they’re safe to eat.” Striker looked at Adam. “I’ve seen him pick and eat berries the other day. His metabolism isn’t much different from ours.”

  Sara laughed. “He offered me some. I declined. I think he felt offended, but I didn’t want to take a chance.”

  “We’ll discuss the food situation tonight; maybe tomorrow we will dine on real meat.” Striker rose, stretched his legs. “I’m going to check on the construction crew. Remember, stay close to the beach, and don’t wander away. Same goes for him.”

  He walked to where Chu was standing guard. The pilot nodded as Striker approached.

  “How goes?” Striker asked.

  “All’s quiet.” Chu cast a glance at the forest. “A family of Monkeys came nosing around for awhile this morning. I counted nineteen who ventured out into the open, but they left again.”

  “I don’t think we have to worry about them,” Striker said. “So far they’ve never bothered us. Keep your eyes open.” He was heading for the site where most of the men and women were trying to erect a permanent shelter for the coming winter, when a short, paunchy man stopped him. Asham Sirski, the meteorologist.

  “May I have a word?”

  Striker nodded, surprised by the other man’s agitation. “Problems?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m not an expert when it comes to building structures, but I know weather and weather patterns. Back on the station, I’ve studied the first survey reports. It was winter then on this planet, most of the reports were sketchy, since all of the pictures and readings were taken from space. The recent studies came from Professor Tennenboum’s team, but they only reported local conditions.”

  “I’m somewhat familiar with those reports,” Striker said.

  “Somewhat familiar.” Sirski took a deep breath, his teeth gleamed white in his dark face. “That’s the problem with you brass. You seem to know everything, yet, you lack detailed information.”

  “We have experts for that. Experts like you.” Striker smiled. “Come to the point, Sirski.”

  “The point is…we will never survive in that flimsy building they are constructing. We’ll be buried alive under three meters of snow in the first month of winter. And if by some miracle we should make it till spring, the level of the lake will rise, flooding us out.”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  Sirski shrugged. “We could maybe move into the ancient town. Its elevation is much higher than our camp. There probably is a reason why the ancient builders chose that place. Some of the buildings have strong walls that can withstand the brutal winter storms, and believe me, they will be brutal and ferocious. The walls will also insulate us from the bitter cold. I’ve seen one building with a still functioning fireplace and a roof that is almost intact. It wouldn’t take much to make it livable. You should talk to Professor Findlay, he spends all his time up there. By now he should know every building and its condition.”

  “You’ve given this some thought, haven’t you?” Striker studied the short man and wondered why they never talked before. Sirski usually stayed in the background, didn’t talk much with anyone.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to undermine your authority, Lieutenant, but this is a very important issue. Our lives are at stake here, and I don’t want to die on this planet. I’ll try my best to survive. When you decided that we should leave the security of the shuttle you made a judgment call, most of us went along with it.” Sirski fidgeted. “This time I think you should take it to a vote. It should not be left for you to decide.”

  “I’ll bring it up tonight. There are a few other items we all need to discuss.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Sirski looked visibly relieved. “If you want me to, I am willing to explain it to the others.”

  “Sure, that might be helpful.” Striker began to walk away. He stopped, looked back. “I appreciate your suggestion, Sirski. I am as concerned with our survival as you are.”

  A few of the men were just trying to fit a heavy log into place when Striker walked up to them. Three of the walls were almost high enough. One side of the large square building was still open. This would be the wall with the entrance and a couple of windows. None of the men had ever worked or even been on a construction site. The only one with some experience was Kendrick, but he had designed structures made out of steel and glass, not wood.

  “Are you coming to give us a hand, Striker?” Remington put down the laser he was using to trim one of the logs, rubbed his hands on his trousers. “Or is it against the rules for military people to do manual labor?”

  “If there are such rules, I’ve never followed them,” Striker said, trying to keep his voice level and cool. The man kept rubbing him the wrong way, and it was not easy to stay calm in his presence. “Maybe you should all take a break, something has been brought to my attention and I’m calling a meeting for tonight.”

  “Bad news?” asked Monaca. She and Tamara Mogatas were just coming out of the forest, carrying a long, heavy log on their shoulders. Lowering her end onto the ground, Tamara stretched and rolled her neck.

  “Whatever it is, it can’t be much worse than this. Having the afternoon off will give me a chance to carry on with my studies. I’ve discovered some interesting beetle larvae on those trees.”

  “I’m going for a swim,” announced Monaca and looked at Breanna, who was still busy stuffing moss into the cracks where the rough tree trunks joined. She looked up from her work. “I’ll join you a little later. All right?”

  “I’ll come with you. I feel all sweaty and grimy. This is not my kind of work.” Andrea Liss did a few limbering exercises. Striker noticed some of the men watching her and he couldn’t blame them. She had taken off her top, and even though her breasts were not large, they were well formed and the rest of her body was trim. A pleasure to look at. And she didn’t mind displaying it.

  “A swim sounds good to me,” said Fried Kramer. It was no secret that he had taken an interest in Andrea Liss. He wasn’t the only one. Striker noticed Herm Woolf spending more time than necessary in the company of the good doctor.

  “Do whatever you want. I want to see everybody tonight, after supper.” He turned and walked away.

  One of the other women, Melina Mohawk, a dark-haired thin woman with a broad, flat nose and thick lips, followed him, and grabbed his arm. “Well, Lieutenant, we haven’t had much of a chance to sit down and talk, you’ve been brushing me off. Do you think this afternoon would be a good time?”

  Striker looked into her brown eyes. She gave him a broad smile. He knew what she wanted. “I’m busy,” he said and walked on.

  She laughed. “You’re always busy, sticking it into Breanna, the green-eyed goddess.”

  He stopped, stared at her. “There are plenty of other men, Melina. What’s your obsession with me?”

  “I find you attractive, and I am horny. I need a man, but not any man. I want you. Am I that ugly to look at?”

  “I don’t think you’re ugly. Like I said, there are others. Have you asked any of them?”

  Her laughter was mocking. “Others? Now let’s see, there is Raymond Chu. He is not my type, his eyes are shaped the wrong way. Maybe some day I’ll explain what I mean. Then there are Professor Banca, Professor Findlay, and Ewor Gregorchuck. Every one of them is too busy with their studies. Remington is not a man I want to ever find between my legs, and neither is Ashim Sirski. You’ve seen the way Woolf, Kramer, and Kendrick drool all over ‘Smoldering Eyes’
Dr. Andrea Liss. That leaves Marcel Girard and you, Poul. In fact, only you, because Marcel has no interest in women. He told me so. He prefers men.”

  It was Striker’s turn to laugh. “I like the way you worked it all out. Not very flattering, actually.”

  “I am a very passionate woman, Poul. What does Breanna give you that I couldn’t? You’d never know the difference in the dark. My breasts are large, my vagina tight and soft. I’m easily aroused. What else do you want?”

  “How about love, Melina?” Striker smiled.

  “I can give you that. In time.” Her fingers dug into his biceps, almost hurtful. “Does Breanna love you?”

  They arrived beside the cluster of tents. Striker sat down on the bench someone built from rocks and branches. He looked up at the woman, who stared at him out of large brown eyes. It wasn’t that he found her unattractive. She looked pretty enough, but his commitment was to Breanna, and he never cheated on any of the women he became involved with. There had only been two, but that didn’t matter.

  He admitted, the thought of having sex with two different women did actually turn him on. “Have you talked with Breanna about how you feel?” he asked softly.

  “No, I haven’t. Should I?”

  “Maybe you should. Don’t tell her I suggested it.” What the hell was he saying? What was he thinking? He got to his feet. “Maybe we should forget this conversation ever took place.”

  She smiled. “I understand.” She touched his hand. “I’m joining the others for a swim. Want to come?”

  “I have things to do. Maybe later.”

  She turned and ran toward the water. He watched her take off her clothes. She did actually have a finely formed body, not hard to look at.

  “What was all that about?”

  Striker turned to look at Breanna, who came out of one of the tents. She was naked, looking extremely attractive to him, even though dark streaks of perspiration and dirt ran down between her full breasts, and her red hair was hanging in a tangled mess.