The Sarran Plague (The Sarrans Book 1)

by A. C. Katt

  Anya threw on a peach toga-type blouse of brushed silk edged with ivory satin ribbons. She attached a coral and mother-of-pearl cameo to her shoulder and slipped on a pair of ivory satin pants edged with the peach silk. Dainty ballerina flats in peach and ivory completed the ensemble. Just because she didn’t need the Princess Di wardrobe her lovers had provided, didn’t mean she couldn’t wear it. She twisted her hair atop her head, holding it with pearlized sticks topped by coral flowers. She found a pair of mabe pearl earrings that were just right for the outfit and with a quick slash of peach gloss, off she went.

  Anya had free rein of the ship and she wanted to explore. Jonal and Tonas were in conference in the StarRoom, Tigger was AWOL, and the only other person she knew on board, Mark, was in there with them. It was time to boldly go where blah blah. An apt metaphor, she thought. The fleet ships were refitted with universal signs adapted from common Earth usage. Unused to free time and having little responsibility, she studied the symbols. Assured she could find her way around without a problem, Anya left the quarters. As the command Star Cruiser of the both the Galactic and Sarran fleet, Brightstar was the size of a micropolitan city of 50,000, stuffed into two square miles of sardine can. The corridors reeked of art deco canoodling one of the French Louies, ornate and pre-fabbed. As Anya roamed, men gawked, but none approached her until she hit a corridor near the mess hall.

  She had presumed that the mess was quiet this time of day, just after breakfast but not quite time for lunch. She knew she was close by when a whiff of fresh brewed Jamaican Blue Mountain titillated her nose. A quick reverse to backtrack engaged Anya in a near on collision with a Sarran male. She pushed up against the sidewall to stabilize her position, leaving handprints on the calendared crenellations. Looking up, she targeted a face, and that triggered a connection. “Hey,” she called, “Aren’t you Mark’s Bane?”

  “No, I’m Flagen,” he retorted, “I belong to no Warrior. I’m Bane’s brother, his twin.” If anger were solar flares, his eyes shot power outages. She stepped back. Flagen’s lips distorted into a perversion of a smile and he herded her toward the java scent, riding her heel. Anya wasn’t cowed, but could distinguish between retreat and surrender. She chose the former and crooked her back to avoid contact with his shoulder. For an instant, Anya took solace in the surety that her mates were but a focus away.

  “Where are you taking me?” Anya demanded.

  “You wanted coffee. That is one aroma that every Earthen I’ve seen can follow straight to source. Without it you all have the look of a stomped bronc in a hails-out.”

  They entered a hall and Anya froze and gaped. She had seen pictures old automats but this was a Horn and Hardart on steroids. Disks heaped with obscure vegetation and Sarran viands, sat amid Mickey D’s, shrimp etouffee and egg foo yung, each encased in cubicles of gold and glass.

  It appeared the Washington sycophants had donated sundry take out menus and a dated set of Time-Life cookbooks to re-assemble Earthen cuisine for the women. The result was a mishmash of the freaky and the mundane, combinations guaranteed to be barfers. She snickered and wondered what Stern’s comments were on bureaucratic creativity.

  “Really,” She cocked her head. “With this selection, coffee’s the only sane alternative.” I must remember to speak to the boys. She cased the hall spying a spigot attached to a massive urn that appeared broad and rowdy enough to encase industrial waste, it looked about right. “This is the coffee?” she noted with Flagen still on her heels. She grabbed a large size tumbler of heatproof polymer and pulled the lever. Levers seemed to transcend culture. Basic humanoid mechanics endured, a snuggly thought. She looked to the left, Hello, little pink packets, and cream. She quickly prepared a cup and sipped.

  Flagen’s face morphed from impersonation of a serial killer to merely grim. “Your face is incandescent. This coffee, it’s a drug?”

  “Some believe it is. I prefer the word nectar myself.” Anya laughed, “Stomped bronc, huh, present company included?”

  “That requires some consideration. Do you go out in a hails-out sans a slicker or gear?”

  He actually cracked a smile. “I’ve been known to channel a submersed rat, or two.”

  “Is that a drowned rat or a ‘You dirty, rat?’ My translator does not pick up the elegance of your slang.”

  “But mine picks up the sting of your bite, or perhaps the goad of your prick,” Anya countered. “Do you shroud all your enmity in wit?”

  “Enmity? Why would you say that?”

  “You seem to bristle at all things Earthen.”

  “Maybe it’s but a penchant for things Sarran.”

  “Maybe,” she conceded. “What was it like?”

  “Mountains, valleys, desert, much like your Earth; but clean. Our sins against our cradle are long past. Tierest trees, brumble bush.” Flagen stopped. Anya watched him take a breath, “Paradise, home, as one of your poets cried, Nevermore.” He shifted his eyes from her sight.

  Anya impulsively reached for his hand, patted it awkwardly, then withdrew. “Yesterday is always Nevermore, Flagen.”

  He scrutinized her face and seemed to discover a fabled swan rather than the troll he anticipated. “You Bond the Prince of Light, little ember?” Flagen asked in an eerily tender tone.

  “He and Jonal, when the deed is ever done,” Anya replied in honesty.

  “Do you have distaste, for the LightClan Prince?”

  “No,” she asserted. “He’s magnificent, both gentle and kind. I’m in love with the galoot, and Jonal is…”

  “Jonal is Jonal,” Flagen finished her sentence for her, although Anya wasn’t sure that his interpretation resembled hers. “Maybe I will taste this coffee of yours while you tend to your second helping.” Flagen’s face was preternatural. His meter had jumped from violation to free game score faster than light speed. He was volatile and it turned her shaky. It was time for a graceful and quick exit line. She looked around for a fast and dirty excuse and seized on…deliverance.

  “Mark, over here. I’ve just met your…brother-in-law?” Anya reached for the right term.

  “Flagen.” Mark said his name with such crack and sizzle that Anya had to check for steam with his spit. Mark had not wowed the in-laws.

  “We were discussing Sarran and ca…co…coffee.” Darn, she hated when she stuttered and Mark knew she only did it when her nerves were fried.

  “I believe your Bonded are calling security.” Mark gently took her arm and eased her away from Flagen.

  “Security? What is it with these guys? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, haven’t you told them that on Earth we had a women’s movement. Sensitivity training is in order, and they need classes on gender issues. Geez Mark, can’t I ever get out of there?” Anya grumbled. “Most likely the cat threw up again. They keep on feeding him strange stuff.” She sighed once more, for effect, and scrambled to the corridor. I am sooooooo gone, out out out. Though I might have overplayed that one a tiny bit. She made her way back to their quarters.

  * * * *

  Mark watched Anya scurry through the arched entrance. It looked as if that nice little tail had been a bit singed. He decided to go back and find out what had yanked Flagen’s chain this time. “Slumming, Flagen? Xenophobia in lock down?” Mark’s eyebrow rose in a suggestion of derision.

  Flagen gave a classic Gallic shrug. Mark marveled at the interchangeable body language exhibited by both Sarran and Earthen. He was sure research would someday prove a common genetic source. He scowled at his brother-in-Bond, permitting his fury to show on his face. “If this is a jealous tantrum, you are engaged in a duel without a saber. Alligators look indolent in the sun, but they have teeth. They don’t eat often, but when they do, they swallow you whole.”

  “I found her wandering the corridors. I brought her to the mess.” Flagen adopted an innocent tone. So innocent it reeked of sarcasm and innuendo.

  “Anya belongs to Tonas and Jonal. Are you so bone-headed that you believe a wound delivered to Jonal or Any
a will not hurt Tonas? Can you be that obtuse?”

  “Earthen spit-scum, what do you know of Sarran Ways or Honor? You master my brother, you do not master me, and I wonder if you truly are his master,” Flagen sneered, “or his witless dupe, a thought for you to ponder, doctor.”

  Mark rose up off the chair and put his face into Flagen’s so that their noses almost touched. Mark spit out each word. “Listen, you mere excuse for an asshole, you stay out of my business, you stay out of Bane’s business, and you stay the fuck away from Anya whom I consider under my protection. If you can’t understand what I just said, may your Goddess help you. There will be nothing, and I mean nothing, to stop me from crushing your skull.”

  Flagen pulled up his arms and pushed against Mark’s chest, making him step back. Flagen braced into combat stance. “You water-scum Earthen deviant, they belong to me. The fem, Tonas…they always have. And now…I can lay claim to them. Even scum-suck like you cannot ignore Sarran law with impunity. You aspire to be Sarran, you dare claim to master a Warrior, you belly the sewer pipeage, Earthen.” Flagen kicked his chair toward Mark and strode out. Mark’s eyes traced his path.

  Mark psi’d urgently to Bane, ::Go to Jonal, warn him, now. Flagen claims he has leverage, Sarran law.::

  Jonal paced around the table, while Tonas sat at the console, scanning security holos. Jonal had caught a wisp of distress from Anya’s mind earlier and had the computer scan holo feed from every section of the ship. He found Anya in the mess looking frightened at a table with Flagen. He went ballistic. Tonas was only able to calm him by calling Mark and asking him to go to the mess and see if she was in trouble. Jonal continued to pace. Tonas eyes widened at the scene enacted on the viewer. His body blocked the console.

  “Admirals,” the computer said. “Chief Medical Office Bane with a message from Medical Officer Mark Stern.”

  “Tonas, Admiral, Prince of LightClan, enter.”

  “Admiral, sir, Chief Medical Officer Bane, May I speak freely, sir?”

  “Report,” both Tonas and Jonal replied.

  “Mark said Flagen was sniffing around Anya. When he arrived, she was very uncomfortable, but unharmed. He gave her the opportunity to exit and she took off like a shot. He says he has everything under control.”

  “Jonal, easy, Mark would know if trouble was threatened. He would have sent word.”

  Jonal’s voice was menacing. “No threat, My Light, nothing there…not on your part, but always on his. He will stop at nothing.” Jonal sat at the console, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. “He wouldn’t have dared approach her, if he didn’t have something.”

  Tonas spoke quickly. “Bane, find Anya, bring her to Quarters using any means necessary—now.”

  Jonal looked up, brushed tears away from his eyes, and sobbed brokenly, “They can’t take you away. I wouldn’t survive.” He began to shake with the intensity of a man who had endured torture for cycles and finally broke. “I’ve known for cycles that he would strike. I didn’t know where or when. You didn’t see what I saw, the plotting, the envy, and so many near misses during the war, assassins the Elders named friendly fire. I never knew when I went to medical whether I would die of my wounds or by his hand. You thought it was jealousy. It was, but it was also fear.”

  Tonas choked back anger and sorrow. “Why didn’t you tell me? There is nothing we can not face together.”

  “He was your friend. I did not want to take away from you. I tried to hint that all was not well with Flagen, but you wouldn’t look.”

  Tonas sighed, “Sometimes you must point out the obvious. Do not screen your mind from mine. Had you opened that door I would have seen long ago. It doesn’t matter now. Honesty compels me to say that I knew he once entertained the idea we could Bond, but he never pursued, and I found you. You, Firefly, put all others out of my heard and heart until our fem.” Tonas stood and reached for Jonal, pulling him into his strong arms and moving his mouth across soft lips. “We wait for Anya, Jonal, my love, and then we wait no more.”

  Anya appeared in the command corridor just as Bane left the StarRoom. “Princess,” he called.

  Anya looked around to see who he was calling.

  “Princess Anya,” he repeated.

  “Oh, Bane, you need me in medical?”

  “No Princess, excuse my abrupt address, but the Admirals need you immediately. I am to escort you to them.”

  “Dr. Bane, the entrance is fifty feet from where we stand. I can make fifty feet, unescorted,” Anya bristled.

  Bane grabbed her arm, “This way, Princess Anya. You are in danger, Princess; there is no time to argue.” Bane half pulled, half dragged Anya in the other direction.

  “Let go of me, you ass. Mark just sent me here.” Anya tried to shake his arm away, Bane pulled back. “You’re hurting me,” she yelled, “Computer, it’s Anya!” The double panel swooshed. At the sound of the door, Bane dropped her arm. Her two Warriors charged out of the room. Tonas slipped one arm around her back, the other beneath her knees and literally swept her off her feet, carrying her inside.

  “Bane, dismissed, with our thanks,” Jonal snapped.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, why are you thanking that chowder head?” Anya screeched. “He bruised my arm trying to get me away from here.”

  “What?” The Price of Fire roared in disbelief.

  “Computer, Tonas, Admiral, Prince LightClan Security Protocol 1258: Turn Command and Control to Security Officer Stern, STAT.

  “Computer, Jonal, Admiral, Prince FireClan. Security Protocol 1258, affirm.”

  “Tonas, Admiral, Prince LightClan: Order Navigation to Saxon and Lunas, Communications to Saxon and Lunas, overseen by Security Officer Stern.”

  “Computer, Private Communiqué to Juraens from Muranskya. Put Stern in charge. Situation: Serious. Support Saxon and Lunas, Jonal out.”

  “Bridge, Jonal Admiral, Prince of FireClan, All Command and Control, Security and Communications will be overseen by Security Officer Stern. Security Facilities are off limits to all Medical Officers except Security Officer Stern.”

  ::Anya, love, we must complete the ritual now.::

  “Quarters concierge, record to log time and date stamp.” Anya was spirited into the sleeping area.

  * * * *

  ::You belong to us. To me, to Tonas, do not forget this again.::

  Jonal spoke directly into her mind. Anya’s mind whirled. They brought her straight to the bed. Their hands were all over. Jonal was at her back and Tonas was at her front. Tonas carefully removed the brooch at her left shoulder; allow the toga-like blouse to bare her breasts. Jonal pulled a string at her waist and the harem pants fell off her body in one piece. She was naked amid the silken covers between the two men she loved. Tonas placed her gently on her back and put his knees inside her legs. Jonal knelt behind him. Jonal kissed Tonas’s back moving his lips up and down his spine. His square hands tugged at the leather vest, which barely covered Tonas’s chest, and slipped it down his arms.

  Tonas bent over Anya, kissing and tonguing the shell of her ear, moving down her jaw. Anya felt rather than saw Jonal loosen Tonas’s trews. Jonal moved to her side and Tonas slid his tongue from her face to his. Anya found her fingers in Jonal’s trews, avidly attempting the laces. One pull, they were loose. Out popped Jonal in all his glory. Tonas remained between her legs with Jonal just at her knee. As a resident physician, Anya had seen plenty of male equipment, these were stellar. She giggled. Stellar, by starlight. A bad pun. She had no idea what to say, so she didn’t speak at all. Although her mind burst with words not her own

  ::Soft, magnificent, Pa Mici, please, yield.::

  She had no idea what more she could yield; she was giving them all. She studied their need. Tentatively, she stroked Tonas. He was long and curved, thick. Jonal was thicker an a little shorter. Her hands seemed to move of their own volition. She grabbed the two cocks, squeezing them together and rubbing them against one another. They began to leak. She had no idea what to
do, no textbook or instructional CD, so she watched their faces and cleared her mind to hear and feel them. She took one hand and spread the leaking liquid from the slits over the jutting heads. Her other hand she used to move in a steady rhythm up and down. She swiped the index finger of her left hand across the two heads, gathering their juice. Smearing their combined juices on her lips, she let her small pink tongue taste. The reaction from her men was explosive. Jonal kissed her mouth, penetrating, exploring the recesses, biting her lips and trailing a chain of kisses to the nape of her neck. He bit down hard, sucking a mark. She shook with the intensity of the pleasure.

  Tonas moved down to her breasts. One hand tweaked and twisted, fondled, while his lips and teeth bit and sucked. Her nipples were scarlet, turgid. She moaned in need. “I want you both, now. How?”

  “Shush, Pa Mici, let us care for you in this and now in all things you wish.”

  Jonal was at her back. His hands slid over her skin until even the slightest movement brought fire. His mouth licked and bit her shoulders, down her spine. His tongue trailed the back of her knees; his strong blunt fingers massaged her calves. Her chest heaved. She gasped with pain or pleasure; she couldn’t discern the difference. Tonas murmured sweet phrases into her skin. He seemed to delight in her scent. He sniffed at her pulse points, behind her ears, at the top of her breasts, her collarbones. He teased with his tongue. Tonas’s touch was different from Jonal’s. Jonal made her shake; Tonas let her fly. He played with her breasts weighing each in his sure hands. Squeezing, tracing, nipping, and blowing on her aureole and watching in fascination as her nipples peaked and hardened for him. She was delirious with pleasure.

  As Tonas worked his way down her body, Jonal palmed, petted and lapped his way back up. He stopped at her ass, his hands molding and shaping the perfect globes, a pure soft, feminine version of the hard muscled glutes of their masculinity. He licked from the base of her spine to the crease, spreading it with his fingers and diving for the perfect pink rosette with his tongue. Anya started and began to pull away.