The Sarran Plague (The Sarrans Book 1)

by A. C. Katt

  ::Settle Pa Mici, here in this room, everything is permitted, everything is worshiped and given its due.::

  She immediately relaxed as if she had been waiting for his permission. His tongue whirled around the opening and then up to the rosette of her anus. His fingers stroked through the red hair that covered her pubis.

  ::One day, Pa Mici, you will take us both.:: Jonal’s deep basso reverberated through her psyche as his moistened fingers circled the rosette in a sensual spiral. ::And you will scream with delight.::

  Miraculously, she believed him. Mind-to-mind there were no lies.

  Tonas moved his hand down her stomach in tracing patterns. Each stroke sensitized her skin further, and lifted Anya higher. By the time his fingers entwined with Jonal’s on her mound Anya’s mind was ready to escape her body. They were almost to the point where they could start the ritual. In order to meld their souls, their minds needed to push through to the astral plane.

  Tonas lingered between her legs, kissing Jonal’s beloved face while they explored the crevices of her sweet entrance. They did not break their kiss but together lips and tongues moved down to taste her. Her vulva was high with a pronounced bone. The outer lips were full and firm, accentuated by the slight protrusion of the inner lips at the top of the crease. Her public hair was trimmed to a neat triangle above the entrance. The lips themselves were hairless. Two sets of fingers spread the outer lips. The fem pleasure button was in its place, modestly covered by the little hood of fem foreskin. It stood up from the stimulation. The inner lips were purple and engorged, ready for the invasion of her sweet vaginal canal. A tongue on each side, sliding along the inner creases, one at the channel, one gently licking and sucking the clitoral hood sent spirals of need to her channel. Anya’s hips rotated and pushed toward the sensation.

  Jonal and Tonas each lay their head on the side of Anya’s thighs. Their fingers explored the outer and inner labia of their fem’s gift as they explored each other’s mouths. Closer and closer, they moved their beloved fem along the road to joining. It had to be exactly right for the ritual to go unquestioned. Each Warrior lifted their fingers from Anya’s labia and lapped Anya’s cream from each other’s fingers. One finger turned to two, slowly stretching her entrance. The thin translucent membrane of her hymen was visible to their eyes. A gift they neither sought nor expected, but received with reverence. Three fingers each stretched the entrance; now they could penetrate without blood. They worked her flesh, taking her up, with the hard pulsing of their fingers.

  Anya screamed and chanting their names, begging them to do whatever it took. She delivered herself to them. “Please take me, take all of me, please…Jonal, Tonas, I need you. I want you. I love you, my Warriors.” Their need reverberated in her head until she no longer cared whose thoughts she carried. A chorus rang in the air around them.

  ::My Light, Firefly, Pa Mici, Pa Channa, My Love, My Life.::

  Jonal and Tonas moved along her body. They met in a three way kiss, tongues flying, lips bruised. She was reaching, striving to reach a goal that was almost in her grasp.

  ::Anya,:: she heard, ::You must wet us for the penetration.:: It was a harsh whisper of need in her mind.

  A small kernel of doubt crept in. ::Will it hurt?::

  ::Trust your Mates, Pa Mici, we will never hurt you.::

  With that reassurance, she opened her mouth to receive them, reading exactly what was necessary from their heart to hers. She took each cock in turn. Sucking deep, rolling her tongue over the top, tasting the liquid from the slit. She marveled at the matching rings and played, twisting, and turning until more of the precious fluid flowed from each slit. She spread the pre-cum, along with fluid from her mouth, and some she cupped from her own dripping channel to make sure her lovers had as much natural lubrication as they needed. They shuddered. Tonas held his organ tight around the base to keep from spilling. He moved down between her knees. Jonal moved behind him, his fingers flexing and enlarging Tonas’s pucker. The natural lubricant produced by the secondary sperm valve helped loosen the tight sphincter muscle. Tonas pushed out against his fingers.

  The need, the love and longing washed over them in waves. Tonas positioned himself over Anya, Jonal over Tonas. Jonal penetrated the welcoming rosette of Tonas’s ass.

  ::So tight, oh Goddess you are so tight, My Light.::

  Tonas felt a spasm of pain and then, past the second set of muscles, a stretch and burning sensation, Goddess, he was full. Jonal was where he needed him most. He pushed back. With Jonal’s forward stroke, Tonas penetrated Anya.

  ::Ahhhhh, oh please, yes, don’t stop, please, harder.:: Anya’s cries of pleasure both verbal and psychic brought Tonas and Jonal higher.

  Jonal whispered words in Tonas’s ear, stroked his back, and slammed his hips so that his sac bounced against his beloved. ::Oh, My Light, for ten years I’ve waited for this moment. Waited to be yours, I’ve loved you for so long. I yearned to worship at the temple of your soul.::

  ::Anya, our Pa Mici, our Pa Channa, we cherish you, we envelop you in our love. Yield to us your soul, your love, your trust, to our keeping, as we give ours to you to love, to honor and cherish from this moment until all the stars go black and we go forth into the afterlife still together, still bonded to one another, a Triad true to the Sacred Three and the Goddess who oversee us all.::

  Anya flew into a blaze of passion, her body shook, and she felt everything. She felt whole, yet the word seemed too small describe the sensation of the joining. She gathered her Warriors into her arms called out their names. As if in a trance she watched as three globes, one blue, one red, and one green merged into a single six-sided starburst.

  Tonas felt his balls draw up and saw his soul merge with Anya and Jonal as the seizure hit. Jonal came last, the strength of the Triad. The roles assigned were given only at this moment the first joining. Anya was the heart, Tonas the soul and conscience, and Jonal the strength and guardian of their home. The three collapsed into the sheer golden sheets. Saying nothing aloud but sharing everything in their minds, hearts and souls. They opened doors to places both dim and bright. There would be arguments, but never would a Triad have lies amidst them. The Ritual of Penetration was complete.

  * * * *

  Jonal returned from the cleansing area carrying a soft washing cloth and a basin. He washed the tender lips of Anya’s pubis, taking care to hold the warm compress against both her inner and out lips to ease any swelling that might ensue. Kissing her gently, he moved to Tonas. Carefully, Jonal wiped the semen from his crease and down his leg. Wickedly, he cleaned Tonas’s cock with long laps of his tongue and kisses. His tongue snaked up and around the heavy gold guiche ring.

  ::Firefly, are you coming back to bed?:: his loves chorused. ::Because if you continue to do that, Firefly,:: Tonas teased, ::I am not responsible for the consequences.::

  ::One moment, Pa Mici, Tonas, haven’t you forgotten something?:: Jonal looked over to the huge dresser while casually fingering and pulling at the ring.

  With a quick kiss to Anya, Tonas vaulted over her, fingering a flower on the tree design. A door to a hidden compartment popped and Tonas reached inward. A red lacquered and gilded box bedecked with silver and golden ribbons appeared in his hand. Jonal curled up against Anya from behind while Tonas placed the box on her stomach.

  ::Open,:: her lovers appealed. The ribbons hid a latch; the box opened at her touch. Nestled inside on a bed of quilted silk sat a single cuff crafted of twined branches of yellow, white and red gold encircled by a matching arm band.

  ::It’s unique, so precious; it’s us, isn’t it. When did you have this made? Where does it go?:: Anya blushed a bit at the last.

  ::Where do you think it goes love?:: Jonal asked with that naughty eyebrow rising to his forehead.

  Tonas removed the small cuff from its box. ::When Jonal and I first loved, it was under the branches of the Tierest tree. After, we celebrated our Bond with the matching rings and arm bracelets.::

  Jonal pi
cked up, ::We were second lieutenants, and not receiving many credits. On Sarran, everything needed is available, no one goes without. But most of it is replicated, computer made from interchangeable nana parts. There is land aplenty. We build houses in days. We reserve credits for things of the heart, things designed and crafted by hand, patterns designed by artisan, not by machine. When we saw this arm bracelet and matching labia cuff, we knew that it belonged to our fem. We spent every credit we had on the cuff, bracelets and the two rings.::

  ::Pa Channa, watching your bright blue eyes as you opened the package was worth that and more, our love.:: Tonas reverently spread her labia lip while Jonal snapped on the cuff. Anya felt a slight pinch. She didn’t make a sound; it just felt right.

  ::Come down beside me, my Princes. Let us sleep for awhile before the world intrudes.::

  Chapter 10

  “Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”

  —Betty Davis, All About Eve

  Sarran Calendar: Cycle 9435.B115

  Earth Calendar: June 25th, early afternoon

  Dr. Bane looked up from the holo as he heard the whoosh of the medical bay’s double panels. Hospitals all looked alike. Humanoids had for ages associated white and any kind of polished metal with sterility and cleanliness no matter how many times science proved disease was bacterial, viral, or genetic in nature. Sarrans were no different. Even though they were capable of instant manufacture of medical supplies in any color, they invariably produced white. Computers did most of the routine, diagnostic work. Computer driven lasers, precise at an atomic scale, did surgery, although surgery was rare. Only in combat triage or in research did a physician get to engage in hands-on medicine.

  Genetic research, Ban specialty, had not been a popular field of study until the Ipz had changed the Sarran prejudice against genetic manipulation, at least at the viral level. It was only when genetics researchers worked with infectious disease specialists that a vaccine and antidote had been found. Bane had been a minor player in the research team that solved the puzzle, but his participation had won him a berth on Brightstar. He intended to ensure himself a brilliant future.

  Bane’s real interests lay in the prohibited field of mass humanoid genetic exploitation. While others had been searching the forbidden research documents of the past to find clues to making an antidote to the plague, Bane searched the histories for techniques used to create the forerunners of today’s Sarran Warriors and fems. Sarrans were physically superior to most of the humanoid inhabitants in the galaxy. Bane believed that Sarran superiority came about when genetic engineers selected for overall perfection, rather than specialization. One disaster, the reduced number of fems born, had caused the elders to forbid further large scale tampering with Sarran genetic material. Now, there were no Sarran fems. Bane, and others, felt that it was past time to rethink the issue. He was aware that some of the psi patterns that produced the Bond were becoming stronger over the cycles. The Elder library opened to researchers only after the tragedy of Ipz led to some interesting hypothesis in light of scientific advances made over the millennium.

  If Bane could produce Sarran-type Warriors with similar psi patterns for the Galactic Alliance, the Alliance would not have to rely on the Sarran fleet. There were some factions of the Alliance who thought that this would have been the eventual outcome of the Ipz incident—Sarran genes mixed into the humanoid pool, making them no longer exclusive. They didn’t know the secret. It was the Histories that led him to the truth. There really was no high moral ground the Sarrans staked out on purity of the Sarran line, it was the Bond that scared the Sarrans shitless. Mixing the Sarran genes with any of the enhanced variety weakened the Sarran prototype and made it recessive. If the Sarran genes were mixed with enhanced genes, the Sarran genetic prototype melted into the galactic gene pool making it near impossible to recreate.

  However the Sarrans and their Alliance supporters had a primitive planet with an original, pure genome as a source of fems with an acceptable, traceable lineage. Since Earth was on the list of potential Alliance candidates, and located in a sector where the Zyptz had not, as yet, ventured, the proposal put an end to on lifting the Codex ban on genetic manipulation.

  The solution was a real blow to the plans of the Anti-Sarran faction of the Alliance for a number of reasons. The first was the Sarrans remained in control of the fleet and law enforcement on Alliance Planets. The Sarran Codex was strict and gave little wiggle room for war profiteers, drug lords, pirates, slavers and the like and as any youngling knew, scarce commodities produced the highest profits. The second was, especially for the young hotheads with freedom emblazoned on their foreheads, Sarrans retained their genetic superiority and superiority wasn’t fair.

  Bane had used his research time to come up with a solution that would make him rich. As to its effect on the Sarrans or the Alliance, he really didn’t give a flying fuck to use one of Mark’s more elegant turns of prose.

  Bane intended using genetic manipulation to make any humanoid a Warrior, thus eliminating the Sarran monopoly and making Bane a very rich man with well-connected friends in very high places. He planned to make all of his Warriors sterile, thereby creating his lab as the sole source for Warriors outside of the Sarrans. Just the idea of leaving Sarran behind got his cock hard, beating them at their own game was orgasmic.

  Bane was not so lost in thought that he dismissed the door. He knew it wasn’t Mark. Mark was safely ensconced in the security office off the Bridge. It wasn’t a medic. Once the new fems were processed and placed, the medical team had dispersed throughout the ship. They manned clinic and counseling stations that were set up to facilitate the fems’ acclimatization to Sarran society and to help them cope with their sudden entrance into a Galactic rather than planet bound governance. That left Flagen. Flagen was a distraction and an inconvenience that he could no longer afford despite brotherhood and shared shame. Flagen was becoming a problem, not only to Bane, but also to the people who employed him. Bane had been informed that if he didn’t put an end to Flagen’s disturbances, they would, and not nicely.

  “Bane!” Flagen shouted as he entered the lab.

  He kept his own voice mild in tone, not wanting to ignite an immediate conflagration. “I wasn’t expecting you,” Bane said.

  “Obviously,” Flagen sneered, pulling up a stool next to Bane’s. “I left your Bonded down in the mess where he threatened me away from my twin brother. Is that how it is now, Bane, he rules the roost? Strange, as I remember it, you always had trouble submitting, to our fathers, to rules, to the truth.” Flagen’s eyes shifted over to the holo that had his brother’s complete attention. “That’s a model of the viral antidote, but there are changes, there and there.” Flagen pointed to the three dimensional representation of genetic code that seemed to float and spin.

  “My specialty is Combat Surgery, but even I recognize the profile of that virus. What do those changes represent?” Flagen’s tone leaped from sneering and accusatory to foreboding. “Has there been news of the Zyptz? Are they readying another virus?” Flagen reached across to grab Bane right through the holograph. “What are you up to this time, Bane? Since we last spoke on Sarran, your performance as enthralled lover has been absorbing but out of character. As your twin, I would have sensed a true Bond. The Earthen is arrogant, but that is no justification for a fraudulent claim.”

  “Let me loose, Flagen. We’re not offspring, trying to piss squares.” Bane’s expression swept from haughty to mild amusement, “You have an objection to my hypothetical duplicity?”

  “It depends on the explanation,” countered Flagen. “I have expected an accounting for over a tide that you haven’t offered. It has become necessary for me to know, necessary enough to find out by any means. You are usually more forthcoming regarding your schemes. You want my silence, buy it. One way or another, you will tell me what you are doing, right now.”

  Bane looked down and away. He had to be cautious; any suggestion of perjury would
incense rather than mollify. “What you see is a different strain of the vaccine and antidote. It is a variant of the ampoule used for the Rites of Dissolution. This variant could have enabled Sarran WarriorPairs to procreate with any humanoid female. I’ve experimented with it for two cycles. It will also turn any humanoid of suitable gender and latent psi potential into a Sarran capable of withstanding Sarran Warrior Training, promulgating offspring and achieving almost full psychic connection without a Bond.” Bane neglected to mention that further research could produce Sarran-like clones. Clones that wouldn’t need a WarriorPair or a fem, bred as Warriors for the Alliance or anyone else that had enough credit to purchase one.

  “Without a Bond?” Flagen asked, sitting on the stool looking stupefied.

  “Yes, my dear twin, everything you ever dreamed of is within your grasp and in my hand. I’ll have plenty of credit, but it isn’t credit I wanted. On Sarran, being ennobled ensures income and influence, power and prestige. As you know, dear brother, either you make your bones by your twenty-ninth cycle, or you don’t. Our dear fathers, the Dukes, didn’t even bother to confer the courtesy title of Marquisate to either of us. You wanted to own a prince, brother. I wanted to be one. This formula should have made me a prince. Don’t you understand? My project, my life’s work pushed aside in favor of an ill-concocted mission to retrieve fems from an obscure and barbaric planet. All this sacrifice performed in service of a Bond that is antiquated and unnecessary in the modern universe. I have a contact on ship and in the Alliance. Trust me, brother, and we will no longer live in deprivation. Issue your challenge. I hold the ampoule. You get the fem and the prince. I get your silence until I’m done with my negotiation. Everyone wins. Now go.”

  “Yes, Bane, everyone wins,” Flagen agreed.

  To himself he added, But eventually someone loses, and that person is never you.