by Alex Douglas
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
Outcast
Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright 2012 by Alex Douglas
Cover illustration by BSClay
Published with permission
ISBN: 978-1-61040-416-7
www.torquerepress.com
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: January 2013
Printed in the USA
For Dominic, my Constant Reader
Chapter One
Prez lay flat on his belly and peered through his night-vision binoculars at the naked couple in the clearing. Their bodies were dappled with faint chinks of moonlight that shone through the gaps in the dense canopy of leaves above. The jungle was lively with the noise of insects and the shrieks and clicks of unfamiliar creatures, the air sticky and thick with pollen. He sneezed a couple of times and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Nothing's happening," he whispered. "Sure you've got everything?"
There was a sigh at his elbow. "Of course."
The skin of the naked couple glowed bright against the darkness of the thick foliage all around. The male was trying to orientate himself, hands fanned wide, fingertips brushing the edges of the bushes; he was already quite hard, and his skin was starting to shine with phosphorescent sweat. The female's excitement was more difficult to see, but it was there in the way she licked her lips, the shallow heaving of her chest. They were both breathing fast, hovering on the fight or flight boundary -- nervous and thrilled and terrified all at once.
Doc shuffled in the grass, trying to get a better view. "See anything?"
Prez breathed in the sour smell of the repellent that sat slick on his skin. Their blood swam with the formula that masked their scents so they were safe, but the couple ahead had no such protection. He reached into his bag and pulled out his thermal imaging goggles to get a different look. The jungle flared and glowed in his eyes, more alive than ever: shapes of yellow and red, blips of dark purple and luminescent blue, flecks of dark green and black. Sweat began to trickle down his back, and he shivered with the sickening heat. "Nothing useful," he said. Sneezing again, he tapped his watch. "They'd better hurry up."
Doc gripped his arm. "Listen!" he hissed, and Prez froze. Bursts of barking canine chatter echoed around the clearing suddenly, then nothing. The male and female dropped their arms to their sides and looked around wildly for a second, then stood rock-still, ears twitching, backs touching.
"There," Prez said. "To the left. Two, possibly three."
"Oh boy," Doc whispered. "We'd better be fast then."
Holding his breath, Prez watched the couple exchange a few words and laugh nervously. Then behind them, the jungle parted silently and two squat figures emerged, eyes glowing green in their flat faces. The fur on their bodies was long and matted. Despite their considerable bulk, they moved quickly and silently on their clawed feet. One step, then another. The couple couldn't see them, but they obviously heard something and clutched at each other in terror.
"Any second now..." Prez whispered.
Two identical snarls appeared on the hairy creatures' faces. Their teeth were sharp and dripping, their arms long, trailing down past their knees. At the dark V where their fat bellies met their legs, thick tubes of veined flesh were starting to emerge. Their chins became slick with drool and venom, and they licked their lips with long, thin tongues.
Then they struck.
Faster than Prez's eyes could register, their long arms whipped out and grabbed a pale figure, one each, pulling them in a death grip and sinking their sharp teeth into the soft flesh of the necks. There was a brief struggle, then the sagging of the knees and jaws that meant the venom was already doing its job. The creatures' arms wrapped around the torsos, hairy dark diagonals across the glowing flesh, holding the captives tight. There was a burst of rapid movement in the dark, then two piercing howls that forced screeching birds from the canopy above. Then the creatures released the naked bodies and disappeared back into the jungle. The couple slumped to the ground, their sighs and moans carrying on the still air.
"Let's get them." Prez stood up and made his way through the high grasses over to the couple who were starting to writhe and jerk, their eyes still white and swimming with poison. He looked down at them, frowning. Without Flack, getting the couple onto the shuttle would be more difficult than usual, and none of the others had dared to come down. The couple's sweaty bodies were heavy and floppy, and by the time they were safely in the shuttle, Prez's muscles were aching.
Doc knelt on the metal floor and pulled out his HandyScan. The couple were on their backs, their moans becoming more and more frequent. The male's penis was engorged and twitching and oozing phosphorescent liquid over his stomach. Prez nodded at it and folded his arms.
"Better be fast," he said. "He's going to blow any second."
The HandyScan cast a faint orange line over the contours of the male's belly and made a few bleeps. Doc frowned, scanned a few more times, then relaxed. "There it is," he said, and pulled out his laser scalpel and anesthetic spray. He turned the male onto his stomach and the machine bleeped again. The anus was torn and bleeding and stretched. Prez looked away. He hated watching the extraction of the foetus. But Doc had never got it wrong yet, so he wasn't worried.
After Doc had finished with both of them, they rolled the couple onto their backs. The male was writhing, crying out, shrieking as jets of sperm fountained up and over his chest and face. The female was starting to scream too, her heels battering against the metal floor as her pelvis jerked up again and again.
Prez chuckled. "Man," he said. "It looks like so much fun. Must try it myself someday."
"You say that every time," Doc grinned and pointed to the male's penis, which was still rock hard and pulsing feebly. "Better put a receptacle on that. This particular genus of hominid are known to produce voluminous quantities of seminal fluid."
"Bags on cocks? That's what I pay you for." Prez settled in behind the controls of the shuttle and programmed it for liftoff. Strapping himself into the seat, he looked over his shoulder. "And be fast. The APs will be onto us soon."
"This couple came a long way for this. I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting Daliz before."
"It's no pleasure, believe me. If you think their government's aggressive, you should try negotiating a deal with the individuals. Red brains, the pair of them."
Sighing, Doc wrapped an elastic-necked bag around the male's penis, strapped the jerking bodies onto the floor, and got into his seat. He put his hand on the console and then snatched it away, swearing and flapping his fingers against his trousers. "Kin-tah! A web."
"Another one? He's been busy," Prez said absently, releasing the grounding holds and sitting back as the engines reached a high-pitched whine. The shuttle shot up into the sky and almost immediately hit turbulence as thick cloud engulfed the tiny vessel. Prez's knuckles whitened around the arms of his chair. It didn't matter how long he'd been flying; turbulence was never fun. Luckily, it didn't last long. The little craft soon exited the atmosphere of the planet and headed toward the transport, which was hidden in behind the third moon, out of range -- for the time being anyway -- of the passing Andran Patrollers.
Doc was still wiping the web off his
fingers onto his grass-stained trousers. "Where is he anyway? I thought he was on the bridge. He gets around fast."
"Flack?" Prez said. "I don't know, he's usually somewhere under the seats. Hopefully we'll run into another Malaihan again soon, maybe when we get to the space port. You want dropped off there, or home?"
"The port," Doc said. "I'm getting new quarters, got an interview at a practice there. If that resolution's passed back home, I won't be going back there to die with all those fools."
Prez grunted. He hadn't been back to Akilia in years. The Outcast was his home, and it suited him fine to leave the past where it belonged. "The closure? Kin-tah idiots, the lot of them."
Doc clicked in agreement. "Well, at least there's Kiz-Mah to look forward to. Only this year, try not to send me any strippers during office hours." He sighed and looked out into the void. "And you're picking up your new co-pilot. Do you know anything about him?"
"The agency sent his profile. Look there, on the Tablet."
Doc lifted the device and scanned through the information on the screen. "Mother of Skies!" he exclaimed. "He's from Aldor, did you know that?"
"Where?"
"Oh boy, for a pilot, you know very little about interstellar geography. Aldor's the only inhabited planet in the z30 System, at the very edge of known space. If we set off now in a ship of the Outcast's class, we'd be long dead by the time we reached it."
Prez made a face "Then there's no point cluttering my mind with useless information if I'm never going to go there." He reached over and switched the Tablet to HoloView and watched the figure of his new co-pilot blink into a fuzzy shape that revolved and gazed enigmatically out of unsmiling black eyes. "Anyway, he's hot. Kind of exotic-looking. Don't you think?"
"Prez..." Doc groaned as he read. "Are you serious? All he's done is pilot a shuttle between the surface of Aldor and its space dock. And he's had his interstellar pilot's license for what, a whole month? I thought you had some big mission coming up, something important. Hardly the time to be hiring... eye candy."
Prez snatched the Tablet from Doc's hands and threw it onto the console. "I did not use those words. Yes, the assignment's important, but it's nothing I couldn't manage by myself, although the asteroids might be a struggle. What can I say? It gets boring with only the AutoNav for company." His lips formed a stubborn line. "Anyway, why shouldn't I have something nice to look at? It's not like anything's going to happen."
"Hm, indeed." Doc's orange eyes danced left and right as he read. "According to this Galaxedia entry here, Aldor's a very traditional society, and they never pair with outsiders. Belief system... blah blah... some sort of nature-based semi-religion... male and female parts to everything, that sort of stuff... apparently, no outsider's ever really worked out what it's all about." He set the Tablet down and sighed. "Fascinating."
Scowling, Prez looked at his watch again and jerked his thumb toward the writhing couple in the back. "Don't have time to drop those two off until after we've picked him up," he said gruffly, hoping Doc would drop the whole thing. "They were so slow getting ready, couldn't be convinced that they didn't need to pack."
Another burst of high-pitched moans echoed, and the female's body began to thrum against the floor. Her hair was saturated with sweat, and there was a golden core glowing under the translucent skin of her torso. Prez sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Tell you the truth, Doc, I'm getting tired of these sex trips. Too much hassle, and if we get caught again..."
"You don't need to tell me," Doc said. "I'd lose my license to practice medicine. Still, it's quite an exhilarating experience. So few have ever visited Ralia."
The jungle planet had been off limits for as long as Prez could remember. Most people who went there never came back. The Ralians -- there was still some debate over whether they were sentient beings or not -- were hunters without mercy. But it was their bite that attracted the foolhardy to visit; the venom caused the most potent and long-lasting orgasmic high in the known universe. It was a mind-blowing anesthetic that left its victims coming over and over again, pacified by sexual bliss even as the fast-growing foetus exploded out of their abdomens with its first meal, writhing and bloody. A few lucrative -- and deadly dangerous -- visits every year, and Prez's dream of a new ship drew closer and closer.
As the shuttle docked into the belly of the Outcast, Prez slid a case out from under his seat and smoothed his palms over the surface. "They paid in gramalite bars," he said. "One all for you, my friend."
Doc grinned. "You're speaking my language!"
There was a roar from the male and his body went rigid for a moment, then he sagged back against the floor, his eyes no longer rolled back in his head but glazed and staring at the ceiling. The bag around his penis was almost full already. Doc rubbed his crotch, wriggling in his seat for a second. "Get this old heap moving." He pulled a silver flask from his bag and took a swig, then offered it to Prez. "Mukkesh? It's home brewed. Just thinking, maybe we should pop in and visit Vix's place when we get to the port. These trips always make me horny."
Prez took the flask and gulped at the burning liquid. Immediately he felt the buzz, and energy surged through his body. "You and me both, my friend," he grinned. They slapped their right hands together up in the air in the alien gesture known only by their own kind. "Ku-tah!"
***
Lan stood at the entrance of the bar and folded his arms. He could hear off-key singing coming from within and smell the stale warmth of hot bodies gathered together. Beings of all races went about their business around him, giving him a wide berth, some stopping to stare openly. He sighed and looked up at the arrivals screen again. The Outcast was due to dock any minute; then he could get to work. He was looking forward to earning some money at last. Securing passage away from Aldor hadn't been cheap.
The Outcast. Already he felt an affinity with the ship where he was to serve. And the captain -- Prez -- was rumored to be ku-tah, which intrigued him even more. He had read about the hominids the usually xenophobic Akilians had abducted from a distant planet, to try and save themselves from the genetic plague their millennia of inbreeding had caused. The experiment had failed, and the government of Akilia was drawing up a resolution to seal the planet off from the outside world so they could do whatever it was that a dying species did -- perhaps force a final cure from within. But Lan had done his research and had come to the conclusion that they lacked the will to save themselves, too set in their ways to live.
He felt the stares of the passers-by crawl over his skin and felt reasonably sure that no one aboard the space port had ever seen an Aldorian before. The buzzing curiosity was giving him a headache. His eyes moved independently, taking in the dull metal surfaces, the holographic screens that advertised everything from the latest laser disembowellers to Neuro-Enhancers to self-ironing clothes. His brown robes scratched at his skin; one of the many things he would have to get used to, the wearing of clothes. For one painful second he missed the sensation of a warm breeze against his skin, and a picture of home rose in his mind. The blajo trees would be in full bloom, delicate blue petals turning toward the twin suns and drifting off like confetti on the balmy southern breeze, while the plains stretched out toward the mountains and baked lazily in the haze of endless summer.
The screen flashed to update itself; the Outcast had docked.
Lan straightened up and made his way from the social quarter to the dock security where he presented his documentation and was waved through by two imperious Belaari guards. A table of ponytailed Andran customs officials lined the left wall; on the right, there were more of the holographic screens broadcasting warnings in all languages about illegal weapons, imports of rare skins, drugs. The latest substance the Andrans were panicking over was ground broili root, which according to the blurb, could cause mild euphoria. Piles of papers were stacked on the Andrans' desks. Despite their high level of technological advancement, they were sticklers for the old ways, and the officials looked excited, all ready
to pounce and shower the visitors with tickbox forms and endless questions. Lan watched them with one eye, imagining the consequences for Andran society if the euphoria created by the thought of impending paperwork ever made it onto their lengthy list of illegal highs.
There was nowhere to sit, so Lan leaned against the wall, watching the gates for Prez. The picture and bio supplied by the agency were obviously out of date. The captain looked no older than a teenager even though he was listed as thirty-eight years old; brown-faced and grinning with a dimple in his left cheek and a thick mop of ink black hair. He wore jewelry too -- a tiny ring in his ear and another in his eyebrow. A diamond glinted on the side of his nose, and it looked as if some exotic flowering plant was blooming at the base of his throat. Lan had heard that some races liked to decorate their skin with pictures and wondered what it felt like to touch one. Prez's Akilian genes manifested solely in the burnt orange irises that stared out of the photograph, his eyes the only part of his face that the smile didn't touch. Lan had stared at the picture for a long time, forced to admit that the captain's alien appearance was... engaging.
Just above the piped music, there came the sound of bawdy singing and laughter. The automatic doors shifted aside and two figures emerged, arm in arm, almost incapable of walking. He recognized Prez instantly. His first impression of the other was that he was Akilian, but when he threw back his head and laughed Lan noticed that his tongue was smooth and rounded at the end, not forked as it should have been. The two of them clutched their bellies and laughed helplessly, and even the Andran customs officials looked confused for a moment. Then the tallest official stood up, tossed his ponytail over his shoulder and glared at the laughing men.
"Hey there, ku-tah! Papers please."
Prez's grin faded for a moment. He hauled a pack off his back and dumped a thick wad of papers onto the table, then got on his knees and kissed the floor at the Andran's feet. "Blit an Ikarber!" he cried, then repeated the salutation two more times.