A darker head of hair at the far end of the room caught my eye, and I wandered closer. Long, silky black locks peeked out from under a sheet that covered the female head to toe, like a shroud. Some perverse instinct made me pull the cloth away.
My heart pounded. I felt the heady rush of blood pour through my veins, straight to my manhood.
Her skin gleamed under the bright lights of the bay, as black as the priceless gems mined in the caverns of Mira-Ba back home on Arythios. So black it carried a hint of purple undertones. Impossible. It must have been a trick of the light. Or of my addled brain. Purple was the color of passion in my people. Seeing a rich purple hue was as arousing to a healthy male as feeling up the soft full tit of a brazen wench. Like the one my hand was cupping, though I didn’t remember reaching for it.
My thumb grazed the deep pink nipple. I didn’t have to look any further. “This one,” I muttered. “I want this one.”
I glanced back to where Dylos stood, across the huge space. “I want this one,” I repeated louder, my voice ringing though the cavernous space.
I knew if I spread her legs I’d see labial folds the color of a seasprite shell. My cockheads writhed inside my pants, straining to be freed.
My fingers tightened reflexively, squeezing the pink nipple, making it pucker and turn a deeper pink. I heard a gasp and looked down.
Her eyes were open, those beautiful dark eyes. The eyes that held mine when she knelt at my feet. Half-naked, confessing her wickedness. Telling me she deserved to be punished. Then showing me why. My vision—come to life.
It seemed the gods weren’t ready to have me join them yet.
Chapter Two
Aja
“What are you doing?” I gasped out the words, waking from a dream that quickly faded out of my ability to remember the details, but a large hand covered my breast, the thumb bringing my nipple quickly to a stiff peak. My breasts, large for my slim frame, always attracted attention. Most people thought they were implants, but no. Just eye candy for every sleaze who came into my father’s store.
But the sleazes never actually touched—not under his watchful stare. They just leered and ogled whenever his back was turned. To my father, I was an asset, one to be well guarded.
But what I saw when I peeked from under lowered lids was anything but Father’s store. Nor was it home or anywhere else I’d been before. I lay flat on my back on a table of some sort, nude, and although I saw no visible ropes or chains, and I tried hard, I was unable to move.
A huge man stood over me, his skin some shade between gray and lavender, his bald head well-shaped, full lips parted as he focused his gaze on…on me. A dark-blue jumpsuit emblazoned with some kind of insignia on the top left chest outlined his broad shoulders and trim waist as well as an alarmingly large bulge below his waist.
While the man, who must have been at least seven-feet tall, spoke to another man in a language I could—for some reason I couldn’t figure out—understood a little of. Just a word here and there. I was certain I’d never heard it before, but, as their conversation went on, more and more became clear. “This one.” What did that mean?
I flicked my gaze, the only thing that I seemed to have the ability to move, to the left and right to see rows of other women laid out around me. Had there been an accident of some kind? Had we all been injured? The big, high-ceilinged room in which we lay had little to identify it, but…I struggled to remember anything that might put this situation into perspective.
Were these men doctors? The one wore something like a lab coat, but the other…could he be some kind of cop? Some sort of CSI guy making a report? The other one held a tablet but the taller one nothing.
What happened?
All the bodies around me were female, and all breathing so far as I could tell, so that was reassuring. And I saw no blood, no bandages or other medical apparatus to indicate we were in some sort of a hospital.
The men stepped back and spoke in quieter tones, joined by a third man who had an air of authority. He must be in charge. Though I strained, I could no longer hear enough to decipher what they were saying.
Yet I knew I could if they spoke up or came closer.
Was everyone here paralyzed? Or just unconscious?
I had to know what happened. I couldn’t recall a plane crash or anything that might have put us all into this state. But then didn’t they say that people who had been in a coma often had little memory of the time immediately prior to their accident or stroke or whatever? Still, unless I’d had an aneurism or something—which the sheer number of other victims made seem unlikely—I shouldn’t be having trouble understanding the two men speaking. Unless I’d been overseas when whatever terrible thing happened? But why? I continued to listen. Or try to.
No, they weren’t speaking my language. As consciousness cemented itself, I became very sure of that. And I knew why I was getting at least some of their words.
A chip… I’d heard of implants that could help one to understand other languages, of course. Even seen a few in action. My father, in addition to being one of the largest importers of exotic items of questionable origins, had many connections in the government, and abroad. Sometimes guests at the dinners my father hosted for clients were from far away, and they used them to participate in the conversation. Much less cumbersome than a translator. And more secure.
But this wasn’t working very well at all—so it must be some really obscure tongue. Spoken by someone whose skin was a hue I’d never seen or heard of before.
I couldn’t move my limbs, but I could feel them. Did that mean I wasn’t paralyzed?
If not, then what?
The guy who seemed to be in charge finished saying something and left. I tried again to move, to sit up, to bend a finger.
Panic welled up inside me until it threatened to spill out in some form I couldn’t imagine. Finally, I managed to emit a shriek, well more like a squeak, and the remaining duo who were discussing my treatment or injuries or where to have lunch both turned to face me.
Whatever they saw in my face, terror, fear, confusion, had them stepping fast to my side.
“What is wrong…her?” The taller man, the one who’d fondled my breasts. Funny how that had slipped my mind when I thought I was dying.
I was getting more words now.
“Nothing Archon,” the lab coat-wearing man with the tablet replied. “She’s just coming out of the stasis, and that can lead to some confusion. She’ll be… Won’t you?”
“Fine, I…” Turned out I could speak. I’d somehow thought I couldn’t. “Are you asking if I’m fine? I can’t move. I-we were we all in an accident?” I wanted to indicate the other women but, without working hands, couldn’t. “Tell me what happened.”
Both of them watched me with something akin to pity in their expressions. “No accident.” Tablet guy. “Your vital signs and responses are all perfect. You’re probably just a little foggy, but that will pass.”
I blinked at him, using my eyes to convey anything I could. “Then why can’t I move? I’m not paralyzed?”
“No.” He made some notes on his tablet. “Not at all.”
The other man cut in. “Just have her sent to my quarters so I can get her bred and return to my studies.”
If I’d been panicked before, or thought I had, that sensation had nothing on what I endured now. “Bred? You want to breed me like a cow? Are you my husband? Did my father finally managed to force me into a marriage against my will? I won’t do it, do you hear me? I’ll kill you first!”
I tried to move even a toe or a finger, anything to get out of here before I found myself tied to this stranger-than-strange stranger for my lifetime. Where had Father dug him up? Must be one of those obscure peoples who never left the rain forest or from Siberia or somewhere. Someone who could do something for him, help him achieve his ultimate goal.
To my horror, a small smile lifted the corners of the tall one’s lips, raising them into an amused smirk. “I’m afrai
d I cannot allow you to kill me, although I appreciate your anger. If I’d been raised by a father who I thought might treat me as chattel, I might feel the same. But you aren’t married.”
I exhaled a half breath in relief before his next words had me sucking it right back in. “No, it’s not your father who had you sent here, at least not so far as I know.”
“Then who? Where am I? And why can’t I move?”
He nodded. “I understand your concern. First, you were a gift from your government to my people, and our admiral has gifted you to me.”
I thought my head was going to explode but did my best to contain it. I still had more questions, and if I went off the deep end into hysteria, I’d probably waken “bred and wed.”
As to where you are, you are on the Arythian Solport captained by the honorable Mantsk, many light years from your home world.”
Brain expanding, skull about to shatter into a thousand pieces.
“And you can’t move because of The Controller.”
Okay, with my blood pressure a million over three-quarters of a million, sane thoughts were hard to come by. But that last one I could maybe handle. “And can you turn off The Controller?”
He nodded. “Of course, we can.”
Mmm… “Would you?”
He gave the other man a look and received a quick head shake in return. “No, I think that will have to wait. Now, if there are no other questions, I must continue my work, and will return to my quarters to breed you shortly.”
Don’t say that again!” I shrilled. “Don’t say ‘breed’ or ‘bred’ or anything like that. I’m not going to give birth to horribly mutant alien children just because my father or my government or anyone else gave me to you wrapped up with a ribbon.”
“There’s no ribbon.” His voice was low and even, but his eyes snapped.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, but if you’d like to have ribbons, we will try to obtain them for you. Breeding females can be so needy.”
“Oh my God. I’m not breeding.”
“You will be shortly, so if we can anticipate those needs, we can meet them better. Before I go, is there anything else you need?” He looked so impatient, as if I was keeping him from more important tasks. Now I wasn’t sure whether to be angry, frightened, or insulted. Suddenly the short, stocky, poorly-spoken son of my father’s business partner in Brazil sounded like a more viable option. Why had I turned him down again? Surely I could learn to live with a little dragon breath if it kept me on Earth. And the youth had fawned over me. This man, this alien, didn’t look like he’d ever fawned over anyone.
“I. Need. You. To. Take. Me. Home.” How could I say it any clearer? “Now.” There.
“Oh that’s quite impossible. Besides, I have my assignment. The admiral feels I would be setting a good example for the others if I take you on and impregnate you. To improve morale. Despite my less than military standing here, he feels as Archon I can help. Dylos is a good leader who wants what’s best for all.” He shrugged, as if he was talking about picking a place to buy socks rather than deciding my future as an alien womb. “So, we do what we have to.” He turned away, facing the other man, and their mumbled words were impossible to discern again. It was rather amazing I’d understood him so well, now that I thought about it. The chip had learned quickly.
Before I finished thinking that, the tall one turned. “I will return to my quarters shortly. You will have her moved there?”
“Yes, Archon.” So that was his name.
“Archon?” I called, still attempting to think of a way to change my fate, although I knew there was none.
“Vyraz,” he said.
“What?”
“Vyraz, that’s my name.”
“I-what is that other name then?”
“More of a job title, but, under the circumstances, I think you should just call me Master for the time being.”
“Master? When Hell freezes over.”
“Very good. I don’t know what this Hell is, but it sounds like a chilly place.”
“No,” I spluttered, fighting for freedom inside even if it probably didn’t show at all. “Hell is hot, and I meant I wouldn’t call you Master.”
“But you just did.” He nodded and left.
And I went into a hysterical frenzy, or at least as much as that was possible with only being able to move my eyes and lips. The tablet man clucked his tongue and approached with a device that resembled a gun. I screamed. He shushed me and pressed the barrel to my arm then squeezed the trigger.
The last thing I registered before things went dark—again—was the hiss of something penetrating my skin and the tablet guy’s shushing. I closed my eyes, praying this was all a horrible nightmare and I’d waken in my father’s home to the scent of coffee and the sounds of morning news on the screen in the living room.
Because if this was real, I’d gone from being chattel to being a person entirely without rights. If there was a difference.
Chapter Three
Vyraz
I headed to my quarters, strapped on my headset, and got back to work. I’d been envisioning the ancient scroll that made reference to an evil force called the Rydek, creating a virtual copy in my mind for Larissa to transcribe and enter into the database I’d been compiling.
I bore a heavy weight on my shoulders. My work was crucial to our civilization. Not just to discover how our ancestors had defeated the threat to our world in the past, but for another equally important reason. The history of our civilization, its literature, poems—the works of our greatest scholars and theologians—had been reduced to whatever I managed to retrieve from the recesses of my mind. The entire contents of the library in the fortress on Mt. Eris had been destroyed, along with the rest of my world.
The monks who raised me were long gone, of course. Their successors, the next generations of Holy Ones who were the learned scholars and keepers of the old ways, had all been killed when the evil force raided our planet, as were the other Archons. I alone had survived, only because I’d been on the solport, conducting an advanced training session for a battalion of warriors, the elite squad of the Arythian Starfleet.
When we got word of the massacre, my other skills were called upon. Grief counselor, therapist, empath. Archons played a complex role in Arythian society. On other worlds, we might have been looked upon as High Priests. But we were all warriors as well, trained to use our sensory talents to enhance our fighting skills.
The Arythian people were committed to a peaceful existence, honoring life in all its forms. We had not called upon our warriors to go into battle for nearly a millennium, relying on diplomacy to solve any conflicts that arose with other sentient species. But we were a practical race as well, and history had taught us the best way to ensure peace was to back it up with might. So we maintained a starfleet, trained our fighting force, and produced generation after generation of Archons, schooled from childhood in sword fighting, Tridacian wrangling, 10th echelon Paaliaq—every type of combat in the known universe.
I’d retired from active duty long ago to pursue my studies of the ancient manuscripts in the Fortress. But as the gods would have it, my fighting skills were the ones I’d employed most in the recent past. The warriors needed an outlet for their unbearable grief. I helped them channel it into action. They trained to the point of exhaustion and beyond, honing their formidable abilities and learning new ones. If not for Guryon, a hereditary warrior willing to take on any of them who needed to fight without holding back, and who could make sure nobody got hurt in the process, we’d have had even bigger problems.
Only recently had I been able to devote myself to my other task, the one I considered even more important to the future of our race. Along with my talents as Archon, I possessed a unique gift, that of total recall. I spent countless hours every sol envisioning the details of the ancient scrolls I’d studied over the years, recreating them in VR for Larissa. Not only did she record my translations of each one, she
copied them in the ancient script as well, so that future scholars could have the opportunity to use their own skills and find new interpretations of the archaic passages. That’s where I discovered an ancient reference to the Rydek, a destructive force that came from the heavens. I’d been looking for more information about it ever since, but so far there’d only been a few cryptic phrases that made little sense.
Try as I might to concentrate, the image that kept popping up on Larissa’s VR screen was that of a naked dark-skinned female with shocking-pink nipples and flowing purple-black hair, lying on a table fast asleep.
“I’ve recorded this particular image five times already, Archon,” she chided me. “Do you have additional data you want me to include with it?”
I sighed. “Delete them all, Larissa. And then halt.”
“Yes, Archon. Blessings and peace to you and all sentient beings in the Universe.” After repeating the time-honored words that served as both greeting and farewell for the Holy Ones, her disembodied voice faded away.
I ripped off the headset and tossed it on my work console then crossed the room and laid my palm on the wall adjoining my bedchamber. A portion of it vanished, leaving me staring at the same image I’d just erased. With one difference. This naked female was wide awake. And she had fire in her eyes.
“It’s about time you showed up. Release me,” she snapped, with the attitude of someone used to being obeyed.
I’d had years of dealing with brash young warriors, each one thinking his size and physical prowess entitled him to dictate the behavior of those around him. So, instead of delivering a lecture on who was Master here, I simply raised an eyebrow. “Or what?” I inquired mildly.
“Or I’ll…” Her voice died off as the reality of her situation hit home. For a moment, sheer panic replaced the fury in her eyes, but she reined it in.
I strolled into the room. Ran my gaze over her body, lying on the bed. She strained against The Controller then trembled with suppressed fury. “You can’t keep me here,” she declared. “My father is a very important man back on Earth. When he finds out I’m being held captive on an alien ship, he’ll see to it that our leaders bring the might of the Interstellar Federation down on you.”
Conquered Page 2