by Eric Thomson
She dragged him through what seemed like kilometers of crowded cobblestone streets. Tanira was a lively city, more animated than most Decker had seen, and smelly. As they neared the city center, the houses became richer and more gaudily decorated, just as the Itrulans seemed better dressed. But the stench of excrement and rotting meat remained.
Many of the wealthy inhabitants made their way across town on the backs of long-legged, nervous-looking reptiles that bore more than a passing resemblance to Earth's prehistoric velociraptors. Zack also saw Itrulans with steel collars around their necks and dressed in the drab livery of indentured servants. He squeezed Raisa's hand to stop her stately progress through the throngs.
“What are those sad sacks with the collars?” He asked, already suspecting the answer.
“Slaves. The Itrulan economy depends heavily on slavery in many areas, such as mining, forestry and agriculture. And of course, household work in the wealthier mansions.”
“I knew I didn't like this place for a reason.”
“Consider it this way, Zack. When your planet was in its Middle Ages, about the same era as these people are, was there no slavery? Were your ancestors not exploiting the labor of others?”
That stopped him cold in his tracks.
“I guess you're right. I'm seeing this place through the eyes of a twenty-sixth-century human, not a pre-gunpowder Itrulan. Lesson well taken, Professor Darhad.” He smiled mischievously. “Is or was there slavery on your home world?”
She laughed.
“An Arkanna in captivity is a very dangerous thing.” Her talons briefly dug into Zack's hand, reinforcing the point. “No. There never was such a thing. A rarity in the known galaxy, I believe. And before you ask, no, the Itrulans don't use off world captives as slaves. At least not as heavy labor. If there are any, they're kept as pets by wealthy nobles. Most other space faring species don't have the brute strength this planet requires.”
They resumed walking and Raisa led him around a corner onto a large plaza.
The Akmin's palace filled Zack's field of vision with gracefully sculpted rose, green and blue spires, smooth, curved ramparts and pointy watchtowers. A keep within a keep. But in contrast to the rest of Tanira, the palace exuded an otherworldly grace and culture absent from the typical Itrulan architecture. Zack was impressed and said so.
“I am glad you enjoy the sight, Zack,” Raisa replied, smiling. “Unfortunately, we cannot visit the interior which, I am told, is magnificent. The only commoners ever invited inside are those condemned to suffer the punishments of the Akmin's executioner. I understand he enjoys devising and carrying out novel ways of killing off his less desirable subjects. The plaza here is also used for public executions, of which there are several each week. Not today, however.”
“Thank God,” Decker muttered in disgust.
“The Itrulans don't value life as strongly as you humans. Perhaps it comes from producing so many young to see only a few survive to adulthood. A common problem among egg-laying species.”
“Now that we've seen the beast, what’s next?”
“I propose we refresh ourselves. It's almost time for the evening meal and I know a comfortable inn where we can spend a few hours of enjoyment.”
Nine
They went back the way they came, retracing their steps for a few hundred meters. As Raisa led Zack onto a narrower side street, the small hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Someone was watching him again.
Did the unknown watchers have anything to do with the mysterious, inscribed Master Gunner's badge, and with Shokoten's smuggling? He wondered, shaking his head in annoyance while concentrating on dodging the throngs of reptilian humanoids as he followed Darhad, tugged along by her warm hand.
Soon, he found he also had to focus on memorizing the twists and turns they took to reach her 'place of enjoyment.' As on Pradyn, the Arkanna seemed to have an intimate knowledge of the alien city. Whether it was instinct left over from her predatory forebears or simply an innate ability was something Zack couldn’t figure out.
After what he figured was almost two kilometers, she stopped beneath a subdued sign in Itrulan that the gunner couldn't decipher to save his life.
“We have arrived, Zack. The Rasstaszykar.”
“Sounds like an exotic disease or a Kardati tribesman's sneeze.”
She chuckled at Decker's dry tone.
“It means Heaven's Bliss in Itrulan. Come.” Darhad pushed aside the bead curtain and led him into the cool, exotic antechamber of the inn with the improbable name. A scent of burning sandalwood, or whatever it was on this planet, tickled his nostrils while his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“Heaven's Bliss,” Decker muttered, shaking his head as he followed her. “Didn't know they had a concept of heaven here. The bastards are all destined for hell, the way I figure it.”
They entered a large room already filling with the evening's patrons: Itrulans of all colors and sizes as well as alien humanoids from two dozen Protectorate worlds.
A broad raised dais ran along the room's four stone walls, enclosing a central wooden floor. Stone pillars rose from the edges of the pit to the dark, smoky ceiling two meters above Zack's head. Large windows, covered with intricately carved wood screens pierced three of the four walls.
The dais was separated into many cubicles by half-height wood panels depicting various scenes of Itrulan life, none of them involving the mayhem and murder Decker had come to expect from the reptilians. Inside those cubicles, large cushions and low settees were grouped around equally low stone tables.
A subdued hum of conversation filled the room as did a pleasant aroma of cooking food and the unmistakable scent of fermented sugars.
Darhad took him to a side cubicle from where they had a clear view of the door to the outside as well as the one leading to the inn's back rooms. With a graceful yet controlled movement, she settled down on a large, burgundy red cushion and smiled up at him. Zack shrugged, feeling somewhat foolish, sat on the other cushion, at right angles with the Arkanna, and stretched out. Their heads almost touched and Zack inhaled her musky, pheromone-laden scent. She smiled.
An Itrulan wearing a leather apron sauntered up and bared his teeth in a parody of a human smile. He hissed and gurgled a question in his language, looking expectantly from Darhad to Decker. The gunner grinned and shrugged.
“Sorry, pal. I don't speak your language. Not sure I could master those sounds.”
Then his eyes widened as Raisa Darhad spat out a lengthy reply in the same hissing, guttural tones as the reptilian. The innkeeper nodded and walked off.
“Impressive. How many languages can you speak?”
“Not that many. I have mastered Anglic and two others among the human languages, and can speak decent Shrehari, Itrulan, Pradyni, and Vorkaz, and understand a smattering of other Protectorate or Shield tongues.”
“No shit! When do you have time for fun?”
“Sleep readers helped me quite a bit.”
“Lucky you,” he replied, shaking his head. “I never could manage the things. They gave me awful headaches every time, and not much to show for it.”
“It seems to affect a large proportion of all humans, I believe.”
“But not Arkanna?”
“It appears not. But then, I am hardly a representative sample of my people.”
Zack bit back a reply he was sure he would regret.
Think talons and teeth.
“What did you order for us?” He asked instead.
“Ah,” she smiled, raising a slender, white finger. “Wait and see.”
She settled back and let her impossibly blue eyes roam across the room, scanning for possible threats or opportunities.
The leather-aproned waiter returned bearing a wooden tray with two metallic mugs which he carefully deposited on the stone table. He bared his teeth at the Arkanna and her human companion and left. Darhad took one and brought it to her lips.
“Itrulan fire-ale, Zack. Not as go
od as the best Shrehari brews, but it has a character all of its own. This place serves the best in the city. Your health.”
Decker took the other mug and looked at its foamy, dark contents.
“Fire-ale, huh? Sounds interesting. Your health, Raisa.” He took a sip, his face lighting up in surprise and delight.
“Wow,” he smacked his lips, “this stuff is unique all right. Cold as space and fiery as antimatter. I'd hate to think what it does to your gullet.”
Darhad smiled.
“I don't know about human gullets, as you call them, but I know that fire-ale is considered a potent brew by Itrulans, one that rouses the blood.”
“Sort of like oysters?”
She frowned, puzzled. “What are oysters?”
“Never mind, Raisa, forget it.” Decker grinned and looked away. He took another sip of ale, unwilling to pursue this tack. If she was merely teasing him, it would make things worse. If she was on to something else, he'd rather it happen later than sooner, even if he was finding self-control a much harder business the longer he stayed close to her.
He had made a big dent in his fire-ale by the time the waiter returned bearing a platter heaped with exotic food. The other customers had proven uninteresting after a few moments' observation. Fortunately, Shrehari did not seem to patronize the inn and Zack gave thanks for the small blessing.
He examined the plates covering the table and gave Raisa a questioning look.
“Most of this food should be digestible by humans,” she said. “Your metabolism and mine are quite similar, and I know from experience that I don't suffer from any unpleasant reactions.”
Decker’s eyes narrowed at her comment on the similarity of their metabolisms. When he looked at Darhad again, he caught the same amused smile as before, the one that seemed to mean she knew what he was thinking. If so, he didn't care.
He reached for a spoon and ladled purplish, weed-like vegetable on his beaten bronze plate. It didn't smell unpleasant, rather like seaweed. After a moment's hesitation, he took a bit of everything, trying hard not to speculate what it was, especially the stuff that looked like a mass of small snakes or worms. But the aroma rising from the food was much better than its appearance.
Darhad had already started to eat, chewing each mouthful with obvious delight. Zack closed his eyes as he took his first bite of the purple stuff. Fighting back his gag reflex he bit down and an explosion of sweet and sour erupted over his tongue.
Hey, this stuff is not bad. Now I really don't want to know what it is. Might spoil the fun.
He washed the first mouthful down with a healthy swig of fire-ale, emptying his mug in the process. His eye caught that of the innkeeper across the room, and he raised the cup above his head, in the universal signal for another of the same. The Itrulan waiter did not keep him waiting for long. Fortified by a new supply of drink, Zack tried the other unidentifiable foods with less trepidation.
Between the two of them, Darhad and Decker cleaned off the table, mopping up the last pieces with chunks of thick, nutty Itrulan quasi-bread that tasted something like smoked almonds.
A thin trickle of meat juices escaped Raisa's lips and ran down her chin. Zack, emboldened by the fire-ale, reached over, and wiped off the gravy with his finger, starting at the tip of her chin and ending at her lips.
Her tongue snaked out to lap-up the offered juices. Before he could pull his finger away, she gave him a playful bite with her sharp teeth, drawing blood. Smiling, she licked off the blood and settled back onto her cushion, looking sated. Something at the back of Zack's mind told him he'd just been the victim of an Arkanna mating ritual, and the few drops of his blood on her tongue had tripped a delicate biological switch.
A booming drum broke the spell and Decker turned his attention to the central pit. It now held a small orchestra and a string of veiled Itrulans. The large drum, accompanied by several of its smaller cousins, began throbbing rhythmically, sending vibrations through the gunner's body.
The five veiled Itrulans, Zack assumed they were female although the reptilian humanoids had no visible gender differences he could see, started to dance to the music. They swayed gracefully, arms and legs in unison.
A pair of wind instruments joined the drums, underscoring and enhancing the pounding beat of the dance, mesmerizing the inn's patrons as the dancers moved in more and more intricate patterns.
Astonished at this unknown side of Itrul, Decker discovered an alien beauty in the music and the movements. For a long and heated moment, the gunner forgot his dislike of the species, forgot the bloody battles he'd fought against them and forgot the insults he'd used against their race. This was a side of Itrul no Commonwealth Marine had ever seen.
The pounding rhythm swelled, soared and filled the inn with its magic as the dancers swirled around each other, their speed increasing as they trailed their long yellow veils behind them. Zack glanced at Raisa and their eyes met. The contact was electric.
Her face shined with perspiration in the light of the torches. Her lips parted as her breasts lifted due to rapid breathing. Whether it was the fire-ale or the music, Zack didn't care anymore. He could read arousal in a woman whether Arkanna or human. Reaching over, he touched her smooth cheek with the back of his hand. She took it in hers and brushed it against her parted lips, licking the tips of his fingers. Zack feared another bite, but she kissed his palm, her breath warm in his hand. By now, Decker knew he was beyond the limits of self-control.
She too seemed to have crossed a critical threshold. With the same restrained movements as before, she rose, took him by the hand, and led him towards the back door. None of the other customers paid them any attention.
The pounding of the music followed them through the bead curtain and down the clean, bare corridor, where the scent of burning wood washed away the thick, sensual atmosphere of the main room. Raisa took him up a flight of stairs and, after a quick search, pulled him into a small room, throwing the wooden door shut behind her.
“You seem well organized.” Zack's tone was hoarse. “As if you planned this.”
“I always plan well when I stalk my lovers,” she replied. “You are the only worthy warrior on the ship, the first male I wish to bed in many years.”
The gunner didn't have time to reply as she wrapped her arms around his neck, molding her body against his, and kissed him with a passion surprising for the cold, efficient first officer he knew.
Her tongue found his and danced its own mating dance while her hands explored Decker's hard, muscular body beneath his clothes. Finally, she broke loose and undressed him, eyes burning, an unaccustomed blush coloring her cheeks. Zack breathed in deeply as his body responded to the pheromone-laden air. She pushed him down onto the wooden bed, and Zack devoured her smooth, muscular, hairless body with his eyes as she straddled him.
Definitely compatible plumbing.
It was his last coherent thought before he abandoned himself to the moment.
*
Later, when the light of Itrul's twin moons streamed through the open window, Zack and Raisa made love again, but this time with less urgency.
Decker marveled at her smooth, warm skin as he caressed her, appreciating every curve, every nook, and every fold as he ran his mouth over her body, tasting her as he had never tasted a woman before. His fear of her teeth and talons had been entirely misplaced: Arkanna had a built-in reflex to keep them from harming their mates.
They spoke little, and she contented herself with growling Arkanna endearments, or obscenities for all Zack knew, into his ears.
*
The first rays of sunlight tickled Zack's nose, and he opened his eyes, tired but relaxed, at peace. Beside him, the bed was empty but still warm. His eyes focused to take in the room, and he saw Raisa standing by the window, stretching and savoring the clean morning air.
“Good morning, Zack,” she smiled, alerted by the change in his breathing as he woke. “I trust you had a pleasant sleep.”
“Sleep n
o,” he replied, grinning, “but pleasant, definitely. And I feel more of that coming up.”
“I was wondering whether human males liked it in the morning.” Still smiling, she climbed back into bed.
*
A short while later, they parted, but Raisa’s voice held a tinge of regret.
“Unfortunately, we must leave soon. I have retained the room only for the night, and the captain will expect us on board by noon when our liberty expires.”
“And on board ship, no hanky-panky?”
She shook her head.
“It would be inappropriate. We will have to wait until we are on liberty again.”
“Too bad. A guy could get used to you real fast.”
“The sentiment is mutual. You are the first male I have wanted in a long time, and not only because I am attracted to your body, though it is as fine as any Arkanna alpha’s. You have a strong spirit I admire.”
“Same here.” Zack was surprised to realize that he meant it. Raisa Darhad had been more than just a toss in the sheets, something that happened rarely.
She dressed, putting on blouse, skirt and her over-the-knee black boots. When she was done, she opened the room’s wooden door and yelled something in Itrulan down the stairway.
“Breakfast,” she said, her eyes caressing Decker as he dressed.
*
Back in his cabin aboard Shokoten, Zack Decker smiled as he undressed and examined the bite and scratch marks on his chest and arms. His nostrils still held Raisa Darhad's scent, and he stepped into the shower before the memories of the past night became too vivid.
He was tired but happy by the time he put on his uniform. As he sat by his desk to pull on his boots, he remembered the badge he'd hastily tossed into one of the drawers. The memory dampened his contentment.
Zack disliked mysteries, in particular those that could land him into deep trouble. This looked like one of them. He opened the drawer and took out the insignia, holding it between his fingers, a thoughtful frown on his face.
Then, for a reason he couldn't explain, he pinned the little gold badge to the right breast of his jacket, at the spot he'd wear it on his Marine uniform. He rose just as the cabin door slid open.