by Stella Cassy
I didn’t stop or look them in their big oval eyes, which didn’t blink as much as normal ones. Were their real eyes hidden behind those elaborate masks?
Dragon men. That was what they were pretending to be. They’d convinced a few women to follow them too. They couldn’t be actual dragons, but they weren’t stunt people either. Burgundy Guy had tossed those furries and the others around like soccer balls. On set, fighting always looked fake even when the cameras were off and actors were just rehearsing, no matter how realistic it looked in the final movie.
Burgundy Guy had injured, maybe killed, a lot of the other cosplayers like they were just extras from central casting and would take off their makeup and costumes to go home at the end of the day’s shoot just a little sore. For me. No man had done anything for me without wanting to advance his career, sleep with a star or worse. What did he plan to do with me?
He hadn’t been one of the mob. I would have noticed a tall burgundy man with wings towering over most in the crowd. While I was on his back, I was worried that if I didn’t hold on tight, I would fall and break every bone in my freaking body. Those wings sure felt real on him.
Despite my curiosity, I stayed far away from the middle of the room, worried that I would fall over the railing. As I pondered the burgundy dragon, I bypassed other hallways with what I assumed were more rooms with gigantic circular beds like the one I was in.
The further I walked, the more the goosebumps on my upper body decreased, so I just kept going until I reached a ramp—to the next level?
Staying a safe distance from the railing, I looped back around closer to the center of the room and then peeked down. The room swam as I looked at another level just like the one I was on. I stumbled back and took another lap around, bracing myself. As I neared the down ramp, I plunged down after a woman in green body art, looking straight ahead and keeping close to the center of the ramp, which was about ten feet wide but had no handrails. One push away from a wheelchair.
She looked behind her but didn’t stop or, more importantly, try to stop me. At the bottom, I walked past a purple cosplayer who looked like the woman who came to my room.
I forced myself not to look away when she met my eyes and said, “Hey,” which came out softer than I wanted. I cleared my throat.
She continued up the ramp. Maybe she didn’t hear me, or she wasn’t the same woman. The Talls clustered at the bottom of the ramp looked at each other and whispered. I wandered around looking at the closed charcoal doors until there was only one orange Tall left.
There was another transparent railing at the far end of the room. Another level? My instincts told me it wasn’t more of the same. Was there a pool down there? If so, it was twice the length of mine. Before I could chicken out, I rushed over there.
Peering down into the dark, I squinted at what looked like a big well or lagoon, not that I’d seen either in person. All I saw was dim light which looked similar to L.A. smog. Fire came to mind, but it didn’t feel hot or smell anything like it had when fire had come out of the “dragon’s” mouth.
I looked around for the elevator. There were no ramps, no doors. A dead end. I backed away.
From the ramp, an orange Tall raced past me. I yelped and flattened myself against the wall. He kept running and leapt up onto the railing. Wings furling out behind him, he yelled something and then dove. I didn’t see any support straps or harnesses. I didn’t wait to hear the splash or splat.
I retraced my steps to the ramp and darted back up. I dashed down one of the hallways. No more exploring.
Instead of the short dead end like the one near my room, this one continued into a maze of hallways branching left and right with walls of every shade of gray possible.
My legs ached as I wandered through the maze of hallways. Didn’t I just pass that black door? I took right and left turns randomly in an attempt to get back to the center. A room with tables and benches, which would require me to hop up on, lay ahead on the right. I passed by a few portals on the walls positioned too high for me to peek out.
I backtracked and went down another dark gray hall with low light. The further I went, the more it seemed like I was walking in a circle. I kept turning right until I reached another dead end with a large open doorway leading into a room of full of floor-to-ceiling blinking and flashing screens. A computer server room.
With their backs to me, four costumed people sat in front of the screens. Tails were coiled beneath their chairs, and shimmering wings stretched out behind them, as if they were relaxed. Green and purple colored males sat in opposite corners of the room. And there, in the middle of the group, sat Burgundy Dragon Guy To his right sat another man in black body paint.
Burgundy Dragon Guy had purple, green, and blue tattoos on his arms, hands, and his tail. His wine-colored wings brushed the floor. I kind of expected a dragon to be sitting there, even though nobody else seemed to be breathing fire. It sounded dangerous to be spreading fire around inside anyway, even if it was just special effects. Or did they do that in the pit, downstairs? I was just glad to see someone I knew. Someone who looked at me for more than a second. It was weird being treated like I was invisible, a nobody. I hadn’t felt like that since I was a kid. Did they even know who I was? Surely, they had to.
The one on the right with black body paint reared back in his seat and caught sight of me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the monitors. There were no gray walls in this room. In fact, there were no walls at all, just screens of Talls all over the “spaceship” and other spaceships outside—in space?
They really did look like spaceships.
Dozens of gray spaceships filled a wall-sized screen that wrapped around most of the room, just floating out there in the dark. In what really looked like space? The ships almost looked like something you’d find in the ocean, like gigantic oysters shut tight, busy making their pearls. But they were too cylindrical, too symmetrical to be organic. There was no technology that good. On earth.
Was this a computer room of rich crazies in a warehouse or was I actually in the cockpit of a spaceship?
4
Lehar
Captured
Her scent filled my nose even before she stepped inside the bridge. I could not imagine my Dragon not stirring at the sight or scent of the human.
I turned away from the diagnostic reports and faced her. My dragon did not stand down and the muscle between my lower limbs stirred even more. She bunched the human fabric of her garment in each of her hands and stared at the panoramic screens in the room.
I was not like some commanders, the way Tarion used to be before he mated with Carissa, who liked a slave or two nearby at his feet between his thighs, mouth and hands ready. What was I going to do with her solar in and solar out? The distraction might be enough to shorten my command. If I failed, gave my crew some reason to undermine my authority, my cousin would not hesitate to relieve me of my duties just as I would not, as any commander deserving rule of a Hielsrane fleet. I would plummet in rank, rung by rung, to the bottom of the Hielsrane hierarchy, where I’d remain ineligible to mate or sire a fledgling. What fertile female would choose me? No mate, no fledgling to carry my line. Living death.
“What do you require?” I asked.
She started and stepped backwards into the corridor.
I turned my back and studied her reflection in the screen. Her naked skin from neck to chest was smooth and unmarked unless her garment concealed marks of previous owners. Or was she one of the pampered ones, as her painted hand and foot talons suggested? She wore human clothing, lightly soiled but still intact.
Humans were the first slaves procured by the wealthiest. They seemed made for pleasure and brooding with all their pliant soft parts, which set the mind on all things carnal. Her loose garment held up only by her breasts begged to be pulled down. Perfect slaves’ garb planet side, but it was wrong for the ship, where even a slave needed to comply with Hielsrane’s dress code when outside chambers.
I loo
ked down at the digest of the ship’s diagnostic reports scrolling the screen. “Additional nourishment or hydration liquid?” I asked in a lowered voice than I did in my previous question.
No response. Then she shook her head. The ship’s translator matrix could not translate gestures. She really was mute. What would she do if I slipped my tongue inside her mouth? Would she remain silent still? I exhaled deeply. Why did I care? Was I disappointed? I had wondered what her human voice would sound like in comparison with the few others I had encountered.
“I'm not in Kansas anymore,” her soft voice whispered over my shoulder.
On the console, I flipped off my voice amplifier and spun my chair around. She wrapped her arms around herself.
“So you do speak.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Sure, I do.”
My dragon stirred and I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “You are aboard Hielsrane Two. Sit there if you are staying, little slave.” I gestured to the two emergency chairs flanking the entrance. She did not move.
Her mouth dropped open, her tiny pink tongue just visible and ready for mine.
Her mouth closed just as quickly as it opened, and her full lips flattened against her small white teeth. “Slave...”
“Yes, I did procure you from the Pax Alliance.”
“I don’t play a slave on screen or off.” She backed out the room.
“What in deathstars is wrong with the human?” I asked.
Dashel grunted and hunched over the controls. If anyone other than my bridge crew had been present, I would have had to remind her of the proper way to speak to her new captain.
Of course she was a slave. Mine. I had not bought her, but without my help, she would have been slave to another. How else would she have freed herself alone with her soft as a fledging talons and teeth? Despite her resistance, she could not have freed herself from a cage made of zarkienite metal.
I turned back to the screen with my fleet fully surrounding their mastership. The way I’d dreamed for too long. I reared back in my chair. In my dreams, the fleet had been bigger, and my title had been First Commander, not Second. At the top of Hielsrane, chartering the future of our bloodline in this galaxy. Instead, it was Tarion, not that he didn’t deserve it, but there could only be one First of Hielsrane and it would never be me unless he passed into legend.
“It’s a fine fleet.” Dashel’s voice broke into my thoughts.
“Yes.” I glanced at my nephew. Maybe Dashel would lead when his time came.
“Is there any sign of unrest planet side?” I was not worried about any repercussions from stealing the human away from the Pax Alliance. Nish’s leaders reluctantly mediated skirmishes at the markets.
“No.” Dashel nodded toward the security monitors. “Is your slave disoriented, Lehar?”
With arms crossed over her chest, eyes downcast, she skittered down a corridor off screen in the opposite direction of the bridge. Had she sensed my lust, left unquenched too long? Had I frightened her?
“Why do you inquire?” I glanced at the adjacent screen in time to see a flash of her garment headed in the direction of the sleeping chambers.
“She was just there and now she is back again.”
The human was lost.
“Was the tracker deactivated in her collar?” I asked. She had spoken to me for the first time since I acquired her. A smile formed on my lips. The Pax still did not know we had decoded their collars years ago.
“Yes, commander. By female crew, as instructed,” he said.
There was no protocol for personal slaves, as commanders would only infrequently have one on a mission. My crew was as loyal as I could expect them to be, as loyal as I could be, but our history together was short, more so for the newest members.
Dashel’s loyalty was unquestioned, but I did not need my new slave distracting my crew. At some point, as Tarion had warned me when I had sat Second by his side as eager as Dashel, the time would come when I would have to jettison a mutinous crew member from the airlock. Let that be many solars in the future.
“Assume first position.” I strode out of the room with Dashel’s chuckle at my back.
I looked up and down the corridor. I checked her chambers, an empty room down the hall from mine I’d assigned her. Empty. She wasn’t in the medical or nutrition bays either.
I continued to the recreational bay where a crew member who should have been on duty ran back to his post as soon as he saw me. I noted his crew number and summoned his Lead Crew to monitor and correct his insubordination.
“Commander, is there anything else I can assist you with?” First Crew said.
“No, resume,” I said and headed to the upper levels. What would my crew think if I couldn’t keep track of one slave? I had to go looking for her.
On the third level, near the cargo hold by the pedestrian exit, an upper crew member stood, wings spread feet apart, ears flared, his caudal stretched straight across the corridor for anyone to trip over.
“And what delicious species do you belong to?” The male leaned forward and snickered. “Are you a —” he grunted in a pain.
“Let me pass.” Her voice wobbled.
A roar rolled out of my throat.
The crew member dropped his hands from the wall and swung around, then stood up straight. “Sir.”
If I had spoken, my words might have turned to fire, damaging the ship and endangering my human. I whipped my caudal around and under his feet. He went down to his knees. Lara backed up against the pedestrian exit. He stayed on the floor, head bowed. “Apologies, Sir. She was near the exit, trying the manual locks. I did not know —”
In a voice much calmer than I thought myself capable of, I said, “You need to spend more time training in the rec bay. Your reflexes are below standard. Why were you blocking her way?”
“She surprised me,” he said. “I had not seen her before now and did not know who she belonged to.”
Only a commander could afford a human.
“So, you saw her collar?”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“Who other than I have credit to possess a slave?”
“No one, sir.” He spoke into the floor.
I extended my hand to Lara. After a slight hesitation she started my way slowly, then darted out of the corner, squeezed by him and ran toward me.
I let her come to me while I stabbed in an emergency communi-wide notification. Her hand trembled in mine, her eyes as wide as they had been when I’d freed her from the Pax. She had not yet recovered from the ordeal. I pulled her behind me.
Human female should be allowed to move freely in nonsensitive areas. Any concerns should be reported directly to Capt. Tarion. Any violation of this directive will result in termination of planet leave privileges and debit of credits at a minimum.
“Sir—”
“Gods of Drakon!” I turned back around to face the crew member. “Perhaps you would like to be a citizen of Nish or take a trip through the airlock? Utter another word and I’ll have your tongue for lunar repast.”
I stared down at the male at my feet and considered leaving him there for a solar. “Report to your First immediately. He has a special assignment for you.” I entered his crew number and instructions for him which would require every minute of his free time to complete if he wanted to see the outside of this ship for the next two planet leaves.
“Sir.” He shot to his feet, pivoted and marched off.
I turned around. The hall was empty. I ascended to the main level and headed in the direction of our rooms. I turned the corner and caught her in the middle of the corridor. “Slave!”
She stopped in her tracks and frowned. Her little mouth opened slightly but as usual, no words came out.
I pointed to the space in front of me. She turned away and kept walking up the corridor. Why did she not stop? Perhaps she had low vision and hearing.
. I strode down the corridor with purpose, annoyed that she was pulling me away from my duties. She look
ed behind her but kept going. Faster. I increased my pace. The next time she looked over her shoulder, I was within arm’s reach. I leaned forward to grab her. She broke into a run. Was she playing a game with me? Tarion never mentioned any human mating games, but then there were many things between him and his mate I was not aware of. I was sure Carissa had many human idiosyncrasies, too.
My pulse rate leapt the way it had when I freed her from the Pax’s cage. My stride doubled and she was again within reach. I clamped her against my chest with one arm, lifted her from the floor and blocked her tiny body from view of those watching to see how I would react. “My win, my little slave,” I whispered into her ear.
“Hey!” She kicked and screamed. “Put me down, right now!”
“Why did you run from me?” I put my other arm across her upper body so that she was immobile. Only her legs flailed in front of her and they soon only twitched. “Do you hear my crew behind us?”
She stilled and said, “So what?”
“They expect me to discipline you. Since I did not buy you, I won’t be out any credits if I toss you out of the airlock.” I barely kept the laughter from my voice.
Instead of acquiescence, she twisted and yelled, “Not playing this game with you freaks!”
“So, you were playing a game with me,” I said. “One I do not like.”
“No, you are. I want out of this warehouse.” She wrenched her hand free. One of her talons pricked the skin just under my talon.
The sting disappeared before my caudal lifted and slapped the floor. Gasps came from over my shoulder. I swore and bit back the rumble in my throat. Drops of blood coated her fingers. My blood, from one of my few tender spots.
“You bled. Orange.” She went limp in my arms, heaving like she might be sick or was dying. “I need to go home...” she said in a whisper. Some of her words were not translated because they were distorted, which reminded me of Matilda when she did not get her way.