by Ivy Barrett
Minister Nomani and the prime gatekeeper. Lorna repeated the names like a mantra, determined to imprint them on her brain.
They ate in relative silence, each spending more time looking out the window-wall than at each other. Lorna was so distracted by what she’d learned that she barely heard anything Tarn said. She liked to complain about the other Yashonty females, but Lorna had never met any of them, so it was hard to remember who she was talking about.
“Are you all right?” Tarn asked about halfway through the meal. “You haven’t eaten as much as I expected, and you’ve barely spoken.”
“I have a raging headache.” She glanced away and formed a guilty smile. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. My masters were particularly... demanding.”
Tarn chuckled. “I understand. Do you want to go back?”
She did, desperately, but didn’t want Tarn to tell Moxtel or Belton that they should check on her. “Food will help. I need to get the rest of this down.”
“All right. I’ll get you a fresh mug of tea.”
Lorna shoveled in several big bites while Tarn’s back was turned. If the transmission was detected, which was likely, this might be her last opportunity to eat for many hours. “Why did they call you lady? You’ve never asked me to use a title. Am I being rude?”
Tarn handed her the mug and moved to stand by the window, staring out into space. “My parents were quite wealthy. If I’d been able to bear children, I would have had half the males on the planet begging to be my protector.”
Shaking her head and taking her mug with her, Lorna joined Tarn by the window. “That’s really unfair. There is more to a female than her reproductive organs. You’re smart and compassionate, personable and—”
“I cannot assure my mate immortality. Without offspring, we are doomed to this one fleeting lifecycle. No fertile male is going to abandon his quest for a future because he thinks I’m ‘personable.’”
Lorna didn’t debate the concept. Belton had said the same thing, so obviously it was a widely held belief among the Yashonty. Lorna had always been torn about human teachings regarding the afterlife. She wasn’t sure she believed in a literal heaven and hell, but accepting that she was ‘doomed to this one fleeting lifecycle’ was too damn depressing to consider. The hope that there was something more, something better than war and devastation, was part of what helped her carry on.
“There are many sacred beliefs on Earth, not just one. Several share certain concepts that you might find interesting.”
Tarn’s white brows drew together, wrinkling her blue-black forehead, but curiosity sparked within her purple gaze. “In what way?”
“Most human religions believe in some form of an afterlife, and many not only accept but encourage conversion.”
“Conversion?” Tarn took a half-step back as if feeling threatened by the thought. “I’m not sure what that means.”
“Those born into the faith are allowed to convince others to join their belief system. Outsiders can become members, and as long as they abide by the religion’s rules, and accept their tenets, they will receive the promised rewards. Humans frequently switch from one faith to another, sometimes more than once over the course of their lives.”
“But I am not human.”
“I don’t think it matters,” Lorna assured her. “If a religion will accept someone from another country or another race, why would they refuse someone from another planet? It doesn’t specifically invite other species to join, but all of the sacred texts were written before humans knew that life existed on other planets.”
Tarn stared out the window for a few minutes. Lorna wasn’t sure if she had disregarded the possibility or was thinking about what it might mean to her. When Tarn finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “If I converted to a human religion, I might be able to continue on with the cycle of life?”
Even if all this did was give Tarn hope for something more, it would make this existence more bearable. Lorna saw no harm in it. The Yashonty belief system had obviously failed her. “There is a human belief called reincarnation or samsara. It is similar to how the Yashonty view life and death. The belief is fundamental to Hindu and Buddhism. I only have basic knowledge of each, but I think both allow converts. Do you think your master would allow you to research them?”
“I don’t need his permission.” Tarn raised her chin and spoke with more confidence. “Your internet has been incorporated into our central data stream, and I earned the right to access that a long time ago.”
“Great, then—wait. What did you say? Your people uploaded the entire internet? How is that even possible? Earth doesn’t have a central data stream. The internet is comprised of millions of different sources all over the planet.”
Tarn laughed. “Human technology is shockingly primitive. The Protectorate knew everything there is to know about Earth long before you knew they were there. That’s where we got the information, of course. We stole it from the Ventori.” Tarn turned back to the window with a shrug. “Most of the information I’ve accessed is utterly pointless. Why did humans waste so much time attacking the opinions of others? Just because someone disagrees with you, it doesn’t mean they are evil. It makes your species seem incredibly superficial.”
Lorna looked away, unable to disagree and ashamed to realize she had been an active participant in the pettiness. “All that changed with the arrival of the Skarilians. Global devastation has a way of resetting priorities.”
Tarn sighed, then lightly touched Lorna’s arm. “This room is reserved for some time to come, but I am anxious to look into these concepts. Do you mind if I take you back to your masters’ cabin?”
“Not at all. I really do need to lie down.” The excuse tasted bitter, but this time it wouldn’t affect Tarn in any way. The information had come from the Melmons, so Tarn was in the clear.
The walk back seemed to go on forever. Lorna used the time to organize her thoughts into concise bullet points. But the time they reached the cabin, Lorna was optimistic that she could rattle off the information in less than thirty seconds. That was the length of a single transmission pulse, and keeping it to one pulse greatly decreased the chances that the transmission would be noticed.
“Thank you for breakfast, and getting me out of that cabin,” she told Tarn as the door rolled open. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better company.”
“If this reincarnation is as intriguing as you’ve indicated, I will forgive that and much more.”
Lorna smiled and stepped inside, waving as the door rolled shut. She waited a minute or two, wanting to be sure Tarn had nothing more to say, then retrieved the tiny signal booster from its hiding place above the workstation. As before, she sat at the table, the credit-card–thin device in her hand, but hesitated to activate it.
Was this even necessary? Moxtel had insisted that Brianne was safe and on her way back to Lorna. What he hadn’t said was what would happen when she arrived. Would they both be released and returned to Earth or would Brianne be claimed by whoever was next on the officer rotation? And what about the other captives, hundreds of them? This situation might appeal to Lorna’s darker sexual needs, but it wasn’t something she wanted to do indefinitely. Submitting in the bedroom was one thing, but she’d known freedom too long to tolerate literal slavery.
If anyone detected the transmission, she would be severely punished. She shivered. Belton had fucked her virgin ass roughly and without much preparation. What could be worse than that? Her insides clenched, and she covered her mouth with her hand. It was a ridiculous question. There was a multitude of things that would be worse. The question was, would Moxtel or Belton be willing to do them to her? Despite their sexual aggression and occasional flashes of cruelty, they hadn’t harmed her, hadn’t ever drawn blood or caused serious damage. Moxtel enjoyed inflicting painful spankings, and Belton often used brutal pleasure to drive them both crazy. This time would likely be nothing but pain and humiliation. Even so, this had to be done. Briann
e’s ‘rescue’ didn’t solve the problem, not even close.
Desperately hoping this information was worth the risk, she activated the booster and its built-in transmitter. She practiced her verbal bullet points as the booster initialized. When the indicator light blinked on, she quickly sent the message, immediately deactivating the booster once the transmission was complete. Wasting no time, she returned the device to its hiding place and grabbed her datasheet off the table. She sat on the padded bench and pretended to read while she frantically prayed that some benevolent deity would let her get away with this second act of betrayal.
* * *
Moxtel fidgeted on the backless chair as his gaze swept the frustratingly incomplete data one last time. His shift was almost over, and he was no closer to understanding the Ventori transformation process than he had been when Vikrin gave him the information four days ago. Ram had already accepted Vikrin’s proposal, so the prime gatekeeper would fill in the blanks as soon as they found a suitable planet for the Tavorian refugees. Still, the unanswered questions were driving Moxtel crazy.
The possibility of finding and/or creating additional life-bringers was staggering. Every Yashonty male who had joined the ‘rebellion’ had run out of other options. The Ventori might consider them rebels, but the Yashonty were on a holy quest. They’d given up on traditional life and were prepared to sacrifice themselves for the fallen. It was a proud and honorable death. It was also the only death that didn’t require retaliation, so the cycle of vengeance would be broken, freeing the survivors to live out their lives in peace.
Releasing a heavy sigh, Moxtel deactivated the holo-display. He was alone in the science lab as he’d been most of the week. His mood was particularly dark, so most were wisely avoiding him. Belton had confronted him twice about his shitty attitude, but Moxtel wasn’t ready to accept that any female had this much power over him. Everyone, Moxtel included, knew Lorna was the cause of his irritability, but no one understood why he was reacting to her so negatively.
The answer was simple. He was in the grip of bonding fever. Every cell in his body urged him to pin her beneath him and stay deep inside her soft, wet pussy until she accepted him as one of her mates. His eltreenis called out for its eternal partner, the energy it traveled with through the ages. But his elreenis was wrong. It had to be. He was a scientist. He understood Yashonty biology well enough to know that mating with any other species was impossible.
If he allowed himself to believe in fables, the disappointment would be devastating. When month after month Lorna failed to conceive, he would grow more frustrated, and she would learn to hate him even more than she did now. Besides, offspring might be every Yashonty’s fondest wish, but all the captives wanted was freedom. If Lorna ever conceived, it would make his dreams come true. Yet according to Yashonty law, it would also force him to free her.
The contradiction was terrifying.
He reactivated the display and navigated to a different report. This one was much simpler than the one that had taken up so much of his time. It contained a single line of information, yet it had potentially changed his world. Lorna’s blood type. As he’d suspected, Lorna’s blood lacked rhesus, the antigen found on the red blood cells of most humans. This antigen was highly toxic to alien races. Ventori simulations confirmed that the toxicity was consistent among a multitude of species, but the actual transformation had only been done to accommodate Ventori DNA. Vikrin claimed the process was easily recoded, but the actual outcome was still theoretical.
Lorna had been born without the protein, so she was more likely to give birth to a live hybrid. What Moxtel had been unable to ascertain was whether or not she would be able to conceive with a Yashonty male. Vikrin also claimed the Ventori transformation vastly increased the chances of pregnancy. Still, Lorna had triggered Moxtel’s and Belton’s mating instincts without the series of injections needed for targeted mutation. It was all very confusing.
He closed the file with a frustrated swipe and pushed back from his workstation. He wanted to believe he and the ones he cared about could move beyond this blood-drenched existence. Yet he wasn’t sure he’d survive if they tried and failed. Maybe it was better to accept things as they were.
Yet, the changes in Belton were undeniable. His gaze was filled with life again. He smiled and occasionally laughed. Lorna had freed that in him. And she’d do it for Moxtel too. If he stopped battling the emotions she unleashed inside him. He’d been miserable for so long, lost and numb from endless death and the futile pursuit of a seemingly unstoppable enemy. Then he saw Lorna, touched and tasted her, and life began again. Could he really risk the comfort of her soft giving body by allowing emotions to—
The door buzzed, indicating someone wishing to enter.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
“Privacy protocols are active, Magister,” the computer reminded him. “Shall I admit the visitor?”
Pivoting toward the door without standing up, he asked, “Who’s out there?”
“Communications Officer Larsttin.”
That couldn’t be good. “Let him in.”
Larsttin looked up and down the corridor before ducking into the lab. His paranoid behavior made Moxtel even more uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I hope.” He adjusted his uniform top, looking even more anxious than Moxtel felt. “You told me to notify you if I noticed any more anomalous signals. I saw this... blip on my routine scans this morning. It was a fast, nondescript spike, and it didn’t happen again, so I had pretty much dismissed it as some sort of static.”
“But?” Moxtel prompted impatiently. Larsttin wouldn’t be here if there weren’t more to it than that.
“But it bothered me enough to investigate, sir. I ran comprehensive scans and all sorts of diagnostics, but couldn’t figure out what had caused the surge. Finally, I ran a—”
“For the love of fuck, get to the point! Do you know what you detected or not?”
The young officer clasped his hands behind his back and tried to look brave as he explained, “I don’t know what caused it, but it was definitely an outgoing transmission, and it came from your cabin, sir.”
“Unbelievable!” Moxtel shot to his feet and kicked his chair out of the way.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Larsttin scurried out of Moxtel’s way as he stormed toward the door. “I just did what you—”
Moxtel stopped in front of the younger male and took a deep breath. “I’m not angry with you. Thank you for coming to me first. Did you tell anyone else?”
“No, sir. Not yet. But the commander will want to know.”
“Of course, and I’ll tell Ram—after I’ve dealt with my female.”
“As you wish, Magister Lark.” Larsttin stayed well back as Moxtel left the lab.
Moxtel moved through the corridor in a haze of anger, frustration, and pain. He’d been so damn close to trusting that disloyal bitch! She blinded him with pretty smiles and her warm wet cunt, led him around by the dick while she passed on information to only the Gods knew who. They’d already punished her for this once. Clearly, she had not learned her lesson.
Calming himself enough to access his telepathic link with Belton, he snarled, We’ve got a serious problem. Head to our cabin, now!
On my way. Enough emotion accompanied the telepathic communication that Belton didn’t ask questions.
Belton had just turned into the hallway as Moxtel reached the door, so he waited to open it until they both stood in front of the portal. “You better deal with this. I’m so godsdamn angry I can’t see straight.”
“What’d she do now?” Belton’s expression mixed trepidation and disappointment.
“Same fucking thing as before,” he snarled. “ET phoned home.”
The human reference made Belton smile, but his gaze remained shadowed and sad.
Moxtel scanned the door open and followed his cousin into the room.
“Hey.” Lorna lay on the bench in t
he main living space, knees drawn up, head resting on a pillow. She had a datasheet propped against her upraised legs. When they didn’t return the greeting, she sat up and swung her feet to the floor, setting the datasheet aside. “Was your day that bad? You two look ready to kill someone.”
“It is against Yashonty law to murder body-slaves,” Belton snapped with such vehemence that it shocked Moxtel. Belton hadn’t even looked angry, just devastated. “But that won’t save you from the most severe punishment of your life.”
“Why?” she cried, eyes wide and innocent. “I’ve been obedient and respectful to both of you.”
Her expression was masterful, but Moxtel felt the surge of panic hidden behind the skillful mask. His hands folded into fists.
“You know damn good and well why we’re angry,” Belton told her. “Give me the device, and I’ll consider reducing your punishment. Slightly.”
“No,” Moxtel stressed. “She has been punished for this already. There will be no mercy tonight. Get the device or devices, all of them, right now, or we will add to the severity of the discipline already awaiting you.”
Like a costume, her passivity fell away. Her shoulders squared, and she moved her feet farther apart. She was wearing an oekinaut, the traditional garment of comfort-givers, not body-slaves. Obviously, she’d seen Tarn again. “And take off Tarn’s garment. You have lost the privilege of covering yourself.”
She started to reach for the belt, then stopped and lowered her hands to her sides. “You know why I’m here. I’ve never lied to you about my goals.”
Provoked beyond endurance, he lunged past Belton and tore the offending garment from her body, then forced her to her knees. “If you behave like a disobedient slave, you will be treated like one.”
Her gaze remained averted, but she didn’t lower it to the floor. “It’s been four days, Master.” The emphasis she put on his title was blatantly sarcastic. “If you arranged Brianne’s release, where the fuck is she?” She didn’t raise her voice, but challenge rang through every syllable.
