by Stella Cassy
I stiffened, trying to adopt a commanding tone of disapproval. “Doctor, I'm well aware of your credentials and I'm prepared to give your—shall we say, unorthodox manner some leeway. But I don't find those kinds of jokes particularly amusing.”
“I know you don't, and I know why,” he replied dismissively. “Your mate. Giliu Syndrome. Very tragic. Permission to speak freely, Captain?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You mean you haven't been up until now?”
“You seem like a good man. You might even be a good warrior, though it's not for me to say. But I've spent all of ten cleks with you, and I can already tell you're deeply insecure about your first command, not to mention so germophobic you're practically paralyzed by it. You've just seized control of a planet but keeping control of it will be another matter entirely, and there's a ship full of Hielsrane looking to you for leadership. If I can smell the fear on you, so will they – so I suggest you show some backbone, quickly, before you fail everyone on board and bring disgrace to the entire fleet.”
I couldn't believe his audacity. “Is that all?”
“For the moment,” Stal replied, slinging his medical kit over his shoulder. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere.”
Stal left, and I headed toward the makeshift brig I'd had set up for the human woman, pondering his words. He was blunt nearly to the point of malice, and what he'd said to me had stung plenty, but I knew he was right. If I was going to impress anyone with the results of my first command, I figured I'd better make a more convincing show of being unflappable.
Before I reached the room with the cell, Ranel caught up with me.
“What's the situation on the surface?” I asked.
“Not ideal,” he rumbled. “We've got N-7 locked down tight, and the drop-shuttles have managed to take N-2 and N-6 as well. The others are proving...problematic.”
“They're fighting back?”
“The opposite, actually. They must have received an emergency transmission from the N-7 overseer before we scrambled their communications array. They've gone to ground. Vanished. Some of the Pax left slaves behind, while others appear to have massacred them on the way out, probably so we couldn't have them. Bottom line? We were prepared for barrages and firefights to subdue them, but a siege? Insurgents? Much trickier.”
“What are the chances they'll be able to mobilize against us?”
Ranel shook his head. “Uncertain. If they're able to cobble together a rudimentary comm net, they could meet up, form resistance cells, and start fighting back from the rocks and shadows. Our mission just got a hell of a lot more complicated, Captain.”
I sighed, irritated. This was the last thing I needed. “I suppose we'd better hope the human we captured has information we can use. Do you want to come in and conduct the debriefing with me? You're more imposing, and you already threatened her down on the colony, so she might be more afraid of you.”
Ranel crossed his large arms over his chest, smirking. “Good thing there are no other crew members around, or they'd know this was your first interrogation. Haven't you ever heard of the sugarfruit and the voltstick?”
“No, but I suppose you're about to tell me.”
He sighed, indicating that I was a hopeless case but that he'd magnanimously waste time explaining it to me anyway. “The farmers on the Gruulian moons use pack-beasts called Skulfurs to drag their heavy ploughs. Skulfurs are big and strong; the problem is, they're also stubborn and stupid.”
“Kind of like you.”
Ranel ignored my joke at his expense, as he so often did. “Sometimes, the farmers can coax the animals to pull the plows by rewarding them with sugarfruits. But when that doesn't get results, they jab their voltsticks into the creatures' fleshy hindquarters to shock them into doing what they're told. The point is, if one doesn't work, the other certainly will.”
“And I'm supposed to glean what, exactly, from that analogy?”
“You're the sugarfruit. You're the one who saved her from my wrath, remember? She might be inclined to relax with you, to give up any valuable information without resisting. And if she doesn't...”
“Then I jab you into her fleshy hindquarters?” I guessed.
He grinned, showing all of his sharp teeth. “In a manner of speaking. I'll be watching the interview over the vidscreen, so I'll know how to play it if – or rather, when – I need to intervene.”
Now it was my turn to shake my head. “Thank you for the offer, but you're my second in command, and you've got more important work at hand than babysitting me. If I need you to question her later, you can watch the recording of my interview. But for right now, the best use of your skills is continuing to remotely command our drop-shuttles as they try to pacify the remainder of the colonies. Based on what you've told me, that won't be easy, and your expertise on military tactics against insurgents will be valuable.”
Ranel's smile turned into a scowl. “It wasn't an 'offer,' Dashel. You're right – bringing the other camps to heel won't be easy, and we need to know what this human woman knows, which is why we can't afford to botch this debriefing.”
“And my response wasn't a polite rejection, Ranel, it was an order.” My voice hardened. “In case you've forgotten, I'm the captain of this ship, and what I say goes. You wanted me to take charge? Stal wanted me to show more backbone? Fine. You will obey my commands, or I will prepare another makeshift brig right next to hers and have you thrown in it. Is that understood?”
He was taken aback – and he seemed almost impressed, though he was trying not to show it. He gave me a small bow, then turned and marched off.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. No time for that now, I reminded myself, and slapped the entry panel next to the room we'd arranged for our prisoner.
5
Natalie
I'd been a prisoner of one kind or another my entire life. During all that time, I'd learned that the best thing a prisoner could do to increase the odds of her own safety was to observe everything— every detail of her surroundings and captors, as closely as humanly possible.
My first and most immediately evident observation wasn't particularly comforting: The room I was being kept in wasn't originally designed for prisoners. From the general layout and the patterns of the bolts and fixtures on the walls, not to mention the acrid chemical smells hanging in the air, its intended function was almost certainly as a supply room – a glorified janitor's closet. They'd hastily removed the cleaning equipment and shelves, and on the way in, I saw that they had wired a force field to the access panel, rigging the projector units to the frame just inside the doorway. These field projectors were commonly used in emergencies which involved hull breaches to prevent the cold vacuum of space from rushing in and swallowing everyone aboard.
It was a crude setup, but unfortunately, it would be effective enough to keep me in the room.
All that, though, was just a more elaborate way of stating the obvious: If they had to make a special cage to hold me, that meant taking prisoners wasn't usually their style. Which meant even if I could tell them what they wanted to know – and odds were, I wouldn't be able to – they most likely wouldn't be keeping me around long afterward.
Which meant I had to stall for time. But how?
That led me to my next set of observations. Specifically about the dragon-man who ordered me taken from the camp and kept up here. The one called Ranel was about to hurt me, but the handsome one who was clearly the leader – despite the fact that he looked younger – told him not to. Did he want to extract information from me as he said? Yes, almost certainly. But to do that, he only needed me alive, not unharmed.
So, was he only interested in what I might be able to tell them? Or was there another reason he wanted me in one piece?
I'd seen plenty of males look at me with lust before. As a slave, it was just a normal part of life, to be either ignored or used to my advantage depending on the situation. I'd never met one
of these dragon people before, but still, the basic principles seemed to apply. There was something in his manner, something in his eyes, that told me I might be able to successfully seduce him. That, in turn, might give me an opening I could use to escape. Maybe I could find a way down to the surface, locate the Pax embedded there, and help them fight these Hielsrane off.
It seemed like a long shot, but it was definitely my best chance. I'd started my life as a lowly slave at the bottom of the pile, and I'd worked too hard for too long to start over as someone's property to be commanded and abused, instead of seen as a valued worker.
These were the thoughts that swirled in my brain as I heard someone access the door's outer panel. It retracted into the wall, revealing the man I'd identified earlier as the leader. He regarded me warily for a moment, then deactivated the force field and stepped in, tapping a code into the access panel to lock it behind him.
Now that I was even closer to him, I saw that he was more attractive than I remembered. In their humanoid forms, these Hielsrane were quite captivating specimens– their skin highlighted by shiny scales, with colors that seemed to differ from one Drakon to the next, and formidable fangs and talons. They had an underlying ferocity that was almost sensual, and a commanding bearing that seemed to fill the room, but there was something different about this one. My trained eye could see that there was something hesitant, almost uncertain, about him.
I remembered that Ranel had initially been prepared to disobey the orders this leader had given. Was he new to command, perhaps? Younger than most in his position, maybe a bit unsure of himself or unseasoned in the eyes of his crew?
Could I find a way to use that against him?
“Aren't you worried, being in here alone with me?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. I wanted to see if I could get him to more acutely betray his own lack of confidence.
But if he was at all intimidated or taken aback, he gave no sign. Instead, he tilted his head almost mockingly, his reptilian eyes looking me up and down slowly. “You are a human. You have soft skin, relatively frail bones, and systems of internal organs which can easily be crushed. I could break you with one hand, if I were so inclined. So no, I'm not especially concerned.”
“You do have questions for me, though,” I prodded. “Like how a human slave merits a durabilium collar, and whether it means I have anything useful to tell you about how to defeat the remaining Pax.”
“If you managed to distinguish yourself to them enough to receive a collar like that one, not to mention access to their command center and a sidearm, then yes, I'm fairly certain you have data which would prove valuable to us.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I shot back. “I was just a slave with a slightly higher rank and some basic supervisory privileges. I only got access to the command center and the gun because the Pax overseer was a coward.”
I was playing it fiesty, but I was also sticking out my chest and hips in all the right ways – making him confuse my defiance with a form of flirtation. Acting subservient would be suspicious. Letting him feel like he could tame me was a better strategy, since it would stroke his ego.
“So if I'm to believe your story – and I don't – then you have no information whatsoever about where the other Pax would hide while planning a counter-offensive?”
“None. I never met the other Pax, and I never left N-7. For all I know, the other mining colonies didn't even exist. They could have been fairy tales the overseers told us to make us think theirs was a bigger and more important operation than it actually was.”
Nonsense, of course. I hadn't been to the other colonies, true, but I was well aware they existed. I was trying to get a rise out of him.
It worked.
“I can assure you, based on the combat reports we've received, they exist.”
“Well, congratulations,” I shrugged. “You officially know more about it than I do.”
“Before we continue,” he said, “may I know your name? I expected to find it on your collar, as you Earthers used to do to label your house pets, but it's not there.”
“My name is Natalie,” I informed him, “and I was a worker, not a 'pet.' Anyway, what do you know of Earthers?”
“More than you might think. Enough, for example, to determine the most vulnerable points in their physiology in order to cause them a maximum amount of pain should they try to deceive me.”
“Well, before we get to that bit of fun, what should I call you?”
“Oh, based on your insouciant tone, I'm sure you've got any number of ideas on what to 'call me,'” he chuckled. “But my given name is Dashel, and I hold the rank of captain in the Hielsrane fleet.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise. Now then, Natalie – if that is indeed your real name – has it occurred to you that if you have no information to provide, I have no further need to keep you alive?”
“Giving up so soon?” I teased. “That hardly sounds like the level of dedication I'd expect from a captain on a crucial mission. And from the way you've been staring at me ever since you first saw me on the planet's surface, I'm betting you're thinking of plenty of reasons to keep me around.” I took a step toward him suggestively.
He took a step toward me as well, leering. “You believe you can gain some advantage by tempting me with sex, is that it? You think I'm that weak and predictable?”
“Hey, weakness and predictability have nothing to do with it. I've been a slave long enough to know how things work. You've got me, I'm yours, you can obviously do whatever you want with me. I may as well offer myself up willingly to save us both a lot of hassle. And besides, whether you have your way with me or not, what 'advantage' could I hope to gain? If you've achieved the rank of captain, I have to believe you're disciplined enough to make sure you don't drop your guard just because you drop your pants. Or am I wrong?”
He licked his lips with a forked tongue. I found the gesture strangely alluring. He wanted me so badly that the air between us seemed to throb with a powerful energy, like raw radiation emanating from a star drive.
“You're not wrong,” he replied.
“Yeah? Then prove it,” I dared him.
He closed the gap between us then, suddenly, like a raptor descending hungrily on its prey. His lips pressed against mine, cool and smooth, his thin tongue caressing my own. There was a peculiar sweetness to his breath that I didn't expect. Did his kind breathe fire, like the dragons of Earth lore? If so, did the chemical enzymes in his saliva help him produce and control the flame? I knew I should ask him later.
I told myself it was because such knowledge might give me a tactical advantage I could use, but the truth was, something about his race – about him, specifically – was fascinating me more with each passing moment.
As a child – a whole galaxy away, before my life as a slave began – I had always been intrigued by the ancient Earth legends of dragons. Their power, strength, speed, and guile –the way they soared through the skies, feared, unchallenged, casting their huge shadows over the ground, protecting vast hoards of stolen treasure. Modern science had long scoffed at such tales, stating as established fact that concepts of “dragons” had simply stemmed from primitive cultures encountering exotic Gila monsters and Komodos, or the fossilized bones of dinosaurs.
But deep down, I'd always chosen to believe that they were wrong. That true dragons had existed.
Now I had seen them for myself. I was being held in the arms of one, kissed, ravished, practically devoured by the intensity of his desire for me. The strange thrill of it all made me dizzy and light-headed, almost causing me to forget where I was or how I'd gotten here. In that moment, I was just a breathless girl in the presence of a beautiful mythological beast I'd sought out my entire life.
I gave in, my hands sliding over his smooth scales, feeling them overlap and tingle at my touch. He was stiffening against my thigh – and my God, he was huge, his cock quivering and insistent, begging and demanding all at once. I cupped a hand ove
r his crotch, and his lips vibrated gently against mine as he let out a long and lusty moan.
One of his claws hooked through the material of my mining coveralls, its tip barely touching my skin. He was surgically precise with those talons. The work suit was made of a thick material tougher than canvas, but he sliced through it like it was paper, from my collarbone all the way down to my navel. I shrugged it off and stood before him, naked but unafraid.
He lowered himself to his knees slowly before me, his kisses tracing delicate patterns across my breasts and belly before his mouth found my pussy. His forked tongue flicked out, and I gasped as it stroked my inner thighs. Whatever was in his saliva was making my skin tingle fiercely, and I loved it.
I put my hands on him, steadying myself as I draped one leg over his shoulder, keeping the other firmly planted on the floor. Then his lips parted, his long, thin tongue darting inside me to find areas no one had ever reached before. It was muscular, and it pressed against my G spot insistently over and over.
I felt something fluttery explode in the pit of my stomach, like a flock of birds taking flight. I was his captive, his prisoner...could I really be enjoying myself so much? I wanted to believe I was just throwing myself into the act to convince him, but deep down, I knew that wasn't true.
I liked it. I wanted more.
The split end of his tongue withdrew just enough to tickle my clit, rubbing both sides of it at the same time until I thought I might faint with pleasure. Then he stood suddenly in a burst of energy, and for a moment, I was scared – that he suddenly regretted what he'd done, that he was going to hurt me to punish himself for it.
But instead, his arms enfolded me, gently lowering me to the floor on my back. The metal was cold and hard, but strangely, that only turned me on more. He positioned himself on top of me, undoing the latches on his sleek, form-fitting space suit and revealing himself to me. His cock was even larger and thicker than I imagined, with a series of ridges along the shaft – I wondered if he'd even fit inside me, if it would hurt.
