After being paired in the Lottery, the Knight with whom she was matched would be released from his vow and have his sperm production resumed. Then it would be only a matter of time, or so she hoped. In the meantime, she would offer him the shagging of his life as much as he wanted, for as long as it took to produce a new little athlete, or a new little defender of the colony, or whatever else their child turned out to be.
And to get it, all she had to do was get through this most public exhibition of what should be the most private matter in her life.
Agena had never been shy or timid, qualities that did not lend themselves to the career and life that she wanted. She had always been confident, competitive, and assertive -- the proverbial “go-getter.” When she saw things that she wanted, she went after them. That was her way, and it had served her well. And yet, she did believe that there were spaces in a woman’s life—in anyone’s life—that ought to be for her alone. Choosing a lover, a mate, and a spouse; becoming a mother; and raising a family: those were not things that one did in an arena with thousands of people watching and shouting. Those were not things that one did with the entire galaxy watching. Those were private things.
When this whole loud, voyeuristic display was over, she looked forward to pulling down a curtain over her life and then doing with the Lacertan who was chosen for her what she always did. She would go and get him and let him know in no uncertain terms that she wanted him and wanted his child. And when she got him into bed, she would make it very worth his while. Who knew—perhaps they would even fall in love. It was a big galaxy. Stranger things had happened.
From out of one of the competitors’ entrances to the playing field, a bowl-shaped floating carriage appeared and maneuvered itself over the turf toward the bridge between the stage and the platform, where it settled into a hover. In the hollow of the bowl stood a male Lacertan in dragon form, his green scales turned grayish and dull and his spines turned a golden brown, signifying his elder status.
In their reptilian bodies, their bipedal, upright body carriage was the only indicator of their human selves. The elder, a Lottery Master, carried a glowing, two-pronged staff that symbolized his office. He surveyed the crowd, the suitors and suitresses, and the aspirants before he spoke, an audio unit in his garment amplifying his voice so that it carried out loudly over the entire arena: “Welcome, one and all, of all genders, species, and planets of origin, to the Silverwing Stadium! The week’s first Courting Lottery of the Knights and Dragon Corps of Lacerta will now begin!”
And a raucous, shrill, and ringing cheer welled up from every direction, with a mighty stamping of thousands of feet and pedal appendages, and a clapping and waving and clicking of thousands of hands, tendrils, claws, and manual extremities. The crowd was clearly ready for the sport of couples coming together for the first time.
Some of the aspirants had already signed contracts to allow their entire courtship to be transmitted to curious onlookers all over known space. Even edited portions of their actual coupling would be made available for viewing. Agena had not signed any such agreement -- the thought of it made her blood run cold and made her want to hurt someone. As long as one member of the couple did not give his or her consent, their courtship would be kept completely private.
Agena did not expect her prospective suitor to object to her disinterest in a transmitted courtship. The Knights and the Corps frowned on such a thing as unseemly, unbecoming of their position and rank. For that, Agena was grateful.
The Lottery Master intoned, “Let the selection interface appear!”
From a nook on the floor of the platform, a metallic stalk appeared and rose into view until the broad tip of it, which held an electronic control surface, was just a little higher than the midsection of an average human. This was the device by which each aspirant, in turn, would identify himself or herself to the Lottery computer, which would then access its memory and select the Knight or Corps member with whom that person would be paired.
What the process lacked in romance, it made up for in technical efficiency. Romance would come later, assuming the rapport between both members of the couple was right. If not romance, then at least lots of very purposeful copulating.
A holographic display twinkled into view before the Lottery Master. Agena knew this was the list of all the aspirants in the Lottery, arranged in random order so that no one—not even the audience, many of whom had aspirant lists that they kept as scorecards—knew whose name would be called when. It was more suspenseful that way. The Master called out, “The first aspirant will now take the platform.” And after a moment of dramatic hush, the old weredragon announced the first name.
Another raucous cheer exploded from the stands as a woman of about Agena’s age leaped up from a seat in front of her and ran down the steps on one side of the box. She quickly made her way across the grass to another stairway at the base of the platform, then up to where the interface waited. It was all a grand ritual, and one in which Agena would have to wait her turn.
Agena watched as one of her fellow aspirants after another was called and made the trip down to the playing field and up to the platform. In turn, each one laid a hand on the glowing surface of the device on the stalk. The computers identified each participant in the Lottery by his or her handprint, then the results of the selection were relayed to the Master on another hologram.
One by one, each suitor or suitress walked across the bridge from stage to platform when called, and every walk bore its own cacophonous din of shouts and applause. The paired couples then left the platform, on foot or by wing at their own discretion, and walked or flew out of the Stadium to begin courtship. With every successive pairing, Agena’s heart beat a little faster, then slowed down for the next, then sped up again. Her mouth went dry with anticipation, waiting for her turn.
The Lottery Master read the next name from his list: “Agena Morrow!”
And perhaps it was only her imagination, but the deafening whoop that greeted her name seemed a little louder than those for the ones who had gone before her. She was the only celebrity participant in the Lottery so far. To be sure, many of those in the stands knew who she was and had been waiting for her name to be called almost as anxiously as she had been. She could imagine that she had some fans in the Lottery audience today.
As heads in the selection box turned in her direction and the hovering recorder drones zeroed in on her, strobing and flashing, Agena put on her best smiling celebrity face and stood, waving to the crowd as was expected of her. And through the flashing of the drones, she saw a great many people in the roaring throng waving back. Brushing all this off, she made her way down to the field and up to the platform with the same speed as the others, or perhaps a little bit faster.
When she reached the platform, it was definitely not her imagination that there was no hush of expectation. The ear-splitting whoop of the crowd dwindled to a strong and steady murmur but did not fade altogether. Yes, she had fans here, all right, and they were most keenly interested in knowing which weredragon would now be mated with their favorite Sphereball player.
Agena laid her hand on the brightly lit surface of the selection interface and held her breath. The light pulsed under the palm of her hand. She held her breath. Except for the murmur all around her, it seemed as if everything on Lacerta were standing still. And then the Master’s voice rang out:
“Sir Thrax Helmer!”
On the stage, Thrax’s company had grown sparse. The sound of his name being called hit him like a lightning bolt. The four Lacertans who still shared the stage with him nodded and bowed their respects as if sending him off into battle. A couple of them clapped him on the shoulders. Thrax numbly acknowledged them. Then he turned and looked across the bridge, facing his fate.
The cheers of the crowd moved through him like breaking waves of sound as he made the fateful walk across the structure separating him only for the moment from the woman whom an impersonal computer had chosen to be his immediate, if not lon
g-term, future. He strode past where the Master hovered and on across the way until he at last reached the platform, where the tall and—he had to admit at first glance—athletic and beautiful human female awaited him with a quiet smile.
A Knight and a gentleman to the last, Thrax Helmer held out his gauntleted hand to Agena Morrow. She stepped from behind the interface and took the hand he offered. With the uproar of the crowd seeming to make cliffs of noise all around them, Thrax and Agena met each other’s eyes for the first time. In each other, they saw beauty, strength, and possibilities. The hours and days to come would tell exactly what those possibilities might be.
CHAPTER TWO
Random chance had served Agena well. It had brought her a Knight of three colors, a Lacertan peacekeeper of the highest standing. The red, black, and silver uniform that so sexily accented the muscles of his amazing body showed him to be just below a Mentor in rank. She browsed through her memories of all the other Knights of Lacerta who had pleased her in bed.
She had always loved the way their uniforms looked on them, the way the top fastened itself at the back of the strong, corded neck and formed a seam along the waistline at the front and the sides, leaving the back completely open and the arms bare except for the shiny foil-membrane armbands. His badge with its regal-looking dragon’s head emblem adhered to his suit, appropriately, right over his heart.
The hilt of Thrax’s powerblade hung from his belt as if to suggest a second phallus, and Agena could only imagine that his actual member was equally as big. She had never heard of a Lacertan Knight, or any Lacertan male, being less than formidably hung, and the ones who had bedded her in the past were certainly not for the fainthearted. There were times between partners when she had lived on the memory of being plundered and impaled by them.
Looking Thrax up and down, Agena had every belief that he would measure up to any of her previous Knights. She smiled at him and was pleased at the courtly smile he gave her in return.
However, the thunderous roar and bellow of the crowd made a verbal greeting next to impossible. Dispensing with manners, Agena tried to shout at Thrax that it was all right with her if he wanted to morph to dragon form and fly them away from the Stadium. Thrax squinted and leaned in at her, unable to make out her words in the din. She leaned in closer and repeated her shout into his ear. Thrax leaned away, understanding, and for the first time, Agena saw her prospective partner morph.
The Lacertan mutation did not enable them to become full dragons. They always took on a form half-human, half-dragon—and wondrous to behold. Thrax in his other body was a thing of resplendent scales in what Agena guessed must be a half dozen shades of green and some hues mixed in with blue, with tiger-like stripes of azure and emerald up and down his arms.
His horns were majestically curved, his snout festooned with sharp spines, and his neck and back adorned with a trail of softer, more cushiony spines that stood up proudly in the sunshine. His tail descended to the floor of the platform and curled like a massive, flattened python, a thing of purest muscle. His reptile skin glistened like polished leather, and she could only imagine how it must feel to the touch.
In a moment, she did not need to imagine. He extended his hand to her again, and she noticed that the fingers of his gauntlets had extended to accommodate the powerful claws at the ends of his digits -- claws that could rake and gouge solid steel. It helped her understand why the Lacertans had created the Corps and the Knighthood to protect themselves from each other as well as any foes from outside. She took his hand, and he pulled her to him with a gentleness that belied his reptilian power and scooped her up in his arms.
Thrax lifted his head, unfolded his huge wings, and beat them mightily. He gave a leap that made Agena feel that her stomach was falling away, as well as the platform beneath them, and in a second, they were climbing toward the upper rim of the stadium, Thrax’s wings whooshing powerfully in the air with every power-filled beat. In a minute, they were high overhead, and the din of the Stadium crowd was dwindling beneath them, to be replaced with the sonorous sound of the wind of the Lacertan sky.
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Thrax flew them just far enough that they could speak comfortably without shouting. He landed in a small park not far from the Stadium, touching down on a lawn of green grass studded with trees shaped like giant cauliflowers with green and violet leaves. Here, he set Agena down as gently as he had picked her up and morphed back to human. He offered her his hand again, and this time he bowed when she put her hand in his.
“I am Sir Thrax Helmer of Lacerta, Milady,” he said.
Both touched and amused by his knightly gentility, Agena replied, “How do you do, Sir Thrax? I suppose I should just call you Thrax, under the circumstances. I’m Agena Morrow. I’m a professional Sphereball champion.”
Thrax’s eyebrows arched, casting a look of surprise on his amazingly handsome face. Agena thought he looked impressed and hoped her assessment was true. “Sphereball,” he said. “That’s a very challenging sport. You play it professionally, and you’re a champion?”
Encouraged at finding she was right about his reaction, Agena said proudly, “Two-time winner of the Pleiades Cup.”
“I see,” Thrax nodded. “The randomness of the Lottery, then, has brought me an extraordinary woman.”
“Not quite so random,” Agena replied. “You must know the Lottery for the Knights and the Corps is reserved for certain people -- that is, the people in the best shape—people in the Terran Fleet, people in sports. You sort of have to be someone like me to be entered as an aspirant for someone like you.”
“Yes, that is true,” Thrax mused. “There’s a necessary…elitism, I imagine you’d call it…about who is made eligible for Courtship with us.” For the first time, Thrax really looked at her, looked her up and down. Agena could tell that the dragon man was now giving her the once-over with his eyes as she had done with him at the platform in the Stadium. She was happy to find no frown on his face, no hint of disapproval.
His impression remained even and constant; he was still impressed. A hope kindled inside her that she could yet turn his apparent sense of intrigue to arousal. But an edge of formality crept back into his voice as he went on, “Agena Morrow, under the laws and customs of Lacerta, I am to court you and be your attentive suitor.” His tone sounded almost like the tone he would use for a perpetrator that he was apprehending. Agena was not sure she liked that, but she smiled back at him anyway.
“I’m very pleased to have you for my suitor, Thrax,” said Agena. “I hope we’ll get along well together.”
“Yes,” said Thrax, his manner becoming even more formal. Agena sensed his demeanor definitely growing more rigid and stiffer. She looked forward to finding that was not the only thing rigid and stiff about him. “From your high standing in your sport, you’re a woman of great accomplishment, great skill, and prowess. You must have had many exciting experiences in your life. I look forward to hearing of them. I’m sure we will enjoy each other’s company.”
His mention of her “skill and prowess” made sparks light up and flit around inside her. She had “skill and prowess” aplenty, and she was ready to demonstrate them for him—on and between the sheets. “I look forward to that, too,” said Agena. “And I look forward to hearing about some of your adventures as a Knight. Our suite at the Courting Chateau is ready. I was there before the Lottery.”
“Yes,” said Thrax, “the Ministry of Courtship is always very efficient. I’m sure everything is in order. They will have attended to every detail. There are still some details left, which are…my responsibility.”
Agena subtly, knowingly, arched her eyebrows. “Oh. Well, yes, there is your um… procedure…”
“Yes,” Thrax said. “I must be as prepared as the place where we’ll be staying together. The Spires has already declared the suspension of my oath, pending my formal renunciation. And there is one other matter.”
“What would that be?” Agena asked.
&
nbsp; “The other reason I’ve come back to Lacerta is my rejuvenating swim. You know this about us, don’t you?”
She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Your ‘rejuvenating swim’…” Then she remembered. “Oh, of course! I knew about that. It’s that time for you, then?”
“It is. I must swim in Lake Shimmershine and re-expose myself to its concentrations of Draconite. Everything else,” he said meaningfully, “will depend on my health in the days ahead.”
Now, Agena thought, there was no mistaking his tone. It felt, curiously, almost as if he were distancing himself, or figuratively holding himself at arm’s length from her. She would have to do something about that if they were going to have any success at all. Somehow, she would have to get her stunning suitor to loosen up, to be more comfortable around her. His present demeanor did not lend itself to the purpose for which they’d been brought together. “I understand,” she said. “Of course, you want to be in your best health, your best condition, for…what we’re here for.”
“As you would want to be before competing in an important match,” said Thrax.
THRAX (Dragons Of The Universe Book 1) Page 3
