by Roscoe James
“Fuck,” he mumbled.
“What did you say?”
“Nothin’, Lieutenant! Double time, Lieutenant! I’ll be right there, Lieutenant!”
And to top it all off, he could still smell her! And his damned cock just wouldn’t settle! What the hell has this she-cat done to me?
Grabbing a towel he wrapped it around his waist, letting the tuck hang in front to try and hide the state of his cock, and reported to the Lieutenant’s office.
“Sorry, Lieutenant. I can explain, Lieutenant. I just…”
When he ran out of steam, Radd prodded, “Well this ought’a be good. Great, explain away!”
“Well, Lieutenant. I reported for duty. The detail, I mean, and well, then I, well… and then we… I mean the ambassador, well, then she wanted to… well…and she purred, well…”
“Right,” Radd boomed shutting him up. “Look, Hill, I don’t want to know what happened.” Given the state of his stomach, Hill was sure he was going to spew right on top of Radd’s desk. “All I know is that the ambassador has requested your presence for tonight’s Company dinner.”
That was the last thing he wanted, “But, Lieutenant…”
“Do I look like an asshole to you, Sergeant?”
Damn, it had been a long time since he’d seen Radd so mad.
“Ah, no,” he said then rushed to add, “Sir!”
“Then don’t but me, Sergeant! Now, you got your orders. Report to the ambassador’s suit at 2100!”
When he didn’t respond the Lieutenant bellowed, “I can’t hear you!”
“Sir, yes sir!” His hand came up in a sharp salute and he spun on the balls of his bare feet to leave.
He was contemplating the current climactic conditions in the Blue system when Radd barked, “Oh, and dress whites with full diplomatic sash!”
His mouth fell open and he nearly stumbled headfirst into the doorframe making his exit.
* * * *
“This is ridiculous!”
How could this be? It’s unheard of. It hasn’t happened for more than two millennium. How can you do this to me, Bast?
Pran smiled wickedly. “Ah, but it is the queen’s order. You must.”
Turning in a fit of rage she said, “She’s my mother! And I’m old enough to decide these things for myself! She told me so!”
“Then why are you doing so much preening for a Corporation dinner you don’t even want to go to with a man, as in hu-man, you have spent the entire afternoon cursing Bast for sending to you?”
She pulled the thin feather beneath her eye, and forgetting herself, smiled at the results. Just as quickly, she frowned and whined sarcastically, “Well, you’ve been a lot of help.”
With a petulant smirk she watched Pran sulk and went back to fixing her face.
She tried to remember. It had been over two thousand years ago. Somewhere in the family line. Or, more importantly, the royal line. It had been before the humans had even left their planet, much less their solar system. In some place they called Egypt. She couldn’t recall the whole story and made a note to ask her mother.
When Pran poked her in the side, she jumped. “What was that for?”
Pran smiled sheepishly. “You were purring.”
“I was not!”
“I heard you, Princess!”
“You did not!” But she knew she had been.
They stared at each other until they both burst into giggles.
Bending back to the mirror, Peenzan admitted, “I was, wasn’t I?”
Her hand came up to her mouth and she nearly shouted, “I did it today, too!”
“In public! No!”
“I couldn’t help it. As soon as I got near him, it just happened.”
“Oh my Bast! Did anyone hear you?”
Her face was blank for a beat then she burst into more giggling. “He did!”
Pran grabbed her arm, “No! He can’t have!”
She felt a blush, “And I leaned into him and…”
“No! In public? What did he do?”
Turning back to the mirror, she whispered, “I think I scared him to death.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
She didn’t answer and cursed when she realized she was purring again.
And why now, she wondered, dusting her face with flecks of gold. And why couldn’t it have been Mazzatt? She felt unsettled when his name, one that had always sent a rush through her, no longer had a magic sound to it. Mazzatt. She whispered it out loud, “Mazzatt,” and felt sorry for him.
They’d all been so sure. Even her mother. It was just a matter of time, she’d said. It will happen soon.
Well, she said to herself wickedly, guess what Mom, it happened.
When she stepped from the cleaning room, she found a full-length gown of translucent mijon silk from the Blue system with gold edging lying on her bed.
Pran carried gold slippers with heels high enough to give her a nosebleed in one hand and the Meline state sash in the other.
“Oh, I hate that thing,” she said pointing at the sash. “I don’t see why I have to wear it.”
“Try to keep in mind that this is a state dinner with the United Corporation and you are here to save our people, my princess.”
She sulked some more fingering the luscious edge of the gown.
When they both heard a light rap on the door, she jumped and Pran ran to her side and whispered, “And not some first date with Mr. Right.”
“What?”
Pran ran back and whispered, “It’s your second!”
When Pran ran out giggling, Peenzan scowled, and smiling the whole time, started dressing.
* * * *
Aside from feeling stupid, he felt more than a little trepidation as he stood staring at the five red stars on her suite door.
What the hell is wrong with me? His palms felt wet in his white dress gloves and he had his dress saber pulled so far to the front of his black slacks to hide his half hard cock he was almost out of regulation.
At 6’8” and two hundred sixty pounds, he was nothing more and nothing less than a finely tuned fighting machine trained to stare down the deadliest of threats no matter what solar system or planet they came from. Well, that and the platoon fuck-up. Too many brains and way too much brawn, one captain had commented the last time he’d fucked up.
It’s one of the reasons Diplomatic duty was such an insult to him. Running around in red silk sashes and sabers, tipping fine crystal with the pantywaists that ran the Corporation, was not what he’d had in mind when he’d signed on to the deadliest fighting force in the galaxy.
He cursed himself again as he stood, his thighs quivering beneath his slacks, waiting for someone to open the damn door. Just as he raised his knuckles a second time it slid open.
“Good evening. I’m Sergeant Hillsborough, here for the Madame Ambassador.”
When the young woman stood, mouth open, and said nothing, he added, “I believe I’m expected.”
She said something and he had no idea what it was. Must be her native tongue. You would think an Ambassador would have multilingual help. But given her step to the side and sweeping hand, he decided it was an invitation and strode into the main reception room of the huge suite.
When, eyes as big as saucers, she spoke a second time in the same strange language and disappeared down a hallway still muttering, he pulled on his starched collar and fell into parade rest staring at a lavish painting of a Meline female that looked surprisingly like the Madame Ambassador.
* * * *
“Oh my Bast! I forgot to speak his language! Twice!”
Peenzan inspected her nails and smiled wistfully.
“You can’t!” Pran exclaimed.
“What on Meline are you talking about, Pran?”
Turning she pointed at her back and Pran lifted the two wide falls of cloth from her side and, pulling them behind her princess, tied them into a six sided knot that represented the hallan flower on their home planet. Sna
pping a big shimmering gold button in place, she was through.
Fluffing the long strands out over Peenzan’s back-fall that still showed beneath her gown representing the stem of the flower, Pran explained excitedly, “He’ll crush you! He’s huge! He’s a walking wall!”
She flushed at the thought and fanned her neck with her open palm. Yes, he is huge isn’t he?
“Don’t be silly, Pran.”
“I mean it, Princess; we must call your mother at once!”
Standing in front of the tall mirror she inspected the front of her dress noting the small line of soft champagne colored fur that ran delicately between her breasts in a ridge to stop at the small of her neck. Turning to her side she inspected Pran’s work and smiled with satisfaction.
When she looked up, she jumped to grab the communicator from Pran and threw it on the bed, “What are you doing?”
“I swear, Princess, it isn’t physically possible! We must stop this right now! He will kill you!”
She fixed her handmaiden with a benevolent smile and said, “Well, Pran, if that is how I am to die, if that is Bast’s will, then so be it.”
She’d started purring again.
“Forgive me, Princess, but you are completely mad.”
“I know,” she replied, her inflection gentle, a soft purring lilt, “Mad in love. Now please, Pran, bring me the sash and send me out to meet my executioner.”
Pran swatted her princess on the shoulder, “And stop purring!”
She brought her hand to her chest and blushed.
“Stark raving mad,” Pran repeated.
* * * *
Crenshaw sat waiting for the chairman to speak first. He watched impassively as another leather bound document was signed, sealed, and carried away by the chairman’s assistant.
“So Blake, is everything in place?”
“Yes it is, Mr. Chairman.”
“And how will it happen?” the chairman inquired, and then picked up a cup of coffee before adding, “Or do I want to know?”
It was a task like any other. One of hundreds he’d performed for the current board of directors. There’d been a proposition, a vote, and a resolution. And he was the go to man who would make sure the resolution was carried out. He had no idea why the Meline had been earmarked for eradication, and frankly, he didn’t care. His only concern was how to make it happen.
“Well, Mr. Chairman, without going into all the details, I’ll give you the high points. You may recall Lieutenant Hillsborough.”
“Right. Some incident. Wasn’t he demoted?”
“Yes, he was. It’s now Sergeant Hillsborough. Well, he’s been assigned as the ambassador’s personal protector while on the station. That should give us credible deniability when the time comes. We’ll just blame it all on him.”
“That’s too bad. I knew his father. Good man.”
“Well, it’s a small sacrifice for the good of the Corporation. Or so I thought.”
He watched the chairman take another sip of coffee and run his finger through the small silver plate of Rangdon spice, an officially illegal substance that, as always happened, meant it was actually reserved for the rich and powerful.
“Right you are, Blake,” the Chairman said smacking his lips, his eyes going blank for a beat.
“And I’ve arranged things for this evening at the Corporate dinner.”
“Very good, Blake. At least I won’t have to listen to her caterwauling tomorrow.”
Blake watched the chairman’s finger return for a second dip and wanted to leave. How on earth, or anyplace else in the galaxy, could such a disgusting man rise to such a great place of power?
Pushing up from his chair he asked, “I assume you don’t really want to know exactly how it will happen.”
The Chairman’s face was a blank, his eyes vacant, his finger still stuck in his mouth where he sucked like a babe in mother’s arms.
When no answer came, Crenshaw retreated quietly from the chairman’s office and pulled the door closed with a soft click. Turning to the chairman’s assistant, he said, “He asked not to be disturbed for at least an hour.”
* * * *
No matter how much resolve he’d mustered standing in the middle of the room staring at the painting, no matter how many times he’d reminded himself of his calling and the fact many men and other beings had died in his bare hands, his knees almost gave way when she swept into the room purring.
“I’m so sorry, sergeant.”
He didn’t think to smile until the same young woman who had greeted him at the door stepped close to Madame Ambassador and whispered something in her ear.
He almost laughed at the reaction the whispered words brought when Madame Ambassador balled her fist, hit her chest, and coughed.
He knew the protocol, but oddly, it wasn’t needed as the compliment rolled off his tongue, “Madame Ambassador, you are lovely this evening.”
“Iiiiiiiiii…” And he watched the fist come up again and listened to another cough.
His concern was real when he asked, “Are you all right? Did a doctor come with you? Should I call one for you?”
She blushed.
His knees trembled.
She smiled.
He cursed himself.
“Noooo…” One last cough and she finally said something without a purr. “Thank you for your concern, Sergeant. How nice of you. I think it may be the air. I keep getting something caught in my chest, ah, throat. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
She was a vision. Her body shimmered softly beneath her white gown and her pale blue eyes smiled. Noting how hard his heart was pounding he cleared his own throat, stepped forward, and raised his arm, saying, “Yes, you may be right. My chest has felt funny all day.”
As they left he noticed the young woman had started giggling and wondered if there was a rip in the back of his trousers somewhere.
* * * *
She tried it again. Yes, the purring subsided. Swallowing definitely seemed to help. Why didn’t her mother explain these things to her?
His arm is so big. It feels like a tree. Her thoughts immediately went to another part of his anatomy and she squelched another purring fit. Oh my, what if he really does kill me?
As he escorted her down the long hall, she breathed deep and let her purr rattle a little. His arm feels like iron. And his eyes. Killer’s eyes but oddly, every time he looks at me they soften and almost smile.
Swallowing again she tried speaking. “I…well, Sergeant, I…” She cursed herself for not finding something, anything, to say.
“Yes, Madame Ambassador?”
His voice. So deep and strong. Firm and commanding.
She swallowed again. “I was wondering what part of earth you’re from?” she asked and chanced a sideways glance.
Oh my, and his smile. His chin is so strong, almost jutting. And his skin is so smooth. She smiled when she realized she had an urge to pet him.
“Well, ma’am, my people actually come from the Leedon district on the moon. I do have family back on earth though. An aunt and uncle.”
“Oh, your moon. How lovely.” She was babbling but couldn’t stop. “And what color is your moon, Sergeant?”
Her chest rattled uncontrollably when he laughed.
“Well, mostly it’s just gray and several shades of darker gray. It’s just volcanic dust and rock, ma’am. But I did see it from earth once. On a trip. It looked red then.”
Yes, she thought, appropriate. The color of a warrior. It’s not the earth’s moon, it’s his moon.
“Oh, Sergeant, you must stop calling me ma’am. Why, I’m barely 68. My mother, the queen, would be ma’am.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that ma’am.”
When she realized he didn’t even know he was saying it she laughed and a purr slipped out like a rude burp and she covered her mouth. When she glanced at him, he only smiled and looked straight ahead.
“This is the entrance, ma’am. I believe you’re supposed to en
ter alone as the representative of your world.”
She clutched his arm and hesitated. His voice was soft and gentle, not at all what one might expect from such a big being. And she didn’t want to let go. It felt so good. She felt so good. And safe.
Then another voice invaded, one she’d just as soon forget.
“That’s alright, Sergeant, I believe that as the senior diplomatic officer present, the Madame Ambassador would enter on my arm. You will enter through that door over there.” She watched Mr. Crenshaw raise his hand and point. “And you will find your place and be seated.”
She felt dizzy as the tree she’d been clinging to disappeared and was replaced by a mere branch. Looking around quickly, she managed to catch his eye and smile. She felt her purring start again when he smiled back crookedly. Swallowing hard she looked ahead and stepped into the room on Crenshaw’s arm.
A small fanfare from an orchestra at the front of the room, talking stopped, and she was announced by an odd looking man with a long gold staff that he beat repeatedly against the floor.
“The Madame Ambassador Princess Peenzan Fanston of the planet Meline!”
As Crenshaw dragged her to the center of the room, she searched the crowd on her right for her tree. She finally found him walking along the wall, his head well above everyone else’s, and she felt her chest flutter when she saw him smile yet again.
More swallowing and she looked at the crowd of onlookers. Crenshaw abandoned her in the center of the room under a spotlight, and she thought, slithered away. Clearing her throat a last time she found the sergeant at the back of the room, smiled and he smiled back, and began her formal greeting to the people of earth.
* * * *
He wanted someone to punch him in the nose and wake him up. He was sure this was a bad dream and all he had to do was wake up, take a cold shower, and it would all go away. Of course, he thought, I’ve already done that and it didn’t work.
It has to be something she uses on her body and he made a mental note to check with germ warfare in RandD the next day and see what they could tell him about the Meline.
Her gentle fragrance still persisted as, never taking his eyes off her, he found her place card and took up station behind her chair.
Like a guilty child he visibly cringed when he recalled his real duty and quickly scanned the crowd, the waiters, and the perimeter of the room for any visible threat to Madame Ambassador. No. Peenzan. And he whispered it, “Peenzan.”
