Surrendering to Her General

by Sadie Marks

  She would have enjoyed it if she wasn't feeling so completely lost in her own thoughts. She wandered down the wide corridors barely noticing the people who passed her. If anyone wondered why she was out alone, they didn't ask, and in general, the slaves were free to come and go as they pleased unless told otherwise, so she didn't attract much attention.

  There were so many conflicting emotions surging through her mind that she wasn't even paying attention to where she was going. She kept close to the wall, so she wouldn't run into anyone, fingers trailing along the smooth metal surface as she kept her eyes on the floor. She was focused on the past couple of weeks and the days she'd had with each of the five warriors.

  She had reveled in the wantonness of the things they'd done to her and she did enjoy them while in the moment. The feeling of letting herself fly free to become nothing more than a creature of sensation was an unbelievable release. If the sexual pleasure wasn't enough to make it worth it, then that might have been. So why, after, did she constantly second-guess herself? Tal wouldn't judge her for enjoying herself. This was his wish—no, more than that, it was his culture and he wanted her to adapt to it.

  She would please him best by letting herself enjoy all the sensual pleasures they had to offer, so why was she fighting it? It was a deep subject, deeper than she liked to go if she was honest with herself, because it was connected with her mother, and she didn't really like to think about her; there were too many emotions there that she tried to avoid.

  Her father had been an amazing man, and they'd been so alike that at times her mother had almost seemed jealous. Maybe feeling left out was the excuse that she'd used to explain the numerous affairs she'd had during their marriage. She'd never tried to hide it, and it was blatant enough that even as a child, Kenzi had seen what was going on.

  He'd been military, a Keeper, which meant he was often deployed to trouble spots to keep the peace. Every time he left, she cried and cried, but her mother would just take up with a new man like she didn't even miss him. It wasn't cheating, not really. Her father had sat her down and explained once when she was a little bit older. They had a relationship that allowed for her to have other partners while he was gone; it had been decided before they'd signed the marriage contract that they would not be monogamous, but they would put each other first.

  And Kenzi understood that, because there were plenty of family units around with different configurations that she'd seen. Her best friend Maril had two mommies and two daddies and they all seemed pretty happy. What she couldn't understand was that her mother seemed to move to another man so easily as soon as her father left—out of sight out of mind. As long as she had someone to pay attention to her, it didn't matter who. There were never any tears, never any worry about whether he was safe. In fact, she'd lectured her daughter more than once about how she shouldn't mope around and cry so much.

  But she couldn't help it; when he was gone, she missed him. She couldn't help resenting whatever guy her mother was currently seeing, either—and none of them were nearly as nice as her father. She started to feel like she was a burden, an inconvenience to her mother, and that her mother probably wouldn't miss her if she was gone, either. Maybe it was unfair, but it was how it felt to her then—and still did, years later.

  When her father finally retired from the military and came home to stay, her mother didn't say much. She didn't seem pleased or especially displeased, either. She just accepted his presence, but her life didn't really change. Instead of making him her focus again, she continued the way she had been and he didn't complain, but Kenzi could see the sadness in him as the distance between her parents grew.

  She drew back from her mother, and if there was a side to choose, she chose his. Her mother didn't seem to notice or mind. She was busy with her own life. Maybe she was even glad that her husband and daughter were so close by then, so she wouldn't be expected to make an effort.

  And then her father had died.

  When he died, Kenzi's world was shaken to the core. She couldn't accept that her father, the one person who'd always understood her, was gone. And she couldn't forgive her mother for the speed with which she got over his death. A month after her father's body had been incinerated, her mother had announced she was contracting officially with her current lover. Kenzi filed emancipation papers and moved out that night.

  She had no trouble proving that she was able to look after herself because, along with her martial arts training, her father had instilled in her a strong, independent streak, encouraging her to do things for herself when she could. Her mother didn't contest the emancipation so there was no need for a hearing, and the paperwork was signed without needing to speak to her remaining parent. They were probably both relieved.

  She'd never seen her mother since the night she left, and she'd never cried after that, either—at least not until she'd met Tal. Her alien general had unlocked all the emotions she'd put away for years, and if it wasn't for him, she wouldn't be standing on an intergalactic ship finally realizing why she'd never opened up to any of her lovers about her desires, why she'd never tried kink until she'd made the extreme choice to dive into slavery.

  She'd thought it was just that she might hurt them by accident, and that was probably still true, because without trust, her body might very well have translated pain to attack and her reflexes could have kicked in, but there was more lurking under the surface and she puzzled it out bit by bit. She'd lost her father, whom she'd trusted more than anyone, and felt she'd been betrayed by her mother. Somehow, she'd decided that having faith in someone was a mistake she couldn't make again.

  She hadn't been able to let go of control with any of the men she'd dated back on Earth because she hadn't been able to trust them. And she couldn't handle having multiple partners because she'd seen how her father had been hurt by it. No, it was more than that. In a way, she'd been blaming her mother's polyamory for her father's death all along. Logically, she could see that this was somewhat unfair. Maybe his sadness had given him less to live for, or maybe it had made him slow on the job, but that probably wasn't the case.

  Her father had been a fighter and wasn't the type to give up, but she was just now realizing how deeply she'd felt it was her mother's fault. Maybe she'd have figured this out years ago, but she'd blocked it, refused to dwell on it. Moving out had started a new chapter of her life and she'd focused all her energy on the present not the past. She was only just now realizing that she'd never left the past behind at all and it had shaped every choice she made—even the ones that brought her here.

  The revelation shocked her, and she came to a halt, leaning against the wall, staring off into space and feeling somehow overwhelmed with emotions and numb at the same time. She didn't realize there were tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't realize that she'd begun to sob with renewed grief for her father and the mother she'd walked away from.

  Struggling to deal with the tide of emotions that were sweeping over her, she was no longer even aware of where she was.

  While Kenzi was halfway through her first experience of being shared with others, Tal had finally found the right time to contact his grandfather for advice on his plan. It didn't start off as well as he'd hoped.

  "You want to do what?" There was surprise in the warrior's gruff voice. Age had taken the musical undertone away years ago, and perhaps that's why his reply sounded so acerbic, but Tal had a feeling that was not the case.

  "I want to make her my mate," the general repeated calmly. "She is to me what your Rassa was to you," he added in a respectful tone. He knew how deeply his grandfather had cared for his human woman and was wary of setting him against the proposition by stepping on her memory.

  There was silence on the communiqué. It was a secured line, and the transmission had been made during the lull hours when he could arrange privacy a little easier. Not that he was doing anything wrong, of course. He had every right to contact a retired leader for advice, and even if he didn't, no one would question a g
eneral. It was only that he didn't want to be overheard. This was a delicate situation, for many reasons.

  Waiting for his grandfather to respond was agonizing but he had patience; he waited while the old man mulled it over, finally saying, "I never made Rassa my mate."

  And that was going to be a problem. It had never been done before, and his people, while eager to embrace new technology, tended to move slowly as a society. There were many ridiculously out-of-date traditions that he chaffed at but nevertheless had to endure when it came to mating. He'd never taken a mate before, and that was part of the reason why.

  "I know," Tal said. He had spent a lot of time deciding how he would approach this and what he would say, but now he found the words had escaped him and he was left fumbling for a convincing argument. "Did you ever want to?" he asked after a long pause.

  "I did. You know there was no other woman in my heart after I met her. If things had been different, perhaps I would have made the attempt. I approached the others of the triad about it and they were not in favor of the idea but would have supported me if I'd decided on that path," the old man admitted. There was a poignant tone of regret in his voice.

  Tal wasn't sure if he should ask, but he couldn't help himself. "Then, why? Why didn't you?" he asked.

  "Because she wouldn't have survived it." There was no doubt in the old general's voice, and Tal thought back to his memories of his grandfather's Pain Receiver.

  The tiny woman had been small, even by human standards—short and slight but with an inborne grace that made every step a dance. She'd been sweet, always with a smile for anyone who spoke to her—and fragile. So very fragile, like all humans were. Tal frowned, suddenly concerned there was a hidden danger to Kenzi.

  "What do you mean, survive? Who would harm the mate of a general?" he demanded.

  "Our tradition is that both mates must be strong enough to breed and able to protect the young. In most cases, warrior training and military service records mean that is simply taken for granted, but because Rassa was a human, there would have been challenge. She would have had to pass tests to prove her strength. Could you see my little Rassa raising a weapon to defend herself?" he asked, sounding sad.

  Tal couldn't, not in his wildest imagination, but Kenzi was strong and stubborn. She had determination and her files had claimed some kind of combat training, though he didn't credit that for much; humans just weren't made for fighting. Of course, it had never come up in their quarters, so he had no idea what basic skills she might possess. Her body, though, not the one they'd given her, but her original one, had been lean and there'd been muscle there showing some kind of athletics.

  "Rassa wouldn't, but Kenzi would if she had to," Tal said firmly. "Besides, tests aren't fatal. Accidents happen, but it's far from a forgone conclusion that she would have died."

  His grandfather cleared his throat. "No, you're right about that, but think Tal'aav, think of how hurt she would have been if I'd asked her to be my mate and then she'd failed. It would have crushed her spirit, and I would not take that risk of hurting her. Are you very sure you want to risk your Kenzi?"

  Tal closed his eyes and pressed both fists to his forehead as he considered what he was doing very carefully. Was it worth it just to give her status? Would she even want that? She'd signed up to be a slave, after all, but the look of misery on her face as he'd dropped her off with that young pup of a warrior had been heartbreaking. He'd wanted to wrap her up in a fur and carry her away to safely and it had taken all this resolve to walk away and leave her there.

  As his mate, she'd have more rights than a slave did. More importantly, he wouldn't be expected to share her with any but the highest rank or people close to them—and she would have the ability to decline. It could be politically unfortunate to decline the wrong person, but no mate could be forced to bed another against their will. He was sure Kenzi would think the risk worth it, in order to have the power to say no to others.

  Some of their laws were ridiculously out of date, anyway. The time when both parents were needed to protect their children from the giant predators that had roamed their planet was long gone. Females no longer needed extra strength to bear healthy young, either, because most of them no longer carried their gestating offspring. Many now went to the breeding center and arranged to have their genetic material mixed with their mate's, and then the resulting fetus was often deposited in an artificial womb in the crèche to grow.

  It made the most sense to do it that way, so no one was inconvenienced by the ten-month gestation period, and few chose to carry the young themselves anymore. They could visit and watch their children grow in the clear wombs, if they chose, or simply arrive when it was time to decant their offspring. A quick and easy solution that made more sense than having half of a pair out of commission for most of a planetary rotation.

  In the case of interbreeding with humans, they couldn't do it the traditional way, even if they wanted to; they weren't fertile together. If they wanted a child that came from both of them, it would have to be mixed in the breeding center, and then Kenzi could carry it or not, as she chose. It was always the women who made the choice, so all of this was unnecessary.

  "It's time to get rid of these useless old rules," he growled.

  His grandfather snorted, "Maybe when you rule someday, you can make that happen, but it won't help you in this. Unless you want your career to stop here, you must be seen to do things the traditional way; forcing change too fast ferments rebellion. Now, what is your choice?" he asked.

  Tal sighed, knowing the retired general was right. It just didn't sit well with him. It was one more symptom of the things he wanted to change, but to get the power to make those changes, he needed to rise to the triad—and to do that, he needed Kenzi at his side. "She's strong. She can handle this," he said finally, hoping he was right.

  There was silence, and then his grandfather accepted his choice. "I'll test her, myself. I can match your trajectory and board your ship in perhaps a few days." He paused. "I think it would be better if you didn't tell her I was coming. Let me look at her first, and if she seems unlikely to pass, we can speak of this again before it's too late," he suggested.

  It was clearly his choice, but it made sense, and he agreed. "I'll await your arrival, and I won't say anything to her. I won't see her for another week, anyway. She's doing her first sharing period with our top five warriors right now," he explained.

  After a few brief pleasantries were exchanged, he ended the call and sat back to think about what was happening. This could either be a very good thing or a very bad thing, and he wasn't going to know which until his grandfather arrived.

  10

  Kenzi had always had difficulty showing emotions in front of others, and crying was something she was just learning how to do after years of locking things away. The Sadecs, but in particular, Tal had introduced her to the catharsis that could come from physical pain, and it was as though it had broken down the walls inside of her.

  She'd started feeling things more deeply, and now emotional pain, too, could bring on the tears, but she'd have chosen a more private place to let it all out if she'd been at all able to control what was happening to her. Misery, yes, pain, too, but the salty rivers pouring down her face came from a deeper well.

  The soul-wrenching sobs attracted the attention of the passing warrior who had a soft spot for female humans and he moved over to see what had her so hysterical. She seemed so unsteady that he grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him as he spoke. "Girl, what is—"

  His words were interrupted when he found himself being thrown bodily across the corridor. He landed in an ignoble heap that did very little for his age or dignity, but his reflexes had him back on his feet almost before he could process what had happened.

  Kenzi stared in horror. For all her fears that this might happen on Earth, she'd never expected to take a warrior by surprise. She couldn't even imagine what the punishment would be, and she could tell he was no ordinary Sadec. She
recognized the marks of an officer, and the silver in the hair hinted at age, though she'd never seen an elderly Sadec before, so she could be wrong.

  "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean—it was an accident," she blurted, nearly panicked as she backed up against the wall.

  To her surprise, he didn't seem angry. If anything, he seemed curious and…pleased? She couldn't make out the expression exactly, but it wasn't what she'd expected. "You surprised me," she added, in case that helped.

  He looked her over, from head to foot, without speaking. "Your name, girl?" he asked. His tone was neutral and gave her no warning.

  "K-Kenzi, Sir. I'm sorry. Are you hurt?" she asked, clearly nervous.

  His mouth twitched at her name, and she wondered why. "I'm unhurt, and don't apologize. That was very well done. You've had some training?" he asked.

  "Y-yes. On Earth, I studied martial arts for most of my life," she admitted. There was some embarrassment there. It felt similar to a child showing off a drawing to a famous artist. She'd never actually seen a Sadec in battle, but all reports said they were among the best fighters in the universe and what she'd seen as they sparred backed up that claim.

  He stared impassively and then changed the subject. "Why were you crying?"

  Now she was even more embarrassed. She wiped at her face with the back of her arm, wishing the Sadec uniforms provided some sort of sleeve she could use. "I'm not—to be honest, I'm not sure. It was just memories, I think. I'm still getting used to being away from home," she added, hoping that would be enough of an excuse.

  "I see," he said. "Come with me," he ordered. He held out a hand to her, this time being careful not to grab her.

  "But I should be going back to my quarters. General Tal'aav will be waiting," she said, shrinking back against the wall.

  "I won't hurt you, girl. My quarters are just there—" He pointed down the hall. "I thought you would like to wash your face."