Isari slapped his palm onto the bio-tech panel and the door to his quarters slid open. While he poured two glasses of sharigan, Varpin assembled holographic files that hovered over the table in front of their chairs in the small seating area. After an hour, Isari was rifling his fingers through his long dark hair in frustration and scanning the sample photos along with the specs spread before them. Where he was impulsive and instinctively drawn to methods of attack, Varpin was more of a strategist and researched their enemies’ flaws. Together, they made a perfect team for leading one of the most successful battleships in their battalion, and they used these same attributes to select their commissions.
Varpin looked up at the Commander and could see that his brother was almost as frustrated as he was. He had been trying to corner Isari for months to make a decision. “We’re running out of time. Our request has to be placed this week or they’ll stick us with the most adaptable, common request. I don’t know about you, but the thought of spending another century with an Alidan does not excite me. I’d rather stick with a damn Yatlin.”
“Look, out of the thirty or so available species, we’ve at least narrowed it down to these six,” Isari replied. More than half of the species on their original list resembled plants and were discarded immediately. The thought of a species that could instantaneously grow new limbs, dig roots into the metal deck or spit pollen was not arousing to either warrior. “If we hadn’t got caught up in this mess with the rogue, we would have had more time to go through this.”
Varpin smiled. The Commander always downplayed the importance and dangers of their missions. “First of all, this ‘mess’ in the Shriton Quadrant saved two passenger vessels and a supply ship. Second of all, we’ve had fifty years to be working on this. I don’t think we’re going to earn an extension on our commissions… especially after the last species we tried,” Varpin answered.
Isari growled. The Miptriks had been his choice. “Well how the hell were we supposed to know that the species couldn’t be played with? A little light whipping should not have sent them into irreversible apoplectic seizures, and Procurement should have profiled them better. It’s not like they don’t know what warriors expect.” Isari huffed out excuses.
Varpin separated the photos into two groups, and then looked at the ‘X’ beginning to glow on one. “Shit, this one is going to be pulled. It’s the Baranthas that the warriors from the Battleship Nidell commissioned.” Varpin looked up at Isari and he could tell by his expression the Commander shared his opinion that the species being pulled was not much of a loss.
Varpin laughed. “Oops… those bad boys.” He imagined the creature in the photograph crouching in terror behind a boulder on Lameria while one of his warrior brothers smiled down on it. He had no idea what they could have done to get the species pulled, but after studying the large pets with the three monstrous breasts and the horizontal slit for impaling and thrusting located just below their naval, Varpin could not figure out what the appeal had been in the first place. “Guess our brothers on the Nidell were sick of Alidans, too,” he shrugged.
“Yeah, well Farvell called to ream me out over getting the Miptriks ousted. Thanks to him, at least we know Baranthas aren’t adaptable either,” Isari replied.
Varpin pointed to the two separated stacks of chosen photos. “These three have already passed profiling as acceptable. If something happens, we get a replacement of Procurement’s choice.”
“Which basically sticks us with Alidans,” Isari muttered. “God, they’re ugly.” He looked at the two rows of pictures. “I think Harvesting Procurement does this on purpose. They pick out the grossest species and tell us we can take them or chance a wait for another century if the commissions we choose don’t work out.”
“The two over here are listed as probabilities, but they have no guarantees, just like the Miptriks.” Varpin pointed to one of the photos. “The Zillipias are bigger… close to seven feet, like us. Unfortunately, they all look and act exactly alike,” Varpin stated.
“What the hell do you expect from a species that splits and divides to procreate? I’m surprised they still have the orifices to accomplish sex.” Isari studied the picture of the exotic species.
“The reason they altered was because the males became violent… so they eradicated them. I imagine the sex organs will mutate completely within the next thousand years. They might be fun though, seeing how much they despise men,” Varpin suggested.
“Yes, but that whole mouth across the forehead thing, bugs me. I mean, shit. She’ll walk around with two black eyes all the time from my balls banging into them.” The two men envisioned the upside down features sucking them and they burst out laughing. Varpin tossed the picture of the Zillipias into the ‘No’ stack.
In the ‘Yes’ pile were the Alidan’s, of course, with the prime example proudly displayed in all its rotund, lumpy gray glory. Farmoths were slender and nervous, never making a sound or move without specifically being ordered to. When whipped or played with, they closed their eyes and mouths and retreated into nothing more than a wooden post. Then, there were the Villinias, sporting two long and two short legs, which also substituted as arms. They walked on all fours and had to have their gills sewn shut and two years of adjustment to oxygen before they could be used. That left the one remaining photo in the ‘Probable’ stack.
Isari picked it up and studied the pet. “They look a lot like I envisioned the females of Lameria must have appeared.”
“They’re small though, so I think that’s the problem Harvesting Procurement has with them. The average height is only about five six, though there are taller ones. Colorful, aren’t they? From what I’ve gathered, their eyes, skin, and fur color come in almost any combination,” Varpin informed him.
Isari turned over the photo of the yellow furred female, already feeling a stirring in his groin. He studied the specs, and said, “They have all the orifices… and if their offspring weighs in at seven pounds and fits down the chute, they should work.”
“Procurement will pull them after testing and ship them to some other division if they don’t pass,” Varpin reminded him. He tilted his head to look at the picture and felt his rod thicken while Isari continued to read the specs. “Hell, I’m sending for a Yatlin. You want one, or do you want to share?”
“Better get me my own. I think our cocks have made our decision for us. Let’s see which ones are still available and make sure Ebby is in charge of their testing. She’s the only one I trust not to sabotage the Procurement by accepting an incompatible and losing us our commission until next century,” Isari replied.
Twenty minutes later, they viewed the holographic monitor hovering over the table between them. While the Yatlins busied themselves with the warriors’ cocks, they studied the remaining available pets. Only one hundred of the exotic species was allowed to be commissioned, and fifty-eight were already claimed.
“How come Royals and Hospitality already knew about them?” Isari asked. “Shit, they’ve been grabbing them for the last two commissioning cycles.” He felt an uncharacteristic need to protect the species, and a venting anger that other classifications were commissioning them.
“Hospitality is a branch of Royals, and most of the officers elected to the classifications are related. If they discover a unique commissionable species they would share the knowledge between their classifications. The Royals, of course, always get a heads-up on commissioning schedules. Hell, they have to sign off on them before they’re approved. This gives them a decided advantage and advance warning on exotic species like this one.” Varpin picked up his notes, and read, “The planet is only scheduled for harvest every two hundred years because it’s so far out in primitive space.”
Knowing how much Isari distrusted the Royals, Varpin replied weakly, “I guess they never thought to offer them to us. They were buried towards the bottom of ‘Probable’ species stack and I only came across them by accident.” Varpin gazed at the alluring creature and felt a rising n
eed he did not usually experience when he was being tended to by an android. He placed his hands on the Yatlin’s head and pushed down so he thrust fully into its spongy throat. A few deep strokes and he groaned his release.
After catching his breath, he continued. “The available pets are prescreened for immunities and physical compatibilities, and they all have no lineage to leave behind.” Risking Isari’s building anger with the system, Varpin continued. “After the Frital Union got involved with commissioned pets’ rights, they had it passed that harvesting could not split up families. It knocked out over five hundred species that had been available.”
“They’re pets, for god’s sakes.” Isari picked up the photo with the specs on the exotic they were concentrating on, and said dismissively, “According to this, most of this species’ mothers abandon their young when they’re only a few decades old, anyway.” Isari studied the picture and a tightening feeling pulled his balls, shooting his load through his cock in an explosive manner. There was something different about these exotics that definitely aroused him.
“The damn Union needs to mind their own business,” Varpin agreed. “Eventually, they’re going to try to pass laws so that we have to commission from our own quadrant, and then it’s only a matter of time before we’re stuck with our own species.”
The uneasy thought passed silently between the two men as they thought of the few remaining females on Lameria. They were pale and weak, and sequestered behind the walls of the Birthing Temple. Only ten of the women had survived whatever plague had killed their sisters, and no new females had been born in over five thousand years. The power of the quartz surrounding them was all that kept them alive. It was an unnerving reminder that their species was becoming extinct. The remaining women delivered three babies a year, all male, and removed from their mother’s sides when they were three days old. The men had no idea which of the women was their mother, and all Lamerian warriors considered themselves brothers.
Isari’s eyes focused onto an intense brown stare, with golden waves of shining fur surrounding flashing white teeth. “Hold up, let me see more of this one.” Varpin waved his hand over the slightly transparent picture, and Isari gazed at a young woman in a skimpy two-piece garment that showed off large breasts, a small waist, and long legs. The picture from the back was equally appealing and his withered cock jerked at the site of the flared hips. The Yatlin android took it as a sign and began pumping his organ. “That one,” Isari gasped, mesmerized by the beautiful exotic. “Put me in for that one.”
Three pictures later, Varpin located a pretty brunette. Her eyes were as blue as the Lamerian skies and reminded him of his home planet. The slightly wary look on her face made him think she might be more timid than his Commander’s choice, but he really liked her eyes.
* * * * *
A mere two quadrants away, Ebby sat before her holographic directory, studying the flashing locators of the last harvested pets. Three of the lights were dimming and she rubbed her hand absently over her heart. It was a sinking feeling, because she thought the species might be too weak to be commissioned by the warriors, but she had personally passed them through Procurement in hopes that the brave protectors had found another adaptable companion species.
Garnell walked up behind her, and he could tell by the slump of her shoulders that she was distressed. “Lameria?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “I warned them that they were a barely passable species but they did not want to get stuck with Alidans. Just short of insulting them, I insinuated their tastes might be a little too extreme for Baranthas.” She turned her pale face to her partner and pouted. “I hate working with warriors. Instead of a calm adjustment period for the harvested animal, they make a cruel game out of capturing them. I’ve tried so hard to find them alternatives.”
“It is their nature, Ebby,” Garnell replied, kneading her sloping shoulders with his flat hands. “They have one year on planet every century to claim and train their pets. Most of them have been dealing with Yatlins for decades by then, so naturally they get excited.”
“Still, they don’t consider…”
“Hush, Ebby. We do our best with the harvesting, and the Baranthas did look like a strong possibility in physical stature. They had six inches on the warriors and skin as tough as an Alidans. There is no way to know how they will perform psychologically until they are released on planet. We cannot be held responsible for anything outside of physical compatibilities. If the warriors did not insist on chasing them, they might have made it.” Garnell kissed the top of her smooth head. “I’ll order them pulled from planet.”
“Is there a gathering ship close to Lameria?” she asked, nervously watching the lights become even dimmer.
“Yes.” Garnell smiled compassionately. “I saw the directory yesterday and figured they were failing, but you know I always wait for you to make the final decision. Azena’s ship is close, and they have spare Alidans to exchange. The warriors won’t be pleased, but she’ll remind them that it was their decision to try them. Technically, they were not listed as a species that would allow them a replacement.”
“I’ll pull the Baranthas off the warrior list of possible species. They might work well for the Realm fighters, but not the Lamerians. I sure as hell don’t want to face the mess of a discrimination hearing from the Frital Union.” Ebby shuddered.
“You know, we have two more of the Lamerian warriors commissioning, and one of them is a Commander,” Garnell reminded her.
Ebby put her head in her hands, and said, “Please tell me they didn’t request Baranthas.”
“No. They have commissioned Primitives from a two hundred world.” Garnell was still in school the last time the planet had been harvested for pets.
Ebby looked up warily, running their primitive acquisition planets and available species through her mind. Her eyes widened. “Which planet?”
“Earth,” Garnell replied, and he watched her slump over the desk and groan.
Chapter I
Florida
Running. Chest heaving and sweat trickling between her breasts and forming an almost reflective sheen on her body while her bare feet raced along the dirt and she avoided the rocks. She was naked, except for black cuffs on her wrists and ankles, and a collar locked around her neck. A growl behind her. Not an animal… it was him.
She could hear the water now, crashing over boulders and spilling into the river. Beneath the waterfall, the cave. The roaring water acted like a curtain, hiding both the vision of what would happen in the alcove… and the screams. She scrambled along the wet rocks and stood still in the dimly lit cavern, watching the sheet of water and panting, sucking in quick gasping breaths.
Oh, god.
He did not sidle along the edge of the rocks. His giant, muscular form walked through the spray. His dark eyes narrowed, still focused with determination but crinkling at the sides in slight amusement. She backed up, slowly edging to the rear wall until she felt the rough rocks against her bottom. He came closer, and her eyes were drawn to the erection outlined in his tight breeches.
Oh, god.
She stared into his eyes again. The only thing left in their shining black depths was lust. Lust and desire… desire for her… desire for her pain. He crushed against her, flattening her breasts against his massive chest wall and grinding his hips into hers so hard that she was sure his cock was bruising her. His fist gripped through her hair, forcing her head back so he could look at her fear. Moaning. Moaning into his mouth, because his lips were pressed against hers and his tongue demanded her surrender.
He let go of her hair and she raised her hands to hold the sides of his head to force him closer… to try to regain some control. He would not allow it. Never would he allow it. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them over her head, locking her cuffs to the chains in the wall. Her whimpers were drowned inside his kiss.
His hand slid over her breast, twisting her pebbled nipple until she shrieked into his mouth. The hand trailed lower
, over her naked pussy and separating her bald lips to stroke her wet slit. She pressed into his fingers rubbing… grinding herself against his strong hand and feeling his finger brushing her clit, forcing her to want him.
He stepped back, staring into her half closed eyes and watching her wanton thrusting into his hand. He shook his head and water sprayed across her body from the long, soaking strands. He reached up to the wall beside her.
Oh, god.
The whip uncoiled and her eyes fixed on it, darted to his for the briefest instant and then back to the whip while she obediently spread her legs. His powerful arm drew back and she stared at the whip, begging it to lash out. The moment drew long; impossible torment. She moaned again, finally looking into his eyes and pleading. This was what he was waiting for, and the whip snapped forward… blinding speed… a singeing burn across her belly while her passion leaked onto her thigh. Her scream… muffled indeed, by the waterfall.
“Holy shit,” Rue whispered. Where the hell did that come from? She squeezed her legs together, still aroused by the unlikely dream. It seemed too real and she ran her fingers over her stomach, almost expecting to feel the welt.
The August heat was brutal this year, especially since the air conditioner had busted. Added to that, a tequila hangover hammered persistently behind her eyes. Rue was half awake, sprawled across her beige sheets and pissed off while she tried to peel her sweaty, sticky body off the damp linens. An eyelid managed to lift just enough to give her a quick look over at the empty pillow beside her, and she felt a small measure of relief that she had not been so drunk she had let some hick loser spend the night.
Harvesting Rue Page 2
