by Tristan Vick
Raven slammed her fist on a button and shut the door to the bridge and shivered in disgust. “That guy gives me the creeps,” she whispered to herself.
After Kregor treated everyone to a nice dehydrated pack of spicy Dragonian ramen with a side of Angorian wild turkey and some kind of sprout-like vegetable, the emperor and Cassera asked to be excused. The spice did not seem to sit well with them.
Gyllek offered to show them to the guest quarters, thinking they were a couple, and they followed after her.
As they headed off, Cassera paused and looked back at Jegra with dismay. “I do not see how you can stuff your face with that reptilian slag.” She grimaced and then walked away.
“Don’t listen to them,” Jegra said, slurping up the noodles quite noisily. “This stuff is awesome!”
Kregor laughed and slapped Jegra across her bare back. His swat was so strong she actually felt it. The stun of it caused her to pause, and they shared a look and then both started bellowing with laughter.
A few moments later Kregor got up and opened a small pantry. He then brought out a bottle. “This is Dragonian shochu. Made from a rare, bitter red potato and sweetened with fermenting pill bugs.”
“So, you’re saying it’s alcohol made from bug guts?”
“Only partially. It has that potato base,” he said, offering her some of the wine-red drink. It was the consistency of stew.
She thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “Why not? Fill me up!”
“Excellent!” he boomed. “None of the crew will drink it with me. They find Dragonian cuisine revolting.”
“Well, I’m not any of them, am I?”
“No. You are Jegra the Magnificent!” he said filling her glass all the way to the brim. “I’ve watched nearly all of your bouts. You are the best warrior since La’Garren.”
“La’Garren Bosch? I’ve heard of him. But I never had the privilege of meeting him. He was before my time.”
“That’s too bad. That would have made for an epic match. Old champion verses new.”
“I did fight Abethca though,” she said. “She was a returning champion.”
“But not a reigning champion. She fought for her freedom and left. You easily obtained your freedom in, I believe your first month, correct? But chose to stay. You are a true warrior!”
Jegra looked up at him, mouth agape, noodles hanging out of her mouth. Biting the noodles away, she swallowed hard and asked, “What do you mean I gained my freedom in the first month? I hadn’t won three hundred matches yet.”
“It’s not three hundred matches,” Kregor chuckled. “It’s three hundred kills. You easily racked that up in your first month.”
Jegra sat, dumbfounded. She had been a free woman for over a year and hadn’t even realized it. Funny that nobody, not even Emperor Dakroth, had the courtesy to inform her of it.
“Is something the matter?” Kregor asked.
“No,” Jegra said, raising her cup. It wasn’t as though she would have even known what to do with herself after a month anyway. So, she decided it was best to let bygones be. “To champions!”
“To you!” Kregor said and they clanked their glasses together.
Three Dragonian ales later, Jegra was quite buzzed. Staggering to her feet, she found her balance and then said, “I probably should turn in for the evening. Do you mind showing me to my quarters, kind sir?” She had a nice buzz and was feeling flirtatious, so she batted her eyes at him and held out her hand for him to take.
“I’d love to,” Kregor said, rising slowly to his feet. He was a bit wobbly, too. He helped her up but staggered backward, almost toppling over.
Jegra clutched his hand in hers and reeled him back into her. His strong chest smashed into her voluptuous breast and they gazed at one another for longer than she intended. She finally broke their gaze and turned away, her cheeks blushing.
“This way,” he said motioning toward a curved corridor.
They stumbled up the corridor together, swaying on tipsy legs. As they went, she tried her best to get a handle on the floorplan of the ship. As far as she could discern, the layout of the rooms was like that of an old-fashioned wagon wheel.
At the center of the ship’s living quarters were the coed showers and restroom. The crew’s quarters wrapped around the hub of the bathroom like a wheel, and the spokes were the corridors that led to the various areas of the ship.
Due to her crippling dizziness, Jegra paused to lean on the wall. “On second thought, I don’t think we’ll make it. Just leave me here.”
“Nonsense,” Kregor said, resting his hands on his knees as he tried not to teeter over and fall on his face. “I shall carry you!” he announced.
Jegra reached out for his hand and he tried to grab it but they missed one another. She laughed and they tried again, this time making a connection.
Reeling each other in, they met in the middle of the corridor and, swaying together as if caught up in some maudlin dance, their eyes locked.
Although reptiles didn’t sweat, Jegra was sweating enough for the both of them. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” she inquired, fanning her glistening chest.
Kregor gulped. “Sorry,” he apologized for no reason, seeing as it was no fault of his. “I’ll see about the thermostat.”
“Nah,” she said, latching onto his arm for support. “I like it hot.” She batted her eyes at him and said in a sensuous voice, “Real hot.”
She could tell he viewed her as a celebrity and so was reluctant to be brazenly smitten with her. However, this made him even more attractive in her eyes. And, besides, she wasn’t going to lie. She wouldn’t say no if he decided to man up and make a move.
13
Reeling from the Dragonian ale, they made their way up and down the corridors in what seemed like a slow-motion jaunt where gravity continually shifted about. Staggering up to a door, they both leaned on the wall to try and get their bearings. “Please tell me this is it,” said Jegra.
“This is it,” Kregor answered. “I think.”
Jegra scrunched her nose up and gave him a coy look. “You think?”
Kregor scratched his chin. “I’m ninety-five percent sure.”
“Good enough for me,” she chortled. With that, she slapped the panel on the wall next to the door with the palm of her hand and the door swooshed open.
A pleasant, earthy scent greeted her as she poked her head inside and looked around. She took in a deep breath and smiled. It reminded her of the forests back home.
The inside was quaint, like a standard hotel room. Just a bed tucked into an inset wall, a small desk, and a vid-screen.
A green, leafy plant in the corner of the room added a bit of warmth; its genuine soil added a nice, earthy scent. Other than that, it was as spartan as it gets. But she wasn’t complaining. A bed was a bed, and she was aching to fall into one and drift off to sleep.
Still light-headed, Jegra shuffled into the room and opened a slide away panel that revealed a closet full of clothes, most of which she was sure were far too tight to fit her athletic and busty build. Sliding the first panel shut she opened another and found a personal toilet. “Where’s the shower?” she asked.
“There are shared, coed stalls down the hallway at the center of the living area,” Kregor said, thumbing over his shoulder. “I could stand guard if you want to take a rinse in private.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m exhausted,” Jegra said. She yawned loudly, placing her hands on her hips and arching her back as she stretched. A habit she’d formed from endless nights of sore muscles. “I’ll shower tomorrow. Right now, I think I’ll turn in for the evening.”
Kregor smiled and tottered back on his heels, his large boots clunking on the floor. “Well, in that case, I suppose this is where I ought to bid you goodnight.”
Without warning, Jegra leaned forward and kissed Kregor on his forest green lips. The kiss apparently startled him and he drew back and gave her a surprised look.
> “I’m sorry,” she said, brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. She looked up at him, her cheeks glowing bright pink, and batted her eyelashes. “I don’t know why I did that,” she laughed.
“It’s the alcohol,” Kregor replied. “Dragonian ale has that effect on people.”
“It makes them horny?” Jegra teased.
“No, drunk,” Kregor chuckled.
“I know what you mean,” she said, biting her lower lip. “Hey, you maybe want to stay the night?”
“I can’t,” Kregor replied, diverting his gaze as though he were ashamed of something.
“Why not?” Jegra asked. “Who knows? It might be kind of fun.”
“As much as I appreciate the offer, I doubt it would be pleasant for you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You’ve obviously never been with a Dragonian before,” he said with a drunken lisp.
“Was it that obvious?” she asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she gazed into his eau-de Nil-colored eyes.
“Dragonians have barbed genitals,” he confessed.
Jegra squinted at him and tried to figure out if he was pulling her leg or not. She’d never been with a Dragonian so she didn’t know much about the anatomy of the lizard people.
“Are you messing with me?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said, sounding remorseful.
Her eyes fell to his crotch and she stared long and hard. “Screw it. Now I have to see,” she said, a grin spreading across her face. Reaching up, she grabbed Kregor by his neck and pulled him into her lips.
Unprepared for her extreme sexual aggression, Kregor stumbled into her and, together, they staggered back and fell onto the bed.
Kregor kicked off his boots and hastily began unbuttoning his uniform while Jegra already had her bikini top off and was vigorously wriggling out of her bottoms.
Eager to get it on with the Dragonian, which she figured might be an evolved dragon, if dragons had ever existed, she helped him peel off his uniform. She yanked at his shirt, pulling it down around his shoulders, then she sat up. His knees straddling her thighs, she wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed hard to let him feel her strength and began fondling his dark green nipples with her teeth.
As she felt him grow more excited by her vigorous foreplay, she reached down and helped him slip out of his pants, taking everything off in one fell swoop. Tossing their garments aside, she looked down at him in all his glory; she studied him with keen interest. “Oh my God!” she cried out excitedly.
“I told you,” he said.
Out in the hallway, Skuld and Gyllek were heading back to their sleeping quarters after their shifts.
“I’ve always enjoyed the long, leisurely cruises,” Skuld said to her. “It gives me time to catch up on the latest scientific journals from seven different systems.”
“Not me,” Gyllek said, letting out a sigh. “I get stir crazy on these deep space voyages.” She paused in the middle of the corridor. Skuld paused along with her and listened, alerted by the expression on her face and the fact that she put her hand to her ear. “Did you hear that?”
Skuld cocked his fish-head in his aquatic helmet and listened. “If I’m not mistaken, it sounds like … giggling.”
“It’s coming from over here,” Gyllek said, sneaking up to the door and putting her ear against it.
“I don’t think we should be listening in on someone else’s private affairs,” Skuld said.
“It sounds like Kregor and Jegra are about to bump uglies,” she said, a slight grin forming on her face.
“Bumping uglies is actually an extremely apt description of intergalactic multispecies pansexual activity,” he informed her. “It’s not always pretty and in about thirteen percent of the cases it can even prove fatal.”
Gyllek nodded as though she were listening to him when, in actuality, she was listening to what was going on behind the closed door. After a moment, she peeled her ear away from the door. A confused expression fell across her face and she asked, “Skuld?”
“Yes?”
“What’s leafy artichoke plant?”
“I believe it is an edible plant that resembles a Terran pinecone and is rather prickly, if I’m not mistaken.”
A smile spread from one ear to another and she pressed her ear up against the door again. “And what’s a cucumber?”
“It’s another edible plant about yay long.” He held his hands apart at about twenty inches.
Gyllek’s eyes grew impossibly large, as though she’d just seen a ghost, and she gulped. It dawned on her what was prickly like an artichoke but as long as a cucumber.
“Are they making a salad?” Skuld asked, rather perplexed by all the produce questions.
“Something like that,” Gyllek said.
A loud moan erupted from inside the bedroom and they turned to each other, surprised expressions plastered on their faces as all the pieces of the puzzle came together.
Another series of moans broke out and was promptly followed by a loud orgasmic gasp and Jegra’s voice screaming out, “Yes, yes, yes!”
“Ah, I see. It all becomes clear to me,” Skuld said, raising a finger. “An interesting fact about Dragonian genitalia,” he began, but before he could finish his sentence Gyllek grabbed his webbed hand and towed him away from Jegra’s room.
Inside Jegra’s guest quarters, she clutched the bedspread with sweaty palms and strained her neck as her face turned beat red. Pausing momentarily, Jegra raised up to her elbows and gave Kregor a mystified look.
He stopped mid stroke and asked, “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” she replied. “I thought I heard something.”
He listened for a bit and then shrugged.
“Never mind,” she said.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, still nervous about the anatomical differences between their species.
“God, no!” Jegra gasped. “Don’t ever stop.”
But just as soon as he resumed, the door chimed quite unexpectedly, forcing a premature end to their fun.
“Oh, shit,” Jegra said, covering her mouth with her hand. It felt as though one of their parents had unexpectedly returned home from work only to catch them in the act.
“Maybe it is for the best,” he said, climbing off her.
“Wait,” Jegra whispered. “We could just ignore it.”
“As tempting as that offer sounds,” he informed her, “there’s a strict policy against fraternizing aboard this ship; I believe this qualifies.” He quickly dressed and then looked down at her one last time. “It has been a pleasure, Jegra.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” she insisted.
Kregor opened the door and rushed out of Jegra’s quarters, almost crashing into his captain, Raven Nightguard.
“Kregor?” she asked in an amused yet somewhat puzzled tone. Strange, she thought. He looked flustered. But he never got flustered.
“Pardon me, captain,” he said, shuffling past her. “I was just … Jegra wanted to … I need to fix the…” Unable to find right excuse to adequately explain himself, he stared awkwardly at his captain, who stared back at him. “So, yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. Then, without so much as waiting to be dismissed, he raced off down the corridor.
Raven laughed, not quite knowing what had gotten into him. Entering Jegra’s quarters, still looking over her shoulder at Kregor, she said, “In all my years, I’ve never seen that man blush. Until now.”
With a swish of air, the door slid shut behind Raven. Coming around the corner of the inlet, she looked down to find Jegra sprawled out on her side, her head propped up on one arm, her other arm resting on the cusp of her hip, and not a trace of modesty on her. “And you’re naked,” she said, abruptly looking away.
“Is there something I can do for you, Captain?”
“Yes. Do you mind putting on some clothes, perhaps?”
Jegra held up her metal bikini and sighed. “Space isn
’t exactly made for barbarian girls’ sport’s attire, if you catch my meaning. You wouldn’t happen to have anything a bit more space worthy, would you?”
“I think there may be a stretch suit in here that might fit you,” Raven said, sliding open the wall panel. Ruffling through some outfits, she found one and pulled it out.
“Oh, that’ll do nicely,” Jegra said, taking the black outfit from Raven. It was a futuristic black spandex suit with a yellow stripe trailing down both sides of it.
It looked like something right out of the movie Tron. Squeezing into it, Jegra stretched out any creases and then zipped up. To her pleasant surprise, the zipper went up and over the massif that was her chest without a hiccup.
“Now, tap that little blinking green LED on the cuff just under your wrist,” Raven informed her.
Jegra did as instructed and the suit refitted itself to her dimensions. Precisely. She was astonished by how easily she could move in it.
In the arena, she wore whatever they gave her. Most of it uncomfortable armor which was more for show than for utility, in fact, most of the outfits hindered her movement, which is why she chose to go with the stripped-down chainmail bikini. At least it was comfortable. But nothing compared to this space-age spandex suit.
“This is so freaking awesome! And stretchy,” she chirped.
“Glad you approve,” replied Raven.
“I doubt you came here to try on clothes and braid each other’s hair.” Still a little frustrated that Raven had interrupted her coitus, Jegra placed her hands on her spandex clad hips and shot the blue-skinned, purple-eyed vixen a scrutinizing look. “So, what do you want?”
“I know you have a reputation for being able to take care of yourself. Even so, I feel I should warn you to be careful around Emperor Dakroth. He isn’t the benevolent ruler everyone thinks he is. He’s a cruel, bloodthirsty, dictator that would kill you in a heartbeat if it served his best interest.”
“You don’t need to tell me,” Jegra said, her voice growing serious. “I’m fully aware of Dakroth’s double faced, scheming nature.”
And without meaning to, Jegra’s memory flashed back to that terrible, awful, bloody day.
