by Cain, Corin
Raekon snorts. “The Scorp Blood tried is no rumor. General Asmod was blooded, remember? The effects of Scorp Venom are true and tested.”
I scoff: “Oh yes? Then why did General Asmod leave no heirs? What does that mean to your theory?” It’s a fair question – shrouded, too, in rumors and hearsay.
While the Scorp Blood tribe is a myth, it is true that one of our people’s most distinguished warriors took a full injection of lethal Scorp Venom and lived to tell the tale of it. One drop of the poison is usually enough to leave even an Aurelian warrior screaming and twitching in agony, as his blood feels like it’s boiling from within.
General Asmod was struck by the poisoned barb of a Scorp warrior, however, and managed to endure the poison – living for days when most Aurelians succumb within minutes, and eventually recovering his wits and strength while most Aurelians suffer a tortuous death.
But Asmod had not been unchanged by his experiences. The Scorp Venom surged visibly through his veins – green and glowing beneath his marble skin.
He’d grown stronger, too – and more brutal. He’d become one of the most legendary of our military commanders; feared even by his own ranks for his superhuman strength and rage.
Yet the myth that Scorp Venom allows an Aurelian to breed with any human female? Surely not… Asmod had no heirs to speak of…
Not officially…
…although there were hushed tales that the brutal war general had a secret son.
“General Asmod was a great man, taken down in his prime,” proclaims Raekon, slamming his fist against the console.
A tendril of unease comes over me. We three are alone on our Reaver, but such words are dangerous. General Asmod fought and died in close-combat against Emperor Reagan – and whether you supported or opposed him is a subject of much controversy among Aurelians.
With Asmod’s death, a new era for the Aurelian Empire had been ushered in – starting with the rule of Emperor Reagan’s Aurelian triad, and the rise of the controversial human Queen Jasmine.
Even between the three of us, these are dangerous topics to be discussing so heatedly.
“Careful with your words, hot-blood,” I caution my battle-brother.
“Humanity is weak, foolish, and helpless,” Raekon ignores my warning. “We have strayed too far from the old ways. There was a time when we kept them safe whether they wanted us to or not… and their females belonged to us.”
A shudder goes through me. In the Early Empire, human females were seen as possessions of Aurelian warriors; not merely under their protection.
Today, the famous harems of our species are filled with willing human women; who eagerly volunteer for the comfort and luxury of life with an Aurelian master…
But it wasn’t always this way. Back in our darker past, Aurelians would take the females, as slaves...
It’s a shameful chapter of our people’s history – but shameful not just because it happened. It’s shameful because even I sometimes wonder about the wisdom of abandoning the old ways.
There is something so utterly powerful about the thought of training a resisting human female – of subjugating a woman who has yet to admit her need to submit, and didn’t give herself willingly to her Aurelian master.
I force such thoughts from my mind. I know it is an evil desire – beneath our civilized, sophisticated species…
…and yet it’s a desire that feels so true to my nature.
We are not our nature. We are not beasts.
“You’re talking about slavery,” Leon chastises Raekon with the courage I suddenly find myself lacking. “That is not the way to claim a woman, Raekan. The way to claim a woman is to make her beg for your touch… To make her beg to be taken hard.” His soft voice a direct contrast to his hard words; but in some ways that characterizes the contradiction of life as an Aurelian.
We are a people of contrast – so civilized and sophisticated in peace, and yet so brutal and feral in war. So protective and respectful in our rule of the galaxy, and yet so dominant and masterful in our ownership of those females who offer their submission to us.
It’s a contrast made even worse by the situation we now find ourselves in. The three of us have been driven crazy. The only thing we’d spoken about for years was the thought of finally being stationed on Territus – with access to the human population and the women we so rightly craved and desired.
And yet the moment we landed, we were sent away - and now my triad will be back to the outskirts of the Aurelian Empire, fighting more Scorp hordes even deeper in their infested territory.
Instead of in the arms of willing human women, the next decade will be spent in more brutal violence. Instead of sensual pleasure, we’ll face ten more years fighting for our very lives.
“You speak of the way to claim a woman as if you know such a thing,” scoffs Raekon, mocking Leon’s righteous words. He might be sparring with Leon verbally, but his aura never changes though our Bond. Even on a friendly planet, Raekon is ready for battle – training the sights of that Orb-Gun he mans through the skies above Territus, ready to take on any comers.
There are none, though. We punch out of the atmosphere and Territus disappears behind us – suddenly looking as small and bright as an amber gemstone beneath us; brown, orange and welcoming.
Welcoming. Ha! I ache to turn the ship around – but I have my orders.
“As if any of us know the first thing about claiming a woman,” I snort. “We know nothing other than what the elders have told us!” The three of us break into laughter at the truth of my words. For all our talk, we have yet to even taste a woman – except in our dreams and desires.
I know only that in the moment I have access to one – to the soft curves and eager flesh of a human female – I will revert back to my basest instincts; and claim a woman like all of my ancestors have done before me.
Now we’re in open space – Territus far behind us. We’re flying towards the massive transport ship that will take us deeper into the nothingness of space.
While our own Reaver can use its Orb-Drive to make shorter sector jumps, the huge mothership we approach is powered by a huge Orb-Sphere; the size of an ‘elephant’ from the human worlds. That gives the vessel the power to leap vast, almost inconceivable distances across space; and the mothership will soon bring us out into the lawless, brutal outskirts of the Empire; so far away from the peace and harmony of systems like Territus.
Peace and harmony that the humans only enjoy the benefits of thanks to our Empire. How ungrateful these humans are!
Out on the outskirts, at least, humans still admit their need for our protection. It rankles that in the sectors we’ve long-since made safe, the humans are so eagerly throwing off our rule – enacting their ‘rights’ under the new Independence Laws that Queen Jasmine has enacted.
I furrow my brows as a warning light suddenly goes off.
“Scorp,” snarls Raekon. His aura flares through the Bond. The signal shows three Scorp Organic ships on the outskirts of this sector, near the small planet of Tear.
Tear is another human world in this system, and my species left that world first, three days ago. That means they are now defenseless, except for whatever meager military and law enforcement the humans have for themselves.
The planet of Tear got its name from the water that covers 80% of its surface. As I was just chastising the humans of Territus for, this sector cast off Aurelian rule and protection because they were lulled into a false sense of security; believing the peace and protection they’d so long enjoyed came independent of Aurelian protection.
As a result, they’d declared independence long before even bothered to build up their own planetary defenses – probably thinking that they’d have leeway to do so before there was any chance of Scorp returning to the sector to threaten them.
But we Aurelians are not so naive. In fact, we’ve come to understand that it’s almost as if the half-insectoid, half-mammalian Scorp species – an abomination of nine-
feet-tall, carapace-covered, venom-dripping death machines – can sense weakness.
Even worse, the sensors of our Reaver ship are finely-tuned. It’s doubtful the humans have such technology or programs. Not only are they now vulnerable to the newly-encroaching Scorp, but they’ll be taken totally by surprise. It will be a slaughter down on the surface of Tear.
“They got rid of our protection,” says Leon flatly. “They made their choice.”
“Fucking stupid humans. All those women and children will be ripped to shreds without us,” growls Raekon, his aura darkening through our Bond, filled with anger.
My fingers twitch. I open com-links to the mothership.
“Reaver 7695B reporting sighting of three Scorp Org-Ships approaching Tear. Requesting permission to intervene.” I report quickly, making the decision for my triad before I can change my mind; or have my blood-brothers change it for me.
There’s a silence for a second. “Permission denied.”
Anger flares up in me. Without Aurelian defenses, those Scorp ships will plummet to the surface of Tear and all hell will follow with them.
I check the sensors again. I confirm three of the Scorp Organic ‘Egg-Sac’ ships approaching the surface of Tear. Each one of those living vessels will be filled with a hundred of the brutal Scorp warriors, and together those Egg-Sacs will bring three of their horrifying Queens to the surface of that undefended world.
The Scorp warriors will rip through the soft-fleshed humans, and drag any and all still living back to their Queens to face a fate literally worse than death.
Even worse, because the planet of Tear is comprised of 90% water, most of their population is centered in one, concentrated city. The Scorp will land amidst those helpless citizens, and it will be a bloodbath.
I press down on the coms again.
“There are three of the ships, control – and Tear has few defenses. It’s going to be a slaughter down there. Let us jump in – we can make it in time and destroy those Egg-Sacs before they even touch down.”
I pause, hovering in space as the rest of the Reavers fly past us into the docking bay of the huge mothership. We are the last – alone and in space, holding up the jump for the entire mothership; and the contingent of disgruntled Aurelians aboard it.
The com lights up.
“We are instructed to leave independent sectors to their own devices. Intervening would show humanity that they can receive protection without taxation. Reaver 7695B, join the mothership now,” responds the voice sternly.
My biceps clench, just as before battle. Every muscle in my body tightens up. I cut the coms and turn to face my triad.
“One of those humans on Tear… Perhaps she might be our mate,” I say. It’s a strange, illogical thought, so alien to my mind. And yet, some base instinct deep in the recesses in my mind is telling me to land on Tear. It is as though my ancestors are guiding me.
It’s a long shot. Most Aurelians live and die never finding their near-mythical ‘fated mate’ – the one Bonded woman among millions who could bear their children of our triad.
Although, now there are rumors that Scorp Venom can provide such fertility...
…but rumors, surely. Rumors and legend. Everyone knows even a drop of Scorp Venom is deadly…
Raekon bares his teeth. “Fucking stupid, helpless humans! All those women are going to die!”
It’s hard to imagine all those poor, helpless humans being torn apart by rampaging Scorp, or dragged off to face an even more grisly fate at the whims of a Scorp Queen.
Leon takes a deep breath in. My aura mirrors Raekon’s - passionate, angry, and ready to kill. Leon is the only one still-rational among us.
“If we go to save that planet, we’ll be on the Kill List. You can’t desert during your hundred years of service, even for a cause like this. Not without… consequences.”
The Kill List. Execute on sight. Our biometrics will be tainted forever. There’s no going back if we make this choice.
The weight of the decision is on my shoulders. I’m the one who has to make it.
The planet of Tear is much too far away to see with the naked eye. My ship will be able to make the jump easily - but there’s a risk the mothership might send a squad of Reavers to exact justice on us if we do...
Would they waste the troops? If they can’t spare a single Reaver to protect Tear, would they send three to bring us to justice?
My future hangs in the balance, as does the future of Tear.
If I decide to jump to the sector, we’ll be branded as deserters, hounded for the rest of our lives. If I don’t…
Tens of thousands will die.
2
Lezena
I force myself not to tremble. I will be meeting with my suitor, and if the stories are to be believed, the worst thing in the world would be for him to like me.
Yet, I swallow hard as I imagine the wrath of my father if Kendrick Dulloth rejects me, instead. There are two dark futures ahead of me – neither one with any light at the end of them.
The bright blue sky looks empty without the familiar sight of a Reaver patrolling overhead.
“We’ll be fine, won’t we? Without the Aurelians?” Jenna sounds nervous, as she follows my eyes to the sky above.
Jenna came into my service four years ago, and I’ve now come to view her more as my best friend than my maidservant. She adjusts a tea-cup that had been perfectly placed in the traditional pattern, then rethinks her decision and moves it back. Finally, she abandons the whole project, and returns to standing behind me.
Jenna does everything perfectly. Sometimes I wonder if her nervousness is real, or if she’s just letting me comfort her to make me feel better about my own future.
Will we be fine? I know that my father will be richer when he no longer has to give ten percent of his gross to the Aurelians – as will all the other noble houses of Tear.
“That depends on the vote in senate,” I respond, my voice containing a little too much edge to it. I’ve always had trouble controlling my emotions – a bad trait to have in the heiress-apparent of a family of some small nobility. My father believes the other noble houses are his friends, but I know that they secretly look down on him. Father only came into the ranks of Tear’s nobility recently, when his Liquid Mine struck pay dirt. Sadly, the money has gone to his head – and blinded him to the truth about the more venerable noble houses.
Behind me, Jenna stands perfectly still, so elegant and graceful. Truly, she should be the noble-woman, not I. She looks the part. I’d describe her as willowy and lithe - but no one would use the same words for me. Jenna often comments on how envious she is of my full breasts and round bottom, but I feel the same envy for her athletic, royal physique.
“Curves are for commoners,” my father would say whenever he judged my body. I could see the frustration in his eyes. Our family went from Common to Low-Noble in the blink of an eye, but my father craves more. He desires higher positions - which is why he’s set up this courtship today. Lord Kendrick Dulloth is already seven minutes late, though; and I wonder if my potential suitor is being so discourteous because he, too, prefers a woman built more like Jenna than myself.
The vote I referred to will decide whether a tax is to be levied to pay for a planetary army, now that we no longer have the protection of the Aurelian Empire. The alternative is for protection to be provided by the individual houses of nobility – each responsible for their own property.
I have a strong suspicion that the consortium of noble houses will choose the second option – or find a way to pass the costs of a planetary army to the middle-class instead of them, packaged in such a way as to make it appear as if the Consortium is bearing the brunt of the expense.
It’s strange to know that there will no longer be Aurelians striding down the streets of Tear, walking tall with their arrogant gaze judging all who stand before them.
The seven-feet-tall aliens wear Roman-style togas over their pure white, ivory bodies, and to
see them on the streets of Tear is almost like watching statues come to life – as though an artist was told to carve the ideal male physique out of marble and then some sinister magic gave those creations the power of motion, speech and a disdainful, imperious gaze.
Part of me always craved the idea of those haughty bastards. Though I hate their arrogance, it’s a strange thought to not be able to delight my eyes with their bodies, at least…
Stop it! These thoughts are wrong! Wrong, wrong!
I know that Aurelians look down on humans. I know that it’s disgusting to be attracted to the species when they treat us like little more than unruly children, who need to be cared for and looked after. I try and force my thoughts back to politics – if only to stop myself from having any more… intrusive thoughts about those towering aliens and their incredible physiques.
I wonder how much of the decision to declare independence was due to the tax the Aurelians levied on our noble houses, and how much was because those same noble families of Territus had been saving to buy out the vast swathes of real estate that the Aurelians would leave abandoned when they left. They’d leave behind their manors and villas, and take with them their vast harems of women.
What would it be like, to be in one of those harems? To be just another wench, dedicated to serving her Aurelian master? Gods… it sounds humiliating…
…but I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t want to try swapping lives with one of those women for just a day, at least…
I force the thought out of my mind. As good-looking – no, gorgeous – as they are, Aurelians are all disgusting, chauvinistic pigs beneath that beautiful, marble exterior. They’re degenerate sophisticates, who view humans as helpless little toys – especially the women. It’s a weakness that I have such filthy thoughts about members of their race. I feel dirty that I have any sort of attraction for them – like I’d ever stoop to being such a desperate woman that I’d enter one of their harems; exchanging my dignity for a life of luxury.
