The Emperor had bred his species to hunt. With the sharp eyes of an eagle, he spied Ninsianna slipping into the crowd, unaware he'd taken to the air in her haste to escape his playful wrath. He was the hunter and she the prey. He tucked his wings into his sides and dove like a hawk. The wind whistled past his ears, singing exhalations at his return to her bosom.
Ninsianna paused when she didn't see him pursue her and never thought to look up. Swooping down from the sky like an eagle, he grabbed her, just barely touching the ground as he adjusted for her weight, and strained to lift the both of them into the air. Ninsianna shrieked, pressing the length of her body against his in terror.
“I owe you this,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around her so she wouldn't fall. His enormous dark wings flapped, straining to free her from the grasp of gravity, her jealous lover. He reached into the air and pulled, tilting his wings until the wind aided their escape. Pain shot down the damaged wing, protesting his abuse, but it held. Pain didn't matter. Only Ninsianna … and flight … mattered to him now. He pushed aside the pain and shot back into the sky.
Ninsianna screamed. She slid her arms around his neck, her legs flailing like a prey animal trying to escape the eagle's grasp. He caught the lazy updraft over the Hiddekel River and leveled off.
This was what he'd been bred to do…
Ninsianna’s shriek echoed in his ears, but combined with her terror he heard exhilaration as she relished the feeling of becoming one with the wind. Their eyes met, stealing the breath from his lungs as he forgot to breathe. Looking deep into her golden eyes, he finally succumbed to the urge to kiss her, greedily tasting the luscious red lips that had tempted him from the moment he'd woken up in his crashed ship with no memory of his past. With a moan, she wrapped her legs around his for stability. Warmth spread through his body as he sought out her tongue. She hesitantly, and then with increasing boldness, tasted the inside of his mouth, murmuring his name as she forgot her terror.
“Mikhail,” her lips pressed against his ear so the wind wouldn't steal her words. “You can fly…”
“With you … I can do anything."
He adjusted his wings so they could circle in the lazy updraft from the river valley below like the mated pair of golden eagles who forever circled the river in search of fish. Mud. Ninsianna’s face was now as streaked with mud as his was. It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. With a mischievous grin, he added:
“And now you are covered in mud too, my love.”
Chapter 53
Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.06 AE
Earth: Sata’an Forward Operating Base
Lieutenant Kasib
Lt. Kasib
Lieutenant Kasib rubbed the satisfied warmth in his belly, the taste of porridge made from local grains and a dried fruit called 'dates' still upon his sensitive forked tongue as he made his way back from the mess hall. Amorite traders, a group who had allied themselves with the Sata'anic nation builders, led a sizeable herd of human females across the central plaza, future brides for whichever worthy male the powers-that-be decided to gift them to. Unlike Sata'anic females, who viewed their induction into the Female Finishing School with eager anticipation, these females trudged despondently and sobbed. As he watched, an Amorite shoved one onto the ground and kicked her.
“Hey!” Kasib shouted in broken Kemet as he broke into a trot. “Don't hurt her!”
Kemet was the language of trade on this planet. As soon as they'd started setting up a Forward Operating Base, General Hudhafah had ordered them to learn it. Annexing a planet meant the locals were expected to cast off their primitive tongues and speak the civilized language of the Empire, but there was always a period of transition.
“Clumsy piece of goat shit!” the Amorite snarled, nervous he'd drawn unwanted attention. “She's been deliberately pretending to trip and fall the entire way here! Trying to engineer her escape, no doubt!”
“I'm sorry,” the female sobbed. She lurched to her feet and stumbled back into line, bruises visible on her cheek from previous beatings. The other women closed rank, protecting her even though Kasib’s presence terrified them. General Hudhafah had ordered them to stay back and not overwhelm the females until they became acclimated to seeing other species, but the Amorite's treatment was unacceptable.
“I'll take over." Kasib tasted the air with his forked tongue and immediately regretted it. The stench of unwashed bodies made him want to retch. He gave the Amorite a look of disgust. “Go report to Lieutenant Abdul-Ghani to get paid.”
The Amorite stalked off to the payment office without as much as a ‘thank you.' The women huddled together in fear, but they appeared to understand that Kasib objected to the slavers rough treatment of them.
“You won't be harmed." Kasib had to focus to not slip an inadvertent ‘hiss’ into his enunciation. “Over there. That tent with the yellow flag. That will be your home until we prepare you to meet your new husbands.”
The females went meekly, without protest. Many had torn clothing or visible cuts and bruises. As they moved towards the tent, the female who had inspired the entire incident tripped and fell to the ground a second time.
“I'm sorry!” she cried. The other women glanced fearfully at Kasib and the other Sata’an guards.
“I'll do it!" Kasib reached down to help her up. Her skin felt warm, like his, not cold blooded like his Marid comrades-in-arms. It felt … soft.
Although she was not Sata’an, this was the closest he'd ever been to an unrelated female who was not a sister, half-sister, or one of his sister's sister-wives. Shay’tan kept strict control over females and how much access unrelated males got to them. It was disrespectful to look at an unrelated female, but there were no fathers, brothers, or husbands to bring the women to the crude female finishing school Hudhafah had set up to train them. A father, brother, or half-brother would have cracked the Amorite's skulls.
“Thank you,” she said. “I'm so clumsy. It won't happen again.”
As she spoke, even though he averted his eyes downward as was proper to address an unrelated female, Kasib noticed she didn't make eye contact. That was … unusual. Humans didn't have the same prohibition against inter-gender eye contact that civilized races did … yet.
“That’s okay." Kasib watched her without being obvious, a skill all Sata’an males learned to overcome the prohibition against looking at a female's face when looking was the only way to tell if you'd offended her. She focused not towards his eyes, but the sound of his voice. While the other females stared, owl-eyed at his Sata’anic features, flinching every time he twitched his tail, this one didn't appear to care.
“We'll help her." Two females came forward and guided her back into their huddle. The young woman stumbled again. It clicked.
“You're blind!” He couldn't believe it! A blind female without war injuries? Such a thing was unheard of in the Sata'an Empire! Most blindness was cured via surgery or prosthesis. Shay’tan was cheap, but the old dragon realized skimping on health care or education was more expensive in the long run.
One of the females stepped in front of him to shield her from his view and said in broken Kemet, “leave her alone!"
Despite the fear in the bold one’s mahogany eyes, she was as regal as a queen. Like a first-wife chosen to be the anchor of a high-ranking male who had grown accustomed to ruling her children, sister-wives, and their children with a firm hand. In fact, all three females bore a strong resemblance to one another, although to Kasib, all humans looked alike. Sisters? Or cousins? They were not supposed to take more than two sample females from each area until full annexation had been achieved. He would need to report this to General Hudhafah.
“I'll not hurt her,” Kasib said. “The rest of you … into the tent with the yellow flag. You … come with me. I want our physician to look at you. Your sisters may come as an escort.”
Five guards herded the larger group into the yellow-flagged tent. Kasib ordered the two females he'd asked to stay to le
ad the blind one over to the medical tent. Calling for Doctor Peyman, the base physician, he apprised him of the situation.
“This one is blind,” Kasib hissed in his own language. “Hudhafah is adamant that the Amorites only gather healthy, unattached young females of marriageable age, and not all from the same village or family. These three females are related.”
“Up here, young lady,” Doctor Peyman said in Kemet, patting the top of the examination table. “What is your name?”
“Taram,” the young woman said. “Please don't hurt my family! It's not their fault.”
“Your sisters may stay to protect your modesty,” Doctor Peyman said. “But Lieutenant Kasib will need to step outside.”
Kasib did as ordered. After almost an hour, Doctor Peyman came out.
“They are Khurrites,” Doctor Peyman said. “One is a sister, the other is her cousin. Acceptable according to the parameters Ba'al Zebub has set out. The blind one, however, is not acceptable. I have contacted the payment office and ordered them not to render payment for this one. The Amorites know better. They told her that if we found out she was blind before she got shipped off, they would kill her.”
“How would we not notice she is blind?” Kasib asked.
“She's not completely blind,” Peyman said. “She can see shadows and colors. She claims she can perform the tasks expected of a wife.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do for her?” Kasib asked. “If she can see shadows, her illness should be curable.”
“If we were in the Hades cluster,” Peyman said, “or if I had more time to study their physiology so I could engineer a cure, maybe. But under these conditions? Until we bring a civilizing hand to this planet, she will have to live with her disability.”
“I overheard the General say that the Alliance hybrids are desperate for any female they can reproduce with,” Kasib said. “Rumor has it that's where the first few groups are headed. I believe the hybrids would accept her, flawed or not.”
“Our orders are clear,” Peyman said, his expression serious. “She needs to be returned to her family.”
“How will we do that if the Amorites threatened to kill her?” Kasib asked. “Look at the bruises!”
Doctor Peyman tasted the air, scratching his head behind his ear-hole. “I didn't have a good feeling about the last two I rejected. I suspect the Amorites abandoned them in the wilderness to die. I'll list her as having expired in transit and leave it up to you to come up with a solution.”
“What am I going to do with an unattached female?” Kasib asked. “It's disrespectful for her to even be in my presence! No self-respecting male will accept a female with loose morals!”
“Your options are limited,” Peyman said. “Either hand her back to the Amorites and hope they do the honorable thing, or deal with it on your own. Which will it be? Rejected for medical reasons? Or officially dead so there is no trace of her in the system?”
“Officially dead…” Kasib said. “I'll think of something. I didn't get to be Hudhafah’s personal assistant by not being able to figure out how to get things where they need to go.”
Peyman nodded. He went back into the medical tent to break the news to his patient. Kasib scratched his ear holes in wonder. How in Hades had he just gotten himself saddled with transporting a blind human female back hundreds of miles to an unknown home?
Chapter 54
Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.06 AE
Zulu Sector: Command Carrier ‘Light Emerging’
Colonel Raphael Israfa
Raphael
Raphael's golden feathers rustled as he scrutinized the intelligence report just in from one of the three battle cruisers under his command. His lips moved as he read, a trick he'd learned to force himself to hear what he was reading as his ear often picked up the absurdity of something which his eyes would miss, as though he were listening to himself gossip about the latest newscast.
“How recent are these sightings, Ensign Zzz'ler’?” Raphael asked.
“The oldest is two days old." The ensign's voice translator helped her vocalize those portions of the Angelic language which were beyond her species physical capability to articulate.
"And you're certain every one of these ships was a non-military trading vessel?" Raphael asked.
"They even checked the cargo, Sir," Zzz'ler said. "Major Hck'lr made them open up the boxes and rifled through a few of the hidden compartments they thought we didn't know about. The goods were all Sata'anic in origin, but civilian."
That, in and of itself, was not unusual. Ever since the advent of free trade agreements, most goods were manufactured in the Sata'an Empire.
"Any weapons?"
"No, Sir," Zzz'ler said. "Lots of glowsticks, sleeping bags, and cots."
"The kind of goods which could be used to set up a large Sata'anic base," Raphael scrolled through the lists marked 'camping gear.'
"They were all boxed and priced for commercial sale," Zzz'ler said. "Major Hck'lr felt he had no choice but to let them go."
Raphael grunted and nodded, though he wasn't happy about his agreement. Zulu Sector was neutral territory, belonging to neither empire and largely unexplored. Either superpower's ships were free to travel the area at will.
"Why so many?" Raphael asked. "There's a lot of real estate between the outer edge of the Sata'an Empire and Zulu Sector. Unless we've caught every single ship they've smuggled into here, they must be building one Hades of a base."
He glanced up at Ensign Zzz'ler. “Sss’kkk skr,rr igginn’zzi,” Raphael said in Mantoid, a simple “thank you, dismissed."
Zzz'ler gave him a crisp salute and exited the room.
He scrolled through the smart pad, pinching the bridge of his nose as he read through report after report that didn't make any sense. Holy grail … holy grail … what in Hades was the holy grail? Too many of the ships were short-haul vessels, meant to be operated from a larger base of operations. There were no homeworlds out here to smuggle to!
He flipped through more reports, noting on an electronic tracking system each sighting and how long it had taken the ship to move from point to point, searching for places ships had lingered or dropped off the map. Pattern. He was searching for a pattern.
'Shay'tan's found the godsdamned Holy Grail…' Mikhail had radioed. Whatever Shay'tan was hiding out here must be huge.
He glanced up at the pictures of his son and sighed. Jophiel had included a picture of herself holding their baby. She was out of uniform, her long golden hair tumbling over her clothing to accentuate the rise of her breasts instead of her habitual bun. It looked as though she looked out of the picture straight at him, a small, wistful smile playing upon those luscious pink lips he still dreamed of kissing. It was very … personal.
Unfortunately, since that day, she hadn't called. All messages were now relayed via official military channels. He rubbed the tight spot in his chest where it still ached every time he thought about her … and the son he'd yet to meet. Mikhail had been right.
“Mikhail … where are you?”
He looked over at the wall full of pictures from his Academy days, the ache of losing his best friend joining the pain of losing the woman he loved. In every picture Raphael wore a huge grin while Mikhail stood stiffly at his side. Raphael had made it his personal mission to get his too-serious friend to crack a smile, but the best he could usually accomplish was to pry a smirk out of his reticent friend before Mikhail would school his expression back into the unreadable one that seven years under the Cherubim had instilled.
One picture, however, was from the day they'd beaten the socks off of a rival team in the iron man 3-day competition. Arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders in an easy camaraderie, Raphael wore a goofy expression while the too-serious Mikhail beamed a smile that would have lit up six solar systems. Raphael looked inebriated, but he still displayed that photo. It was the only time anyone had ever captured his best friend smile.
The sooner he could figure out
what in Hades was going on out here and find his friend, the sooner he could go meet his son. Maybe then, Jophiel would speak to him …
Chapter 55
And when the woman saw
That the tree [was] good for food,
And that it [was] pleasant to the eyes,
And a tree to be desired to make [one] wise,
She took of the fruit thereof, and did eat,
And gave also unto her husband with her;
And he did eat.
Genesis 3:6
June – 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Colonel Mikhail Mannuki’ili
Mikhail
“Yalda brought over your share of the loot,” Needa said as he came in for breakfast. Although Needa could cook, she didn't enjoy it. Meals in Ninsianna’s parents household tended to be simple, functional, and tasteless. Better than remolecularized food cubes, but not by much.
“I have never had these … what do you call them?” Mikhail asked.
“Olives,” Needa said. “Olll ivvvvsss.”
“Olives,” he committed the strange new word to memory. He reached into the bowl and pulled one of the small, black fruits out of what appeared to be oil.
“They are better with flat bread." Needa pointed to a basket of soft, still-warm bread that could have only come from Yalda. Needa’s bread always came out crispy and as hard as a rock.
Popping the decadent little fruit into his mouth, Mikhail moaned in pleasure as salty juices burst onto his tongue. A dribble of oil ran down his chin as he fished out the pit. Reaching for the flat bread, he sniffed the heavenly scent of the still-warm bread before tearing off a piece to dab the olive oil and pop it into his mouth. Turning to Needa, he gave her his most satisfied grin.
Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 29
