"Husband," Sarvenaz's forehead furrowed in concentration as she tried to pull the few words they both shared out of her memory. "You … no … work … late?" Husband. His heart thrilled at the forbidden endearment. It had been the second word he'd taught her, right after he'd taught her to say his name.
"Ahh, chol beag," he pulled her in closer and nuzzled her cheek. "You know I must go. This Alliance is not going to protect itself. But I'll be back as soon as I can. You know I will."
It had become a bit of a game. He had to leave, but Sarvenaz wished for him to stay. She slid her arms around his chest and snuggled closer, one leg thrown possessively over his. Abaddon liked this game even though, for the first time in his 630 yearlong military career, it made him late for work. At his rank, who would chastise him? Sarvenaz's eyes got that look they always got before she 'convinced' him to linger.
"I don't know what I did to deserve you." Abaddon fished a strand of stray hair that had migrated across her cheek out of her mouth and tucked it behind her ear. "You act as though everything I do is wonderful."
"Husband …" Sarvenaz looked into her own mind, trying to pull up an adequate word to describe what she wished to say. Not finding any, she pieced together smaller words to do the trick. "Husband …" She slid her fingers through the grey feathers of his wings.
"Angelic," he said. "Husband is an Angelic."
"No," she said. "Husband is …" She chewed her lip. Abaddon didn't interrupt her. If he was patient and waited, she usually found a way to communicate what she wished to say. "Husband is … énas theós." She touched his wings again.
Abaddon curled the wing around her, pulling her closer. "It's called a wing, mo ghrá. The Eternal Emperor gave them to our species so we could protect him. A long, long time ago."
"No ... just ... wing." The sparkle in her eye indicated she'd come up with a word to describe what she wished to say. "Sarvenaz ... people ..." She made a motion with her hand as though it were a puppet talking.
"Say? Speak? Tell?" Abaddon went through possible words with her.
"Sarvanez people say speak tell," she said. "Your people. Sarvanez people say speak tell ... your people."
She repeated the same thing several more times until it dawned upon him what she was trying to say.
"Your people have stories about my people?"
"Yes," Sarvanez said with a triumphant smile. "Sarvenez people say speak tell ... stories ... about ... husband's people. Angelics."
"And what do these stories tell?"
"Husbands … people …" Sarvenaz made a gesture with her hands as though they were the rays of the sun. She followed up the sign language with a hand to her forehead, her lips and her heart. The Sata'anic Empire had such a gesture whenever they praised their emperor and god, Shay'tan. It reinforced what Lucifer had said about their homeworld being lodged someplace in the Sata'anic Empire.
"I can't believe Shay'tan let you go." Abaddon pulled her tighter into his arms. "He never lets any female go. He keeps the lizard females confined to the Hades cluster."
Sarvenaz's dark eyes sparkled with victory. She could sense she'd already won their daily tussle over how late she could make him linger, even before she'd pulled out the heavy artillery. As if it took much persuasion!
Abaddon gave a content sigh, acknowledging his complete and utter defeat. His subordinates were talented enough to keep things running without him for just a little while longer. He'd already served far beyond his mandatory 500 years in the Alliance military. As soon as Lucifer got his override through Parliament, he intended to tender his resignation and retire. He didn't know how many years he had left in this realm before She-who-is called him into the next one to defend her, but he intended to spend what little time he had left siring and raising as many offspring as his wife would give him.
"Husband … say speak tell … story?" Her eyes were filled with curiosity. Although her speech was still limited, she enjoyed hearing him tell his tales. He suspected she analyzed the pattern of his language, increasing her vocabulary each time he told a tale.
Shay'tan had let her go. Did she have any idea how lucky she was, to escape the yoke the old dragon imposed upon all females in Sata'anic culture? Yes. He would tell her that story today.
"Have you ever seen one of the Sata'anic females on your homeworld?"
Sarvenaz nodded. Male and female were two of the earliest words she'd mastered, and she'd readily recognized the Sata'anic lizards when he'd shown her a picture of one of them. She recognized those two words, not the rest of his question.
"No, I suspect you haven't. Shay'tan keeps them too tightly locked up within the Hades cluster so the males don't get any ideas about casting off his rule. Even more strictly than he does the females of other species he subjugates."
Sarvenaz ran her hand down his chest to caress his abdomen. It was part of the game they played each morning after the morning sickness passed. She would entice him to linger, and he would allow himself to be enticed. Her curiosity, however, was genuine. Her eyes sparkled as she watched his mouth form the words, her lips moving silently to repeat each one she recognized. It was how he gauged how much she really understood. For all the bribes he'd turned down cold over the years, money, power, even governorship over his own world one time in the uncharted territories, the old dragon couldn't have sent him a more tempting bribe than the one hanging off of his every word.
"I'm one of the few Alliance citizens who has ever seen a Sata’anic female," Abaddon said. "One day during a border skirmish I captured a Sata’anic destroyer. When I went inside, do you know what I found?"
He'd always scoffed at how animated the Prime Minister was during one of his speeches, but he found himself borrowing a bit of that body language to tell his tale, gestures succeeding in telling the story where words failed. Sarvenaz smiled at him, her lips silently repeating the words 'Alliance' and 'found.' Newer words in her vocabulary. She understood enough for him to continue the tale.
"I found a Sata’an general in the launch bay," Abaddon said. "He was not attempting to escape himself, but squeezing his three wives and a clutch of unhatched eggs into an escape pod meant for two so they would survive. Since Shay’tan keeps all females confined in harems on their homeworlds, I knew I had captured a very high ranking general, indeed!"
"Sata'an … general?" Sarvenaz chewed her lip and pointed to the uniform he neatly placed over the back of a chair each night so it wouldn't wrinkle. Although the names of Alliance military ranks puzzled her, she'd readily grasped the concept that there was a chain of command here on this ship and that he was the top dog.
"Yes," Abaddon said. "A general. Like me. After his pulse rifle was exhausted and he had no more weapons to fire at me, he drew his sword and stood between me and his family. He begged me to kill him, but allow his wives and offspring to escape. We conversed a few minutes about a man's wish to protect his family, and how much he regretted that his reluctance to be parted from them had put their lives in danger."
He traced the line of Sarvenaz's jaw, the way her lips parted and eyebrows rose in curiosity as he told his tale. Until he'd met the Sata'an general, he'd always thought of the Sata'anic lizards as monsters. Enemies he'd casually slaughtered, as all Alliance soldiers were taught to slaughter the enemies of the Eternal Emperor. After that day … well let's just say that since then he'd been comparing Sata'anic morals to hybrid ones and finding his own people coming up short.
"I took pity upon him," Abaddon said. "The general ordered his wives to finish squeezing into the life pod. They were crying as he shut them into the pod and programmed in the coordinates to where they could find safety, but they obeyed. As soon as the escape pod cleared the ship, he kneeled, dropped his sword, and bowed his head to give me access to his neck so I could decapitate him in a single stroke."
"Husband … kill … general?" Sarvenaz frowned.
Aha! She did understand that much of the story! He was unsure how much she knew about the military structure
of the Sata'anic Empire because, although she was familiar with the lizard people, it seemed Lucifer's assertions that Shay'tan had simply ignored their world because it had no resources were accurate.
"Yes," Abaddon said. "I smote him. Not because I hated him, but because I respected him too much to dishonor him by turning him over for interrogation. If I had, Shay'tan would have seized his assets and cast his family out into the street in punishment."
Sarvenaz nodded, the frown line disappearing from her brow. Although he doubted she understood exactly why he'd chosen to let the general's family go before killing him, she seemed to understand from the tone of his voice that he bore that dead general enormous respect. Abaddon pointed to the sword he'd leaning casually against the same chair where he kept his uniform.
"To this day, I honor that Sata’an general's memory by carrying his sword."
Sarvenaz smiled and said something in her own language that he couldn't understand. She snuggled in closer, rubbing her hand down the hard, flat washboard of his abdomen and looked at him with a hungry expression. She resumed her game of tempting him.
"I have to go to work now, mo ghrá," Abaddon said.
Sarvenaz pulled out the heavy artillary, demanding his surrender by caressing his manhood to stand at attention. He was putty in her hands, and she knew it! But he was not without his own weapons in this delightful war they waged each morning against the outside world. He nibbled down her neck until she shrieked with laughter. How he loved to hear her laugh! In a species prone towards seriousness, human laughter was a drug he could never get enough of. It filled his heart with joy as he prepared to mate with her again … for pleasure … as no Angelic female would ever allow.
He nuzzled her neck and counted again, just to be sure. Three grey hairs. Whatever Lucifer had cooking up his sleeve worried him, but it paled in contrast to the gift he'd just been given. At last, he'd a mate. She didn't want to leave him … and he was going to be a father. In love for the first time in his life, the old General swore he would never, ever let her go…
No matter what it cost him.
Chapter 95
August - 3,390 BC
Earth: Crash Site
Ninsianna
Yawning and stretching in her downy bed, Ninsianna opened her eyes to find her new husband intently staring at her, a slight smile upticking the corner of his mouth.
“I think my wing fell asleep.”
“Huh?" She caressed the enormous, brownish-black wing that covered them both, blankets a hindrance to a species that came equipped wearing their very own down comforter. She ran her fingers beneath the quills to tickle his warm, avian skin.
“Not that one." His smirk blossomed into a full-blown smile that threatened to melt her heart. “The other wing.”
Feeling beneath herself, she realized at some point during the night she'd rolled onto his other wing, completely enclosing herself in the soft, downy feathers that covered the underside of his wings. The downy under-feathers of all avian species had evolved to feel the subtle caress of the wind and shelter their loved ones from the cold. It felt so safe, to be nestled in the enormous wings of a species created to protect the weak. By the way he twitched as she caressed him, she could tell the lack of circulation had caused him to be on pins-and-needles for quite some time.
“Why didn't you say something,” she asked.
“I didn't wish to wake you." He ran his thumb down her jaw and across her lips, his expression tender. “I still fear that one day I shall wake up and discover that all this time, I have only been dreaming of my one great love."
"We are now married," Ninsianna smiled. "Until death do us part. She-who-is herself has given us her blessing." She caressed the frown of worry that marred his perfect brow.
Running her hand down his rock solid abdomen, she found his manhood standing at attention, rising up to meet her touch as she ran her fingers along the shaft. Naked pleasure crossed his usually serious face. Here in bed together, locked away from the outside world, he dropped the emotional walls he used to keep his feelings hidden from the world and gave her unguarded access. He gave a little cry of discomfort, half laughter, half sigh, as her wiggling caused pins and needles to shoot up his numb wing.
“We shall have to do something to wake up your wing." She stroked his manhood. “Can you think of any way to get the blood flowing again?”
“If my blood flows any faster,” he said with a growl. “My head will explode." He shifted his weight on top of her, nuzzling down her neck as he pulled the errant wing from underneath them both.
“It's not your head I'm interested in,” she teased, stroking him into a quivering mass of anticipation as she guided him between her legs and tilted up her pelvis to greet him.
This time there was no discomfort, only pleasure...
Chapter 96
Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.08
Orbit – Haven-1
Colonel Raphael Israfa
Raphael
Raphael greeted the biomechanical 'needle' using the voice translation device developed to communicate with the strange life form. Although life in the Milky Way tended to clump into one of six basic life forms, occasionally something drifted in from someplace else that didn't fit life as they knew it. Needles fit that category. The living remnants of some great civilization that had risen and fallen in a distant galaxy, needles were a curious synergy of biology and machine.
They were sentient, gentle creatures whose level of intelligence was about that of a 5-year-old humanoid. Obedient and eager to please, they had to be cared for like children. Raphael would like to believe they cared for the trusting biomechanoids simply because it was the right thing to do, but years of watching Parliament fracture into squabbling political and business interests had left him skeptical. The reason needles were cared for was because they were trans-dimensional creatures that could leap instantly from one end of the galaxy to the other. The next-fastest method of transportation, FTL (faster than light) drives, took weeks, even months to make that same journey.
“Hey, buddy! It's time to go play with your friend on Jophiel’s ship. Would you like that?" The little ship excitedly bumped Raphael's hand with its nose.
“Here's your oxygen mask, Sir." Ensign Zzz'ler handed him the life support gear he would need to make the jump. Needles only provided transportation and warmth, not life support, so oxygen was a necessity.
“Time to strip."
Raphael couldn't help but flash Zzz'ler his dimple as he removed the outer layers of his uniform and shoes before lowering himself into the slender marsupium[3]. He was every bit as excited to be making this journey as his needle was.
Zzz'ler helped him jam his wings into the carrying compartment, crushing a few golden feathers in the process. The confines of the needle were so tight that he didn’t even have room for a full accompaniment of clothing! Had he been more muscular, like General Abaddon, or taller, like Mikhail, he probably wouldn't fit at all!
He patted the inside of the marsupium, signaling the needle to shut the cargo doors, and suppressed the urge to fight his way out as the ship molded itself around his body. There was a good reason the slender biomechanoids were called ‘needles.' They were a claustrophobic ride. Luckily, the creatures could jump as soon as they exited the cargo bay, landing close enough to the receiving ship that time spent in the coffin-like passenger compartment was mercifully brief.
“Let’s go,” he said into the voice communicator built into the oxygen mask as he patted the tender insides of the needle, giving the non-auditory signal it had been trained to recognize.
The long, slender creature shifted around him as it was guided out one of the torpedo ports. Needles were like carrier pigeons. They preferred to jump back and forth between familiar locations. Something truly terrifying must have happened to cause an entire herd of them to suddenly jump galaxies twenty-five years ago. He felt the discombobulating juxtaposition of the needle slipping into the subspace between dimensions a
nd out the other side near Jophiel’s ship.
“Ohthankthegodsthatsover,” he gasped for breath the moment the needle released him. Climbing out onto the flight deck inside Jophiel’s command carrier, he ruffled his crushed feathers.
“Here’s a change of clothes, Sir,” the flight crewman who had been assigned to assist him and care for his needle said.
“Thank you, Lieutenant … Hadraniel, correct?"
He pulled on a uniform jacket and shoes before turning back to his trusty little needle. He spoke into the voice translator so it would understand him.
“Thank you, my friend." He tickled one side of its javelin-like nose. If it was a nose. Nobody knew for sure.
The playful ship wriggled and rolled over so he could scratch its tender underbelly. Few people rode a needle by choice, but he and this little ship had been logging in quite a few hours lately. Thanks to the needle, he'd been able to pull off a feat of spatial engineering no mortal could have otherwise accomplished: be at opposite ends of the galaxy in the same day. Uncomfortable or not, his needle enabled him to balance his mission to find this mysterious solution Shay'tan had found with his yearning to be with his family.
“Lieutenant Hadraniel will release you in a few minutes so you can go play with your friend,” Raphael told it. “Okay?”
The ATO would release it to fly close to this systems sun and feed upon the cosmic radiation it used as food. It would come back in eight hours or so when it finished eating and playing so he could make the jump back out to Zulu Sector. Only thirty-five needles existed in the entire galaxy, all stationed on different command carriers in case of emergency, but the creatures were naturally herd animals. This needle would play with Jophiel’s needle as they fed together and played.
Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 49
