Shalia's Diary Omnibus

by Tracy St. John

  His cocks nudged at me and prodded pliant openings. Only this round, it was my rear entrance that was entreated by the larger, thicker primary shaft to yield. My breath caught at the slight strain of taking Betra, but in excitement rather than fear. I moved against him, meeting his initial thrust with my own.

  Instead of moving toward climax with gradual quickening and power as Oses and I had, the rhythm with Betra moved in random cycles. One moment saw us working frantically, as if we would snatch orgasm immediately. Then we slowed, the pace easy and relaxed. Sometimes we lay still, feeling the beauty of our bonding, content with being joined and not chasing any completion. Then slow but strong and steady thrusts, awakening to our individual power, taking each other in turns.

  With every passing second, Betra and I re-forged our temporary union. We let ourselves love while acknowledging that in the end separation would come and it would be painful for us both. It made our joining all the sweeter for the underlying bitterness.

  Again, lust insisted on having its say. At the end, I was on my knees, my face pillowed on my folded arms. Betra gripped my hips as he knelt behind me, shoving me on his cocks even as he pumped hard into me. He reached beneath, stroking my avid clit until I screamed with burning release, my hands clawing the linens. As my sex convulsed, I felt Betra release liquid fire inside me, adding to the inferno rather than dousing it. We heaved and squalled, rabid beasts that made a glorious mess of my bed in the process.

  It’s great to be back.

  July 27

  We’ve reached Alneusia. Most of the gang has gone on shore leave, but I’ve elected to stay on board and be with Anrel. Feru and Tep are not happy with me on that account. They are pushing me to take in some fresh air, maybe walk on the beaches or a swim in the ocean. Betra and Oses would also prefer me to go down on the planet. They hint that the water sports we’d engage in down there are nothing I can dare imagine.

  How can I though, with what lies ahead for my daughter?

  The Solns responded to Tep’s inquiries. They have suggested a surgical procedure to correct the heart valve problem. I haven’t gotten the particulars on it, because Tep himself continues to look over the process.

  “I won’t lie to you,” he told me in that firm, no-nonsense voice of his. “I’ve never had to operate on such a tiny child. That and her level of strength are what give me pause. However, the Soln hive has sent me step-by-step directions and how we might implement the surgery using nanobots.”

  I shuddered to think of the tiny robots, which look like itty-bitty black bugs, crawling around in my baby. “It sounds pretty invasive,” I ventured.

  “Actually, the incision point would be so small as to make it extremely safe,” Tep said. “The nanos will be sterilized and they’ll do only what I tell them to. It’s better than my big Kalquorian hands blundering around her thin arteries and little heart. Let me familiarize myself with the whole procedure before making a final decision. If I feel without a doubt that I can carry this out, I’ll let you know.”

  In the meanwhile, Anrel continues to be on medication and an IV for feedings. I hate seeing her connected to the incubator, but what can I do? At least she continues to put on weight and do well overall. She still loves to suck on her fist.

  Betra and Oses returned from their first foray on Alneusia. Both were quite relaxed and happy ... I’m glad their water activities are giving them such fun. I am curious as to what it is they’re doing there due to the fact Betra won’t have actual intercourse with Oses. When I asked, they would only grin at me and tell me I had to come down to the planet to find out.

  “I’m not leaving Anrel,” I insisted.

  “Why? There is not one thing you can do for her. If it’s just that you don’t want her left alone, someone will sit with her while you enjoy a break,” Betra said.

  I fought admitting he was right. Candy, Katrina, and the men they keep company with had already offered, as had Feru. Everyone is after me to grab a break for myself. If Anrel has any medical problems, I can’t help. Yet I can’t shake the feeling I’d be selfishly abandoning her just to have some fun. It feels wrong.

  I said as much. Oses rolled his eyes. Betra blew out a sigh.

  “I hate to tell you this, but Feru and Tep are discussing issuing a medical order for you to go on shore leave,” my liaison informed me. “You’re not exercising enough even with Resan’s physical therapy. You need to breathe some real air. You have to grant yourself a break for emotional well-being.”

  It pissed me off that the psychologist and doctor were conniving to make me leave Anrel’s side. “They can’t do that!”

  Oses raised an eyebrow at me. “They can. If they believe your physical and mental welfare is dependent on taking some time off, they have the authority to insist you do so. If you refuse, they’ll have me as head of ship’s security, order a team to escort you to the planet.” He gave me a dangerous smile. “In such a case, I am bound to obey their orders.”

  That news left me fuming. Everyone was ganging up on me. Maybe it was for my own good, but I didn’t appreciate being strong-armed.

  I gave Oses a frosty look. “I’ll go to Alneusia when you are ordered to take me there.”

  Fuck the whole bunch of them until then.

  I was a slightly mollified when Betra gave me a package. “Clan Seot ordered some gifts for you from a couple of Alneusian businesses. I went ahead and picked them up for you.”

  “More presents?” I was touched. Between Meyso asking the Solns to help Tep, and the generosity of Clan Seot, I was being spoiled silly. I tried not to act too giddy over the package for Betra’s sake, but his expression was only curious.

  He saw that I noted his interest. “I suppose you want to open this in private.”

  “Well, I doubt they’ve sent anything personal.” I sat in the chair next to Anrel’s incubator. I started to open up the sealed box. “Oses appreciated the last round of gifts.”

  The Nobek chuckled. “We’ll have to pull that vid recorder out again. I don’t suppose it’s waterproof? If I am able to drag you to Alneusia—” he let the innuendo hang in the air.

  I got the container open and crowed delight at the first thing I saw. “No, that vid recorder isn’t waterproof, but this is.”

  I lifted the clear-shell cased vid recorder. It stood to reason that the ocean-living Alneusians would have cameras perfect for underwater recording. Cifa had bought me one. The attached note said Practice while you’re on shore leave. I have no doubt you’ll have many ideas of the vids we can create for the cruise line and travelogues.

  Oh man, could I ever come up with some amazing footage with a vid recorder like this. I almost hoped Tep and Feru would force me to go to Alneusia just so I could try it out.

  Seot’s gift was in a tiny box. I read the note before I opened it. My defense plants have supplied these to several worlds including Alneusia. It’s up to you whether you use them for yourself and Anrel, but it might help settle your mind on safety issues. Give the implantation instructions to the transport’s medical staff. It’s not a difficult procedure.

  I opened it to discover a couple of small cylindrical tubes inside. Tiny metal squares, barely a quarter of the size of my pinkie fingernail, rattled within them. I held them up for Betra and Oses to see, my look questioning.

  Betra’s jaw dropped open and a corner of Oses’s mouth twitched up in a grin. “Planet range sub-dermal trackers,” the Nobek told me. “Expensive to produce. Only the richest and highest priority targets in the known worlds can afford them. Even our last and present Imperial Clans don’t have them.”

  “I doubt it’s the cost that keeps them from doing it. At least one of them has issues with someone being able to track them down. Emperor Clajak used to disappear a lot to avoid duties when he was prince.” Betra snickered.

  “What are they?” I asked.

  “You implant them surgically under the skin,” Betra explained. “If you go missing, the manufacturer – Dramok Seot’s
firm, in this instance – activates the tracker. It’ll read the signal anywhere on a planet twice the size of Kalquor. In space, it can track a similar distance.”

  “For real?” My mind boggled at the range of the tiny transmitters. “I didn’t realize anything could track that vast an area.”

  Oses took a tube from me and eyed its contents with appreciation. “As I said, this technology is insanely expensive to produce. You could buy yourself a fleet of ships with this.”

  “And Seot gave you two.” Betra’s voice was awed. “One for you and another for Anrel.”

  I saw why they were so impressed. Holy prophets, the things were worth a fortune. What struck me more than Seot’s incredible generosity was the peace of mind he offered. If Anrel had one of these ... and crazy Nang got to her and tried to kidnap her...

  “I could find her anywhere,” I breathed.

  “As long as she’s not transported off-planet or out of range. People would be searching before a kidnapper could make it that far. A fine gift.” Oses handed the tube back. “One that would have made it easier to track you on Finiuld’s ship, phased or not. I hope you’ll consent to having it implanted.”

  “That’s pretty much a no-brainer,” I affirmed. “I’ll talk to Tep about it today.”

  Larten’s gift was last and had me blinking in confusion. “Well. Next time the kitchen serves up ronka that hasn’t been properly tenderized, I’ll be ready.”

  I held up the biggest, scariest knife I’d ever seen in my life. Double-edged, serrated, and over half the length of my forearm not counting the grip, it was perhaps the most brutal weapon I’d ever encountered.

  Betra was taken aback. “By the ancestors, why would Nobek Larten send such a thing?”

  Again, Oses held his hand out and I took exaggerated care in giving him the knife. The damned thing looked sharp. I had a vision of it slicing through Oses’s fingers with the ease of cutting into butter. The weapons commander eyed it with a keen gaze.

  “A beautiful blade, if you understand how to use it. It’s light, perfectly weighted and the right length for Shalia. I doubt you’d see a finer wrought knife outside of Joshada.” He crooked a smile at me. “Forget about using it to cut your food. This is a fighting knife.”

  Betra shook his head. “Again, why?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Larten wants Shalia to be able to defend herself if she must. A thoughtful gesture, but she’s not trained for it.” Oses twirled the blade on the tip of a finger and drew blood. His grin was bright, the crazy Nobek. “I can give her a few lessons.”

  “A knife.” Betra rolled his eyes. “Of all the things to send a woman you’re supposed to be romancing.”

  “A woman who attracts trouble just by jumping out of bed in the morning,” I reminded him. “Do you think you can train me so that I don’t hack my own ears off, Oses?” It sounded like a cool skill to have.

  “A little, at least enough to be safe with it. I’m adequate with knives, but hand-to-hand is my best skill. I’m not surprised Nobek Larten would opt for knives, however.”

  “Why is that?” Oses sounded as if he knew a secret.

  “When I checked his history, I found he was once courted by the empire’s elite fighting force. That group of warriors is connected to our ground troops but operates independently. Larten went in on a trial basis and did well before he decided it wasn’t for him.”

  “I wonder why he didn’t go through with it?” I mused.

  “Probably because he met his Dramok around then. The elite fighters never clan, because they are constantly deploying to trouble hotspots. There is no home life for that bunch.”

  Betra seemed impressed. “Just to be invited is a high honor. He must be astounding.”

  “Larten was trained in blade fighting by no less than then-High Commander Bevau. Our current Nobek emperor.” Oses grinned at me. “To use your Earther parlance, Emperor Bevau is a badass when it comes to knives. He remarked in Larten’s records that he was among the best fighters he’d ever trained.”

  Wow. Praise from a Kalquorian emperor was a pretty big deal. I needed to be more impressed than ever with Larten.

  When Oses gave me my knife, I accepted it with a lot more reverence than I’d had before. I curled my hand around the rough metal grip. For all its solidity, the blade was light. I moved it about, admiring how the light caught on its coldly beautiful edges.

  “Until I start training you on the basics, get used to holding it every day,” Oses encouraged. “Think about it not as a tool or weapon. You should come to regard it as an extension of your arm, a part of your own body.”

  I nodded and considered the goodies Clan Seot had sent. Useful things, things I could definitely appreciate. They along with Clan Aslada, Oses, and Betra ... as well as Candy, Katrina, Tep, Feru, Clan Wotref ... heck, tons of people were watching out for me and Anrel. I am a lucky gal.

  July 28

  Tep and Feru lowered the boom on me, just as Betra warned they would. I have been ordered to take shore leave for my own good.

  I’m irritable about the matter, but not quite as irate as I was yesterday when I heard about it. Katrina had been forewarned by her Imdiko sweetheart, Dr. Ret. She immediately volunteered to sit with Anrel while I spend a couple of hours in sunshine and ocean. Tep made a point of showing me how excellent all of my baby’s readings are.

  “She’s thriving,” he smiled. “The medication continues to keep her well oxygenated and she’s put on two pounds since we started with intravenous feeding. Anrel is doing great.”

  Then Oses showed up. He stared at me expectantly. I know when I’m beat.

  “Let me dress for my trip,” I sighed. “Is Betra coming with us?”

  “He’s already on the shuttle. Don’t forget the underwater vid recorder. You’ll want it.”

  Oh boy. A thrill went through my girlie bits to hear that. Then I realized he’d said it in front of Tep, who smirked at me. Damn it, that man is still hearing about my extracurricular activities.

  I had nothing particularly swim-appropriate as far as clothing was concerned. On Earth, we’d worn neck-to-ankle outfits that were light but manufactured to not cling when wet. I had the idea that at some point I wouldn’t be wearing a thing in the Alneusian sea. I chose a frothy blouse and skirt for whatever actual dry shore time Oses and Betra might allow me to have.

  We were off to Alneusia within twenty minutes. The shuttle ride was wonderful in that it was uneventful. It set down on a small landing pad near the beach.

  I’d forgotten how I loved being on the seashore, and this spit of land on the mostly water-covered Alneusia was particularly lovely. In the distance, massive many-limbed trees spread a canopy of green broad-leafed branches. They reminded me of southern oaks on Earth, but were probably fifty times bigger. I bet I could have used just one of the dark green leaves as a blanket. I marveled, thinking as big as they appeared from miles away, they were probably even more impressive up close.

  The beach itself was pearly white, shining with a luster that dazzled the eye under the twin suns that blazed overhead. The sand was coarse, almost crystalline bits of quartz. I was glad to have my slippers on. This was not sand to dig one’s toes in. Their source dotted the land and heaved out of the golden stretch of water that hugged the coast: massive rock formations. They were craggy but awesome sights, these outcroppings of massive ivory stone. I saw a few Earthers and Kalquorians scaling them, playing at rock-climbing and standing atop them to gaze out at the endless sea.

  The water was beautiful. In the distance it appeared as blue as any of Earth’s oceans, an indigo plain where the occasional white dash of a wave would appear. As it approached the beach, it shaded to turquoise, then aquamarine, then a pale blue that transformed into the appropriate shade of seafoam green. Finally, it turned that strange and spectacular gold that lapped the pearly shore with whitened foam. I’d never seen anything that compared to it.

  If not for the harsh sand of the shore or the oppressive heat o
f the twin suns beating down on me, I would have happily sat there for hours listening to the surf hiss to and fro and looking out over the tranquil scenery. I’d loved the beach back home. Among my favorite splurges had been renting a tiny condo on the coast for a long weekend (all I could afford). I’d had my morning coffee on the balcony, gone out to walk the sand and take a dip when I got a bit warm, then sat in a folding chair until lunch. A nearby snack shack had provided me with a quick sandwich and some water, and then I was on the beach again. Occasionally, I would read or walk or swim. Mostly I just sat and contemplated the beach and ocean. When dinner hour rolled around, I went to my room and put together a simple meal. I ate out on the balcony, feeling divine in the sea-salt air. A couple of instances, I found it worthwhile to go down to the condo’s pool, where I talked with honeymooning couples or those celebrating anniversaries or those simply taking a few days’ vacation like myself. People on holiday were relaxed and happy and nice. I enjoyed the company because it was fleeting, with no demands to make or expect.