by Myra Star
DETAINED
The Lord Commander’s Will
Myra Star
Copyright 2017 by Myra Star
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced
in any way whatsoever, without written permission
from the author, except in case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews
and articles.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any
character, person, living or dead, events, place or
organizations is purely coincidental. The author does not
have any control over and does not assume any responsibility
for third party websites or their content.
First edition, 2017
DESCRIPTION
Once a successful space scientist, Lily Hawthorn now dances on tables in a nightclub bar, against her will. The Lord Commander of Epsilon is on a mission to capture and kill the creature that’s threatening to destroy his planet. Nothing can distract him from his mission…until he falls under the spell of Lily’s captivating charms.
The Lord Commander believes he’s captured a pliant and subservient siren who will make the perfect bride, putting a stop to his uncle’s tiresome matchmaking. It’s only once they’re wed that Lily’s true nature is revealed. Anything but the willing bride, sparks fly between Lily and the arrogant, prideful Lord Commander.
With the threat of Epsilon’s total annihilation hanging over them both, and an unwanted visitor who poses a greater threat than Lily could ever begin to imagine, the reluctant couple are pushed together by fortune and a persistent, yet unwanted, attraction.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter One
The bar stank. It was full of destitute and desperate creatures, betting their fortunes away on the luck of a dice throw. Countless women danced from poles, mostly human women taken prisoner by space pirate crews; ex scientists, captains, and engineers. Earth’s intelligent elite, now erotically undulating up and down grease-smeared poles.
An ichorous tentacle wrapped round his waist.
“What’s your business here, stranger?”
The creature had a small beak for a mouth, its eyes mere slits in its octopi-like form.
“Whatever it is, it’s not yours.”
Caleb removed the repugnant tentacles, his grip tight enough to make the monstrous creature wince. A foul-smelling puss dripped from the suckers that ran on the underbelly of the limb, running onto Caleb’s hand. He wiped it on an empty barstool with disgust.
Caleb moved on, continuing his hunt. He stuck to the dimmer parts of the bar, hanging back in the shadows and under an almost constant cover of thick cigar smoke.
“Wanna play, son of Epsilon?”
Fat, tobacco-chewing lips spat out the invitation. Caleb eyed the creature’s wide girth, spilling over the stool. Like all of the Arae race, he was a Cyclops. His one eye was stained a mustered yellow, and shot through with blood vessels.
“I’m looking for someone. I’m willing to pay for information.” Caleb replied.
Arae’s were always for hire. They had no loyalty to the planets in this solar system, or any other, and so could always be relied on to divulge information. At a price.
“I don’t know you, son of Epsilon. Loose lips can get you in trouble around here. How you going to make it worth my time?”
The Cyclops growled in a low voice, turning away from his gambling partners already seated at the table. Caleb opened his jacket, revealing bright blue Apatite rocks sewn into the lining. The Cyclops eyed them greedily.
“Then friends we are, son of Epsilon.”
The Cyclops shooed away the cronies at the table; muttering and whining they scuttled off and disappeared into the crowd.
The Cyclops began to shuffle a grease-stained pack of cards. He dealt them out of the table, keeping up appearances. He no longer had any interest in the game; he was now entirely focused on the contents of Caleb’s jacket.
“I’m looking for a Gliesian,” Caleb spoke in low tones, “a Legion Commander.”
The Cyclops nodded sagely, “Say no more. There is only one creature that the Epsilons want. His whereabouts will cost you.”
Caleb was about to reply, when a figure in the distance caught his eye. It was one of the dancers, swaying to the rhythm of the music that was being blasted out of the bar’s tinny-sounding speakers. She was voluptuous, the small bikini briefs and bra barely concealing her pale flesh; Caleb was transfixed by the sway of her hips, the narrow waist that tapered down before splaying out into a rounded backside. Her breasts were high and full, in danger of toppling out of the skimpy and distasteful glittered creation she’d been dressed in.
Her eyes caught his across the room. They were soft and compliant, her irises a dreamy blue that seemed too clear and fresh for the room she was in. A thick metal collar hung from around her neck; the reason for her compliance. Her hair hung in thick tendrils around her face; unwashed and grimy and littered with bright blue and pink extensions, so Caleb couldn’t really decree what its true colour was.
“Well?” Demanded the Cyclops, “are you not listening to me? Payment - what price will you put on your planet’s future, brave yet foolhardy son of Epsilon?”
“Whatever you want,” murmured Caleb, still transfixed by the dancer.
“Ten mass compounds, out on the table.”
The Cyclops growled out his request. Caleb removed the Apatite rocks from his jacket, and placed them on the small measuring device in the middle of the table. Each of the gambling tables had them, in order to ascertain the worth of various gems and minerals used for payment.
The measurement dial read ten MC, and the Cyclops grunted his approval. He leant closer to Caleb heaving his body over the gambling table.
“He’s been here, every night for the past week. Gathering mercenaries to join his army from all over. He vows that not a single Epsilon will be left alive come winter-tide.”
Caleb nodded, this he already knew.
“Where is he based? He must be amassing them somewhere,” queried Caleb.
“That I do not know, cursed son of Epsilon.”
“Then you have told me nothing,” Caleb retorted, reaching out his hand to collect the rocks.
“Hold steady, hold steady,” hissed the Cyclops, “for five more mass compounds, I will give you his whereabouts tonight.”
“You’ll tell me now, Arae - or you’ll forfeit your life.”
Caleb slammed his hand down on the arm of the Cyclops, and retrieved a hunting dagger from his calf holster. It glinted in the light, and the Cyclops jerked backward in response.
“Foolish Epsilon, he is here in this room - and has been readying his attack this past hour!”
Several things happened at once. Caleb slammed the knife into the arm of the Cyclops, pinning him to the table.
The crowded bar ducked for cover as eight creatures, all in hooded g
arb, reared up and splintered the air with rapid bullet fire. Two of the dancers fell from their perches, wounded. Caleb noticed with relief that neither were the girl he’d spied earlier.
Caleb knocked the gambling table backward, trapping the Cyclops beneath it. From his waist holster he extracted two laser guns, aiming at two of his attackers. He made his target, and they blew into gore-covered hunks of flesh.
He shot two more. As the blood and puss splattered on every available surface, Caleb spied his dancer, cowering under one of the tables. He deliberated for a moment, furious that he was wasting precious seconds on insignificant thought, and then flipped backward - annihilating two more of his attackers as they paused to reload.
He leapt forward. Reaching down under the table, he grabbed the hair of the earthling, and dragged her out from underneath. He lifted her easily into his arms, and began to run for the exit and his waiting spacecraft.
Bullets fired after him; one caught him in the upper thigh though merely grazed his outer muscle, ripping though the fabric of his pants.
Close call, Caleb.
He made it to his waiting craft; door already unlocked and waiting for its master to enter. Had any other creature set foot inside, the entire craft would have combusted.
As it was, the sentient alarm sounded loudly.
“Unidentified persons in the hull! Unidentified persons in the hull!
“I know!” Caleb shouted, slamming down the emergency close button as he ran up to the top of the entrance ramp, and landed safely inside.
“Engage launch!” He yelled to the craft, “prepare all systems ready for launch!”
The engine rumbled to life. Caleb tossed the girl on to the passenger seat, and hurried to the control panel. The craft practically flew itself, but with multiple weapons still firing, Caleb felt safer taking control of the navigation.
A split second later they had zoomed beyond the reach of the firing squad, a moment after that and they were free; out of the planet’s atmosphere and traveling through the Hexon galaxy.
Chapter Two
“Any luck?” Caleb’s emissary greeted him as he stepped from the spacecraft.
“None. He was in the bar, but didn’t reveal himself.”
“Good to see you safe and sound,” the emissary replied, “you were longer gone than expected.”
“There was an attack.” Caleb replied curtly.
“How many?”
“Eight.”
“Then we are lucky to have you alive.”
“Do you think so little of my battle skills, Credor?” Caleb teased, “that I can’t escape eight weapons for hire?”
The emissary bowed in horror, appalled that his remark may have caused offence.
“My Lord Commander, please forgive me!”
“Credor - I’m joking. Calm down.”
Caleb strode from the ship, glad to be back on home turf. The planet he’d been on was one of the worst in the galaxy; polluted, disintegrating and its air heavy with noxious gasses. Epsilon was a paradise in comparison.
“Oh,” he paused mid stride, “and fetch the female on the ship.”
“What female?” Credor yelped.
“The earthling I took from the bar. A human captive - and a pretty one at that. Have her washed and sent to my chambers.”
“Right away, my Lord.”
Credor hurried off to do his master’s bidding; his small lizard tail trailing slumped along behind him - an indicator of his disapproval.
Caleb strode into his palace, the servants lining up along the entranceway to greet him. He nodded at them dutifully, his mind already wandering off to battle strategies and mission deployments.
He needed to meet with his armies; they couldn’t afford to wait for their enemy to come to them. They needed to attack.
He turned to the nearest servant, “Fetch me Lieutenant Varga, I want to see him in the briefing room.”
The servant nodded, darting into the palace. Caleb continued his journey to his chambers, eager to shower off the blood and ichor that had stuck to his garments and which stunk to high heaven.
“Lord Commander, Lord Commander,” Credor’s breathless voice followed him down the hallway, “I’ve sent the earthling to be washed - but honestly, what will your uncle say? He will be so very disappointed!”
“He will, won’t he?” Caleb laughed to himself, “If it saves me another ill-matched arrangement, then I’ll gladly welcome his disappointment.”
Credor gave a small squeak of protest, “but my Lord, he is away now, searching the galaxy for your perfect bride!”
Caleb stopped in his tracks. Credor had inadvertently given him an excellent idea, one that would put an end to his uncle’s constant nagging for him to take a bride.
“You’re right,” mused Caleb, “but it will be a wasted journey. I intend to marry the slave.”
Credor practically toppled over in astonishment, he gasped - speechless at his master’s blatant disregard for his uncle’s wishes.
“My Lord!”
“Yes, Credor?” Caleb politely replied.
“But…what, what on Epsilon would make you want to do that? She’s a…human!” He spluttered his reply, desperately trying to keep up with Caleb as his master strode rapidly through the palace.
“She’s compliant. She’s here, it’s easy. It’s done. Prepare the formal wedding arrangements, and get out of my way Credor - I’ve had enough of your simpering for today.”
Caleb had endured enough of his lizard emissary for today; he wanted a hot shower, a meal and as soon as possible, a briefing with his Lieutenant.
“Yes, my Lord.”
Credor bowed deeply, clutching his robes with tense and anxious claws. The Lord Commander’s uncle would be devastated by this turn of events; he had long wanted Caleb to make an advantageous match that would politically align Epsilon with an equally strong planet, lessening their chances of invasion and costly wars.
Once in his chamber, Caleb found the shower already running; the air filled with the scent of jasmine blossoms and sweet cherry. He stripped off his battle suit, throwing it onto the open fire where it promptly burst into green flames. No amount of washing could have saved it.
He stepped beneath the pounding water, and sighed with relief.
He was battle weary. Today, seeing the various species that were willing to stand against Epsilon, just for a few pounds of Apatite in payment, had depressed him.
His planet was the richest and most fertile of all those within the Epsilon galaxy. As a result, they were no strangers to attempted planetary invasion. This time it was different.
The species were aligning, coming at them in full force - joined for once despite their petty differences. Caleb sighed; he was still to capture the creature that had masterminded it all.
Lucifer Kroer.
Caleb recalled his name in disgust. He was an inhabitant of planet Gliese; a debauched, degenerate planet full of thieves, murders and guns for hire. It had once been prosperous, but a three-year war with two of its neighboring planets had left it in tatters.
Many of its war refugees had sought sanctuary in Epsilon, where it had been freely given. By attacking Epsilon, Lucifer would be destroying countless numbers of his own species, and their half-breed offspring.
More anxious than ever to get to the briefing room, Caleb cut the water and found a towel. He had a war to start and a wedding to attend; time was of the essence.
Chapter Three
Caleb had to hand it to Credor. Despite his reservations, the giant lizard had done a great job. The banquet hall was decked with glowing Amethyst lights, with a feast so large that the tables creaked and groaned beneath its weight.
“Are you absolutely sure of the wisdom behind this marriage?” Caleb’s Lieutenant hissed at him as they stood waiting at the marriage bower; it was formed from brightly coloured crystallites and cast both men beneath a rainbow glow.
“Absolutely,” Caleb replied, “I trust none of the plane
ts that my uncle wishes to align with, mercenaries from throughout the galaxy are standing against us - a marriage won’t resolve that. And so, I shall not suffer one.”
“But a human bride, my Lord?” Lieutenant Varga questioned.
“What of it,” shrugged Caleb, “she’s biologically no different than our females, she will suffice.”
“You are a Lord Commander, do you not think our people will find it odd?”
“Perhaps. But it is no different from marrying any other species.”
Lieutenant Varga’s loyalty to Caleb prevented him from questioning him any further, but Caleb’s assertion that a human was the same as any other species in the Epsilon Gallery wasn’t quite accurate. Humans were considered far inferior to any other species - especially those who had previously served as slaves in other planets.
Lieutenant Varga privately thought that Caleb was playing with fire.
The band started up. A large celestial choir sung the opening notes of the Epsilon wedding aria. The choir was made up of Epsilon and Kayry crossbreeds; the Kayry’s were exceptional singers, having the same note range as hummingbirds. A hush descended over the audience.
Caleb turned toward the banquet entrance.
His breath hitched in his throat. The human entered the hall, her head bowed in submission. Her hair had been cleaned, and the extensions removed. Caleb saw now that her long, glossy curls were a golden, iridescent blonde.
His servants had dressed her in the traditional ceremony robes, long purple veils that fell softly around her feet and flowed like water as she glided up the makeshift aisle. Caleb recalled the body that was hidden beneath the robes, the luscious breasts and voluptuous curves. He anticipated the night ahead - when she would be left alone in his chambers to consummate their vows. Caleb smirked; she was a worthy prize for today’s near death experience.
The earthling joined Caleb beneath the rock bower. An Epsilon high monk stepped forward with The Decree of Rule, from which he would recite the vows.
