by Viki Storm
“I love you, too,” I say. “And I would want our children to know what it means to be a Zalaryn. But what will I do here?” I ask. “I never had a real job before. I worked in a pawn shop. I don’t even think there’s a pawn shop on the planet.”
“But there’s always a need for second-hand goods. You could curate a shop and resell things. That’s keeping in the spirit of this settlement; being frugal is one of their core values.”
“Maybe,” I say, but in truth, I’d been thinking of the very same thing. Not a pawn shop that takes advantage of people and charges ridiculous rates on loans, but an honest second-hand shop, as Orlon suggests.
“Come on,” he says. “We can flesh out the plans later. Let’s go back inside.”
“I do feel better,” I say. “A little at least, but I don’t think I can stand any more celebrations or toasts tonight.”
“I didn’t mean back in there,” he says, cocking a thumb at the celebration hall. A devious smile spreads across his face. “I meant to our room.”
“The name doesn’t matter,” Suse says.
“Of course it does,” I say. “You humans are supposed to be emotional and deal in euphemisms, and you’re telling me that the name does not matter?”
“Not really,” she says. “What does a name even mean? What does ‘Orlon’ mean? What does ‘Zalaryx’ mean? It’s just sounds.”
“Nonsense,” I say. Sometimes this woman is infuriating.
“Why are you obsessed with naming it anyway?” she asks. “It’s not even ours yet.”
“It will be, after we destroy it.”
The Guuklar planet is on the radar, and we will be there soon. We took out most of the bastards during the attack, but there are still some left on their home planet. Not a lot, as the Guuklar were not a populous race, given their propensity to kill each other.
“What about Zalaria?” she suggests. “Or Zalaro Prime?” We’ve been trying to think of names for the planet, after we destroy the rest of the foul creatures that live there and level their primitive buildings to the ground. It will be the location of the next settlement colony, Zalaryns and humans alike.
“You’re hopeless,” I say.
“I like Zalaro Prime,” she says. “Oh, shit!” She points out at the sky and a squadron of heavy fighter ships blows past us. The missiles start to drop; the lasers start to burn; the particle blasters start to annihilate.
Our ship is not going into battle—both Suse and I have had enough battling to last a lifetime. I monitor the weapons systems and coordinate the attack, refreshing new targeted coordinates and directing the ships based on the scans of the ground.
I wanted to leave Suse on Lekyo Prime, but she said she wanted to finish what her father started. He had flown to the Guuklar home planet with Bantokk and firebombed the imperial mansion—and this time the Zalaryn squadron will bomb the rest of the planet, exterminating the despicable Guuklar race once and for all.
It’s not a difficult task, as most of the Guuklar were with Tos and his failed raid on Lekyo Prime, and the planet is ash in less than thirty minutes.
“There,” I say when the assault is over. “Was that enough closure for you? Did it sate your bloodlust?”
“Closure, yes,” she says. But she’s looking a little ill.
“Are you alright?” I say. I put my hand to her hugely swollen belly. She’s due to deliver our first offspring next week, but the healers can only estimate the timeframe, and I can sense that it’s coming soon. It’s why I wanted to leave her on Lekyo Prime—but we both know that I have a hard time denying her when she’s set her mind to something.
“I’m fine,” she says. “It’s just that I expected to feel triumph or at the very least, relief.”
“What do you feel?” I ask.
“Sad, mostly,” she says. “There were a bunch of evil jerks on that planet. Now they’re all dead. It’s all just a senseless waste.”
I take her hand in mine. “That’s where you’re wrong,” I say. “This planet—Zalaro Prime or whatever we end up calling it—will be the flourishing home to Zalaryns and humans both. Anyone who wants to contribute to society, find a mate and bear offspring will be welcome. Many of the humans slated to relocate here are human captives that have been liberated in the raids of the past months.”
“That is poetic justice,” she agrees.
After destroying most of the Guuklar and Rulmek, the Zalaryns and humans on Lekyo Prime and Zalaryx coordinated several raids. Why not? Zalaryns are born warriors, born raiders—born conquerors. We put our skills to good use, storming planets with major slave markets and freeing the captives. Mostly they’re females, but there are a surprising number of male human captives, too—both performing as pleasure slaves and common forced laborers.
We’ve made a lot of enemies, but it is practically irrelevant. There have been lots of trade embargoes and empty threats, but that’s fine. We do not wish to engage in commerce with any immoral planet—and they do not have the nerve to take on the combined might of the Zalaryn and human forces. Slavers and fleshtraders prey on the weak and the vulnerable because they have no prowess to go up against a formidable adversary—such as the Zalaryn warriors.
“It is indeed,” I agree. “What’s better than the formerly enslaved taking over the planet of their slavers? It’s not senseless.”
“I guess you’re right,” she says.
“I always am,” I say. She slugs me on the arm, and it’s so damned cute, the way her tiny fist bounces off me without causing any pain.
“Are we done here?” she says. “I’m ready to go back. I think my bloodlust is sated for the rest of my life.”
- - -
I watch Suse tend to the babies with a mixture of admiration and anxiety. “You’re a natural,” I tell her.
“I would hope so,” she says. “I mean, if the human race has existed for tens of thousands of years, women should instinctively know how to take care of a baby.”
Bryn and Lia’s children are only a few months apart, but Bryn’s child, Erlo, being older, he’s already crawling around taking the lead. Even at this young age, Lia’s child, Benk, is obviously trying to emulate his older cousin.
Suse is sitting on the floor with the two babies, changing Benk’s diaper, folding the cloth and sliding it under his plump little baby butt with one expert flick of the wrist. She wraps up the soiled one and turns around to toss it into the laundry chute—but Erlo senses her moment of weakness and starts to crawl away. He’s remarkably fast, his little legs pumping over the floor, hips swaying back and forth like a warrior trying to crawl underneath a tripwire perimeter.
“Son of a King,” she hisses at Erlo. “Get back here.” But little Erlo is already halfway across the room, looking for things to either put in his mouth, knock over—or both. Suse scrambles to catch him, groaning on her hands and knees as she crawls after the little princeling. She gets to him and picks him up.
“That was a superb show,” I say. “My mate on her hands and knees. Remember it, for you’ll be in this position later tonight, letting me use your body for my pleasure as I see fit.”
“Quit talking like that in front of the babies, you pervert,” she says. “And I will not be on my hands and knees unless it’s on the bed. This stone floor is hell on the knees. I don’t know how the little bugger crawls on the floor like it’s nothing.”
“He weighs less,” I say. “And he’s covered in a thick layer of baby fat. It’s how they crawl on the stone floor and fall on their bellies twenty times a day without too many tears.”
Suse is sliding on her rump back to the blanket she laid out to change the diapers, holding Erlo on one hip.
“Uh-oh,” I say. “I think little Benk has inherited his mother’s charming attitude.”
Suse looks at Benk, on his back right where she left him, the unfolded diaper underneath his butt. There is a perfect stream of urine shooting up in the air, arcing like a regal fountain, and landing right on the stack of cle
an diapers. I can’t help laughing, but Suse shoots me a glare.
“You know, you can help. You don’t have to sit on your ass watching me struggle,” she says.
“You’re the one who told me that you wanted to take care of them all by yourself,” I say in my defense. “I know less about the proper care of offspring than I know about the greatest Earth poets of the twenty-second century.”
“Then at least go fetch a servant to bring a tub of warm water. I might as well give them a bath.”
I go get the water myself, knowing that one of the serving girls will struggle carrying a large tub of water up the stairs.
The two babies are a handful, but Suse insisted on watching them both tonight so that Lia and Bryn could have a sister’s night of… doing whatever it is that females do when they’re together. I know Vano and Bantokk to be capable of caring for their own offspring, but Suse wanted to. She’s nervous about her own impending birth, and she thinks that caring for two babies will sufficiently prepare her. “If I can take care of two,” she’d said, “then I should be able to handle our one.”
She bathes them, diapers them and dresses them for sleep without incident, becoming more confident in her abilities as the night wears on. It’s a pleasure for me just to watch her work—and makes me all the more excited for our own child to arrive.
I clean up the water basin and soiled diapers for her while she gets the babies settled in their cribs in the other bedroom. She finally tip-toes out, closing the door slowly and gently so it doesn’t make any noise, and puts her finger to her mouth in the human gesture of ‘be quiet.’
“You cleaned up?” she says, her voice soft but noticeably tired from dealing with the babies all night.
“I’m capable of more than bludgeoning enemies on the head,” I say in my defense. “Besides, I wanted to expedite the process of getting you on your knees and available for my pleasure.” I reach out and grab her by the hips, pulling her into me, loving the way her huge belly feels pressed against me.
“Do you find it funny,” she says, spinning around in my arms and rubbing her ripe ass against my increasingly hard cock. “That every single time you fondle and lick me and make me come at least two or three times before you have your pleasure? Yet you still insist that it’s me who’s subservient to you? It seems quite the other way around to me.”
“Ah, but thrusting into a cunt that’s dripping wet with desire for my cock, listening to your screams and feeling your muscles tense and buck beneath me—that is my pleasure. And you serve me well.”
“You serve me well, too,” she says. I find the thin leather laces that close her flowing gown and begin to untie them, but I can only muster the patience to unlace them halfway. I take out her breasts and admire how they have grown huge with the milk that will nurture our offspring. She moans as I play with her nipples—they’ve become very sensitive during her pregnancy; just a few pinches and pulls and she’s wet and ready for me.
“Hmm, I missed a spot,” I say. I notice a small puddle of water on the stone floor. Normally I wouldn’t notice or care—not when I’ve got a raging erection and need a place to put it—but I do not want her to slip and hurt herself or the baby.
She stands there, panting and with her breasts pushing out the opening in her gown, while I find a towel to wipe up the bathwater. “Get on the bed,” I tell her. “And present yourself nude for your mate.” She gathers up her gown to the waist then pulls it overhead. She’s already bare underneath, and I can’t wait to feel the slick glide of my cock as I bury myself inside her.
I wipe up the water and stand, but then I notice something else. I hadn’t missed a spot when I was cleaning up.
This is not bathwater.
There is a thin trail of water on the floor—from where Suse was standing all the way to the bed. Not bathwater at all.
“Your amniotic sac has ruptured,” I inform her. “Your time has come.”
“What?” she asks. I point to the floor and she stares in puzzlement for a moment.
“The child is coming,” I say. “We will get you to the healer.”
“Hold on,” she says. “Wait, I don’t have any contractions. It can’t be.”
“It’s time,” I repeat. “Let’s go.”
I gather her things while she puts her gown back on. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her face pale. “You don’t need to be nervous,” I say. “I’ll be right with you the whole time.”
“I know,” she says. “But you’re not about to have some alien creature burst through your vagina.”
“I’m glad I’m not,” he says. “I don’t think you’d love me as much if I didn’t have a cock.”
She smiles and stands up. “Then let’s go,” she says. “This is it, isn’t it?”
“What?” I ask.
“The sort of defining moment of before and after,” she says.
“I think it is,” I say. “If you’re lucky, you will have many such moments in your life. Some bad, but most good. This one? This will be the best. Because even though you’re the most important thing in my life right now, we’re not enough. Adding another will increase our love exponentially. You’ll wonder how you lived without offspring. You won’t remember what it was like because it will be so dim and unfulfilling in comparison.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about this,” she says. “How can you be so calm?”
“I know it in here.” I take her hand and put it on my chest. “The same way that I knew you were my mate the moment I saw you. The same way I know I love you. The same way I know we will love our offspring and be competent caregivers.”
“I love you, too,” she says. “Thank you for tolerating me while I figured it out.”
“It was my pleasure,” I say. “Now come on, let’s get to the healer before things progress any further. And let’s find a servant to sit with the babies until Bryn and Lia can get here. That’s one of the benefits of living in the palace; you can always find a servant when you need one.”
I take her to the healer, and he assures me things will go smoothly. I can’t contain my excitement—and part of it might be Suse’s accusation that it’s easy for me to be excited because I’m not the one going into labor. But I know that’s not all, not even by half.
For today is not just going to be the celebration of one new life.
It’s the start for all three of us.
The End
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VIKI STORM is the author of thought-provoking literary masterpieces science-fiction romance.
I live in Los Angeles and, like everyone else who lives here, I hate it and constantly threaten to move. I studied creative writing in school, but it was the sort of creative writing program where you’d get kicked out for writing about getting banged by an alien warrior.
I’m married and a proud parent (to an actual human child, not a ‘dog parent’ or ‘cat parent’ though I do have a cat).
I read just about anything. Except for non-fiction. I don’t know if I ever finished reading a non-fiction book.
