by Olivia Myers
Even as she called security and the authorities, she knew it was futile. She could hear the panic around her, the shouts, the curses, the cries.
"It's the AMB!"
"Someone call the Cogents!"
Once again, Larissa tried doing exactly that; if they could get here, she was confident they could stop this. As expected, the call didn't get through. She wouldn't be surprised if the whole city was lit up with this tonight.
She tried to calm people down, but that was impossible without lights and with the explosions still happening. Where was security? This was madness. Too close for comfort, another pressure explosion shook her and slammed her against a door.
From too far away came a voice... "They're shutting you down, Miss Larissa."
That voice should have been next to her, but it came from over by the rail. "Floyd? Is that you?" she called.
"Had to tell 'em," came his soft croak. She struggled upright and moved quickly towards the voice, wincing when her leg finally bumped something soft. A body.
"Who? Tell me who, Floyd!"
"The Anti-Mix. Brigade. Not right, all these aliens usin' our services, eatin' our food, mixin' with humans, specially their youngsters....had to give 'em codes...rooms...had to help 'em. Didn't want to hurt you. You shouldn't have opened this nightclub. The gates should never have fallen. Don't know what this world is coming to...."
His voice died. Larissa did not want to think about what that meant. Her throat tightening, she calculated the chances that he hadn't been fatally hurt by that blast and didn't like her sums. Pressure blasts were more of a disruption than a weapon, but to the old and frail they were deadly.
The lights went on then, and Larissa flinched. The light was dazzling. As her eyes adjusted, she caught sight of faces she knew, and bodies—most of them moving, thank the stars. At her feet, Floyd wasn't moving, just as she'd feared.
But the far more disturbing sight was the huge number of black-suited, hooded figures running about, their weapons at the ready.
The AMB. So many of them. And then there was no time to think. Something hit her on the hip and grabbed her, and she was yanked off her feet. She felt herself upturned, her arms flailing. It was terrifying. She craned her neck and saw a black hood. The arm around her waist was garbed in black.
"No!" she yelled and tried to twist down far enough to grab the figure's foot. If she could just get...yes! She got it! But her hand slipped away as her captor shifted her to a different angle.
The high-pitched zip of his artillery whizzed by her ear. The heat from his weapon was terrible. It seemed to burn through her clothes. She yanked her arms and legs and every part of her that she could move, determined not to make it easy for this bastard.
She'd almost lost hope of being released when she felt herself flying through the air. For a moment she thought the power had resumed and they were moving on airskayts—but no. She fell, fell...
...and landed with a thump on the softpad. Even after she landed it felt like she was continuing to fall as it did its job of absorbing the impact. She'd forgotten about the bounce; as it came, the grabby fabric hooked to the tiny loops in her bodysuit to keep her from shooting right back up. It tore a gaping hole in the side of her suit, but that was the least of her worries.
She looked around wildly. There was no sign of the figure that had grabbed her down here, so she knew it was still on the ledges. There was still nobody airskayting, so no air power; the lights had to be backup. Who had turned it on? The AMB? Black-suited figures ran at the rails all around. But something made a leap of hope jump in her heart. A flash of red. Another flash. Red flashes all around.
The Cogents.
Cautiously she got to her feet. The others that had fallen around her were less ambitious. They were groaning and yelling. Someone pulled her down, and she was thankful, because it probably wasn't a good idea to stick her neck out right now.
The Cogents were here. And now it wasn't a raid—it was a battle.
While the fighting went on, Larissa started herding everyone who'd fallen onto the softpad over to the sides. She wanted them as far under the ledge floors as possible, to get them out of the way of the action. It wasn't easy. Many were injured and their clothes were hooked to the softpad. Some of the more able-bodied helped lift the less-able-bodied ones and carry them along. She saw aliens helping humans, humans helping aliens.
She peered up at the rails where she'd been standing and saw Floyd's body. Someone was picking up the body, and Larissa knew she'd been right. The old man had been killed in the explosion caused by his own heroes. She shook her head.
With the Cogents invading, it took only a short time, shockingly short actually, for the masked black-suited raiders to be taken down.
Soon she saw the reason for the efficiency of the operation. One of their numbers had turned on the others. While the AMBs tried to elude the red figures, the one black-garbed figure kept slipping behind the others and stunning them with pressure darts. She didn't know what made her think it, maybe the size of the figure, but she'd bet anything it was the raider who'd grabbed her and dropped her.
Without moving, she watched him patrol for a while, somehow absolutely certain it was a "him."
And then, in a wave of dizziness, she knew him.
Almost the moment the last raider fell, the power was restored. The Wytrium's airspace quickly filled with people—mostly red-suited holding black-suited, carrying them away.
She only saw one. The figure in black leaned over the rail and looked down at the softpad, scanning, seeking...stopping when it found her.
Her heart felt like it was waiting to beat. The tall hooded man went motionless. Then he moved almost faster than she could follow with her eyes, taking off, zooming down and landing within arm's reach of her. She backed up instinctively. She was almost sure who it was, but just in case....
He ripped off his hood.
She said stoically, "Still pretending to be human, I see."
He was breathing hard, staring at her hard, looking her up and down. "You knew me?"
"I don't know how, but yes. Hello, Vector. What the hell are you doing here?"
"We can't talk here. Come with me."
"Why can't we talk here? Have you been paying attention? The world's just gone blackhole on us. Are you an Anti-Mixer? Are you a spy?" She yelled out the questions as he dragged her away from the pad and flew with her in his arms. Soon they were shut up in one of the empty gambling rooms. She backed away, even as he approached.
"We couldn't talk there," he said deliberately, "because you're half naked."
"What? I—" She glanced down. Oh. Her left breast, along with her naked hip and thigh, were gaping blatantly out of the hole ripped by the softpad. "That's your fault," she accused. "You threw me down and—"
"Threw you? I got you out of the way, dammit. You—" he stopped and drew a deep breath. "Could you please close that?"
"Close what? This?" Vengefully, she ripped the hole in her bodysuit even wider, until both her breasts were free and her nipples stood out proudly, practically as angry at him as she was.
He actually took a step back and very deliberately kept his gaze above her neck. "Listen. I'm sorry I couldn't warn you about any of this. I've been working on this sting a long time. We knew your nightclub was a target. It's one of several hit tonight all over this part of the galaxy."
"Galaxy? The AMB isn't just on Jax-9? I thought it was our problem."
He shook his head. "It's the AMB here. Something else somewhere else. There's a bigger organization pulling the strings, manipulating locals to do their dirty work. Look, I can't say much about it. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. You had nothing to do with this. I almost warned you. But that old man—what's his name—"
"Floyd?"
"He betrayed you, Larissa," he said soberly. "We needed to see which side he was really playing."
"You could have told me. You have to know I'd have helped you with your mission."
He frowned. "You? How would I know that? You're friendly with the man."
She thought he knew a hell of a lot for somebody who didn't patronize her club. "Correction: I was friendly, because he needed an ear and I needed a waitserver. He's dead, you know," she said quietly. "It was one of the AMD pressure explosives."
"I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "He brought it on himself." She walked over to the wall and looking out the viewport. The Wytrium was clearing out. Only Cogents were left. Probably friends of his. She wondered if he'd told them all about her—if she had been part of his mission somehow. She found she didn't want to know. She turned and faced Vector.
They didn't say anything for a while, just stared at each other. Larissa wondered if he'd just leave now. He hadn't come back for her, after all. His mission was the all-important thing. When he just stood there, his eyes never wavering, the look intensifying, she felt the warning flutter in her heart.
"Oh, no," she said, backing up. "Don't you dare turn those Resstessian eyes on me. You never called once. How many women did you take?"
"A few." He swallowed visibly. "Not many." He closed his eyes. "All right. None. I dated a few times. They weren't...."
"What?"
"Weren't nearly hounding and annoying enough." He scowled and his eyelids lifted and pinned her. "I hear you've been busy."
"Oh, yes?"
His voice was lashing now. "How many aliens have you fucked, Larissa? What's your favorite species? Any of them do you in the ass?"
Was she imagining the note of anguish underneath the taunt? She was tempted to reply in kind with "All of them," but couldn't bring herself to do that. A seed of hope grew. Could he be jealous? It had never occurred to her. But if so....
He growled, "Never mind. I don't want to know. Bye."
This man. She stomped her foot. "Vector! Don't you dare leave now!"
"Larissa, I'm warning you one more time. Cover those tits up, or I'm going to tie your hair around them and then around your wrists and then around those chair balusters and—"
"Do it, then," she whispered. "And get rid of that flaj while you're at it."
"Really? You want to see me without the flaj? You want it? All right, Larissa. Hold tight. Here you go." He began to walk toward her. His clothing fell from his body, starting with the black bodysuit and boots. By the time he'd reached her, his hand was at his throat. In a flash, he'd ripped off his artificial skin. By then, he was microns away, too close for her to get more than an impression of a blur of pale green. He grabbed for her.
The touch of his hand wasn't rough and moist, as she'd half expected. It was smooth and dry. She stepped back from it. He yanked her forward. She squirmed and pried herself away, then was forced back again, so close to his body she could feel the heat of him like fire.
"Stop fighting me," he bit out. "I could hurt you if you fight, you know that."
"I'm not trying to fight. I'm trying to get a good look at you," she retorted. "Stop pulling me so close, so I can see you." Abruptly his rigid hold eased. She leaned back as far as she could. It was enough. It was Vector. The real one.
Transfixed did not begin to cover it. Hypnotized. Novas in space, those eyes. Liquid blue, slitted, and far more human in shape than the low-res bioplay had shown.
To her relief, those Resstessian eyes revealed his mood as well as any human's could. They said he was wary and furious.
An ache clenched deep in her sex.
She reached up and touched his face.
Green was not the word. His scales were more like soft shell than anything else, half-transparent, so very tiny and each one a different color, together giving the effect of iridescent, shimmering green. They felt almost smooth on his angular cheekbone. She trailed the back of her hand down his neck and found the scales on his chest were larger, rougher. They almost had a velvety feel.
"Seen enough?"
His mouth was twisted in a sneer that revealed his sharp, pointed teeth. Not a lizard's teeth, she thought dizzily. A dragon's. Like in the old-world tales.
She registered the sensuous curve of his lips. A shudder took her body, rippled up her spine. A helpless sound escaped her.
This was too much. She had not expected this.
She took a step back. Gulped. "Uh, Vector—"
He followed. "You want to stop now? All done? But I thought you wanted me as I am. What do you think of my hair? Want to feel it?" He grabbed her hand. "There, you're feeling it. Like the color? No, don't stop now. Step back, Larissa. Take a good look. Here." He turned his back to her, swept his arms out to the sides.
Her jaw dropped. With his arms spread out like that, she was sure he was a dragon. Or a phoenix. Or something mythological. His torso was long, lean, and so muscled she could hardly take it in. All those ripples! She'd swear on anything that the Resstessian body had double the number of muscles as a human’s. No wonder he was surprised she couldn't stop her orgasm at will.
And all covered in film-thin scales—arms, back, legs. On his back they were broad, sweeping ones that shaped down in narrowing triangles to his...oh, dear stars. Was that what she thought it was...?
She stepped forward and reached out. It was. A tail. It twitched when she touched it. It was neat, short, and triangular, ending in an arrow right below the cleft of his buttocks began. So well groomed, in fact, that it was strangely reminiscent of a man's goatee.
He swirled around and advanced. There was no time to back up. He had her in his arms and he was crushing her—then he let go.
"Had enough? Good. About time." He looked wildly around and somehow she just knew he was intending to don his flajec again. It was obvious he'd be out of here as soon as he was dressed.
"No!" she panicked. "Don't put it back on! What are you thinking? You know you're—you're perfectly—and—"
This wasn't going very well. She didn't know what to do. She thought seriously of just throwing herself at him and knocking him down to the floor and having her way with him.
And then her gaze fell....
Her arm was halfway up before she remembered that pointing was rude. "Wha- what—is that?"
"That?" His voice was thick with disbelief. "That? You want to know what that is?" His facial scales stood out sharply, and she saw exactly what a furious Resstessian looked like. "That's my cock, Larissa. What did you think it was? After all the aliens you've scored by now, surely this is nothing odd to you. At least I have a fucking ball sac. We're not that far different species, you know."
"But—it's too—no, it's—well, hellborne novas."
The thing was huge. Enormous. Impossible. And slightly odd, besides.
Instead of being smooth, with a bulbous tip, as she had perhaps unreasonably expected, his cock was oddly textured—piped, with vertical corrugations running along its length. The end was puckered instead of slitted. It was pinkish-brown, so that was fine. And at least it had no scales. But still...
"I can't do it," she whispered. "I'm nowhere near that big." She looked at him with dark, grieving eyes. "You'd tear me open."
His mouth opened. Closed. Then he laughed shortly. "No, I wouldn't. On the contrary. You have no idea, do you?" He sighed. Flared his nostrils. "Here goes."
As she watched, some of the corrugations on the surface of his cock began to slide down. She let out a scream of surprise, then swiftly covered her own mouth. Layer by layer, the outer ridges of his cock retracted, until they had disappeared into his body, leaving another ridged surface. When that was done, his diameter was what Larissa considered far more reasonable, although it was still far too long...
Then the whole rest of it began to retract together.
Larissa's hand pressed her mouth harder. This was unreal. Positively bizarre. Thankfully, it stopped before going too far. She blinked. Now she was looking at what she thought of as a very well-endowed erection with a ridged, slightly odd-shaped penis.
"Better?"
"Much better." She exhaled.
He was p
anting. She saw the energy his efforts had cost him. "Now have you had enough?" he demanded.
"No. Why are you like that?"
He sighed. "What does it matter? You and I both know you're not letting that thing inside you, don't we? I've always known that. You talk a good game, Larissa, but—"
"Vector, you're wrong. I just want to know."
"You really want a biology lesson right now? Touch it," he challenged. "Hands-on is always the best way to learn."
Trembling, she went to him and reached out with her hand. She could see he didn't believe she'd do it.
It was not as hot as she had feared it would be. The skin felt far smoother and softer. She ran her fingers all around its arced length, squeezed and said, "Hey, ouch!"
"What's wrong?"
"It's not squishy at all."
"Sorry." He didn't sound it.
She probed the blunt tip, then gave a little shriek as a part of him peeled back. She jerked away. "I tore you!"
He shook his head. "It's not one solid piece. They're tubes."
"Tubes."
"Yes, at least the outer part. There's a solid inner tube in there, but it's not very thick." He sounded almost matter-of-fact, but the low rumble in his voice gave away how little he liked this conversation.
"Look," he said. "I already told you our women make eggs. Well, each egg hatches a different child. Genetically different."
"How?" she said incredulously. "I mean, humans have fraternal twins, but not like that."
"Each tube in the Resstessian penis makes different sperm," he said patiently as though to a child. "A woman typically makes a dozen different eggs in one cycle. The number of tubes in any mating determines the number of different genetic combinations and to a certain extent the number of eggs that will be fertilized. The innermost tubes have no sperm in the semen. The outermost tubes have the most sperm. One fuck. Twelve kids. Easy. High genetic diversity. Important in our case."
