Forever's Not Enough

Forever’s Not Enough Galactic League of Planets Roscoe James (c) 2008

Forever’s Not Enough Galactic League of Planets Roscoe James Published 2008 ISBN 978-1-59578-466-7 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2008, Roscoe James. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com Email: [email protected] Editor Georgia Woods Cover Artist April Martinez This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Chapter One He’d seen her several times on 3-D projections. But this was different. This was in person. The Ambassador from the oppressed Meline system was more humanoid than he’d expected, and finding her standing in nothing more than a champagne-colored body veil and soft fur speaking with the United News Service reporter was a little disconcerting. He’d been told she was Pyramese and her svelte build, small breasts, and slightly crossed eyes confirmed that. He understood immediately what his lieutenant had explained. You couldn’t look at them without wanting to pet, an insult they didn’t take lightly. Some assignments are hard, others just damned near impossible. “Ooooooohhhh, aaaand youuuuu muuuuust beeee myyyyy escoooooorrrt.” He jumped when he realized she was addressing him and stifled a smile when her hand covered her mouth as if she’d hiccupped. Each word came out in a purr and he recalled something else his lieutenant had told him, “Don’t get too close, son. Their purr is deadly. If their chest is actually touching yours, they can resonate it to your heartbeat and stop it cold!” He jerked his MR280 up as if the thing could block sound, found his voice, and answered, “Yes, Madame Ambassador, I am. Sergeant Hillsborough at your service, Ma’am.” “Well, Sergeant Hillsborough, you’ll do nicely,” she purred. He gulped. With her purr, it was hard to understand what she was saying. Her hand came up again and her light blue eyes were as big as saucers. When she continued to purr softly his eyes involuntarily dropped to her chest. This time he did chuckle. Her small breasts, the tips as white as the rest of her skin, looked completely innocuous. While inviting, he didn’t think they could kill. When she reached out to hug, the traditional Meline greeting, he almost blew it. A United News Service headline flashed—‘NO HUG THREATENS CORPORATION MELINE PEACE DEAL—and he relented. Her head nestled into his chest, her small breasts pressed into his hard stomach, and he felt it for the first time. It was overpowering. His jaw felt heavy, his shoulders sagged and he wanted to embrace her. He couldn’t believe it when his cock stirred. In a move of self-preservation his free hand came up and pushed her away. He regretted it immediately when her retreating form seemed to suck the strength out of him. Her purr deepened. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to,” she said, and he watched, spellbound, when the white skin of her cheeks flushed … chocolate brown? “Ah, that’s okay, ma’am.” Well, he hoped it was okay. His stomach still felt weird. Stepping away, her fingers graced his chin, the purring became louder, and she smiled, her slightly crossed eyes fixing him firmly. “I believe you are to see to my safety. Is that correct?” He was still having trouble understanding her words with the purr. She stepped away quickly and he immediately felt a wave of emptiness wash over

him. When Blake Crenshaw stepped into view, banishing the haze she’d left his mind in, he realized exactly how reckless he’d been. His job was to keep the ambassador safe and that included knowing who was getting close enough to do harm even if it was a corporation member. Less than five minutes and he’d already blown it. “Madame Ambassador.” Blake’s hand came out and he watched the Ambassador, countenance frosty, rest hers on top. “Mr. Crenshaw.” Hell you say. Where’d the purr go? Taking a step back, he was immediately on guard, as much against his fascination for the Madame Ambassador as any other danger in the bustling hallway. “You do us great honor.” Blake’s words dripped with an undercurrent of sarcasm and he recalled immediately why he thought the diplomatic corps was full of pantywaists. “Oh, but not as great as the United Corporation shows the Meline people,” she replied, her contempt palpable. He tuned it out and scanned the arriving area. Then his eyes were drawn back to the ambassador’s shimmering form. Was it her skin? Her coat? Fur? He was having trouble wrapping his head around what to call it other than beautiful. An odd mix of bare milky white skin and small ridges of fur that begged to be touched. A shimmer each time she moved spoke of gold powder delicately applied to the very tip of her fur. She was turned out in full diplomatic regalia. “As you know, Madame Ambassador, the director regrets he’s unable to receive you this afternoon. Especially given the urgent nature of the, ah, situation…” She was already so mad her body trembled when she interrupted, “With all due respect, Mr. Crenshaw, your director, and your people, have no idea just how serious the situation, as you call it, really is!” Her anger did something to him. Something he could neither define nor control, and without thinking, the MR280 came up to ready-one and his finger curled lightly around the trigger. He watched Blake raise his hand, palm flat in a sign of surrender, offering it to the ambassador and he had to stifle an urge to step between them. “But, Madame Ambassador, let’s not exaggera—” When she leaned close, her nostrils flaring, he felt a pull in his chest, and without thinking, he slid the MR280 along his chest to his side until the muzzle was pointing at Blake’s head. Realizing what he’d done, he jerked it back and tried to stifle his feelings. It came out in a guttural sound, almost a growl. “And I bet you still believe in… Wait, what do you call him?” Blake, mirroring her stance, face shoved close, was turning red. “Oh, yes, I recall now…” Her voice was lilting when she mocked, “Santa Claus! Yes, that’s it. Santa Claus, Mr. Crenshaw!” Who is this woman? Wait, he corrected, this Meline? Such fire and spirit. Afraid of nothing and no one. Suddenly frosty, Blake answered with, “Well, the director will be sorry to hear of our inadequacy, and if it pleases the Madame Ambassador, let me offer my apologies.” “What I’d really like, Mr. Crenshaw, is an immediate audience with the director, which I’m sure could be arranged if he really put his mind to it.”

He almost laughed out loud when Blake’s Adams apple bobbed with discomfort. Damn, this lady is my hero! “Well, I must apologize again, Madame Ambassador. That simply isn’t possible this evening. But I can assure you tomorrow’s meeting following a meeting of the board is firm.” It resolved into a less than polite stare down which Blake lost when he rushed to add, “And I hope this small disagreement doesn’t hinder your presence this evening at the Corporate dinner. I mean, it is in your honor.” Her response was frosty, “Why of course I’ll be there, Mr. Crenshaw. How on Meline could I dare not show up and risk the wrath of the mighty director and his board?” He watched Blake’s smarmy smile fade and smiled himself as the twerp receded in retreat. “Asshole,” he mumbled. And she was on the move. Such grace, he thought, and with a start he realized she had a tail. No, not a tail. A wide fall of platinum-colored hair that matched the mane on her head. It fell from the base of her spine and snapped around her ankles covering her…haunches? Her ass? He didn’t know, but the soft swishing with each step was mesmerizing. “Come along,” she purred. His mouth snapped shut and he fell in behind the Madame Ambassador from the Meline system and wanted to purr himself. He felt like some school kid following his favorite teacher, the one he had crushed on all school year, and decided his reaction was ridiculous. A steward pushing a cart of luggage fell in and he guessed they were going to the ambassador’s suit. He knew she was here to plead for the United Corporation’s help in turning away escalating aggressions on her home planet, small insurgents by Zandill Death Warriors. He also knew that the UC putting her off until tomorrow was a diplomatic slap in the face. As a fighting man, he knew exactly how urgent matters of war could be, and at some level, shared her rage. This time when her scent drifted back, he hoped no one was looking while he breathed deep and reveled in it. It was dry and almost dusty, sweet and musky, with something like a texture he thought he could touch instead of smell. Her fragrance was driving him crazy. When his cock stirred again and his palms started sweating, he let her get a few steps ahead hoping he could get control of himself. When she paused at the door to her suit and raised her hand to press on the imprint plate to open it, he stopped more than a respectful distance away and swallowed nervously. Her demure glance and a beautiful smile drew him, and he shifted nervously pressing back against the opposite wall of the corridor for protection from…what? He had no idea. The steward pushed past with her luggage and he deliberately stared at the man’s back to avoid looking at the Madame Ambassador. “I would like to speak with you if I may, sergeant.” He noticed her expression, disconcerted embarrassment, but her inviting smile held firm. He could feel her purr resonate at the base of his spine and crawl up to spread out across his back. It was really starting to piss him off.

He hadn’t wondered why he’d been given the assignment. He was a fuck up and he knew it. He not only knew it, he wore it like a badge and flaunted it in their faces every chance he got. And at twenty-eight, after ten years in the corps, diplomatic detail on a home station was about as far down as you could be knocked. Everyone knew they were in one of the safest places in the galaxy. The chairman’s flagship—UC-1—was the last place anyone would try and start something. His presence was just for show. The fact a protection detail wasn’t assigned and he was the ambassador’s only honor guard said even more. Another slap in the face to the Meline people. He’d made it to lieutenant and started his tumble after that little incident. Well, he still thought punching a Corporation Section Chief in the nose on Handrec was a small incident. Even Radd, his boot mate and lieutenant, still liked to laugh about it. And, he decided, he may be the platoon fuck-up, but he wasn’t stupid. Other world ambassadors didn’t speak with underlings like himself. They gave them orders, normally barked through interpreters. He really didn’t think, given the way his body reacted every time she got close, he should be speaking with the Madame Ambassador. He breathed a sigh of relief when she followed the steward through the door, leaving him to stare at a blank wall. When the steward came out, the ambassador appeared behind him and purred, “I said we must speak, if that’s possible.” He dry swallowed, cradled his assault rifle, and openly regarded her incredulously. She stared back, a faint smile on her lips, her powder blue irises closed in tight slits. “Well, ma’am, I’m not…” The smile disappeared and she snapped sans purr, “No, I’m sure you’re not!” What the hell did she mean by that? And what happened to the purr? “Look, Madame…” And she was gone, the door slid shut, and he was left to count the five red stars on the door that signified diplomatic housing. “What the fuck?” With a grunt he turned on his heel, and as only a true fuck-up could, fucked up again by abandoning his post in a huff. **** She was in a rage when her handmaiden came out of the cleaning room to find her pacing at the foot of the bed muttering in Meline. “How could he? I mean…” She looked at the poor confused handmaiden for confirmation. “I’m a princess, am I not?” There was no opportunity to answer. “I mean, it was only an invitation to speak! Who does this male, this human no less, think he is anyway?” “I’m sure I don’t know, Peenzan. What human would that be?” Stopping in the middle of the room, she raised her hand and pointed accusingly to some indiscernible point beyond the bedroom walls, “That… that… that…” “Should I find your mother, the queen?” “Arghhhhh! No! Yes!” When Pran pulled her communicator from a sleeve where her hands were hidden,

Peenzan ran and grabbed it from her, “No! No! I can’t call her. It can’t be true. It’s just some…some… It’s the trip! That’s it! The trip.” She started pacing again. “Yes, Pran, it’s the trouble at home and the long voyage to get here!” Pran crossed her arms on top of the billowy silk robe bearing the Meline royal crest she was wearing, cocked her head to one side, and dripping sarcasm said, “Oh yeah, I believe that.” When her mistress kept pacing she added, “Let’s see, the beam to get us here lasted all of two seconds. You must mean all that time I spent with the servants gathering your things together and preparing for the trip. You know, while you were out with Mazzatt dancing the blue moon into the ground.” Grabbing double hands full of silk royal robe, Peenzan, wild-eyed and agitated, practically groaned in pain screaming in Pran’s face, “But it can’t be! How in the name of Bast could this be? How, in all the wicked fates served up, could she do this to me?” Pran was becoming more than a little alarmed. What on Meline could the goddess Bast have done to her mistress? “But…” “How on Meline am I supposed to save our people if…if…” “What?” Pran watched her mistress, in a fit tear the sheer veil off her shoulders and try to throw the wispy material to the floor. Her hand came to her mouth when she saw the ridge of silky fur standing along her princess’s spine. “Call my mother! Now!” **** Yes, grinning at the snifter of blue liquid, nothing like off world booze to get a man, a human, he amended, high as a fucking kite. And this was his third. What the hell happened? He still couldn’t figure it out. It must be some kind of perfume. Yeah, that’s it. Some Meline something or other that puts humans in a state. He could still see the fire in her eyes, the flare of her nostrils, the swish of her… Shit, she has a tail! “So, off duty early I see.” He downed his snifter of blue liquid and shoved it toward the bartender. With a sideways glance at Radd, he grunted and went back to his thoughts. Yeah, you couldn’t see them without wanting to pet them. And he sorely wanted to pet this one. Damn! “Tough day at the office?” Picking up the snifter he pointed in the general direction of his lieutenant and ordered another. Looking around the dark lounge to make sure it was corps and diplomat free, he tried to invite Radd to join him. “U otta ave un.” He swayed dangerously, his finger poking at the air before finishing with a goofy grin, “L…ieutenant!” The lieutenant picked up his snifter, and with a sigh of resignation, tipped his sergeant’s glass in a toast. “U know, …ieutenant, u was right!” “How’s that, Hill?” “’ell,” he said as he nearly fell off his barstool. “You sure can’t ’ook at ’em without ’anting to, well, you know.” He leaned close and whispered conspiratorially, “You know,

ieutenant! Pet em! Yeah, that ambassador lady sure is one fine pussycat!” This time, when he started laughing, he did fall off his stool. **** He couldn’t figure out where he was at first. Then he got it and jumped up. His boots were soggy and his uniform soaking wet. “What the hell?” Then it hit him. It was like a Marjing mind worm drilling through the middle of his brain. He thought it would split his head like an egg any second. “So, sunshine, you back with us?” He wanted to speak, but every time he opened his mouth he had this overwhelming desire to spew his guts. “That’s okay, this too shall pass.” Shoving his head under the cold spray, he decided he seriously doubted the Lieutenant knew what the hell he was talking about. “I gave you a sober-up.” That explained that. How many damned drinks did I have? “Oh, and one more thing, Hill.” He looked out between his fingers. “The next time I have to drag your sorry ass back from a bar when you’re on duty, I’ll post you so far out in the Blue system you’ll be sleeping with a light bulb just to keep your gonads from freezing off!” When the lieutenant left, he started pulling his wet uniform off and scowled while he dumped a cup of water out of each of his boots. “Damn,” he muttered. “What’s that?” the Lieutenant yelled from his office. “Nothin’, Lieutenant.” “Stop mumblin’ and report to duty, sergeant!” “Fuck,” he mumbled. “What did you say?” “Nothin’, Lieutenant! Double time, Lieutenant! I’ll be right there, Lieutenant!” And to top it all off, he could still smell her! And his damned cock just wouldn’t settle! What the hell has this she-cat done to me? Grabbing a towel he wrapped it around his waist, letting the tuck hang in front to try and hide the state of his cock, and reported to the Lieutenant’s office. “Sorry, Lieutenant. I can explain, Lieutenant. I just…” When he ran out of steam, Radd prodded, “Well this ought’a be good. Great, explain away!” “Well, Lieutenant. I reported for duty. The detail, I mean, and well, then I, well… and then we… I mean the ambassador, well, then she wanted to… well…and she purred, well…” “Right,” Radd boomed shutting him up. “Look, Hill, I don’t want to know what happened.” Given the state of his stomach, Hill was sure he was going to spew right on top of Radd’s desk. “All I know is that the ambassador has requested your presence for tonight’s Company dinner.” That was the last thing he wanted, “But, Lieutenant…”

“Do I look like an asshole to you, Sergeant?” Damn, it had been a long time since he’d seen Radd so mad. “Ah, no,” he said then rushed to add, “Sir!” “Then don’t but me, Sergeant! Now, you got your orders. Report to the ambassador’s suit at 2100!” When he didn’t respond the Lieutenant bellowed, “I can’t hear you!” “Sir, yes sir!” His hand came up in a sharp salute and he spun on the balls of his bare feet to leave. He was contemplating the current climactic conditions in the Blue system when Radd barked, “Oh, and dress whites with full diplomatic sash!” His mouth fell open and he nearly stumbled headfirst into the doorframe making his exit. **** “This is ridiculous!” How could this be? It’s unheard of. It hasn’t happened for more than two millennium. How can you do this to me, Bast? Pran smiled wickedly. “Ah, but it is the queen’s order. You must.” Turning in a fit of rage she said, “She’s my mother! And I’m old enough to decide these things for myself! She told me so!” “Then why are you doing so much preening for a Corporation dinner you don’t even want to go to with a man, as in hu-man, you have spent the entire afternoon cursing Bast for sending to you?” She pulled the thin feather beneath her eye, and forgetting herself, smiled at the results. Just as quickly, she frowned and whined sarcastically, “Well, you’ve been a lot of help.” With a petulant smirk she watched Pran sulk and went back to fixing her face. She tried to remember. It had been over two thousand years ago. Somewhere in the family line. Or, more importantly, the royal line. It had been before the humans had even left their planet, much less their solar system. In some place they called Egypt. She couldn’t recall the whole story and made a note to ask her mother. When Pran poked her in the side, she jumped. “What was that for?” Pran smiled sheepishly. “You were purring.” “I was not!” “I heard you, Princess!” “You did not!” But she knew she had been. They stared at each other until they both burst into giggles. Bending back to the mirror, Peenzan admitted, “I was, wasn’t I?” Her hand came up to her mouth and she nearly shouted, “I did it today, too!” “In public! No!” “I couldn’t help it. As soon as I got near him, it just happened.” “Oh my Bast! Did anyone hear you?” Her face was blank for a beat then she burst into more giggling. “He did!” Pran grabbed her arm, “No! He can’t have!” She felt a blush, “And I leaned into him and…” “No! In public? What did he do?”

Turning back to the mirror, she whispered, “I think I scared him to death.” “Are you going to tell him?” She didn’t answer and cursed when she realized she was purring again. And why now, she wondered, dusting her face with flecks of gold. And why couldn’t it have been Mazzatt? She felt unsettled when his name, one that had always sent a rush through her, no longer had a magic sound to it. Mazzatt. She whispered it out loud, “Mazzatt,” and felt sorry for him. They’d all been so sure. Even her mother. It was just a matter of time, she’d said. It will happen soon. Well, she said to herself wickedly, guess what Mom, it happened. When she stepped from the cleaning room, she found a full-length gown of translucent mijon silk from the Blue system with gold edging lying on her bed. Pran carried gold slippers with heels high enough to give her a nosebleed in one hand and the Meline state sash in the other. “Oh, I hate that thing,” she said pointing at the sash. “I don’t see why I have to wear it.” “Try to keep in mind that this is a state dinner with the United Corporation and you are here to save our people, my princess.” She sulked some more fingering the luscious edge of the gown. When they both heard a light rap on the door, she jumped and Pran ran to her side and whispered, “And not some first date with Mr. Right.” “What?” Pran ran back and whispered, “It’s your second!” When Pran ran out giggling, Peenzan scowled, and smiling the whole time, started dressing. **** Aside from feeling stupid, he felt more than a little trepidation as he stood staring at the five red stars on her suite door. What the hell is wrong with me? His palms felt wet in his white dress gloves and he had his dress saber pulled so far to the front of his black slacks to hide his half hard cock he was almost out of regulation. At 6’8” and two hundred sixty pounds, he was nothing more and nothing less than a finely tuned fighting machine trained to stare down the deadliest of threats no matter what solar system or planet they came from. Well, that and the platoon fuck-up. Too many brains and way too much brawn, one captain had commented the last time he’d fucked up. It’s one of the reasons Diplomatic duty was such an insult to him. Running around in red silk sashes and sabers, tipping fine crystal with the pantywaists that ran the Corporation, was not what he’d had in mind when he’d signed on to the deadliest fighting force in the galaxy. He cursed himself again as he stood, his thighs quivering beneath his slacks, waiting for someone to open the damn door. Just as he raised his knuckles a second time it slid open. “Good evening. I’m Sergeant Hillsborough, here for the Madame Ambassador.” When the young woman stood, mouth open, and said nothing, he added, “I believe

I’m expected.” She said something and he had no idea what it was. Must be her native tongue. You would think an Ambassador would have multilingual help. But given her step to the side and sweeping hand, he decided it was an invitation and strode into the main reception room of the huge suite. When, eyes as big as saucers, she spoke a second time in the same strange language and disappeared down a hallway still muttering, he pulled on his starched collar and fell into parade rest staring at a lavish painting of a Meline female that looked surprisingly like the Madame Ambassador. **** “Oh my Bast! I forgot to speak his language! Twice!” Peenzan inspected her nails and smiled wistfully. “You can’t!” Pran exclaimed. “What on Meline are you talking about, Pran?” Turning she pointed at her back and Pran lifted the two wide falls of cloth from her side and, pulling them behind her princess, tied them into a six sided knot that represented the hallan flower on their home planet. Snapping a big shimmering gold button in place, she was through. Fluffing the long strands out over Peenzan’s back-fall that still showed beneath her gown representing the stem of the flower, Pran explained excitedly, “He’ll crush you! He’s huge! He’s a walking wall!” She flushed at the thought and fanned her neck with her open palm. Yes, he is huge isn’t he? “Don’t be silly, Pran.” “I mean it, Princess; we must call your mother at once!” Standing in front of the tall mirror she inspected the front of her dress noting the small line of soft champagne colored fur that ran delicately between her breasts in a ridge to stop at the small of her neck. Turning to her side she inspected Pran’s work and smiled with satisfaction. When she looked up, she jumped to grab the communicator from Pran and threw it on the bed, “What are you doing?” “I swear, Princess, it isn’t physically possible! We must stop this right now! He will kill you!” She fixed her handmaiden with a benevolent smile and said, “Well, Pran, if that is how I am to die, if that is Bast’s will, then so be it.” She’d started purring again. “Forgive me, Princess, but you are completely mad.” “I know,” she replied, her inflection gentle, a soft purring lilt, “Mad in love. Now please, Pran, bring me the sash and send me out to meet my executioner.” Pran swatted her princess on the shoulder, “And stop purring!” She brought her hand to her chest and blushed. “Stark raving mad,” Pran repeated. ****

Crenshaw sat waiting for the chairman to speak first. He watched impassively as another leather bound document was signed, sealed, and carried away by the chairman’s assistant. “So Blake, is everything in place?” “Yes it is, Mr. Chairman.” “And how will it happen?” the chairman inquired, and then picked up a cup of coffee before adding, “Or do I want to know?” It was a task like any other. One of hundreds he’d performed for the current board of directors. There’d been a proposition, a vote, and a resolution. And he was the go to man who would make sure the resolution was carried out. He had no idea why the Meline had been earmarked for eradication, and frankly, he didn’t care. His only concern was how to make it happen. “Well, Mr. Chairman, without going into all the details, I’ll give you the high points. You may recall Lieutenant Hillsborough.” “Right. Some incident. Wasn’t he demoted?” “Yes, he was. It’s now Sergeant Hillsborough. Well, he’s been assigned as the ambassador’s personal protector while on the station. That should give us credible deniability when the time comes. We’ll just blame it all on him.” “That’s too bad. I knew his father. Good man.” “Well, it’s a small sacrifice for the good of the Corporation. Or so I thought.” He watched the chairman take another sip of coffee and run his finger through the small silver plate of Rangdon spice, an officially illegal substance that, as always happened, meant it was actually reserved for the rich and powerful. “Right you are, Blake,” the Chairman said smacking his lips, his eyes going blank for a beat. “And I’ve arranged things for this evening at the Corporate dinner.” “Very good, Blake. At least I won’t have to listen to her caterwauling tomorrow.” Blake watched the chairman’s finger return for a second dip and wanted to leave. How on earth, or anyplace else in the galaxy, could such a disgusting man rise to such a great place of power? Pushing up from his chair he asked, “I assume you don’t really want to know exactly how it will happen.” The Chairman’s face was a blank, his eyes vacant, his finger still stuck in his mouth where he sucked like a babe in mother’s arms. When no answer came, Crenshaw retreated quietly from the chairman’s office and pulled the door closed with a soft click. Turning to the chairman’s assistant, he said, “He asked not to be disturbed for at least an hour.” **** No matter how much resolve he’d mustered standing in the middle of the room staring at the painting, no matter how many times he’d reminded himself of his calling and the fact many men and other beings had died in his bare hands, his knees almost gave way when she swept into the room purring. “I’m so sorry, sergeant.” He didn’t think to smile until the same young woman who had greeted him at the door stepped close to Madame Ambassador and whispered something in her ear.

He almost laughed at the reaction the whispered words brought when Madame Ambassador balled her fist, hit her chest, and coughed. He knew the protocol, but oddly, it wasn’t needed as the compliment rolled off his tongue, “Madame Ambassador, you are lovely this evening.” “Iiiiiiiiii…” And he watched the fist come up again and listened to another cough. His concern was real when he asked, “Are you all right? Did a doctor come with you? Should I call one for you?” She blushed. His knees trembled. She smiled. He cursed himself. “Noooo…” One last cough and she finally said something without a purr. “Thank you for your concern, Sergeant. How nice of you. I think it may be the air. I keep getting something caught in my chest, ah, throat. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She was a vision. Her body shimmered softly beneath her white gown and her pale blue eyes smiled. Noting how hard his heart was pounding he cleared his own throat, stepped forward, and raised his arm, saying, “Yes, you may be right. My chest has felt funny all day.” As they left he noticed the young woman had started giggling and wondered if there was a rip in the back of his trousers somewhere. **** She tried it again. Yes, the purring subsided. Swallowing definitely seemed to help. Why didn’t her mother explain these things to her? His arm is so big. It feels like a tree. Her thoughts immediately went to another part of his anatomy and she squelched another purring fit. Oh my, what if he really does kill me? As he escorted her down the long hall, she breathed deep and let her purr rattle a little. His arm feels like iron. And his eyes. Killer’s eyes but oddly, every time he looks at me they soften and almost smile. Swallowing again she tried speaking. “I…well, Sergeant, I…” She cursed herself for not finding something, anything, to say. “Yes, Madame Ambassador?” His voice. So deep and strong. Firm and commanding. She swallowed again. “I was wondering what part of earth you’re from?” she asked and chanced a sideways glance. Oh my, and his smile. His chin is so strong, almost jutting. And his skin is so smooth. She smiled when she realized she had an urge to pet him. “Well, ma’am, my people actually come from the Leedon district on the moon. I do have family back on earth though. An aunt and uncle.” “Oh, your moon. How lovely.” She was babbling but couldn’t stop. “And what color is your moon, Sergeant?” Her chest rattled uncontrollably when he laughed. “Well, mostly it’s just gray and several shades of darker gray. It’s just volcanic dust and rock, ma’am. But I did see it from earth once. On a trip. It looked red then.” Yes, she thought, appropriate. The color of a warrior. It’s not the earth’s moon, it’s

his moon. “Oh, Sergeant, you must stop calling me ma’am. Why, I’m barely 68. My mother, the queen, would be ma’am.” “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that ma’am.” When she realized he didn’t even know he was saying it she laughed and a purr slipped out like a rude burp and she covered her mouth. When she glanced at him, he only smiled and looked straight ahead. “This is the entrance, ma’am. I believe you’re supposed to enter alone as the representative of your world.” She clutched his arm and hesitated. His voice was soft and gentle, not at all what one might expect from such a big being. And she didn’t want to let go. It felt so good. She felt so good. And safe. Then another voice invaded, one she’d just as soon forget. “That’s alright, Sergeant, I believe that as the senior diplomatic officer present, the Madame Ambassador would enter on my arm. You will enter through that door over there.” She watched Mr. Crenshaw raise his hand and point. “And you will find your place and be seated.” She felt dizzy as the tree she’d been clinging to disappeared and was replaced by a mere branch. Looking around quickly, she managed to catch his eye and smile. She felt her purring start again when he smiled back crookedly. Swallowing hard she looked ahead and stepped into the room on Crenshaw’s arm. A small fanfare from an orchestra at the front of the room, talking stopped, and she was announced by an odd looking man with a long gold staff that he beat repeatedly against the floor. “The Madame Ambassador Princess Peenzan Fanston of the planet Meline!” As Crenshaw dragged her to the center of the room, she searched the crowd on her right for her tree. She finally found him walking along the wall, his head well above everyone else’s, and she felt her chest flutter when she saw him smile yet again. More swallowing and she looked at the crowd of onlookers. Crenshaw abandoned her in the center of the room under a spotlight, and she thought, slithered away. Clearing her throat a last time she found the sergeant at the back of the room, smiled and he smiled back, and began her formal greeting to the people of earth. **** He wanted someone to punch him in the nose and wake him up. He was sure this was a bad dream and all he had to do was wake up, take a cold shower, and it would all go away. Of course, he thought, I’ve already done that and it didn’t work. It has to be something she uses on her body and he made a mental note to check with germ warfare in RandD the next day and see what they could tell him about the Meline. Her gentle fragrance still persisted as, never taking his eyes off her, he found her place card and took up station behind her chair. Like a guilty child he visibly cringed when he recalled his real duty and quickly scanned the crowd, the waiters, and the perimeter of the room for any visible threat to Madame Ambassador. No. Peenzan. And he whispered it, “Peenzan.” He huffed when he realized his mind had locked up again. The light made her dress translucent and he cursed his cock as his scan of the room

was interrupted once more while he stared, captivated, by her shimmering presence in the center of the room. Her legs were beautiful, and he noted with a man’s eye, very, very long. Her shoulders were as broad as her hips and her oval face intelligent and noble. Little wisps of champagne colored fur outlined her cheeks and faded into sideburns that disappeared into platinum hair that was pulled up tightly on top of her head where it fell down her back in silky ringlets. A true vision of beauty. When he caught himself reaching for her, he pulled his hand back to his side and looked quickly at the people standing around him to see if he’d been caught. Dammit all to hell! What has she done to me? The crowded room burst into applause and he tugged at the collar of his dress shirt once more. What the hell happened to the air conditioning in this place? It’s hot as hell in here. And there she was. Smiling. His chest puffed when he realized her eyes were searching for him. And then Crenshaw appeared at her side, and he had a sudden urge to pull his dress saber from its sheath and see how sharp it was. Pulling her chair away from the ornately set table, he smiled and bowed slightly as Madame Ambassador sat, her shoulder brushing his fingers as he pushed forward. “Thank you, Sergeant. How thoughtful.” He was getting used to the purr and actually kind of liked it. Sitting on her right he pulled the linen napkin into his lap and cursed himself again when he saw his hand shake. “So, Madame Ambassador, I hope your stay has been pleasant.” Crenshaw managed to make even small talk sound like a sarcastic barb. He caught a flash of anger in the ambassador’s eyes before she looked away to answer. Something’s wrong. He was sure of it. And not just between Madame Ambassador and Crenshaw. It was him. His hands shook, his knees trembled like an old woman’s, he felt flushed, and he was sure his brow was sweating. As much as the thought bothered him, what bothered him even more, he was going to have to leave and report to the infirmary. Resolve set in, and pushing on his knees to stand, he leaned toward the Ambassador, a mistake in itself, and whispered, “I must apologize, Madame Ambassador, but I’m not feeling quite myself. I think I should go find a doctor.” It was overwhelming and he thought he’d pass out. The warm musky smell behind her ear nearly did him in. Her smile and concern were both genuine, at least he thought it was, when she disengaged Crenshaw and turned on him to whisper urgently, “Please, Sergeant. I think I can explain if you’ll just sit back down. I just have to make an appearance and then we can go someplace…quieter to talk about it.” Her hand fell gently, soothingly, on his and it wasn’t a question of willingness. It was a question of not breaking the finely carved piece of wooden furniture when he fell back with a grunt into his chair. He felt dizzy and tried to clear the cobwebs while, her hand still resting on his, she turned back to Crenshaw and continued to speak. The chatter in the room had grown to

an annoying roar and he noted something green had been put into his soup dish. He was unable to follow the conversation and had no idea why. He could only discern that Madame Ambassador was not only angry, she was pissed as hell. Music began, and he slumped back into his chair and tried to stop the spinning. The word poison floated to the top of what little consciousness he still clung to and he struggled to sit up straight. Her face appeared in the haze the room had become and he heard, “Be still, my darling. I will make it well soon.” My darling? She will make it well? A part of him struggled to gain his freedom from the small delicate hand that, still resting on his, seemed to have pinned him to his chair. Another part smiled and felt comforted. His last coherent thought was “Death by she-cat,” and he engaged in a very juvenile and unmanly activity. He tried to stop it. The struggle became the center of his universe, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop giggling. **** “Praaaannnnnnn!” What am I to do with you? She looked at her tree propped in the doorway of her suite, his black dress uniform askew, a crooked grin on his face, and his cock raging in his slacks. Oh, my Bast! “Praaaaaaaannnnnnn!” She couldn’t help it. There was no way to stop the purring and it was entirely too pleasant to worry about anyway. “Princess!” “You have to help me. Be quick. We must get him inside before Crenshaw discovers I’ve left the dinner.” “But what have you done, Peenzan? What are we to…” Pran stopped and stared. “Yes,” she purred contentedly, “Isn’t it amazing?” The entire time Pran pulled and prodded the giant she protested, “But, Princess, it will kill you! It isn’t physically possible!” She swallowed several times and shot back, “Nonsense, Pran. We’re all made the same. I’m not made any different.” Then she rethought that. “Well, much different from the women of his own planet.” They both watched the sergeant stagger along mumbling. She pulled on his big hand while Pran went back to close and lock the suite door. “Oh.” His eyes brightened, and he smiled at her and said, “There you are.” “Yes, my darling. I’m right here. But you must follow me. You must keep walking. Please, my love.” And she kept tugging his big hand. When his other hand came up to trap her, she ducked and giggled, “Praaaaaannnnn!” “You must stop purring! It only makes it worse!” She swallowed and managed, “I know. You’re right. Let me go prepare and you bring him to me.” ****

The spin his world was in slowly came to a stop and he was staring at a crystal chandelier. He scowled when he realized how the colors had captivated him. Then he found a new word for how he felt and blushed. Goofy. He felt goofy. Like being drunk, but better. He brought his fingers to his temple expecting it to start throbbing any second. Did I get drunk? Again? Where am I? Rolling to his side he discovered a bed beneath him. Then, with a shock, he discovered he was completely naked. Slapping his cheek he tried to wake from the dream. “Darling, it will be better soon.” He smiled at her soft purring words. Better. Yes. Better is good. His head jerked and there she was. Still in the gown she’d worn to the dinner, leaning over him, a look of concern on her face. He shoved her away roughly and swung his feet over the edge of the mattress, “What the hell am I doing here?” His face tightened into hard scrutiny and he demanded, “And what have you done to me?” She’d retreated to a corner and regarded him with a soft smile. When she didn’t answer he pushed up and stepped away from the bed, and immediately regretted it. The room became hazy and his head started to spin. Again. Hands, her hands, were on him, guiding him back to the bed. “I’m sorry, darling. I know it’s all confusing, and in some way unfair, but you really have to trust me when I say your world will be right again.” As a warrior he made a mental inventory. Nothing hurt or seemed to be broken. He caught a flash of silver in the corner of his vision and discovered a letter opener he could use as a weapon. His legs and arms seemed to work. Well, sort of. “Right,” he huffed. “Then explain what I’m doing on a bed naked with you hovering over me?” “I…” “Will you stop that blasted… I don’t know what it is, but will you stop talking like that?” He didn’t really want her to stop, but he felt better having made some kind of demand. He watched her swallow and heard her say in a normal voice, “I’m sorry, my darling…” “And why do you keep calling me your darling?” She swallowed again, “Yes, I guess it is all confusing and you may not understand at first…” And he tuned her out completely. He realized what he was doing when he did it. But he’d discovered something much more urgent. My God she’s beautiful. Her ears seemed flushed, or something. They looked almost a chocolate brown color. And the tip of her nose. How odd, and he decided, how delightful. His cock was so hard it hurt and every time he pondered the state of his cock his gaze was drawn to her. Her cheeks were flushed as well. A light champagne color. He had an overpowering urge to inspect the rest of her body and see if it was changing colors as well. When he caught her tongue flicking between her lips he was possessed by the desire to have her. Then he realized she was still talking. What had she said?

“…so, I’ve looked for a word for it and I may have found one. I’m not sure if it’s the right one or not, but unfortunately my love, you’re in heat.” Pushing up from the bed he lunged just as he realized what she’d said. In heat? He froze, his hands on her shoulders, and croaked, “Like a dog?” “Well, I guess you could say that.” He didn’t know what she was talking about and didn’t care. In one sweep he shoved her gown off her shoulders, lifted her in his arms and pulled her to his chest, his mouth finding hers, their tongues tangling, his heart pounding like a bass drum. She was light, and seemed to float on the tips of his fingers and his lips. Her small sigh accented the soft vibration he felt against his chest. Taking a step he threw her on the bed and grabbed her gown where it was tangled around her feet and ripped it free, letting it float over his shoulder. Her lips parted and she started to pant, her small breasts heaving, and he noted her nipples blushing a chocolate brown that matched her ears. Falling on the bed at her feet he kissed a toe. He couldn’t explain why, it was nothing that had ever come into his head before, but he started licking the inside of her ankle and she squeaked. Touching her leg he discovered a small covering of fur like peach fuzz but much softer on the back of her calf and he smiled as he ran his tongue through it. Kissing the inside of her knee, he found pale bare skin and sucked gently before moving further up. “My love,” she mewed. Then he discovered it. The source of her fragrance. The inside of her thigh was sweet with it. He ran his tongue up and down trying to capture it, to possess it, to have it all, and he heard her moan. His hands pushed roughly and her legs fell akimbo around his shoulders. Something told him there was more and he searched for it with his tongue. When he found her weeping slit he inhaled deeply and thought his heart would explode. Exploring further with his tongue, he found the same silky peach fuzz he’d found on the back of her calf covering her small swollen lips. His nose bumped when his rough tongue drew up and came away covered in her dewy musk. Just as the winds of a torment reveal a calm spot in their center, he suddenly felt at ease. He marveled at the wash of tranquility and satisfaction that came over him. He could find no words for it other than coming home. Licking again, he smiled as one quest ended and a second began. He had no other thought other than satisfying his enchantress as he dug in her sopping folds until he found her swollen nub where he sucked and played while her legs jerked and writhed around his shoulders. “Yes,” he whispered reverently and lifted his mouth so he could see the source of his delight. He was amazed to find her heavy lips and the skin around them flushing the same chocolate color as her ears and the tip of her nose. With no idea why, he smiled smugly and nuzzled, his nose pushing, his tongue digging. “Yes,” she purred and he felt her fingers in his short-cropped hair pulling desperately. Following a ridge of short silky fuzz, he kissed to her navel and found it bare. His

hands found her hips and he pressed his shoulders between her thighs, spreading her more. “Please,” she purred, pleading, pulling harder, and he smiled lasciviously, ignoring her pleas, picked up the trail again above her navel and followed it up her stomach. Then he could feel it. It evoked feelings of warmth, joy, and happiness, and made his heart pound even harder. At the bottom of her breastbone he felt her skin and muscles vibrate in a soothing purr that deepened to a rattle when he licked a chocolate tipped nipple that exploded in a hot swell between his lips. She was whimpering and pulling, her small hands on his shoulders, and when he looked up from the breast he was suckling, he saw tears on her cheeks, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her expression more than her guttural mew evoked him to act, and his big hands planted on each side of her shoulders, he scooted up, arched his back, and probed with his hard cock. Her hands came up and he felt her fingers lace behind his neck just as the head of his cock found home. His muscles bulged, his chest and stomach tight as he held himself up and teased with the head of his cock, letting it slide in and pop out. “Please,” she pleaded again and he heard her purr deepen even more. An inch and she grunted. Another, and she pulled her legs up and found his back. With the third she pulled herself up and clung to his body, her small breasts and chest pressed into his, and he could stand it no more. With a groan he fell, trapping her beneath him, and finding a leg and pulling it up, he buried all fourteen inches of his cock, then watched her eyes roll up in her head and her lids drop. Her hands had moved and she was tearing at his shoulders, her nails digging, and her mouth searching his face for his lips. Then he moved, and his cock slid out and back in. Her lips were on his and she moaned around his tongue as he started his cock moving again. Her hands found his face and pushed it away, her mouth locked in that same silent scream and he pushed in again finding his stride. He watched her lips darken and heard her breathing stop, with it, her purring. When his cock sought her silky embrace, she exploded beneath him in a fit of tears and sobs, her hips pushed hard against his, his cock buried and her purring the only thing he could hear. She was limp as a rag when he pushed against her feet and, driven by nothing but lust and desire, drove for release. Her purring resonated against his chest and he could feel it from the top of his head to the tip of his toes and all the way to the end of his cock. His eyes closed when he felt the burn start and the pull on his loins. When her lips found his, he fell on her chest and her purr consumed him, as his body jerking, his strength draining quickly, he filled her with his seed. She held his head and kissed every inch of it, all the time sobbing, “My love, my darling. Yes, my love. I’m yours, my love. Forever, my love.” Somewhere in the nebula they fell into he recalled Radd’s words about killer purrs and smiled, pulling her hard against his chest and whispered, “Forever’s not enough…”

Chapter Two She heard the door slide open and saw the light in the room come up slightly. She was still purring, curled beneath his chest when she heard the first loud smack. “What done you with her, brute!” Another loud smack and her mate stirred. “You kill my princess and body gone!” When the next smack fell, her sleepy-eyed giant raised a heavy arm and reached behind him. With a jerk, a belt and a protesting Pran appeared as she tumbled onto the bed with them. Seeing he’d fallen back to sleep she whispered in Meline, “I’m here, Pran,” and peeked around his wide shoulders. “Princess!” she hissed, “Are you all right? How bad did he hurt you? Oh my, Peenzan, I could hear it. I could hear the brute. It must have been terrible.” But her wideeyed amazement was in sharp contrast to her words of concern. With a soft breath on his nose and a gentle shove with a single finger against his chest, her sleeping giant rolled onto his back, his thick cock curling on his thigh, and she slid off the bed and grabbed Pran’s wrist, pulling her into the cleaning room, her back-fall swishing after her. “My Bast, Pran, it was wonderful! It was more than I had ever expected!” “But,” and she smiled when Pran snuck back to the door, gazed on the human’s sleeping form, and returned, her eyes the size of the Queen moon on Meline, “He’s huge! How on earth did you, well, I mean, surely you didn’t!” “Don’t be silly. Of course we did.” And she sounded as smug as she felt. “Oh, you must tell me everything.” “I will tell you nothing,” she teased, “And you will find the queen. I must speak with her.” **** When he opened his eyes, the same chandelier was looking down on him. Dragging his arm through a tangle of sheets, he looked around and saw he was still naked. “What a dream.” He shook his head, rolling to the edge of the mattress. He recalled something about standing up and getting dizzy, and decided to take it slow. Looking around the room, he muttered, “What the fu…” “You’re up, my love. How wonderful.” He stared, inspecting Madame Ambassador from naked head to naked toe, before saying, “Aren’t you the…” “Yes, darling, I am.” Looking around he thought of another question, “Is this your bedr…” “Yes, my love, it is.” When he rubbed his hand across his face, it made a dry sandpaper sound and his eyes went back to Madame Ambassador, “Did we…?” When she stepped close, he could smell it. Without asking, he knew what it was. It

was them. When she lifted her back-fall to sit on his thigh, he stared. When she leaned into his chest and purred softly he remembered. When a young woman, the same young woman he’d met the night before, barged in, he stood with a jerk, and without realizing it, grabbed Madame Ambassador around the waist and saved her from tumbling to the floor. “I have the queen.” Something with a soft glow appeared in her palm. He didn’t understand a word. “Wait, who are you?” he demanded. The young woman’s eyes moved from his to Madame Ambassador’s to his cock and then the floor before she stuttered in English, “I, I sorry, you highness, I be handmaiden to the princess.” With the word princess he released the death grip he had on Madame Ambassador’s waist letting her slide down his body to the floor and demanded, “Where are my clothes?” When no one spoke he stomped around the bed and found them folded over the arm of a chair. Picking up his black thermal space briefs, standard issue for the corps, he stepped into them and pulled them up quickly, “I don’t know what the hell you did to me last night. Actually,” he muttered as he grabbed his shirt and fisted his way into the sleeves, “I don’t think I want to know.” The two women just stared as he grabbed his slacks, “All I want to do is get out of this loony bin and report to duty.” Afraid to sit down, he shoved his first foot into his pants leg and nearly fell over when a very familiar looking foot came into view. “If you’ll just let me explain,” she began, her voice gentle and soothing, and he almost stopped what he was doing. “I’m sure you’ll feel better after I tell you everything.” Finally getting his other foot in his slacks he jerked them up, zipped them up, buttoned them up, and grabbed his jacket and saber. “Look, Madame Ambassador, I’m glad to be of service. And…” He smiled wickedly. “I hope you enjoyed it. But I could get in a lot of trouble, and frankly, I have no idea what you drugged me with yesterday, but I plan on finding out!” He felt like shit when Madame Ambassador started crying and he almost relented. When he caught the defiant stare of the handmaiden, he ground his teeth and stomped out of the bedroom. Before he could get to the outer door he felt something bump into his back and turned to find the handmaiden rubbing her fist, also on the verge of tears. Serves you right, he thought. He just grunted and turned to leave. “I told her! I knew it wasn’t right! You, you…” And she yelled the nastiest insult she could think of at his back, “Human!” He didn’t understand a word of it. When is that girl going to learn English? Shaking his head he hit the release on the door and smiled when he saw Radd standing in the hallway. “Boy, you aren’t going to believe this one, Lieutenant,” he said laughing. As soon as he cleared the doorway and stepped off of sovereign Meline territory four men were on him, his saber and jacket disappeared, and in spite of his struggle, he was in

cuffs. “Neither are you,” said Radd, nodding at the posse that had trapped him. **** “I can’t believe this. I mean, I thought I wasn’t going to have this meeting! What the hell happened, Blake?” Yeah, he couldn’t believe it either. He had no idea how Hillsborough and the princess left without him knowing, but it seemed they did. He knew it was bad when he wasn’t invited to sit. Clearing his throat he addressed the chairman, “We don’t know, sir.” “Well,” said the chairman, his finger coming up accusingly exposing the green tinge it had from dipping spice, “You had better find out, mister! And I mean now!” “I’m working on it, sir,” Blake replied as he spun on his heel to leave. “One other thing, Blake.” “Yes, sir?” “I understand Hillsborough wasn’t hurt, either.” “Ah, yes, sir, we have him in custody right now. In fact, we’re setting him up for the fall.” “Well, I knew his father, you know.” Is it age or the spice? “Yes sir, I knew that.” “Good man, his father.” “Yes, sir, I believe you mentioned that.” “I did?” Blake cringed when the green tinged finger ran through the chairman’s ever-present spice tray and went to his mouth. “Maybe not, sir. I could be wrong. But I’ve seen the man’s file and would agree with you.” The chairman smacked his lips and slipped away for a beat. Blake rocked on his heels and waited. “Anyway, maybe the Hillsborough boy needs to attempt to escape or something. You know…we wouldn’t want him talking to the press or anything like that.” “Right, sir. I’ll see to it.” “I mean he doesn’t have to get very far. Just, well, you know…make a try.” Yes, he knew exactly what the chairman was talking about. **** He tried to stop it. He caught himself panting again. That made three times. It didn’t matter what kind of trouble he was in, the only thing he could think about was her. He couldn’t get her out of his head. He’d experienced an odd sense of calm in her suite, especially on her bed, and it had stayed with him for the first two hours of his lockup. He’d even smiled every time he’d breathed in her fragrance that still clung to him. The change had been gradual. From an unidentified discomfort and restlessness to a full-blown craving, it wasn’t about sex, although his cock had become uncomfortably swollen again. It was about being near her, touching her, knowing she was safe.

His hands were still cuffed behind his back, he sorely wanted to piss, and he needed some water. He had a vague memory of finding peace last night and now his world was a mess. Looking out, he watched the guard’s D projection screen and the 3-D images were, as always, startling. The ballroom was full of people, the dance floor was a sea of floating colors, while the band played a Meline waltz in honor of the Ambassador. Then the announcer’s voice cut in, “This is just seconds before the blast. We understand one man is in custody, and in fact is the ambassador’s own diplomatic security attaché. Yes, this is it. Just watch the scene behind the people on the dance floor where, only minutes before, the Meline ambassador had been chatting with diplomatic attaché, Blake Crenshaw.’ And he did. And just as had happened every other time it had run on UNS, there was a puff of gray smoke, a blinding light, and a small explosion followed by complete chaos. Leaning into the bars he got the guard’s attention and said, “Hey, I need some water and I gotta piss. Take these fucking cuffs off!” The guy didn’t even turn around. He just mumbled, “Orders, asshole. Now shut up so I can listen to this.” We have little news other than the ambassador, who in fact is the Meline princess, daughter of Queen Fanston, is safe and still plans on attending a previously scheduled meeting with the UC Chairman later today. Again, five people dead and two listed in critical condition… He groaned, tuned it out, and pushed away from the bars. Where is she? This isn’t right. He knew it. What took place at the ballroom was still hazy, but he knew he couldn’t have left under his own power. She must have gone with him. She must have helped. And why couldn’t he just forget about her and worry about himself? Her smell was driving him mad with concern. “How you doin’, buddy?” “Radd, damn, I’m glad you came back. What the hell is going on, man? This is nuts!” Radd laughed in sympathy and held the key to the cuffs up. “I hear you need to piss.” “Hell yes,” he replied as he backed into the bars. Radd was fumbling and he groaned with impatience. Then he heard it. Barely a whisper. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. They found a bunch of anti-Meline shit in your quarters. They’re saying you’re working for the Zandill. A spy or something. Now listen closely,” and the key dropped from Radd’s fingers and clanged on the bars. A spy? Anti-Meline? He knew Radd was buying time and waited patiently while the key was retrieved. The whispering continued, “They want you to try and escape so they can kill you. And if that doesn’t work, believe me buddy, they’ll find another way. So you have to escape before they get it all set up.” With that the cuffs came loose and something was shoved into his palm. Voice booming, Radd yelled, “You’re a fucking wimp, Hillsborough. A disgrace to the Corps. Now get your sorry ass over there and piss and…” Radd winked over his shoulder at the guard. “…stop whining, you sissy.”

It was heaven. He watched Radd stop at the guard’s desk and talk while he relieved himself. Looking down he saw a key in his palm. “What about some water, Lieutenant?” Radd looked over his shoulder and yelled, “You’re a pussy, Hillsborough!” Then he addressed the guard. “Get this crybaby some water, private.” He watched as Radd sauntered out before the private pushed up from his table. As soon as the guard disappeared, he slipped the key in the lock, slipped out, and hid in a small closet beside the guards’ table. **** “But you must try to understand, Princess. Our hands are tied in this matter.” Peenzan sat completely still with no show of emotion whatsoever, as was the Meline way. Then, after letting the chairman’s last statement settle like a foul stench she spoke, “Then you, Mr. Chairman, and the peoples of the United Corporation, must also understand that upon my return to my home planet, I will deliver your answer to the Queen, and given the Zandill’s continued aggressions and our overburdened manufacturing base, we will find it necessary to divert all our efforts toward defending our own people and will no longer be able to fulfill our contract to deliver helium 3…” “But we have a contract!” “Please, Mr. Chairman, if I may finish?” She watched the chairman shift uncomfortably in his chair and wondered again if the man was ill. She must remember to report that to her mother. “As I was saying, we will no longer be able to fulfill our contract to deliver helium 3 and all transports in space will be recalled immediately to help fight our war. We greatly regret this inconvenience, but I’m sure the United Corporation’s people will understand the urgency of our situation…” She paused for effect. “And in fact our need to survive, and will forgive us this most regrettable but unavoidable transgression.” The chairman’s black eyes were shooting daggers as she smiled and went on, “And we want to assure the United Corporation and its peoples that as soon as the Zandill situation has been taken care of, we will be glad to sit down and negotiate a new contract.” “This is outrageous! We already have a contract! What about it?” “While most unfortunate for you, it is quite fortunate for us that the contract was signed on Meline soil, and as with all off planet contracts, becomes void the moment we deem it necessary to declare war on any off planet aggressor. I’m sure you understand our position.” She smiled blithely before her face became as unreadable as the Chairman’s desktop. The chairman shot to his feet and leaned across the desk. “Then you can tell…” “I’m sorry, Mr. Chairman. I have one more item. It’s a quick one. I understand you have a Sergeant Hillsborough in custody in connection with that horrendous event last night at the Corporate dinner given in my honor.” Caught off guard, the chairman looked at Blake who provided the answer. “Why yes, Princess, we do. You are most lucky. We’ve discovered he was a spy for the Zandill and had planted a small percussion grenade under your chair with intent to kill you.” Turning from Blake back to the chairman, and in light of the chairman’s continued aggressive stance over his desk, she stood and placed her own hand inches from his on

the polished desktop and spoke as if speaking to a child, “Sergeant Hillsborough is no more a Zandill spy than you are, Mr. Chairman.” She nearly lost her words when she read something on his face. “In fact, while not yet officially announced, Sergeant Hillsborough is my mate, and as such, under diplomatic law which…” she paused as she looked at everyone else in the chairman’s office. “…I believe still carries some weight in the galaxy and you have no right to detain him for any reason whatsoever. And furthermore, I demand that you take me to him at once.” After an uncomfortable silence in which the chairman glanced over her shoulder at someone and Mr. Crenshaw cleared his throat twice, the chairman exploded, his finger marking his words with sonorous taps on his desktop. “You listen here, Princess. I want you to go back to that God forsaken planet of yours and tell your mother that she has much greater problems than the Zandill because the moment…” When Crenshaw jumped to his feet and interrupted, she thought the Chairman would actually explode, or at the least, drop dead. “I believe the Meline position is very clear, Princess Peenzan. Let me find Sergeant Hillsborough for you and please accept our apologies in this particular matter. We’ll have to dig deeper and see if we can find the person that planted those terrible things in his quarters.” “Since you have him in custody, I would believe you know exactly where he is. Or…” She leaned across the desk digging a fingernail into the wood desktop. “Can the mighty United Corporation not even keep track of its prisoners, Mr. Chairman?” She saw no need to continue the meeting, and dragging her fingernail across the desktop leaving a deep scratch, turned abruptly, strode to the door, and waited, her intentions obvious. The chairman cleared his throat, scowled, and fell back into his chair nodding at Blake. “You are quite right, Madame Ambassador, let me take you to him.” Pran was waiting outside the chairman’s office, and Peenzan took her aside and whispered, “We must leave immediately. It is no longer safe here. Make ready and call the Queen while I find Sergeant Hillsborough.” “But…” She’d already made her decision and made it an order. “At once, Pran.” **** He listened as the guard returned and his boots stopped a few steps away in front of the cell. Opening the door quietly he slipped out and in three long strides was behind the guard before the alarm could be raised. Wrapping his big arm around the guard’s neck he squeezed just long enough for the man to pass out and sag against his body. Opening the cell he dragged him inside, pulled the door closed, and locked it. Sprinting down the corridor, he stopped and peered around the corner. What a mess. Of all the things, and looking behind him up the short corridor, of all the places. He knew UC-1, the chairman’s flagship, as well as he knew the back of his hand, and while there were more than a million people on board to lose himself in, that also meant he had to find one person, one Meline, in that million. “Damn-it-to-hell! What have you done to me?”

Another glance and he turned the corner tucking his shirt in, and ducked into the first service lift he came upon. **** As they went down in a lift in the central core, she thought she could smell it on him. On the whole lot of them. Her mother had told her to expect no less in the Zandill matter, but protocol dictated they should at least state their case. Their deceit was obvious, as much an affront as the position proposed. “If you’d follow me, Madame Ambassador,” Crenshaw said as he stepped out of the lift and waited. As they walked among the throngs of people in the service area of the huge ship, she said, “I must say, Mr. Crenshaw, we find it difficult to understand the UC’s affinity with such a bloodthirsty race as the Zandill. If I recall correctly, it was only four years ago that you sent your own forces in to bring order to a most disorderly situation that threatened to destroy your mining operation on their moon.” “Ah, Princess, but that is the point, isn’t it? We did bring order to the situation on Zandill, and as fate would have it, their new parliament has taken the replenishment of their atmosphere as a first order of business.” “And might I point out, Mr. Crenshaw, that those very resources were ignorantly squandered by the very leaders of Zandill long before you brought order to the, ah, situation as you call it.” “You are right. I must give you that. Actually, our hope was that, given the abundance of those resources on Meline, a contract could be reached between the two worlds that would benefit all.” She was burning with anger and thought it best not to pursue the topic further. Instead she asked, “And where are you taking me, Mr. Crenshaw?” “Only a little further, Princess. The brig is just down this corridor on the left. It’s a very small thing, a simple affair. Crime is almost unheard of on UC-1.” She scowled. It would depend a lot on what you define as a crime, she thought. Turning to the matter at hand her steps quickened. At last. I’m coming, my love. She tried her best to hide the soft purr that had started in her chest. **** He’d made it to the diplomatic level, but the going would be much tougher now. The hordes of people had thinned out and security D cameras and other sensors were everywhere. Ducking into the main kitchen that sent meals out on carts to all the suites on this level, he smiled at a short round woman working at a food preparation table and kept on walking as if he owned the place. Just as a chef’s hat appeared he ducked into a freezer, picked up a plastic crate of lettuce, and stepped back out. He hoped his black slacks and white shirt, no matter how crumpled, would keep him hidden until he could find the steward’s locker room. ****

Standing in front of the detention cell watching a medic tend to the guard, her purr only intensified when she realized Sergeant Hillsborough must be in even more serious danger than she’d thought. “I’m very sorry, Princess. It would seem your mate, well, and our traitor, has escaped.” A sliver of a smile appeared. “My mate is no traitor! To anyone!” she declared, turning on him, her voice almost a guttural growl. “If he has escaped it is because he felt a need to. It is because he felt that his life was in danger.” “Well, Princess…” She wanted to scratch the man’s eyes out. “Did it occur to you that he escaped because he’s guilty, and knows that he will be tried and executed?” She could stand it no more. Her hand came up and she slapped Crenshaw so hard he rocked back on his heels. Her face was in his before he could straighten up. “I believe, Mr. Crenshaw, that you need to read up on your Meline history a little more because you obviously have no idea what you’re talking about!” Crenshaw recovered a modicum of decorum, and back straight and stiff, jaw clenched, said in an ominous tone, “That, Princess, was a very serious mistake. In diplomatic circles striking a member of the diplomatic community is considered an act of war and you, Madame Ambassador, have just thrown the first volley.” She refused to back down and leaned close enough she could smell the man’s foul breath, “I believe, Mr. Crenshaw, that has been the UC’s intention all along. You don’t care about the Meline. You only care about the helium 3 that lies on our ground like rocks and dirt lay on yours. And,” she said as she inched a little closer, “You shall not have it!” Having recovered, his voice was ice when he asked, “Is that a threat, Madame Ambassador?” “No.” She spun on her heel and started her retreat, throwing over her shoulder, “By Bast, it’s a promise!” **** “We must leave at once, Pran!” Her purr had become completely uncontrollable. “But, Princess, I have not finished preparations,” And looking behind the princess, she added, “And I believe we’re missing something.” She swallowed to control her purring and cursed Bast again for her shenanigans. “We are missing nothing! We must leave everything and go to the transporter at once!” “But, Peenzan…” “I have decided,” she began and swallowed again. “The UC wishes to destroy our planet and we must return at once to inform the queen. If it is Bast’s wish, he will find me. If it is not, he will perish along with the rest of the stinking humans!” **** The steward kept his head down inspecting the dishes on his tray as he pushed his cart up the long corridor on the diplomatic level. Reading the order slip one last time as

two UC corpsmen walked past discussing the escaped prisoner, he made a show of matching the number to the suite, straightened his white jacket, and rapped on the door. Vigilant of any passersby, he rapped again and smiled at a maintenance woman as she walked past. After a third attempt, he quickly dug his nails under the edge of the hand scan plate, let it fall into his other hand, picked up a knife from the cart, and with a yellow spark as he shorted the contacts, opened the door. Quickly pushing the cart into the foyer Hill fairly ran the length of the suite, looking in every room. The second time through he also looked in the closets. “Damn.” He sat on the edge of the bed. He was amazed when his mind suddenly cleared, and while still present, his thoughts of her were no longer urgent. Rolling into the bedspread he grabbed a pillow and breathed deeply. Yes, it’s her. His heart settled, and unfortunately, his cock swelled more. That’s when he saw it. A small envelope with six straight lines on the outside in opposing groups of three. Holding it to his nose he smiled, then immediately frowned at what he was doing. “Damn her to hell.” He wadded the paper up and threw it off the bed. When he scrambled after it as if it were the most valuable document in the galaxy, he had only himself to curse. His hands shook as he straightened it carefully on the bed and discovered words he couldn’t read. Meline, he supposed and he cursed. “Shit.” He snatched it up, stuffed it in his pocket, and stormed out of the bedroom. Back at the main entrance he hit the manual release and slid the door open only an inch to check the corridor. When the hallway was clear, he moved quickly. **** It had taken more than two hours of ducking and skulking, but he’d finally made it to the cavernous engine bay at the stern of the galaxy class cruiser. Hungry and shaking, curled in a ball in the corner of a tool room, he cursed himself for being in such a state, his body for betraying him, and the Corporation for labeling him a traitor. Every time he tried to figure out what was happening with his body he would see her smiling face floating just out of reach. She’s like a drug, damn it! No, she drugged me and this is withdrawal. It was like she was inside of him tormenting him. His cock was so hard it hurt and the last time he’d tried to piss he almost couldn’t. As much as he hated to, he pulled his balled fist to his nose and sniffed. He didn’t know why, but he’d discovered that smelling the note she’d left could calm him. Holding it balled tightly in his fist, he pulled it up again and pushed his nose in, drawing her fragrance deep until his quaking died. This is bullshit, he thought, and as if weakened by a long illness, he pushed against the wall and struggled to stand. Once his balance returned he straightened completely, breathed deep to clear his head, and tried to decide what to do. He had to get off the ship. The question was, how? Transporter would be quickest, but the most difficult. A ship, something small, would be easiest, but given their location halfway between the Zandill system and his own solar system, he’d be stuck in deep space for at least two weeks in a small ship. His hand relaxed around the wadded note and he stared at it in his palm. And you, he

mused as he contemplated burning the piece of paper, I can’t even survive an hour without you. Curse you, Princess! Then he saw it. Well, he thought he saw it. A word in English. Sliding back down the wall, he squatted and worked at flattening out the piece of smudged parchment. At first he just saw the odd scribbles in Meline, but turning the paper over, he found a note in English. My darling, First I must apologize for the hardship I know you must be going through. If it is any comfort, my love, I am suffering just as you are. There is no time to explain here. It is more important that you are safe. If you found this note, which I pray to Bast you did, then all is not lost. Now you must find me. I had to return to Meline without you. The void is filled with danger and I must protect the Meline people. You must come at once. I have written a note on the other side of this piece of paper that will explain who you are when you come through the transporter. Show it to whomever you should find and they will bring you to me. Do not tarry, my love, I fear the war will start quickly. You are in the greatest danger and you must know that my heart travels with you. With all my love, Your Peenzan. PS—I have left a part of me here. Keep it close, it will help. My love? War? I have left a part of me…keep it close? He cursed and kicked a plastic shipping crate. Sniffing the piece of paper, he decided again it was all some kind of germ warfare. Well, one thing he did know for sure, it wasn’t safe here and if he was going to find an antidote, it was going to be on Meline. Pulling the tool room door open an inch, he watched and waited. **** “I know, Mother!” Her purring had only grown worse since arriving back at Meline. “But why did you leave him?” Peenzan paced from the splash of yellow sun on the polished stone floor back to her mother and turned to continue her prowl. “I felt I had to! For Meline and our people!” “Will you sit down and drink this! It will take hours for you to explain if you don’t stop purring!” But it felt so good. It brought him close. And besides, she’d promised to suffer with him. “I mean it, Peenzan. I know what you’re going through. Believe me, your father still drives me crazy. But you are of no use to the Meline people, or him, in this state. You must have a clear mind.” Her mother was right and she relented. Setting the gold cup back on the table, she let go of his feeling in her chest and cleared her throat. “Now, dear, you must go on.” “Well, I feel I must discuss the chairman first. They have threatened war.” And for an hour as the sun of Meline grew sleepy to the north, the queen and her

princess sat quietly discussing what she had done and said. **** This was his third try, and as far as he knew, his last chance. He’d found the previous two transport portals heavily guarded and a D-projection of his head floating by the entrance with the word Terrorist in large letters beneath. He’d decided the last place they’d look, the last place they’d think he’d go, would be back to the base quadrant where men and heavy equipment were moving on and off the ship constantly. And it had been easier than he’d thought it would be. Ducking into the rear exit of the corps laundry, he’d stripped and thrown his old clothes away, careful to retrieve the note. Finding a pile of dirty uniforms, he’d searched frantically for something that came close to fitting, thrown it on, and picked up a discarded laser helmet and plopped it on his head, dropping the shield. He had no idea who’d last used the uniform, but he smelt like a dead rrunger from the jank system and he considered trying to raid the depot for a clean one. Deciding that was entirely too complicated, he walked through the showers and grabbed the first tags he could find. Stepping out, he took the main corridor past the arsenal and tried to grab an MR280, but there were too many troops around. He’d only been outside his home system twice. One was when he was deployed to one of the moons around Zandill to take back a UC mining complex, and the other was now as part of the diplomatic protection unit for UC-1. He knew how transporters worked but didn’t really know anything about where he was going, or for that matter, which receiving transport node to select. He loafed in a corner and pretended to be checking his watch while waiting for someone until one of the small troop transporters was clear. Looking up the corridor, he saw a lull in people and equipment, and pulling his uniform as straight as he could, stepped away from the wall and sauntered up to the transport officer. “Hey,” he called, keeping it casual. When the kid snapped to attention, he glanced at his sleeve and realized he’d grabbed a lieutenant’s uniform. “At ease, son.” The kid dropped to parade rest and waited. Everything was documented and inventoried, and he also knew this was the most dangerous part of his journey. With an air of authority that came natural and a booming voice that left the kid quaking in his boots, he stepped into the transport and yelled, “What the hell did you let them leave for?” The kid just stared, wide eyed at whatever his mistake might have been. “How the hell could you let them leave without their fucking lieutenant?” Finally the kid found his voice, “Ah, sorry, sir. Who would that be, sir?” “You know, that last bunch that went to Meline.” The kid jumped and started jabbering, “Oh, sorry, sir. I thought their commander was with ’em. Yeah…” the kid said as he bent over a flat screen on a pedestal in deep concentration. “Right, here, it is right here. Lieutenant Billicks was with ’em, sir.” His blood ran cold. It had only been a guess, but it had paid off. That meant Madame Ambassador’s letter was right. If not a war, then definitely some type of aggression was

planned. He tried to buddy up. “Isn’t that just like the corps, Private? Hell, they couldn’t freeze ice in the Blue Moon system if you gave ’em water! Tell ya what, kid, just send me on through and we’ll forget about it.” “But, sir, I show the last six platoons went through in full camouflage and armed. Where’s your camouflage, sir?” That got his attention. Stepping out of the transporter he noticed the kid had started looking at him funny. Walking up, he brought to bear the full weight of his physical presence and leaned over the kid’s shoulder to look at the screen. “Well…well…well…sir, I mean, they were all set to fight. I just don’t want you stuck there without a weapon.” Reading the screen, he ground his teeth loud enough the kid heard him when he saw over twenty-eight platoons had landed at the Corporation site on the Meline moon in the last twenty-four hours. He also saw a list of heavy armor and fighting craft. Omega? “Placing his big hand on the private’s shoulder in a fatherly fashion, he whispered in amazement. “You know what, kid? You’re absolutely right.” When his big thumb and forefinger pinched at the base of the kid’s neck he heard a squelched scream and the kid fell into his arms. Looking around, he quickly dragged the kid out of sight, ran to the flat screen, decided he didn’t want to go to the moon base, and without knowing where he’d end up, selected something on the Meline planet, hit START and dove into the transporter just before the big transformers started humming up to full power. He didn’t even get a chance to blink. Instead of the olive green transporter housing, he was suddenly on a polished rock floor looking at what he guessed was a Meline male dressed in some kind of translucent shimmering material that hugged his skin, sandals, and something like a pair of black underwear. When the male smiled at him, he smiled back. Then his world went dark. **** When he opened his eyes he was, once again, naked and on what he thought was a bed. Where he lay was soft, and glancing around he saw it was round and very big. A gossamer material rose from all around and pulled into a bunch behind a gold ball at least twenty feet above. And, he noted with a sigh, he felt at peace. “You’re up,” came a whisper and he jerked his head around trying to find the source. “Do not worry, my love, I will be there shortly.” He couldn’t find the source, but even whispered, he recognized the voice. Madame Ambassador was about. Pushing up he noticed the rank smell of the dirty uniform he’d stolen had been replaced by a soft summer smell of flowers and spice on his skin. Someone had bathed him. Moving to the edge of the bed, he let his feet fall over the edge and found the floor only a few inches away. Running his fingers along the gossamer veil he found an opening and crawled out. He didn’t see anything that looked like clothing, so he just walked around naked. The room was at least fifty feet square and thirty feet high. The walls and floor were

a black polished stone of some kind, and when he rapped it with his knuckles there was only the dead sound of something very substantial. He saw no door and wondered if he was being held prisoner. Just as quickly, he discarded the thought, and just as quickly, wondered why the thought didn’t bother him. Windows on opposite ends of the room were high on the wall and he could see the stone was at least a yard thick. There didn’t appear to be any glass in them and he could hear something, maybe a bird, singing somewhere outside. Below one set of windows was a pool of amber colored liquid the size of a wading pool, he had no idea how deep, and below the other set of windows sat a desk and something else he couldn’t define. Walking over, he inspected it closely. A stand of polished black stone seemed to grow out of the floor to form a flat surface about the height of his knees. An indent the shape of a full-sized person was lined with gold, or something that shined like gold, and covered most the top. Beside the place where the head would lie stood a single unlit candle. Moving to the desk he found a neat stack of paper or some type of parchment, with scribbles that looked like what had been written on the back of the note he’d been carrying. “There you are, my love!” He recognized her purr immediately. Spinning around, he found Madame Ambassador, another Meline female in a gold robe, and a Meline male in a matching robe, standing in the middle of the room beside the bed. Off to one side stood another Meline female in a black robe that looked tattered and threadbare. His first reaction was anger, then he realized he was naked and he brought a hand down to cover himself. Then, as if in a dream, a very strange dream, he smiled broadly. It has to be a drug. Or some kind of mind control. He managed to erase the smile and demanded, “Where the hell am I and what the hell is going on, Madam Ambassador?” When the brightly robed woman laughed softly and leaned toward the robed man to say something, he had no problem finding his anger. Releasing his cock and balls, he met Madam Ambassador halfway as she walked toward him smiling, her hand up, planted his feet, and scowled down at her. “Look, Madam Ambassador, I want to know what the hell you’ve done to me! And if I don’t get some answers pretty quick I’ll…I’ll…” “You’ll what?” she challenged with a purr into his chest, a soft smile, and a touch on his bare hip. When the brightly robed woman stepped up, stared into his eyes, and whispered something to Madam Ambassador, he wanted to…what? He only felt warmth and comfort. Something he’d felt recently. With a start, he recalled where and when. “I’m sorry, my darling. I’m sure it’s all very confusing. Shortly I will explain. But first, my mother, the queen, would like to give you her warmest welcome to Meline.” He’d reached his limit. “Enough!” he bellowed and not a light blue eye in his small audience blinked. His state of dress, or lack of it, didn’t seem to bother anyone else so he forgot about it, and standing straight as a board, his huge chest puffed out and his broad shoulders back, he announced, “If I have been taken prisoner, then so be it. But from this moment

on I absolutely refuse to cooperate in any way and will provide you with only my name, rank, and serial number.” No one moved for a few seconds, then just as quickly as they’d given their attention, Madam Ambassador turned and started speaking in Meline, the robed woman glanced at him a few times, all the while smiling and the robed man, once he’d listened to the Ambassador, fairly beamed. In three quick strides the robed man was on him, pumping his hand and saying who knew what. A few pats on the back followed until the robed woman stepped forward, and with a bigger smile, bowed slightly and dragged the man away. Then the Meline woman in the black tattered robe stepped up, took his hand, muttered something soft enough he could barely hear her, and turned to leave. “That’s my aunt. She says you have the hands of a warrior and the eyes of a great lover.” Somewhat disarmed, he tried to stop the blush that burned his neck. At a place across from the bed where he had found no door, the three paused, the polished surface parted, and they stepped through chatting incessantly. The wall materialized immediately and he was left standing alone with Madame Ambassador. He was still staring at the non-existent hole in the wall when he felt it. A warmth that carried a soothing vibration against his stomach. His eyes wide with surprise, he looked down and saw Madame Ambassador’s head snuggled against his chest. A quick step back and he exclaimed, “This is crazy! You’re all cra…” “No, my darling. Please,” she said and stepped closer. “Let me explain.” “And that,” he spat as he jerked his thumb in the general direction of the stone slab with the gold lined body impression on top. “What the hell is that thing? Is that for sacrificing prisoners or something?” “No, silly, that’s a birthing table.” Wait, did she just say birthing table? Babies? He gulped. She was wearing some dark translucent material that, while not as revealing as the veil she’d worn the first time he’d seen her, was much more suggestive and seemed to pull specific thoughts from his mind about their previous night in bed. When his cock swelled, he cringed and took another step back. She smiled at his dilemma and offered, “Maybe if we sit down, and maybe if you will let me tell you what’s happening to your body, you will feel more at ease.” It was like a slow burn. He could feel it inside. A fuse that was tied to the words—I have to have her. Which, frankly, he had no problem with. From where he stood she was the most desirable creature he’d ever seen. What he couldn’t stand was the absolute lack of control he seemed to have. When he didn’t speak she went on softly, “I can’t imagine how confused you must be.” She took a small step towards him. “But you must believe me…” she began as she closed the space between them with another small step. “…when I tell you that I would never…” she paused as she pressed into him, her head once again resting on his chest, her breasts touching the top of his stomach and her hands touching lightly on his forearms, “…never, no matter what, hurt you or allow you to be hurt in any way.” And, for some stupid reason, he believed her. At the same time he wanted to turn and run, something he’d never done in his entire life, from this enemy who was completely

beyond his power to fight. Instead, with every muscle in his body pulled as tight as a piano string, he waited. “I must tell you that, because of my love for you, I am sorry that Bast has done such a cruel thing to you.” He felt her weight fall against him which seemed to squeeze more blood into his cock making it that much harder. A cold sweat rose on his brow as he looked down and saw it sticking out lewdly between their bodies. He was powerless to defend himself when her hands moved up his arms, past his neck, and landed on his ears with a gentle tug. My God, what has she done to me? “But I also must tell you that I am the happiest woman in the galaxy, and selfish as this may sound, I am glad that Bast chose such a wonderful mate for me. I think that she is most certainly the wisest goddess of them all.” He hadn’t realized his head had come down with her gentle tugs and when her lips fell on his he did the only thing he could to conquer the she-cat that held him captive. He brought his arms up, and in one swift move, pulled her to him and tried as best he could to kiss her into submission with all the aggressive tenderness he could muster. He dug at the silky cloth that covered her back, and grabbing as much as he could, ripped it and she giggled against his mouth. When she pulled away he followed her lips determined to hold her captive. Following a ridge of silky hair that ran down her spine he found more material and ripped again. She sighed and pulled him closer, her small body vibrating against him with a soothing purr. His mind was confused, but his fingers knew what to do when he found her broad back-fall of hair that draped across her ass. Raking down he discovered a depth of about an inch before he touched her bare ass cheeks hidden beneath. This time he moaned. With a strength and quickness that surprised him, she freed herself, and pulling him toward the huge bed, changed the battleground. With a rush he tackled her, lifting her over his shoulder, and with one rip, destroyed half the drape that surrounded the bed. She laughed and pounded playfully on his back. Stepping into the middle of the mattress, holding tightly to what was left of her wrap, he flipped her onto her back and dropped her. He was amazed when she landed naked on her hands and knees still laughing. “You are my tree,” and she wiggled her ass and giggled. He fell to his knees and buried his face in her platinum colored back-fall and rutted her with his nose. Her breath caught, her eyes shot open, and she moaned, “No, that was not the work of a tree. I think you are more like an animal.” When his tongue found the bare cleft hidden below her back-fall she squealed, “Or a beast!” He pushed the attack and shoved on her back until she sprawled onto the bed covering with an inviting groan. Grabbing her hip he flipped her and stopped in awe as her ears, nose, and nipples all flushed a dark chocolate brown and the narrow slits of her

pupils opened so wide she no longer had light blue eyes, but instead, bottomless black ones. He followed his nose to the inside of her thighs and breathed deep. He couldn’t explain it, even to himself. Just like the previous night he had a sudden feeling of comfort and warmth. He licked from a knee to her small brown pussy lips and she mewed. He did it again and could taste it on her skin. The source of his torment and fountain of his comfort. “God!” he growled. He didn’t know how it happened. He only knew that he was trying to consume the inside of her thigh, then suddenly, her foot was on his chest, he was on his back, and she was crawling over his body with a triumphant smile on her face. “Yes, you are my beast,” she purred and dipped her head to suck his nipple. “My noble beast,” she continued as she kissed just above his heart and drove him mad with a burst of purring that seemed to stretch from her lips to his heart when she pulled her head away. “But most of all…” she said balancing her knees on his big thighs, her hands on his hard stomach, and crawling down his body. Her head dipped over his rock hard cock and she licked before finishing her sentence, “…you are mine.” His massive hands fell on her shoulders, and he rolled them both and landed between her legs. Finding a brown nipple, he sucked it until it darkened before abandoning it for the other. “Tell me,” he whispered with a lecherous smile trying a new tact—torture. The mirth vanished and she grunted with lust. His hands on her ribs, he gently lifted and watched in amazement as her head fell back, her neck stretched beneath his mouth, and she moaned. Licking her from nape to ear he whispered again, “I want to know.” “It is our way,” she whispered back. “Yes, that part I know,” he replied and found the small jumping pulse on the side of her throat, closing his teeth until the skin bunched between them. She squeaked. “Why can’t I resist you?” he asked, applying what he hoped would be his most insidious weapon. He kissed her. She squirmed against the side of him that pressed between her thighs, and twisted away from his mouth. “Because I am meant to be yours.” Finding the jumping pulse on the other side of her neck, he sucked and she mewed. He raised her chest higher and her head continued to loll on the bed, “What if I don’t want you?” Her legs opened and she laughed dreamily. “Tell me you don’t,” she challenged. He kissed the bottom of her chin and growled, “I could kill you right now.” Limp in his big hands she shivered, her own hands finding his head. “Go ahead. Do it.” Checkmate. What he wanted to do to her had nothing to do with death or such a gruesome act as killing. Lowering her gently back to the mattress, he brought to bear the full weight of his

chest on hers and kissed the end of her nose, marveling at how it flushed a darker chocolate brown. “But why? You have to tell me why.” Her nails raked wildly through his hair and over his scalp, she bit her lip, and her eyes roamed the air over his shoulder wildly. With a deep breath she asked, “Must you know why the sky is blue to enjoy it?” He growled again and slid across her vibrating chest until his own neck was stretched over her mouth, offering her an opportunity of her own. And she bit him. She nibbled and chewed and opened her thighs even more when he twisted his body, fished for his cock, and drove his warriors lance deep into enemy territory. He growled and she bit hard on her captured muscle of rope. He retreated to thrust again and she found a new place to bite. This time harder and he knew he’d never be able to resist her. His eyes rolled wildly and he continued his assault. “Yes,” she muttered, and her fingers found his shoulders where she dug deep with each attack. Her mewing and sighs, squeaks and gulps, were magically transformed into words of love whispered in his ear. Her body became a cathedral where he surrendered his soul and threw himself prostrate to praise in humble adoration of the beautiful creature that had conquered him so completely. When he felt her urgency, his only purpose was fulfilling her again and again. Of leaving her sated no matter how long the battle. When her breath caught, her purr fell silent, and her thighs pulled tight around him, he found her mouth and breathed for her while he brought her to death’s door and back again with his cock. There was no music to it, no breathy sigh or lilting laugh when it happened. It was a fight as she struggled to pull away from his mouth, closed her eyes, and mouth gaping, issued an animalistic cry that crawled its way up her throat in fits and jerks, and echoed around the great stone chamber until it settled on his back, driving him mad with desire. His breath was hot, his lips dry, and his jaw clenched, when in response to her primordial cry, his toes digging for perch, his sweaty calves bulging, his thighs drew hard as steel, and in search of more strength, his body trapped the air in his chest and he exploded inside her, his body jerking and twisting trying to prolong the beautiful agony that overcame him. When he fell spent, struggling to breathe, his mind slipping from bliss to selfish quiet contentment, he discovered there were stars in the galaxy that required more than a spaceship to explore.

Chapter Three When he awoke the cavernous bedroom was lit by a soft blue glow that fell through the high windows and the only sound was her soft purring against his chest. He marveled at how she seemed to burrow beneath him to sleep. He still didn’t understand, but he knew he’d surrendered more than his body to Madame Ambassador and felt no regrets. He reached for his wrist to press the small tab that would make the face of his watch light up and realized he no longer had a watch. Rolling quietly to the edge of the bed, he pushed off the mattress and nearly fell when his feet tangled in the gossamer drape he’d torn from the ceiling earlier. “Shit,” he cursed and skipped away from the bed, pulling his foot free. With the low light and black walls he could barely see, but walked in the general direction of where the wall opposite the bed should be. With a round bed it was hard to be sure. Finally finding the smooth hard surface, he waited and nothing happened. How the hell did they do it? Feeling his way further down the wall, he waited again and again nothing happened. “Come back to bed, my love.” He nearly jumped out of his skin when her arms wrapped around his waist and she hugged him from behind. How did she do that? I didn’t hear a thing. Still enjoying the glow of their lovemaking, he fished for her shoulder and gently tugged her around his body and pulled her into his arms. “What have you done to me?” he pleaded with a kiss to her forehead. He enjoyed her smile and how her purr deepened against his chest. “I exist.” was her only answer. “There has to be more.” “Let me try to explain.” “First, I need to piss.” She laughed and pulled away, taking his hand with her. A sound came out of her mouth and the room slowly became brighter. Pulling him past the pool of amber water, she walked toward a corner and stopped. He waited, and when nothing happened, he looked at her. “You must use your feet.” My feet? To pee? To kick something open? “Here,” she said. “Slide your foot along the floor.” He did. It was smooth as glass. He just stared at her. “Now,” she added and slid her foot forward “Slide your foot forward until you feel something in the floor.” Sliding his foot forward, he finally found it. A series of very small ridges about two feet from the wall. Still nothing happened. “Did you find them?” “Ah, I think so.” “Now, walk to where they are and stand.” He did, and in less than a second the wall slid away or faded away, he wasn’t sure

which. Behind it was something that looked like it might be a toilet, but he wasn’t sure of that either. She dragged him in and the wall reappeared behind them. She pointed and said, “In there.” While he pissed she leaned into a mirror above an ornately carved sink and inspected her beautiful face. He felt stupid, but had to ask, “Now what?” She showed him how to make it flush and how to make water run in the sink. She handed him a towel that felt more like a piece of fur than cloth, and then showed him how to find the bumps on the floor that would open the wall again. He had to have some answers. There was no denying he’d been caught, no, trapped by this Meline woman, just as there was no denying he had no real desire, beyond the intellectual, to escape or understand. He resolved to find out. When she stepped through the wall, he grabbed her arm and shoved her out. “What is it?” she asked in a panic. Pulling her arm up enough to make his point he marched her toward the bed and shoved her roughly onto the mattress. She laughed and rolled onto her back, “Uh, so you really are a beast!” He didn’t get it at first, then realized her knees had come up, thighs were open, and she was waiting for him to join her. “No, damn it!” She was up with a quickness he couldn’t follow, “What is it, my love?” “Stop that!” “What, my darling!” “That! My love! My darling! The purring! All that!” He started pacing. She sounded disappointed when she answered sans purr, “If that is your wish, Sergeant Hillsborough.” He cringed. The words grated and the lack of endearment felt…he couldn’t decide what it felt like, but it didn’t feel right. And for some reason he felt bad because he’d hurt her feelings. “Look…” he said and spun on his heel to stare at her, only to find she was halfway to the pool of water. He jogged to catch up, grabbed her arm, spun her around to discover a defiant stare, and softening his tone said, “Look, Madame Ambassador, I just want to know what you’ve done to me.” She huffed and stared at his big hand on her arm until he released her. Continuing on toward the pool, she was angry when she said, “I have done nothing to you, Sergeant!” When she stepped into the pool he heard a soft tone like a wind chime in a breeze. As she walked to the middle of the pool, the water undulating with her movements, her body disappearing, the wind chimes became numerous. “Damn,” and he followed her to the pool. “I’m sorry.” But he didn’t understand why. “I don’t get it. I don’t understand what it is you do to me.” She splashed around and dipped her platinum hair, ignoring him completely. He felt crazed, but at the same time resigned. To what? He had no idea. He sat in a funk on a stone seat or shelf, he didn’t care what it was, beside the pool. “It’s like the first time I saw you.” The wind chimes continued to play. “I, well, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. My mind seemed to get all weird and the only thing I

could think about was, well, petting you. You know, touching your fur or whatever it is.” With that she laughed. “But then you touched me or leaned into me, and well, purred, and I haven’t been the same since.” Then she giggled and he wanted to be mad at her. He wanted to grab her by her neck and jerk her out of the water and demand she explain. But he didn’t. He dropped his chin on the palm of his hand and planted his elbow on his knee, and moon-eyed, just stared at her playing in the water. “I truly am sorry, Sergeant Hillsborough. My mother says that, given my age, I can be such a child sometimes.” When her voice soothed him, he wanted to run from the room screaming. But he didn’t. He just continued to sulk and watched her play in the water. “I have read books by your writers that spoke of true and lasting love.” She flipped, her ass surfacing before she disappeared beneath the water. When she came back up, she cleared her face and went on. “Of men and women that love each other so much they almost become sick with it. I think they call it love sick.” He grunted and enjoyed the wind chimes she made. “And I’ve heard of something else. I think I saw it on an ancient flat screen movie from your planet. Something about love at first sight.” He sighed like a love-sick puppy when she pushed onto her back and floated. “Well, I say that because, while your species seems to ignore the truth and fantasize about such things as love sick and love at first sight…” Her voice trailed off as she rolled mid-sentence flashing her ass and back-fall at him, and disappeared beneath the water to a chorus of gentle chimes. When she came up at his feet clinging to the edge, she went on, “So, while your species fantasizes those things, we, the Meline, know them to be true. We know that in all of Meline, well, and the galaxy, and probably the universe, there is only one Meline.” She stopped, stared up at him, and corrected, “One soul that is destined to be our mate. Fortunately, Bast, our goddess, was wise enough to make that mutual.” “But what happened to courtship? To discovery? To freewill? To, well, dating?” She kicked away and walked out of the pool on some stairs beneath the water’s surface, and watching his eyes, walked around and sat on the stone bench beside him, careful not to touch or scare. “You see, that’s where your species has made a mistake. They’ve brought judgment and logic into something that has nothing to do with either. You humans plot and think and wonder why. You try to make love a question.” Somewhere it registered that she was whispering, her breath soft on his ear. “When, in fact, there is no question in love. There is only feeling. Love is a matter of heart, not a question of the mind.” His cock was swelling and his heart racing. Trying to cling to reality, he fisted his hard cock in his lap and said accusingly, “But look! Look what you’ve done to me! I’ve been like that since the first time I saw you.” Her laugh was soft and she seemed to rush to stifle it, “But how else would you want your cock to be with the one you lov…with the one you choose to love?” “But I didn’t even know you!” “Yes, but you saw me, and more importantly, you smelled me.” “What?” His surprise was real.

He felt her thigh touch his and she prodded, “Tell me what I smell like to you.” The warmth of her thigh made his heart race and he scooted away, “Well, you smell sweet. Spice or something. Maybe flowers. And something else. I don’t know.” “But it’s pleasant to you?” He stared at her, but refused to answer. She smiled, “You see, no one else can smell me. Well, they do, but I just smell like, well, a Meline. I smell like a million other Meline and humans and Zandills. I guess you could say I stink, just like they do.” His cock was throbbing and when he realized his hand was still wrapped around it, he let go and slid a little further away on the bench. “Because I am meant to be yours, you’re the only one that can smell me. It happens the moment two souls meant for one another come together.” “It’s perfume or something.” She was quick to reply, “We use none.” “Well,” he said and pointed accusingly at the pool, “It’s the water.” She laughed and said, “Go ahead, smell it. It just smells like water. Well, and maybe a little like me because I just bathed in it. But that’s just me. Nothing else.” “But why do you call me your love?” She leaned close and whispered, “Because you are. Because there is no one in the universe meant for me but you. I guess the difference is that I understand that. You’re still caught up in your doubts and questions.” There hadn’t been a word in their conversation that he hadn’t understood, but he had no idea what she was talking about. He guessed it showed because she leaned her face a few inches from his and whispered, “Just know this: I have done nothing to make this happen other than be me. And,” she continued, glancing down at his cock and taking his hand. “Just as you react to me…” she paused and gently curled his fingers into a fist, leaving his middle finger free, and straddled his thighs, her sex open for him. “This is how I’ve been since the first time we met.” He felt his finger guided in and heard her moan softly. She was soft and wet and warm and wetter, and his cock ached. When she released his hand, he pushed deeper instead of withdrawing. When she leaned against his head he could feel her soft purr on his forehead. His finger, a mind of its own, moved in and out slowly, and he felt her arms wrap around his head and hold him to her breasts. And as any male, when his finger dips into a wet female, he marveled at how she reacted to his presence, his touch. Or, in this case, his smell. Her purr subsided and she seemed to struggle to say, “So, my darling, my one true love, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, you may also discover there is nothing to forgive.” He heard that small squeaking sound he’d come to…yes, he thought, to love, and he wrapped his free arm around her waist and lifted her against his body as he stood. He felt her legs wrap around him and her head fell on his shoulder with a sigh. His finger slipped out and he found his cock. It slid in as easily as a finger slides in a glove that fits perfectly, and he brought his other arm up and crushed her to his body. Spreading his big hands, he lifted her gently and let her drop. “Yesss,” she said on a sigh.

He struggled to open his stance more, leaned back slightly, and lifted her again. She was so wet and warm, it felt so right when he lowered her and felt her squirm, his cock filling her. Her arms draped over his shoulders and she pulled herself up before settling back again. He started to speak, “I…” And her lips forced the words back into his mouth. His muscles glistened and bulged, and she bit his shoulder. Then he felt it. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t want it yet and he held her up, his cock almost sliding free. He’d never been so close so fast in his life and he felt selfish. She nibbled up the rope of muscle on the side of his neck and whispered, “It’s okay. I want you to.” Her purr vibrated through him. With a grunt he dropped her on his cock and rolled his hips. The third time his come, his very essence, shot like quicksilver up his cock, and his body quaking, his big arms squeezing her to him, he filled her with his seed. On the verge of passing out, he chose to unceremoniously fall back on the stone bench with a grunt. She squeaked when his cock was driven deeper. He panted and clung to her. She settled in his lap, her legs relaxed around his waist, and purred against his chest. While he still couldn’t say the words, instead he found her lips and tried with all his might to say what he felt with his kiss. When the kiss ended she smiled and whispered, “I love you too.” **** He woke with a jerk and listened. The room was still a soft hazy blue and he could hear a bird. The windows didn’t seem bright enough yet and he guessed it was early morning. When he’d recovered they’d gone back to bed and he’d listened to her talk about love and questions and doubts, each word accented with her soft whispered purr. She’d laughed when he’d called her Madame Ambassador and told him her name was Peenzan. She’d explained a little about the planet, her family, her mother the queen and her father the king. “The line is through the female. We are a matriarch,” she’d explained. Then she’d laughed and added, “But everyone knows that, because he is her mate, the king will never be refused and has as much power as she does.” “And you, Sergeant,” she’d asked. “Do you have a name other than Hillsborough?” “My name is Stanley, but people call me Hill.” She’d whooped. “Yes, or more like a mountain!” He couldn’t understand how something as simple as his name could make her so happy. But then, he hadn’t understood much of anything for the last few days. Her explanation had been pretty straight forward, yet given the complete leap of faith and trust in feelings required, he found the whole thing hard to swallow. “Look, ma’am, I don’t…” Her finger was warm on his lips and her movements lithe when she pulled him from the bed, or as he’d labeled it his mind, her lair.

At the wall beside the pool of amber water, she paused and an opening appeared along with night sounds and a rush of cool fragrant air. It had been more than four years since his last excursion into a space bigger than the confines of a galaxy cruiser, and when she pulled him beneath the blanket of stars he gasped. What he knew as the Milky Way on earth was brighter and appeared closer on Meline. A few degrees off center above his head hung an azure moon with wisps of white banding that mottled the surface. He could smell something sweet and hear strange rhythmic clicks and scrapes, deep chirps, and the occasional soulful cry. Following the pull of her hand, he looked down and realized the ground was covered with something much lighter in color than grass. When he stepped off a stone, he almost laughed. It felt like fur. She pulled him up a small knoll and they stood at the cusp of a small meadow, that even in the dark, he could tell was full of color. “It’s difficult for you.” When he looked at her, he saw a small purple object coming over her shoulder in the night sky. Another moon. It whizzed over their heads and he watched it disappear at the opposite horizon. He knew that Meline had four moons, and ignoring her comment, searched for another. Her body was warm when she stepped in. “It’s okay Hill, I understand. It must all seem so strange to you.” He tried to resist. He willed his body rigid and wished she’d go away. “That was the queen’s daughter,” she offered and he felt her hand on his chest. “The big moon overhead is the queen, and we have a king and a prince. When something grabbed his shoulder, he jumped and then smiled at her lilting laugh. “A waltuun,” she said and her hand brushed his shoulder, plucking something off. When she opened her palm, he looked in wonder at a small red bird of some kind that stood and regarded them both before jumping back to his shoulder. “Ah, that’s a good sign. The waltuun is nature’s lover and he’s come to check you out. I think he likes you.” “Look, ma’am, I’m…” “Peenzan, please…” “Well, Peenzan, I’m just a grunt. A Corporate Marine. I know nothing about waltuuns and the queen’s daughter. I was just assigned to protect you…” “Yes you were, my love.” He shifted uncomfortably and thought about having the “my love” discussion again, thought better of it, and just said, “Well, and as much as I’d like to say I understand everything you’ve told me, I just can’t.” He noticed how her hair shined and skin glowed, and it made him want to turn and run for a safe haven. But, he realized, there was no place in the galaxy that felt more like a safe haven than in the arms of this most beautiful of celestial bodies. Finally she said, “But you will, my love, my warrior. Soon you will.” She squeaked softly when his hands found her shoulders and pulled her to the furry ground where he kissed her and searched her eyes. The quiet rumble of her chest felt like

home and he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. An hour later they were back in bed where he feasted between her thighs one last time and she sucked his very life through the end of his cock. He smiled when she curled on the mattress and pulled him over her like a blanket, purring him to sleep to the sound of night birds singing outside. **** Blake Crenshaw, as was his custom, replied with a non-committal grunt. It made his skin crawl to be standing shoulder to shoulder with fully armed Zandill death warriors. It made no difference that they were all United Corporation Marines who, through topsecret DNA shifting, only looked like Zandill and their loyalty and purpose lay with the Corporation. It just gave him the willies. “Okay, men, lock and load! Everyone has the coordinates! Everyone knows the drill! Priority number one is the package!” “Hilo jayyee!” The Zandill Death Warrior death cry rang out. “Oh, one other thing ladies,” the sergeant called and waited for the embarkation room to quiet down. “Be sure to rape and pillage while you’re at it! We want the Melines really pissed off at the wrong people!” “Hilo jayyee!” It had taken ten years from concept to reality, and Crenshaw was always amazed when an Omega squad hit the surface of a planet. Only a handful of board members, the chairman, and himself knew the real purpose behind RandD187—Black—Omega. He thought the name fitting—Omega—the end. Yes, when an Omega unit hit the ground running it was all over but the mop-up, and with RandD’s last development, even that was taken care of. He wasn’t going any farther; he’d only come to watch the beginning of the end of Meline. Stepping out of the embarkation room, he found an observation port at UC Mining station 2 on the Meline moon, the Queen, and watched, as in the blink of an eye, fifty Zandill Death Warriors, one small silver package, and several tons of military equipment disappeared. But he knew exactly where they were. They’d just blind jumped into the middle of a very peaceful valley ten clicks south of the Meline main palace. He smiled at the sergeant’s final words. No matter how nasty they got, it was nothing compared to what was coming. Looking at his watch, he headed for his quarters. Once there he secure linked to the chairman to report. Closing the link, he turned on his 3-D and found a Meline news channel. He wanted to hear about the bloody incursion right from the victim’s mouth. Damn, he thought, I just love my job. **** Hill jerked and listened. Then he heard it. Peenzan still purred beneath him and the light from the windows had gone from pale blue to a dusty gray—daybreak, he decided. He waited until the sound was at the edge of the bed, and in one practiced move, sprang to his feet and planted his big hands around the neck of the intruder. He couldn’t understand anything the young woman was saying, but he recognized

her. She swatted his big arms and struggled to get free. When he let go, she stumbled back and continued with a litany of Meline that he was sure included curses on his family. “Pran!” Peenzan held his arm and leaned into his body. “Ah, sorry, habit I guess.” He smiled, trying to smooth things over. He left them talking and went off to see if he remembered how to open the bathroom door. When he returned, the young woman was gone and Peenzan pulled him toward the pool of water. “My father has sent for us. Come, we will bathe and Pran will bring your clothes.” He couldn’t say the water was cold or warm. Just wet, and he marveled at the wind chimes that sounded with each splash. Somehow the water smelled crisp. Not soapy or perfumed, just different from what he knew as water. And the pool was much deeper than it looked from the edge, with steps that let him walk in. His skin tingled and Peenzan’s touches were electric. He cringed when his cock started swelling again. “My father would like to ask for your help. It seems Zandill Death Warriors have appeared at a small village south of here.” “Death Warriors?” “Not many. Our men have engaged them and chased them up Aannonn Mountain. Actually, they’re just watching them right now.” That didn’t sound like Zandill Death Warriors. They were never chased anywhere. They stood their ground and fought, taking pride in a fifty-to-one kill ratio, and with a zealot’s pride, always died with their weapons firing in the face of their enemies. He struggled to cling to the thought, but as quickly as it popped into his head, it was gone and he was lost in Peenzan flipping languidly and floating a few feet away on her back. He squelched an urge to grab her and pull her onto his cock, and instead, did something much more productive. He cursed her, “Damn you, Princess! All I want to do is fuck you!” Her laugh mocked, and he watched her flip and swim to his side where she clung, pulling on his cock. “Is that such a bad thing, Hill?” “Yeah, well, it just, well… I don’t know!” he thundered in frustration. “You really must learn to trust me.” He couldn’t stand it anymore. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to the edge of the pool and sat her unceremoniously on the stone ledge. She squealed when he shoved her knees apart and buried his head between her thighs. He felt her fingers pulling on his hair while she spoke, “Yes, my love. Yes. I’m yours. Always!” He growled between licks and hated his own enthusiasm. How the hell does she do it? He had to have her. He had to eat her, to taste her on his tongue, to smell her. He had to rut her and wallow in the nectar that swelled from the gash between her legs. Then he had to have more. With a grunt, he slid her along the slick stone edge of the pool, stood on a step, and with one determined move buried his cock. When she grabbed his shoulders and pulled herself up, he could feel it. A low rumble against his chest while he rolled his hips slowly, with determination, and entertained thoughts of fucking her into submission.

Her expression said he’d failed and he tried kissing her into submission. Her hunger spoke of another battle lost, and when she started to squirm and her breath caught, effectively stopping her purr, he knew what awaited him and didn’t resist. With renewed fervor he shoved his cock deep and waited for her to clench. She went rigid and whimpered, and he reveled in filling her with his come. It felt so right, yet left him drained and confused. There was no way he could resist her. “Princess!” He looked across the room and scowled at the young woman that had something draped across her arm. Where the hell did she come from? **** If anyone had been listening, they would have heard Zandill Death Warriors growling, a sound that could easily send a chill up the spine of any life form. What was really happening was a heated discussion concerning final placement of their small parcel. They needed the other side of the crest, which according to their data, was up and over. But moving up and over could be construed as retreat and they didn’t want the Meline speculating about Zandill Death Warriors in retreat. Deciding on a diversion, word went down the line and they prepared. **** Hill pulled on the reins of the animal trying to steady it. He had no idea what it was other than a rather tall and sleek looking bull with close-set horns and very strong legs. Accepting the viewing device, something like binoculars but much better, he searched the other side of the valley more than a mile away until he caught a flash of purple. “My father says they’re not acting like any Zandill Death Warriors he’s ever seen. That as soon as they were spotted, they headed for the hill and didn’t return fire.” Yes, he thought, not what he’d expect either. And they were damned hard to find. Then he caught sight of two of them. They seemed to be heading for the crest carrying something shiny. Then he couldn’t see anything and about four seconds later the ground shook. Pulling the viewers down he watched as a line of rock and orange dirt rolled down the side of the hill. They’d used a laser cutter to start a landslide. Turning to Peenzan, he said urgently, “I need to get down there! And I need a weapon!” He watched the side of the hill settle while she explained to her father. “He says it’s too dangerous…” “Look, those are Death Warriors and I know how to fight them. Tell him I’m going with or without a weapon.” He watched and felt his heart skip a beat when he caught her expression of concern. He guessed he understood her concern, but had no idea why it would affect him the way it did. When she appeared to get into an argument with her father that drug on for more

than a minute, he said, “Fuck it!” and pulled the reins of his mount hard to the right, kicked its ribs, and hunkered down. He was amazed at how smooth the ride was, and he’d covered a kilometer of rough hillside before he knew it. He could see a pair of Meline fighters hunkered down behind a stand of yellow trees mid-plain and headed for them. They seemed more afraid of him than the Zandill as he jumped off his mount, and wild eyed, ran towards them. He found three in the foliage, and he guessed the only reason they didn’t try to kill him was because he’d come riding in on a Meline mount. Communication was impossible, but through hand language that consisted of sighting across a pointed finger and pulling an imaginary trigger, someone grinned and handed him a flute. What the fuck? On close inspection it was less deadly than a flute. It looked like a silver plated stick about the size of a flute. No wonder the Meline have been complaining about Zandill aggressions. One of the Meline caught his look of disbelief and grabbed the stick, placing it in his right hand and closing his fingers around it like a very skinny flashlight, then with his own silver stick, he pointed and made a noise. He guessed that meant point and shoot, but he sure couldn’t find the trigger. While they watched the last of the rubble settle and continued to scan the ridgeline, he took time to assess his comrades in arms. He guessed they weighed about a hundred pounds less than he did and were all as short as Peenzan. But, given the fact they wore nothing but a leather loincloth and sandals, he could tell they were well muscled and would be a formidable foe in a hand-to-hand fight. Of course, he couldn’t recall the last time anyone in the galaxy had fought hand to hand. The viewer got passed back and forth, and they seemed to be excited about something. Shading his eyes he looked up at the ridge and could see nothing. Someone shoved the viewer into his hands, pointed, and then he saw them and something caught his eye. Every elite troop had hand signals they used on the battlefield, something used to maintain stealth and avoid talking, but what the hell were the Zandill doing using Corporate Marine hand signs? Their attack strategy was obvious, and he grabbed one of the Meline by the shoulder and pointed. Staying low, he headed to the left following a row of strange blue shrubs. At the foot of the hill, he looked back to make sure he was being followed and headed up. Finding a stand of rocks for shelter, he waved the Meline in and grabbed the viewer. Scanning the ridgeline and down he found them. Three were headed right for them. Looking down at the grassy meadow they’d come from, he saw a handful of Meline coming out from behind trees and shrubs. Looking back along the side of the ridge he watched the Zandill raise their weapons in one hand, fist their other toward the sky and yell, “Hilo jayee!” Grabbing the shoulder of the Meline nearest him he flattened his palm and held it down indicating they should wait. Then, with a loud crack and a quick whining sound, it started. Two Meline lay dead in the grassy meadow and he had to reach across and grab another of his comrades to keep him from firing. He watched two of the three Zandill headed their way peel off and head down the

hillside. The majority of the Death Warriors had passed them and he finally saw what the silver sticks would do as more Meline appeared, raised their weapons, and shot small blue balls of fire at the Zandill. He wasn’t surprised when the Zandill didn’t even slow down. Getting his Meline comrade’s attention, he turned slightly, reached across his shoulder, and pointed between his shoulder blades. Then he pointed at the backs of the Zandill as they practically ran down the hillside. He grinned like a kid and swatted one of the Meline on the shoulder hard enough to practically send him tumbling when the first Zandill fell. The he felt it. A burn in his left shoulder and turned just in time to catch the scowl on a Zandill Death Warrior’s face as he came over the top of the bolder and fell on him. The Meline scattered and he became aware of rough scaly fingers tightening around his neck. When the Zandill spoke—in English—his blood ran cold, “You’re a fucking traitor, Hillsborough.” He couldn’t make his silver stick shoot, but he brought it up and poked at the face of his opponent until the hands around his neck loosened and he heard a guttural cry of pain. It was all he needed. Pulling away he turned and kicked, following with a balled fist to the Zandill’s face. Not stopping, he stepped into the warrior, hooked his arm around his neck, and stepped past, nestling his knee into the small of the warrior’s back where he pushed. Scaly maws came up and grabbed at his forearm. In spite of the struggle, he managed to catch the eye of one of the Meline that stood frozen staring and looked out across the grassy meadow, urging the fighter to go after the others. When a knife was shoved into his thigh he fell, pulling the warrior with him. He could feel his strength draining and knew it was a matter of seconds before he passed out, unleashing his foe on his Meline comrades. Groping for the knife, he found the hilt and knew it would hurt. Finding the small nub that was a Zandill ear he bit down hard and jerked the knife. Designed with expanding reverse barbs that shot out when pulled backward to do more damage, he nearly passed out from the pain and felt his leg go numb. Scaly fingers were digging at his eyes and his arm throbbed when Hill garnered his remaining strength, and using his knee, shoved the Death Warrior away. Just as his opponent found the ground and squatted to turn, his own vision fading into small yellow stars that danced, Hill brought the bloody knife up and shoved it into the soft purple flesh between the Zandill’s shoulder blades and smiled. **** “Pran!” She could feel her heart pounding and felt frantic. Pointing at her bed, she yelled at the fighters in Meline, “Put him there! Pran!” Two Meline fighters placed him gently, almost reverently, in the middle of the bed. “What is it…” Pran stopped and stared at the bloody mess lying on the bed. “We need a doctor! Someone that knows something about humans! Quick!” “Bast!” she exclaimed and fell on the bed beside him, stroking the side of his head and crying, “Curse you, my love, why did you do it?” “The doctor will arrive shortly.”

“Find my mother!” And Pran was gone again. She touched his cheek and cringed when his head rolled away, his jaw slack, his eyes not quite closed. Finding the shallow beat of his heart with her palm she cried softly into his bloody shoulder. “Let me see, Princess,” came a voice and she felt hands gently pull her away. She stood shaking at the edge of the bed and watched the doctor poke and probe. “My dear. My love.” She turned on her mother, and voice low and menacing, said, “I will kill them all.” “Come, let the doctor do his job. We can only wait and pray to Bast that she would smile down on him.” She felt her mother tug on her arm, but resisted. “But what can we do, mother? He’s human! He could actually die!” “Shhhh.” Her mother tried to calm her. “I need your help. A Mr. Crenshaw is here.” It was like a slap to her face. Turning on her mother, she demanded, “Where is he?” One last longing look at her fallen warrior and she followed her mother. **** Crossing the foyer in long strides, she stepped between her father and Mr. Crenshaw, and eyes burning with anger, slapped the man as hard as she could and demanded, “What do you want?” She watched him stagger back, eyes angry and neck blushing, and raise his hand to his cheek like a rebuffed child. Her gaze didn’t waiver when a UC Marine lowered his weapon and cocked it. Four Meline warriors surrounded the Marine and her father spoke quickly. She ignored him and demanded a second time, “What do you want, Mr. Crenshaw?” She wanted to spit on the man when he smiled and offered, “Why, Princess, we came to help you fight. I have an entire regiment with me.” She could see it in his eyes. He was lying and she said so plainly. “You lie.” “Believe me, Princess, as soon as we caught it on the newscasts, we brought a fully equipped regiment to help you fight. I’ve also come to offer…” “We want nothing from the United Corporation!” “If you’d just let me explain…” Spinning on her heel, she addressed her father in Meline, “Throw him out! And make sure he takes his regiment with him!” “Daughter,” her father scolded, which angered her more. “Is this how a Meline diplomat is to act?” “But, Father…” A uniformed man appeared out of breath carrying a small box with a red cross in a white circle and demanded, “Where’s the wounded?” She turned from her father, regarded Crenshaw, then in a huff said, “Follow me.”

Chapter Four The only smell was antiseptic and he felt his chest tighten with a feeling of loss. When he opened his eyes, the room was dark and he heard people talking far away. When he tried to raise his left hand, a pain shot through his shoulder and told him to stop. As things came into focus, he realized he was in a regiment infirmary. Was I injured in battle? Hallucinogenics? Trying his right hand, he reached for his leg and found a healing pad stuck to his thigh. A knife wound? Zandill? Was there a beautiful princess? Was it all a dream? Wasn’t he meant for someone? His heart pounded and he felt feverish. He was completely lost and had no idea why. He was torn between jumping from the bed to find his lost dream and crying when he heard a whisper, “I’m here.” Her smiling face appeared and he was overcome with relief. Touching her cheek he whispered, “It was all true, wasn’t it?” “Shhhhh.” Her finger crossed his lips and he could smell her. His heart settled and he smiled back. “Where am I?” “On the Queen. The moon. At the Corporation mining hospital.” Then it all came rushing back. The Princess. No, his princess. Her room. The chiming water. The battle. “We’ve got to get out of here.” He tried to push up. “But you can’t, my love. They say you need at least two more days.” “How long have I been here?” “Not more than a day.” Shoving her away, he sat on the edge of the hospital bed and immediately regretted it when his head started spinning and he wanted to throw up. “Please, my love, lie back and let them fix you. I thought I’d lost…” Pushing her hands away, he found an IV drip tube and pulled it out, leaving a small spot of blood on his arm. When his feet hit the cool floor his desire to throw up became reality and he heaved into a waste can. His heart pounded in his head and he could feel her hands on his back, but ignored them. His world spun when he finally pushed off the bed and he had to grab for her shoulder to steady himself. Something wasn’t right. No matter how badly he’d been wounded, with today’s medicine, I shouldn’t be feeling like this. He wasn’t sure how long he could stand up but he knew he had to tell her quickly. “Hill, darling…” “Listen.” It came out as a croak but he didn’t give up. “Listen, we have to get back to the planet immediately.” He swayed and squelched another desire to throw up, and when she didn’t move he demanded angrily, “Now! Get me to the planet now!” When that didn’t work, he hung his head on her shoulder and pleaded softly, “If all that stuff you said about Bast and love is true, if you and I are really destined to be together, you’ll get me to the planet before they kill me.” His last thought was slumping into his Meline princess and thrilling at the smell of

her hair. **** “I don’t care what your doctors say, Mr. Crenshaw. It is my desire to take my mate home and I will do so. Now get out of my way.” She hated herself for what she’d just said. Her own doctor had given up on her warrior, her mate, as dead and it had been the UC medical officer that had known how to bring his heart back to life and save him. A skill they’d never needed on Meline. She’d never left his side and watched closely as they’d brought his heart back to life, repaired his wounds, and said with a smile, “He’ll be fine. He just needs to rest and time to heal.” How could he demand this of me? “But, Princess…” She looked down at her one true love passed out on a stretcher being carried by two Meline warriors, then looked back at Crenshaw, “Let me say how much I appreciate everything you’ve done, but it is the Meline way. He will return to the palace with me at once.” When Crenshaw relented, she shoved past him and stepped into the transporter with the Meline warriors following. “If you insist, Princess. But please.” Crenshaw stepped into the transporter with them, holding up a small glass vial. “Be sure to give him this every six hours. It will keep his wounds from becoming infected.” She hated accepting Crenshaw’s help as much as she hated leaving the infirmary, but took the small vial and said, “The Meline people thank you, Mr. Crenshaw.” **** He’d only heard them once before, but he recognized the night sounds of Meline immediately. Rolling to his side, he was confronted by a smiling Peenzan, “How do you feel, my love?” He wasn’t sure. His shoulder hurt less and his thigh none at all. Falling back on the mattress he breathed deep and smiled. His world was right again and he gave up on understanding why. But he hadn’t forgotten. “I need you to help me up.” “No! You’re doctor said…” “Now!” He cringed when she appeared at his feet, hand outstretched and a hurt look on her face. It was a struggle, and it made him dizzy and sick. “How long have we been here?” She sounded mad, but answered, “Only a few hours. You need to rest.” Falling back on the bed, his head throbbing, he whispered, “Pull it off.” Her face appeared, her concern real. “What?” He swallowed and tried again, “Pull the pad off my thigh.” “But…” “Now, dammit!” he roared.

He closed his eyes to stop the spinning and felt her fingers digging at the edge of the adhesive healing pad. When it came away he heard a gasp. “Forget it,” he said. “Now get the other one off my shoulder.” He was afraid he’d throw up if he opened his eyes and just lay there following dips in the mattress as she moved around and peeled the other pad off. “Now get me to the pool so I can wash off and go find your doctor.” “But…” His big hand closed around her arm and pulled her close, “Do you really love me or was that just some fairytale you told me?” She looked frightened and he hated himself. When she whispered that she did, he added softly, “Then please, Princess, do what I ask.” He felt better in the chiming pool and let the water take his weight. When the doctor arrived he explained, “They’ve poisoned me. Take the pads and see if you can figure out what it is.” Peenzan translated, then helped him out of the pool to the bench and he asked her to turn the lights up. They both inspected his red ugly wounds, which in fact were healing nicely, and he asked for his clothes, four Meline fighters, and her father. “But, my love, what on Meline for?” His world was spinning less and his stomach had settled some. He touched her cheek and let his lips brush hers before gently replying, “Because I love you.” When she purred loudly he felt even better. **** His clothes had been cut off by the Medic, and he was stuck with a leather loincloth and a royal robe. He hated the sandals and finally kicked them off. When Peenzan had insisted on coming along, he hadn’t had the strength to argue with her. He had no idea where the energy came from that made his cock swell against her ass as she sat in front of him on their strange ride, guiding the animal along the rocky trail. Her father rode beside them and said something which she translated, “He wants to thank you for helping in the battle.” He really didn’t feel like speaking, but managed, “I was glad I could help.” The Queen moon was high overhead and he watched the queen’s daughter race by. He didn’t know what it was or what it would do, but he wished they’d get there. Leaning close, he felt her purr and whispered, “We have to hurry.” “But you’re not strong enough. It might hurt you.” He let his nose wander through her platinum locks and felt at peace, “We may not have time. Make it go faster.” And she did. **** From the crest above the battle, he looked down the other side. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but was fairly certain he’d recognize it when he saw it. “Help me down.” She seemed resigned to his demands, but still managed to protest while she

complied. “You are a fool. You should be in our bed getting better.” “I need more light.” After an exchange with the fighters, they gathered around and held their silver sticks out. A bright glow fell off the end making the immediate area as bright as daylight. Then he saw it. About three meters below the crest a large metal tube was sticking out of the ground. He didn’t think he could walk down the side without falling and sat instead. Pointing, he said, “Tell them to be very careful and dig that thing out.” He watched the men work while Peenzan sat beside him holding his hand and the King stood by his side, a hand resting on his shoulder. He tried to remember where he’d seen a tube like that before, but it just wouldn’t come to him. When one of the men looked up and said something, he said, “Tell him to wait and tell me exactly what he sees.” “He says it has Zandill markings and that there’s a small screen with figures moving on it.” “Does anyone here read Zandill?” “I do.” Whatever it was, he was sure it wasn’t good and he had an illogical aversion to her getting any closer, as if three meters might save her. It did no good. She was on her knees squinting before he could say anything. “It has numbers and they’re counting down.” “A timer. How much time is left?” “In Zandill time there’s…” When she didn’t answer he insisted, “How much time?” “I’m not sure. They have a thirteen-hour day and only forty-seven seconds in a minute. Something like thirty-five minutes Meline time.” “What’s that in earth time?” “Twenty-eight I think.” He just wanted to go to sleep. He wanted to close his eyes and curl up on the hard ground. He wanted to forget everything, but he couldn’t. Was he being a traitor? Or was he fighting the Zandill? “Where’s the closest transporter?” “At the palace.” “How long?” “I told you,” Peenzan sounded desperate. “No! To get there!” When no one answered he explained quickly, “You have to get it to a transporter and blind transport it to someplace uninhabited. An asteroid, a moon, the vacuum of space. Any place. And you have to do it before the time reaches zero.” Peenzan gave orders and two of the fighters rode off in a cloud of dust balancing the bomb between them. With a grunt he rolled to the ground and closed his eyes. **** He’d soundly rejected the liquid in the vials Crenshaw had sent, and instead sent them to the doctor to be checked as well. In spite of that, she’d seen his wounds continue

to heal and his strength return. The doctor finally reported. It was an Andrine plant poison that would have taken a week to very slowly and very painfully kill him. She’d watched him sleep for a day and a night, and then eat as much as any three Meline fighters would, and now he was telling her he had to get to Zandill. “Why on earth would you want to go to Zandill?” “Because you need their help.” “The Zandill! Never!” Then he‘d walked off to the bathing pool and refused to tell her more. Shoving her robe off her shoulders, she stepped into the water with him and announced, “Then I’m going with you.” “You can’t,” he said and disappeared beneath the water. She floated around and waited. When he came up and grabbed her, finding her lips with his, she knew she’d already won. “You can’t go without me.” “Why not?” he asked and let his hands wander down to her back-fall. She purred, watched his eyes go dreamy, and said smugly, “That’s why.” **** This is nuts. What the hell am I doing here? Peenzan stood beside him in full royal regalia, defiant to the end, and Peenzan’s handmaiden, of all people, stood behind them both. Hill hadn’t understood the conversation, but he had captured the king’s anger when Peenzan had explained what he wanted to do. If looks could kill, he’d be dead. Oddly enough it had been the queen that had stepped close, looked him directly in the eye, and given the command. There was no direct communication between the two worlds, and other than a blind jump, something he considered entirely too dangerous, there was no way to transport directly to a Zandill transporter station. They had to transport to another world, one with relations with Zandill, then transport in. A small complication, but doable. Peenzan said something and they were suddenly standing in a Rangdon transporter station, and a creature half the size of Peenzan was standing, hand outstretched, waiting for them. He didn’t know the language, but he did understand the custom and stepped up to touch the Rangdon’s fingertips. Peenzan and Pran did likewise, and when Pran engaged the creature in conversation, he understood why she’d accompanied them. He looked around the brightly lit transporter bay and noticed no one seemed to pay any particular attention to them. As the spice of choice in the known galaxy, he was sure Rangdon received a lot of off-world visitors. When Peenzan pulled his arm, he stepped back into the transporter and saw that Pran had stayed behind. He steeled himself for what would happen next while he watched the diminutive creature step up to the flat screen that controlled the transporter and move his fingertips across its surface quickly. In spite of the UC’s presence on their moon and good solid diplomatic relations, the Zandill were an odd lot and he was bringing something along they might not be too happy about. A Meline princess.

Pran and the well-lit transporter bay disappeared, to be replaced by a dark dank cave and two very surprised Zandill Warriors. They stared long enough for him to step forward and give the traditional Zandill warrior greeting by fisting his left hand over his heart and looking at the floor. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but understood what was bothering them when they ignored him completely and walked several times around Peenzan. Now for the hard part. He doubted seriously he would easily find a Zandill that spoke English, but he was sure they’d recognize him and his language as human, and hoped whoever discovered them would take them to someone else that did. “We come in peace and I would like to speak with your commander.” The two Zandill only grunted and pointed their weapons at Peenzan, and looked at him. He tried again. “I would like to speak with your commander.” When Peenzan started speaking the guttural language, her left hand stabbing the air with the accompanying Zandill hand gestures, he was amazed. When one of the Zandill warriors engaged her and the conversation went on much longer than was needed to convey his message, he became concerned. He watched as the second guard stepped away and raised a small communications device to his mouth to speak. Then, as quickly as it started, it was over and the two guards stepped back and watched them both in silence. Before he could ask Peenzan what she’d said, a Zandill, small of stature and dressed in something Hill could only describe as less casual than body armor, appeared. His mouth contorted in the crooked wink of a Zandill smile and he extended his hand to Hill in the traditional earth greeting of a handshake. “You must be Sergeant Hillsborough. I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Zad.” While the cutthroat tactics of their warriors were famous most everywhere in the galaxy, little was known about the people as a whole, and Hill felt completely out of his depth at reading the man’s sincerity, or more importantly, lack of it. “Stanley Hillsborough and,” he said, stepping aside and raising a hand, “Princess Peenzan Fanston of the planet Meline.” Zad dropped Hill’s hand and extended it to the princess, “Yes, Princess. How good to see you’re alive and well. We were all very concerned after the incident on UC-1. How lucky you were to avoid such a deadly fate.” At first he thought Peenzan might not return the greeting, and breathed a small sigh of relief when her hand came up and she responded in Zandill. Zad smiled and looked at him before complimenting the princess in English, “Your Zandill is excellent, Princess.” “As is your English,” she replied. Hill was getting antsy and wanted to move things along. Clearing his throat he ventured, “We’d like to apologize for showing up unannounced, but I believe I have some information that might be of importance to your people.” Zad smiled and said, “But of course.” “And how the hell do you know who I am?” Zad laughed, which came out as a dry bark, and said something to the two guards before addressing Hill, “Why, you’re the Zandill spy, of course. And…” he turned to the two guards and gave a hand signal, “…instead of killing her, you’ve brought her to us.”

As the two guards stepped up and grabbed the princess, four more flooded into the transporter room and surrounded him. **** Blake was furious. He couldn’t believe the Meline news channels hadn’t reported anything yet. It had already been more than three days and there should be a pandemic ravaging the Meline population by now. First the Omega unit gets wiped out, and then there’s no mention of a mysterious illness or similar catastrophe on that god-forsaken planet. He’d already checked with RandD, and they swore their mix was tested and proven. It just made no sense. It had to be Hillsborough. When his wall D chimed he barked an order and fell in the chair where he could see and be seen. When Lighton, the chairman’s assistant appeared walking around her bedroom wearing nothing but a smile, he stiffened and waited. “So, Blake, what news do you have for the chairman?” Reporting failure to the chairman was one thing, but reporting it to Lucy Lighten, the devil incarnate, was quite another. He knew she already knew the answer to the question. She just wanted him to say it. “Look, Lucy, why do you even ask? You already know the answer,” he replied flatly while he watched her lifelike image walk across her quarters to her closet and hang something up. “Well, you know, Blake. I just like to stay on top of things,” she replied with a smirk. Yeah, he thought, things like the chairman. He took in the bounce of her breasts as she crossed the room and picked something up from the floor, giving him a wellchoreographed view of her ass, and wondered why the old man hadn’t died of a cardiac yet. He knew she was well into midlife, somewhere north of a hundred, and she still looked thirty, which given the current state of healthcare, wasn’t all that unusual. It was just that she carried it so well. It pissed him off that even while she was ridiculing him, his cock seemed to have a mind of its own. “Well, you’ve had your laugh, Lucy. Is there anything else I can do for you?” When she sauntered toward her D unit, her image stepping out of the wall to tower over him, a short black riding whip snapping on her thigh, he knew he’d asked the wrong question. Her perfect white teeth shined behind her sneer, and snapping the whip across her open palm, she leaned in and said, “I think you know the drill. You’ve been a very bad boy, Blake.” **** He’d managed to stun one guard with a blow between the shoulder blades and now they had him shackled in an ornately adorned room standing in front of a table before Zad. When he pulled, his arms bulging, the two guards stepped close and nudged him with their weapons. Blind with rage he yelled, “Where the hell have you taken her?” “Now, now, Sergeant Hillsborough, you really shouldn’t be worried about the

princess. You’ve completed your mission! And, might I add, you’ve done a wonderful job! Why, I’m sure our Premier will want to pin the Medal of Honor on your chest himself!” “You know I don’t work for the Zandill!” “But I saw it with my own eyes. Your chairman said it himself at a news conference,” came out in a sarcastic slur. He was getting tired of the slimy bastard, “That’s bullshit! Besides…” Hill turned brusquely, managing to knock one of the guards off balance and stuck his shackled hands out, “…is this any way to treat a hero of Zandill?” “But the bomb you placed at the Corporation dinner. Why, they’re still running the footage on the news. I saw you there sitting in the very chair that blew up! I really must say again how wonderful it is to meet the most famous Zandill spy in history.” He saw red. This time when his big arms bulged, he was rewarded with a satisfying snap and the chain that ran from his ankles to his wrists broke. The guards scrambled away and brought their weapons up, a muzzle resting against each side of his head. He didn’t care. Struggling to take a step, he leaned across the table until it groaned under his weight, looked Zad in the eye, and said in a low menacing voice, “If the princess is harmed in any way, I will kill you myself. Very slowly.” The only sound in the room was his own breathing and he watched in amazement as Zad smiled broadly, jumped up from his seat, and gave an order to the two guards. When the shackles fell away, he grabbed one guard around the neck and managed to kick the other in the groin. Pulling his arm tight, he watched Zad stand passively, still smiling, and realized the guards weren’t putting up much of a fight. “Where is she?” he bellowed. He looked suspiciously at the other guard, who was standing out of reach with a pained expression on his face. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned in time to catch Zad stepping toward him with a very ornate Zandill Warrior knife in his outstretched hand. Tightening his arm around his captive’s neck he dragged the struggling warrior back a step to put more space between him and Zad. “Stop! I’ll kill him! Then I’ll kill you!” “And I believe you would,” Zad stated in a matter-of-fact tone just before laying the knife on the corner of the table nearest Hill. He brought his hand up in a quick chopping motion and hit his captive under the chin with his forearm, provoking a coughing fit. In one swift move, he flung the guard toward the other and jumped, sweeping the knife up in his right hand. Before he could take another step, Zad raised his hand and waved the two guards out of the room. It must be a trap. Knife at the ready, Hill looked quickly around the chamber for more Warriors. “I must apologize, Sergeant Hillsborough. I had to know.” When he fixed Zad again, he took in the man’s passive stance, his hands at his side, feet planted flat on the hard stone floor, his expression neutral, and looked around the big room one more time. “You see, Sergeant Hillsborough, things aren’t always what they seem. You could well have been a spy sent to us by the Corporation.” Then he heard her lilting laugh and spun on his heel to find Peenzan walking into the

room in the company of the first Zandill female he’d ever seen. A stunning woman who carried herself with pride, almost stately, who was laughing at something Peenzan must have said. Turning back to Zad, he found the man standing at the table once again smiling benevolently. “What is this? What’s going on here?” “I really must apologize once more, Sergeant. It took either a fool, or a very brave and desperate man to do what you did. I had to know which it was. Or, of course, a spy.” Peenzan was at his side grasping his arm, and the moment she purred softly he felt his muscles relax, “It’s alright, my love, I’m fine.” “But…” Zad stepped up and offered his hand a second time. “Again let me apologize.” He bowed deeply. “It is my honor, as Premier of Zandill, to welcome you to our planet, Sergeant Hillsborough.” “But…” The Zandill woman had stepped to the premier’s side and announced something in her native tongue. Peenzan translated, “And now we must eat. It is the Zandill custom.” **** In another chamber at a much larger table surrounded by Zandill and music from another world, she looked across the broad expanse of fine china, sparkling crystal, and gleaming silver, and watched Hill perched awkwardly on his chair running his spoon through his soup. He seems so certain and self-confident, yet completely uncomfortable with the situation. She didn’t read fear, an emotion she doubted he knew. Impatience? She smiled at the premier’s sister sitting beside Hill, tasted her soup, and went over what she could recall of Meline history and their relationship with Zandill. She knew that the Meline people were the first to discover light-beam riding, and in turn, the first to venture out of their own solar system and wander the galaxy. Earth and Rangdon had been visited, off and on, over the last 10,000 years, but Zandill had remained hidden until Earth, more precisely the Corporation, had discovered how to bend space and perfected the instant transport system that dominated galactic travel today. And Zandill as a planet had remained shrouded in mystery even after entering the Galactic Union of Trade and Investigation. Very few, if any, off-planet visitors were allowed. A planet half the size of Meline with a known population of less than thirty-two million, their history still hadn’t been absorbed into the great Galactic Union history banks for correlation with all known histories to further galactic understanding of how life in the universe evolved and migrated. Their relationship with Zandill was relatively young, less than 200 years, and a diplomatic incident almost 70 years ago, just before she’d been born, had brought an abrupt end to what had been a flourishing cultural and economic exchange. An odd mix of medieval earth and something like the Handrac industrial revolution period, Zandill was an eclectic mix of landlords, war lords and technology lords. From feudalism to capitalism to technal-ism, the face of the planet and its people had changed drastically in the last 100 years. And, as luck would have it, the expansion of capitalism and a new industrial base had put a strain on an already weak eco system,

leaving Zandill on the cusp of a meltdown with constant droughts, water shortages, dry winds that hampered crop production, and lightening storms that provided a source of fire for the tinderbox the surface had become. Then they’d become aggressive, or so the story went. In a state visit to Meline to discuss aid in the form of keely-landac crystals, abundant and unused on the King moon, to stabilize and rebuild their eco system, the very premier who was lavishing them with food and drink, had kidnapped her aunt and was responsible for the death of her aunt’s life mate. There had been angry words, an angrier war, and a permanent break in diplomatic ties between the two worlds that was still in place today. Slicing a bite of lundan yellow meat, she dipped it in sauce and contemplated the man who had brought such contempt and anger to both worlds. She found his features harsh, but oddly attractive in spite of no body hair, a purple tinged scaly skin that was smooth and featureless beyond a spider web of overlapping contact points, his eyes intelligent, and at times, mirthful. He carried himself with the measured grace of a warrior, but did not have the build of one. Premier by birthright spoke of royal blood, but he lacked the arrogance and disdain many royals harbored. And his sister was a delight. Comfortable with her position, even witty, and concerned first with the Zandill people, second with her brother the premier, and lastly, if at all, with herself. She felt a need to speak with her mother and learn more. When the Premier stood and raised his goblet, and with a warm smile in her direction, said, “To the lovely Princess Peenzan. A Meline flower on this godforsaken rock! Stokah! And hopefully not the last we will see!” She smiled and replied with the Meline equivalent, “Hytonne!” Turning to Hill, the premier continued, “And to a man, even if he is a mere earthling.” And a smattering of good-natured laughter traveled around the table. “I believe him to be a most worthy advisor, and if such a thing is possible in the corporation, a man of honor! To Sergeant Hillsborough! Stokah!” She felt it start and blushed, hoping no one else caught the soft purr of pride that rattled her chest. At the same time she felt a tug of anguish when she saw Hill raise his goblet awkwardly and join in. No, my Hill is not a man of presumptions and pride. He is a simple man of honor and deed. When her purr deepened, she did not try to hide it. **** “Well, I think we must act quickly. What do you think, Blake?” Sitting at his D screen in his cramped quarters on the Meline moon, he cringed at the question. He hated it when his opinion was sought. It meant only one thing. That blame would follow if things didn’t go as planned. It would be his head that rolled if the insurgence failed. As well, he knew, the reward would be just as great if he could pull this off. “I think we have no choice. We must move quickly before the Meline learn the truth.” “My thoughts exactly. Now, how do you plan on taking care of this, well, situation?” He watched the chairman drag his finger through his tray of Rangdon spice and

wondered why he even bothered to report to the man. When he caught sight of Lucy Lighton over the chairman’s shoulder, he knew exactly why. **** The room was dark with huge windows on three of four walls that looked out on a dry and barren landscape of exposed black soil dotted with stunted trees that were twisted and sad looking. She could barely hear the howl of the wind and watched sheets of dust swirl from tree to tree. A traditional fire of chopped roughhewn wood burned and crackled in a fireplace on the fourth wall and it was just the four of them. Spaced around the walls above and beside the windows hung weapons and trophies, a strange and startling display of Zandill wildlife that spoke of a long history of hunting and aggression. On a table she saw a small collection of medals, and on another a collection of static 3D pictures of Zandill men in uniforms and state dress. The furnishings were utilitarian and made of roughhewn wood. The finery of the state dinner had been replaced by the bare essentials of a man’s room, or she thought, the lair of a warrior. Her goblet was heavy and worn, the floor covered in the resplendent fur of some animal, and the air smelled of centuries of sweat and wood smoke. Her purr had settled but not subsided completely, and she took pride in watching Hill follow the Premier around the room, taking interest in each artifact’s history as family stories and antidotes were told. He looks at ease, comfortable at last. A full head taller than the premier, his shoulders twice as wide, they made an odd pair hefting swords and bludgeons, and sipping Zandill brandy. The premier’s sister had left to tend to something and Peenzan was growing impatient, and given the state of things between her thighs, needy. When Hill’s eyes found her and he smiled, she stepped up to listen. “…my grandfather. He carried it during the dark-star conflict over 500 of your earth years ago. A beautiful piece of craftsmanship.” She watched Hill heft the sword and swing it away from them while saying, “I really don’t know much of your history, but something has been bothering me for a few days and that’s why we’re here.” The premier smiled. He knew this wasn’t the reason for his visitor’s presence, but it was a place to start. “Ah, you’ve come for a lesson in history. And Zandill history, at that! Wonderful!” She watched Hill sheath the weapon and waited. “Well, I’ve fought Zandill Death Warriors. I was involved in the conflict at the UC moon base a few years ago.” “Yes.” The premier was attentive. “Most unfortunate, that. Some, I believe you would call them rabble-rousers, that thought we would be better off expelling the UC and keeping something we have absolutely no use for to ourselves.” “Well, that’s the part of history I don’t understand. Why would the Zandill, a proud people, a fiercely independent people, allow a foreign world to fight a conflict for them? More importantly, something that should have been a very personal conflict, at that?”

She slid her hand around her lover’s arm and noticed he had tensed slightly. This is it? This is what we’ve come for? So he can ask a question about the protocols of war and war making? She’d had enough and was prepared to say so, until she caught a defiant glance followed by one of resignation from the premier. When the premier finally spoke, the life, the spark of mirth, the very soul was gone from his voice. “Yes,” he agreed, “Why would we?” “I’ve made arrangements.” The premier’s sister came sweeping into the room. “You will be staying in…” The premier wandered aimlessly to a window and stood with his back to the room, hands clasped behind his back, watching dust devils dance on the barren soil beyond. Hill gently lifted her hand, kissed her cheek, and left her standing alone. Stepping up beside the premier she heard him say, “I want to help.” “Why would you? Why on Zandill, or any planet for that matter, would anyone want to?” The premier sounded angry and hurt. She couldn’t imagine what they were talking about. Looking at the premier’s sister standing close to the fire, she watched a sadness fall on the woman’s shoulders like a stone and a single tear roll down a weary cheek. She couldn’t stand it anymore. “What? Help with what? I must ask that you forgive me, Premier, but you’ve been raiding our planet and killing our people for the last six months. Why on Meline would anyone want to help you?” “Because it wasn’t the Zandill that raided your planet.” Hill’s response made no sense. “But I saw them! You saw them! They were there!” Hill remained mute and waited. The premier finally stepped away from the window, rubbed his hands together as if warming them, and smiled. “Yes, Princess, so I have heard. Here, sit with me by the fire and I will explain.”

Chapter Five Crenshaw marveled at the carpet of Zandill warriors that covered the floor of the cavernous shipping base on the Queen moon of Meline. Leaning over the railing, he could make out neatly sorted piles of arms and munitions waiting to be picked up as the Death Warriors streamed into the transporters to reappear in the royal sector below on the Meline planet. No, he thought, there will be no mistakes this time. No bomb planting or theatrics. They would simply sweep in, kill everyone in sight, the royal family included, and put up the Zandill flag. Then, with the royals gone, the UC can come to the rescue, banish the Zandill forever, and walk away with whatever they want from a grateful planet. Did it really matter that they wanted the entire planet? Yes, he decided, a hundred thousand should do the trick nicely. When Lucy Lighton leaned close he shivered. “How soon will it start?” she asked. Looking at his watch, he explained. “Nightfall is in ten hours. We’ll wait till then.” Her hand ran down his back, across his ass, and between his thighs where she grabbed a handful of material and balls, and squeezed, “Good. That gives us at least eight hours to negotiate.” **** She couldn’t believe it. It can’t be true. How could they have? How could her father have denied Bast? It was blasphemy! “No, this can’t be!” “I know it must be a shock, Princess, but I swear by Djark that all I tell you is true. And, if you prefer, I will swear by Bast as well!” Hill had settled beside her on the large couch facing the fireplace, and it was his arm around her shoulders that provided an anchor in this storm of lies and untruths. She was adamant, “It can not be done! No Meline would allow it! You lie!” Zad only smiled and looked at his sister sitting in an armchair a few feet away. Finally, with a note of belligerence, he offered, “Ask your father.” “Even if it were true, it does not explain the Zandill Death Warriors that have been invading my planet!” “You are right, Princess, it doesn’t. But, truth be known, I could barely muster enough Warriors for a good hunting party on this Djark forsaken planet, much less invade another…” “But the Zandill are the most feared warriors in the galaxy!” She jumped up, planted her feet, and stared down incredulously at the premier. “Your kill rate is highest, your warriors the bravest, and your arsenal of weapons the deepest…” “And how I wish that were true.” The Premier came to his feet and walked back to the window where he rocked on his heels, silent and somber. “You deny conquering a million soldiers with less than a hundred thousand in the dark-star wars?”

“Of course not,” Zad shot back. “Was it not the Zandill that quelled civil unrest in the Blue moon system only sixty years ago? And you did it with less than two hundred death warriors against more than two hundred thousand rebels!” “You know much of Zandill’s history, Princess,” came out as a sarcastic accusation, then Zad added, “About the Zandill raiding your planet, you might want to ask the good sergeant. I believe that is what really brought him here.” Her head felt light and she knew all semblance of self-control was gone, “I know enough to know you are telling me nothing but lies and more lies! No wonder my father doesn’t trust you!” When the premier spun on his heel, she saw Hill jump to his feet and felt the warmth of his body against hers as he took up post against her back. The arrogant prick stopped short and growled, “Your father, Princess, is a stubborn bigoted ass, but he certainly is not stupid and I would guess his daughter isn’t stupid either. You don’t believe me?” She sniffed as if a foul stench had come close and said simply, “No, I don’t.” “Then find him! Bring him here! Ask him to his face!” “So you can kill him? Ha, you think me a fool!” She cringed when the premier stepped closer and stated flatly between clenched teeth, “If what I say is true, I would die before I could harm a Meline and you know it.” Hills big hand fell on her shoulder and she suddenly realized the premier’s wild-eyed look was not unbridled arrogance, but overwhelming desperation, and her resolve wavered. The premier’s sister stepped up and touched his shoulder, her voice soft, imploring, “Zad. Let it be. You must not torture yourself like this.” Zad jerked away and unsheathed the sword he and Hill had been inspecting earlier, and blade in hand, offered it to Hill.”Here, he can kill me if he suspects anything! I will not resist! Now find him and bring him here!” She looked at Hill and found her rock, calm but attentive, his big hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword, the blade glinting menacingly in the firelight. **** He didn’t know what they expected him to do. As a voting member of the board of the directors in charge of expansion, Jandron Finnegan went over the projections a third time and cursed. How can this be? While building a deep space vessel capable of two hundred times the speed of light and housing a billion people was a daunting task in and of itself, doing it ten times was overwhelming. And then this. How on earth could they expect him to meet the production schedule if the soil needed, a special mix of inorganic material, silicates, and zinc, was not made available as promised? Without the soil there would be no ceramic outer skin to protect the starship’s vulnerable cargo from the ravages of hitting a grain of sand at 37.25 million miles per hour in the vacuum of space. He sighed and set the production schedule aside, and fished out another report that was just as distressing. The helium 3 currently under contract in the known galaxy would be just enough to get the ten ships halfway to their targets. Then the light-beam drives

would go dark, the ships artificial eco system would fail, and everyone would slowly freeze to death. Turning to his D screen, he punched up the chairman’s office and asked for an emergency board meeting. **** It had been a long day, and Peenzan was tired and angry and needy. She alternately cursed and blessed Bast for her mate whose imposing presence kept her chest rattling and had her so wet she wondered if she’d start chiming. The transporter room which was really only a big cavern carved out of solid rock below the surface of the planet, the same room they’d arrived in earlier, was depressing and in spite of her misgivings about the wild claims the Premier had made, she felt sorry for the Zandill people and the dead ravaged state of their planet. Even under such harsh circumstances, Hill’s hand finding hers brought a smile to her face and she selfishly leaned into his arm, and if only for a few heartbeats, let her purr run wild. When the premier’s sister looked over and smiled, almost knowingly, she leaned away quickly and swallowed hard. Bast! I hate you Bast! I will always hate you! You are a… The hum of the transporter saved Bast from further verbal abuse, and she was shocked to find the transporter filled with Meline fighters and a very frightened Pran. Before anyone could speak the fighters, ten of them, filled the receiving chamber, weapons at the ready and Pran ran to her side. “Princess! How can this be? The Queen and King are coming! Here! To Zandill!” Before she could respond, the transporter hummed again, and in full royal regalia, her mother and father appeared along with a handful of aids and two more Meline fighters. And no one else. Turning on the premier she scoffed, “See! She didn’t even come with them! You lied!” Then she felt it. At first she thought it was her own chest and swallowed to stifle the rumble, but it reverberated off the rock walls and filled the cavernous room. When the woman stepped forward, she didn’t recognize her. She had never, in her entire life, seen her aunt dressed in anything but her black robe of mourning. Her jaw dropped and she stared openly when her aunt ran into the premier’s arms crying. Her mother smiled and when she found her father’s eyes he looked away. She was on him in two strides. “How could you!” Her mother stepped up and touched her shoulder. “Be kind, Daughter. There is more you do not know.” “But how could he deny that which Bast ordained?” “There, there, my child. At last it has been fixed.” Her mother touched her chest. “I think you have more important things to tend to.” **** As soon as the premier’s sister pulled the two heavy doors shut, she was kissing him while his hands explored her back, his fingers playing with her back-fall. In spite of his size she shoved on his chest and pounded his shoulder until he backed into the middle of

the room. She came alive with the feel of his hands on her skin, and they both tore and tugged at each other’s clothing. She moaned when his mouth found hers with a hunger that said he felt the same need, the same desires she did. She kissed his chest and let her hands slide down his arms. Looking frantically to one side, she saw an elegant wardrobe before his mouth found hers again and insisted. “Yes, my love,” she managed before his lips stifled her words. When his big hands found her ass and pulled her against his body, his hard cock trapped against her stomach, she managed to look to the other side and saw only an ornately carved stone slab that stood a foot above the floor with an animal skin thrown on it. “The bed! Where’s the…” She sighed, grabbing his shoulders to climb up and get a peek at the rest of the room. A low guttural sound came out when she found no bed. Too late! His beautiful brown eyes fixed hers as, standing in the middle of the room, his hands cupped beneath her ass, her back-fall swishing around his knees, he dropped her onto his cock. Her feet locked behind his ass, and she squeezed while she pulled on his neck and floated on the feeling. He was like a mountain she could climb on, and she thought wickedly, fuck to my heart’s content. When her world spun she clung to him, when his knees hit the floor pushing his cock deeper she grunted and felt her chest explode in a fit of purring. She loved his strength, his power, the way he held her and searched her face with his mouth until he found hers. But most of all she loved his unbridled hunger. When he pushed her back on the floor and rode her hard, his cock seemingly possessed, all coherent thought melted into a burning glow that filled her mind with only one purpose. She grunted and pushed against his sweaty body, her hands sliding on his back, her existence numbing into the electric surge of her own climax while his eyes still searched for hers, never left hers, bore into her soul. His harsh grunts and groans were a symphony, his heavy breathing a director’s baton that she followed until her head filled with a mad rush, her breath caught, her purring stopped, and her cunt exploded, taking her with it. His form melted into an ethereal blur of color with eyes that never let her disappear and she willed him to join her, to find the edge and jump over. Then she felt a swelling against her contractions, a warm wet rush, and heard him grunt. “Yes, my love,” was all she managed. He froze, and the only movement she felt was another swelling of his cock and a spread of warmth through her womb. My tree, she thought, my mountain. There was no clear line between conscious thought and her dreams, only a warm glow and one word. Mate **** He smiled when her lids dropped on her slightly crossed eyes. He found no doubts or hesitation when the word love popped into his head, and laying his head between her

breasts, enjoying her purr, he whispered it reverently like a penance. “Love.” She stirred and he found a brown nipple where he licked and said it again. “Love.” Taking in the room, he let her head drop gently to the floor and watched her curl into a ball, her knees pulled up around her chest and her chin tilted down. Her platinum hair was a halo around her head and her back-fall a fan around her ass. Standing, he surveyed the room. There has to be a bed somewhere. The only thing that came close was a low stone slab with an animal fur on it, but it looked entirely too hard and uninviting. Stepping to the edge, he leaned down to pat the fur and was surprised when his hand met a warm resistance a foot from the top of the slab. Pushing harder he felt his fingers dig in then stop. Like reaching into warm water. As hard as he tried he couldn’t reach the fur or the stone slab. “I’ll be damned.” Picking up his princess, he stepped back to the edge of the slab and lowered her until she freely floated above the stone slab. When he tried to push her, to move her to the middle of the stone slab, he felt resistance. Letting his knee fall beside her, he steadied himself and picked her up again, moving her where he wanted her. When he stepped away, she was still curled above the stone slab, her hair fanned out around her, and he said it once again, “Love.” It took him another minute to discover a bathroom, and he noted it looked and worked pretty much like any earth bathroom. A silver plate beside the door dimmed the ceiling when he touched it and he saw a candle he hadn’t noticed before glowing softly by the window. He felt a burning need and didn’t know for what until he looked down at his sleeping beauty. He crawled on nothing above the fur covered slab and curled around the center of his universe and whispered one last time before falling asleep, “Love.” **** He could feel her and see her smile beckoning. Her eyes had dilated from sky blue slits to pools of liquid black and he marveled when she laughed. “It will be okay, my darling, don’t worry.” When she faded beneath his touch and was gone, his heart roared and he felt empty. He cried. “Darling?” It hurt too much and he struck out in anger. “My love, I need you.” His tongue felt heavy and the room was dark, “What?” When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was her. Something was wrong. She looked harried, urgent. “What? What is it?” “Shhhhh.” Then he saw her mother, the queen, at the foot of the bed and reached for air to try and cover up. “What is it?” he whispered. “They’ve invaded Meline,” his princess whispered back while she scooted off the bed.

The queen looked concerned but composed and even managed a maternal smile, which he didn’t really appreciate as he struggled to slide off the bed while cupping his cock and balls. “Who’s invaded Meline?” he said while searching the floor for his clothes. “The Zandill! It was all a trick! We don’t know how many, but thousands of them are killing people and trying to open the castle.” No, that didn’t sound right. “Wait,” he said and grabbed her arm, “Zandill? Zandill Death Warriors are on your planet?” “I knew it all along! He’s probably kidnapped all of us and now he’s taking our planet!” Then he saw the tears. When she pulled free, he chased her down and pulled her to him, “Stop it! That’s not true!” Her hand across his cheek didn’t really hurt but the idea that she had actually struck him in anger burned to his very soul. “You think we are idiots! You think we don’t know enough to tell who’s invading our own planet!” “But, Peenzan, princess, I know it’s not true!” He couldn’t read her expression at first. Something completely new masked her face. Then he saw it. Fear. Now she thinks I’m part of the plot. “Get away from me,” she said and shoved hard on his chest, then started speaking rapidly in Meline to her mother. He held her firm and glanced at the queen who looked terrified, “Peenzan! Wait!” He fought off her blows and struggled to pull her into his arms. Giving up, he finally let go and watched her skid to a stop four steps away and turn on him. “I don’t know how you did it, how you tricked me,” she raged and he thought she would spit. “But I hate you and I will always hate you! Forever!” Her words were like an ax that, had he been a lesser man, would have toppled him like a tree. His heart was a stone and he didn’t move, while in a rush, she gathered her things and nearly ran from the room, the queen at her heels. He had no idea love could hurt so much and fell to his knees in anguish. **** He found the premier sitting in front of the fire in the trophy room drinking brandy. The man looked up, but didn’t look surprised. In three long strides he was over him pulling him up by his collar, “We have to do something?” The man stared back and growled, “Let go of me!” When he came to sprawled on the fur rug in front of the fire, his arm felt numb. The premier towered over him and quipped, “They don’t call us Death Warriors for nothing, son.” Hill’s eyes never left the man while he scooted to his feet and stood rubbing his arm. All trust was gone as he backed up to regroup. “So the princess left you as well,” he mused, a statement of fact and not a question. Hill looked around the room locating the nearest weapon. Before he could make his move, the premier dropped back to the couch and offered, “You have nothing to fear from me, Sergeant Hillsborough. That was just a lucky punch, something they teach us as

kids. And before you ask, yes, they’ve all left. Including my Mantan.” Wanting to keep Zad engaged while he decided what to do, he asked, “Mantan?” “Peenzan’s aunt. The king’s sister.” He inched toward the table where Zad’s grandfather’s sword lay and threw another question out, “But what happened? Something about…” Zad was on his feet and standing in front of the fireplace in a heartbeat. The same ornate Zandill dagger he’d set on the table the day before was in his hand, “Look, son, I mean you no ill will. Here, I meant to give this to you before you left. If it will make you feel better, take it now.” Then he saw it. Zad was holding the deadly weapon by its blade, hand extended, waiting for him to take it. He ignored the offer and picked up the brandy decanter instead. “I know it’s not the Zandill on Meline,” he offered while he picked up Zad’s goblet and poured some amber liquid into it. The knife arced through the air with a casual, offhanded toss, and landed, point first, on the wooden table beside the sword where it stuck up, the jeweled hilt glistening in the firelight. “I thought you might.” “But do you know who it is?” Zad accepted the goblet and settled back on the couch, “I do now.” “Wait! I’m not part…” “I know. I didn’t mean it that way. I have, well, another source.” This time when he spoke, it was with urgency, “Why are you just sitting there? What’re we going to do?” Zad regarded him as if taking measure and weighing his worthiness before saying, “I’ve already called my general. He’s gathering my warriors, what few I have left, and will meet us at the main barracks transport shortly.” Hill paced, his heart pounding, thinking of Peenzan. Why did I let her go? Damn! His hand came to his chest. “Yes,” Zad said, downing the last of his brandy, “I feel it too.” **** Peenzan crept along the hall flanked by two Meline fighters, weapons at the ready. They’d jumped to Hangdon then, using a special code, to the main castle transporter chamber deep below the great hall and found most the staff huddled in a storage room. The great walls of the keep shook as laser canons pounded the thick stone above ground. She knew Meline fighters were on the roof and that conventional climbing or penetrating the highly polished hardened stone walls would be next to impossible. But she also knew the most vulnerable point was the roof. If they tried to drop in, or using a troop transport, hover in, she didn’t know how long the castle guard could hold them off. Her mother and aunt had gone deeper into the maze of tunnels and chambers that ran below the castle and fanned out below the surrounding meadows. Her father had headed for the war room to confer and direct. In the bustle she’d managed to slip away. She didn’t plan on skulking in the dark when most all that was happening had been brought upon the Meline people because she’d been duped. As they passed through the great hall she heard another loud boom come from the

north wall and braced herself for the sonic pressure wave that would follow. With a roar it rushed through the great hall and nearly knocked them off their feet. Then it started. She cringed and willed it into submission but nothing worked. Her chest rattled with a different kind of purr. One she’d experienced only once before and it served two purposes. It made her curse sergeant Hillsborough and the Zandill Premier for trapping her in their intricately woven plot of deceit and lies and she boiled with anger. At the same time she was overcome with fear and dread because the purr that rattled her chest was her one true love’s heart, wherever he was, telling her he was in danger. Just as it had when he’d nearly died fighting a Zandill Death Warrior alongside Meline fighters less than six nights ago. She tried to tell herself it was a trick. Her reaction chemically induced. That as quickly as it came it would be flushed from her system and she would be free of him. At last. Another loud boom and the three of them crouched low waiting for the rush that followed. When it passed they ran for the central stairway and sprinted to the next floor. At the second floor armory, she grabbed a light wand and a handful of fizzle balls and followed the other two fighters up the next flight of stairs to the roof. The first thing she saw was two slain Zandill Death Warriors, the next was a wounded Meline fighter and the last thing she saw before her world went black was a hairless face, not unlike the premier’s, inches from hers and twisted in rage yelling in English, “Here she is, I’ve got her!” **** Hill fell to his knees, the cut on his arm bleeding, and spit blood on the cold gray floor of the UC base on the Meline moon—The Queen. When the heavy boot swung toward his face a second time he brought his hands up and with one swift twist, broke the Marine’s ankle with a satisfying snap. As he staggered to his feet, the second Marine wrapped an arm around his back and fell backwards, pulling Hill with him. Bringing his elbow down hard he heard bones break and felt the arm loosen, but not before a searing pain shot through his right side below his ribs. When he rolled off the Marine he saw another shoe. A different kind of shoe. A shiny red stiletto heel and a very feminine foot with red painted toenails. “You must be Hillsborough,” a woman’s voice said as if she were ordering a salad. He found the foot connected to a very shapely leg that disappeared beneath the edge of a very short black leather skirt that was followed by another expanse of bare flesh. A black leather halter that seemed to struggle to accomplish its task was next, and an altogether lovely, if harsh, face was looking down at him. “You must be Lucy Lighton.” Once he struggled to his feet she said simply, “Come with me.” Leaving a trail of blood, he followed her through a maze of Corporation gray hallways and almost smiled when he found a naked Blake Crenshaw bound face down on his bed with a bright red butt plug sticking out of his ass. When the man, eyes as big as saucers, tried to speak, it only came out as an unintelligible mumble around the bright red ball gag that was strapped into his mouth. Lucy ignored Crenshaw and waved him into the kitchen. “Let me look at those

wounds.” **** When she came to, she could hear fierce fighting and struggled to move her arms. She discovered they were cuffed behind her back and shackled to her ankles, and she rolled on the dirt like a fish out of water. She moaned around an improvised gag that tasted like sweat and dirt. A Zandill Death Warrior was only ten feet away in a fierce struggle with, of all things, another Zandill Death Warrior. One warrior fell and two more took its place. She rolled away when one of those fell with a heavy thud in her direction, and managed to avoid the third one as he was run through with a sword and staggered toward her. Four more Death Warriors followed the first three, and were all left dead and dying at one warrior’s feet. Then there was calm and she struggled in fear as the last warrior pulled on her arms and turned her over. The gag fell away and she struggled to catch her breath. When her wrists came free she rolled onto her back to fight. When the Death Warrior smiled and walked away she jumped to her feet and ran after him. By the time she caught up, he’d killed three more Death Warriors and was walking through the meadow in front of the castle as if taking a leisurely stroll. She yelled in Zandill, “Who are you?” only to be ignored as the Death Warrior slew another pair of Zandill. Rubbing her wrists, she looked around the meadow and saw a carpet of dead Death Warriors with a few walking among them or fighting. Then she saw it. Half the Death Warriors walking or fighting had a blue and orange band around their right upper arm. A rag dyed the colors of the Meline flag. Looking behind her, she saw many more Death Warriors charging down the gentle slope that didn’t have the armband, and was amazed when a handful of the banded warriors fisted the sky and yelled, “Hilo jayyee!” With power and grace they ran through the litter of bodies directly into the oncoming warriors that outnumbered them ten to one. Within a minute, the odds had improved at five to one. Five minutes later only banded Death Warriors were left standing. Tripping over bodies, she found one and asked, “Where’s your leader?” When the warrior fisted the sky and yelled, “Hilo jayyee!” she didn’t understand at first. Then she remembered that all Zandill Death Warriors had only one leader and that was Quant, the Zandill god of war and honor. She tried again, “Your commander.” The warrior scanned the meadow and pointed at a stand of trees, and grunted before heading off to another rushing horde of un-banded warriors. It seemed to take forever to wade through the dead bodies and make her way to the stand of trees. Every time un-banded Death Warriors would appear a banded one would slay them and move on. “Princess! You’re alive!” “Premier?” she was dumbfounded, “But…” “There is no time, Princess. I need help with these maps. They don’t seem to be complete. I need to locate all the transporters within a hundred quadrants.” Slapping dirt and dust off her hands on her thighs and brushing her tangled hair out

of her face, she leaned over the makeshift table and started pointing. The premier spoke to a second at his side and someone else barked orders into a communicator in their palm. “There. We don’t want them to get away.” “But…” “They’re DNA altered earthlings. Something called the Omega unit. Some kind of elite fighting force created by the Corporation.” Pointing around the field littered with thousands of bodies she tried again, “But…” “I agree. They may look like Zandill Death Warriors, but they certainly don’t know how to fight like one,” and she heard him chuckle with pride. Finally she found her voice, “But why are they here?” “Ah, that is the question, isn’t it? And you’re not going to like the answer. Come, you must help me get into the castle. I’m afraid that fool of a father of yours will shoot first and ask questions later.” **** The laser canons had been silenced and the castle cleared. She fidgeted in her seat at her father’s right hand and, on the verge of tears, tried to stifle the purr that was ravaging her chest. She could tell the danger had lessened, but he still wasn’t safe. She had watched the two men puff their chests and prance around for a moment and had quickly stepped in to put a stop to it, “I’m sick and tired of this! You’re both going to get us all killed if you don’t stop this stupid posturing, now sit down.” She shoved her father away before continuing, “And listen to what the premier has to say!” “…a spy close to the chairman since the raids on Meline started about six months ago. She was able to follow what was happening, but could never discover why.” She thought she’d pass out from the anxiety and bit her lip until it hurt. “She finally got the information from someone named Crenshaw. Ultimately, the Corporation needs both our planets to complete the construction and fueling of ten mega starships, each designed to house a billion people, each to be sent in different directions in search of more civilizations that can be brought into the fold, so to speak.” Her fidgeting was becoming distracting and her father looked at her strangely before asking, “Brought into the fold?” “Brought under contract. The Corporation wants to spread their beliefs before someone else tries to force theirs on them.” Somehow, in spite of her distraction, it all sank in, “But what do they need our planets for? You did say the entire planet, right?” “It seems that Zandill’s surface composition is a rare mix of clay, other non-organics, silicates and zinc, that when processed correctly, creates the perfect ceramic for beamship shielding. Not only that but it seems that over fifty years ago they poisoned our atmosphere, a kind of eco-warfare, to strip the planet of anything organic, to make the processing easier.” “But why strip the whole planet to shield some beam-ships. They could have made a contract and bought the stuff from you.” “Not just any beam-ships, princess. These things are massive. Each ship is a quarter the mass of the earth’s moon with a surface area that would nearly cover Zandill completely. Then you must multiply that times ten.”

She couldn’t begin to imagine something that big hurtling through the vacuum of space. He father asked, “And what of Meline?” Zad tented his fingers before answering, “You have to imagine the amount of energy needed to bring a mass that size up to speed. And once they get it going they have to power it, and then when they finally find a place to stop, they have to stop it. With that kind of mass they can’t risk gravity rides around a planet for braking. They could risk throwing the planet out of orbit and wreck the solar system.” “That’s why they’ve been mining our moon,” her father ventured. Then he asked, “But why invade the planet?” “The helium 3 from your moon only services their existing population and fleet, but ten years ago they did a clandestine mineral survey of all known planets and discovered that Meline has a band of helium 3 fifteen miles below its surface that is thirty miles thick. More than enough for their needs.” When no one spoke Zad continued, “They don’t care about the helium 3 on the surface of your planet. That’s not enough. Your moon either. They plan on breaking the planet open which will, of course, destroy your solar system, mining the helium 3 using asteroid mining techniques, and telling the rest of the galaxy you were wiped out by the Zandill.” Peenzan struggled to speak clearly around her purr, “And what about us? What about our people?” “That thing your Sergeant Hillsborough found a few nights back and had blindtransported into space was a biological warfare weapon. They planned on decimating the entire population and blaming it on us. Their most recent invasion in the guise of Zandill Death Warriors was a second attempt to do the same.” And I told him I hated him! Jumping to her feet she fairly screamed, “And where is he now?” Zad smiled and it infuriated her, “Why, he’s doing what any truly loyal mate to a Meline would do. He’s gone off to save you.”

Chapter Six “We have to remove the chairman and force a change in the board of directors.” Is this lady crazy? He was sure she wasn’t talking about a vote of no confidence. Favoring his side, he found a chair and fell into it. Blake struggling against his bonds didn’t even register. “And how do we remove a chairman and force a change in the board? I mean, I don’t think a memo’s going to do the trick.” She moved around the cramped quarters rifling drawers and going through Blake’s closet. “According to the charter, if the chairman and three board members become incapacitated, there has to be an emergency vote within thirty days and the new chairman gets to appoint his own board.” “Something tells me incapacitated is more than a broken leg or bloody nose.” “You got it, Sherlock.” He felt tired and the wound Lucy patched up throbbed. His shoulder was still sore from his tussle on Meline with that faux Zandill Warrior, and most of all he was going crazy worrying about Peenzan. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it’s just that he didn’t think he could. Running his big hand across his face and trying to dip into his well of reserves, he finally asked, “Okay, how we gonna do this?” She smiled and said, “That’s the spirit cowboy! Now put this on.” He looked at the strange black thing that looked more like a shiny vinyl jockstrap than a piece of clothing and laughed, “You’re kidding. Aside from being way too small, what the hell am I going to do with that?” “It’s the only way I can get you onto UC-1. I’m taking you back as my sex slave.” “And what the hell is this?” The shiny chain attached to a black leather full head mask slipped through his fingers. He gawked at the zipper that ran up the back. “Your D image is all over the place. It’s the only way I can get you to my quarters.” “Yeah.” He was sure he sounded as uncertain as he felt. “This other thing will never fit. No way.” She looked at the crotch of his pants and said, “They stretch.” Looking again she added, “A lot.” **** Peenzan stepped out of the transporter with Pran following close behind. In spite of her deep inner strength and courage, it was daunting stepping into the lion’s den. She had come to plead again for the Corporation’s help. They’d deliberately cut off all outside communications from Meline, and she was confident the UC would believe her when she said the Zandill had brutally murdered the queen and king and were holding the Meline people hostage on their own planet. Chin up, defiance written all over her face, she headed straight for the Meline diplomatic quarters and silently dared Crenshaw or anyone else to challenge her right to be there.

Her chest was riff with the rippling reminder that her mate, her love, was hurt, but at the moment, not hurting. Safe for the time being. She had no real plan beyond getting an audience with the chairman, and wondered if she’d kill him then and there, in front of the board with her bare hands, or find some other place and time to do it. She stopped mid-step and Pran bumped into her. “What is it, Princess?” Her purr had settled. She could feel it. Feel him. He was close. He was onboard UC1 and it drove her mad not to know how to find him. Zad had refused to give her any information. Too dangerous. She could compromise them all. Besides, he’d insisted, I don’t really know what their plan will be. **** He felt stupid and the black vinyl jockstrap was driving him insane. He wanted to tug at the strap in the back, but his wrists were cuffed together in front. And his field of vision was limited. “Damn, Lucy, that one’s cute. Where’d you find him?” They’d come through transport and taken the staff lift down to the Corporate staffer’s level and were wandering the hallways on their way to Lucy’s quarters. “Oh, you know me, Debbie; I’ll go to the furthest planet in the galaxy to get laid.” When a hand caressed his cock and squeezed his balls, he wanted to run. When the hand dug at the vinyl covering and slid inside he realized a truth Peenzan hadn’t explained about Meline love. No other woman would ever excite him again. Her clumsy fumbling just felt uncomfortable. “Wow! And that thing’s limp as a noodle. That must be something else when you get his motor revving.” “Oh,” Lucy replied and thankfully tugged his chain so he’d follow, “It is, sweetie. Believe me, it is.” “But you’ll bring him tonight, won’t you?” “Count on it!” Once they were in her quarters, she unlocked the cuffs and he dug at the zipper, ripping the mask off and taking a deep breath, “Jeeeze, I’ll never do that again!” Lucy was already dropping clothes. “Sorry, slick. You have to make one last appearance as king stud. Don’t worry, it’s a quick one.” He looked around and decided her quarters were about as utilitarian as his. When she ducked behind a glass door in the corner of the room and started showering he found the refrigerator and foraged. He’d been hungry before the medication and now, with his body kicked into repair and rebuild mode, he was burning calories like crazy. Before he could find food, he decided he’d had enough of the fucking black vinyl jockstrap and struggled to shove the thing down and off. Damn! Much better. “You’re a Meline mate, aren’t you?” He was beyond caring who saw him naked and tossed over his shoulder while he pulled a covered dish from the fridge. “Yeah, I guess I am.” When he turned and found an equally naked Lucy dripping water on the floor gaping at him, her breasts bigger than he’d guessed and the top of her thighs accented by a small bare apostrophe, but the only thing he wanted to know was where she kept the silverware. “Are you deformed or something?”

He didn’t know what the hell she was talking about and started pulling drawers to find a knife and fork. “Where’s the silverware? I’ve got to eat something.” He grunted and kept looking when she quipped, “How ’bout me?” “Sorry, not interested.” “Too bad,” Lucy said grabbing a towel. “I’d sure love to play with that for a day or two. Maybe even a lifetime.” Finally finding what he was looking for, he turned and sat at the small table, “No can do. Not yours to play with.” Crossing the small room to a closet, she replied, “You sure know how to kill a girl’s ego.” **** Peenzan smiled. In spite of the situation, in spite of the chairman putting her off until tomorrow, in spite of the harsh words she’d said the last time she’d seen him, she smiled. Sitting at the dressing table in the cleaning room in front of the mirror, she felt a warm rush start between her thighs and blossom in her chest, up her neck, and right to the tip of her nose which she saw had blushed brown. He’s thinking of me. More importantly, he’s starting to believe. She smiled again and watched the tip of her nose darken even more. Leaving her robe hanging on the wall, she left the cleaning room and crawled into her bed beneath the sheet. No, she corrected, rolling to the next pillow and sniffing hungrily, our bed. The soft vibration of her chest comforted her. With a kick the sheet was at the foot of the bed, and she buried her face and spread her legs. “I can smell you,” she whispered, her hand sliding between her stomach and the mattress. “Um…” She closed her eyes, finding him in the dark. When she could feel the rough skin of his palms sliding on her back, she let her middle finger push gently between the swollen lips of her pussy. The mattress fell away and she could feel the warmth of his broad chest beneath hers. His eyes, big and gentle, watched while she raised her ass and let it fall, riding her erect digit. “Yes,” she whispered on a sigh. Then his lips, his beautiful wet swollen lips, were on her mouth, and she opened her legs obscenely and took another ride, the tip of her finger pushing in just enough to find the warm wetness before sliding back out to spread it around. His tongue found hers and she squeaked, bringing another finger along for the ride. When his big wonderful hands found her ass and played in her back-fall, the ride finally took off as she writhed and moaned, riding her fingers hard, with purpose. She watched him smile and felt his hands move to her hips, and her movements became frantic, her other hand grabbing a handful of pillow while she waited for the lightbeam ship that was going to slam through her. Eyes shut tight, mouth open in a silent scream into his pillow, a sheen of sweat glistening on her back, her breath caught, her purr stopped, and she exploded on the tips of her fingers. His fingers. Frantic, she raised her ass again and slammed back into the mattress. Curling her

fingers inside her cunt she rolled, pulling the pillow with her, and in quick jerking motions fingered herself past oblivion into nirvana. “Princess? Are you okay, Princess? I heard something…” “Shhh, Pran, he’s here with me.” Reaching for the side of the bed she found Pran’s hand in the dark and tugged. It was something they’d often done, sharing each other’s warmth, talking and giggling. Tonight there’d be no talking or giggling. The mattress shifted and she searched for the button at the top of Pran’s nightshirt. With a tuck and a push Pran’s naked body rolled onto the mattress beside her. “I’m going to share him with you,” she whispered, rolling Pran away onto her side. “But, Princess.” “Shhhh, it’s okay. He won’t mind.” Scooting across the mattress, she spooned into Pran, her small chocolate tipped breasts pressed into her back, and let her purr run wild. She couldn’t see it, but she knew Pran was smiling. Then, her eyes drifting shut, the image of Pran floated away leaving only the warmth of her body, and Peenzan fell asleep wrapped around her love and dreamed of walking in a golden meadow of hantan flowers on Meline, his hand in hers. **** “What the hell was that?” The voice sounded urgent, maybe even scared. It wasn’t Peenzan’s and he didn’t care. No, he pleaded, don’t leave me. “Hey! You okay, cowboy?” And she was gone. It was like crawling out of a safe warm cocoon. When his eyes opened, he found his hand wrapped around his hard cock and come all over the table. His heart was pounding, he was hot and sweaty, his chest felt flushed, and he was fighting to breathe. Looking up, he saw Lucy half dressed, and in a panic, he thought he’d betrayed Peenzan. He was angry when he snapped, “We didn’t…” “Nope, unfortunately we didn’t. You okay?” He looked around the small quarters and finally said, “I guess so.” “One minute I was talking to you and the next minute you were, well, jacking off like crazy and moaning. Hell, I’ve never seen so much come.” Then he felt embarrassed, “Ah, sorry about that. Let me take a shower and I’ll clean it up.” Stepping into the small glass telephone booth he heard her say, “No! Don’t bother! I’ll get it!” It was as if Peenzan had been there. He could feel her riding his chest, her small hands clinging to his shoulders. Hear her sighs. The tickle of the small ridge of fur that ran up her spine beneath his fingers. And, oddly, he felt happy and refreshed. Rubbing soap over his body, he enjoyed the slick wet feeling and found her in his mind’s eye. Her own eyes were closed and she was wrapped around Pran, which oddly, seemed right. She looked safe, and reluctantly, he let her slip away.

Stepping out of the shower, he saw the table was clean and Lucy, still not completely dressed, was sitting in his place finishing the container of food he’d been eating. The same container that had been sitting in front of him when he’d shot his wad all over the table. Finding no other towel, he grabbed Lucy’s off the floor and walked away trying to dry off with the soggy rag and willed his cock to go the rest of the way down. “You’re just weird.” “Hey,” she shot back around bites. “How the hell do you think I got close to the chairman.” “Yeah, well, what happens now?” “Well,” she said around a mouthful, “As you seem to have noticed, I’m kinky. In fact, I have a reputation to protect. So, in about an hour I’m going to take my sex slave to a little social function I’m supposed to go to and then we come back here. Tomorrow is when we do it.” “Do what?” He caught her staring at his half-hard cock while she swallowed another bite. “No, not that, cowboy. Tomorrow’s when we change the galaxy forever.” **** He could hear the music before they got to the door. He didn’t know whose place it was but they’d gone up several levels, and he realized with a start, they were on the board members’ floor. Before she could knock, the door slid open and stringy strands of jank slither-rock washed over him. He didn’t like the oil she’d rubbed all over his body, and he’d refused to let her touch his balls and cock but she’d said he had to at least look like a sex toy. A naked man, his hard cock bouncing, waved them in and yelled something at the uncaring crowd before running ahead. The place was huge. And had rooms. And from the looks of it, it had several. One entire wall was a D screen of a city he’d read about called Manhattan. An earthscape of tall shiny buildings and lush green trees in a park. It paled compared to Meline. One corner of the room was a writhing heap of slick sweaty naked bodies of every type. A cock would disappear at one place and another would appear somewhere else. Lucy gave a tug and headed toward some people sitting on sofas and chairs that were grouped around a low table with a huge tray of rangdon spice in the middle. A lot of them were chatting, a few of them yelling, several just stared at nothing in particular, their jaws slack, their pupils black pools of nothing. “Lucy!” It was the girl they’d run into earlier. “And you brought the stud!” He felt his cock fondled. “Hey, watch out, that’s all mine!” “You are such a selfish bitch!” The woman raised her hand in a high-five. He’d told Lucy he wasn’t going to play. She’d said she could work around it, but that he might have to put up with a little touching. “Damn, honey, what is the gorgeous hunk of man meat you’ve brought me?” “Just keep your cock in your pants, Jason. He’s all mine.” Damn, he thought, thank you Lucy.

Then he saw them. A lot of them. At least twenty. About half-and-half. Male and female. Some earthlings, but a lot of them from other planets. He’d never seen an aznate female from the blue system naked before and he finally understood why they kept them under cover in public. Maybe not to an aznate, but to him she was absolutely the ugliest female he’d ever seen. The mijon male beside her didn’t seem to agree with him, given the way the guy was eying her and the state of his cock. Well, both of his cocks. Lucy tugged his leash and pulled him over to the collection of sex slaves, wrapped the end of his leash around a hook on the wall, obviously put there just for that purpose, grabbed the front of his vinyl jockstrap and with one pull tore it off, and sauntered away to a smattering of applause. She’d warned him, but he still didn’t like it. His half hard cock sticking out in a droop, Hill fell into parade rest, something he could do for hours, tuned the babble and music out, and watched from beneath his mask. By the time she reached the couch, Lucy was naked. When she sat, it was on a hard cock. She was looking right at him as she slid down slowly until she was in the guy’s lap. Before she could settle, a woman was sucking one of her nipples and a man was kneeling at her feet shoving her knees apart. Scanning the room, he finally found a face he recognized. Board member Hanson was giving new meaning to the term board member draped across some man’s lap, a flat wooden paddle turning his red ass redder with each loud smack. So this is it, he thought. This is a glimpse into the inner workings of the people that dogged and throttled the worlds of the galaxy into submission and burdened them with contracts that sometimes left their own people starving. He wanted to puke. Half an hour later he still wanted to puke while the board member knelt beside him sucking one of the mijon male’s cocks. A woman knelt at the other cock and they seemed to be having some kind of race to see who could make the mijon come first. Now I’ve seen it all, he decided. Fifteen minutes later, clearly the winner, board member Hanson’s mouth dripping green come, or whatever it was that came out of a mijon, he just wanted to leave. He was about to call it quits, tear the mask off, and run when Lucy walked up and grabbed his cock, leaned close, and wined loud enough everyone could hear. “Everybody wants to play with you, cowboy.” He searched her eyes and was relieved to see she hadn’t been dipping spice. “Forget it,” he whispered back. She squeezed and tugged, her hand sliding to the end of all fourteen inches of his cock where she cupped the head in her palm before sliding back. It did nothing for him. Leaning as close to his ear as she could get, her huge breasts pushed into his chest, she whispered urgently, “Look, I know you can’t, but you’re going to have to do something. Can you come again? You know, make yourself come? Like before?” “Look, I told you before we came I wouldn’t! Now get me the hell out of here!” Pushing away, her hand came to her mouth in an expression of awe, the same hand that had been pulling on his cock and she licked her palm, and said, “Oh my God! Sorry gang, gotta go! Stud here wants me all to himself!” After she’d done a strange reverse strip to hoots and catcalls, she unhooked his

chain, let it drop and led him out by his cock. Once the door closed behind them, in one swift move, he broke the cuffs that held his wrists together and went for the zipper on the back of the leather mask. “Wait!” she hissed between clenched teeth, “Too many people are looking for you. Leave it on until we get back to my place.” He left her the small single bunk, and threw some cushions from chairs on the floor and was sound asleep, his body mending and his heart soaring with Peenzan’s, before she’d even finished undressing. **** Peenzan woke with a start in a tangle of sheets and Pran. Careful not to wake her sleeping handmaiden, she extracted herself and wandered into the main sitting room. He was pulling at her heart and she smiled. That same pull wouldn’t let her sleep. Curse Zad for not telling her where to find him! The lights came up and she heard a yawning Pran say, “Princess, are you okay?” She sighed and let him go. “Yes, Pran. Just worried.” “I’ll prepare your bath.” “Pran?” “Yes, Princess?” “Do you still think me a fool?” She watched Pran smile wistfully before answering, “I think that Bast has been exceedingly kind to you, my Princess. I pray she is half as kind to me.” **** Crenshaw pulled hard and grunted. Sweating, his wrists sore, he gave up. There’s no way to break them. Damn that woman! I’ll kill her. His jaw was killing him and the seat of the couch was soaked from his slobbering around the fucking red ball she’d strapped into his mouth. His ass burned from the plug she’d stuck in it and he felt like a light-beam ship had taken a shortcut through his ass on its way to Rangdon. The fucking pleasure ring she’d put around his cock and balls was going to kill him if he didn’t get it off. He felt it switch on, just as it had done every fifteen minutes since she’d put it there, and felt his cock pushing into the couch again as he got hard. “Fuck,” he mumbled around the ball. Five minutes later, he felt the pull in his groin and the unwanted and unappreciated rush and tightening of his overworked muscles when he jerked and climaxed. Nothing came out. That was gone hours ago. It was all a sticky mess beneath him. Now it was just the excruciating agony of an overworked libido. When he opened his eyes, he didn’t know how long he’d been out and started pulling frantically on his restraints again. When his D chimed announcing an incoming call he actually tried to smile. Mumbling as loud as he could he finally managed to get the thing to answer. “Blake? Is that you?” He couldn’t see the screen, but he recognized the voice immediately. It’s that prick in production that had been trying to get a meeting with him since he’d arrived on the Meline moon. Don’t these people know we’re trying to destroy a world here?

He moaned around his little red ball. He knew the guy could see him. The D’s would follow any living breathing thing anywhere in a room. If it was unblocked, which his was, there was absolutely no privacy. “Oh, sorry, I guess you’re…” And the guy laughed knowingly. “…ah, busy. I’ll call…” He burst into a fit of mumbles and moans, coughs and groans to keep the guy on the D. He froze when he felt the pleasure ring start up again. Shit! **** As a UC Marine, sleeping only four hours and waking up alert and ready to go was second nature. Rolling to his feet, he realized he was naked and still covered in the oil Lucy had rubbed all over his body the night before. She was naked sprawled lewdly on top of her sheets and he jumped in the shower. Clean, naked, and making breakfast he heard her moan, “Damn, cowboy, it’s awful fucking early isn’t it?” He shoved the synthetic bacon around in the pan and said, “I need you to go find Radd. He’s my lieutenant. You’ll find him at C barracks, box 2, left. Tell him ‘code Singapore 4’ and tell him to bring weapons. Tell him my name and tell him it’s important. He’ll come when you give him the code.” He dropped some real eggs into the pan beside the bacon and wondered who the hell this woman was. He hadn’t seen real eggs in more than ten years. By the time she got out of the shower and dressed, well, put something on—it didn’t cover much, but he guessed that was her idea of getting dressed—he had breakfast on the table and synco, the crappy synthetic coffee found on every Corporation light-beam ship, brewing. “Uhhh cowboy, you shoulda’ said something. I’ve got the real stuff in a cabinet above the refrigerator.” “Didn’t know,” he said around a mouthful of eggs. “And what the hell is a cowboy, anyway?” She just laughed. When she got ready to leave, he remembered, “Oh, and tell him to get me some clothes.” Standing in her open door, she looked back and said, “Oh, I don’t know, I kinda like you like you are.” **** “No, Pran. Get me a royal robe. I need a place to hide something.” Her sergeant was rattling around in her chest and she wondered what he was doing. She could tell he was okay for the moment. She also wondered if he realized what was happening to him. That made her worry, and she bent back to the mirror and pulled the feather under her eye. Pran helped her with the heavy robe, and she pulled a stitch loose and slid the lightstick into place. Stepping back from the mirror, she turned right and left making sure the robe billowed correctly and inspecting her work.

Satisfied, she announced, “You too, Pran. I may need a witness.” Pran’s face clouded, she curtsied, something she never did, and said somberly, “Yes, Princess.” Peenzan was sad, but not overly so. I still have a chance to save him. I only hope I can say I’m sorry first. **** Crenshaw limped around his apartment on UC-1 and wondered when the damn salve on his ass would start working. It still burned like hell, and his cock and balls still throbbed. Choosing a loose pair of slacks, he got dressed and slipped a small hand laser into the inside pocket of his jacket. He’d checked the chairman’s schedule and when he saw the Princess of Meline scheduled for a meeting, he’d smiled. Yes, he knew exactly what would stop them. He was actually whistling as he walked out his front door. **** Hill could feel her. It wasn’t like before when he first met her. It was clear, defined. A presence. It was as if she were standing beside him. It was so strong, he turned twice thinking he’d find her standing beside him. The overwhelming feeling of presence morphed into one of sadness, and it made his chest ache. “What is it?” he said to the wall. When there was no answer, he balled his fist and slammed it into a cabinet, then yelled like a trapped animal. “Hey, Sergeant, you okay?” When he looked up, he found Radd and Lucy standing in the doorway. He resented the intrusion. “Okay, cowboy.” Lucy pushed past Radd. “Much as I hate it, here’s a uniform. He turned away from them to pull his khakis on, not out of modesty, but because he thought his tear for Peenzan was too private to share. Pulling his shirt on, he turned, rubbed his hands together, and said, “Boy, am I glad to see you!” “Singapore 4? Hell, I was sure it was you. I still remember that night in Singapore we met up with those four…” “Sorry, Radd. A lot to explain and not much time. And you have to know, this is dangerous. That means we might not make it to Singapore. Ever again. You with us?” “Hell, asshole, you think I wanna miss out on all the fun? Assholes and elbows, that’s a UC Marine!”

Chapter Seven Peenzan was surprised. The room was full. All twelve board members were seated, chatting animatedly, the chairman sat stoically at the head of the long table, and she cringed when she counted six fully armed Marines stationed around the huge room. Standing a little straighter, pushing her shoulders back, fixing the chairman with a stare that said, “Don’t fuck with me Mister,” she strode to her place opposite the director at the long table, Pran a few feet to one side, and stood waiting, watching, and taking measure of her enemy. The man looked even worse than he had just a few days earlier, if that was possible. His eyes set in black hollows, his cheeks seemed to sag and had a gray tinge to them, and his hands looked unsteady. Protocol dictated she wait and speak only after being recognized by the secretary. Looking around, she realized the secretary wasn’t present and stifled a moan of impatience. They’re trying to kill us with the blunt end of bureaucracy. How absolutely cowardly, she thought. Looking from Marine to Marine, she tried to read their alertness, tried to measure how quickly they’d react. Reaching into the folds of her robe, she pulled out a sheaf of papers. Her ticket to the head of the table, she hoped. On each sheet the words, ‘We will not be conquered,’ was printed repeatedly in both Meline and Zandill. It was garbage. An excuse to walk to the other end of the long board room table and get close enough to the chairman to vaporize his head. She didn’t know who Zad’s spy was. She only knew it was a woman. She surveyed the clerical staff sitting along the outside wall and found no worthy candidates, and just as quickly decided a good spy would never be obvious. Then she saw him. Standing in a corner with a stupid grin on his face. Crenshaw was watching her every move. It was in his eyes. She recognized it immediately—he’s here to stop me. It only galvanized her resolve. The chatter around the table swelled into an annoying din and she shut it out completely, turning instead to the soft ripple of her purr. He’s near, she realized, and she looked around the room with renewed alertness. He’s calm and full of purpose and moving. Like a knife, it stabbed her heart—he can feel me. He’s concerned. “Don’t be,” she whispered and hoped to Bast he heard. **** He’d heard a sound like it once when he was a child visiting an aunt and uncle on earth. It was like a wisp of wind blowing through leaves. A whisper so faint he thought he’d imagined it. But it still made his heart pound. Radd and Lucy had taken the lead and he slouched along close behind to keep his face hidden as much as possible. Radd had explained that he’d been cleared of all charges of terrorism and murder, but just so they could keep looking for him, he was now wanted for going AWOL. The plan was forced on them by time constraints and was rudimentary at best. Lucy

knew that a small fleet of lightbeam ships had already been sent to both planets carrying nuclear-based explosive devices big enough to crack a planet wide open. They were affectionately known as planet busters. She also knew that if they didn’t stop the Corporation immediately, there would be no reason to try. Three people, three weapons, and four people to kill. At least. Lucy also explained that there was a meeting of the complete board this morning and that this would be their best opportunity. They’d agreed that once the first shot was fired, everyone was on their own. Once they had four kills, they would each retreat as best they could and try to make it to Meline or Zandill. So far so good, he thought when they waltzed through the main corporation reception area, Lucy smiling and saying something about being late. When they stepped into the long hall that lead to the boardroom, Radd swung a hand behind his back and snapped his fingers. The call to snap to attention, to be careful. Glancing around Radd’s head, he saw two UC Marines stationed outside the door to the boardroom. He ducked back and they kept walking. “Morning, Sir!” “At ease, men.” This was the tricky part. This was when they could lose the advantage of surprise. He saw Lucy’s hand leave her side and knew she was flashing her ID card. He kept his head down and stopped behind Radd. “Oh, they’re with me.” “Sorry, ma’am, orders. Special meeting…” The moment Radd stepped right, Hill stepped left, both of them landing stun chops to the base of the neck of their opponents. When the two Marines slumped, they caught them before they could make a lot of noise when their equipment hit the deck. “Give me five minutes, then come in shootin’,” whispered Lucy. She was gone and the heavy doors clicked shut behind her. Radd looked at his watch, held up five fingers, and grabbed one of the fallen guards, looking for a place to hide the body. One minute later, Radd held up four fingers and they both took up position where the guards had been standing. **** She watched the woman rush past and stop to lean close to the chairman and whisper something in his ear. The man smiled lecherously and rocked in his chair. The man is filth incarnate. Was that a grimace, an involuntary flinch? She followed the woman’s eyes and found Crenshaw smiling blithely. “Yes, sorry I’m late. This meeting of the board of directors of the United Corporation is now officially called to order. As our first order of business, we will now hear from Princess…” she said, and the woman stopped, looked up from her notes in surprise, before going on as if uncertain about something, “…Princess Peenzan of the planet Meline, who is here to discuss the unjust invasion of her planet by the Zandill people. Princess, if you’d like to begin.” “The Meline people thank the UC board once again for their patience and diligence in this matter. Before I begin, I have some reports I’d like to have distributed if I…” “Princess, I see no need for reports,” the chairman’s voice dripped with impatience.

“Just more Meline propaganda, if you ask me. I think we all know…” No, I have no problem whatsoever with killing this man. “Mr. Chairman, I apologize for interrupting,” she returned, and she drummed her nails on the hardwood table top impatiently. “But I believe I’ve been recognized by this board, and by law have a right to finish my plea.” She unblinkingly stared the chairman into submission, and smiled inwardly when he waved his hand and barked, “Well! Get on with it then!” Picking up the stack of papers with her left hand, she started around the corner of the table and allowed herself one last selfish moment as she enjoyed the gentle purr in her chest. Two strides later, right hand slipped inside her robe where her fingers found the end of her lightstick, she tugged gently. Then everything seemed to slow down and jump out at her in close relief. Just as she made it to the head of the table, her eyes swept the space around the chairman. Empty but for the woman that had come in late and opened the meeting. She looked into the woman’s eyes and read concern. She heard the boardroom doors open with a loud bang and saw concern turn to urgency, and looked away from the woman. Then she heard heavy boots running just as she turned the corner of the table and raised her stack of papers to place them in front of the chairman. Finding the man’s eyes, she saw him looking down the long table and saw fear. Pulling the lightstick into the open just as she turned her head to see what was happening, she saw two Marines, one on each side of the long table, weapons up and pointed, running toward her. She turned back to the chairman just as a shot rang out and the man’s head exploded in a shower of blood and bone. She froze, and out of the corner of her eye she caught Crenshaw jumping to his feet, his hand digging inside his jacket. Her head jerked back and she looked at the Marines a second time. This time she saw him, and in her excitement, her lightstick slipped from her fingers. The movie moved so slow in her head that it was all a swirl of bodies floating around her in freefall. His jaw was set and his soft gentle eyes took on an edge. She marveled at the strength in his arm as he raised a small shiny handgun and carefully, even patiently, took aim. With the next shot another head exploded halfway down the table. She found his eyes and when he looked up she smiled. His mouth moved, his lips angry curls, and he looked past her. Then another shot and the Marine on the other side of the table, the one she didn’t know, fell. A hand on her arm and she spun to find Crenshaw’s face inches from hers. Her lightstick gone, she struck with the only weapon left and took pleasure in his grimace as her nails raked across his face leaving bloody furrows in their wake. Another shot, another board member died. He was at her side, his face twisted in rage, his weapon raised, a shot rang out and Crenshaw’s head exploded. His arm was around her waist and he was dragging her. Her purr was deep and

constant, and in the midst of bedlam, she smiled contentedly and raked her fingers through the hair on his bare arm. The woman behind the chairman was on her feet, a gun in hand, and another board member’s chest erupted in a deep crimson bloom beneath his starched white shirt. Hill was hugging her to his body and running back down the long table. Then she saw the wicked black barrel of someone else’s gun come up and point. She couldn’t let it happen, she couldn’t let her one true love, her mate for life, die at the hands of her enemy. Pulling on his big hand she twisted from behind the protective shield his arm and stepped to the right just as the angry black barrel glowed with a burst of super heated plasma that tore into her chest and Peenzan, Princess of Meline and loving mate to a simple earthling, thanked Bast for making her quick enough to save him. She managed to look up one last time and smile into his eyes before the life left her own. **** Hill watched the proceedings without interest and listened without hearing. It had no meaning. Nothing had any meaning. No matter who he asked, God or Peenzan’s beloved Bast, he found no meaning to any of it. He’d sat in a cell for two days and thought. Not empty thoughts, not thoughts of escape or revenge. He didn’t even contemplate his own death, which he was sure, would come quickly. He thought of her, of his Peenzan, and spoke with her quietly. The guard’s D ran incessantly and he was, once again, the center of attention throughout the galaxy. His stature had gone from mere terrorist to mastermind. Given the death of Radd and Lucy, he knew they needed someone’s face to put behind the heinous deed. And now he sat shackled to the floor watching a bunch of bureaucrats argue over whether he should be tried on UC-1 or shipped back to earth. He knew it had nothing to do with jurisdiction, or for that matter, what the law might dictate. It was all about media coverage. Where could the Corporation get the most favorable media coverage? He hadn’t seen her come in, and when Pran caught his eye and smiled, he couldn’t help but smile back. It wasn’t his Princess, but it was a Meline and it made him happy. Then it was over. He had no idea what had been decided and didn’t care. His shackles were released from the floor and two guards poked him until he moved toward the back of the room where he’d be rushed off and locked up. Just before he got to the exit, he felt a hand on his forearm and looked down to find a smiling Pran being shoved away. “Not worry, all be okay.” He smiled at her accented English and trudged through the doors into the relative quiet of the holding area. Once safe in his cell, his shackles removed, he lay on the scratchy wool blanket that covered his bunk and stare at the ceiling, conjuring her image in the smudges and scratches he found there. Late at night, when the guard finally turned off his D, propped his feet on his table, and let his head nod against his chest, he would hear her laughing and whispering softly

to him. “You mustn’t worry, my love.” He’d smile and listen again. He knew what she’d say next. She always said the same things. “You must come to me, my love. You must bring your heart to me.” “Yes,” he’d whisper, “I’ll be there soon.” Then, sometime between the shadows of the night that never fell on a beam-ship, and the first glimmer of sol, that, in kind, never warmed his face, he’d make himself go to sleep just because he knew she was waiting there for him. There in his dreams. Then, on the twentieth day, comfortable in the certainty of his routine, everything changed. **** The first hint of change came across his guard’s D when the United News Service broke the story. A scandal like none ever seen before in the history of the Corporation. A Machiavellian plot that would have left even Machiavelli blushing. The facts were sketchy, as was often the case when the tip of the iceberg popped into view, and an audit was underway of all internal documents and communications for the last ten years sent by the Corporation’s Chairman and its board members. Tales of corruption and lavish living at the expense of the Corporation’s people, wild sex parties and Rangdon spice, deceit and injustice abounded. One thing was certain—nine of ten member planets of the Galactic Union of Trade and Investigation had voted to deny membership to its most powerful member and founding state—the United Corporation of Earth. A quiet rebellion headed by the united front of the Meline and Zandill people was sweeping the galaxy that called for non-compliance of all Corporation contracts. Hill sat on his bunk and smiled, and later that night when his dreams finally came, he enjoyed telling Peenzan what was happening. **** “Well, don’t you look like shit!” Hill looked up to find the Premier of Zandill standing in full regalia smiling down at him, Peenzan’s aunt on his arm. The gentle sound of her soft purr made him want to cry. Instead he jumped to his feet and found a smile. “Damn,” he shot back, finding a strange joy at having a visitor, any visitor. “Look what the cat drug in.” Stepping to the bars, he reached through and shook Zad’s hand. Then, when the man raised his left hand and hit his chest, Hill mirrored the traditional Zandill greeting and managed a smile. “So, what brings you to a Corporation stronghold? I hear you and everyone else in the galaxy are fighting the bastards.” Zad chuckled. “Ah, the galaxy is changing, son, and I’m here to make sure all the work done by some very brave people does not go to waste. We must never forget.” Hill was glad. Glad that the deaths of so many, including Radd and Lucy, but most of

all his Peenzan, was not in vain. And he glanced at Peenzan’s aunt and said so. “She was very brave and I’m glad it all served a purpose.” “Zanctu!” The Zandill equivalent of bullshit sounded more like a sneeze than a curse when Zad barked it out. “You’re not glad about any of this! And I don’t blame you!” Before Hill could say anything else, Zad had turned and was barking orders at the guard. When the door of his cell swung open, he stood and stared in disbelief. “Well, what are you waiting for? You can’t be a king from inside a jail cell!” **** The sun’s caress was warm and dried the chiming water that clung to his skin quickly. When Pran stepped up and offered him a robe, he smiled and asked, “Now what?” He wasn’t overjoyed, but had found a kind of happiness on Meline, living in the castle, sleeping in her bed, and walking among her people. The changes had been swift and cut a wide swath through the galaxy. By, in a sense, a hostile takeover, the corporation had been disbanded. All off-planet corporation assets had been given to the Meline and Zandill people by way of compensation, who in turn, had immediately returned all of it to the people of earth. But there were a few conditions. One had been his immediate release and exoneration of all charges of crimes and treason against the people of earth, and another had been the creation of a steering committee made up of one representative from each known populous planet in the galaxy that would oversee the creation of a new democracy and the assignment of new leadership on earth. “You must come with me,” Pran replied. As she started off through the yellow grass of Meline, her back-fall swishing around her ankles, he imagined, if only for a moment, that Peenzan was showing him the way. Peenzan’s aunt had explained that no matter what happened to Peenzan, he was still her Bast chosen mate, and as such, was now part of Meline royalty and would someday become King. He didn’t know if he would go through with it, but it made the queen and king smile when he’d accepted the title of Prince of Meline, and he knew Peenzan would be happy, too. When they crested a small hill behind the castle and stepped into a meadow of flowers of every color imaginable, he stared in awe. “Now you pick.” Her English wasn’t perfect and he still had trouble understanding her at times. “What? All of them?” Pran looked impatient, planted her hands on her hips, and said, “No, you silly human. Pick some. Just … how you say, antran?” When he stared, his lack of comprehension obvious, she spoke to him like she would a child. “Pick just flower that remind you of her.” They were beautiful and he couldn’t understand why he needed to kill them by picking them. “But why?” Now Pran looked thoroughly pissed, “Is custom. Meline custom. Our people do this. You Meline Prince now. You do this.” The sun was bright and a soft breeze brought the fragrance to him. He could think of

no better way of discovering Meline than picking flowers for Peenzan. Walking along the edge, he was struck by a royal blue blossom with three petals and bright red pistols standing proudly in the middle, and picked it. A little further along the edge of the meadow he found a jade green blossom with eight willowy pedals that drooped long and low. A small pink button in the middle shined like lacquer. “No!” He looked back and saw Pran waving. Holding the flower up he yelled, “But I’ve already picked it!” Pran rolled her eyes and said, “Okay. Okay. Is good. But you go middle. No just flowers outside. Look at all flowers. Every one.” Every flower? He looked across the meadow and decided there must be more than five thousand, no, ten thousand flowers growing in the small plot. How could he look at all of them? When he looked back at Pran, he saw that refusal was not an option. Taking a first step into the field, he started searching the face of every flower. First one, then another, joined his first selections. Then he saw another ten feet away that seemed to call to him. In thirty minutes, he could no longer carry his bundle of flowers and walked to where Pran was ever vigilant, dropped his selections at her feet, and noticed a faint smile of approval. Four hours later, the meadow completely destroyed from his wanderings and stompings, he had a bundle of flowers the size of Pran stacked beside her. When he stopped and wiped his brow, looking across the sad state of the meadow, Pran asked, “You done now, human?” He could see nothing noteworthy still standing. He had no idea what the custom was about, but he had to admit it had become fun. “I guess so.” And he shrugged. Hell, he didn’t know. Pran turned and started off. “Come. Bring flowers.” Bring flowers? How was he going to carry all these flowers? In a moment of inspiration, he pulled his robe off and threw it on the ground. Scooping up flowers, he dropped them on his robe, and when they’d all been moved, he pulled the robe together, and naked, picked up the bundle and prepared to walk back to the castle. And there it was. A very small six petaled flower, white with a bright golden center that looked like molten gold. Stooping, he grabbed the small flower, brought it to his nose, smiled, and stuck it behind his ear. Whistling, he set off for the castle. When he crested the small hill, he saw Pran standing halfway to the castle, obviously upset with his dalliance. He just smiled because he knew that would piss her off more and kept walking. Finally, standing in the middle of Peenzan’s bedroom, he dropped the bundle and wiped his brow. Pran rolled her eyes and pointed at the black stone extrusion they called a birthing table. “Bast no have patience with silly humans. You put flowers there. Not on floor.” He didn’t care. He knew that most of Pran’s disfavor was show and he enjoyed getting her ire up. The temptation was too great. He knew what she’d say before he’d said it. “You know, I’m sweaty and tired. I think I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“No! You do now! Tonight night. Do now!” Hiding his smile, he feigned defensive anger and said, “Okay! Okay! I’ll do it!” He almost laughed when she walked back and forth with each and every bundle of flowers until the birthing table was stacked high with color and fragrance. Stepping back he stared in wonder at his small offering. “Now…” and Pran stopped mid sentence, walked up and inspected his head. With a cluck of disapproval, she plucked the small white flower from behind his ear and put it in his palm. “I tell you all flowers. Now put.” And she pointed. One more sniff of its luscious fragrance, and with the utmost care, he ceremoniously placed the last flower at the very top of his collection. Stepping back, he brushed his hands and smiled and said, “There. All the flowers.” Pran walked around and carefully inspected the colorful stack. Pushing here and prodding there, she finally stepped back and said, “Good. Now you bath. You stink like human.” **** Pran had made sure he’d gotten into the chiming pool and left mumbling something in Meline. He floated and splashed and thought of Peenzan with each soft chime the amber liquid made. Looking at the low stone bench beside the pool, he recalled that night that now seemed like years ago when she’d explained about love as the Meline saw it. “You see, that’s where your species has made a mistake. They’ve brought judgment and logic into something that has nothing to do with either. You humans plot and think and wonder why. You try to make love a question, when in fact, there is no question in love. There is only feeling. Love is a matter of heart, not a question of the mind. Yes, he decided, stepping out of the pool. Only heart. And I have you here, and his hand came up and touched lightly between his breasts. And no, you don’t have to know why the sky is blue to enjoy it. He smiled. “Now eat. You need much strength.” Pran swept into the room with a tray piled high with food. He entertained the idea of refusing just to hear her curse him, but instead sat obediently at Peenzan’s desk and let Pran watch over him while he ate every scrap of food she served up. Pushing back from the desk he rubbed his bare stomach and said with a hint of rebellious mockery, “Food good. More. I want more.” Pran looked from the empty tray to his slightly swollen belly before she realized he was teasing her. “You see! Silly human. Bast no like fun today. Bast may not listen you.” No, he guessed not. He was, in fact, only human. The light through the high window was turning a dark azure color and he knew the sun was fading. Another night with his dreams, or more importantly, another night with her, his Peenzan. When he started toward the bed, Pran stepped in front of him and shoved on his chest, “You not ready. Go. Light candle.” It had all been fun, a day of sun and color and fragrance that, not the same as having the enchanting fragrance of his Peenzan floating around, was pleasant enough by itself, but he was tired and no longer in the mood. He thought of refusing, but when she pushed

again, he decided it would be easier to just do what she wanted. What candle? He guessed she could read minds now because Pran took his hand and led him back to the birthing table. Digging behind his stack of flowers, she pulled out a candle and set it on the floor in front of the stone slab. “There, you light.” Finding a flint and striking stone beside the candle, he kneeled and worked until the flame caught and glowed warmly. When he stood, Pran picked the candle up and set it on the edge of the birthing table beside the depression that was the head. “Now.” Pran sounded like she was as much out of patience as he was. “You kneel here and talk Bast. Say thing you want most in all universe. Then you go sleep.” This time there was no thought of antagonizing Pran. Obediently, reverently, he knelt on the cold stone floor and said his prayer to a god he didn’t know on a world he was just learning in a haze of tears he didn’t deny.

Chapter Eight Once he’d returned to Meline, his dreams of her had become more vivid. At times she’d stand beside the bed, others she’d walk to the chiming pool where she’d sit on the low stone bench and talk to him while he bathed. Sometimes she’d sit on the edge of the bed, just out of reach. And they’d always talk. It was funny that given the short time they’d had together, they could find so many things to talk about. She explained more about love, about the Meline way, about how selfishness was impossible between Meline mates, and that, hard as it might be to understand, that could be a problem when both wanted to give and no one wanted to take. She told him about Bast, about herself as a child, and asked him about his own childhood. It didn’t matter what they talked about, it was about the talking, about her finding him in his dreams. Tonight he closed his eyes to the soft fragrance of flowers and the spicy smell of the candle he’d lit, and was disappointed when she wasn’t there immediately. He wanted to know about their customs, about the flowers and the candle, about why she was so real to him in his dreams. His mind finally settled, and with a feeling of disappointment he fell into the abyss of a black dreamless sleep, letting Meline and the rest of the galaxy slip away. **** “I am here, my love.” “Yes,” he smiled, “At last.” Her skin glowed in the light of the single candle that burned on the birthing table, her platinum hair a shimmer, her back-fall swishing as she stepped onto the bed and kneeled beside him, “I’m sorry you had to wait, but these things take time.” His hand came up as it often did and he reached to touch her cheek. He smiled when she didn’t shy away as she always had before and enjoyed the warm feel of her skin on his fingertips. Then he heard her soft purr and his smile deepened. “Tell me about love again,” he whispered. “Oh,” she replied and leaned close enough he could feel her breath on his cheek. “I think I’d much rather show you.” Her lips found his and he felt his eyes well. When his hand found her breast, she moaned into his mouth. He let her hand push him back on the mattress and marveled at the gift Bast had sent him in his dream tonight. When she straddled his thighs and took his cock in her hand, he quaked beneath her. When she let it drop and crawled up his body to find his mouth again, he felt a tear on his cheek. “No,” she said with a small laugh and kissed his tear away. “No, you mustn’t be sad. I am here, we are one. You have found me.”

“Peenzan,” he said as his voice shook with emotion. “What will I do when you no longer find me in my dreams?” “Shhh,” she whispered and her finger sealed his lips. “Just love me and let Bast see how happy we are together.” He reached, then stopped, afraid she’d slip away, evaporate into the Meline night. Then he let his hands wander to her back where he ran his fingers up and down the soft ridge of fur that covered her spine in wonder. His cock felt warm tucked beneath her back-fall resting on the curve of her ass. “It’s okay,” she said with a giggle. “I will not break. I am yours now and forever.” He could feel her wet kiss on his stomach and his fervor grew. Letting his hands slide down, he lifted her ass and watched her eyes close slowly as he slid his hard cock in. It felt so real. He could smell her, feel her purr against his chest, feel her slide on his cock. The wetness. The warmth. The soft touch of her cunt caressing him. Her nose blushed chocolate brown and her eyes were dark pools that beckoned. Cradling her in his arms, he rolled them both on the bed and found her neck where he kissed the dancing pulse he found jumping beneath her white skin. “Oh, Peenzan, why? Why did you have to go?” “Shhh, my love, I’m here now. I’m yours now.” He pushed between her thighs and smiled when she squeaked. He felt her legs around his hips and pushed again with purpose. “Yes,” she whispered on a sigh. His mouth found a breast and he sucked until it was as brown as her nose. He suckled at the other hungrily while his cock pushed into her, spreading her, opening her. When she teased, “Do not be timid, my love, take me! Make me yours!” his muscles pulled tight, his thighs bulged, his toes dug, and all thought of his wonderful dream slipping away faded as he rutted and ravaged her until his body dripped with sweat, her mouth opened in a voiceless scream, and she rocked and quaked beneath him, her pussy clenching tight around his relentless cock. She was panting, her nails digging at his back, her purr a tumult against his chest when he didn’t relent, his loins drawn as taught as piano wire, his big chest smothering her, the muscles in his neck tight cords that bulged. He could feel her, smell her, hear her purr, and he exploded in a torrent of animal grunts and jerking moans, only to collapse back into the dark abyss of a dreamless sleep. **** A scratching on his shoulder brought him back and he lazily brushed his hand across the itch it left behind. Just as his eye opened, he saw a small red bird fly away and perch on the edge of Peenzan’s desk. He knew what it was, she’d told him once long ago, on a late night walk above the castle. A waltuun. Nature’s lover, she’d said. He smiled and turned his head back to the pillow to enjoy the dream he’d found of her soft purring beneath him. “You mustn’t do that, my love.” His head jerked so hard his neck hurt. There she was curled beneath him. Her slightly crossed blue eyes staring at his nose. “Wha…” “You’ll anger Bast. I have no idea why Nature’s lover has taken a liking to you, but

he has. Best you make friends with him.” He rolled away, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. “But…” “No, not yet. You’re so nice and warm. Come back,” she whined like a spoiled child. “How…” “Princess! Good morning!” He didn’t understand what had been said, but when he looked over his shoulder he wasn’t surprised to find Pran standing at the side of the bed. Peenzan answered in Meline and tugged on his shoulder again. “But how? Did I die?” “No, silly.” She slapped his chest playfully. “Why would you think that?” “But you died! I saw it happen! You were beside me…” “Of course I did. But now I’m back.” He pinched her and she squealed, “What was that for!” He kissed her and she moaned. When he started staring again, she said, “But I thought you knew.” “No…” was all he managed. “Here.” And she took his hand and pulled him off the bed, then led him to the birthing table. All the flowers were gone. There, in the middle of the gold lined depression of her body lay a single flower. The small white six peddled bloom with a golden center. The last flower he’d picked. The one he’d tucked behind his ear. All the other flowers were gone and the candle was a melted mess on the stone slab. “You see, by putting my flower, the one I chose long ago, onto the birthing table and asking Bast to return me, you brought me back.” He still couldn’t believe it. “But you were dead,” he insisted. “How do you come back?” “Why, Meline have nine lives, of course. This is number two for me. My mother will give me a lecture as soon as she sees me.” “This human, he very stupid. He brought all the flowers from your meadow. He stack up all and he forget the most important one.” Peenzan laughed and waved her hand, shushing Pran and her horrendous English. Then he realized something. “But how long will you live? I mean, humans barely make it to 200.” “Ah.” She pulled him down and kissed his nose. “you are Meline now. You must find your own flower and we will have your birthing table made…” “But how long will we live?” “Oh, does it matter? It will seem like forever.” He pulled her to him, ran his fingers through her hair, enjoyed her warm purr, and leaned down and kissed her. When their lips parted he whispered, “Forever’s not enough.” The End

About the Author: Indulge yourself in a sumptuous taste of mystery with a dash of heart pounding thriller. Perhaps a sprinkling of science fiction will be what teases your palate as you feast on Roscoe James' brand of romance. And don't forget the spicy wickedness that makes his stories Hot with a capital “H”. Roscoe James (RJ to his adoring fans) writes romance with a delicious twist. Born along the dusky red banks of the Ohio River, RJ grew up in a sleepy little town in southern Indiana where the sounds of cicadas and whippoorwills marked the arrival of summer and cruising the town square on a Friday night was a rite of passage. From law enforcement to the hallowed corporate halls of two Fortune 500s, he draws from a deep well of life experience. With Spanish as his second language and the day-to-day of living in one of the largest cities of culture in the world, RJ infuses his stories with a raw reality that makes the characters memorable forever. Most days you’ll find RJ sitting at his desk overlooking one of the concrete jungle’s lush city parks trying to dream up new ways to captivate and titillate your imagination … in the most wicked way possible, of course.

Meet LSB Authors At The House Of Sin Lsbooks.NET We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books LSbooks.com for other exciting erotic romances. 2007: Terran Realm Urban fantasy world: TerranRealm.com Featured Series: The Zodiac Series: 12 books, 24 stories and authors Two hot stories for each sign, 12 signs The Coven of the Wolf by Rae Morgan Benevolent lusty witches keep evil forces at bay Fallen: by Tiffany Aaron Fallen angels in hot flight to redeem their wings The Max Series by JB Skully Meet Max, her not-absent dead husband, sexy detective Witt, his mother… And many, many more!