The Commandant's Wife
By Shadar, with edits by JH
October 14, 2048, Frankfurt, Germany
The first time Jala saw him, she tried to kill him. That was, after all,
her mission. He was Arion, she was Velorian. The formula wasn’t complex.
Their emotions were simple and intense and their actions prescribed by
Their one-on-one battle leveled the Radisson Hotel in Frankfurt. A lot of
Terrans died, but then, they were always dying. The Arion Near Earth
Command had gone on the offensive in summer of 2048 to bring Earth into
the Empire, once and for all.
The Velorian Council had sent reinforcements, but by the time Jala and a
half dozen other Protectors had arrived on Earth, the Arion strangle hold
was complete. It would be just a short matter of time before a pacified
Terra became the newest colony of the Empire.
Still, they fought. They always fought. Four Protectors became smoke and
ashes while Jala fought nearby. and she barely escaped death herself. A
Tset’lar was operating on Terra, and Jala's friends and comrades were
defenseless. She saw the futility of it and went underground to survive. Gathering up as many
combat effective Terrans as she could, she tried to teach them guerrilla
tactics. Tactics that Terrans were naturally good at. They won some small
battles against the Betans, although at huge cost of lives.
She was traveling through Germany, recruiting the best men that were left
of their ravaged army, when she came across Balan. He was also recruiting
Terrans. The problem was that he was Arion, and worse, a Prime. She
assumed he would
encourage the remnants to kill more Terrans. That bitter prospect, along
with the promptings of Jala and Balan's genetics, pre-ordained their battle.
Arions were born with a visceral hatred of Velorians, and Velor had long
ago responded in
kind. The war between their worlds had gone on far too long. It might have
started as nurture, but the hatred had long ago gotten into the genes. Nature's own
promptings had been reinforced by selective mating, for Arions, and the
Maternity Engine for Velorians, leading to a loathing of "the others" from
Their fight was typical of isolated battles between a male and female
Supremis. Lethal combat in the guise of sexual intercourse. It wasn't
intimacy, but rather sexual athleticism to the third power. Being
invulnerable beings, they couldn’t pound each other to death, and weapons
rarely worked against them. Death would only come when their energy
reserves failed. Energy that blossomed like a star and was then consumed
with every orgasm. Energy that had to come from inside their bodies, for
they were burning ergs far faster than they could draw them across the void.
Like most Velorians, Jala had a natural advantage. Her body had
been designed for exactly this kind of fight, what with her beauty and her pheromones
and her enhanced strength from orgasm, not to
mention her orgone reserves. But Balan was a proud soldier of Aria, Primal born,
and no stranger to the loving skills. He was a superman by any measure, and he’d
won just such a battle in the past. The Protector on Cypress 3 had been
too young to realize the game he played, and she'd died for her ignorance.
For Balan knew how to take a woman to
that place where she'd willingly give up her very soul just to have him love her
Jala in turn had conquered her share of Primal men, but even she was
surprised at Balan's skill. He made love the way an accomplished musician
drew power and beauty
from the strings of a violin. Her body was his instrument, and the music
he drew from her was straight from heaven itself. She fell under his
power, and found herself wishing their lethal contest would never come to an end.
It didn't help that she'd been unsatisfied for a very long time. Galactic 4, her
assigned planet, was populated by ape-like creatures with emerging
self-awareness. Sentients in the making. Yet no matter how horny she got,
those primitive and hairy ape men were hardly her type. The occasional
Messenger offered a poor substitute -- sex without intimacy. Balan combined strength and sensuality, and he
proved most capable of scratching an itch that had been tickling her for
far too long.
Confident in her ultimate superiority, for feminine sexuality of the Velorian
persuasion was nearly irresistible, she let him take her in the way of a man, urging him
onward, encouraging him the way women had done from time immemorial. He
was up to the job, so much so that she barely noticed when the building
began to collapse beneath her back. Lost in the heat of primitive passion,
she didn't care.
They started their sexy contest on the tenth floor, and wound up in the
sub-basement, the twenty story building collapsing around them. Inner
muscles that had no human analog ensured he’d never withdraw from the
depths he’d braved, but he put up a good fight
nonetheless. Primes were arrogant brutes as a rule, but some like Balan
were extraordinarily skillful.
She tried to focus on her mission when her mind cleared enough to think. Which meant draining his body of
its vital powers. Every time the moment of insanity came
over him, each time she screamed as the little death took her to heaven,
each time the conflagration of matter/anti-matter hormones filled her body
with his release, she got stronger.
It was an erotic dance to the death.
For so many years, it had been a man’s game. Arion conquest would leave a
Velorian women broken and defeated, their purpose of using her body to bring
another Arion warrior into the world accomplished. Then the war had turned even
uglier, and the Velorian's death became the new goal. Fighting back with the
human genetic technology that Aria scorned, Velor created their fabled Protectors.
Genetic enhancement to the third power. Jala
was proud that she had within herself the latest of those genetic
enhancements. She and her sisters were warriors designed to win this kind
She matched Balan, surge for surge, thrust for thrust, for half a day
and a night. As she drained his vital energies, as
he neared his end, his mental guard
fell. He began mumbling in time with their fevered thrusting.
"No... no... no more. Ahhh. Killilng. Ahhhg. Life. Terrans. Should live.
Beautiful. You. Planet. Terrans. More, more!"
Jala was hardly able to hear his groans over her own keening, but somehow,
she realized that more was going on here than merely a mindless male rut.
sexual powers into pleasing him further, she controlled him, slowing his surging body by relaxing
her own, but still keeping him in an erotic haze by rippling her inner
muscles. As he caught his breath, his uninhibited thoughts became more
coherent, and he began to tell of his secret memories -- fighting his own
people. Memories of him helping the Terrans. Of trying to teach them a way
to take down a warrior with a thousand times their own strength.
Memories of him fighting to save Earth.
Shocked by that unexpected revelation, she did something no Protector should have. She let him withdraw. Her body
was glowing star-bright from her inner heat when
she threw him over her shoulder and rose onto her
toes, long muscles straining to fly. The uncounted tons of rubble that
had once been the Radisson exploded into the night sky as Jala and a
depleted Balan rose into the moonlit night.
Those who looked up in amazement saw a new star heading back to the heavens.
She was back in the snug, stone lighthouse, her refuge, a mere ten
minutes later. Located high on an ocean cliff where a fleck of the barren Highlands of
Scotland sat in the sea, it was a place of mists and filtered light that
few men dared to enter. The lighthouse was haunted with the souls of
perished sailors, or so the locals believed. The myth ensured her privacy if nothing
She lowered Balan into the bubbling hot tub she'd long ago built where the rotating light had
once been. His body sizzled and
steamed like quenching steel. He wasn't breathing, but he was Primal and
could go days without air in his lungs. More importantly, the boiling water
would restore his energy by morning. Then she would decide if she’d made
the right decision in letting him live.
Or finish him off, once and for all.
Christmas Eve, 2048, Neist Point Lighthouse, Isle of Skye, Scotland
“No, no, no,” the Commandant shouted as he ran onto the field. “A GAR can
disable a Prime in only one way. You’ve got to overload their ability to
metabolize orgone. To turn their energy inward on themselves.”
The steel statues that cluttered the yard were bent forward, slowly
slumping into puddles of molten metal. The recruits had fought their way
through the maze to take their first shot with a GAR, only to be shocked
and horrified by the power of the alien weapons. A direct hit from the sizzling beams vaporized rock and stone, and turned
steel molten with but a grazing touch.
Balan rolled his eyes as most of the men fired on the
“But Primal woman are more dangerous,” the Polish soldier said stubbornly.
“Had to hit first them.”
Balan rolled his eyes as he pointed at the shapeless blob that had once been a
woman's statue. “Janek, you got ta listen to what I say. That poor lass
over there will just soak up all that wondrous heat of yours and say thank
you sir as she twists your lovin’ head off!” His Scottish accent sounded
right at home near the castle of the MacLeod’s. He and his sister been
taken into the MacLeod family as children, inserted as deep cover agents,
and had grown up as Scotts. Their true birthplace, the planet Aria, was a
secret he and his sister had held until the invasion.
When the Arion attack began, she proved her origins by slaughtering her
foster family and had run off
to join a group of Arion soldiers. As far as he knew, she was still fighting
for the Empire. Probably on her back, Balan feared. He knew how the Empire
used Primal women. As living batteries, their orgone reserves fueling the men’s strength.
“Wondrous heat?” the soldier said in a daze. The unbelievably violent
glare of the charged-particle weapon in his hand had turned a half ton of steel into
so much molten slag in seconds. He’d never imagined a weapon so fearsome. He
wanted to throw it away and flee.
“Only to you, laddy. To a femme of my race, it would be but a warm
ray of sunshine.”
The German soldier beside him, Gunter, scoffed. “These are enhanced GARS.
Krupps craftsmanship. They were made to kill Arion scum.”
“And those soldiers you are going to fight, my boy, are much like your weapons.
Their armor and equipment get better every year. Genetics even. Technology, haven’t ya heard?”
Jala sat on the upper balcony of the lighthouse, watching her
husband as he struggled with the third group of recruits this year. She
was glad to be home again. She'd been traveling from one side of the world
to the other, recruiting the finest soldiers from the rag-tag remains of the
shattered armies of Earth. It took some persuading to ask dedicated
soldiers to abandon their comrades and country and join their irregular
army. She had to turn on the charm in the way only a Velorian could. The
combination of a beautiful woman and the mission of saving the planet was
husband, now called the Commandant,
then took the men under his wing and trained them to kill his own people.
As a defector, Balan had been sentenced to death by the Arion Command. In
their eyes, he'd committed a pair of capital sins: falling in love both
with both the Frails and with a Velorian femme.
Jala was of course a Protector, sent here with her sisters to stop the
mayhem. Instead, she'd fallen in love with the enemy. She was alive
because she’d stopped openly fighting the Arions.
She wasn’t a coward. But dying while facing the glowing
eyes of a Tset’lar wasn’t going to do anyone any good. Besides, the Tset’s
would be the first to leave once Command thought Earth was secure. Then their new army would strike. The soldiers they'd
recruited and trained, a few scant hundred of them, would be armed with Terran-enhanced
Arion weapons that could cut through the shields that the
Betans used. Beyond that, each of them would be trained in the art of
disabling a Pime.
The Arion Command would undoubtedly call them terrorists.
Balan called them, the Last Free Men. The LFM.
Most of them would die. But for every hundred
that did, they’d take out at least an equal number of Betans and force the Primes to engage the LFM
to save their men. Each time that happened, Jala would find and isolate
one of the Primes and deplete him.
It was a desperate plan, placing enormous burdens on the tiny Terran
contingent and Jala's power. If she failed, all was lost. But it might be enough
to reclaim Earth once the Arion main force had jumped back through the Falyleen wormhole. A handful of
Primes would be all they’d leave behind, and no Tset’s.
pleased by the plan, for he was her husband now and he knew how she would
have to deplete and kill the remaining Primes. But they both knew it was
the only way to rid Earth of the occupying army. With the LFM and Balan at
her side, they had a chance to eradicate the invaders.
It wasn’t a permanent solution. But it would take the Arion Command at
least five years to figure out what had gone wrong and return. In those
five years, Earth would have time to prepare for a second invasion. It was
possible to defeat Arions. Jala's people had been
doing it for centuries, at least until the Tset’lar showed up. Surely the
Velorian Saray’en would be active by then, and they’d even the score with
Jala sighed as she hugged her long legs to her chest. It was all so
depressing. She tried to cheer herself up by wondering who she should
bestow her personal gift of enhancement on in this class. She naturally
favored the handsome men, but knew they might not make the best use of it.
She studied all the men, finally to narrow her choice to the blonde giant from Norway, Lars, and the
American Marine, Stephen. They would both graduate at the head of this
class, even without her gift. She sighed and opened her eyes slightly,
their clothes vanishing before
her tachyon vision as they exercised. They were both very endowed men. No
reason to favor one or the other from that perspective. She finally
decided to make her decision based on the way they
kissed. An irrational basis perhaps, but in a world reeling under alien
invasion, it was as good a reason as any.
Tomorrow was mid-course. A field exercise where she would try to banish
the ingrained doubt that their
tactics and weapons could work against the Arions. They'd seen their
comrades slaughtered by the thousands when the Arions attacked. Handguns
against ray guns. Her goal was to turn the men into true believers,
and then use their new enthusiasm and confidence to get them through the
second half of the grueling course.
She smiled at that thought. She was going to be blasted to the very edge
of oblivion by weapons that belonged in those old Terran science fiction
movies. She was going to ask these men to try to hurt her in the most intimate
way. As frighteningly arousing as that was, a combination of emotions
only a Velorian could appreciate, it was the effect on the men’s
confidence that she most looked forward to.
Mid-course was also a welcome break for the men. After the exercise, they would enjoy their first leave since
they'd arrived in Scotland. They'd go to the village and act as soldiers
always did after they’d been cooped up in
training for weeks. Many of the local girls even looked forward to those nights
of debauchery. There weren’t a lot of men left at home, given the war and
She and Balan would take their own pleasures in the otherwise empty
MacLeod castle. Given all
the energy she’d be carrying after the demonstration, their sex would be
legendary. The stone fortress, his childhood home, would be a bit worse for the wear, but it
would still be standing. It had survived many battles over the centuries,
and unlike a flimsy modern hotel, Scottish granite would not be reduced to rubble by
The actinic glare of GAR-fire lit the practice field below her with liquid fire as
another squad exited the maze and attacked a new group of steel statues.
One soldier fired his weapon too long at the same target, and the steel
not only melted by vaporized, leaving a smoking hole in the ground.
Krupps Industries had indeed enhanced the weapons.
Jala watched with professional interest for a moment before rising to return inside the
lighthouse. She floated down the spiral staircase to the living quarters
and started to prepare dinner. The simple domestic task of cooking was the
best therapy for her melancholy, and one of her few pleasures on this
backward, war-torn world. An irony since neither she nor her husband
needed food for the usual reasons. Their energy ultimately came from the
stars, and food was just a source of trace nutrients.
Tomorrow her energies would come from some synthetic starstuff called a
And his, in turn, would come from her.
And if she was really lucky, she'd give Balan a Christmas gift he'd never
forget. Hopefully, conception would not be just a word.
Christmas Day, 2048, Neist Point Lighthouse, Isle of Skye, Scotland
Christmas Day dawned overcast and cold. A Scottish winter day, fortunately
without snow so far this winter. Balan dressed in layers like his men, the
brightly colored clothing things his wife picked out from the back closets
of MacLeod castle. His wild hair and scruffy beard making him look like an
outlaw. Jala liked the
look. It made him look a little dangerous and very sexy. Like a scoundrel.
She dressed as she always did for the mid-course. A
sleeveless dress, very short hem, made of thin cotton, brightly printed.
Nothing beneath it. An intensely feminine look, and very sexy. Given that
she was going to demonstrate the ultimate in physical power, she wanted
the paradox of delicate femininity and a goddess' power to drive her lesson
home even more strongly.
The men huddled together in the stone courtyard below, bundled up against
the wind, shivering despite their many layers. The freezing wind off the
Atlantic was bitter cold, carrying small pellets of ice that lashed the
men, stinging like buckshot. She descended to walk among them, ignoring
the hail, looking as warm as if she was standing on a sunny summer
beach. Her blonde hair glowed as if sunlit, and her bare skin tanned despite the season. She greeted some men with her
firm handshake, others with a brush
of her soft lips. When she reached Lars, she lifted her arms to wrap
them around his broad neck, and kissed him long and soulful. He stiffened
and then relaxed, finally returning her kiss in kind. A nice kiss, but no lightning,
She repeated her intimate embrace when she got to Stephen, and he did not
hesitate. His hands lowered to grip her backside tightly, pulling her
against his body. A wild tingle filled warmed her as he pressed his
growing hardness against her sex, then lifted the hem of her skirt
suggestively. He was clearly no stranger to women. She stepped back to take his hand in hers, and led him
smiling back into the now empty barracks.
A smattering of applause and a few whistles floated back through the door
as the less fortunate soldiers climbed into the trucks. They began the winding drive up to the top of the moor.
Balan sat with the men, staring back at the camp. The men in turn watched
him as they realized he was staring through both distance and the rock walls
of the canyon. The look on his face made it clear what he was watching.
wondered how they'd feel if their wife behaved so wantonly. But mostly,
they just marveled at what it would be like to be lucky enough to have a
wife so perfectly beautiful, and so erotically willing.
The road eventually grew too steep for the trucks, and Balan was forced to
blink his eyes back to normal. He got out and pushed the trucks up the
final grade to a clearing where they could unload. He resented Jala's
improvised addition to his training plan. Her chosen man from each class
would need more of the retrovirus at least once a year if not more often.
A brief unbidden image of them lined up outside his bedroom made his
He suppressed that disturbing thought as best he could as the men piled out to
begin hiking the rest of
the way to the top. There they spread out, looking for defensive positions
behind rocks and the hilly terrain.
Jala arrived under her own power, a blonde angel swooping down from heaven.
An angel who'd just shared her most intimate self with another man.
Unfortunately, her body produced the enhancement retrovirus only during
her moment of passion, and only to the man lying between her legs.
leaned back against Balan as they watched the men prepare, a hint of Velorian arrogance
clear in her expression. She always looked this way after loving.
Balan smelled the musk and felt her warmth rising.
"How was Stephen?"
"Skillful. That's why I'm here so quickly."
It wasn't the answer he'd wanted to hear. He once again tried to quell his jealousy as he traced his fingers gently down the inside of her thigh, finding a
wetness that wasn't hers alone. She opened her legs wider as if in
invitation. There was
nothing to hide anymore.
The men tried not to stare at her, but they'd heard
all the rumors about Velorians. How they'd been engineered for sexuality
and for power. She looked so proud, almost haughty this morning.
Jala usually managed to hide that pride beneath
the veneer of humility that she’d donned since coming to Earth. Now she
was about to fulfill her birthright in full view of two dozen men. She
couldn’t help but feel like a goddess at moments like this. Her sense of ultimate superiority
came out as arrogance even as she tried to disguise it.
Balan broke the silence. “They will believe in us after today, love. In
you, at least.”
She smiled. “And you will remember who defeated whom in our first
fight. You’re going to be my slave the next couple of nights.”
“Ah, I’ll always be your slave, love. Isn’t that how Prime and Protector
are meant to be?”
“You are no woman’s slave.”
“No woman save the one who enslaves my heart,” he smiled.
She laughed. A pretty laugh, high and clear, almost girlish. “I’ll try not
to hurt you too badly then.”
“No worse off than the men are going to be,” he chuckled. “The town girls have them
outnumbered three to one. Those lassies have been primping and preppin’ for
the last week. It isn’t often that so many young lads come to town, with money in their pockets no less.”
“It isn’t what’s in their pockets that will amuse the girls.”
“Ah, the secret of the Men of the Lighthouse, as the lassies call them.”
Jala snuggled back further into his arms. “A simple gift of pheromones to
make them stronger.
Besides, our boys have to live up to their reputation as the saviors of
Earth. And they are outnumbered. I'm just evening the odds.”
Balan laughed. “I rather think it’s the last two months a watchin’ you
paradin’ around, the only woman in the camp, that has them on edge. Your
beauty has as much of an effect on the lads as on me.”
“A cumulative effect, no doubt.”
“I most certainly hope so, love,” Balan smiled as he leaned down to kiss
When the men were all in position, Jala rose from Balan's arms. Her feet
hovered just above the ground as she floated to the middle of the rocky
summit and addressed them.
"Today you have a live target, men. Your objective is simple. You've
trained for it, and you know how to do it. You must render me helpless. Do
not hold anything back. Your lives will depend on your skill someday, and
you will remember this moment as the time and place you truly learned to
She glanced through rock and tree to see the men breathing fast, fingers
tightening around the grips of their GARS, safeties off. Many of them
looked scared, all of them aroused in anticipation. A mismatched pair of emotions.
She decided to stoke the latter. She reached up and slid the straps of
her sundress from her shoulders. It slipped silkily down her body as she rose
higher into the air, the icy wind picking the dress up to send it flying across the summit and
over the edge
looked at the men with glowing eyes as they in turn stared at her, the arrogance of her
beauty clear on
her face now. A smoldering look to challenge the men, demanding that they rise to the demand of
the moment. Sill floating on air, she slowly dressed in a black skinsuit. The thin fabric
would vaporize in a GAR burst, but it would let the men know for sure
where they'd hit her.
She didn't have to wait long.
The first shot found the back of her head. A hundred thousand degrees of charged
particles made her hair glow like yellow sunlight, and the blast threw her
forward to land on her hands and knees. She twisted her head around around
and fired back, her eyes flashing lethally blue. The rock in front of the shooter
exploded, sending half molten granite flying in all directions.
The other soldiers fired now, as much to protect their fellow soldier as
to fulfill the duty of their exercise. Jala leaped up to swirl through the
air, dodging most of the bursts, trying to take the ones she couldn't
avoid against her upper body. Each miss scoured a deep gouge through the
earth, narrowing missing some of the soldiers, blasting the barren
Her chest soon began to glow star-bright as she absorbed the GAR energy.
She returned some of it, heating a hundred-foot tall boulder to
incandescence with her flashing eyes. The men dove away from it just
before it exploded from the moisture trapped inside the rock.
Balan was shouting at his men, telling them where to aim in rather graphic terms.
The men hesitated until he grabbed a GAR from one of the men and
targeted Jala correctly. The hell-fire splashed against her thighs,
vaporizing her blacks and making her skin glow like the sun. She dropped to her knees
in a torment of pain and pleasure.
It was mostly over a half hour later. They pinned her down with a
cross-fire from a half dozen GARs, reducing her world to the continuous
orgasm of that came from orgone intoxication. When the GAR's power cells
finally fade, the men advanced on her with their chains of gold. Too soon. The
golden restraints melted
when they touched her glowing skin. Jala rose to glare impudently at the men as
she stood naked, her hands on her hips, her
body empowered but hardly overwhelmed. They'd failed this first test.
It was then that the youngest of the soldiers, a recruit from Los Angeles,
scraggly beard and adorned with piercings, put an end to the charade. He activated an Arion Moz'en'del. The
feared matter/anti-matter grenade was near nuclear in its burst.
He tossed it suicidally at Jala.
Alarmed, she caught it, only to see the countdown timer moving
through one second to go. Knowing that an uncontained burst of alternate
matter would vaporize the summit and any humans within a quarter mile of
her, she boldly pressed the golf-ball-sized charge into the one place
where it couldn't hurt anyone else. She then crossed her legs and buried
her face between her knees and tensed her entire body.
A small star burst deep inside her, the violent shockwave exploding from
her skin to send rocks and boulders and men tumbling backward fifty yards.
The inferno expanded throughout her body, turning her skin nearly
transparent, heating her insides to thousands of degrees, her hair
billowing like spun gold.
The men hid behind boulders as the dangerous thermals singed made the rock
glow. When it subsided slightly, they stared around the edges of the glowing rocks with eyes wide to see
the Commandant walking up to his wife, unfazed by temperatures approaching
those of the sun. He reached down to take her in his
arms, the white-hot glow surrounding him as well now, his clothes igniting.
Moments later it became apparent how he was comforting her. A few
soldiers, less polite than the others, stared at the two lovers until
their comrades pulled them away. The men slowly formed up to march down the
hillside. They'd barely cleared the summit when the ground began to tremble rhythmically beneath their feet.
Looking back, they saw a blaze of sparks rising like a fountain from the
summit. A woman's clear cry of ultimate joy filled the air, only to be
joined by the hoarseness of a man's cry.
Their hearts raced as one from the wondrous scent of honey and wildflower that
blew on the wind now, a scent like that of a flowering meadow in summer.
They stormed through the door of their barracks and changed into their
civvies before racing into town.
With their minds and bodies impassioned from the sexy demonstration and
compelling scent, they intended to celebrate their success in the way that
sailors and soldiers had done since time immemorial.
Two days after Christmas, 2048, Isle of Skye, Scotland
Balan staggered exhaustedly into the barracks the next morning, only to find it deserted.
The men's training fatigues were tossed on their beds, and their civilian clothing missing.
He walked to the gatehouse to check with the guards. They reported that
the men had gone down to the town while the 'excitement' was going on back
on the hilltop. Balan was worried. They should have reported in by now.
He grabbed a Rover and headed down the rutted and rocky road. He found the
streets of Dunvegan deserted. A small fire was burning in the distance.
Startled by the quiet, for the town had been alive with Christmas cheer on
his last visit, he rounded a corner to see an Arion sentry outside the Blue Cheer
Hotel. The Blue was where his men hung out when on liberty.
He ducked down an alley and through the back door of the hotel. It was
quiet as a tomb inside. He walked cautiously down the hallway to peek
through the door and into the lobby.
He was shocked to see a very tall woman standing there, looking back at
him. His sister Sarah!
Her hair was different now. It was colored, red strands intermixed with
her native black, her eyes darkly shadowed. Her style looked like a cross
between early 21st century Gothic and Arion.
He pushed the door open and entered the lobby. His heart leapt as she
looked into his eyes, a tiny smile curling her lips. Perhaps she'd had a
change of heart as well, he told himself. Perhaps she'd come to join him,
to redeem the slaughter of their family, to help the people she'd grown up
But the Arion sentry outside the door suggested otherwise.
"Hello, brother dear," she said, her accent more Arion guttural than
lilting Scottish now.
"Long time, no see."
"Sarah, this is great. When did you get back here?"
"I couldn't wait for graduation this time. So I decided to come and help
your boys celebrate their mid-course."
Balan's eyes narrowed, suddenly wary. What did she know of his training
camp and his men?
Her smile faded. "You thought you could train these Frails right under our
noses, Balan? To train them to kill your own flesh and blood? Your own
"What are you talking..."
She angrily tossed her hair to the side to stop him. "I killed them all, Balan. Each
of your graduating classes, right after you released them to their
undercover assignments. Now this class, even before you have had time to
turn them into killers."
"What... what do you mean, you killed them all?"
She shrugged. "They assigned me to keep an eye on you. You are my brother.
Who else would know your heart? A heart that bleeds for these Frails."
The bile rose in Balan's stomach as he looked through the walls into the
adjacent rooms. His heart froze as he saw mayhem. Bodies were piled everywhere, arms and legs
twisted at odd angles, chests bent inward not outward, the mirror image of
Sarah's generous curves. Half the men were undressed, eyes glazed, fixed
and staring in their death. It wasn't hard to
imagine how Sarah had killed them. Arion style. In the act.
"Like a vampire and its prey," he gasped aloud, sickened at the
thought of his sister drawing the men to her, then using her body that way. Even more,
far more, he was horrified by the
loss of his men. Good men.
Sarah laughed as she watched his face. "A nice analogy. But it wasn't their blood I tasted. And if
they were the best Terra has to offer, I pity you and your hopeless
cause. Not one of them got me off."
Balan's thoughts began to spin as a dizzying wave of nausea dropped him to his knees. He
over a trash can and lost it, the tears running down his cheeks as his
stomach emptied. He saw the faces of the proud men he'd worked so hard to
train. The last year of his and Jala's lives, all
wasted? "How... how many?"
"Ninety-eight. But who's counting."
A hundred had graduated.
"And if you're wondering about the other two," she said as if reading
his mind, "I recruited them. They had... potential. Thanks to your
blonde whore's bit of enhancement. I should thank her for giving me such useful slaves."
Balan leaped back to his feet to grab his sister's arms. He slammed her
back against the wall. "No more, Sarah. Leave this place now. Otherwise I
will... I will..."
"Will, what? Kill me?" Sarah laughed as she pushed back against his
Growing up, they'd often tested their developing muscles against each others. Balan had always
been stronger. Yet this time it was his arms that began to shake. Sarah
clenched her teeth, strong tendons visible along her neck as she pushed him
backward, her body flexing like spring steel. "You are growing soft like your Frails. Seeking tenderness
with your whore. You need an Arion femme in you arms to keep you strong."
Balan grunted in pain as his body bent painfully backward beneath his sister's tremendous strength.
"She... Jala will stop you even if I can't."
Sarah laughed. "The blonde witch with such wondrous charms
between her legs? A Velorian fucking machine? I'm not worried about her."
"She'll track you down," Balan shouted as his new hatred flared. Hatred
of anything Arion. "She'll destroy all of your kind. Extinguish
"Your own race?" Sarah taunted. "You were not born to coddle these frail
humans. And then to sleep in the arms of those blonde killers. How did she
do it, Balan? How did she seduce you into being a traitor? Is she that
good in bed?"
"I've seen the truth, Sarah," he cried out, pleading. "A truth you could
see too if you'd only open your eyes."
"You are deluded. And it's too late anyway. The other four of my Arylan
are with that bitch now. I don't think she's going to be coming after
anyone. Not even to save you, my brother."
She twisted his arms painfully around his back and slammed his face
against the wall just as the door burst open.
Two burly Arion males walked through it, their eyes sparkling a lethal
blue, igniting the far wall. The one with the most silver on his shoulders stopped in front of
Balan, jerking him back around to backhand him across the face. The blow sounded like a gunshot.
"Blonde-lover. Traitor," he spat at him, his breath foul. He looked over Balan's
shoulder at Sarah. "Finish him off here, Lieutenant. You know the way. I
have the Velorian to attend to."
Balan heard his sister gasp from behind him as the officer spun around on
his heel and marched from the room. The door dangled half off its hinges. He
glanced back to see
Sarah's startled expression in the mirror. They both knew there was only
one way for a female Prime to kill a male.
He pushed that twisted thought away, instead opening his eyes to scan
through the wall, trying to see all the way back to the lighthouse. He saw
a half dozen Arion Vignays hovering over the training grounds, but no sign of
Jala. His heart went out to her, his wishes flying her way, hoping she'd
Whatever his fate, his wife still had a world to save.
And his daughter to bear.