Wild Space Pt. 03

Ehren sat and watched her work, fingers curling into the sides of his chair. Her big dark eyes stared up at him. When his own drifted he caught sight of her ass and back and the bottoms of her feet in the room's elegant full body mirror. That pushed him over the edge. With a soft moan that ended in a harsher grunt, Ehren climaxed, hips driving form the chair. His first spurt came as the head of his member was sandwiched deep into Lydia's cleavage. After a moment or two the servant expertly slid him free and took him into her mouth just in time to orally milk the lion's share of cum she'd earned. Big hands kept him in place and trembling long after Lydia had drawn out all of his fluid.

The nobleman was reduced to heavy breathing and shivers, like he was something writhing on a hook. Ehren wanted to sit up, spank her for her insolence, have her chastised for giving him pleasure when he had not ordered it. His usual fervor for punishment was curbed by an overriding sense of lassitude, both physical and cerebral. Absently, he pushed her away by her shoulders, but the gesture was halfhearted. When she placed sweet, tender kisses on his thighs instead he didn't stop her.

"Thank you,my lord," Lydia said primly, wiping her mouth. "Should you require anything further..."

Her strut spoke volumes as she left. Ehren helped himself over to the bed, and fell into its still moist depths, and folded his arms behind his head. Lydia had given him plenty to think about, but now all he wanted to do was sleep.

*********************

It was fight night. Somehow, Marik had managed to convince Xandra and Lex to stay in the Queen Bee, but it was a near thing. Abaro bought a bottle of tsara from Kim's and off they went.

"Anyone interesting tonight?" Marik asked his friend as they walked to the traditional copse of trees, handing the bottle back and forth.

"We'll see, but I feel the need to hit something." Abaro had big tattooed arms and he smashed his left fist into his open right hand. From any other man or braggart it might have seemed an empty gesture, but Marik knew better. He pitied the first man to offer the traditional challenge to Abaro tonight.

Inside the copse, they were already lighting the gourds. They paid their allotted silvers and took a few sips of tsara to start off the night. Abaro muttered something and strode to the center of the circle, shedding his shirt as he did so. He was muscular and what little of his body wasn't tattooed was very pale. His fists were already raised and waiting.

"Hey there, stranger," A voice at his side said. Nerves made Marik jump a bit, but when he recognized Tira, he smiled weakly.

"What's got you all jumpy?" Playfully, she pinched his bicep. Her eyes were mischievous, lit up with tsara and the prospect of ritual bloodshed.

Marik didn't answer. In the circle, Abaro was squaring up with a fellow who looked scrappy but was at least thirty pounds lighter in body weight. Silver was clinking all around him and voices were rising as the fight was joined.

It was short and ugly. Abaro took a brief flurry of punches to his body as he lined up his shot, a devastating left to the chin. His slinky opponent fell to the ground in shambles, ankles kicking out furrows of sand, and was still.

"What's got into him? Tira wanted to know.

"It's been a long few days. Are you fighting tonight?" Marik asked.

"I'm thinking about it." She said. "There's some new, big girl that made a splash here last night. She is so good they said she could fight a man. I am hoping she shows up."

Women fighting. Marik didn't like it, but he also didn't want to drive her off. "New girl?"

"Big redhead, fights real nasty. I didn't hear much else." Tira lowered her voice. "In fact...look beyond the copse."

He raised his eyes. The woman was curvy, far bigger than most women on Azura unless they were the heads of fishing families. Her dress was native, but everything else was foreign. Her skin was milky white, as if she didn't spend a lot of time in the sun. Despite her bulk she moved with a dangerous fluidity, very much apparent as she padded over the sand and silence came over the tiny space in between the trees.

The redhead was cautiously approached by that night's bet taker, and she slapped a pair of silvers into his outreached hand. She took an authoritative slug of tsara from the ceremonial bottle. No one else seemed eager to step up.

Marik had his hand on Tira's arm as she stepped into the circle, but it was shrugged off or the woman didn't feel it. Tira had always been bold, a feisty one, and had fought numerous victories before. But something about the way the foreign redhead moved alarmed Marik, even as a man. He didn't want his friend to get hurt, but he was too late. Abaro was at his side, worry even on his craggy tough face.

"Some offworld, Capital cunt," Tira said aloud, causing an audible gasp. Women on Azura customarily didn't use such language.

"Oh, save it, she's not from here. She doesn't know how Azurans fight, not yet." Someone muttered in the circle.

"You gonna teach her?" Abaro shouted through cupped hands, to a cheer from a handful of people. "Teach that foreign bitch a lesson!"

Marik felt some of his fear evaporate as the ragged cheer rose to a roar. Dangerous or not, this big redhead was on his planet, among his people. Tira would be safe, she wouldn't be-

The smaller woman was running at the redhead before any of them had stopped cheering, hoping to catch her opponent by surprise. The offworlder simply side stepped the charge and in the same motion wrapped an arm around Tira's throat. Immediately a choking sound was heard, so loud it cut through the sounds of the surrounding men and women's cheers and gasps. The redhead wrung her opponent around by the neck, like an animal shaking prey in its jaws. The bigger woman picked her opponent up easily, squatted and even flexed her knees slightly, deepening the chokehold.

"Let her go!" Someone shouted, and a few people stepped forward.

Tira was dumped onto the sand unceremoniously, like a net full of fish being spilling open onto the deck of a boat. She didn't move, and the redhead stood over her impassively. Her eyes were big, and brown. Marik was close enough to see that one was twisted outward slightly, and that they drank in the torch light around them. They raked the circle surrounding her, searchingly. They all had a few minutes to take in the hard look before she strode out of the copse.

With the strange foreign woman in town, Marik thought it best to make himself scarce. He had a fairly good idea of what to do next, but that didn't make it any easier. And for that, Abaro would be needed. After the redhead left the circle, he tapped his friend urgently. The dockside thug didn't waste a word, which Marik appreciated. He wouldn't have wanted his last breath to be some needless explanation.

********************

Phillias moved through the sparse trees, the smell of the salt and sand and fish in her nose. She thought that this world was barbarous and backwards. Phillias was no fan of aliens or common people but a few days of listening and mingling in this planet's tiny town had shocked even her. The women were oppressed by the men. The aliens were not allowed to work or live in their homes in the water.

It did have some benefits, however. This rustic backwater had a cleaner scent than her own world. The air was constantly filled with the smell of the ocean, and no mask or goggles were needed. Even the spaceport, such as it was, was pleasant and clean on Azura. The ocean and sun made for a salubrious change of pace. Pausing a moment, the hatchet maid wiggled her bare toes deep into the pure white sand. Perhaps one day, when her service to Lord Ehren was over and she was wealthy enough to retire, she would do so here. The human women on Azura were kissed by the sun, modest and shy, completely unlike the outspoken noblewomen on Valantier. It would be pleasant to swim and eat fish and fruit all day, and then to fight each night, to seduce the rough local sailors and then taking their meek women in turn.

The unnamed town, as it was the only town on the planet, was noisy even after sun down, but tonight, even from a distance, it seemed unnaturally so. There was not much in the way of advanced technology on Azura, and so she was confused at the bright lights shining through the palms. As she got closer, the noises took on a different note: frantic, high pitched. This wasn't a busy night at the local tavern, she realized. Something was very wrong.

***********************

"Old Aune is on a whaling voyage but he'll be back in town soon," Abaro was saying as they walked through the trees in the cool night breeze. "He can do it."

"So can we." Marik said.

"All three of them? No. Three man job for three women." The brawny tattooed man replied. He hesitated. "Marik, don't you think-"

"I have," He replied grimly. "There's no other way. It's us versus them, Abaro. I've brought the devil to our house."

"You ain't kidding," Abaro said. "Still..it's nothing that hasn't been done a million times before. Get them on a skiff, row for a while, bleed them and drop 'em overboard. Simple and easy."

"Simple, but not easy." Marik said. "The little one, she'll be fooled and taken easily, but the two big ones...we aren't going to get them on the same boat. We'll have to take out Lex and Xandra first and then somehow track down this bounty hunter."

"What if we track her down and tell her what we did? Think she'll leave us alone?"

"I doubt it." Marik had asked the two Valantier noblewomen about the hatchet maid, Phillias. From what he understood she wasn't likely to be satisfied with going home empty handed. She would want to do the job herself and bring home a souvenir for her master. Somehow, he also knew that Phillias wouldn't appreciate her job being done for her. Professionals never did.

"Do you feel that?" Abaro asked.

"No." Marik was wearing a pair of boots, unusual on Azura, but his friend was barefoot. But even as he spoke he felt the vibrating through the sand.

Neither man had ever been a soldier, but both had fought. Marik had been in a handful of engagements in the Queen Bee, ship to ship, and later on would credit that to his survival. Abaro was more of a brawler, a man who made his word and will known through his fists, unfamiliar with a great deal of modern weaponry in action.

No matter the case, as Abaro was shot through the center of his chest and fell wordlessly onto the hard packed sands, Marik knew if the killer had been aiming at him instead he would have died just as violently and suddenly, fighter or not. Just as Abaro was dying now.

******************************

Marik had never seen so much fire in all his life. Not even on Valantier, a world of mines, smelting pits and every kind of toxic industry. Intellectually, he knew it wasn't fire that was in the skies of Azura, but it comforted him. And as he slogged through the sands, feeling the heat and hearing all of the noise around him, the far off screams, Marik felt he needed to be comforted.

He had only barely entered town, looking for help, when it began. The soldiers emerged from the tall trees that surrounded the town, even from the sacred places where men and women fought one another. They were clad head to toe in strange, crinkly black suits and wielded rifles held high. Time and time again the rifles coughed out harsh beams of light. The simple humans on Azura knew of such weapons in an abstract sense but hadn't ever seen them used in such mass action before. Bodies fell to the sand peppered with neatly cauterized wounds.

After that, Marik had ran faster than he ever had in his life, as if he'd inhaled an entire white vibrant in one whiff. Many others joined him, shouting about fish men rising from the sea. More rifle fire erupted behind them, cutting men, women and children down as they fled. Before long he was on his own, and after he caught his breath and was able to think he realized it was all for the better. The less people around him, the safer he would be. He had to get to the docks, and not the few lazily placed landing spots for spaceships on Azura. The fishing docks, of which there were many. Right now, the safest place on the planet would be the water. He hoped.

He walked. The light from weapons fire and ships was intermittent and punctuated with bursts of sound. Sometimes it was screams, quickly silenced. Others it was the tiniest skitter of movement in the sand from multiple pairs of feet. Whenever he heard either, Marik would change directions and increase his stride. People were dying all around him, and there was no need to keep quiet, only the need to keep moving. Any direction except backwards that he headed would work; the ocean was always only a few days journey on Azura.

****************

The soldier had been cut off from their squad, Philias soon saw, and was likely suffering from a suit malfunction. Otherwise the hatchet maid would have been detected as she tiptoed around. The soldier wore a crinkly black suit and stepped gingerly on the sand, as if it was an unfamiliar substance. Idly, as she stalked behind him, she wondered if it was a man or a woman.

She soon got her answer: the soldier leaned his rifle against a tree he liked, faced it and fumbled around at his crotch. Silently, the hatchet maid shook her head. She was no soldier, never had been, but enough admirals and generals called Valantier home for her to know one didn't put their weapon down to stop for a deaf piss break. She resolved to make him pay for his mistake.

Phillias had to be careful. The soldier still wore his helmet and armor. She had no idea to what extent it was all functioning, and its hardness and durability undoubtedly gave him the edge. She would need to ambush him, and fast, now, while his back was turned as he pissed.

As her long legs ate up the distance between her and three, it never occurred to the hatchet maid to surrender or to explain herself. A Capital soldier or sailor would kill her immediately, if she was lucky. If she wasn't he'd rape her before he killed her. If she was truly fated he'd subdue her, rape her, and take her with him when he left Azura a smoldering ruin. She couldn't allow any of that to happen.

The steady stream of urine stopped pattering onto the sand when she was as close as she was likely to get. Phillias reared back with her bare foot, and kicked him hard in the back, right above his ass, cracking the front of his helmet against the trunk of the palm tree. Smoothly, with an economical and fluid grace, she caught him around the waist when he shakily ricocheted back towards her, and fell backwards while driving and bridging hard with her entire body.

The soldier was toppled bum over teakettle onto his shoulders, the back of his head colliding audibly with the back of his helmet. He barked a curse at her, and scrambled to his knees. She cursed him right back, and cursed the soft sands of Azura. He'd hit his head hard, twice, but not hard enough to stun him. Had she been able to dump him onto a harder surface his back would have been broken.

She struggled with him mightily, both of them flailing at one another for dominance in the moonlight. After he was over his initial surprise, he fought her just as smoothly and skillfully. He had probably learned combatants in his training, been in a bar fight or two in his day. Once, when one of his hands were free, he hit her as hard as the close quarters allowed, right in the mouth as it hung open, gasping for breath. She fought through the pain and the salty explosion of blood in her mouth, and slugged him right back through the faceplate of his helmet. It couldn't have hurt much, but she felt the need to send a message.

Try as she might, the soldier was winning. He was smaller than her, weighed less and her reach was greater, but he was in much better condition and was far more muscular. He flipped her over onto his shoulders and then grunted as he tossed her onto the sand, right onto her back, and her breath went out of her with a great whoosh.

The soldier scrambled to his knees, facing her awkwardly, and raised both fists for a killing blow. Reflexively, Phillias's own hands rose to protect her face. The hatchet maid didn't closed her eyes. She was ready for it, ready for whatever mauling and slaughtering double fisted attack this man was going to use to end her life. She would die staring into the face of her enemy.

A rifle whined, and the soldier looked up, his expression changing through the transparent faceplate. It was all the distraction Phillias needed. She leaped to her knees with the speed of a woman much smaller and more aerodynamically built. The soldier didn't even have time to cry out before she ended his life with a sharp knife handed chop to his adam's apple, right at the slightly flexible joint of his armored suit. He spat blood, right against the inside of his clear faceplate, and toppled over with a horrible liquid gurgle.

"Wooo," Marik said as he lowered the smoking rifle. "I wish I'd hit him, because that was brutal, lady."

***********************

The Queen Bee was firmly anchored onto the hard packed sand of the landing field, but whatever was going on around it was jiggling the freighter around on its struts. A handful of deep metal clanks and achingly loud groans went through the hull of the vessel, and with each one Lex clutched Xandra closer to her. When the weapons fire came off in the distance, both women crept from the bed to the cockpit.

The viewer was covered by the Bee's flimsy plate of armor for extra protection and stealth. Lex searchingly looked at the blank, dark purple surface of it, as if she could somehow see through it.

"Move that thing aside. We need to see," Lady Lex ordered.

"What makes you think I know how to do that?" Xandra asked quite honestly. "I'm your handmaiden, not a bloody flight instructor."

"Just...push a button or pull a lever or move one of these," Lex said, flicking a marble set into the dashboard of the Queen Bee.

"Careful! You don't know what you're doing anymore than me." The serving woman's eyes searched the controls. "There...blast screen. That must be it."

With another clank, the Bee's servos set to reeling back the protective screen over its viewer. The sight that greeted them was less than welcome: an entire flotilla of Capital Navy drop ships, their wing like doors open on each side, empty of troops.

"The Navy is using this as a staging area to invade the planet," Lex said in a panicked tone.

"Close it back up," Xandra said urgently, and her lover did, leaving them in darkness and silence.

For a few minutes, each woman was quiet. They could all too well picture what was happening to the gentle fisherfolk of Azura: the death and the violation.

"Maybe we can out there and explain who we are," Lex heard herself saying. "They'll have to take us back home then, they can't-"

"They can and they will do as they please," Her lover said quietly. "You know that as well as I."

"That's preposterous." Lex said, more to reassure herself than to argue. "I am of noble blood, I am the lady wife of a lord on Valantier!"

"They don't care. If we don't find a way off of this planet they'll search this ship, find us, and rape us." Xandra said, voice shaking.

"Fine, fine." Lex replied shortly, sick of the back and forth. "Take us up and take us home. We'll discuss this all with Lord Ehren."

"There's no home, stupid girl!" Xandra exploded. "Don't you get it? We're on our own now. You and me. We can't go back to Valantier or your husband. He'll have us killed the minute he sees us and after a very public period of mourning for the benefit of his peasants and adversaries we'll be a story he tells at cocktail parties. Nothing more."