Siren's Call

SIREN’S CALL By Cassandra Kane

© copyright March 2007, Cassandra Kane Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright March 2007 New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

He’s here! Wake up! Alarija woke, her eyes snapping open in terror as the voice shouted inside her head. Heart pounding, she sat up and looked about her darkened chamber for Marsalir, her bodyguard. In the last weeks he’d slept on a mattress just outside her room and she’d been able to see the outline of his form in the candlelight, a soothing presence. But now the doorway leading to the corridor was dark, the candle-holders unlit and unattended. She remembered that he’d gone the day before, evacuated with the last of the Council in the last shuttle leaving for the Universal Alliance starship. He’d protested all the way, but he’d gone and left her all the same. She expelled her caught breath and thought about the voice that had woken her. It hadn’t been the usual whispering from The Master. It was distinct and different, a woman’s voice. It may have been Tal’an, the Goddess, only the voice was more familiar than that. For a moment Alarija wondered if it had been a futurecast, a warning from her future self to her present self. But a futurecast was impossible. For her, there was no future. Pink fingers of light from the encroaching dawn began to filter into the room. Unable to return to sleep, Alarija rose from her bed and padded across the white marble floors and through the open wood-carved doors to the terrace outside. She leaned her hands on the balustrade and took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. A light breeze lifted her dark hair, drying the sweat at the back of her neck, blowing caressingly over her naked body. She shivered as her nipples sprang to attention. Attention was what they longed for, Alarija thought as she brushed her hand over the hard nubs. Although Marsalir had been gone a day, she thought about him constantly. He had been her bodyguard and had been chosen to protect her, to serve her. He’d done that--and more. A stabbing heat still sprang between her thighs at the mere thought of his hot tongue between them. How well they’d kept it hidden from The Elders. Marsalir had been considered safe, literally unable to de-flower her, because of the ritual removal of his manhood. They’d never thought of the eunuch’s other attributes and his willingness to use them for her exclusive pleasure.

She closed her eyes and imagined Marsalir’s tongue on her breasts the last time they had been together. It had been here, on this terrace, overlooking the vast ocean of Zalaban. It had been high tide and waves of warm water had leaked through the balustrade and washed over the marble floors, swirling around their ankles. **** Marsalir had been distraught that The Elders had finally told him to leave. “I will not leave you, Mistress,” he had said, staring at her with unabashed longing. “They cannot make me leave you.” “They can and they will.” She was weary. “You knew this when you came here.” “But to leave you here, all alone on Zalaban.” He swept his hand back to indicate the great expanse of the ocean that surrounded them. “That was always my destiny.” Why had she sounded so self-assured, so confident? Only because she had never been able to imagine the reality of it. She had never been alone, not truly alone. There had always been servants, courtiers, the daily visits of The Elders, the endless Zalaban Council meetings. And, in the privacy of her chamber, Marsalir. “They’ll come for you soon,” she said softly. “The United Alliance ships have already arrived.” “I won’t go, Mistress,” Marsalir said wildly. “My duty is to stay with you.” “Your duty is to do as you’re told,” she said harshly. He stared at her in surprise. Alarija knew that if he was not prepared to abide by The Law then she had to. She had to be firm with him because that was her duty. To be the last person on Zalaban, a sacrifice to The Sacred Eye above. Marsalir crossed his arms over his bare chest and bowed his head, acknowledging her authority. Alarija looked at his powerful biceps, the play of muscles over his chest and abdomen, which was already beginning to thicken. He’d go soft soon, she thought with an internal sigh. An inevitable side-effect of the emasculation. He’d offered himself for the process, for the honour of serving her. Now she wanted him to have that honour for the last time. “Look at me, Marsalir,” she said softly. “Look at me and pleasure me.”

As he raised his head, Alarija concentrated until a shimmer of energy swept over her body. Guided by her mind, she felt the jewelled belt at her waist unclasp itself and fall to the floor. She willed the flimsy pieces of her tunic to slide over her shoulders. They slithered down the length of her body and lay in a silken pool at her feet. She stood before him, voluptuously naked, basking in the glow of Marsalir’s unmistakable desire. “You’re so beautiful, Mistress,” Marsalir groaned. He reached out for her, placing his large, warm palms over her generous breasts. Alarija held her breath as his thumbs moved restlessly over her hardening nipples, stoking a slow heat at her core. He bent his dark head, his tongue taking the place of his thumbs, suckling at one pink nipple and then other while his hands stroked down over her waist, over her hips. She gasped as his hand trailed along her hips and between her thighs, parting the folds of her cunt. He slid his finger inside, penetrating smoothly at her wet readiness to receive him. Two fingers and then three wedged themselves inside her and began to pump and gyrate inside her. She moaned and spread her legs wide as she felt herself filled, as his thumb flicked and circled her hot center. While his teeth scraped against her nipples and pulled hungrily at the swollen tips, he attempted to wriggle a fourth finger inside her. She stiffened. “No, Marsalir,” she panted. “You mustn’t break me. I must remain a virgin.” “If only I could fuck you,” he’d growled, withdrawing the last finger. “I’d make you mine, Mistress. Truly mine.” “If you could, you would never have gotten this far,” she gasped as his thumb worked over her clitoris and she felt the climax rising. “Use your tongue, Marsalir. Fuck me with your tongue.” He grasped her full buttocks in his hands and lifted her, stepped up to the wall of the terrace and set her down. She leant back against the cool marble as Marsalir fell to his knees before her. The eunuch buried his face between her thighs, his tongue caressing the folds of her cunt. Alarija hooked a leg over his broad shoulder, opening herself to him, and gasped as his tongue thrust inside her. She stared up at the Sacred Eye which burned like a flaming torch in the green sky, her hands fisted in his hair, holding on to him as he clasped his hands around her buttocks, squeezing her closer. He lapped at her hungrily, teeth scraping across her swollen nub, tongue pumping ceaselessly inside her. She pressed her hips into his face uncontrollably, crying out as waves of ecstasy rose, crested, and rolled over her with shuddering intensity. He’d licked the overflowing juices from inside her, then sat back on his heels and eyed her tenderly. A few hours later he was gone.

**** Remembering Marsalir’s mouth, Alarija moaned now as she tweaked at her nipples. She felt between her legs, parting the slick folds of her pussy, and slid her finger over her swollen bud. She rubbed hard and fast, aching for the release from her restlessness, yearning for Marsalir’s ready tongue. She cried out as the orgasm shuddered through her. It was over quickly and she sobbed as the last vestiges of pleasure abandoned her. She had never felt so alone. You’ll weaken yourself, little one, the voice whispered in her head. “I don’t care,” she said as the tears spilled over her cheeks. “I’m not dead yet.” Your time will come soon, the voice whispered. We wait for it. We need you to be pure and strong. She looked out over the ocean. In the far distance among the restless waves, a great beast surfaced. His unimaginable mass bobbed in the water as a long neck rose up like a great snake. Alarija felt the black eyes of the beast glaring at her across the distance. Then he let out a hoarse, echoing cry before the head dove beneath the waves, followed by his huge bulk. Alarija noted the blue stripe down his sleek back. It was Orogo, the Grand Master himself. As he plunged below the waves, he flipped his long tail at her dismissively before sliding into the dark ocean depths. She had been warned, Alarija thought, shivering. She stared at the bubbling water where Orogo had disappeared. If he had shown himself to her after so many years, it could only be a warning that she could no longer disperse her sexual energy. The time was too close. Fear gripped her and her hands began to shake. “Control,” Alarija whispered. She stepped back and summoned the power, curling her arms up before her to draw it to her. A large wave rose from the ocean, jetted up over her balustrade, twisted up in the air and fell in a hard shower. She gasped as the cold water slapped down over her, instantly cooling her heated body. “Tal’an, save me,” she whispered, pushing back her dripping hair as she stared up at the Sacred Eye which burned ever larger in the sky. In the same sky, hovering high up in the atmosphere, she could also see the metallic expanse of the last United Alliance starship making ready to leave. A week ago the sky had been filled with starships hovering over the blue oceans of Zalaban, like gulls over flotsam. Shuttles had zoomed back and forth

from the starships to the small landmasses scattered over Zalaban, aiding in the mass exodus, saving its citizens and abandoning the planet to its destruction beneath the impact of the Sacred Eye. Alarija prayed beneath her breath, but she wasn’t really sure if she was praying to the Goddess or to the last starship. **** “It’s done, Captain,” Commander Sorovski said with a brief salute. Captain Gerano Lasalle glanced at him. “At ease, Commander. We’re alone.” Sorovski let his stiff shoulders slouch as he leaned on the railing of the viewing platform next to Gerry. The captain was wearing the Special Forces full dress uniform, his bearing powerful in the high-buttoned collar of the short jacket that emphasized his broad shoulders and drew attention to long legs and lean hips. Though Sorovski was wearing a similar uniform with the insignia of his rank, his shorter, stockier build could never make him look as authoritative as the Captain. Of course, Gerry’s dark good looks went a long way. More than a couple of the female crew fairly were plainly trying to seduce him, though the Captain seemed entirely oblivious to their ploys. Sorovski turned his attention to the teaming mass of humanity invading the cavernous cargo hold of the starship Lucero six stories below. Thousands of men, women, and children were swarming through the procedure for the assignment of living quarters. “We’ve got ‘em all, Gerry,” Sorovski told him. “Every last one of ‘em.” Gerry lifted an eyebrow. “You sure?” Sorovski grinned. “Now Gerry, do you doubt my word?” Gerry smiled. “I’d never doubt you, Soro. You can’t doubt the man who saved your life.” “Aw, you’ll make me blush.” Nevertheless, Gerry knew Sorovski was pleased by the comment. They’d met in boot camp fresh out of school, though Gerry had risen quickly through the ranks of Universal Alliance Special Forces and left his companion behind. When Sorovski had been assigned to the Lucero, they’d been forced to keep the appearance of deference to rank when in public, but they’d gone drinking and brawling together too often in their youth to keep it up in private. They knew each other far too well for that. Soro had, after all, saved him from a knifing in a dark alley after one of their drinking sprees when they were fresh graduates.

“We evacuated a whole planet.” Soro shook his head in awe as he watched the confused crowd below them. “It boggles the mind if you really stop and think about it.” Gerry had been unable to think about anything else for the last three months since receiving the directive to evacuate Zalaban. Thirty-two starships were already carrying over 19 million people for re-settlement on various rim planets. The Lucero was the last, assigned to stay till the last minute to pick up even the most stubborn stragglers and to remove them by force if necessary. The newly elected UA Committee wanted their reputation untarnished by the disaster affecting Zalaban, for despite its miniscule population the planet was a powerful Committee member. They had to be powerful to have had all seventy-three members representing each of the civilized worlds in the Universal Alliance putting their various differences aside and agreeing unanimously to help with the evacuation. Or it had been. In a few days Zalaban would cease to exist, smashed by the giant asteroid poised to strike the center of the water-logged world. “We saved the humans and nothing more,” Gerry said softly. “There’s millions of native species living underwater that will be extinct in three days. Zalaban is nine-tenths ocean.” “Yeah, but we can’t bring a bunch of whales on a starship.” Soro shrugged. “We can’t save everything.” Gerry’s face clouded as he involuntarily thought of Lara, his wife, dead these last ten years. Their marriage had been brief and her face was beginning to fade in his memory, a fact that frustrated him if let himself dwell on it too often. Soro’s expression changed to one of mortification as he realised what he’d said. “Ger, I didn’t mean your wife … er …” “Lara.” Gerry smiled grimly. “Don’t worry about it, Soro. You never knew her, and it’s all in the past anyway.” “Don’t mean I don’t care.” Soro was embarrassed. “Me and my big mouth.” He’d heard that Lara had died in an explosion, which had decimated the experimental lab orbiting Earth where she’d been assigned as lead biologist. She’d tried to save some of her lab animals during evacuation and never made it to the shuttle. He didn’t think Gerry and she had been married a year. Gerry had been on a Special Forces mission. From all accounts, they hadn’t spent more than a couple of months together since their wedding day.

Gerry still talked about her when he got drunk, which wasn’t often nowadays considering his rank and responsibilities. He talked about how he should have been able to save her, even though he’d been half way across the galaxy when it happened. Guilt was a powerful thing. He could see it written all over Gerry’s face. It was the reason no woman ever had a chance with him. “Listen, Ger, we’re saving the population of a whole fucking planet,” Soro reminded him, his voice sounding a little more earnest than intended. “Don’t forget that. That counts for something.” “That counts for a lot, Commander,” Gerry said briskly. As though someone had pushed a light switch, Sorovski stood to attention at the Captain’s formal tone. He glanced around and saw a Special Forces groundsman in blue uniform running along the cargo hold’s viewing platform towards them. The guardsman skidded to a stop before them and gave a quick salute. “Captain,” he said breathlessly, “we have a situation.” “Report.” “One of the evacuees tried to commandeer a shuttle, sir. We managed to restrain him. He’s in custody.” “That’s suicidal. Why would he do that?” “Sir, he says there’s somebody still down there.” Gerry turned to Soro, frowning. “Commander, you said we had everyone.” Sorovski’s face had turned red. “As far as I know, Captain, we had.” “Who is this person?” Gerry asked the guardsman. “H-h-he came on the shuttle with the Zalaban Elders, sir,” the young soldier stammered, face turning pink at Gerry’s thunderous expression. “Bring him to my quarters. Now, soldier!” The guardsman ran off down the viewing platform. “I’m sorry, Ger. As far as I knew--“

“You’d better come, too,” Gerry interrupted, scowling. “If we left someone down there we better make damn sure we get them. This operation isn’t complete until we have every damn Zalaban citizen on board. Every last one, Commander.” “Yes, Captain.” Sorovski hurried after Gerry as he strode away. Sometimes Gerry’s job came before friendship. It had made him the captain of a starship, but he figured that it had to make for a lonely life. The worse part about it was that he knew Gerry preferred it that way.

Chapter Two

Gerry sat ramrod straight in his leather chair, his hands resting on his perspex desk. He sensed Sorovski nervously shifting his feet as he stood to Gerry’s right. He felt a moment of remorse at having barked at him, but he quashed that emotion ruthlessly. There was no room for weakness when lives were at stake. He’d learned that a long time ago when Lara had died stupidly and needlessly. The doors to his office opened and two Special Forces guardsmen escorted a man inside, his hands cuffed before him. The prisoner towered more than a head over both guards, who were both well over six feet tall. He wore a leather jerkin that revealed the bulging muscles in his massive shoulders and arms. Baggy, pleated trousers fell in soft folders over his trunk-like legs and were stuffed into calf-length red boots with wide, pointed toes. He didn’t have the look of a typical Zalabanese, who were a small and sprightly people with a tendency towards fairness. This man was swarthy, with thick waving hair that fell to his shoulders, a large hard-planed face which could be defined as handsome, and black eyes under thick brows. “You speak Terranen?” Gerry asked, hoping he wouldn’t have to bring a Zalaban translator in. The prisoner stared at him wide-eyed and nodded. “Explain to me--because I truly would like to know--why you would jeopardise the lives of the 1.7 million people aboard this starship by attempting to steal a shuttle to take you back to a planet you were willingly evacuated from?” Gerry’s voice dripped with harsh sarcasm.

A war of emotions played over the man’s dark features but he remained silent. Gerry tapped his desk with his index finger and tried another tack. “I am told you wanted to go back for someone who was left in Zalaban. Who?” The giant looked as if he were about to speak, but stubbornly said nothing. Exasperated, Gerry said, “Our intelligence reports say there’s no one left. That makes you a thief and a suicide risk, and you’ll spend the rest of this trip in the brig in solitary confinement. Is that what you want?” The man hesitated and shook his head. Gerry relaxed a little. “We’ve been sent here to help evacuate Zalaban, and that means everyone. If you don’t tell us if there is anyone left down there, we cannot help them. Do you understand what I’m saying?” The prisoner nodded briefly. Gerry waited. When no more was forthcoming, he said, “I’m going to ask this for the last time before I have you escorted to solitary. Is there someone left on Zalaban?” “Yes.” The prisoner’s voice was low, hesitant, almost a whisper. Gerry leaned forward, satisfied he was getting through to him. “Who?” “Alarija.” The name hit Gerry with the force of a sledge-hammer hitting a giant bell. A vibrant resonance filled his head like a strong attack of vertigo. He was so dizzy he felt nausea stirring in the pit of his stomach. Images of a woman with masses of dark hair flashed across the inside of his eyelids and just as quickly faded away. Gerry took a ragged breath and blinked his eyes clear as the vertigo abandoned him. “What did you just do to me?” he demanded. Sorovski stepped forward, alarmed at the exchange. “Sir, the Zalaban are noted for their psychic powers, the use of which is illegal off-planet. UA Ordinance ZK235 subsection C states that--” “Thank you, Commander. I know the law and I’ve read the Zalaban culture file,” Gerry snapped. At Soro’s expression, he forced himself to take a steadying breath. “I apologise, Sorovski. The … er … experience caught me off guard.”

“Apology accepted, Captain,” but Soro’s voice was cooler than usual. “You must listen to me now,” the prisoner said suddenly. “I will speak to you. Alone.” Gerry turned to him. “You’re in no position to--” “We both want the same thing. To save Alarija.” “Who’s Alarija?” Gerry pressed. “I will speak to you alone or not at all,” the prisoner said stubbornly. Gerry considered the options and nodded. “All right.” Sorovski frowned and couldn’t help interfering again. “Captain, it’s highly dangerous to be left alone with someone who has shown themselves to be unstable when you do not know the extent of their psychic powers.” Gerry nodded. “I’m aware of that, Soro. But we’re leaving in two days and I don’t think this Alarija person can wait, do you?” Despite Gerry’s attempt to unruffle his feathers by adopting the informal nickname, Sorovski pressed his lips into a thin line of disapproval. “As you wish, Captain.” With a flick of his head, he indicated that the guardsmen leave the room before him. He turned in the doorway and looked at Gerry pointedly. “We’ll be standing guard outside.” “Thank you.” When they were left alone, Gerry noticed the prisoner visibly relax. Gerry pushed his chair back and strolled around the large perspex desk. He stood before the Zalaban prisoner, calculated his possible strength and agility, then leaned back on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms, affecting an attitude of informality. “Your name?” “Marsalir.” “Tell me, Marsalir. I’m all ears.” He looked uncertain for a moment before nodding. “I would show you, if you would allow me?”

Gerry frowned. “Show me?” “I have established a connection with you.” Marsalir hesitated. “It was what you felt before. Now, if you will permit, I can show you … Alarija.” Gerry shook his head. “Who is she? Tell me that first.” Marsalir’s expression became almost reverent. His hard face softened. His eyes took on a glow. “She is the Chosen One, the Master’s Voice, the True Prophetess. Her beauty is boundless. Her power is supreme. She can call up the wind and the waves. She is our queen and Saviour. She is the sacrifice to the Sacred Eye--” “The Sacred Eye?” Gerry interrupted. He was a little disturbed by the fanaticism in the prisoner’s expression. Marsalir lifted his cuffed hands and pointed to the large porthole set in the side of the room. It gave a view of the side of the starship to the right, the rounded edge of the blue planet of Zalaban to the left, and in the middle a streaking, burning mass the size of a small coin hanging in the blackness of space. It was the G4768 Xena, commonly referred to as the Loreto Asteroid, or what the Zalaban’s were calling ‘The Sacred Eye.’ “What do you mean by ‘a sacrifice to the Sacred Eye’?” “She will be the Saviour of Zalaban, the ultimate sacrifice. She will join with the Masters and together they will repel the Sacred Eye. She will be consumed, sacrificed for the greater glory.” It sounded as if he were reciting a well-rehearsed litany, but dully. The fire had gone from his eyes. A human sacrifice. And who were the Masters? Gerry tried to recall the information in the history and cultural files on Zalaban. Nowhere was anything like this mentioned. The Zalaban social system was extremely hierarchical and patriarchal, and governed exclusively by The Elders. Perhaps this man, Marsalir, was merely a hallucinating psychotic. “She is real.” Gerry started as Marsalir answered his unspoken question. He tried to extinguish his unease at the fact that Marsalir seemed to have read his mind. “Then why doesn’t she appear in your official histories?” “She belongs only to Zalaban.” Gerry shook his head. “I’m sorry, unless you have proof--”

“I will show you Alarija.” Gerry felt as though someone had blasted into his head, swamping all other thought. His mind became enveloped in a fog-like glow, and then the fog parted to show him a magnificent sight. A white castle, like in the medieval Terran fantasies, rose from the sea like an elegant spiral of conical-topped towers. The highest tower was needle-thin and leant far out over the ocean. It was as though he were watching through a birds-eye view, flying closer till he could see a door cut into the white stone of the turret and the balcony perched on its side. There was a figure standing there, leaning on her elbows looking out over the sea, her long dark hair whipping about her as she watched the waves lapping hungrily against the sides of the turret. Beautiful. The image dissipated and was replaced by another. Now the woman stood in the doorway to the balcony with her back to him. She turned slowly, and Gerry caught the first glimpse of her pale elfin face dominated by large dreamy eyes. She wore a gown of gold in the flimsiest of materials, wrapped tightly over her full breasts and flaring in golden folds over curving hips. A gem-studded belt clinched her tiny waist. Her hair was studded in tiny flashing jewels. She was exquisite. Again the image changed. Now she stood at the foot of the bed, her long hair loose and draped over the front of her body. Gerry drew in his breath as he realised she was naked. She smiled, her eyes darkened by lust, and lifted her hair away and over her back. Her breasts were full and high, the pink nipples hard little nubs. Her skin was creamy and lush, her legs long with a small thatch of hair where they joined. She sat on the bed and parted her thighs. Gerry felt the blood rush to his cock. And suddenly it was as if he was in the room with her. He could feel the smooth texture of her skin beneath his hands as he explored the luscious curves and came to rest in the burning heat between her thighs. His lips tasted the pink nipples, suckling at them like a man gone mad. His fingers delved inside her, slipped into the hot cunt. She bucked beneath him, hips grating against his hand as his finger delved inside her, swirling. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face to hers. Her eyes were large and lust-filled, her skin flawless. He had never seen anyone more beautiful. Her pink tongue moistened her sweet plump mouth--God, what he would do to have that mouth wrapped around his cock!--and said, “Pleasure me with your mouth, Marsalir.” Marsalir! So he was re-living Marsalir’s experience. The images were projected memories. Yet it was as if he was there, experiencing it himself.

Gerry’s cock stiffened, straining against the material of his uniform, as he knelt before her. He felt a sense of worship as his tongue traced down that stupendous body, laving at each nipple and moving down over her flat belly to kiss the inside of each delicious thigh. He spread her legs and gently caressed the folds of her damp sex, opening it like an unfurling flower between his thumbs. The entry to her vagina glistened, plump and wet, and her clit was red and swollen. He bent his head and flicked his tongue over the engorged nub, once, twice, then closed his mouth over it and suckled. He thrust two fingers inside her, feeling her tightness loosening as he worked another finger inside. His hands pumped inside her, but superficially, as his mouth nibbled and suckled at her clit. She gasped and arched her back, thrusting her hips into his face. Removing his fingers, he replaced them with his tongue. He moaned as he first slipped inside her, feeling the warm of her body wrapped around his tongue. He pumped his tongue inside her, deeper and deeper, as he rubbed a thumb over her engorged nub which seemed to vibrate under his fingers. Gerry’s cock was aching now, and he loosened his buttons to ease the strain. His cock popped out into his hand as though it had a life of its own, demanding release. He fisted it firmly in his hands and began stroking its hard length as he stroked the beauty with his tongue, penetrating deeper into her slick hole. Her hands were clenched in his hair, and suddenly she cried out and her thighs clenched on either side of his head as her body rocked with the force of her orgasm. He tasted the deluge of her cum enveloping his tongue. He lapped up the creamy sweetness as his hand pumped at his cock, aching for his own release. He looked up and saw she was smiling at him in dreamy contentment, her eyes filled with love. Gerry felt his heart twist and tumble as her green-eyed gaze met his. She vanished. Disoriented, Gerry blinked. Marsalir had moved and now stood a foot in front of him, observing him with intensity. Gerry realised that he was leaning back on the desk, his trousers unbuttoned and loose about his hips. He looked down at himself and saw his stiff cock jutting up, the purple head fisted in his hand. This part hadn’t been in the vision. This part was real. “I … you didn’t come,” Gerry groaned in frustration, feeling the throb of his unfulfilled desire in his hand. “She makes you ache,” Marsalir whispered, his eyes darkening. “Always an unbearable ache.” He shook his head. “There is no release for me. No release.”

Marsalir’s gaze moved down to Gerry’s hips and he inched closer. Caught in the thrall of his own sexual arousal, Gerry was unable to stop as Marsalir reached out to touch Gerry’s cock. His breath caught in his throat as Marsalir’s fingers circled the head. “I am no longer a man,” Marsalir said, his hand stroking gently. “It’s been so long since I touched … I have no--” He bit his lip. A eunuch! Gerry thought in wonder. As able with his tongue as he was with his hands, which had brushed his own aside and were now lightly caressing the length of his cock. Oh God, this was--unimaginable. “Let me help you find release,” Marsalir whispered as his strong hands closed around him. “And then you will save her.” Gerry gasped as Marsalir pulled at the length of his cock. Maybe he’d gone too long without sex--or maybe he still had the image of Alarija in his mind, her moist mouth gasping in pleasure. All he wanted--needed--was release. Marsalir seemed to know that, seemed to be playing on that. The vision of Alarija must have been calculated, otherwise why had he been shown precisely those images? Damn it! He groaned as Marsalir’s hand worked over him. It was too late. It had gone too far. He was perilously close to orgasm. He closed his eyes and gave in to the rising sensation, shifting his hips on the desk as he leaned back on his hands. “Let me see her again,” he said harshly, opening his eyes to stare at Marsalir. “I must see her.” Marsalir nodded as if he understood the obsession. Gerry watched disbelievingly as the eunuch suddenly fell to his knees before him and grasped Gerry’s member in his handcuffed hands. As Marsalir’s warm mouth slid over the swollen head of his cock, Gerry’s was blasted so hard by an image of Alarija that his head jerked back. She was leaning back against white stone. Her hair was loose and wind-whipped, falling about her luscious, naked body. He lifted his head from between her legs, which were resting on either side of his shoulders, her heels digging into his back. Her fingers gripped his hair, holding him fast. His hands kneaded the smooth flesh of her ass resting in his hands. An expression of ecstasy transformed her features. Three of his fingers were inside her. He bent and laved at her swollen nub, groaning as he felt the eunuch’s tongue working over his cock. He tried to wriggle another finger inside her. “No, Marsalir,” she panted. “You mustn’t break me. I must remain a virgin.”

A virgin! Oh, God, a virgin. He pulled back, staring up at her, seeing the underside of her pink-tipped creamy breasts and her flushed face above them. So beautiful. She suddenly looked disconcerted. “Marsalir?” “I’m not Marsalir,” he said fiercely, pulsing with a need that almost hurt. “It’s Gerry. Gerry.” “Gerry.” She squirmed in his hands, shifted her hips closer to his face. “Oh Gerry, fuck me with your tongue. Please.” Gerry’s cock felt about to burst as he groaned and buried his face in the warmth of her sex. As his tongue plunged deep inside her, he felt the juddering contractions of her orgasm even as he plunged his own cock deep into the eunuch’s throat. As she cried out, arching her back as she came, his own orgasm rolled over him like a dark wave. Resting his lips against her tender clit, he bucked his hips uncontrollably as his seed shot in a hot torrent into Marsalir’s willing mouth. She faded, was gone. Eyes closed, Gerry heard the sound of his own harsh breathing in the silence of his quarters in the starship Lucero. He felt the eunuch’s mouth remove itself from him, heard the man shifting. “We’ll find Alarija,” Marsalir said softly. “The Elders will try to interfere. You must not let them. Agreed?” Gerry thought of Alarija’s face transformed by ecstasy. It had seemed so real. She had called his name. He had been there. He just knew it. He opened his eyes and sat up. Marsalir was standing across the room now, in the same spot where the guards had left him, his face impassive. Gerry began to button up his trousers. He knew that what he and Marsalir had experienced together would stay in this room. Because it hadn’t been about them. It had been about Alarija. “Agreed.”; He also knew, with a certainty that felt like a hot poker branding his soul, that he would stop at nothing until Alarija was safe aboard his starship. In his arms.

Chapter Three

Alarija turned restlessly in her bed. In her dreams, the man named Gerry knelt before her as Marsalir had once done. His face was handsome, strong, with straight brows over hazel eyes, eyes that gazed at her in worship as Marsalir’s had done. He wanted her, but there the similarities ended. While Marsalir was content to serve her, she knew this man would not rest until he possessed her, body and soul. And she--yes, she rejoiced in it. Alarija woke with a cry. Her bed rocked and swayed and, for a disorienting moment, she thought she was on a ship, as she had been when she was a small child, tossed high up on the waves of one of the wooden fishing vessels belonging to the fisherman in her village. Her eyes focused as she realized it wasn’t a dream. She was awake, and it was her tower that swayed from side to side. She slid over her bed and rested her bare feet on the floor. Shifting to catch her balance at the pitching floor beneath her feet, she made her way to the door to the balcony and peered out. About her, the waves roared and pounded, smashing against the side of the tower furiously. There was no storm. The sky was a dark purple and clear. The Sacred Eye burned sharply, circled by a halo of vermillion. Alarija caught a glimpse of the gleaming back of one of the Masters, not two hundred feet away. Closer than they’d ever been. There were more of them to the right and the left, lifting their huge slick bodies out of the water and diving back into the water with a flick of their tails. The huge waves buffeting her tower was no more than the wash left in the wake of their gargantuan splashes. They were angry. She could sense the cold fury in their twisting, circling bodies. And though this time they did not speak, she had the feeling it had to do with her dream and the man named Gerry. **** They had almost reached the shuttle when The Elders found them. Gerry had changed his dress uniform for combat fatigues tucked into laced boots, and a short waterproof jacket over a padded vest. He was armed--a phaser in the holster at his hip, a blade in the side of his right boot. Marsalir’s handcuffs had been removed and he was unarmed. Sorovski had tried to change his mind, had not succeeded, and now watched them from the edge of the shuttle launch pad with a scowl on his face. And although a row of guardsmen lined the perimeter of the launch pad, the Zalaban Elders managed to get through.

“Captain!” He felt Marsalir stiffen at his side, an almost palpable fear emanating from him. Gerry turned, resting his hand on his phaser, and watched them warily. There were three of them--tall men with loose robes in a stiff tapestried material caught by a thick sash around their middles. They were perhaps in their late fifties, their hair cropped close to their skulls, their eyes burning with disdain and--yes, rage. Four soldiers on the perimeter lay sprawled on their side. The Elders had pushed them aside with their minds, breaking through the ring of guards onto the launch pad. Gerry could see Soro pounding his fists on the air and realised that they had raised a protective shield about them--an impenetrable barrier. It was illegal. He knew they must be desperate if they had so blatantly broken that particular law on a UA Special Forces starship. “Where are you taking our servant?” It was the youngest Elder who spoke. His face was sunken to such a skeletal thinness that his eyes almost bulged from their protruding sockets. Gerry glanced at Marsalir. “Your ... servant is accompanying me on a rescue mission. I have been informed there is one person left on Zalaban. I plan to retrieve her.” The Elders looked at each other in alarm. The plumpest one snarled at Marsalir. “You have betrayed us, betrayed your people.” “My Lords, Alarija must be--” “Silence!” the eldest man roared. “You dare to speak her name among se’kaanae?” Se’kaanae. An odd choice of word, Gerry thought. It’s meaning lay between infidel and heretic. “There has been no betrayal,” Gerry said coldly. “He’s merely my guide.” “You lie.” The skeletal one glared at him. Then he pointed at Marsalir, who had visibly started to shake. “Whatever he has told you is a lie.” Gerry’s hand tightened on the handle of his phaser. A cold fury swept over him at their insubordination. Godammit, this was his ship! “Who’s the liar? Do you deny Alarija remains on Zalaban?” The plump Elder’s face turned puce. “You dare to speak her name?”

“I dare to bring her back with me.” Marsalir took a step towards them, hands outstretched imploringly. “My Lords, we cannot leave her--” The skeletal Elder flung out his arm. As though he weighed no more than a matchstick, Marsalir’s body was thrown up in the air and hit the hull of the shuttle with a sickening crunch. He fell to the ground, his huge body crumpling. Gerry ran to him, knelt at his side. He had only to look at his unnaturally twisted neck to know that Marsalir was dead. Killed by his own people. On his ship. Still crouching, Gerry turned, pulling out his phaser and aiming it at them. Immediately the weapon flew from his grasp and clattered across the launch pad. The Elders faced him, their eyes blazing. Gerry rose to his feet, stood proudly as fury coursed through his body. “You have contravened the laws of the United Alliance. I can have you up for charges of murder. For mutiny. Both punishable by death.” He spoke coldly, fearless in his authority. “There are witnesses enough.” He swept his hand around the launch pad where three squads of soldiers and more than two dozen technicians observed them. “Surely you can’t mean to kill all of us?” For the first time, something like fear swept over their faces. The Elders turned to each other uncertainly, conversing quietly for a moment. When they were done, the plump one turned to him and said nervously, “We apologize. We have overstepped the mark.” Suddenly Gerry knew what he had to do. “You murder someone and think an apology will fix that atrocity?” He pressed home his advantage. “I demand a life for a life. It’s my right.” “No, you cannot--” “As captain of this starship, I claim Alarija’s life in exchange.” “No!” the Elders stared at him in horror. It was an ancient law. Before the Universal Alliance had established firm order in the galaxies, pirates and rogue mercenaries posed a problem to every trade ship, cruiser and colonial outpost on rim planets. Murder, sky-jackings, and kidnappings had been rampant. After a series of high profile

kidnappings for ransom by pirates, negotiations had turned on a life-for-a-life--the release of the kidnap victim in exchange for the freedom of criminals in captivity. Later it was expanded to include all lives taken accidentally during close confrontations on spaceships. It had fallen into disuse as the UA exerted its control over most of the known galaxies, but as a law it was still the right of any spaceship captain to legitimately claim, with the Universal Alliance’s full backing. “You cannot claim for his life. He is our servant!” the skeletal Elder snarled. “As my guide, he was officially under my protection.” How he’d like to kick that guy in the teeth! As the Elder opened his mouth again to argue, the plump Elder held up his hand. “It is done. We concede to your right to claim Alarija.” Gerry smiled in grim satisfaction as the other two turned to him in confusion. “You can try to bring her back, Captain,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowed. “If you can.” He pointed to the viewscreen which showed the Loreto Asteroid growing larger. “You don’t have much time, and your responsibilities are here with your starship, is that not so?” “I’ll find her.” Gerry’s expression was hard. “Perhaps The Masters will have something to say about that. And I wouldn’t underestimate Alarija herself. She has been well taught.” The other two Elders nodded, their eyes suddenly gloating. Then all three turned on their heels and strode away from the launch pad. “Let them pass,” Gerry shouted as the guardsmen lifted their rifles. The soldiers parted to let them through and they disappeared into the depths of the Lucero. Sorovski ran to his side as soon as The Elders dissipated the barrier. “You’re not letting them go, are you? Gerry, don’t tell me you’re still going on this wild goose chase--” Gerry bent to pick up his phaser and holstered it. “Two days, Soro.” He turned and placed his hands on Sorovski’s shoulders, squeezing companionably. “Just give me two days, can you do that?” “Gerry.” Sorovski struggled with his agitation. “I don’t understand what the big deal is, that’s all. One person, Gerry. All this mess for one person.” “Two people.” Gerry watched as Marsalir’s twisted form was heaved onto a stretcher by the Med Corps.

“But Ger,” Soro said impatiently, “Who’s this woman you’ve been arguing over?” Gerry turned away before he revealed the depth of his emotion. “Why don’t you ask her yourself when I bring her back?” And with that Sorovski had to be content. **** Alarija had come to the Goddess Chamber to pray. She knelt on the cushions arranged before the Goddess Stone and lowered her head. She entreated Tal’an to guide her. She murmured prayers of loyalty and constancy. She gave praise to her great beauty and knowledge. She begged for the lessening of the heat that burned through her body like restless flames, the power that surged like a broken cable without a socket to ground it. She implored her to give her strength to do her duty. The Goddess Stone shone brightly and coldly, unperturbed. The lapis-colored stone rested on a carved stone platform which sat on the rocky floor of one of the many underground caverns beneath the Communion Tower. Apart from the beauty of the glowing color, the rock was a shapeless lump. Legend had it that the Goddess herself, Tal’an, had been thrown out of Zenaku, the Hall of Gods, for challenging the power of Mia’ka, God of Gods. She had fallen from the sky on Zalaban, forever trapped in the Goddess Stone which they said was bright blue to reflect the color of her brilliant eyes. Only The Elders and she had ever entered this underground chamber. It was small and cramped, the ceiling low and the walls close. Of all the chambers off the Great Cavern, she never knew why it had been placed here. Except that the Goddess Stone glowed, and that glow bathed the whole cave in an eerie blue light. After countless hours of prayer, Alarija rose unsteadily to her numb feet. She approached the Goddess Stone and circled the stone platform. Touching it with cold fingers, she stared into its opaque surface. The Goddess Stone was unresponsive. “I wonder when you left, Tal’an? You could at least have said goodbye.” Rage burned through her--rage at having been abandoned, truly abandoned. Not just by the whole planet, but by the Goddess herself. In her anger, Alarija pushed at the stone platform with all her might until she felt it move. She pushed again--and the unthinkable happened. The platform toppled, and the Goddess Stone fell and smashed like glass on the rocky ground.

Alarija sucked in her breath. She waited with pounding heart for the gods to strike her down for her blasphemy. When, after a long while, the world remained the same, she bent and picked up a thick triangular shard of glass from the Goddess Stone. No, not a stone. A manufactured lie. For on the bottom of the shard she could see faint markings that read ‘For scientific purposes only’. Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her. “What were you, Goddess?” she asked the shard. “What scientific purpose did you serve?” With the shard clenched in her hand, she left the Goddess Chamber and went down the small winding passage into the Great Cavern. The ceiling was so unimaginably high it was like a black maw overhead. In the center of the cavern was a small lake formed by the dripping from miniscule cracks in the darkness above, letting in drips of the ocean. The center-piece of the Great Cavern was the long wall. Where once there had been rock, the whole wall had been cut out and thick glass put in its place. Beyond, the great ocean of Zalaban pressed at the glass. She could not imagine the technology that could have accomplished such a feat. The view out of the glass was of a hazy, swaying landscape of sea life: oranio fish with their bright stripes, zuckaloo with their vermillion shells and protruding legs, earth sharks and dashing shoals of tiny geegee. In the far distance, like a grey smudge, she could also make out the floating bulk of one of The Masters. Watching and waiting. Alarija tapped the heavy Goddess Stone shard in her hand consideringly and stepped close to the glass. She closed her eyes and gathered all her energy. She felt her body vibrating with power, like a burst of pleasure in her groin. She moaned as the energy rose through her body, her nipples peaking into hard pebbles of arousal. When she felt the power tingling in her hands, she opened her eyes. One of The Masters had swum closer, was observing her from a few hundred feet away. His long neck swayed, a blur through the thick glass. She heard the long, low mournful sound of his trumpeting call. “Let me be!” Alarija cried.

And in a fury, she raised the sharp Goddess Stone shard above her head and drove it hard into the thick glass separating the ocean from the Great Cavern.

Chapter Four

Gerry set the shuttle on a landing platform near the Zalaban Palace, the white turreted castle he had seen through Marsalir’s memory. The air of Zalaban was clear and crisp, with a heavy salted scent that came from the vast ocean which surrounded the small promontory on which the turreted palace had been built. It was early morning, though the sky shone with the vermillion glow of the Loreto Asteroid hanging like another sun in the sky. The Sacred Eye. He could see how a primitive culture would think that, though how primitive Zalaban actually was he couldn’t guess. The Elders had seemed wily enough. He’d brought a bioSkan, and as he flicked it on to full power he saw a flurry of shapes on the screen. Large shapes that circled somewhere close. Gerry looked about and saw only the ocean, the waves rising high and smashing with force against the thick walls of the palace. Ocean life, he had to assume. Some sort of whale, judging by the size. He entered the data to narrow the scan to human life forms only. Immediately the bioSkan emitted a steady beep. Pleased, he followed the coordinates into the palace. After three hours, he was frustrated. Though the palace looked tiny on the outside, on the inside it was labyrinthine, long winding corridors leading nowhere, stairs leading up to dead-end walls, vast colonnaded halls encompassed by a hanging garden. The place was beautiful and eerie. He knew now what the end of a world looked like. The absolute silence was almost unbearable. The problem lay in the bioSkan, an almost obsolete model that was not sensitive enough for an accurate reading. He just knew Alarija was here somewhere. Many times he felt he was on top of the beep indicating her presence, and yet found himself on a tiny balcony overlooking the sea, or in the pantry off the kitchen with the smell of rotting meat from the food bins. He climbed four of the turrets before at last coming to a chamber he assumed was her room. A large round bed dominated the cool white floor, and the door to the terrace seemed familiar. He

opened a door and came across a multitude of hanging gowns in silks, satins, and brocades, rich and luxurious. There was a heady, intoxicating scent to them. He lifted the brocaded edge of a gown and brought it to his face, sniffed it. Was this Alarija’s gown? Had she worn this? Gerry’s groin stirred, his arousal instantaneous as he imagined her curves, remembered the taste of her on his tongue. Then he abruptly dropped the dress and stepped away. He was like a man obsessed. The stalker of a woman he had never met. And yet she was more real to him than Lara, who was like the faint memory of a dream. Damn! He shook the guilt away. He’d mourned long and hard for Lara. He wouldn’t forget her. But there was someone else who needed him, someone else he could save, if the damn bioSkan would work just properly. **** Night had fallen like a rich dark blanket when he found the entrance to the caves. Gerry had returned to the audience hall for the third time. It was a large room with rich tapestries depicting sea life covering the stone walls. He’d made a systematic search of the small warren of rooms leading off it. One room was completely bare, nothing more than a cell, except for a set of wooden doors set in the ground. He thought nothing of it the first time, but on his second frustrated search, he tapped his foot on the doors. A hollow sound echoed about the room. He pulled the doors opened and stared down at the darkness beneath him, at the worn steps leading down. The smell of damp and chilling cold was powerful. He switched on his flashlight, hooked the steadily beeping bioSkan to his belt, and started down the glistening stone stairs. **** He’s here! Wake up! Alarija eyes snapped open. She was laying face-down on the sandy floor of the Great Cavern where she had fallen. She sat up, wondering at the voice. Was it a projection of The Masters or something else? If it meant anything, she was too tired to try to find out. She rose wearily to her feet and turned to the glass wall.

Great cracks slashed across it, shooting from the Goddess Stone shard embedded in its center. But the glass held. Alarija didn’t know whether to be sorry or grateful. Her hands ached, and she looked down and saw they were covered in blood from the slash across the palm of her hand caused by her grip on the shard. Her clothes were spattered with it, soiled and ruined. Her face and hair felt gritty from the sand. Alarija turned to the center of the cavern, looked at the cool darkness of the lake. She could bathe, she thought as she stepped closer. The sheer coldness of the water would bring her wits back. For what she had done to the glass of the Great Cavern was nothing more than a sign of her madness. It would not happen again. She undid her jewelled belt, threw it to the floor, then shrugged off the gown and let it pool at her feet. Stepping over it, she walked naked to the edge of the water and waded into the freezing cold at its center. **** By his estimation it was almost dawn by the time Gerry found the Great Cavern. For a long time he’d been lost in the winding corridors of the caves. The bioSkan had died on him a long time ago, somehow unable to function so far below ground. Eventually he’d again found the stairs that had lead him down. He’d taken off his jacket and vest, then torn the vest and loosened a woollen thread and pulled until it began to unravel. He tied the loose thread around a stalagmite edging the side of the cave and started searching again, holding the unravelling vest in one hand and the flashlight in the other. This time he would be able to retrace his steps. Finally, one of the narrow rocky corridors had become sandy, widening to become the entrance to a great cavern. It was huge, studded with clumps of glistening stalagmites clinging to rocky outcrops on the sand-covered floor. Experimentally, he turned off his flashlight and found that the walls gave off a faint luminescent glow, enough for him to find his way. He skirted a large lake in the middle of the cavern, drawn to the far wall which appeared to have a green glow. The sea. Gerry stood in amazement before the glass wall separating the ocean from the cave. Jagged cracks zigzagged across it from an object deliberately embedded in the glass. He touched the jagged edge of the thick blue shard of piercing the glass. It was sticky. Blood. Alarija!

He turned and looked at the floor, noticed the droplet of blood leading to an indentation on the sandy floor as though someone had been lying there. A pool of blood had formed at its side. And then there was a scuffing of sand, and footprints heading towards the center of the cave. He followed them. Gerry found her dress by the side of the cave lake. He bent and held it in his hand, buried his face in it to inhale the familiar scent. His heart was beating wildly as he looked about for her. Then he noticed the footprints leading to the edge of the water. Gerry dropped the dress and stared out into the darkness of the lake, listening for any sound that would indicate she was still alive and had not drowned.

**** Alarija broke up through the surface of the lake, gasping for air after her long swim underwater. Her feet touched bottom and she crouched in the water, pushing back the heavy weight of her wet hair. “Alarija! Alarija!” Shocked, she was transfixed as the sound of her name echoed about the cave. A new voice to join the ones already in her head, she thought fearfully. But the voice sounded so loud, so real-A heavy splashing sound came from behind her, and she whirled around. She saw a man running through the shallow water along the edge of the lake. He was tall and bare-chested. She watched, rooted to the spot, as he ran along the lake away from her, turned and then ran back, cold water splashing over his legs and torso. Calling her name. Always calling her name. He was near her when turned and waded into the lake with a kind of desperation. “Alarija!” “I’m here.” He stopped then, seemed to be unsure he’d heard anything, cocking his head to his side. He was handsome in a hard, rugged way, tall and broad-shouldered and-- familiar. Her breasts tingled at a memory, at a dream. She had seen him before, hadn’t she? She rose to her feet, shaking her hair back, and took a step towards him.

He saw her. His brows rose. His eyes lit with joy, and then darkened as she waded out of the water towards him. Alarija had always been able to understand when a man desired her, and she saw that desire in his eyes. It was like Marsalir’s desire but different. It was more feral, more--potent. “Alarija?” His voice was like a low growl from an animal, a cornered animal that warned before it attacked. “Who are you?” she asked softly, stopping as the water reached her knees. He stared at her as though he had never seen a woman before. His look was hungry as it raked her naked body, lingering on the curves of her breasts with their tingling hard peaks, over her waist and the thatch of hair between her legs. His gaze devoured her, starting a fire burning deep in her belly, a warm liquid sensation that spurted between her thighs. He waded a few steps towards her until they stood face to face. She could smell the animal scent of him, sense the heat coming off him that made goose bumps rise along her skin. “Who are you?” she whispered again. “Gerry.” It was the man from her dream. She looked into his hazel eyes and remembered him with a sexual thrill. She remembered his fierce expression as he looked up at her from between her thighs where his mouth had been buried, pleasuring her. “Gerry,” Alarija gave a soft sigh of desire. He caught her by the shoulders then, dragged her towards him till her breasts were crushed against his muscled chest. His mouth came down hard on hers, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth as she gave a small whimper of protest that melted into a moan of acquiescence. Tongue, lips, and teeth warred with hers, plundering until she was left breathless. Gerry’s hands roamed over her body, lingered on her waist and lowered until he cupped the roundness of her buttocks in his hands. He lifted her until her body was curved into his. She could feel the edge of his trousers cut into the soft skin of her belly, and the rough material of his straining arousal rubbing painfully between her legs. Her hands, hesitant at first and then bolder, caught at his trousers and began to loosen the buttons of his fly. Almost immediately she felt the head of his member spring free to lie caught between their bellies. She wriggled her hand between them and grasped his thick cock, revelling in the feel of the

smooth skin. He moaned, closed his eyes as she moved her hand over it, and she looked down to look at the warm pulsing penis in her hand. This is what a man’s penis looks like! The thought sent a thrill of pure sexual desire through her body, an urge to wrap her lips around the distended head, to have him filling her completely. “Alarija!” he gasped. Suddenly he crouched and swung her up, an arm wrapped around the back of her knees. As he carried her out of the water, she arched her back in ecstasy as he bent his head and took one of her nipples in his mouth, suckling as he walked. On the sandy bank, he let her slither to the ground between his arms. They stared at each other for a long while. Alarija raised her hand and traced a finger over the planes of his face, his dark brows, the strong straight nose, resting on his firm lips. He caught her fingertip between white teeth, sucked on the finger as she stared deep into his eyes. Her heart did an unexpected tumble and she knew he would never hurt her. She licked her lips in desire. She watched his eyes darken. She wanted him. Alarija took a step back and sat on the sand, lying back and fanning her hair out around her. It was as much an invitation as she knew how to give. He stared at her for a moment, swallowed, and then he leant over and unlaced his boots, kicked them off. His trousers and pants followed, were thrown aside, until he stood naked. His muscular legs towered over her, his cock jutting out from the dark hair between his thighs, his balls heavy. He lowered himself over her, and she welcomed the hard, alien feel of his skin brushing against hers. His mouth took hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, smoothed her fingers in his dark hair, gripped his head. She moaned as his mouth left a hot trail over jaw and neck, trailed down to take a hard pink nipple in his mouth, sucking fiercely as he caught her other nipple between his fingers, rubbing and pulling until she thought she would die with pleasure. His hand snaked down then, over her waist and hip, and found the hot wetness between her thighs. “Gerry,” she moaned as his fingers rubbed over her swollen clit. Two fingers delved deep into her vagina, thrusting inside as she spread her legs wide to accept them. His mouth trailed down then over her breasts and belly, parting her legs as he buried his face between them. Alarija looked up at the darkness of the ceiling, squirming at the sensation of Gerry’s lips suckling at her clit as he buried three fingers inside her. Suddenly she felt the sharp, hard burst of her orgasm, and she arched her back and cried out as it rolled over her away in a wave of pure pleasure. Gerry’s mouth covered hers as her breathing steadied, and she tasted herself on his lips. She could feel his cock throbbing over the tenderness between her legs, gloried in it, wanted it deep inside her. She shifted, moved her hips until she was caressing his hard length between the slick folds of her cunt.

Gerry held her head between his hands, gazing down at her. “Are you sure you want this?” he gasped, even as he began to slide the underside of his cock over her tingling nub as if unable to restrain himself. In answer, she caught the back of his head and dragged his mouth to hers, plunging her tongue between his lips to suckle at his tongue. Gasping, Gerry disengaged himself and sat back on his heels between her parted legs. She lifted herself on her elbows to watch what he would do. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her clit, sending electric spirals of sensation over her body. Then he edged closer and replaced the thumb with the head of his cock, rubbing slit against slit until she lay back gasping, arching her back. “Take me, please,” she gasped. “I want to … I want you to …” With a firm movement, he pressed the head against the entrance to her vagina. She gasped as he pushed himself inside, slowly at first. Goddess, he was big! The sensation was almost unbearable. She pushed at him, frightened, but he laid his body over her and held her face still between his hands. “It won’t hurt for long, I promise you,” he said softly. She drowned in the depths of his eyes even as she felt his body move, pushing slowly deeper into her, until he was sliding inside her with smooth, steady strokes. Alarija stared at him as a heavy flush of desire swept over her face and chest, gripping his shoulders as he plunged into her, harder and hard, each thrust of his hips sending her higher and higher to escalating heights. She wanted all of him inside her, deep inside her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and met each of his thrusts with her own. Soon wave after wave of pure pleasure rolled over her body until she was shaking with the force of them, and she cried out as the final juddering climax sent her over the edge. Gerry had stopped moving now as he caught her face between his hands again. “Ssshh,” he said tenderly as her breathing steadied. His cock was still rock hard inside her. “Have you--are you … done?” she whispered. His grinned, his teeth flashing white in his tanned face. “No, we haven’t finished.” She gasped as he pulled himself out of her then caught her hand and drew her up with him. Turning her around by the shoulders until she faced away from him, she looked back as he kneeled behind her. Alarija felt his hot breath on her neck and closed her eyes as he nuzzled at her neck, wrapping his arms about her. He took the weight of her breasts in his hands, thumbs circling the nipples.

She arched back, turning her head to kiss him, revelling in the sensation of his hard lips on hers, his tongue plunging inside. As their lips parted, Gerry pushed her forward. She fell to her hands and knees as he firmly stilled her hips and positioned her by spreading her legs wider. Then she felt the hard edge of his cock against the slick entrance to her vagina. She gasped as, with a sudden hard thrust, he buried himself inside her to the hilt, his balls tight up against her ass. She gave a low moan as he began to move, slowly at first, and then faster and harder, increasing the speed of his thrusts. She leaned down on her elbows, parting her legs to accommodate the fullness of his cock inside her. She cried out as he plunged deeper inside, closing her eyes at the burst of sensation at her sensitive core. And miraculously, she felt herself coming again even as his hot seed began to shoot inside her. She heard his hoarse breathing as he gave a couple more thrusts, then steadied himself by gripping her hips as he emptied himself inside her, his cock throbbing and jumping inside her, and finally softening. Fully sated, wonderfully weary, she let herself fall spread-eagled on the floor. She sighed as he lowered his body over hers, covering it with his warmth, pressing her deeper into the sand. He set his cheek against hers and they lay there, cheek to cheek, until their breathing steadied. After a long, peaceful moment of contentment, Gerry gently turned her around to face him, his body still covering hers. He searched her eyes, looking for signs of distress, smiling at her as he found none. She traced the side of his mouth with a finger. “I didn’t think it could ever be this way,” she said softly. “Come with me, Alarija.” Gerry kissed the palm of her hand. “I came to find you, to take you back with me. Please come with me.” Alarija closed her eyes. She waited for the feeling of denial to assert itself. She waited for her conscience to rail at her about duty and the Law, as it had always done with Marsalir. But there was nothing. There had been nothing since she first gazed into his eyes and knew he belonged to her She smiled secretly to herself, in relief and in joy. “Yes,” she said finally, opening her eyes to gaze at him. “I’ll come with you.” Nooooo! A great bellowing cry filled the room and shook the very floors of the cavern, echoing in her head endlessly. Alarija cried out, clapping her hands over her ears to stop the ear-splitting sound. She twisted under Gerry and turned to look at the glass wall of the cavern.

The grey bulk of Orogo, the Grand Master, swam in the ocean beyond while his small snake-like head pressed close to the glass, watching them with his enormous unblinking eye. Traitorous whore! Furious at the breaking of her covenant and the dissipation of her power--taken with her virginity--that would save them, Orogo threw open his beaked mouth and gave another tremendous bellow.

Chapter Five

Gerry jumped to his feet, staggering as the ground shifted beneath him. “What in God’s name is that thing?” “Orogo,” Alarija whispered, “The Grand Master.” She sat back on her feet, her hands clenched under her chin, staring at the monster on the other side of the glass. She was transfixed by the snake-like head which twisted this way and that, glaring at her with one eye and then another. “I’m sorry, Master,” she stammered. “I’m sorry.” “What are you sorry for?” Gerry demanded. “You haven’t done anything.” Alarija threw herself prostrate on the sand. “He says he will kill us,” she cried, her voice muffled by the sand. “He will kill us.” Gerry caught Alarija’s shoulders firmly and lifted her off the ground, turning her hunched form to face him. “He’s a beast. An animal. There’s nothing he can do to us.” Alarija’s face was streaked by tears and sand. “You don’t hear him,” she whispered in a ragged voice. “He speaks to me. He says he will kill us because I’ve betrayed him.”

“He’s behind the glass, Alarija.” Gerry gave her a little shake to draw her attention back to him as her eyes darted towards Orogo. “He can’t hurt us.” As if to belie his words, Orogo eased his bulk around in the water. As he turned, his tailed flipped up and then smashed across the glass. The cracks in the glass widened, zigzagging across the rest of the window. “God damn.” Gerry stared as Orogo turned again, brought the long, glistening length of his tail hard against the glass. The glass trembled. Cracks widened, deepened. Drops of water began to drip around the shard embedded in its center. For the first time, Gerry felt the urgency of fear. “We’ve got to get out of here.” Gerry lifted Alarija to her feet. She pulled away from him, staring at Orogo, shaking her head mindlessly. “No. I must stay. It’s my destiny. My destiny.” Gerry clenched his hands in frustration. Alarija clapped her hands over her ears, frightened out of her wits by whatever obscenities that monster behind the glass was saying to her. Dammit, there was no way in hell he was going to leave her here! Gerry caught her by the shoulders, jerked her around to him. “Listen to me! Alarija! Listen to me!” She stared at him then. “Go, Gerry. This is my destiny, not yours. Save yourself.” She started to pull away from him. “No!” He caught her back, pulled her tightly to his body. “I can’t leave you, Alarija. I love you.” Tears streamed down her face as she gazed at him. She touched his cheek, “And I love you.” Gerry crushed his lips to hers, claiming her as his own. With an ear-splitting wail, Orogo smashed his tail on the glass, sending shards flying around them. A steady stream of water began to pour from several jagged cracks, the sheer pressure of the ocean forcing them wider, and the cold water began to pool at their feet.

“Forget Orogo,” Gerry said as his lifted his lips from hers. “I know why they left you here. I know you were to be a human sacrifice to the Sacred Eye.” He shook her. “But what purpose would you death serve, Alarija? You can’t stop the asteroid. Zalaban will be destroyed.” Alarija shook her head. “No. My powers will combine with The Masters. We will become powerful and together we will destroy the Sacred Eye. The Masters will survive. They will survive.” “So it’s all about their survival, is it? And what about yours?” Her eyes were huge as they gazed up at him. Gerry took a steadying breath, forcing himself to be calm. “There is no power that can save them, Alarija. The Sacred Eye is the size of a small moon. Nothing can stop it. Don’t you think the Universal Alliance would have tried? This is a fool's errand, Alarija.” Orogo bellowed and the cavern pitched beneath their feet. The glass bulged at the pressure of the ocean and the manic thrashing of the Grand Master’s bulk beyond. “I can’t save them?” Alarija asked softly. Gerry shook his head, fixing his eyes firmly on hers. “Nothing can save them.” Alarija took a deep shuddering breath. She brushed the back of her hand across her face, wiping away the sand and tears. “Then let’s go.” It was all Gerry needed to hear. He caught her hand, turned, and ran for the entrance to the cavern, pulling Alarija behind him. They had almost made it when they heard what sounded like a crack and an explosion, and then the thunderous roar as the ocean poured into the cavern. It was too late. They had left it too late. Gerry knew they would be swept up and crushed beneath the force that had been unleashed behind them. Alarija’s hand slipped out of his. He skidded to a halt, turned, and reached for her in desperation. Gerry saw a wall of water rushing to meet them and braced himself for its blow. And then the wall of water stopped, not ten feet from him. The wall of foamy green was absolutely still, as if it had struck some invisible barrier.

Alarija stood with her arms held out towards the ocean wall. Her body shimmered with energy, with unimaginable power. It was she who had raised the barrier. He felt the heat emanating from her. Her long hair snaked about her head with body with the static of it. “Go Gerry!” she shouted, her voice strained. “Save yourself.” “No!” He leapt towards her, in front of her, crouching at her feet. Then he caught her hips and hitched her up over his left shoulder. Her flesh burned and his hair shot sparks against hers. But he had her. He had her. Gerry ran out of the cavern, following the thread which twisted on the floor. He cut his feet on the naked rock and felt the flesh of his shoulder burn as he ran blindly for their lives. His saw the stairs leading to the palace above and raced towards it, placed his foot on the first step, and another. And then the fire at his shoulder eased and he heard the roar of ocean behind them and he knew Alarija had done what she could and was spent. Her body draped limply across his shoulder, heavier, as he raced up the stairs--two, three steps at a time-- trying to beat the rush of water which gurgled and boiled and foamed, steadily rising behind him, snapping at his heels. Gerry could no longer feel Alarija’s weight as he broke out into the sunlight. He kept running--through the empty halls, across the abandoned terraces, the silent gardens. The ground pitched beneath his feet, and he staggered along the ramp to the landing pad where his shuttle waited. He ran up the ramp, into the shuttle, hit the emergency button that closed the doors behind him. He felt the cold metal cooling the cuts in his feet as he ran towards the cockpit. He lowered Alarija’s limp form into the navigator’s chair, strapped her in, sat in the pilot’s chair and flicked on all the controls. The shuttle pitched beneath him, began to slide precariously on its side, and then he engaged the engines, held tight to the steering rod as the jets blasted them off the landing pad. Gerry was thrown back in his chair with the sudden G force, then struggled back into a sitting position as the shuttle gained altitude. He engaged the co-ordinates for the Lucero, and finally disengaged the full blast of the jets, holding the steering rod firm as the shuttle settled into cruising speed. When they were safe, he looked down at Zalaban. The palace was a tiny flicker of white in the massive blue of the surrounding ocean, a flicker that swayed and toppled and was swallowed by the sea. ****

Sorovski strode into Gerry’s quarters, stopped as he saw Gerry lying back on a mass of pillows. His friend’s face was badly scratched, his hands and torso swathed in bandages to prevent infection from the burns. “They told me you were awake,” Soro said, forcing himself to be cheerful although he ached for Gerry’s pain. “Where’s Alarija?” Gerry demanded through stiff lips. Soro hesitated. “She’s in bad shape, Ger.” “Is she alive?” Soro nodded briefly. “But she’s in a coma.” He expelled his breath. “Listen Ger, they’re not sure if she’s going to make it. She’s … not doing well.” Gerry’s brow darkened. “Take me to her.” “Gerry, she’s in intensive care.” “Then put me in the next room,” he said stubbornly. “I want to be with her. I want to see her.” “Gerry, you can’t--” “That’s an order, Commander.” Sorovski sighed. “Very well, Captain. Have it your own way.” And he went to relay to the message to the Chief Medic. **** By the second week, Gerry was well enough to walk. The bandages had been replaced by therm-tape strips which encouraged the healing. The skin on his hands was still blistered and raw but his shoulder was puckered by third degree burns. Not that it mattered to him. All he cared about was that Alarija survive. He leaned his forehead against the cool plasglas which separated him from the Intensive Care Unit beyond, where Alarija lay. She was pale, her hair lank and lifeless. Tubes were stuck in the veins along her arms and legs. The monitor’s steady beat showed her heartbeat was stable, but the brainwave pulse flickered weakly.

The Chief Medic hadn’t been optimistic. Gerry had brushed his views aside. “Don’t leave me,” Gerry whispered to her now. “Come back to me.” But Alarija showed no sign of response. **** Alarija felt herself floating in a large pool of water. A steady drip-drip echoed in the cavern. It was cool and comfortable here, and she didn’t think she’d ever leave. There was something she’d forgotten, though. Someone … or maybe that had just been a dream? She heard him whispering in the darkness sometimes. Calling her name. It made her sad. But … but … he was safe. That was all that mattered. Soon she saw the glimmer of a flame in the distance. It danced and flickered, and then it swelled to a ball of light, which moved this way and that. And then that light swelled, enveloping her. She felt someone standing in the light, a shape flickering in and out. Who are you? Alarija asked the shape. Make yourself known. The shape came into the light, first a shadow, then taking the form of a woman. A tall, slender woman, regal and elegant, with bright hair flowing over her shoulders, over the folds of her simple tunic. Ta’lan? Alarija marvelled. The woman smiled, serene. She held out her hand. Alarija saw the small blue stone cupped in the palm. Take it, Ta’lan said. Alarija took the shining blue gem, stared at its cool glowing light. What is it? Ta’lan’s cool hands touched hers and closed Alarija’s fingers around the stone. Your power. The light faded and was gone. Alarija felt the warmth of the gem infuse her being.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. A pale light surrounded her. She felt disoriented, lost. She moved her hand, felt the tubes sticking out of them, hurting. She turned her head, saw a man on the other side of the glass resting his forehead on it. His eyes were closed but his lips moved. Prayed. She gave a slow smile. “Gerry?” Gerry looked up, saw her, and his face lit up in joy. He pressed the palms of his hands on plasglas in greeting. And grinned.

Epilogue

“The Zalaban Elders are fuming,” Sorovski said as he sipped the sweet Rweena wine. “They think you’ve taken it a step too far.” Gerry grinned. He raised Alarija’s slim hand to his lips and kissed it. “You think so?” Alarija’s bright eyes danced as she looked from Sorovski to Gerry. Sorovski frowned. “I think you’re taking this very lightly, Ger. I know they’ve been in touch with the Universal Alliance Committee. With their influence, there’s a real risk you could be court-martialled.” “I could be,” Gerry said in amusement. “Gerry!” Alarija laughed. “Just put him out of his misery.” Gerry’s lips twitched. “I could be if I hadn’t resigned my commission already.”

Sorovski stared at him. “When did this happen?” “Yesterday.” He gazed down at Alarija, smiling as she snuggled against his shoulder. “I want to be a free man on my honeymoon.” “That doesn’t mean that charges still won’t be brought against--” “Soro, there won’t be any charges. Special Forces Command has assured me the whole matter will be dropped. Marsalir’s murder has not gone unnoticed.” “Well.” Sorovski settled slightly. “Well, that’s good news.” Alarija poked Gerry in the ribs. “Tell him the rest.” Gerry picked up his glass and raised it at Soro. “Let me be the first to congratulate you on your new commission, Captain.” Sorovski’s mouth dropped. “I think that’s shut him up for once,” Gerry told Alarija, grinning. Sorovski flushed, looking pleased. “Well. Well. I don’t know what to say, Ger.” “How about a toast?” Gerry prompted him. Sorovski nodded, rose briskly to his feet. He looked down the banquet table, tapped his glass to silence the wedding guests. He raised his glass. “To the happy couple!”

The End