Page 92 of Sawoots Story

I don’t usually spill my guts, but I’m on the second pint of Station Ale and it’s nice to have someone to talk to. My holo-vid calls with Tasha are too few. She’s busy setting up an entire planet, and she doesn’t have Theme helping her. If it’s hard to deal with a space station, I can’t imagine what’s going on with her.

Larixa gives me a sly grin. “That sounds like fun. But me? I hate losing control.”

I nod. “It takes some getting used to.”

We’re both a little red from drink. The Sky-Bar is bustling, but we’re in the private room, with big glass windows staring out at the twinkling diamonds of endless stars.

Sometimes I wish we were orbiting a planet. It would feel more stable, like we’re anchored to something in the vastness of space, but the asteroid field makes this location incredibly profitable.

Too profitable, lately. The Scorp have been going mad. Attacks that used to be a monthly thing are now a daily occurrence. Miners are dying, and we’ve been repairing damage from the huge claws of the Scorp that can wreak havoc even on the armor of ships. The violent beasts are coming like a storm.

I shake my head, trying not to think of Scorp as I down another gulp of the brown ale. Lately my thoughts have been negative. Tar’ank can guzzle down a keg of the beer before he starts getting tipsy, but I can already feel the two glasses going to my head.

I look down at the grog. “At least with booze, you choose it, you know? You make a conscious decision to get drunk and lose your inhibition. With the Bond…” I trail off.

“The whole damn universe is losing control,” she replies grimly.

I lick my lips, almost put the mug down, then think better of it, draining the glass. I burp and Larixa laughs. I feel like the old me, back when Tasha and I would discuss deals and plans over one too many and curse the hangover the next day.

“The Aurelian Empire splitting in half…Scorp going crazy…and the Bond is getting way more intense. Oh, and I forgot to mention Aurelian warships getting ripped in half when Orb-Shifting fails! Maybe it is the end times, and the Priests are right about Obsidian.”

“I fucking hope not. Because if that’s true, it isn’t Obsidian we have to worry about.”

I give her a piercing look, trying to decipher her words. “Oh? I thought the legends said he would split the universe in two. What could be worse than that?”

She nods, lost in thought. “Yeah. He’ll split it in two. I don’t know, I’m no expert on Aurelian Prophecies, but the Priests think Obsidian will save us in the end. Apparently there’s some big bad evil only he can stop,” she says, getting glib at the end as she snaps back to reality.

“I’m going to need another,” I say, filling both our glasses from the pitcher. So much for trying not to think of the million stressful things in the universe. It’s bad enough knowing the universe is going to be plunged into war. I don’t want to imagine for a second the prophecies could be real and there’s a greater evil than the Separatist Aurelians.

Larixa reaches into her pocket and pulls out a little box, sliding it over the table.

I don’t have to ask what it is. My eyes go wide. I try to keep my aura as neutral as possible, so my triad doesn’t suspect a thing as I open the box.

Inside is a dull ring. It’s black, flecked with Orb veins running off from tiny little Orbs the size of grains of sand, and it has a strange…matte-ness to it, a dull, empty look that seems to drain the color from the room. I pick it up. It’s room temperature, neither warm nor cold. I twirl it in my fingers. Such a small thing, to have such power.

“You’re trouble,” I say to Larixa.

She nods. “I worried your triad might not want you to get one, especially that Tar’ank. I sourced it a week ago. You pay Theme and Iextremelywell. This is my gift to show my appreciation to my employer…although you’re going to need to help me keep my job, because your triad is about to be pissed at me. Especially that one,” she says, cocking her head over at Tar’ank.

Maybe it’s the two beers in me, but I suddenly feel like my old self, ready to face the universe and everything it has to sling against me. “Tar’ank is just going to have to deal. He’s a big boy.”

“Yes heis,”she says, unable to keep the admiration out of her voice. He’s a fucking beast and love him or hate him, you have to respect him. “Try it on? I didn’t have a way to test if it works.”

I shake my head. “I can’t. If it works like the disruptor field the Toads have, and I put it on, I’ll disappear from their minds. They’ll think you killed me. I’m not going to give them a heart attack.” I give her a long, searching look. “Who did you buy this from, anyways?”

Where did we hire Larixa from?

I trust her, but this is something else. I think we poached her from a neighboring station. Did she come here to interview, or did we headhunt her? She’s still a bit of an unknown, and I’m dealing with a device I don’t fully understand.

“I got it shipped from a Human Alliance merchant. Accredited, don’t worry, though it cost even more. We’ve done business with him a few times before. Those rings are illegal in the Aurelian Empire, so don’t bring it into Aurelian space. I trust the guy. He’s the one who sourced the parts to make repairs on X15 models of…you’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”

I blink, catching her words late as I hold up the ring in front of the viewing port, staring at it with awe. Truth is, I couldn’t focus on her words. It’s so dull, so plain against the majesty of space. This might just be the thing that keeps me sane.

The ring clatters on the table as the Bond thrums in my mind. I get an intense vision of myself on all fours, small and sandwiched between Tar’ank and Garrick. I can almost taste his thick cock dripping pre-cum in my mouth as Tar’ank ruts me from behind, slapping my ass as he drills his cock into me in hard, fast thrusts. Each time he slams his dick into me it forces Garrick’s cock deeper down my throat.

The image is so real I lose sight of the bar for a second. It clears, and the ring is sitting in the middle of the table like it’s watching me. My hand is shaking, open and empty.

The Bond is a humming livewire, and I want desperately to put the ring on to give me relief. I force it down on my own. I have to be able to control it on my own. I have to be able to trust my own mind. The peak of the urge wave passes, and I ride it to a manageable level, looking over through the circular window that gives the private room a view of the main bar.

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