Page 2 of Trak
Two
Trak Letu, Prince of the Virilian fleet Exir, was bored. He was frequently bored, but now he was especially so. He sat at a private, hidden table in back of Miti Luti, a bar known for its discretion, as negotiators quibbled and music wafted through the air. All manners of quiet dealings went on in these alcoves, while dancers from distant systems undulated on a raised dais lit with a curtain of sparklinggicrystals.
Trade meetings like these were interminable and pointless. TheProilpeople needed the weapons he was selling to continue fighting one of their perpetual wars. They needed the weapons more than Trak needed the payment, and everyone knew it. TheProilwould meet his demands, but to save face they had to spend forever dithering over particulars that neither party truly cared about.
The dark alcove smelled strongly of theProilcommander’s natural musk, which was quite potent,and smoke from the hookah of the councilor, an impartial mediator, whom both parties paid to make sure no one wastoobadly cheated. Trak had no idea what species the councilor was. It had six long arms and a long body coiled up serpentine-like on a cushion at the end of the table. Long eyelashes blinked over four sets of eyes. Shiny black scales covered its body. Trak wasn’t sure if the being was male or female. Wondering about that had intrigued him for a moment, before he decided that he didn’t care enough to bother pondering it.
He picked up his cup and sipped the dark blue liquid inside.Taga, as it was called, managed to taste both sweet and bitter, and was a favorite of the Virilians who enjoyed their very own sector of the space station Bott-L2. They were very active in the trading economy, dealing in salvaged hardware, weapons, and tech from all over the systems. There was little Virilianswouldn’ttrade. People, viruses and things that could destroy a planet were among them. They had a few limits. Just a few.
One of his attendants entered. “My lord, the couriers you hired to retrieve the human female have completed their delivery.”
Nowthiswas interesting. “She’s here?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, sir. In your quarters, as you ordered.”
Trak drained his cup and rose. He looked at his negotiator. “Niir, give them expedited delivery of the goods with the faster recharge upgrade.” He looked to the councilor, whose eight eyes blinked at him through the haze of smoke. “The price holds. Those are my terms.” He dropped his empty cup on the table and walked out.
Anticipation raced through him as he strode through the Miti Luti. The Bott-L2 station was as sprawling as it was dangerous. Alien factions ruled entire segments, with neutral places like the Miti Luti in between for dealings and disputes and occasional assassinations. Just typical business.
His attendant scurried to catch up. Nandi was half Trak’s height but lightning quick. “Trak, you should know there seemed to be some trouble with communication.”
“What trouble?”
“The couriers you hired were under the impression that the female delivered was a slave and…treated her as such.”
Trak stopped dead in his tracks. “Did they touch her?”
“No.” Nandi shook her head vigorously. “But she was treated roughly. She is, um, shaken.”
Trak nodded and continued on.Shaken. Humans were so fragile, isolated in their little corner of their galaxy. This was probably the female’s first trip off her planet, and the feel of it must not have set well with her. If he could have spared even one of his own team, he would have sent them instead of hiring a courier service.A Virilian could have explained space travel to her, but his people were spread thin. Many were scattered out on assignments, delivering or retrieving goods. There were precious few Virilians left, and with the demise of ninety percent of their females due to a disease, their numbers were not exactly increasing. Even he, who was notold, felt the push to produce offspring.
He was eager to meet his newly delivered human female.
The corridors in the Virilian section of the station were narrow, but well lit. His kind were not drawn to wide open spaces, unlike their Baylan associates. The tight spaces of their ships suited them fine, and the section of this space station that they had paid for anddesigned was ideal for people who lived in tunnels below the ground on their home planet of Virilia.
Trak stopped before the entrance to his chambers. As leader of this section, he had the largest and most luxurious suite of rooms. A strange prickle of nerves skated over him before he brushed it off. Even if the female was frightened, she’d get over it and get on with it. She knew why she was here. She’d signed a contract. He reached into a pocket on his belt and pulled out a slim metal chip that would load her language into his brain and allow him to communicate with her. Feeling around on the back of his skull, he found the slot it went in.
Getting the neural implant upgrade had been infinitely helpful over the past many cycles. How many conversations had he been able to listen to while pretending not to understand, and gaining the advantage? Too many to count. Now, it was useful in a different way. He inserted the chip and instantly, he was flooded with a language he’d used before, a number of cycles earlier, when he’d visited one of the Baylan base ships, the impressive Veska-3. Ah, what he would have given to get his hands on the plans to that ship’s energy core. Anyway, he’d been advised thatEnglishwas the language to be used because there would be so many humans aboard who spoke it.
His mind wrapped around the language again, remembering the feel of the words on his mouth and the meanings of vocabulary for objects and places he had never seen or heard of. All he really needed was to be able to tell the female what to do. It shouldn’t be that hard. Speaking of which, his cock stirred at the thought of the willing, eager woman inside his quarters.
He raised his arm to the plate beside the door and a chip in his wrist made the heavily armored door click open. Trak took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Three
Anna huddled in the corner, behind the bed. The door was opening. Light from the corridor outside cast a sliver of white inside the room. Someone came inside. She could hear heavy footsteps. The door clicked shut, slicing off the outside light.
The chamber was large, but there was no place to effectively hide. The most prominent piece of furniture was a lavish platform bed, piled high with silky pillows. The sight of it had made her stomach churn. There were a half dozen doors leading off this room, but all of them were locked. She’d tried them.
“Hello?” said a deep male voice, except it sounded more like, “‘Ello,” like a British guy would say. “I say, where are you?”
She said nothing, but pressed herself deeper into the corner, pulling the scratchy blanket tightly around herself. The dark room threw shadows as the male drew closer. Was this her intended…what? Lover? That did not seem like the appropriate word. Rapist? Hopefully not. She’d agreed to have sex with this guy, but the terms of the contract stipulated that sex would not beforcedupon them.
A pair of booted feet appeared before her.
“Ah,” said the male. “There you are.”
Anna slowly raised her gaze, up the booted feet, over long, muscled, leather-encased legs. Her eyes widened at the bulge between his thighs, before moving upwards, to a wide chest crossed with thick leather straps extending over each shoulder and across his body, making an X pattern. Tattoos decorated his skin in both images and what appeared to be words. He wore a collection of bracelets on each wrist—metal, chain, leather—all different materials were represented, along with the occasional odd marking on them.
