Rick Endres and  Elizabeth Knauel

Note: This story contains graphic violence and sexual situations. It is not intended for readers until the age of 17.

2259

Day 1
Main Reception Hall
Hotel Sybaron
Planet Chrysalis

Humans can be such boorish creatures, Doctor Thelans thought sourly as he sipped his drink. The reception was being held in the main ballroom of the Hotel Sybaron, the most luxurious hotel on Chrysalis, owned by the entertainment mogul Aaron Cord. Who else would go to such bother as to have a reception before the award was given? There would be coverage on all the news media, covering the entire known Federation universe. Granted, he was practically guaranteed the Z-Magnees Prize with his latest invention. And such an award seemed to require a celebration and the notoriety. This celebration. But the Humans at such celebrations allowed themselves to become public spectacles.

Case in point, the Human that was standing in front of him, weaving slightly. Admiral Mark Stoddard, an older, middle-aged human with a large chest and powerful build, was standing ramrod straight, a hand on Thelans' shoulder as he turned to the small crowd that was still around the Andorian scientist.

"I tell you," he slurred, his gaze barely focusing on the small group of Humans and Andorians that were surrounding the two of them, his arms gesticulating around his head, "I was there on Arcturus, at the test range when those babies were first fired. Unbelievable! These phasers make the lasers look like-like pop-guns!"

Thelans shrugged his shoulder, effectively removing the offending hand from his body. "Lasers are pop-guns by comparison," he said coldly, his pale blue eyes turning icy as his antenna curled tightly on his white hair. His light blue skin seemed to turn white in anger.

Nodding, Stoddard slowly, deliberately moved toward the buffet and liberated another tall glass of liquor. This one was something red and green, but it didn't matter to Stoddard. As long as it was alcoholic he didn't care what it was.

"We're all here for the same reason," he continued. "To see the launch of the first new starship to be armed with the phasers. The U.S.S. Hood. Chrysalis has one of the best space docks around, second only to the one at Earth. But that one is working overtime to get all the refits done that we're doing to the rest of the Constitution-class ships. In less than two weeks, we will have one of the most powerful ships in the universe. The new Constitution-class holds twice as many crew members with a weapon twice as powerful as anything we have now." His face suddenly drooped and his eyes grew misty. "Pity we didn't have these weapons on the old Hood. If they had, they would all be alive. Jacki would still be alive..."

He shook his head sharply, then straightened his back again. His glass, half-full, was raised high into the air. He turned and stared at the crowd, still milling and mingling, the room buzzing with the many conversations. "Remember the Hood!" His voice was strong, steady. "Remember the Hood!"

The crowd raised their drinks and repeated the toast.

Stoddard didn't wait for that though. He swallowed the last of the drink in one gulp. Then he put the glass down carefully and opened his mouth. His form wavered for a brief instant, then collapsed backwards. Some quirk of fate had placed him next to a large soft chair; it caught his falling body. As his head fell backwards, his eyes rolled back in his head. His head lolled to one side for an instant, then sank onto his deep chest. Soon a rumbling was emitting from his chest as it rose and fell slowly.

Thelans sneered at the sight of the drunken admiral, then turned and moved toward the buffet to get another drink for himself. The rest of the folks pointedly tried to ignore the snoring man slumped in the chair, giving him surreptitious glances, clucking their tongues under their breaths. They knew the why, but they still didn't approve.

A Human woman, in her early fifties, dressed elegantly yet sedately, walked through the crowd to the chair. She looked at the crowd, noting the pitying stares from the people. She closed her eyes in quiet pain, then searched the room until her eyes lit on the man sleeping drunkenly in the chair. Shaking her graying blond head sadly, her hazel eyes brimming with tears, she walked over to the slumbering man. "Oh, Mark, not again," she murmured softly.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she walked to the Andorian, her head lowered in shame. "I'm sorry, so sorry, Doctor Thelans," she began. "My husband... He never used to be this way. But ever since the destruction of the Hood..."

Thelans' expression remained impassive as he murmured, "You have my sympathies, madam."

"He never used to drink like this," Lisa Stoddard went on, trying to explain as she had so many times at so many receptions this past year. "He only started after the Hood was destroyed at Xantharus. You see, Jacki, our daughter," she bit her lip to stop herself from crying, then went on, "our youngest child, was an ensign on the Hood at the time"

Thelans' expression flickered for a nano-second, then returned to its impassive glare. "You have my condolences, madam," he said, carefully keeping his tone neutral. He'd never met anyone who'd had family on the lost ship before. The loss of a child, especially the youngest, explained much to the Andorian.

The awkward silence was broken by the sound of large body forcing its way through the crowd. "Let me through!" a deep voice bellowed angrily at the few that refused to move from his path.

A Tellarite wearing the dress uniform of a Starfleet admiral stood in front of Mark Stoddard's sleeping form, his hands on his hips, his head shaking back and forth in disgust before Admiral Gevek turned to look at Lisa with a mixture of pity and sympathy on his piggish face.

"Again, Lisa?" he asked, his basso voice soft and tender. He was as used to this scenario as she was.

"I'm afraid so, Gev," she nodded, the tears threatening to break through in spite of her resolve. "Can you help me get him back to our room?" she asked, a request that she had made many times this past year.

"Of course I will." Gevek cradled her head in his giant hand gently. "I will do better than that."

He moved back to the chair and the sleeping man. With a fluid motion that belied his size and stature, Gevek lifted the Human from the chair and settled the limp form over his broad shoulders in a manner that said he had done that many times this past year. Checking to make sure the Human was secure, he started to walk out of the reception through the same crowd he had so recently barged through.

"What's the matter with you people?" he snapped irritably at the throng who was now staring outright at the sight, his voice now loud and belligerent. "Haven't you ever seen a man who's had too much to drink at a social reception before? Now out of my way! Move!"

Using his free hand he shoved aside several people who had been slow to respond to his command, creating a path for both himself and Lisa Stoddard to the elevator and to their rooms.

Thelans finished his drink, watching the departure of Admiral Gevek with Stoddard slung over his shoulder. Humans were boors and Tellarites were boorish pigs. And he had had enough of this boorish reception, even if it was in his honor.

It was the one thing he really hated about being nominated for these awards, or even winning the awards. He deserved every prize he received, and then some. He was a genius by every standard known to every sentient being in the known galaxy. He could create whatever the power brokers wanted him to. It didn't matter what it was, or what it would be used for. Anything and everything he created just brought his name to the foreground again, forcing the cretins to give him yet another award, and add another accolade to his long line of credits. And that was all that mattered to him: the praise and acclamation. He could never get enough of those.

But he could only stand to be around these inferior beings for so long. And he had been with these inferior creatures longer than usual.

"Gentle beings," he placed his empty glass on the table, "it has been a very long day. And tomorrow will be even longer. I must retire and rest."

There was polite applause as the Andorian made his way out of the room.

Thelans let a soft sigh escape his lips as the turbolift doors closed behind him. "Level Thirty, Suite B," he ordered the turbolift.

He placed his palm on the touchpad at the door to his suite and walked into the dimly-lit room. His eyes narrowed as his hand strayed to his belt and the ceremonial flabbjellah that hung from it.

Someone was here, in his room. Someone who did not belong. Whoever that someone was would be the one surprised. He might be a genius and a scientist, but he was also an Andorian. He could fight as well as any of his people's heroes, and better than many of the current warriors. And while ceremonial, the flabbjellah was still a most deadly weapon, which he would soon prove to the intruder in his room.

Then he heard a soft swishing sound and the sounds of a young female's voice humming. As his eyes became accustomed to the darkened room, he spied a young Human female on her hands and knees, a bucket at her side, and a scrub brush in her hand. She was small, but well endowed, he noted. He couldn't help but notice since she was completely naked. On top of that, her rounded haunches were aimed directly at him.

"Oh, hi, Doctor Thelans," she paused her scrubbing and looked over her shoulder, her raven shoulder-length hair falling around her face like a dark halo. Her dark blue eyes were sparkling, her smile was bright, innocent, apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come in." She turned back to her work, "I just prefer to do the floors the old-fashioned way. They get cleaner this way. Much cleaner than with those sonic brushes."

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Thelans said, his fingers uncurling from the knife handle as he continued to stare at her posterior, his pulse quickening ever so slightly.

A throaty laugh shook her body enticingly. "I'm Cinda, the maid. I'm really sorry about this. I just prefer to do my work in the nude. I was raised on Belian. You know, one of the nudist colonies," she added. "I have a hard time doing anything with clothes on. Besides, I didn't think you'd be back until later tonight, what with the reception and all. And I did so want to have your room nice and clean, especially since it didn't get cleaned this morning."

Thelans narrowed his eyes fractionally as he watched her slow, deliberate movements, drinking in the contours of her body. He had seen a maid enter his room as he had left to go for a breakfast reception. Why was she lying? What was she after?

Then Thelans relaxed as she continued to scrub the floor, dipping her brush into the bucket periodically, moving her body ever so slightly, letting him catch a glimpse of her genitalia almost invitingly.

A calculating glint sparked in pale blue eyes. She was young, and seemed to be available for the taking. And he was not old or feeble by any stretch of the imagination. If I chose, I could take her. I could handle any protestations she might make. She probably would not even protest. Belians were reputed to be free-spirited Humans when it came to sexual encounters. And where could she hide a weapon? Not on her. She has no place to hide anything.

"Are you sure that's the only reason you're here?" he asked softly.

She leaned back on her haunches, smiling in apology. Her position let him view her firm breasts rising and falling with her breathing as well as tempt him with her mons. "You've found me out. I knew I couldn't fool you." Her head dipped, her hair falling over her face for a brief instant before she flipped it over her shoulder, and looked at the scientist contritely, "I have a confession to make. I have this thing for intelligent men. The more intelligent, the better. They make me horny." Her entire body shivered, as if in anticipation. "Horny as hell."

I've heard of females like her, Thelans licked his lips as he stared at her soft, rounded form, mesmerized by the slow rise and fall of her breasts. They spend their time following certain types of folks, seeking sexual encounters with specific types of males or females. Usually they seek such encounters with holovid stars, musicians, politicians. Not scientists.

"I wanted to make it the smartest, greatest scientist in the galaxy, and rumor has it that's you," she went on, resuming her previous stance, letting her legs slide apart temptingly. After a beat, she turned her head back and she stared at him, noticing the bulge at his crotch. "Well? For a genius, you're acting pretty dumb. What do you want? An engraved invitation?"

Thelans blinked, unsure that he had heard her correctly.

She stood upright in one fluid movement and sauntered toward him. She took his head in her hands and pulled it down to hers, forcing her tongue into his mouth. Then she ground her hips against his. He felt her smile as his organ stiffened noticeably. His antennae alternated between curling tightly against his scalp and straightening out in ecstasy as his arms crushed her young body to his.

She pushed herself away from his body, just far enough to let her fingers unfasten his clothes as she continued to kiss him vigorously. Soon he was naked as she was. She pulled his body close to hers, letting him savor the touch of her soft skin against his, making him even more erect.

Then she pulled back, her sapphire eyes smoldering with naked desire. "Consider yourself invited," she said throatily as she sauntered back to her bucket, her hips undulating provocatively. She knelt on the floor, her buttocks pointed directly at Thelans, her legs spread wide.

Thelans padded up behind her and knelt between her legs, his thighs brushing hers, coaxing her legs even further apart. He put his hands on her hips and entered her with one thrust. He was rewarded to hear her gasp at his penetration. Andorians were slender creatures, with slim appendages. Except for one. It did often startle the Human females when they were first penetrated by Andorians.

He smiled as he let his hands stray over her body while he continued to thrust in and out of her, his hands seeking to find her breasts. She was indeed a young creature, firm and eager, thrusting her hips against his in wild abandon. She gasped again as he began to knead her breasts, pulling her body closer to his.

Thelans felt her respond to his thrusts, her moans and cries for more filling his ears, exciting him even more as he continued to caress her breasts with one hand as his other hand wandered down her stomach toward her mons. Her head was thrown back, the scrubbing forgotten as they continued to move together to the rhythm he dictated. Thelans let his head bury itself in her neck, nuzzling her, increasing her moans of pleasure, her pleas for more. Using his hands and lips he cajoled her body to respond to his, to restrain itself from releasing until he was ready for her to do so.

Her breathing was becoming ragged as they continued, as did his. He completely lost track of time. She started to whimper, begging for release, but he refused to grant it, wanting to prolong the pleasure for as long as he could.

Finally he felt his climax build and he signaled her body to climax with his. She collapsed to the floor, panting hard, Thelans on her, also breathing hard.

Several minutes later, she crawled out from under him, still breathing hard. She got to her feet slowly. Thelans rolled on his back and stared up at her lithe form covered with a sheen from their recent encounter. She was exquisite; he licked his lips, feeling himself responding to her again. That had never happened before to him. She would be the perfect companion for him, he decided. Then he wondered if she would let him take her again, this time in a more Andorian fashion. And he wondered what it would take to convince her to join him permanently.

A frown creased his blue face as he continued to stare at her young, classically lovely face.

Something was wrong. She was standing there, but she was not the same creature who had writhed under him in sexual abandon only a few short minutes before. Her blue eyes were dark, but now they were hard and cold, not filled with passion and desire, and her dazzling smile was gone.

And a laser pistol was in her hand.

"You bastard," she snarled at him. "You invented the phaser. Because of that invention, the Hood was sacrificed. And all my friends were killed. All of them! You killed them. If the Hood hadn't been carrying those faked plans, hadn't been forced to be the decoy while the Farragut got you to safety, the Orions would never have attacked the Hood."

His mouth opened in response, but before he could speak, the laser blast seared his crotch, obliterating the organ that had so recently been buried in her. A scream of agony erupted out of his throat. Her arm moved slightly. "Remember the Hood," she said coldly as her finger tightened and the blast found his chest.

She stared impassively at the nude form. Dark cobalt blue blood was trickling from his wounds, pooling around his body. Bending over, she dipped her finger into the fluid, then stepped over the corpse and walked to a nearby wall. She scrawled a message on the wall, returning to the body for more blood to finish the missive. Remember the Hood!

Tossing the pistol in the bucket where it had been hidden, she walked to the bathroom and turned on the water, then stepped under the hot stream. She scrubbed her entire body, several times, paying particular attention to the area between her legs, and everywhere else his hands had touched her body, her face twisting in hate and anger as she scrubbed diligently.

Finally she felt cleaner and stepped out, toweling herself dry. She slipped into the maid's uniform she had secreted behind a pillow and picked up her cleaning tools. She took another tool from the bucket, a descrambler, and opened the door. Pausing, she looked up and down the hall, making sure that none of the other dignitaries were returning to their rooms early, then walked toward the turbolift.

*****

Sylvia pushed her sonic cleaning tools along the hallway. Some people come to Chrysalis to play, some to make deals, and some to work. She was one of the latter. At least here, she could count on a decent wage and better tips than she could at home.

Still, she had hoped to get a better job than that of a maid. Chrysalis boasted a thriving adult holofim industry; perhaps she should check out those ads, Sylvia sighed to herself. Okay, so she didn't have all the physical attributes of, say, an Ariel Cord, but she wasn't exactly a dog either. And she was damned good in bed; just ask any of her lovers.

Sylvia sighed again and brought out her master key, touching it to the touchpad along with her hand. No, she wasn't really cut out to be a porn actress. She preferred to know the male before he got between her legs, and not just five minutes before the director yelled action. And she wasn't really all that eager to take on groups of males, Human or otherwise. She still preferred her lovers one at a time.

At least with this job she got free room and board. The room was a good-sized one, and she could do whatever she pleased, with whomever she pleased, there during her off-hours, and the food was downright delicious.

Sylvia shook her head as she walked into the room. While she could usually count on large tips from those in these private suites, Doctor Thelans was downright miserly. There was never any gratuity left for her when she came to clean his rooms. There probably wouldn't be one today either.

She spotted a dark bluish stain on the wall, and frowned in disgust. You'd think a genius such as Doctor Thelans would keep a scratch pad near by. Now she'd have to clean the wall as well as make the bed and clean the carpet.

Her foot caught on something on the carpeted floor. Just like a genius, she thought bitterly, just leave anything and everything around for the maid to pick up. Staring down, she saw, instead of the suspected objects, a naked corpse with two charred holes in the body.

She screamed. And screamed again.

Her knees began to buckle under her, and she sank to the floor by the body. Her eyes raised up to the wall, to the stain. She could see where the liquid had begun to dribble down the wall. Her eyes wandered back to the body and the blood by it, and noted that the color was the same.

She screamed again, this time even louder.

And didn't stop until the hotel doctor finally sedated her.

Day 4
The Office of the Director of the
Barrier Alliance Consortium
Xantharus

The screen in front of the black-robed man flickered as the figure moved out of the room and walked down the hall. The man leaned back in the chair and watched as the scene shifted from the hall to that of the dim room, moving jerkily as the person holding the recorder walked into the room. It focused on the body on the floor, letting the camera pan over the form, lingering on the two wounds. He flinched when he noticed that the male's genitals were missing. No male should die devoid of his manhood.

Then the camera moved from the body to a wall. It lingered on the scrawled message. He frowned as he read the message. "Remember the Hood."

He remembered the Hood all right. A debacle that cost him plenty. He had hoped to get the plans for the phaser, and found out that the Hood had been a decoy to let the Federation get the plans safely out of reach of its enemies. Out of reach of the Orions. It had worked.

The tape finally ran out, leaving the screen black.

The Director of the Barrier Alliance frowned as he ran the tape back. He had been most displeased when his team on Chrysalis had informed him that Thelans had been murdered on the eve of the announcement of his receiving the Z-Magnees Prize. They had been sent there to capture the Andorian inventor and bring him back to Xantharus. He might have been deprived of the plans of the new phaser, but with Thelans in his clutches he could have the phaser weapon, and more.

The Director of the Barrier Alliance punched several buttons and ran the tape back, stopping it on the female's face. There was something about that face that was familiar, damned familiar. Tapping a few more buttons gave him a close-up of her face.

She was a lovely creature. He felt his body respond to her form momentarily. She would have been a fine addition to his harem, he nodded. Except, she had cheated him of his prize. And no one who cheated him lived.

Had she done anything else, she would join his harem, without a mindwipe, forced to endure and please him until he tired of her. And considering what he saw of her, that would have taken a very long time.

He continued to study the young woman's face. Why did that innocent face bother him? More buttons were tapped, enhancing the close-up even more. He knew her. Where, when or how he knew her, he couldn't remember, but he did know her. She'd done something different to herself. He didn't know what. Yet.

A scuffling noise sounded outside his door just before a buzzer interrupted his musings. "What?!" he snapped.

"My lord, may we see you?" a male voice belonging to one of his lieutenants requested.

The Director's eyes narrowed as he blanked the screen. "Very well, but this had better be good, Xeron."

"I believe this will interest you, lord," Xeron answered.

The door swung open and twelve pirates entered. Between them was an Orion female, dressed in skins that barely covered her breasts and pelvis. Her hair was coal black, in wild disarray, her eyes blue-green, sparkling in anger as she fought to free herself from the men. Two held her arms even though her hands were shackled in front of her. She was cursing steadily, denouncing their parentage and their parents' parentage, barely taking time to breathe between epithets, then she started on cursing their descendants.

At any other time the Director might have been amused by this female's antics. She was lovely, and her temper made her very desirable. He might have had his men hold her while he sampled her.

But not today.

"You bother me for this trollop who tries to be an Animal Woman?" He leveled a murderous glare at Xeron. The pale, silver eyes behind the black face mask glittered.

The female paused in her cursing with his first words, her breasts heaving from her exertions. "My lord," she addressed him, cutting off Xeron and his men, "I am a prostitute, working in the Meon Brothel in the Centa district of Gracchos. I am a good prostitute; ask any of the customers I've served. Ask the Brothel Master. And that is all I am. A prostitute. A simple prostitute."

"A simple prostitute? Hah!" Xeron's huge hands grabbed her bra and panties, ripping them from her body, exposing her firm breasts and pubic region to the entire cadre. "I think not, lord." Xeron snorted as he motioned to his men.

The men dragged the struggling female to the table and threw her on it, two holding her arms above her head and two hold her legs spread wide. Xeron stepped between her legs, and jabbed his fingers into her vagina, causing her to gasp at his crude entrance, then spread it wide open. Turning to the Director, he asked, "Since when do Orion females have pink female flesh, lord?"

The Director stared at the ruddy flesh of her vaginal wall, his eyes glittering hard. He got up slowly and walked over to her, noting her expression had changed to one of mild terror. He smiled coldly down at her from behind his mask.

Suddenly, a small dagger was in his hand. The blade glistened briefly, then moved lightning fast and buried itself into her groin. She screamed in pain. He twisted the dagger, and pulled it out. She screamed again as she passed out. He watched as the red fluid flowed from the wound to the table in a torrent.

"A simple prostitute?" The Director snorted as he walked back to his desk. "Bah! A damned Starfleet Intelligence officer more likely. Xeron, you've done well." He sat down and gave them a pleased nod. "Take her to Marina. Let her work on the bitch. Marina will find out what she is hiding."

"Yes, lord." Xeron nodded and signaled his men. The two holding her arms dragged her off the table and out the door, trailing blood in their wake.

As the door closed behind them, he brought the picture back and stared at the female's face. As he stared at her face, his mind began racing. Then his face broke into a smile and he punched in a series of commands. A few seconds later his smile widened as he read the information that scrawled on the bottom of the screen.

"I thought I knew you, bitch," he chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. "Yes, I did know you." He tapped on the intercom. "Get me Haldar," he commanded the aide.

"Haldar is completing a foreclosure, lord," the aide responded. "Shall I signal him?"

The Director let a smile play over his face. Haldar had asked to handle this particular foreclosure personally, he remembered. And when he learned why, the Director had permitted it, glad to be able to do something for his protégé. "No, no. It's not that urgent. Have him check in with me when he returns."

"Yes, lord."

The Director stared at the frozen face on his screen, at the blue eyes that were looking into the camera. "Soon, bitch, soon. Your head will be in my trophy case in a place of honor. Soon."

Day 4
Aboard the Star Liner Andoria
Deep Space

Christopher Pike walked into his cabin on the Star Liner Andoria. It was larger than his cabin on the Enterprise, not to mention more luxurious. But that was the difference between a starship and a Star Liner, he mused. And that was one of the perks of being a starship captain, he smiled. Obtaining passage on a civilian ship to anywhere in Federation space while on Federation business. Even on a luxury liner. He had to wear his uniform, but it was worth it.

He could have gotten back to Chrysalis on any of the regular shuttles. But not in time for the launching of the U.S.S. Hood. And he wanted to be there for that. More than anything in the universe, he wanted to be there when Jack Raintree got his new ship. He sobered remembering the last time he'd seen his friend, lying on the biobed in Sickbay, sick at the loss of his ship, the loss of his crew, all but one, and the insult of medals being awarded to him and his crew for playing decoy.

Then he brightened as he recalled the other reason he was going back to Chrysalis. There was an open-ended invitation from Ariel Cord to join her at her father's estate on Chrysalis. And he was going to take her up on that offer. Again.

He'd given up trying to discover who was smiling on him when he'd found Ariel. She was years younger than he, and he often felt like he was robbing the cradle when he was with her in public. Yet he was never happier than when he was with her in public or in private.

And while he was grateful that he was able to procure passage on the civilian ship, he was not about to be exploited by the Andoria's command crew. He was not going to be available for any command luncheons or dinners; no, he was going to be spending a lot of time in this stateroom, enjoying the soft mattress and satin sheets, the room service with food that would make Boyce more than a trifle upset if he ever found out (and knowing Boyce, he would), and the closed circuit entertainment holos. In short, he was going to relax and enjoy this cruise completely.

Pike picked up the large, complimentary drink that was waiting for him, and sank into the mattress, wondering idly just who he'd have to bribe in Starfleet Command to get one of these for his quarters on the Enterprise, snatching the remote device on his way.

"Let's see. 250 viewing selections," he read off the unit. "Ah, what's this?" He frowned as he looked at the small switch. "Oh, a lock-out device." He tapped the switch, noticing that the screen came alive with a notice and a disclaimer.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. Well, he couldn't blame the Andoria or any of the folks who controlled the entertainment feed; what was right for certain species was absolutely wrong for another, and certain cultures still controlled what the young viewed until the young were of an age to answer for themselves. Thus the lock-out device and the need for his fingerprint to be entered to prove that he was one of the sentients who could view certain channels.

Once the blank blue screen disappeared, he began to click the button, watching a few minutes before he switch to another channel. What was that old saying? 250 channels and nothing's on. Or something like that. The stuff was either trite, or contrived, or downright boring.

Actually, he was just doing something to give his eyes and hands something to do while he thought about his ship now in the docks around Earth. She was going to be a hell of a lot different when he got back to her, he sighed wistfully. Perhaps it would be for the better. More firepower, more defensive capability, more speed, more crew

Pike let a small smile creep on his face as he recalled his first meeting with his new Chief Engineer. He'd found the man buried up to his knees in a Jefferies tube, issuing orders, calling for tools and demanding readings from his engineers. When someone had finally told him that the captain was in Engineering, he'd crawled out, not apologizing for not keeping his appointment with Pike.

"Ah dinna think ye'd mind if Ah got straight t' work," he said, his Scottish brogue strong. "They say that th' refit will take twelve weeks, sir. Twelve weeks! An' that's just for th' engine an' weapon refit only. Not t' mention th' time t' change th' configuration of th' crew area t' house four hundred folks. Makes it a true starship."

"Yes, that's right," Pike had answered, containing his own emotions. He wasn't sure what to make of this dark-haired man. Or why he was carrying on the way he was.

"Aye, that's what they say," the Scotsman had snorted. "Ah say that it can be done in four. Three if no one bothers me, or my name's not Montgomery Scott."

"Three?" Pike had frowned, confused.

"Aye, sir. Three. Then those other folks can get busy on their part of the refit so this bonnie ship can be back in space where she belongs. An' in less time than those Klingon heathens say. Ah'm thinkin' ye'll be happier once ye're back in command of yer ship instead of having t' hobnob wi' th' bureaucrats an' diplomats an' such; get back t' th' real business of runnin' a starship."

Pike had laughed, clapping a hand on the man's shoulder. He already liked this man. "Very well, Mister Scott. Carry on."

"Aye, sir!" Scott had nodded at the man, and disappeared back into the Jefferies tube, resuming where he'd left off moments before.

Pike had reread Montgomery Scott’s file when he got back to his ready room. The man was a genius in his own right, creating or perfecting much of what was known about the warp engines and the engineering section of the ships. He’d been an instructor for a number of years at the Academy, earning many accolades there from his peers. He would have probably never left had Larry Marvick not been promoted and reassigned. Pike himself had asked his old classmate to join his crew as the chief engineer.

His musings were interrupted by a flicker on the screen. "Whoa, what's that?" He lifted his finger from button and watched the action on the screen. "Oh! That kind of action," he chuckled as he watched several forms, nude, clutching and groping at each other. He looked at the crawl on the bottom of the screen, noting there were several other such channels, the ones that had required his fingerprint to release the lock-out.

He flipped to one of the other channels, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he saw the way the beings were contorted around each other in a the throes of passion. "Has to be computer-generated," he muttered under his breath. "No Human could do that. Could they?"

Still seeing nothing to keep his interest for more that a few fleeting minutes, he continued to switch channels. And then a young female form was filling the screen and he stared in amazement.

She was kneeling on the wet beach, eyeing the three males that were standing around her, daring them to take her. Suddenly the taller Human male leaped on her and rammed his organ into her anus, while the smaller Human flipped himself under her and forced himself into her vagina. The Andorian watched as the three began their orgy, then, when he was satisfied that she was caught up in the passion of the moment, grabbed her head and opened her mouth for his penis.

"Ohmygod!" Pike gasped as he stared as the female's face, now in the center of the screen, occupied with the Andorian even as she continued to keep pace with the two Human males and their pumping actions. Her eyes were glazed with lust, rolled back in her head, as she greedily sucked the Andorian's huge organ.

A male voice was speaking as the action continued on the screen. "Don't miss the Ariel Cord double-feature tonight on the Starlight Channel. Our features tonight: Hot Nights on the Beach and Caged and Deadly."

"Ariel?" His voice was a squeaked whisper. "Ariel? My Ariel?"

The bodies on the screen bucked at the same time, and the camera focused on the pleased face of the female as she sat among the men, now collapsed on the sands, her eyes beckoning for more to come and take her. The pert face with the green eyes stared at the camera, still smoldering with passion and lust as she licked her lips seductively, savoring the taste of the Andorian's clear blue semen.

"Ariel?" Pike repeated again, his voice barely audible.

A voice sounded, breaking into his shocked thoughts. "Will you be watching the Premium Special?" the computer repeated.

Pike chewed his lip for a brief instant. Obviously these channels allowed some peeping, but to do more than that, to be a voyeur, required payment. His tastes did not run to pornographic material in the first place, and in the second he wasn't sure how he'd justify it on his expense account. Still, he had to see exactly what Ariel had been up to in the months that he had been on patrol.

"Yes," he squeaked. Surprised at the sound of his voice, he cleared his throat and repeated in his normal tone, "Yes, I will."

"Please place your thumb on the disk," the computer voice instructed. Pike complied. "Your account has been debited two hundred credits for viewing the Starline Premium Channel. Thank you for your patronage."

Two hundred His eyebrows crept up even higher. He was going to have to pay it; there was no way that he could justify that expense to Starfleet Command. Ever.

The voice went on. "The double feature will begin in ten minutes. May we provide you with some live entertainment until then?"

"Uh, no," Pike gulped. "Just be sure my dinner gets here before the feature starts."

"Of course," the computer responded as a knock sounded on the door.

Pike leaped to the door, opening it barely wide enough to let the crew member wheel the cart in. "Thanks," he said, dropping a few credit chips in the eager hands.

Locking the door, he got himself comfortable, sampling the spicy Tellarite cuisine and the, by comparison, bland fare from Andor, and the simple vegetables from Vulcan. There were also his favorite foods from Earth and some variations from Centaurus.

Suddenly the channel crackled back to life. He stared up at the opening credits, chewing on some of the food. The food was quickly forgotten as the opening credits, complete with action, filled the screen. Pike found himself staring wide-eyed at the gyrations on the screen. His eyes got even wider, much to his surprise, as the action continued in ways he couldn't remember fathoming, even as a teenager whose hormones were constantly in overdrive.

As he continued to watch, a feeling of rage began to build in him. First at himself for indulging in such prurient material, and then at Ariel for doing it. She was most definitely enjoying everything the males were doing to her. And they were doing a lot to her, using her in every way imaginable, and some he had never imagined.

Then the rage gave way to puzzlement. How could such a beautiful, smart girl do such things? he wondered. She certainly didn't need the work--her father was one of the richest men in the universe, where wealth was still counted, that is; which was a lot of places.

As the first feature finally finished and the second one started, he found himself leaning back in the chair, a pensive expression on his face as he remembered the nights and days they had spent together on his last shore leave. She had been so loving, so giving of herself. Now he wondered if it had all been an act for him, the lonely starship captain on shore leave. It hadn't seemed like she had been acting at the time.

But now

She didn't seem to be acting on the screen either.

And those males, to be honest and blunt, had a lot more going for them physically and performance-wise, than he did. Why, he wondered sadly, as he watched the blonde nymph in the prison scene being "forced" to perform for the amusement of the guards with some of the male non-Human prisoners as "punishment" for some wrong she had committed, was she spending time with him when she had so much more to choose from?

Ariel and he were going to be doing a lot more than getting reacquainted, he decided as the trio of males finished using her and she was grabbed by the guards to hold her as a B'rythian lumbered into the room and took his position behind her. The men cheered as the B'rythian slid into her, and began to thrust slowly at first, then with more speed, encouraged by the guards and the other prisoners.

A lot more.

Like talk.

Day 4
The Main Bar
Hotel Royale
Chrysalis

Commodore Wentworth was sitting at the bar of the Hotel Royale, a shot glass in front of him. He stared into it, oblivious of everything else around him. He wasn't drunk, not yet anyway. But he was working on it. Unlike Admiral Stoddard, however, he did his drinking in private, or as close to private as he could manage. And he always made sure that he was able to leave the public places under his own power.

He was drinking to forget, of course. Forget the last year of his life when his career had suddenly stalled, gotten off track. When he'd allowed that pompous ass of a councilman convince him that sacrificing the Hood for the good of the Federation was the right thing to do. That the loss would be acceptable.

Acceptable, hell! He tossed back the glass and stared up, surprised to find a person standing next to him.

"This seat taken?"

Wentworth stared up at the form standing next to him, his eyes taking a few minutes to focus. His blood went cold as he finally recognized the Starfleet officer who was standing next to the empty chair. Tall, well-muscled, long straight black hair, tied back in a pony-tail with a rawhide thong, John "Jack" Raintree was looking a lot healthier than the last time they'd met. Raintree's gray eyes locked his, but only for a moment.

"N-no." Wentworth shook his head slowly.

Raintree was the last person he wanted to see. He remembered the stony-faced man, lying on the biobed on the Enterprise, pushing the medals away, refusing to see things the way they were. It didn't help that Pike had practically thrown him and the councilman off the ship as well.

"Good." Raintree sat down in the empty chair, his face still stony, his tone still neutral. "Bartender, double brandy."

The barkeep nodded and moved down, taking more orders. Wentworth returned his glance to his glass, now empty. Without looking up, he signaled the bartender for a refill. The silence with the droning of the conversations in the background, no doubt about the murder of the celebrated Thelans, was overpowering.

Finally, "Been a while, Commodore," Raintree said softly as the bartender placed their drinks in front of them.

"Yes, it has," Wentworth said after the barkeep moved on. A long pause, then, "Congratulations on your new ship, Captain. You deserve her."

"Thank you, Commodore," Raintree responded, sipping his brandy. "Pity about my old ship, though, isn't it?"

Wentworth felt his jaw tighten, and his fist clenched tightly around the glass. "Damn it," he finally exploded softly. "It wasn't my idea, Jack. I just followed orders, the same as you do. I got orders to use the Hood as a decoy. I didn't like them. I tried to convince the Councilor that it wasn't the best plan, that there had to be a better way, but I was overruled. So I followed my orders. And I gave you yours. I'm sorry about the crew, about the Hood. Damn it, Jack, I served on a starship before. I know, I understand what you went through, having to destroy your ship, seeing your crew die. But it was necessary. Necessary for the safety..." He took a deep breath. "But you have to know, it was not my idea. It was Derek Corman's. And you may not think I haven't lost sleep over that incident, but you'd be wrong. Dead wrong."

"Save it," Raintree snapped. "You don't know; you can't know. You were never in command of a ship, and you never had one blown out from under you. You never heard the cries of your crew as the ship was opened up to the vacuum of space. And you sure as hell never heard your crewmen scream in agony as they were boiled alive..." He stopped, his face ashen. "And you never watched your female crew member raped and sodomized by an entire band of Orion pirates. Repeatedly."

Wentworth's face paled. He hadn't read the detailed report that Raintree had filed, not wanting to know the facts.

"It wasn't my finest hour, Jack." Wentworth's head dipped back down, staring back at his drink. "It haunts me. It still haunts me."

Raintree looked at the commodore, noting the defeated, broken man staring numbly at the drink in front of him. He shook his head and swallowed his brandy. "I believe you," he finally said. "But I don't think it haunts you as much as it haunts me."

Wentworth stared at his glass as he felt the Amerind leave the room. He caught the eye of the barkeep. "Set 'em up, Milo," he said. "And don't stop until I do."

Day 4
A Farm on the Outskirts of Gracchos
Xantharus

Aleta stopped pitching the hay onto the mound and stared out into the farmyard, blinking at the bright red sun as it glared back into her eyes from dirt. She'd been working hard these past three months, harder than she had ever worked in her life.

And she had never been happier.

Aleta had been born in the city of Gracchos the youngest child and only daughter of a small merchant. From her earliest years, she had known that her worth was only in her femaleness. She learned exactly what that worth was when she changed from a girl-child to a woman-child and found her virginity bartered away to pay for some of her father's debts. The old, fat, sweaty man had torn her shift from her body, tossed her on the nearest table and taken her in front of her father, just to be sure that she was a virgin before he canceled the larger portion of the debts owed him; then, still wheezing from his exertions and oblivious to her tears of pain, had bartered for her services for a year to cancel the rest of the debt.

From that day on, she had learned to serve the men who held her father's debts, to hide her feelings as they panted over her and thrust into her, to learn new ways to perform for her masters, to be sure that the males were sated with her body and her performances, or suffer the consequences.

When her father died, some years later, he was at least debt-free, due almost entirely to her labors. That, at least, kept her from being sold into slavery. He hadn't provided for her welfare, though, which guaranteed her little prospects for marriage unless her brothers came up with a dowry. That was unlikely since her brothers, she knew were much like her father. Rather than spend the rest of her life keeping her male relatives debt-free, she had struck out on her own, only to find that females had little chance to earn an honest living, except in the brothels.

She finally settled on a brothel with a master that at least seemed to care for his staff's well-being, and had signed a working contract with the man. Thus began her career as a prostitute. The work was no different than she had been doing since the tender age of eleven. And at least the money she earned from her labors would be hers alone.

It had been chance that her first customer had been a tall, dark-haired man who just happened to be a member of the Director's staff. He'd chosen her over all the other females in the brothel. Once in her chambers he'd undressed her, gently, and then proceeded to have sex with her, and for the first time in her life, she had felt sexual pleasure. He'd stayed with her the entire night, teaching her about receiving pleasure as well as giving pleasure, making her beg for more until she could no longer respond.

When he'd left her room the next morning, he'd gone to the brothel master and had the man void her contract, then had propositioned her come with him, intimating that she would be his mistress, the first in his harem. Seeing that she no longer had a job, and that he seemed to care for her, giving and well as receiving sexual pleasure, she'd agreed.

She didn't know that he had been taken with her creamy complexion and raven hair, her large emerald eyes in her oval face. She didn't know that he had worked hard to seduce her, make her eager to join him when he forced the brothel master to rip up her contract.

She didn't know that his true nature was totally opposite from what he had shown her that night. She didn't know that he wanted her as his slave, to give him pleasure in a variety of ways, some of which she had already learned at an early age, some of which she had never dreamed of. She didn't know that he did not enjoy sex unless he first brutalized the female. She didn't know that he often enjoyed orgies with his friends, and she was expected to please them all at the same time or continue to serve them until she did.

She didn't know, but she soon learned.

Once in his rooms, she met the man's true nature.

He'd ripped her clothes from her body, beat her soundly, then had taken her without foreplay. When he'd finished, he forced her to take him orally until he was sated, then bring him back to a state of readiness. Still gagging from his use of her, she was slammed onto the table where he raped her yet again. Then he'd gone to work, leaving her bleeding and crying, draped over the table, suggesting as he left, that she get used to it, for there was no one on the planet who would help her.

It had taken her a week to finally find the means to escape from his rooms. She had endured his beatings and his use of her during that time, fearful that each time he took her he would finally kill her before he was finished with her. She had left, wearing only a cloak over her abused body. She knew that her chances for true escape were next to nil; any who dared to help her would be sure to face the wrath of the Director's right-hand man. If any would even dare to help her. She could but hope that somehow, she would die in the escape.

And fate had once again stepped in. When she'd stumbled, running over the cobbled roads in her bare feet, she'd been caught by the strong arms of a young sun-darkened man with the first stubble of beard growth on his strong square face. He'd noticed that she had nothing on under the cloak, and various bruises on her body. After checking her body to make sure that she was not wearing the brand of a slave, or the bands of a wife, he'd offered her his help. He took her to his farm, tended her until she was better, and then made her his wife.

Aleta's eyes studied the horizon until she found what she sought, the form of her husband, Antare, herding the female Borzans, bovine-type animals, to the pen where the stud was eagerly awaiting them. In the fall, they'd have calves to sell. Enough to meet the next tax payment.

Antare was the last of a dying breed. He was an independent business man, not aligned with the Consortium. His farm was one of the last on the planet not owned by the Consortium. It had belonged to his family for ten generations. It would not be that way for much longer, they both knew. Sooner or later the Consortium always got what they wanted, and they wanted his farm.

But, for now, it was his. He grew whatever he could, animal or plant, to eke out a living on the homestead, working hard to get water to the desert land so that it would sustain life for just a little while longer.

His plan was to last one more year. Then he was going to sell out and take Aleta and leave Xantharus. He hadn't told her where he would go after that; perhaps they would leave the Barrier Alliance and enter Federation space, find a planet where he could stake a claim and start a new farm and a family.

Aleta returned to her work. This was her job, to stack the feed and keep the barn clean; not glamorous by any stretch of the imagination, but needed so that Antare could work in the field. She was important to him, and not just in the bed.

Not that he ignored her, she smiled tenderly. Hardly. He was a demanding lover, expecting much from her, and giving as much and more than he demanded.

She felt, rather than saw, Antare enter the relatively cool barn, seeking temporary relief from the red sun that burned down without mercy. His body was covered with sweat, causing his vest and pants to cling to his body, outlining his form, making her ache with longing. Her body was also sweat-soaked, forcing her shift to stick to her body as well. She let her eyes drift to him, arching her body suggestively as she rested against the wall. She knew he was watching her; he rarely didn't watch her.

"Aleta," Antare's baritone voice sounded almost scolding. "I have work to finish before noon. There is no time for that now."

"There is time," she smiled, sauntering toward him.

She started kissing him demandingly. Antare tried to remain stoic, but soon he was returning her kiss with equal ardor. Their hands were exploring each other hungrily, removing the clothing from each other.

Suddenly he lifted her up and settled her on his engorged organ. She moaned in pleasure and wrapped her legs around his waist, responding to each savage thrust with one as savage of her own. She felt the rough barn wall against her back as Antare shoved her against it, using it to support both of them as they sought release and pleasure from each other.

The release was soon in coming. They sagged against the wall, her legs and arms still wrapped tightly around her husband, his head still buried in her chest.

The applause at the door startled them both. Antare turned his head and stared in shock at the contingent of Orion operatives and pirates standing at the barn's door. He felt Aleta stiffen in his arms.

One of the operatives stepped forward. He was tall, with dark curly hair, dressed in the finery of a noble. Haldar, the Director's former ward and now his first henchman. It had been rumored that as a young teen he had killed a half a dozen larger youths in a back alley with his bare hands when they had tried to bully the orphan into joining their gang. It was said that he had used the Director's own cloak to wipe the blood from his hands before he'd clasped the man's hand in agreement to becoming the man's ward.

Haldar continued to clap as he took another step toward them. "Quite a performance, Aleta. Hello, my dear."

"H-Haldar," Aleta's voice was hushed, terror in her tone. She moved from her husband's arms reaching for her shift.

"Uh-uh," Haldar's arm shot out, grabbing her by her hair, pulling her toward him with one arm while he pulled out a blaster from his waist band, pointing it at Antare, stopping him from coming to her rescue. "No, no, Aleta. Once loveliness is exposed, it should never be covered again. Didn't I teach you that often enough, my dear?"

Aleta shuddered as he lowered his head to hers, forcing her to endure his kiss, trying to avoid his lips and tongue. "You never protested before," he said, pulling her head back, compelling her to stare up into his dark, cold eyes.

"Let my wife go!" Antare snarled as he lunged at the killer.

Four pirates appeared at Haldar's side and seized the attacking man before he could take a second step. Haldar stepped toward the farmer, dragging Aleta with him, his fingers still entangled in her silky hair. He glared at the farmer, near his height, but much broader of shoulder. The naked hatred in his black eyes seared Antare as his blaster was slammed into the farmer's abdomen.

As Antare folded, held only by the pirates that still held his arms, Haldar put the blaster back in his waist band, then snatched Antare's hair and pulled his head back up. He let his gaze wander down the man's form to his groin, to the still partly-erect member.

"You left me for this?" he snickered, pointing at the man's large organ. His hand doubled in a fist and slammed up behind his scrotum. As Antare's color grew ashen and he doubled over, unable to clutch his member, Haldar continued, "This little bit of flesh? Was I too much for you, then, dearest? Is that why you felt you had to leave?"

"P-please Haldar, just leave us alone," Aleta whimpered.

"I would really like to, Aleta," Haldar sighed. The sigh was almost menacing. He felt Aleta shudder at the sigh and he smiled a thin vicious smile. "I really would. Believe it or not, my dear, there is another who has taken your place. Unfortunately," he turned back to Antare, "this is not a personal call. I am here on business."

"Business?" Antare gasped, still sagged between his captors.

"Business," Haldar repeated. "Taxes."

"I've paid the taxes for this quarter," Antare protested weakly. "All twenty-eight thousand drekons. It's all we can afford."

"Really?" Haldar's eyebrow arched wickedly. "Pity. You won't be able to afford the new rate then. Retroactive. You now owe twenty-five billion drekons."

"Twenty-five..." Antare stared mutely up at Haldar.

"You still owe over twenty-four billion drekons." Haldar smirked at the two of them as the farmer and his wife paled in shock.

"You can't be serious!" Antare stammered. "No one can afford that tax. No one!"

"I know," Haldar's smile grew cruel. "That's the general idea, Farmer. The only alternative is execution." He snapped his fingers suddenly, then jerked his thumb toward the door. "Take him outside now. Crucify him."

Aleta screamed, trying to pull away from Haldar as the pirates dragged the struggling man out of the barn. Haldar tightened his hold on her, pulling her back to his body. Aleta twisted in his grasp and stared up into his stony face. "Please don't kill him, Haldar! Please!" Tears slid down her cheek. "Please, Haldar, I-I'll do anything you ask. Anything."

Haldar's stony expression cracked, a vicious smile replacing the impassive expression. "Really?" he murmured. "Xeron," he barked. "Hold that order. Take him out. But don't kill him. Yet. And close the door. I want privacy."

As the door closed behind the sniggering pirates, Haldar let his cloak drop to the hay-covered floor in a corner. Soon his silken vest and shirt joined the cloak. Finally his pants topped the heap. Aleta stayed where he had left her, knowing full well that to move before he commanded her could cause the death of her husband, shaking as she noted that Haldar was fully erect.

He walked over to her. "You were saying," he murmured as he lowered his head to hers.

He forced her to receive his brutal kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth viciously, gagging her, then demanding she explore his mouth with her tongue, biting it fiercely, pleased with the taste of her blood in his mouth. As he kissed her, his hands examined her body, pinching soft flesh cruelly, kneading soft areas of her body roughly, entering her private parts savagely. Aleta closed her eyes to the face over hers, willing her body to respond even as she divorced herself from her body, becoming impassive to his touch, reminding herself that if she could endure such treatment for seven long years for her father, who never cared for her except as a means to reduce his debts; she could endure this and more for the man who loved her.

"Now, bitch," Haldar rasped, his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to her knees in front of him. "Now!"

Aleta obediently opened her mouth and let him thrust his penis down her throat. She felt his hands move from her shoulders to behind her head, forcing her face closer to his groin as his hips thrust, driving himself deeper down her throat. Keeping her eyes closed, she reminded herself to let him set the pace, let him tell her when she was to respond, when she was to move.

Haldar pulled her head even closer to his groin, smiling when he felt her begin to resist, then comply to his demands. She knew her place, all right: the ever-obedient, ever-serving female. He settled into a forceful rhythm, noting that she was having to repeatedly stop herself from gagging. He closed his eyes, luxuriating in the pleasure he was feeling at controlling her body once again. Finally he could contain himself no longer.

Aleta felt his muscles bunch as he climaxed. Before she could respond, he pulled himself from her mouth and his giant hand slapped her face hard, causing her teeth to cut the inside of her mouth, sending her spilling to the ground. Flecks of blood with his semen stained her face and splashed the hay around her.

Aleta looked up at Haldar, noting his dark expression as he bent down and pulled her back to her knees by her hair. The tears were streaming down her face, but she held back the cries. He smiled at her, sending shudders down her spine. His hands once more behind her head, forced her face into his crotch as he commanded, "Now, bitch, once more. Make me hard again!"

Obediently she took the semi-flaccid member in her mouth and used her skills to make him erect again. When he was once again rigid, he pulled himself from her mouth, and slapped her to the ground.

She stayed on the ground where she'd fallen, waiting his next move. He stepped behind her, forcing her chest and head down into the hay on the hard plank floor and pulling her hips up in the air. She bit her lip as his penis rammed its way deep into her vagina. She let the tears stream down her face now without check, holding back only the sobs as he continued to ram her mercilessly.

The sun moved slowly outside reaching its zenith causing the enclosed barn to get stiflingly warm, and still he persisted. Moans of pain escaped from her lips, most of them muffled by the hay under her. A few leaked out, heard by Haldar. She felt him shake with laughter when he heard them, pausing in his use of her for a brief time before he continued. Finally, when she felt she could no longer endure another thrust, she felt him climax, holding her hips close to his until he was completed. Then he released her body, letting it fall to the hay-covered floor, standing over her shaking form, his feet wide apart, his fists on his hips.

Aleta looked up at the giant executioner, tears flooding her eyes. The sobs were silent, barely audible. Though he had always been brutal to her, he had never taken quite this long to sate himself with her. And he was pleased with himself, she noted.

Still, if it had saved Antare's life, she thought grimly, it had been worth it.

He stared down at her, lifting his wrist with his communicator. With his other hand he tapped a button, then uttered a single word. "Resume."

A scream and the sound of a hammer thudding on steel aroused Aleta from her near stuporous state. "No! You promised!"

He sneered. "I did no such thing, bitch. You swore to do anything. I did not swear to save his life. Just to hold his execution."

"No!" Aleta pulled herself to her feet and launched her body at his, fists flaying wildly, striking him but causing little damage.

A single fist to her stomach dropped her to her knees. He grabbed her by her hair, dragging her to a small wooden table. Flinging her onto it, he pinned her body to it with his knees, his arm grabbing one of hers forcing it up at an awkward angle.

"Now, bitch, I think I shall explore uncharted territory," he snickered as he spread her flesh of her buttocks with his free hand.

Before she could react, his swollen, erect member was jammed fully into her rectum, forcing a scream of pain from her lips as she felt tender flesh rip and tear. He paused, staring down at the crying figure under him. He chuckled cruelly as he withdrew, then rammed himself into her again, forcing another scream of pain from the girl under him as her sphincter tore with an audible 'crack.'

"What?" He bent over her, bringing his mouth close to her ear, forcing himself even deeper into her. "You mean that this was virgin territory? If I had known, I would have entered it sooner. Much sooner."

He continued to thrust into her torn, tortured orifice, timing his thrusts to coincide with the hammer blows from outside the barn, pausing when the hammering stopped, resuming when the hammers began to fall on the stakes again. Aleta, unable to restrain herself any longer, sobbed, pleading for him to finish, to be done with her, which only made his thrusts harder, and slower. She could feel a wet stickiness trickling down her legs. Semen from the rape and sodomy, no doubt, but also, she realized, her own blood from the forced entry.

A lot of it.

Finally she felt his muscles bunch and he climaxed, forcing her arm between her shoulder blades. The snap of the bone was accompanied by the scream of pain both from inside and outside the barn and his roar of triumph. Finished with the female beneath him, he withdrew, and still gripping her by her broken arm, tossed her body to the ground.

Stepping over her, he walked to a bucket of water and proceeded to clean her blood and his own semen from his body. Then he walked over to where his clothes were on ground, and redressed himself. Once he was finished he walked to where Aleta was beginning to stir.

He stared down at her blood- and semen-spattered legs and buttocks, his bloodthirsty smile giving him a feral appearance. He reached down and pulled the hapless female to her feet by her black hair, now tangled and snarled and filthy.

He propelled her out of the barn to the yard where an X-shaped cross was now settled in the ground. Nailed to it was Antare, blood streaming down his arms and over his feet to the ground below. Aleta stared up at Antare, his head drooping on his chest, his eyes dull, nearly lifeless. She sobbed hysterically. All her sacrifice for naught. Her beloved husband was dead.

Then her dulled glance spied another cross on the ground. Her hysteria doubled. "No! No!" she screamed, attempting to pull away from Haldar. "NO!"

His grip on her locks tightened and he pulled her back toward him. "I had no intention of letting either of you live, bitch," he snarled into her face. "He has opposed the Consortium for far too long. And you," his face was now inches from hers, his hatred evident in his dark eyes, "you had to pay for leaving before I permitted it. No one leaves me until I permit it."

"P-please Haldar," she whimpered. She feared Haldar, his treatment of her; but she feared death more. "Please. I'll do whatever you want. Please! Don't kill me!"

"You shouldn't have left me for the farmer, bitch," Haldar sneered at her, grabbing her broken arm and twisting it savagely.

Aleta screamed then passed out, becoming limp in Haldar's grasp. He tossed her to the ground, then let the pirates help spread her naked form onto the wooden bars. Obediently they waited until she had regained consciousness before they pulled her limbs wide and tied them to the wooden beams. She screamed again as they stretched her limbs, and Haldar personally forced her broken arm to conform to the contour of the cross arm before they were bound by rough rope to the unfinished wood.

Then he disappeared, only to reappear with some rust-covered nails and a mallet. He put the tip of the nail onto the palm of her hand and let the mallet fall on the nail head. Aleta cried in agony as the dull metal tore into the callused flesh of her palm. He paused as she continued to cry.

"If only you'd have stayed with me, Aleta," he shook his head, almost sadly. "You could have had the universe. And you would have been one of the most envied females on Xantharus. First as my female, then, perhaps as the Director's. If only..." He let the mallet fall again on the nail forcing it deeper into her palm eliciting another scream of pain. "If only... But now, you will join your husband."

A long time later Haldar let the mallet fall one last time. The last nail was finally secured into the wood through her flesh. Aleta was limp on the cross, her head lolling from side to side. She was no longer aware of anything but the pain coursing through her entire body. It wouldn't take long for her to die, he realized.

Haldar stood and stared down at the once-beautiful female. He was about to give the order to raise the cross and set it next to Antare's, when he noticed the men were staring longingly at Aleta's body, especially her exposed pelvic region, enhanced by her position on the wooden bars. He chuckled to himself. It had been a long time since they had been allowed to enjoy themselves with a female prisoner, he realized. He should have let them enjoy themselves with her once he was done with her. That would have truly added to the bitch's suffering. Well, he wasn't going to tear her from the cross now; they'd never get her back on it alive.

Smiling broadly at his pirates, he waved an inviting hand at the still form on the cross. "Enjoy!" he commanded. "Go ahead, enjoy her. Between her husband and me, she's well primed for the lot of you. Enjoy her until you are all sated."

"No!" A croak sounded from the cross above them as the pirates began to strip their pants off. "No! You can't!"

Haldar stared up at Antare, noting the man was not as far gone as he had believed. Damned farmer had stamina, that was certain. Grabbing Xeron, he held up a hand, halting the men in their tracks. "First, Xeron, geld that creature. Then remove his manhood. Cauterize the wound with your disruptor so he doesn't bleed to death...yet."

"As you wish, Lord Haldar," Xeron nodded, a murderous smile on his face as he pulled a large knife from his sash.

"And when you are finished, you may be the first to sample his wife. Be sure the farmer sees you entertaining yourself with the bitch. See that he sees all of the men sampling his wife," Haldar commanded. "Just be sure she still lives when you and the others finish with her. Then set her next to her husband, back to back."

"As you wish," Xeron smiled wolfishly.

"Then post a sign at the border of the farm: 'This property now belongs to the Consortium.' Burn the buildings, the crops, the animals. I want nothing of theirs to remain."

"Yes, Lord Haldar."

"And post another sign," Haldar crossed his arms. "'The bodies will remain on the cross until the flesh falls from the bones. Any who tries to bury them will face the same fate.'" He frowned. "Oh, and decapitate them when they are dead. Place the heads in stasis cubes and bring them back to the city. Their heads belong to the Director."

"Yes, Lord Haldar," Xeron bowed, then walked over to the cross, his knife glittering in the late afternoon sun.

Haldar walked back to his ground car. A single, falsetto scream from Antare rent the air. Haldar smiled as the scream faded. Soon he heard the shouts of the men and a the soprano screams of agony from Aleta as they used her.

His smiled widened as he climbed into his car.

"Bitch."

Day 5
The Cord Mansion
Chrysalis

Ariel Cord sat down in front of a large comfortable chair on a huge pillow, the huge bucket of popcorn and tray full of drinks, alcoholic and otherwise, between her and her two friends from med school. It was a mid-term break, the weekend, and she and her two classmates had vowed to enjoy every last minute of it. For the next two days, she and they would think of only fun.

And she had the means to insure that.

Her father, Aaron Cord was off-planet attending to some business venture or other, leaving her the full run of the house. Not that his being there would have curtailed her actions any. It never had while she had been growing up.

Gina Carrera, a small, petite Latin girl from Earth and Kala, an Andorian with neon blue skin, pure white hair and small antenna on the top of her head were sitting on pillows around her, munching on the popcorn and sampling the potables. Both were classmates of Ariel's, sharing in the trials and triumphs of med school.

"Ready?" Ariel asked as she tapped a button on the chair arm behind her head. the room darkened and the holovid came to life.

Gina 's dark eyes widened as she stared at the porno flick playing out in front of her. "Ariel, I can't believe that you do this!" she gasped. "I mean, with med school and all..."

"Oh, Gina," Ariel chuckled, "it's not that difficult. All the films are made here on Chrysalis, so I don't have to travel far. And I do them on the weekends and during breaks. It relieves the stress of med school, that's for sure."

"Yeah, but what does the Board say about your activities?"

"Well, I don't do it during school hours, and I don't do it on school grounds," Ariel shrugged. "And I didn't sign any contract saying I wouldn't do them while I was in school, and my grades aren't suffering, so I doubt they could say much except denounce my moral character, which they do anyway. Besides, this is Chrysalis and I'm a Cord; amoral behavior is expected."

Kala was studying the action of the Andorian male intently as Ariel let his organ slide down her throat. "That is really you. Not a double or an android."

"They haven't made an android that can double as a Human, or any other species," Ariel snorted. "And as far as a body double, I don't need one. I can do my own scenes. All my own scenes."

"You do have the body," Gina agreed. "Which is more than I can say for mine." She stared pointedly at her small breasts and narrow hips.

"Now Gina," Ariel scolded her. "You have a great body."

"Not as great as yours," she countered, staring openly at Ariel's well-endowed chest and round hips.

"Depends," Ariel said. "I have one hell of a body," she admitted, "but not every man in the universe is taken with it. There are those that like petite females, less endowed than I am. And not every man in the universe wants a blonde in their bed. I know for a fact that Reed, the guy under me, would much rather have a brunette than a blonde any day of the week. And he says he'd prefer not to be suffocated while he's having sex."

"Sure doesn't look like he's hating what he's doing," Gina snorted.

"He's a damned good actor," Ariel chuckled. "And as for these--" She cupped her huge breasts with her hands. "--Reed says anything more than a handful is wasted!"

"Yeah. Right." Gina snorted again.

"Now Vasha, the Andorian, " Ariel went on, "will take anything female. Any way."

Kala stared at her Human friend. "Anything female?"

"Anything," Ariel nodded.

"And his family doesn't mind?" Kala frowned.

"I hear they divorced him," Ariel shrugged. "He had to pay some penalty or other to get out of the marriage. He just borrowed the money from Tony Balent and went on to the next film."

"A most unusual Andorian," Kala commented.

"But, oh, what a guy," Ariel sighed longingly, causing the females to giggle.

They quieted as the four people on the screen continued with their orgy, climaxing together, bringing a yelp from Gina. Kala exhaled loudly. Ariel snickered as she took another handful of popcorn from the bucket. Gina blushed, and Kala's skin turned to a darker shade of blue as her antennae extended.

"So, you liked that one?" Ariel asked, tapping the button on the chair.

"Well..." Gina began, fidgeting a little.

She was, Ariel knew, a bit old-fashioned in her tastes, preferring her men one at a time. Kala, being Andorian, was used to multiples during a sex act; having multiple marriage partners made that almost a foregone conclusion.

"Perhaps you'll like this one better," Ariel said as the next feature started.

The two classmates watched as Ariel, portraying a penniless female on a border planet, was forced to sell herself to earn a living. The man, her first customer, a tall slender dark-haired Human had taken her to his hotel room, treating her in a superior manner. She was, after all, a working girl, there for his pleasure; her feelings were not to be considered. Before long, she was stripped and flung onto the bed. He leaned over her, fondling her from head to foot using his hands masterfully and his mouth hungrily. She whimpered in shame as he lingered over her pubis and around her breasts. Gradually her tears of humiliation changed to cries of ecstasy as she writhed sensually, begging for him to take her.

Then the man was tearing off his clothes, being aided by the aroused Ariel.

Gina stared, her eyes wider than ever. "That can't be real," she finally gasped. "I mean, no Human is that..."

"He is," Ariel said. "That's Long Tom Curtis. Used to be a body double until Tony, the director, got tired of whatever his name was being unable to perform."

"'Long Tom' Curtis?" Kala raised a white eyebrow.

"Yep," Ariel nodded, then added drolly, "and he didn't get that name because of his height. 'Long Tom' was a nickname for a type of cannon used in the early 20th century. A really big cannon."

"Unreal," Gina whispered hoarsely. "Totally unreal."

"Oh, believe me, it's very real. Every last inch of it," Ariel giggled.

The two classmates stared, barely blinking as the orgy progressed to its natural conclusion.

As the ending credits began to roll, Ariel tapped the button on her chair and brought the lights up. "Well, what do you think?"

"I think we need to find some guys. Fast." Gina was trembling; her hand was between her legs, and she blushed when she realized Ariel had noticed.

"Yes," Kala agreed, her small antennae curling tightly close to her scalp. "Extremely fast."

Ariel smiled. "Well, you know, a couple of those guys are in town," she said.

"You're kidding," Gina gasped. "Here?"

"Hm-hmm." Ariel nodded. "Tom is just finishing up one film, and getting ready to start another one. Wanna meet him? See just how real he is?"

"You wouldn't." Gina stared at her friend in shock. "You wouldn't dare."

"That was a mistake, Gina," Ariel shook her head gravely as she tapped the code for Hotel Sybaron into the Bell Comm unit. Several seconds passed and then Tom Curtis' face filled the screen. "Hi, Tom. How's it going?"

"Hi Ari," Tom grinned at his frequent co-star. "Just finished the final scene. Carol ain't bad, but she sure ain't you."

Ariel blushed at the praise, chuckling at Tom's critique of his co-star. "Anyone else in town? Any of the guys, I mean."

"Well, Reed's here. And Vasha," Tom answered. "Why? What's up?"

"Well, I was wondering how you and the others would like to come out to the mansion for a private party," Ariel said.

"Sounds great!" Tom's face lit up. "This place has been an absolute prison since that Andorian scientist got himself offed. How soon?"

"I can have a cab there for you in, say, half an hour," Ariel said.

"Mm," Tom frowned briefly. "Better make it forty-five minutes, Ari. Reed and Vasha are still in make-up."

"Forty-five minutes," Ariel nodded. "See you then." She disconnected and quickly called the taxi service.

"Make-up?" Kala stared at Ariel. "You have got to be joking."

"No," Ariel shook her head. "Make-up. On every exposed part of the body. Now, what do you say we get a few rooms ready for use."

"Rooms?"

"The guest bedrooms are in the East Wing," Ariel responded. "Unless you want to use this room?"

"Oh, those rooms," Gina nodded.

"So tell me, Gina," Ariel grinned wickedly, "which one you want, Tom or Reed or Vasha?"

Day 5
The Office of the Director of the
Barrier Alliance Consortium
Xantharus

The Director looked up from the screen, sliding the controls to darken it as Haldar sauntered into his office. He noted the smug expression on the younger man's features.

"The foreclosure?"

"Completed," Haldar answered as he sat down across from his mentor, "without a problem."

"And your personal business?" the Director asked solicitously.

"Also completed," Haldar let a vicious smile crease his face. "She suffered to the end."

The Director nodded at his protégé. "Good. Your new female knows of Aleta's fate?"

"Of course," Haldar grinned. "She will not be attempting anything but pleasing me."

"Good." The Director swung the screen toward Haldar. "I have an assignment for you."

He slid the controls again, letting the picture fill the screen. The black-haired Human female's face was looking at the camera, unaware of its presence. Haldar studied her face closely, noting the dark blue eyes and the coal black hair, the young features and the comely face. Haldar felt his hormones begin to respond to her youthful beauty, wondering if the Director had selected her for his harem. His tastes varied, Haldar knew, and changed with the seasons. This one, if selected for his harem, would last perhaps a full year, unless she was fragile, as most Human females were. And if she should survive the Director's ministrations, he might pass her to him for a service done. Haldar had never seriously thought of starting his own harem, but he now had the means to do so. And the desire as well.

"This female," the Director said coldly, "murdered Doctor Thelans on Chrysalis. She has cheated me of his services." Haldar sighed almost regretfully. Her fate was sealed. The question was the means. "I want her head, Haldar. She's still on Chrysalis. Go there; find her and kill her, quickly and cleanly, and bring me her head. She should suffer for her crime, but if you kidnap her and bring her here for torture, the Humans will only come after her. I cannot afford a battle over a female."

"I understand, lord," Haldar nodded.

"I believe she will be on Chrysalis for a while longer," the Director continued as he tapped a button to allow information to scroll over the frozen picture. "Long enough for you to get there and kill her."

"Yes, lord." Haldar nodded as he read the script on the screen.

The intercom beeped. "Yes?" The Director scowled at the offending instrument.

"Lord, I have completed interrogating the Starfleet spy."

Marina's face filled the forward screen. She was a young Orion female, her green skin a bit darker than Haldar's, her black hair cut short, curling around her face like a halo. Her black eyes were sparkling in excitement. Haldar felt his pulse quickening, as it always did when he saw her after she had finished a torturing session.

She was indeed a beautiful female, Haldar knew, but she was not interested in sex. That was indeed a pity, Haldar sighed softly. She was a most desirable creature, and he often dreamed of taking her, forcing her to submit to his needs. He had heard she was only able to couple if she was brutalized by the male before the act was performed. Which would be no problem, since he enjoyed brutalizing his females before he took them.

He also heard that she had come to the Director's attention by killing her brother by slow torture when he tried to sell her in marriage to a merchant who had desired her young body in return for a lucrative partnership arrangement.

No, Marina was no ordinary female. Her pleasure was solely derived from torturing the victims of the Director's.

She was wearing a smock that was spattered with rust-colored spots. A small compuclipboard was in her hand, and she referred to it periodically. In the background was a headless, mutilated body spread-eagled. There were hooks from the ceiling impaled into the heels, holding the body from the ceiling upside-down, and two other hooks impaled into the palms of the hands, pulling those limbs out from the torso. Though the skin was pale green, the blood that dripped from the neck was dark red. The corpse might have been female, but it was too mangled to be certain.

"Proceed," the Director commanded.

"The female was called Megan Foster, a Terran female with the rank of lieutenant, junior grade, in Starfleet," Marina read from her compuclipboard. "As you know, she was disguised to look like an Orion and worked in a brothel in the Centa district. No, the brothel master didn't know her true identity," Marina anticipated his next question. "He is a honest brothel master, and he does pay you well. He has already paid a penalty fee for allowing himself to be used by the Federation against you." She leaned back in her chair, looking at the severed head on the bench by her. "She had some interesting information for us. About the Starfleet network that is here on Xantharus. Once I was finished with her, she just couldn't stop talking," Marina chuckled. "I have one piece of news that will really interest you, lord."

"What?" the Director leaned forward.

"Shy'na Purim will be coming back to Xantharus as the commander of the Starfleet Intelligence network."

"Shy'na Purim!" The Director's eyes narrowed dangerously. "That traitorous bitch is returning to Xantharus?!"

"Yes, and soon." Marina smiled beatifically at her master.

"That bitch managed to escape me once before, Haldar," the Director looked at his protégé. "She must not escape me again."

"I also have the names of about two dozen operatives here on the planet," Marina went on, waving the compuclipboard in her hand.

"That many?" The Director's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I find it hard to believe they've stayed under cover as long as they have."

"They haven't," Marina shook her head. "These are newer agents." She flashed a smile at Haldar, causing his pulse to quicken. "Haldar's sweeps have been most effective. Starfleet is just most tenacious to keep a network of agents here on the planet."

"Send the list to me, Marina," Haldar ordered. "I'll find these pests and take care of them."

"No, Haldar," the Director shook his head, "I need you more on Chrysalis. Xeron can handle this little problem for me." He turned to Marina. "This has all been verified by the truth serum, hasn't it?" he demanded.

"Of course!" Marina answered, a hurt tone in her voice. "I always check the information from torture with the serum."

"Lord, you don't really need a torturer," Haldar said. "The truth serum always gives us the answers we need."

"Oh, but Haldar, if all they feared was the serum, there would be no terror for them," Marina chided him. "As things are now, they fear capture, knowing that untold horrors await them in my chamber of torture. They know we will use any and all means to torment them before they are finally broken and spill their guts."

The Director smiled at the two of them, both his protégés, as they spat back and forth with each other. Their progeny would be most formidable, he mused. And though Marina had little or no natural sexual desire, she would do whatever he wished, as would Haldar. If he wished them to mate and procreate, they would. He also knew that Marina could be excited by torture, and Haldar was no slouch in that field. When Haldar returned from Chrysalis, the Director mused, there should be time for him to breed Marina.

"Well done, Marina."

"Thank you," she bowed her head. "You know, Starfleet is not normally so careless. They have the means to totally alter a person, including her blood color. Her job was such that sooner or later her private parts would have been seen. The least they could have done was be sure that all her flesh was dyed to match her outer skin."

"Perhaps they didn't have the time needed to do the job correctly," Haldar commented. "We have been clearing out their little nests quite frequently after all."

"True," Marina admitted. "True."

"Send the information to Xeron," the Director commanded, "and the head to me."

"Yes, lord," Marina bowed her head again, cutting the transmission.

The Director pulled a small diskette from his desk. "Here is all the information you will need to kill the bitch," he said. "Study it on your way to Chrysalis. There is a Marauder at your disposal. It is equipped with a new device, something we--acquired--from a race called the Romulans. It should make you invisible to all sensor devices, able to get into the system without detection. I say should, because the device is still very experimental, even to these Romulans. Once you are there, at Chrysalis, you're on your own. What you do, How you handle her execution is completely up to you." He fixed Haldar with his icy glare. "I just want her head on my trophy case."

"Yes, lord," Haldar bowed his head.

He was startled to feel the firm grasp of his master on his shoulder. Looking up, he was surprised to find the Director standing over him, fixing him with that penetrating look of his, this time filled with pride. "I am proud of you, Haldar. Very proud. You have exceeded all my hopes, my expectations, for you."

Haldar felt his cheeks grow warm at the praise. Dipping his head again, he murmured, "I live to serve you, lord. Only to serve you."

"I know," the Director nodded as he stepped back to his chair, dismissing the young Orion. He pulled up the holo of the Human female's face again, and studied it with an obsession bordering on madness.

Day 8 -- Evening
The Cord Mansion
Chrysalis

Christopher Pike stared around the room, his glance constantly coming back to his dining companion. Ariel Cord was seated next to him at the head of a long dining table, savoring her meal. He was still a bit uncomfortable at the setting. The room was huge, easily as large, if not larger, than the largest meeting room on the Enterprise.

"Nice little room," he finally said. "You could seat fifty people around this table, and not one of them would be touching."

"I know," Ariel chuckled, feeling a little relief that he finally spoke.

He'd been more pensive than usual, and that concerned her. The fact he was slightly intimidated by the mansion was something she could handle.

"I thought you said this was a cozy little dining room."

"Compared to some of the others, it is," she stated simply.

"Some of the others? Forget it," he shook his head. "Nice little place your family has. What are there, 200 rooms?"

Ariel shook her head, giggling. "Only 105," she admitted. "You know, there are some I've never even seen."

"I can believe it," Chris shook his head. Opulence was something he was definitely not use to. Not that he couldn't get used to it, he admitted. There just wasn't any room for it on his starship.

Her hand touched his arm, resting there as they continued to eat. He was still pensive, still withdrawn. So it wasn't the size of her house, she sighed.

Fortunately, he had called before he'd come over, else he'd have found Tom, Reed and Vasha here as well as Gina and Kala. She wasn't ashamed of her lifestyle, but she knew that he might not understand. She wanted to explain it to him, in her own way and in her own time.

The five of them had understood when she asked them to continue their party at the Sybaron, in rooms paid for by her. They had piled in the cab, Gina and Reed barely able to keep their hands off of each other. Kala looked smug as Tom and Vasha kept close to her. From the look on Tom's face, Kala had showed him some interesting Andorian variations, with the help of Vasha. Tom was always eager to try something new.

"I'm glad you're back," she said softly. She was rewarded with a small smile that soon disappeared again. "Chris, what's wrong? Did something happen on your last mission? Can you tell me?"

Chris studied his plate, toying with his fork for a few long silent minutes. Then he looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Let me put it this way," he finally said. "Had any hot nights on the beach lately?"

Ariel stared at him for a beat, then threw back her head, laughing in relief. "Oh, you know."

"Ariel, how could I not know?" he demanded. "Your face--and-and other body parts--are all over the entertainment channels! You are a bloody phenomenon!"

"Never had it put that way before," Ariel chuckled. Still smiling, she went on, "Chris, they're a lot fun to do, and they are a great stress outlet. And with med school, I'm finding that I have a lot of stress." She looked at him, sobering a little. "You're p--" She paused, then began again. "You're mad, aren't you?"

Chris looked at her, shaking his head. "No, not mad. Not exactly," he qualified. "Confused is more like it. I mean," he stood up, pacing back and forth, "how can you be with all those men, do all those things, and then come to me?"

She stared up at the starship captain, the anguish more than evident on his handsome face. "Oh Chris, I don't know if you can understand this or not, but I just love sex. I love to do it. And I love to have it done to me. And," she admitted, "I'm an exhibitionist. These films let me do both; be an exhibitionist and have sex. Did you know that some of the backers have been trying to get me to go on the strip circuit? And I might do it," she added, gauging his reaction, "just for the sensation of stripping in public. But Chris," she stood and walked over to him, placing her hand on his arm tenderly, "with them it is just sex. Nothing more. Two bodies," she caught his raised eyebrow, "or more," she amended, "joining in a physical act, creating friction and a physical sensation. That's all. There's no relationship between them and me. You and I, Chris, we have a relationship. With you, it's more than sex. More than physical release. So very much more."

Her lips settled on his gently. Slowly he returned the kiss.

"Really?" he finally asked, his eyes searching hers questioningly.

"Really," she nodded. "I was afraid you'd have a hard time understanding what I do. And you are such a straight arrow."

"Not a prude?" Chris asked archly.

"Not quite that bad," she giggled. "Close," she tapped his nose with her well-manicured finger, "but not quite."

Chris sat back in a large chair, pulling Ariel onto his lap. "I have to admit that I was--shocked--when I saw you on the screen in those promotional tapes," he allowed. "And then when I saw the films" He shook his head. "Caged and Deadly was totally unbelievable!"

"Yeah, well, it wasn't all that easy to film either," Ariel sniggered.

"Let me guess," Chris pulled her closer to him. "The scene with the B'rythian, right?"

Ariel giggled again, nodding her head. "That's the one. We used half a tube of lubricant, but I still had a hell of time sitting down for the next week. Didn't feel much like sex that week either."

"You?" Chris stared at her in surprise. "The self-professed exhibitionist and sex fiend?"

"Me, the exhibitionist and sex fiend," Ariel continued to giggle. "Tony said there was no way I could do the scene, so of course I had to do it. And I have a reputation to uphold--no body doubles for me, and no computer-generated scenes either. So," she shrugged, resting her head on his shoulder, letting her finger trail along his chest, "I got together with B'leth and Tony, and we discussed how the scene was going to be done, and what B'leth was going to do, and what he and I had to do to reduce any potential damage to myself."

"You mean those scenes are rehearsed?"

"Some are," she said. "Some are just sort of roughed out and we just do what come naturally." Chris shook his head in wonder. "Anyway, we discussed the scene, then we shot it. One take. It's the one scene that everyone seems to want to talk about."

"I can see why," Chris said drolly.

"Like I said, had a hell of time sitting down the next week, and didn't feel like having sex either. But I made up for it the following week," Ariel added teasingly.

"I believe it." Chris shook his head before burying his head in her soft blond hair.

"Chris," she nuzzled him back, "I hear that both the moons are out tonight. Full moons."

"Really?"

"Really," she murmured. "And both the suns are nearly set. Makes for a nice dark, romantic night on the beach."

"How about a hot night on the beach?"

"That's a distinct possibility," she giggled as she nibbled his ear. "Shall we see which it will be?"

"Just the two of us?"

"Just the two of us," she affirmed as she stood and pulled Chris to his feet and led him toward the french doors that led to the sand-covered property.

Day 8 -- Evening
The Main Dining Room
Hotel Royale
Chrysalis

Captain John Raintree sat at his table, toying with his meal. He really shouldn't be wasting his food, he chided himself, not at these prices. But he just didn't have any appetite.

His appetite had plummeted to nothing soon after he had met Wentworth in the bar four days ago. He'd thought he'd put it all behind him, the loss of the Hood, the torture on Xantharus, seeing his few remaining crew murdered by slow torture, seeing his young communications officer brutalized by the pirates Wentworth had brought it all back. Every last damned painful detail.

Raintree shook his head and took another bite of food. He had to put it behind him, he told himself. Tomorrow he would get a new ship, named for his old ship. If only...

If only he could have brought some of his old crew with him. But that was impossible. Only he and Julie Chastain had survived. He'd remained in Starfleet, but Julie, the poor girl, had not been able to continue with her career. Not after what had been done to her. And he could not blame her.

"You look like you could use some company," a soft voice said from behind his right shoulder.

Raintree turned slowly and stared up into the face of one of the most beautiful females he could ever remember seeing. Her long black hair was piled high on her head, making her seem taller than she was. Her outfit, a simple silk blouse that buttoned up the front and form-fitting pants, did nothing to hide her splendid attributes or the fact that she was wearing nothing under them. Her golden eyes sparkled brightly, and her light green skin glowed. A memory of a spirited Orion standing up to an imperious councilman flooded him.

He stood slowly, feeling himself falling into her golden orbs. "Yes," he finally shook himself. "Yes, I could." He pulled out the chair next to him. "Please."

"Don't mind if I do." She lowered her shapely form into the chair and signaled for a menu. "I do hope they can serve a decent Borzan burnt steak here. I haven't had any since we left Xantharus."

"Well, Cord prides himself on being able to get the best of anything here," Raintree said, "and that should include Orion favorites."

"In which case, I might even try the Orvelan fruit pie," Shy'na Purim mused. "Haven't had that for even longer. Couldn't afford the extra calories after I took on the persona of Malana. And it didn't help that she had the reputation of hating Orvelan fruit pie."

"Been a long time, Shy'na," Raintree said soberly.

"I know," she nodded. "Last time I saw you, they were transferring you to a medical bed on Rigel V."

"I was there for almost three months," Raintree sighed. "The physical stuff didn't take that long--the head shrinks were harder to convince that I had recovered from that ordeal. As much as a person could recover from something like that."

"What have you been doing since then?" Shy'na questioned, not wishing him to relive the past.

"Sitting on my ass behind a desk," Raintree snorted. "Doing busywork while the brass decided what to do with me. Then waiting for my ship to be built."

"Yes, I heard about that," Shy'na smiled as a plate with a large blacken piece of meat with all the trimmings was set before her. "The Constitution class is really beautiful."

"Lady, any starship is beautiful, especially if you're her captain," Raintree told her sternly.

"Spoken like a true ship captain," Shy'na grinned as she sampled her meat. "Heavenly!" she sighed. "Didn't overdo the Trelan hot spice like some places do. By the way, congratulations on getting the Hood."

"Thank you. So, what have you been doing since Xantharus?" Raintree asked her.

"A little of this, a little of that," she shrugged. "All boring as hell. Right now I'm between assignments, so I took some of that leave time I've been accumulating."

"And you came here?"

"Well, it was here or Wrigley's Planet, and I've been there," Shy'na said, spearing a small vegetable that Raintree couldn't identify. "I've never been to Chrysalis before. And I heard you were here."

"Are you telling me I was the deciding factor?" Raintree asked, watching as she continued to enjoy her steak sensually."

"Well, let's say, you were one of the deciding factors," she finally admitted, a twinkle in her eyes.

"Between assignments," Raintree said. "Does that mean you have something lined up after your leave?"

"Yes. I'm going to be in charge of the Intelligence Network on Xantharus." She popped another piece of meat into her mouth.

"You're going back to that--that hell hole?!"

"That hell hole is very important to the Federation," Shy'na reminded him. "We need to know what the Alliance is up to."

"It's not the safest place in the universe for a woman," Raintree said coldly.

"Oh really." Shy'na glared at him, her golden eyes glittering hard as she shook her meat-ladened fork at him. "Well, for your information, Captain John Raintree, I am a commander in Starfleet, a trained Starfleet Intelligence officer, fully versed in very means of armed and unarmed defense and offense known to just about every sentient being in the known universe. I can, and have, killed men taller, stronger and heavier than I without raising a sweat. And in case you hadn't noticed, Xantharus was not particularly friendly to you. And you're a man."

"Whoa! I surrender!" Raintree held up a hand in defeat. "I meant no slur against your abilities." He sobered a bit. "That place is a hell hole, plain and simple; it's not a safe place for male or female."

"Forgiven." She stuck the piece of meat in her mouth and smiled at him. "You have to understand, Jack, I've been fighting that type prejudicial behavior since I entered the Academy. And it hasn't gotten any better since I graduated."

"And you have to forgive my chauvinistic behavior. My people always did protect their females."

"That's a different heritage than I'm used to," Shy'na admitted. "Orions don't value their females except as objects of pleasure or for procreation." She looked intently at Raintree. "'Protect your females?'"

"Yeah," Raintree smiled at her, "braves protect their squaws from the enemy. Been known to go after those who hurt their women with dull knives and skin 'em alive."

"Oh yeah?" she studied his face intently.

"Yeah," he smiled at her.

"Sounds like heaven."

"Mom always thought so."

They stared at each other for a few minutes, then Raintree's eyes dropped to his nearly empty plate. It was surprising how his appetite had improved with appearance of this Orion woman. And for a brief moment, he'd forgotten

But only for a brief moment. His face clouded.

"Jack?" Shy'na asked worriedly.

"You know, Shy'na, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about them. All of them, the 196 that died when the ship was hulled, and the five that were killed on the planet."

"I know," Shy'na said. "And I understand. But Starfleet sometimes feels that the sacrifice is necessary. It's not right. It's not fair. But they do it. And they will continue to do it until the end of time."

The waiter appeared and cleared their plates away, then arrived with their desserts.

"That's Orvelan fruit pie?" Raintree stared at the tall concoction that was placed in front of Shy'na. The colors of the rainbow peered out from under a thick gooey syrup.

"Hm. That's Black Forest Cake?" Shy'na stared at the large piece of chocolate cake with the white cream and dark cherries covering the layers.

"Yes it is." Raintree helped himself to a large piece.

"You should have told me it was chocolate," she stared at her dessert bleakly. "Chocolate is one of my weaknesses."

"Most Humans have the same weakness," Raintree chuckled. "Want a taste?"

"Oh, can I?" She looked hopefully at him.

"Sure," Raintree moved her dessert out of the way and edged the plate between them. "And once we finish this one, we'll order another piece."

"Can we?" Shy'na brightened.

"Absolutely," Raintree aimed a piece for her mouth.

She savored the portion, her eyes becoming dreamy. "It's heavenly," she gushed, bringing a huge grin to Raintree's face.

They continued to devour the slice of cake between them, then demolished the fruit pie, which brought a surprised look to Raintree's face as the fruity tastes, both sweet and tart at the same time, exploded on his tongue, then consumed the second slice of cake that was delivered to them.

Finally, "I haven't eaten so much in a long time," Raintree sighed, pushing back from the table.

"I haven't eaten so much dessert in a long time," Shy'na qualified. "I hope I can work the calories off."

"You don' t look like you have any trouble with your weight," Raintree commented, letting his eyes travel down her slender form appreciatively.