Nubilean Angels E-Book

James McKenna

• Herausgeber: Lone Cloud
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 497

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Far out in the universe Grolack monsters search for planets whose inhabitants they can enslave.Only the Nubilean Angels stand in their way. Nubilean Angels are a fierce race of powerful and beautiful women who walk almost naked at all times. They are dedicated to the destruction of the Grolacks but they also suffer treachery and deceit amongst their leadership.When the Grolacks find Earth they start the enslavement of the human race. Only the Nubilean Angels save them.

Leseprobe

NUBILEAN ANGELS

Lone Cloud PublishingUnit 1 Betjeman Close, Cowper Road,Harpenden, Herts AL5 4XH2021

ISBN [email protected] James McKenna 2021.All rights reserved

The right of James McKenna to be identifiedas the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages

This novel is entirely the work of fiction The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. A clip catalogue record for this book isavailable from the British LibraryThis book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade, or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that is which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Book cover design by BespokeBookCovers.com

Thanks to Sylvia Patterson and Virginia McKenna for helpwith editing

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

AS A FULLTIME WRITER

OTHER BOOKS BY JAMES MCKENNA

THE UNCOUNTED

GLOBAL RAIDER

THE BLACK ROSE CONSPIRACY

VIVAS

CHAPTER 1

“No,” Kiri shouted. The Grolack’s weight crushed the breath from her. The others squealed in excitement, struggling to hold her down. Her talons had extended when first attacked and she strained to free her arms. The stench of his breath blew into her face and ribbing on his armour dug against her breasts. She began to panic, thrashing wildly to prevent them parting her legs. Her mind reached out, searching to contact her comrades through the medium of their telepathic powers. She shouted for her friend Eloo, but no answer came.

His genitals were now pressing on her thigh and she kicked in desperation, twisting her hips sideways. This was the dread of every Nubilean warrior. The horror they never believed would happen. Now in her first major battle, almost her first hour, she was being raped by Grolack soldiers. If they succeeded she would lose her will, her courage. They would pull her talons and torture her into submission. The Grolack yelled for the others to force her back. He had never been close to a Nubilean, never set eyes on anything so wonderful. The force of her struggle made her sweat a scent that wafted in the air with a fragrance that drove him crazy to possess her. She was the most beautiful being he had ever laid hold of. To penetrate a Nubilean was to experience heaven and gain the submission of her mind. For a Grolack she was the ultimate prize. She would bring him wealth, her talons alone were worth a fortune.

Eloo’s voice came telepathically to Kiri. A strong, authoritative voice that spoke directly to her mind.

“Be calm, my precious. It is your body they want, not your life. Use your wits, delude them. Let them think you’re beaten.”

Kiri obeyed instinctively. She ceased to struggle and her talons withdrew. She lay without emotion staring into his eyes. The Grolack, believing she had submitted, shouted for the others to slacken their hold. He could barely contain himself as he turned her hips and spread her legs. His squad squealed encouragement and pushed close to watch; her arms were no longer pinned.

“Strike now,” Eloo said.

Kiri snatched free her wrist. Her talons emerged from the ends of her fingers and she slashed their razor tips across the rapist’s throat. He rolled sideways clutching his neck. Using his momentum, she pushed and freed her body.

The screech she emitted turned their jeers into panic as Kiri rose to her full eight feet in height, her long slender limbs taut with muscle, her talons extended three inches. They scattered, but none escaped her speed of movement.

She slashed with both hands, tearing flesh and tunic alike. Their screams of terror were contained by the crater walls, while she turned and twisted amongst them, striking fast, accurate blows which disemboweled and partially decapitated. She killed by instinct and without compassion, tearing them apart until the slaughter was complete. She was left standing amidst the scattered and bloody remains.

“Come little one,” Eloo called. “We have other work to do.”

Kiri reclimbed the crater into which she had fallen under attack. She felt an element of shame in having allowed the situation to happen, in not dealing with it alone. Near the crater’s edge she retrieved her lost laser and pulled herself onto level ground.

Eloo stood waiting, laser on hip, her expression disapproving.

Kiri embraced her, holding back her tears. “Thank you.”

“If you had followed your training the situation need not have arisen.” Eloo wiped a smudge from the younger one’s cheek. “Grolacks are vicious, but without intelligence. They are easily confused. In panic they turn on each other. Near victory they never consolidate their position. They are too eager for the spoils. Too eager for us, that’s why they’re killed so easily.”

“I panicked,” Kiri confessed.

Eloo stroked her, closing her mind so the youngster did not realise what fear and dread had stopped her in battle and brought her to the crater. Their relationship now dominated her life. For the most part they kept it hidden but at times like this it was difficult. Anything but sisterly comradeship between warriors was forbidden. Emotional ties were a weakness that endangered the whole group.

Kiri kissed her without reserve. She had no such inhibition about her feelings. She was young, Eloo was her friend, her teacher and her lover. She would do anything for her.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Enough,” Eloo said. “Come, we must catch the others.”

They ran with long, loping strides. Every movement of their bodies combined to a graceful balance of limb and pace. They flowed through the landscape in total harmony, their nakedness covered by traces of a silken blue sheen, hardly visible over the skin,

Across the boundaries, Nubileans were considered the most beautiful of all beings. A female race developed to physical perfection. They remained naked at all times, even in the clash of battle, allowing male enemies the mistaken belief that a display of female nudity was a prelude to capitulation. Their enchanting presence, coupled with purity of gender and uncompromising discipline, developed each into a living temple of their race. For the peaceful they were the angel warriors, the guardians of liberty and justice. For Drakens and Grolacks they became the angels of death.

CHAPTER 2

“No.” Philamena clasped a hand to her bodice, preventing Rian inserting a stem of grass. “Behave.”

“Behaving is for serious people. I gave up being serious when I stopped being a child.”

“You’ll always be a child.”

They strolled through the park in the summer warmth, heading for the pub on the far side. Mothers pushed prams and kids rode bikes. The large grey dog followed an enigmatic trail, its nose to the ground, occasionally stopping to worry the back of its head with a paw and look with satisfaction upon its territory. Fathers wore out their bodies with the obligatory Sunday jog and a foursome of young women crashed around the tennis courts in vigorous exertion.

“How is it,” Rian asked, “that women are always pulling down their skirts to cover their thighs, yet are quite prepared to leap round in public sport showing their knickers?”

“Because they’re women,” Philamena answered.

“Sure, I’m lost in the logic of it all.”

“You’re a budding philosopher. Reason your way.”

“I’d stand more chance with metaphysics and that’s a field of open questions.”

“So are women. They play a game, weaving a translucent veil of mystery. Periodically, depending on the woman’s taste, the veil is drawn aside, sometimes by design, sometimes chance. Either way, men are always eager for what they see.”

“That’s female logic. Men don’t give a damn about such things.”

“Oh yes they do. But most are so taken by it they don’t realise they are led by the nose. Lace, perfume and a flash of knickers are just a few of the weapons used to dominate you lot.”

“The arrogance of it. I’d never fall for that.”

She took his arm, pulling it to her so he was forced to feel the softness of her body. “You think not.”

He shrugged, enjoying the contact. “Sure, I’d be on to it straight away.”

“That’s what I love about you, Rian Corrigan. You’re so aware of what’s happening to you.”

She turned him from the tennis courts and across the grass. In the months she had known him they had grown increasingly close. His easy, Irish manner made him fun to be with, while friendship and love slid naturally together, co-existing in a mixture of passion and laughter. He never made demands, expecting her loving consent. As yet, she had not refused him.

Philamena wanted a table in the garden and Rian gave in to her smile, away from his friends, huddled over their pints by the bar. She chatted idly and toyed with her glass of Campari, her tussle of copper blond hair striking in the sunlight.

Her hair had been the first attraction for Rian. There seemed so much for such a small person. It glorified her, like a halo.

She was petite and to his eyes, exquisite. He did not see any imperfections, nor really cared if any existed. He knew her mind was sharp and she had much to offer. During his life he had become adept at dancing in and out of relationships without making a commitment. He was the envy of his colleagues but it left him with little understanding of women. Now for the first time he had met someone he could not step away from. His amateur groping at philosophy did little to explain his feelings.

“Shall I get another drink?” he asked. Philamena leant forward and traced a finger along the back of his hand. He had drunk two pints to her one glass. She always counted. After a fourth he would start to get silly.

“One more, then if you are good, I’ll take you home for lunch.” She smiled for him and her eyes promised everything.

“How could a man refuse? I’m as good as yours.”

He manoeuvred through the tables and she watched other women eyeing him. He was striking with his Celtic looks. Though he drank too much, he remained lean and firm with the neatest bum she had ever laid hands on. She had given herself to few men and been careful in her choice. She did not accept infidelity, but in return was open to their needs. When it come to her own gender, she made no demands. Such affairs were infrequent, brief and passionate. They satisfied a mutual need for love without the trauma of men. They always finished sweet and sad. They never really ended.

Rian was unlike any other she had met. He leaped into her life one day and bedded her that night; not even asking. They drank bottles of wine, argued freewill and determinism and careered naked round her flat in wild Irish jigs. He had exhausted her. She awoke next morning curled at his side, content.

“Why have you two pints of beer?” she asked disapprovingly on his return.

He passed her Campari and took a deep draught from one of the pints.

“Because long ago a guy called Zeno put forward a theory of philosophy, that movement of any degree is impossible.” Rian lifted the second glass and drank. He tapped the first. “The theory is this. For me to drink that glass I have first to drink half of it, which means I have first to drink half of the half of it, and half of that half, and every half before that ad infinitum. And that, as you realise, is impossible. So as I can’t drink that glass, I’ll drink this one.”

“You’re having me on.”

“That’s why I need two, for research.” He emptied the first glass and reached for the other. “Jesus, would you believe it, another failed experiment.”

“You are incorrigible,” she said in reproach, hands on hips.

“Just part of the translucent veil covering the male mystic. Now drink up woman, I’m desperate for your body.”

CHAPTER 3

“What is your name Draken?” Eloo observed the hybrid with distaste. By his extended nose and jaw, she judged him of low origins. He hunched his black, wizen shaped body, wringing clawed fingers, oozing subservience.

“Spurg,” he answered. “My mother called me Spurg.”

“You never had a mother. Only the Draken circle are born of pure female.”

“I swear Lady Mistress. I am a scientist of the highest order.”

“High enough to breed maggots,” Kiri said. She lent forward, allowing another member of the group to fasten a collar and chain around her neck. She did likewise to Eloo.

They stood below the brow of a hill. On the opposite side lay a Grolack compound, an encirclement of junk, of derelict fighters and land cruisers, the scrape and waste that appeared wherever Grolacks settled.

They estimated an enemy force of around three hundred, holding a similar number of prisoners. Most would be females from the invaded planet. Females fetched the highest price in the slave market. Captured males were used as parts in Grolack factories, children were eaten. Few survived capture.

Eloo’s plan meant Kiri and she would suffer, but she saw no alternative way to cross the open space before the compound. The Grolacks had a large cannon mounted on the wall that ruled out any frontal attack.

Both pulled on gloves with metal caps over the fingers and straps that fastened at the wrist. The gloves were a Draken invention, meant to prevent warriors extending their talons. In these gloves the wrist locks had been removed.

“They are going to enjoy us, “Eloo said to her warriors. So when I call, come fast. Kiri has a temper.” She patted the other’s cheek and they laughed.

Each sister then touched the other and their minds became as one. No further spoken word passed between them.

Eloo gave the chains to Spurg. “Lead us Draken, and remember, death is but a moment from your first mistake.”

The three came round the hill and moved down across the dry valley floor. Eloo saw Grolacks on the wall take interest, saw them swing the cannon in their direction. The closer they drew the more Grolacks appeared, their grunts and squeals carrying in the air. She read the fear in Spurg’s mind, he knew there was a strong chance of being killed. Two Nubileans were worth all the other slaves together. Her life depended entirely on how she handled the Grolack in charge. The stench of the compound increased with each step, the smell of crowded, unwashed bodies, mixed with the odour of decay.

They were almost under the wall before the senior Grolack appeared. He showed the typical bloated pig like features of a Grolack mutant, an attempt to biologically create a Grolack with intelligence, an artificial life neither machine or creature, an experiment gone wrong.

“Stay,” he shouted. “I am Lug. This is my compound. What have you to trade reptile?”

“Nubileans,” Spurg answered. “I need a shuttle to get back to my ship. Some food. Perhaps a female or two.”

“How could a freak like you capture two warriors? You’ll tell me next you raped them. Do you have anything to do it with?” he shouted, encouraging his soldiers to laugh, bloating his chest when they did so.

“There were others, they have been killed. I am the last of a trading party,” Spurg answered.

“I think you stole them,” Lug said. “And I am of noble birth, I cannot deal with thieves.”

“I too am noble, an aristocrat,” Spurg shouted.

“You! You were spewed, not born. But I am noble because I have noble features. Is that not so?” Lug turned to the Grolacks, his arm raised, challenging any to doubt his word. The soldiers squealed and grunted, stamping in approval.

“I recognised your status noble one. I can see you are of the highest Grolack society.”

“Indeed I am. The very highest.” He looked closer at Eloo and Kiri. “They are fine specimens. Have you pulled their talons?”

“No sir. I saved that pleasure for the one who buys. But as you can see, they are gloved, they are quite safe.”

“Bring them,” Lug shouted “Let’s see what you have.”

In the base of the junk pile a gate was dragged aside allowing Spurg to lead them into the yard beyond. Grolacks swarmed from the wall and out of their holes, shouting jeering. Both warriors were pushed and grabbed from every side. Lug came through the mob flaying with a whip and punching any who stood in his way.

Standing tall over the crowd, Eloo and Kiri reconnoitered the compound. The slave pens were full of the planet’s indigenous population, small red-haired people who showed little emotion or intelligence. Few Grolacks remained on the wall, and these looked to the square. The cannon was deserted.

“Attack now,” Eloo spoke with telepathic power to the minds of her warriors on the hill. “Our ordeal is starting.”

Lug struck viciously until he cleared a circle around them.

“You are right reptile. They are unmarked.” He fondled a breast of each, squeezing Kiri’s until she winced.

“See great one, how readily they respond. It is only their spirit which is broken. They are in prime condition for training, raped only once, and not by me. I’ve kept them clean.

Control became difficult for Kiri as Lug seized her jaw, forcing her to bare her teeth.

“Not bad. Are her talons unbroken?”

“They will make a fine necklace.” Spurg bowed, twisting his hands. Encouraged by Lug’s appreciation he turned the warriors round, offering appraisal of both their rears.

“Magnificent,” Lug said and he lashed first Eloo, then Kiri with his whip.

The younger cried sharply, unable to stop her reaction to the sting that seared her buttocks. Beneath the gloves her talons pushed against the metal tips.

“Not yet,” Eloo told her. “Resist.”

“Wait my lord,” Spurg intervened, terrified the Nubileans would blame him for their pain. “Before you mark them, we must first agree a price.”

“Price. The price reptile is your life.” Lug squeezed Spurg’s face and pushed him backwards, sprawling the small Draken between the legs of the crowd.

“A few moments more.” The approaching warrior’s words came clear to both Eloo and Kiri as the tall grey figures sped across the open valley floor. They could see Grolacks on the wall and near the cannon.

Lug turned back on his captives flaying each in turn until red welts rose across the soft, silken skin. “Move you bitches, I have special treatment for you.”

Eloo felt her flesh on fire, involuntarily she took a pace forward, straining to retain her talons while the Grolacks cheered at her apparent obedience. Kiri had less success. Her right glove fell to the ground under the pressure within. The skin on her rear smarted with pain and burnt with humiliation as strip after strip was laid on her. The screech started low in her throat and rose to a crescendo. She could do nothing to stop it.

Lug heard the sound on its first note. His reactions resulted equally from fear as self-preservation. He leapt backward into the space where Spurg had fallen, stamping on his body to get clear.

“Kill.” Eloo spoke the single word before throwing aside her gloves and lashed with three-inch talons. Face and bodies split apart, splattering the circle with the green slime of Grolack blood.

Shouts of encouragement for the whipping now turned to terror. Those at the front pushed back against the mob forcing from the rear. The combined volume of the Nubilean screech rose above the noise and carried across the compounds where their sisters scaled the wall.

Talons ripped apart armour, flesh and bone in sustained slaughter. The Grolack panic becoming a hysterical frenzy beyond their mental control. Any who were armed fired indiscriminately at whatever moved, killing dozens of their own. Both Eloo and Kiri took up fallen lasers and fired directly into the tight pack of bodies. The volley of laser bolts cut through their ranks. Gasses within the Grolacks exploded, and part of the crowd caught fire. They began to scatter from the centre of the compound, only to be stopped by Nubilean fire from the walls. The warriors decimated them. Soon the compound was a mass of dead and burning bodies.

Smoke drifted in heavy black clouds through the pens where slaves cowered against each other. When she detected no further sign of enemy movement, Kiri stood and with other warriors began to open doors. Soon little people were running from the gate and across the desert floor.

Eloo rose also. She unfastened the collar from her neck and went in search of Lug.

She knew Grolacks had no concern for each other. For the elite, Grolack soldiers were no more than animals, hatched on conveyor belts, while a Draken grabbed all he could and deserted.

“Nubilean bitches,” Lug shouted, rummaging where he had hidden money. He pushed bundles of it into a container along with trinkets and crystals. When the box was full, he lifted it to his shoulder and taking a laser, returned outside. The smoke gave good cover but he could see Nubileans at the far end of the compound releasing slaves. He let lose a long burst from his laser and turned the cage with the people inside, to a ball of flame.

The section of wall he climbed was comprised entirely of junked fighter craft, save for one on top. Though it looked no different from the others, it remained functional. He opened its lower hatch and heaved the box inside before returning to the ground. His journey might be a long one and he needed food. Eloo saw him enter the building beneath the wall. She heard cries of Nubileans, not the screech of warriors, but the pleading of little mothers to be left alone.

Inside, the building was sectioned into cages and through the maze of bars she watched Lug drag out a little mother by her collar. He held her close and Eloo hesitated to fire, to do so would kill them both. Lug saw and fired at her instantly. The laser bolt burnt its way through the bars of a dozen cages, splattering molten metal, losing power with each obstacle. It was easy for her to spring aside, but it gave Lug time.

He fired back into the cage, not at the prisoners, but the floor. Flames billowed, driving the little ones back from the door. Lug was now hidden by smoke but Eloo heard him pulling his captive along a passage parallel to her own. In the cage they began screaming, and she had no alternative but to help.

It was impossible to reach them through the door so she turned her laser to minimum and cut the bars. She tried to calm them, to reach their thoughts, but she found only fear. They were frantic, unmindful of a captive warrior who knelt by their feet, head bowed and oblivious to her surroundings.

Eloo cut four bars top and bottom and began to pull the little ones out. They clung to her, making her task more difficult, but she was patient. She encouraged the last, letting her arms go round her neck, pulling her through the gap, before herding them all along the passage, shouting to make them run. Only then did she return. The warrior remained in the same position, the fine silken down on her body singed by heat. They had clipped her tendons at the back of her knees, making use of her lower legs impossible and condemning her to a life on all fours. In conditioned obedience the warrior opened her mouth, Eloo cried out in pity. They had extracted her teeth. She knelt and took her head but there was nothing in her mind, no thought, no memory. Still beautiful on the outside, they had broken her body and extinguished her spirit. The flames now burnt both of them. Eloo stood back and fired a laser bolt into the warrior’s head.

On the wall, Lug bundled the little mother into the fighter and climbed in behind. She slapped out at him and he knocked her unconscious with a single blow.

“Nubilean bitches,” he muttered again. Within moments the fighter lifted from the wall and disappeared into the sky. Out of the planet’s orbit he set course for the nearest Grolack colony. Only then did he turn to the container. Spurg crouched onall fours behind.

“What are you doing reptile?”

“Escaping noble one.”

“Not with me you don’t.” Lug grabbed and dragged him to the jettison tube.

“I can help you sir, I have black blood. The same as the Draken circle.”

Lug stopped, and taking his knife, cut the end of Spurg’s ear. Black slime trickled down the blade.

“How can you help me reptile?”

“I am a master at my science. I can make your blood as black as any, it would be proof you are of noble birth. Acceptance to the inner circle. Wealth and prestige, I can do it. I can also make Grolack soldiers. I am very clever.”

Lug withdrew him from the tube and threw him across the little one.

“You live for now, but if you cannot do as you have told me, you will die miserably.”

Spurg scrambled over the body, testing her with his fingers.

“I’m very clever, noble one. Very, very clever. And I can cook.”

***

In the compound Eloo ushered little mothers away from the smoke. On the crest of the wall she saw the gap left by the fighter and knew Lug had escaped.

“One day I’ll find you Lug,” she whispered. “One day you’ll pay.”

She opened her mind to the rest of her companions. The fighting had finished and they called to each other, gathering together as a group. She felt uneasy, knowing instinctively something was wrong. The others were standing by the pens. They were watching her, their minds closed to their feelings. In the middle lay Kiri, a bloodstained cloth on her body.

“I’m sorry Eloo,” said a warrior. “Your little one is dead.”

CHAPTER 4

“Why do you not perform professionally?” Rian asked. He sat cross-legged and naked on Philamena’s bed.

They had made love, not lunch. Later she had risen, still hungry for him and tied on her ballet shoes. Now she enjoyed the exhibition of her nudity. She stood before a mirrored wall, one arm curved above her head, leg raised, her balance aided by a rail which ran beside it. In this position she slowly lowered and raised herself.

“Because I will never make the top,” she answered. “I am considered too short and with a figure too full.” She floated her arm down and behind her so her breasts were thrust forward. “In fact, I was told they were big enough for a principal male to stand on.”

“Jealous nonsense. I bet those guys couldn’t wait to lay hands on you.”

“It was a man who told me.” Philamena turned to the mirror, lifting one leg so her heel rested on the bar. She watched his reflection, saw the widening of his eyes as she bent and stretched taut the muscles of her right side. She enjoyed his reaction and let her years of training sculpture her body to classical lines.

“It is not the way. In professional dance, partners are no more than an extension of one to the other. Discipline makes sure of that. Besides, offstage some prefer to dance with their own gender.” She smiled enigmatically, but this flotsam if truth was lost on Rian. He was staring intently between his legs.

“I do believe there was movement,” he said. “A definite indication of life.”

Philamena lowered her foot and lifted the other, stretching her body in the opposite direction, waiting for his attention.

“I prefer to teach,” she said. “I enjoy it.” She spun from the bar and faced him, legs as one, feet horizontal, arms arched upwards.

“The fifth position,” she declared.

“I know some interesting positions myself.” He was looking at her small tuft of pubic hair, it amazed him how little there was compared with the huge cascade of copper blond tresses reaching from head to breast, highlighting the ivory of her skin, curving bare and fragile to this tiny blond mound. When touched it felt like silk.

“I just bet you do,” she said. Arms still raised she crossed the floor and lifting one foot to his chest, forced him down. “But I know better.”

“Again?”

“Again. If you are capable.” She pressed hard with her foot. “You appear very pale.”

“Lady, look between my thighs and witness there what brings about this change in my condition. What rises forth in majesty, is a beast so mighty mere mortal man is pushed to cope. So great a demand is made for blood to swell such girth and length, my face and body are drained, as if in death. Lady, I am but the humble bearer of this noble animal, which now, I offer in your service.”

“Codswallop,” she flicked it with her foot, testing its rigidity, before straddling his body. “If this be a beast, let it breathe fire before its demise.”

CHAPTER 5

Gabriella twisted her medallion of office. As expected, Bron was being difficult. Other members of the guardian chamber sat with her, unsure of making comment. Gabriella was a forceful leader and her tongue scathing. They had gathered in the palace overlooking the lakes of Nubilea.

Bron, stretched in his cloak, leant against a Doric column and glared sullenly from the window. With height the same as a human, it allowed him to copy the pose of Greek statues. Like other stances, he had practiced this pose to perfection. The meeting was important and the result of long-term planning. He played his part with care and gently tossed bait to his antagonist.

“It’s not time for my reincarnation. I have fifty years yet.”

Though Gabriella sat, his height still forced him to raise his eyes. To compensate, he glanced indifferently over her nakedness. This always irritated her.

Gabriella would not be goaded. Nubileans aged little, her physical attraction remained till death. She responded by drawing the medallion chain between the division of her breasts and leaning forward, pointing herself at him, like a weapon.

“All of your twenty sons, save the youngest born, are dead, and he is saved for the act of reincarnation. We need to increase our numbers. We need more mothers, more warriors. We are at war. Your sons were born too soon. The cycle must be advanced.”

“Not before my time. And let me tell you madam, my sons of this life are dead because you wore them out. From twelve they averaged ten thousand fertilisations each. They were meant to perpetuate your race. Not double its size.”

“That was before the Grolacks came. Before them we did not need an army.”

“My sons are flesh and blood, not machines.”

“We treat them kindly. Better than other male species we deal with. If they were fragile, it is you who are to blame.

“They are people, not animals.”

“The male has no part in Nubilean society. Their purpose is for breeding, and soon our scientists will even eliminate that physical contact. We will need only to milk them. Like cattle.” She threw the medallion aside in a gesture of dismissal. She loved humiliating him.

“So. I am just an animal, domesticated for your convenience.”

Gabriella warmed to her sarcasm. She smiled without benevolence. “You are different Bron. The father and son of all Nubileans. You are the embodied spirit of our crystal. We need your fertilisation, and your last born. If only it were possible to domesticate you, to change your insufferable behaviour. Life would be so pleasant.”

“Your life would never be pleasant, you’re too busy making it difficult for others, “Bron said. “And my last born? What of that poor boy? What do your virgin princesses do to swallow his life. Get your scientists on that, then I’ll listen.”

“It is not my doing. That is the manner in which the gods conceived the purity of the Nubilean race. Besides, he does not die. He becomes an embodied spirit. An infuriating little devil we are forced to tolerate.”

“They have helped you often enough. Go back to your laboratory, female. I have better things to do.” With a dramatic gesture he spun on his heel and stood staring to the far distant mountains, waiting for Gabriella’s reply. She hated to be called female. In the garden below little mothers played and laughing, some pregnant, some resting. Their short height allowing even Bron to rest a hand on their shoulders. “Bron, my prince,” Gabriella cooed and knelt to toy with the hem of his cloak. “We all love you, worship you. We would do anything for you. It is our law. We cannot refuse you.” She sounded pure sweetness playing to the chamber, but Bron knew the scorpion which rattled at his feet. “We need warriors Bron. You are the only one who can provide for us. Please, I beg you. Give us daughters.”

He was grateful she had not the power to read his mind. He turned slowly, maintaining his noble air and patted her head. She shuddered and he felt better for it. He began to pull her string.

“Very well,” he addressed the chamber. “I concede. You want daughters, I shall give you daughters.”

The room filled with the scent of their bodies as they bathed him in the warmth of approval. All applauded, cooed and smiled. Gabriella forced herself to kiss his small hand. Such a concession was driven only by her ambitions. The first Nubilean leader to live through two incarnations and be the founder of the greatest army her race had ever known. She would make history as no other before her.

“You want daughters,” Bron said. “So let’s start now, each one of you in turn.”

Bron watched every smile wither to a tight grimace of disgust. The elite of Nubilea never bore children. To do so placed them amongst the little mothers. A humiliation from which there was no recovery.

“You first Gabriella. I know you like to be public. Just spread yourself in the middle of the chamber, I don’t mind.” He smiled triumphantly while she observed him with the charm of a viper.

Gabriella rose slowly to one knee, sliding her hand under his cloak and letting it rest on his buttocks. Her voice whispered with the breath of ice.

“When the gods gave your spirit to Nubilea they gave us your physical control, and at this moment that control is mine. You are no stronger now than when a child. Remember what I did then, when you were difficult. That also is the law, and still applies,” She spread her fingers over his small backside.

“You would not dare. I have powers beyond your imagination. I am a deity.”

“You’re a spoilt brat and you need my hand across you. After your little outburst this lot would love it.”

“You forget my age. My masculine dignity.”

“You have no age. You are the same being as when you rose from the crystal five thousand years ago. Your subjugation continues forever. Conform, or I shall chastise you so all of Nubilea can hear and see. What then of your masculine dignity?”

“You are a bully madam.”

“With you, it’s a pleasure.”

“A truce.”

“I bow to your wisdom noble prince.” Gabriella rose and patted his head in matronly fashion.

For a moment Bron stood staring up at her, then throwing his cloak in dramatic gesture, he marched up marble steps to his throne. From there he scowled on the assembly.

“Gabriella objects to my solution of this problem. So I shall give my objections to what is proposed. If I am overruled, the outcome will be your responsibility, not mine. Do you agree?”

“We do,” Gabriella answered, walking back and forth below the steps. The rest made no comment.

Bron sat uneasily. He spoke as if annoyed but he chose his words with care. “Through time and reincarnation I have spent many lives on Nubilea. With each life I have dutifully produced the twenty sons necessary to continue your race, but for the rest of that life I have been left to conduct my research, to make crystals and do as I please. Why should this life be different?”

“To do as you please,” Gabriella sprung on the words. “Since birth, you have done nothing else. You were disobedient when a child and now worse when a man. You have bedded so many little mothers at random we have been forced to rewrite our birth programme, six times. We had to hide the court virgins because you took them out of turn. It was you who produced all your sons at once. You have never considered the wish of this chamber. You have never considered anyone but yourself. You have always done exactly as you please. Objection unfounded.”

Bron struck the arm of his throne. “You are an insufferable bitch. It’s meant to go to a vote.”

“As leader, I read the thoughts of all Nubileans. All agree with me, the decision is unanimous. Next objection.”

“Stupid females,” Bron muttered. They were looking at him, all of them, faces fixed with sweet smiles of revenge. “Reincarnation means a journey to my birth place. To the god planet, so my spirit can be rejuvenated and encapsulated through the Nubilean crystal. With the boundaries infested by Grolacks, such an expedition holds serious dangers.”

Gabriella took her cue and began to mount the steps. “You will be escorted by our finest ships, manned by our finest warriors. It is your duty to produce more sons so we may have more daughters, more warriors. We cannot rely on technology alone to rid the boundaries of the Grolacks. For this great cause we must increase our numbers. We do not shirk that duty.”

“Duty, killing, procreation that’s all you females ever think about. How about some mental activity? How about some fun?”

“Listen to a male. Fun. His activities, his fun, is to use our bodies for his pleasure.”

Bron sat back in his throne as the chamber voiced agreement. When Gabriella performed, she played the part with grand eloquence.

“What would he know of duty, of sacrifice. It is our warriors who police the boundaries for the gods. It is our warriors who fight the Grolack hordes. It is our mothers who give their daughters for the great cause. It is we the females, the chosen of the universe, who sacrifice ourselves to carry out the sacred trust of duty.” Gabriella threw up her arms and all thirty members of the chamber rose in applause.

“Bollocks.”

“Blasphemy. Objection unfounded.”

They cheered for Gabriella and she strutted in their admiration, striding back and forth below the throne, the level of step carefully chosen for her head to exceed the height of Bron’s.

“What if I am lost? You cannot deny that has happened.”

“Nearly every time.” She leant close to him. “But only through your trickery and deceit. I have read my history books, the ones kept secret, not shown to others. I know your past. But not while I’m your guardian. You don’t escape me.”

“What if I’m abducted? What if I am killed?”

“Impossible.” She stroked his cheek. “Trust me, precious one. I would never let your spirit be free.”

Bron read the triumph in her thoughts. He made no further objection. He was done.

CHAPTER 6

“Fancy a trip to Ireland?” Rian asked. He lay with his head in Philamena’s lap, her body curled about him while she searched her hair for split ends. The breeze of the late afternoon stirred curtains and wind-bells, it brought the sound of children in the park and the hum of distant traffic.

“I’ve never been,” she answered.

“You’d like it. There’s space. People still care. They enjoy life. Make time for the fun of it.”

She selected a single strand from the many thousands and snapped the end. “Does that mean you’ll spend all your time in the pub?”

“It does not. There’ll be plenty opportunity for sex.”

Philamena slapped his wrist. “That’s all you think of, sex and drink.”

“You forget I have ambitions to understand philosophy. Such activities must be examined in depth to realise their place within the logic of the mind. Besides, it’s untrue. I’m also one of Ireland’s greatest fishermen.”

“I bet you’ve never caught a fish in your life.”

“Woman. I’ve caught fish that big.” He stretched his arms wide.

Philamena searched for a second strand. “What else do we do besides watch Ireland’s fish stocks grow?”

“Nothing much, except walk and talk and drink and listen and eat and make love. What else is there to do in Ireland? Nothing ever happens, nothing at all.”

CHAPTER 7

“Come on Eloo. Relax. You have passed your course. You have your wings. You are now a space commander. A warrior elite. See how the little mothers eye you. Take your pick.”

Far out in the universe Eloo and her friend Majella sat on the lakeside terrace of an eating house. They talked long and dined well. Now for the first time she took in their surroundings. The place was busy and full of those without care. These people, she thought, were not touched by war. They were the administrators, the instructors, the tacticians. Few here had killed in the mud or dust of battle. These were the privileged. She felt outside.

“I bet you could even get a princess of the court,” Majella continued

“They’re snobs, without substance. All preen and pretension.”

“So no princess. OK, let’s pick up a couple of little ones, come on, fun time.”

“I’d rather go to bed. I chose my assignment tomorrow. It is important for me.”

“So is fun. If you want to go to bed, I’ll let you. But neither alone or sober.”

The villa was cool, its walls and floor of marble. Eloo lay on a couch watching the dawn draw mist from the lake. Beside her a little mother curled in sleep. A pretty little thing, eager to please.

The villa was shared by her friend who had spent the night with Majella. Their squeals and shrieks gradually dying into long huddled whispers. Now, save for the occasional bird call to the rising sun, there was silence. The little mother had been acquainted easily, enticed by Majella’s smooth words and Eloo’s medallion of commander. She had decided on Eloo immediately and sat on her lap most of the evening, both proud to be her companion and frightened someone might steal her. On the terrace they drank wine and sang with the others. They caressed and kissed frequently. The little one pulsed with joy but for Eloo it was bittersweet, for the last she had kissed had been Kiri. She did not brood. She danced. Everyone on the terrace danced. Arms to shoulder, they circled the tables, swaying in the perfect harmony of Nubilean movement. She loved to dance. If she had not been a warrior, dance would have been her life. She enjoyed herself and later, as they walked by the edge of the lake, she felt a touch of long ago, a touch of youth and home.

When they entered her dwelling, the little one placed a finger on Eloo’s lips. She switched off the nursery watch system then led her across the room. Eloo had never seen children since entering the academy. She was amazed at their angelic faces. She cooed in delight and the little one squeezed her, pleased with such admiration. In the bed before them lay three children, their innocence highlighted in sleep. From under the covers the little one took a hand and showed Eloo the developing talons.

“See,” she whispered, “She will be a warrior, like you.”

Eloo’s tears welled up without warning. They came in singular beads of pain. They came from all the suffering she had faced, all the suffering this child would face. The denial of self, of love, of emotion. They came for the making of the perfect warrior who killed by instinct and was often killed in doing so. She cried for the child, she cried for herself, and she cried for Kiri.

The little one did not understand. She led her from the bedroom to a small terrace overlooking the lake. There she lay Eloo to her breast, wiping her tears as she would a child’s.

“Your fame goes before you, Commander. There are not many who get to see Gabriella. You will be offered only the best.”

“I feel nervous” Eloo said.

“Don’t be. If she likes you, she will be charming. I advise you to make some light remark regarding her successes over Bron. Also a little flattery, but don’t go too far.”

Her escort was a young aristocrat from the Academy whose poise and grace made Eloo feel clumsy. She was ushered through the doors into a formal room.

Gabriella came to meet her.

“Welcome Commander, I have heard so much about you.”

Eloo was struck by her presence. She was remarkably beautiful, even by Nubilean standards. She kissed the offered hand.

“I am honoured Madam.”

“Come by the window so I may see you better. There is someone you must meet.” Gabriella put her arm around Eloo’s waist and guided her to the only other person in the room.

“Allow me to introduce Letitia. She is Commander of the escort for Bron’s reincarnation.”

The two warriors greeted each other formally, each closing her mind to the other. Letitia wore a scarf at her neck. The affectation of a court follower, not a proper warrior. Eloo dismissed her.

“All Nubileans talk of how you stood up to Bron, Madam. It must have taken great skill and courage.”

Gabriella laughed and drew slightly away but in doing so brought her hand to rest on the small of Eloo’s back. She did not move it further, retaining the pressure of deliberate contact. Its meaning was not lost on Letitia whose formal smile tightened.

“My daughter, it was nothing,” Gabriella said. “Really he is only a child, and like all children one simply calls their bluff. He would not harm me, he loves me.”

“You are easy to love madam.” Eloo said, taking a chance at flattery, hoping it did not sound totally insincere.

The hand slid down and patted her in a casual manner. But the intimate placing of this gesture left nothing unsaid as to its intention, nor did it move but lingered like an intruder, burning its presence on her body. Eloo was immediately out of her depth and suddenly nervous. Such intimacy was sexual taboo amongst the elite. No different than if she were held by a fellow warrior.

“I would like you to command one of the escort ships in Letitia’s fleet,” Gabriella said.

Letitia’s smile was frozen. The hand was the mental reference of all three. It offered, it demanded and brought enmity in doing so. Eloo side stepped out of reach.

“I do not wish to Madam.”

“This is not possible,” Gabriella said, clutching her medallion of office, annoyed at the rejection. “I offer the greatest opportunity of your career. You will rise rapidly in rank. Be a member of the court, my court. Do you understand?” She held a finger under Eloo’s chin.

“I am better at war than diplomacy Madam.”

“You make that very plain commander. And where do you wish to fight your war? The field is endless.”

“Long range interception, where Grolacks first enter.”

“Out on the boundaries of space. Beyond civilisation. Surely not?” Gabriella crossed to Letitia as if for safety. “Such a post is highly dangerous, given in punishment, not reward. Out there you are alone, we cannot assist if you are attacked.”

“I am aware Madam that the post demands total dedication.”

“Here you would have everything, including my personal patronage.”

“Just for a year,” Eloo said, trying to lessen the damage she knew already done. She felt embarrassed, awkward, not knowing how to tell the truth without disgracing herself. Forbidden love was a game, a sexual adventure made more interesting because it was illicit. Letitia submitting to Gabriella’s power so she could gain power herself. They used each other. She and Kiri had been equals, giving and taking. She had known love and suffered its loss. Now she wanted time to adjust.

“I need good commanders. Give one reason why I should let you go?” Gabriella asked.

“This last month, at the Academy, I fought in the arena many times with sword and shield, none beat me. I have been made warrior elite, but years of battle drain my spirit. I need to restore it, only then will I be of use as a leader.”

“A puritan,” Letitia scoffed. “I had no idea such people still existed.”

“Hold your tongue.” Gabriella admonished her. “The purity of Nubilean gender and spirit is what makes a warrior great. No one but Bron has ever refused Gabriella. That takes courage far greater than any battlefield.” She reached her hand to Eloo’s cheek and Eloo knew she read her mind. She tried to hide her memories of Kiri but was unable. Gabriella saw everything, but instead of disapproval there was understanding. For a moment she opened her own thoughts to Eloo and in that instant they shared a common secret.

“Very well. I give you one year. Then you must return. You will not refuse me a second time. Equals are hard to find.”

Eloo withdrew, never so happy to leave a room.

Gabriella turned to Letitia and drew a finger over her lips.

“Such jealousy my little one is very unbecoming.”

The fighter pleased Eloo. She had spent three days going over the systems and controls. It was big, heavily armed and equipped for every need.

“I’m amazed,” said the little one. “I thought fighters would be small.” She stood on the hanger deck with her offspring, all in admiration of the pristine machine.

The children had bullied Eloo into this visit, but now she was glad. She felt pride, like showing a new toy.

“It has to be large for weaponry and supplies. Also for those I might rescue. It can hold up to ten,” she said.

“Can we go inside?”

“No touching. Promise.”

“Promise,” they answered in chorus.

Eloo led them into the central passage, their mother watchful of little hands burning to put fingers where they shouldn’t.

“Medical bay, weaponry system, passenger accommodation, navigational systems.” Eloo pointed as they made their way to the bridge.

“Where’s the power?” asked the warrior child.

“Below us. Runs the full length of the ship. The fastest unit we have yet produced.”

“And what’s that?” The child pointed through an airlock.

“The pod. It also doubles as a land-cruiser. When I go down or travel over a planet’s surface, that’s what I use. Fully armed and equipped.”

“And your bed?” the little motherasked.

Eloo pushed the door to a small cabin. “Here.”

“How can you stand being alone?” She reached to put her arms around Eloo’s waist.

“A warrior is her own company. She is never alone, or so the manual informs me.”

“Written by those who live in cities.” The little one removed a pendant from her neck, a small circular blue stone on a simple cord. She reached up and placed it over Eloo’s head.

“It is a lover’s stone, given when they bond. Hold it if you are afraid or lonely, it will sing for you.”

Eloo clasped the stone and heard the sound of its low, gentle note.

“I shall keep it here where I sleep.”

“Think of me, and I will be with you.” The little one kissed her.

“Do you have a lavatory?” One of the children asked.

“I do. But yours is outside, in the hanger,” Eloo said and ushered them back along the passage.

Far through the darkness of space Eloo lay waiting for sleep. In her hand the little mother’s stone sung small melodious notes. She breathed the perfume of her own body and remembered the little one.

A box near her couch held Kiri’s stone. Sometimes she held it to her breast and let it bring tears. Alone in space she could cry without shame, unhindered by the pity of others.

She knew her time weeping over Kiri’s death would be contained, she also knew it would never go. Less than a year before, her group had left a planet in five small fighters. Two warriors split haphazardly on each ship. Ahead lay three days of space. Three days of undisturbed sleep and relaxation. Kiri came to her on the second day while Eloo lay on her couch. She sat with a look of question, fidgeting with her hands.

“What is it?” Eloo asked, concerned at her young friend’s agitation.

“I’ve known ever since we met. I saw it. I saw it in your eyes. You can’t deny it. I’ve seen that look before. Then I couldn’t, but with you, I can.”

“What in heaven are you talking about?” Eloo rose to her elbows, Kiri was staring at her as if to burst.

“Love. I love you.”

Eloo was totally unprepared. Completely thrown by Kiri’s words. She searched for a quick answer and grabbed at the military code of conduct. “We’re warriors, we may honour each other as sister, but it is unthinkable that we should.”

Kiri kissed her, stopping her words. She kissed her boldly and full-mouthed, searching with her tongue for response. Eloo went rigid. Instantly angered and afraid. She dropped back on the couch, holding Kiri’s shoulder to prevent her following. She didn’t want this. “Stop.” She tried to inject authority into her voice but the word came out more like a plea. Kiri was pressing down with all her youthful strength. The sweetness of her perfumed sweat pervading the room. To Eloo it was suddenly overpowering, like an intrusion. Something her senses had never openly been conscious of.

Kiri was determined. “I know you want to. Why hide your feelings? So much passion locked within that disciplined body of yours. All those years of suppressed emotion waiting for release. No little mother can satisfy you. But I can. Because I am your equal and that’s what you want.”

Eloo was stunned. Kiri had stripped her sexual privacy without pity and the pressure of her body now physically challenged her to face the feelings she had never allowed. She felt totally exposed. Her arms weaken, not consciously, but with the grateful acceptance of sudden revelation. Kiri showed no mercy, her lips came steadily down and Eloo accepted without reservation.

She opened herself with a zeal equal to the other’s uncompromising advance. There was no tenderness of touch, no words, just an instant exchange of hungry demand, body pressed to body, thigh to pubic mound, lips and fingers exploring, each fighting for possession of the other. The tiny ship filled with the erotic mixture of their sweat and stayed for the remaining flight.

The exchange of stones was a symbol of their bonding. They did it while on leave, on impulse. They never wore them, never made it known. Each placed her stone with their sword and shield, the representations of a warrior spirit, the stones of an illicit love.

Eloo closed her eyes and the stone sang gently while she slept.

CHAPTER 8

“Her stomach’s too tight. Can’t you find someone bigger?’’’’ Bron sat, prodding the princess who stood beside Gabriella’s chair.

“She is one of the few court virgins you have left us. Besides in pregnancy she expands, and you are very small.” Gabriella took the embarrassed girl’s hand, stroking it to comfort her. “She is called Suso. She is the daughter of your fifteenth born.”

“Well Suso, just make sure you give my last born a good time because he’s going to drop dead giving you one.”

The princess stuttered into tears and Gabriella stood to console her. “That was uncalled for. You have no right to upset the child. She is the chosen one. Your future mother. Have you no feelings?”

“Feelings, I’m trapped in her for months sucking my toes. Not much joy in that.”

“Trapped and silenced,” Gabriella hissed. “A worthy achievement. This girl will have my full support. She has to carry you. Worse, give birth to you. A burden you would not understand.”

“Don’t listen princess. I have considered your wellbeing. and have perfected a drink suitable for our troubles.” He stood and toasted her with a glass of black liquid. “When you tire of nagging old crones, when you wish to be alone with your baby, come and drink plenty of the black stuff. Drink all you can before falling down. That way I get to have a taste too.”

“Do not corrupt your future mother. The child will do no such thing.”

“She will if I ask. No-one can refuse Bron.”

“You forget you will be in her womb, under my control.”

“For only a few months and when I am reborn, and come of age, you are going to be the first in my bed.”

“I’d rather cut my throat.” Gabriella put her arms around the girl and led her from the room.

“One day death will free me from this body. One day I shall inherit my power from the crystal, and on that day I shall turn you into a neutered nymphomaniac. You’ll come begging to me Gabriella, begging.” He lifted his glass to their departure, confident that obsession with his reincarnation clouded her judgement.

Bron stood from the table as a little one entered the room. She knelt, lowering her dark eyes.

“Did you find the cadet from Letitia’s ship?” he asked.

“Yes Bron. I have her in my chamber. She believed our encounter by chance. She is pretty and I have promised her.”

“Enjoy yourself till Luki arrives. When he does, play your part and make sure she leaves with him.” Bron stroked the little one’s cheek. “I will not forget.”