In any event, it’s a highly controlled substance that would fetch a fortune on the black market, making this small ship is our best catch so far. To be honest, the fuel rods alone make it worth the risk of grabbing. Inverted risk verses reward situations are my favorite. Why risk getting a scratch on my proud vessel if I don’t have to?
Coming gracefully to my feet, I command, “Pull the ship into our cargo hold. I want to get a look at the human beast. Perhaps he is capable of being taught to load and unload cargo for a while. If not, the slave markets will fetch a tidy price for such a rare specimen.”
Lehar sounds off, “Yes, sir. Retracting target now.”
I watch the vessel grow larger in my view screen. It’s difficult to feel a true sense of pride at such an easy victory, yet somehow, I manage it. Or maybe that’s avarice. I’m no good at identifying my own emotions, since I seem to have so few of them to bother with. Emotions are for the weak.
Smoothing down the baroque seam on my resplendent uniform, I tuck my wings neatly behind me and stroll off the bridge to inspect my newfound treasure.
I won’t know for sure exactly how valuable this haul is until our crew takes the vessel apart. My feet are always a little lighter after a successful clandestine operation. Even my caudal is twitching with anticipation.
Stepping into the loading bay access corridor, I watch through the viewing window as the ship floats in through the huge bay doors and is lowered gently to the floor. I’m gratified to see the crew is careful with my merchandise. It takes a few moments to re-pressurize the bay and flood it with sanitation microbots. I use the time to look over my new prize. She’s nothing to look at, but since I plan to strip her bare and disassemble the craft, appearance has little meaning.
When the shiny metal door slowly slides up to allow entrance, I momentarily admire my handsome continence in the reflective surface. The Hielsrane clan is littered with strong handsome males, but it is a well-known fact that I am head and shoulders above the rest. Though I haven’t shifted into my dragon form for many lunars, the blood of a true dragon warrior runs in my veins. Females want to claim me for their own and males all desire to be more like me. It’s not my fault the Drakon are so highly revered or that I am feared and adored in equal measure among the beings of this sector.
The open door distracts me from my own magnificence. There is loot to sort and stow away in my holds. Striding into the bay, I approach the warrior in charge of securing and maintaining my various acquisitions.
“Greetings and salutations, Grondonolan. The preliminary scans revealed chromite and fuel rods. Did your targeted scans reveal anything else of value?”
“A close scan reveals the being inside is a female.”
Barely able to contain my glee, erotic images float through my mind. “A human female is a rare find. The communi-channels are brimming with new studies that suggest that most of them are brooders.”
“I’m aware. Once we got her aboard, we were able to run a limited medical scan. She has an intact reproductive system and appears to be of brooding age.”
“My sire’s primary mistress is a human female.”
“I’ve heard they are creatures of delicate beauty.”
“Oh, they are, my friend. Alana has beautiful smooth skin as dark as the night sky. Her jewel encrusted strands of hair are soft and smell like heaven. She’s sweet, obedient and practically worships my crusty old scale of a sire.”
“He is Drakon Prime, sir.”
“As am I, Grondonolan. Bring this dark quivering beauty before me, in order that I might see her with my own eyes.”
Gesturing to my assistants, the smartly uniformed warriors quickly pop the door on the ship and clamber aboard. After some time, more males climb aboard. It worries me that it takes so many warriors to bring the human out. Running my hands through my hair, I stare at the door of the small craft. My dragon stirs, sensing this situation is harbinger of bad things to come. I pace back and forth, impatient for my first glimpse at the delicious creature. Her life is in my hands. I can keep her to warm my bed or sell her on for a nice profit. Of course, I’m only pretending to myself there is a choice. Tarion of the Hielsrane has never been one to choose personal comfort over profit. Therefore, no matter how delectable the gentle little brooder is, she will be sold off to the highest bidder.
Disappointment wars with amusement when I see that what my crew drags off the small ship is no brooder. She is human all right, but she’s neither a dark beauty nor docile. She is wearing the garb of a prostitute and not filling the costume out very well. What’s more, she’s fighting like a feral animal. My poor crew is forced to pull her out using catch poles around her neck and on each wrist. Stepping closer, I see what the problem is. She’s wearing a slave collar. Clearly, she is not fertile enough to be a brooder and is being used as a comfort slave instead.
Unable to contain my amusement at the hilarity of the situation, I cackle with laughter. “Calm yourself, harlot. You are now the property of Tarion of the Hielsrane.”
Tossing her long stringy hair back out of her face, she snorts derisively. “I’ve never heard of you.”
“Impossible. The Hielsrane name is whispered in every corner of the verse. We are feared and revered for our courage and daring in the face of insurmountable odds.” Putting my hands on my hips, I spread my wings in a display of absolute dominance. “I am
