I am alone.
Flanagan
“I am leaving,” Alby tells me.
“Why?”
“Your work issss done. You will now decline and die. Your adventuring dayssss are over.”
“Not necessarily.”
Alby considers my statement.
“One lasssst adventure, Captain Flanagan?”
“One lasssst adventure,” I tell him, in gentle mimicry.
There is a long, flickering silence.
“Then, with your permissssion, I shall sssstay and watch…!”
Harry
Kalen is brushing my fur. She yanks and tugs at the knots, and in a series of long gentle sweeps, she turns my angry Loper mane into a smooth silky flow.
“What will you do?” she asks.
“Settle on Kornbluth, I suppose. The DRs are all deactivated. The humans will need help getting used to life without the Earth Beacon. I could help in that.”
“I thought I might go home.”
“To your home planet? Persia?”
“I need to spend more time with my people.”
“Your people are scattered through space. Besides, you aren’t sociable.”
“They are my people!”
“Cat people hate other cat people. It’s a well-known fact.”
“Except when we’re in heat.”
“You’re lucky. You can easily pass for pure human.”
“Why would I want to?”
“Fair point.”
“Just because I haven’t got fur and a tail like you. Doesn’t make me one of them.”
“Hey, don’t be racist.”
“I can smell the desire on you.”
“Can you?”
“Pure humans can’t smell emotion as we do. They exist flatly. They can’t smell, they can’t even see the future.”
“You can see the future?”
“I can see a future.”
“Does it involve me?”
“Intimately.”
“Are you in heat?”
“No. But I’m not a slave to my biology.”
“Ah. Right. You realise I may scratch?”
“If you scratch, I’ll bite.”
“Brush a bit lower.”
“Like this?”
“Now stroke my fur.”
“Like this?”
“Like that.”
“This bit isn’t furry.”
“Oh that’s nice. Oh! Oh yes! Now, let me stroke you.”
She unzips. I touch her.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!”
“Is that good?”
Kalen
Miaow.
Lena
I am wallowing in self-pity and rage. He sees my expression, and smiles his superior, arrogant smile.
“Why the sour face?” Flanagan asks me.
“I’ve just been thinking back,” I say. “On our time together. All the lies you’ve told. You’ve kept so much from me.”
“It was the only way.”
“We were meant to be working together. I was your leader.”
“Of course.”
I glare at him, angrily. “You’re a lying bastard manipulator. I was never your leader,” I tell him.
“No.”
“That was a sop. To keep me happy. I gave orders to the pirate crew. You gave the real orders when my back was turned.”
“Yup.”
“You’ve played me for a fool.”
“Pretty well.”
“And the sex?”
“What about the sex?”
“Was that another sop?”
“It would have been tactless to say no to you. But hey, I enjoyed it.”
“You ‘enjoyed’ it. Ah.”
“Yup. It was great.”
“It was ‘great’. Faint praise.”
“It was fabulous, Lena.” He smiles at me. In his roguish way.
I slip off my dress. I stand before him naked. I can see the gleam in his eyes. I do have some effect on him. He reaches out and tries to touch me, but I won’t let him. I gesture for him to undress and he does.
We stand, a few feet apart, both naked. He is erect. I am magnificent. But I see a faint trembling whisper on his lips. He is already thinking ahead to what he is going to do after he’s fucked me.
I hit him in the chest. His heart stops.
Flanagan gurgles and sinks to his knees. I stare into his eyes and see fear and longing and hate.
I strike him again and his heart restarts. Then I mount him.
We fuck. He is full of the crazed frenzy that is so typical of those who have died and been brought back to life. He is a man possessed, a man redeemed.
Afterwards, he trembles in my arms, but I keep my fingers on his manhood. Every time I squeeze he has another orgasm. He has no idea how I am doing this and it makes him fearful.
“How was it?” I ask.
“So so,” he tells me. But his voice is trembling.
“Flanagan, I think I love you.”
“I doubt that,” he says. He looks faintly shifty.
