Author's Notes: This is the first of a two-chapter story, which was inspired by a book I recently read (and which I will reveal at the end). All characters that are not mine belong to the owner of IP rights for Star Trek Enterprise. Hope you enjoy the read!

And yes, I still have a final chapter to write and publish on IT.

xxx

Sullo'Crep

Space.

I love it.

Love the vastness, love the stars.

Love the velveteen darkness.

Love the lack of sound.

Love the man laying between my sessic, lapping hungrily at my eueuq.

He's a warrior and I am his svall, the companion of his loins. To me the glory and pleasure of collecting his eniarg before each fight, each conquest. He deposits it forcefully, tenderly, deep into my leluj'ju, bringing from me screams of pleasure, so delicious it leaves me dizzy and breathless, clinging to one of his sessic as he readies his eueuq for another plunge.

To him the glory of the fight, the phaser, the canon, the spoils. To me the glory of making him swoon with lust, collecting all the precious enarg from his loins, coquettishly sending him glances from under half-closed eyelids that I know will inflame his loins and lead to renewed pleasure. I am at his side at all times. I will be at his side until ugly death collects her dues, and then I will let myself die. If he is not there, I do not want to be either.

Others stare at us, at me mostly, disapproving. Let them disapprove. Let them snicker under covering hands, let their eyes aim daggers, let their tongues spear me for refusing my sex and my rightful place as a soldier. I do not want to be a warrior. I have a long lineage behind me that I reject in support of this claim. I will not be a soldier endlessly fighting, easily disposable and disposed of. I will be the guardian of his nights, my only and ever-renewed conquest is him. I am forever at his disposal, in whatever way he chooses.

I have been at his side since I was plucked from the least promising youngsters to help quench his youthful needs. I would have made a mediocre soldier, instead he has made me a prized svall. That took no effort on his part. It is easy to give oneself when one is in love. I was in love the moment I set eyes on him, sweat-drenched from his latest sparring, his eye rimmed with the black of exertion. That eye made me swoon inside though I gave no sign of it. He hardly looked at me, a scrawny twig of a kid, dusty from one of those skill-building games I abhorred because of how poorly I fared. He hardly looked at me and yet I caught his sideway glance, saw a brief light of appreciation. At that moment I became his, in mind and in body, so starved was I for affection, for attention, for friendship, for companionship. All he said was, "Follow me," and I did. I would have followed him to the end of the universe.

And I have.

The first night was strange, me sleeping in the corner on a pile of covers, him sleeping in his bed in all his naked glory. Nothing happened. I did not want anything to happen. The second night was stranger yet, he hardly looking at me even though he had sent me to be bathed, to be fed, to be adorned with clothing that befitted his rank. Nothing happened. Again, I was glad. And so it went, night after night, until I felt like an afterthought in his life, until I was bursting with longing. I wanted him to look at me, I wanted to show I would be forever loyal to him. That night, I went to him.

Ever since, I have shared his couch and his dreams. And his glory. He was always the best, over time he has only become a more powerful fighter, a stronger leader. So what if his eueuq favors the inside of my thigh? He is our champion, always first in line, in raids or battles, ready to grab our due in riches before we move on to the next planet, tearing through any defenses we encounter. We are pilfering entire quadrants of space, one planet at a time. When we are done, we will rest on our home planet while another army rises in our stead, ready to start again.

xxx

The Prize

Every moon shines on a new raid. Today, we hide behind the asteroid of a new star. Tonight, our soldiers will come back to our ship bounty in tow, shuttles laden with everything they have encountered - and plundered. Each raid is different, what they bring back never the same. Some worlds yield food from trees and grasses, others rich minerals of high trading value, precious metals and objects, and then there are always the few aliens who survive our raids, once even an entire homestead.

The aliens are small things, easy for us to pick, we never encounter people our size. Never. We separate the males and the females, and laugh as we make the puny males fight us, stretching out their unavoidable demise, entertained by their abject fear and failed efforts. At least the others laugh. I have no taste for any show of the many against the one, too many times have I been the one before I was plucked to serve Selli'Cha's needs. I have even less taste for what they do to the females, subjected to a different death, even more abject and painful, bedded by warriors twice or three times their size. We do keep some aliens as slaves once in a while, if we are in need of other services they can provide, their death sentence suspended for weeks or months, perhaps days, perhaps years, until we grow tired of them. Or they die from mistreatment and we cull a next batch.

The alarm signals the return of the warriors and we all gather to stare at the cavernous shuttle hall, crewmen, svalls, and all those who do not fight. There is tension in the air, relieved as we count the shuttles streaming back to the ship. One, two, three,..., nine, ten,... fifteen... twenty! They are all back, the raid was successful, we did not lose a ship! We wait in high spirits, each of us weighing our menleader's shuttle with our eye, trying to estimate the fullness of its hold as it lands on its pad. The last shuttle steadies. We all wait in electrified silence - the first man out will be the leadwarrior, the one who won the most fights, took hold of the biggest prizes.

My eleig steps out first and my heart skips a beat. A raucous cheer rises in the hall in salute of his greatness. I bask in his glory, in his aura. He always wins. That's why the others adore him, why they unquestioningly follow his lead, and why I am not openly disrespected even though I am a svall. I drink in the sight of him along with my crewmates. I smile at him with my eye, seductively batting my eyelid to let him know the pleasures that await his rest tonight. Tomorrow we will feast and be entertained with tales of the raid, of my eleig's feats. He will laugh and boast while his eye never loses sight of me, letting me know I am in his thoughts.

But first, the bounty. The shuttles' holds are full. Slaves empty the shuttle holds and pile up the bounty on the floor of the shuttle hall, as per our custom. We all gawk and comment as the pile builds up, crates on top of crates, of animals and foods of all kinds. I spot some alien-looking devices, small rectangular boxes of no visible use. There are bushels filled with fruits that roll around on all sides, small two-footed animals, larger ones with six legs, there is enough food there until we reach the next world. And then, a large restraining crate. We know just from the look of it that that one contains an alien. The slaves' backs are rounded, that is always their least favorite part. We all joke and jostle, trying to get a glimpse of the hapless little thing inside the crate, see how ugly it is, how terrified it looks, some gauge how much of a fight it might put up... The crew exchanges puns and banter as to whom will slice it open first, and with what tool.

And then I catch a glimpse of a small alien, sitting awkwardly in that crate atop all the crates of animals and food. A female, obviously. Her clothing is soaked through. Blood, I imagine. There is something about her... Have you ever looked at a work of art and known in your bones that you must possess it, that you alone can understand its striking beauty? I saw her and I needed to have her. Not a physical need, a yearning of my soul. Is it the line of her jaw or the delicate shell-shaped ears? All I know is that she is destined to be mine, that I must have her. The odd shape of her posture only adds to the fire within my soul. A feeling fills my chest with a sweet resonance. She turns and her eyes stare at me, I can feel her bearing into my soul. I am lost to her.

I.

Must.

Have.

Her.

That is all I know. There are dark spots dancing in front of my eye. There is a low buzzing sound in my head. I am about to swoon. I look around until I catch sight of Selli'Cha, holding on to the sight of his face as to a lifeline. By our custom, the bounty must be equally shared among all warriors after the kingleader chooses his prize. He will choose the alien female, he always does, and she will die tonight or tomorrow, torn asunder from inside. I cannot let that happen. Yet I cannot claim her, I can't even buy her from the kingleader, even if I tried. Her price is beyond anything I have or have ever dreamed of owning.

But valor is a currency that can buy a share of bounty, and the leadwarrior can claim a prize before even the kingleader. My eleig has never done so, even so his feats and prowess would allow him to claim the entire bounty twice over. This would be the first time. I sidle over to him and whisper in his ear. He turns to look at me, then takes a long look inside the crate. I know he does not see the beauty in her, I know his eye stops at the ugly bruise on her forehead, at the strange twist in her side as she favors her leg.

"Do you really want her?" he whispers in my ear, his hand trailing to my bottom, his finger tantalizingly perched on the inner passage that is his alone. I know what he thinks, that I desire her carnally, that I am looking for a vessel to spill my eniarg into as he spills his into me.

I shake my head slightly, "Not in that way, no." How can I explain to him that I want her with a desire that weakens my knees but does not straighten my eueuq, that I want to possess her like one possesses a statue? I look at him, "I want her. Can I have her? Please?!" To my ears, I sound like a petulant child. Little does it matter, but that I gain what I want. He frowns at the tone, so unexpected, he's never heard me ask for anything before, other than beg for his manhood. "As a pet," I whine further, willing him to understand. Even though I know he won't.

I have never asked for anything before. That and the fact and he likes to please me bend the scale in my favor. He shrugs, "Fine!," and walks to the front of the assembly. There, he turns to stare at the crowd gathered in the hangar, "I claim the alien!" His strong voice rings through the hall, bouncing down the corridors. Everyone freezes. I look around, fearful for both my elieg and the alien. There is a hushed murmur that dies quickly. Selli'Cha's never made the leadwarrior claim before. All eyes turn to the kingleader. What is he going to say? The kingleader is as shocked as the men he leads. His eye darkens with anger, quickly smoothed over. He knows that he cannot refuse the leadwarrior claim and maintain his authority. If he violates custom, how safe is his own seat after all? Our kingleader lets his eye shine brightly again. There is no denying my elieg. He has never claimed more than his fair share of the draw, even when his skill would have earned him a much larger share.

And before I fully realize what happened, my elieg's already on his way back to me, dragging the alien by the arm, mindless of the injured leg twisting at her side. He throws her at me as if a toy to an unruly and whining child, and I gently pick her up, cradling her in the nook of my arm, trying to convey comfort and warmth. She does not move. I bend my eye towards her in a smile, hoping she understands I mean her no harm.

xxx

First Aid

I follow my elieg back to our cabin, keeping the small alien nestled in the crook of my elbow, away from the inquisitive stares and patting hands of other warriors. They like that the leadwarrior has staked a claim for his valor, want to share in his honor by seeing first hand his prize. I shoo them off, hiding her as best as I can. They don't know how to deal with her kind. Neither do I. But I know about being scared and hurt, and how a wounded animal can bite out of fear. I tell myself I am protecting them as well as her because they will kill her if she does.

Once inside our cabin, I pull out old tarps and blankets to create a bed of a kind, and deposit her gently in its center, careful of her injured leg. Even crouching I tower over her. She looks at me, unafraid. Her eyes are ugly, two tiny beads below her forehead, there is no majestic orb centering her forehead. Even that ugliness adds to her beauty. I cannot get enough of the finesse of her bones, the myriad details that emerge as I keep my eye focused on her. I look her over carefully, without touching her, checking that none of her injuries are life-threatening. She waits. At no time does she flinch or try to withdraw. I chuckle inwardly. My, this is a spirited one. I could not have chosen better if I had tried.

I would dress her wounded leg, but I do not want to be bitten. It would only take a flick to the head to kill her, I learned that from other pets as a child. I want her to understand that I, that we, are not planning to eat her - or mate with her. There are always other uses for aliens, even those as small as her. A thought crosses my mind as those two pinpoint eyes look at me. Not all aliens are barbarians, this one may not be either. I point at myself, "Sullo'Crep," then at my elieg, "Selli'Cha". We do not share names with those we eat or kill. Perhaps she will understand.

She stares back at me in silence. Once again, I feel her eyes bearing into my soul. I point to her, aware of how big my index is compared to her head, "Who are you?" I ask. She doesn't answer.

How can I explain? I repeat the gestures, hand over my chest, "Sullo'Crep" than at my elieg "Seli'Cha."

She seems to understand, closes her eyes briefly then opens them again, laying a hand flat against her chest, "Die'Pall". I almost exclaim for joy - she can speak! She will make a delightful pet once I teach her a few words. "Die'Pall?" I repeat, pointing at her. She seems taken aback, as if I have not said her name correctly. "Die'Pall," she repeats, and I repeat it after her again. She frowns slightly. I must not be saying it right.

Because our language is so much more pleasant than the harsh diphtongues she uses, I point to her instead, saying "Tokekot". That means pet in our language. I will be the first to admit I could have been more creative. But somehow it fits, and I like it better than 'slave'. She raises an eyebrow and my heart swoons at the sight. I have never seen such delicate movements. I repeat, clearly "Tokekot", again pointing at her. I have the advantage of size, it's obvious I can call her anything I like. She looks at me then inclines her head, repeating, "Tokekot". I laugh softly. That is the endearing term I will use for her. One good thing done.

She must be thirsty. I'm not sure how she takes water, but I have lost enough pets as a child to learn that water is key to keeping them alive. I shuffle over to the slop pit and bring back a saucer of water. I set it down within her reach. She looks down at it then up at me. I realize that after all, she has no idea why this is, or what my intentions are. I pick up the saucer and drink a mouthful to show her it is not poisonous. More spills on my chest than in my mouth, but I do not mind. I set the saucer down again. Still staring at me, she picks it up in turn and drinks, also only a mouthful. I would clap my hands in glee but I do not want to alarm her. Instead, I smile with my eye, wanting her to understand I am pleased.

But first, there are other things that need to be seen to. My elieg is already pulling me up by the elbow, his need clear and pressing. I follow him to the couch. It is his right and my duty to repay his gift. He makes it harsh and fast, devoid of his usual tenderness, a raw possession that brings water to my eyes. He groans as he shudders into me and I sink back into the covers, glad it is over, wanting to go back to my new pet. But my elieg reaches for the jar of h'jlou and I despair silently as I feel him spread the aphrodisiac over both of us. Too soon, his eueuq is ready again, claiming its due. Which he does, again, and again, and again.

I finally get up when he is deep into a sated sleep, hobbling to where my pet is. She is sitting with her good leg under her, the wounded one jutting out at an odd angle. I thought her asleep but she opens her eyes when I approach. At least now she must know that I did not get her in order to mate. I crouch, immense next to her, and point to her leg, to the cloth covering the wound. She nods her approval.

I get up and come back with a basin and a sponge, presenting them for her inspection. I approach her leg, careful to keep my hands soft and gentle. She does not move as I cut through the cloth to reveal a jagged wound from knee to ankle. The dark green blood is caked all over, her kneecap shows white. It is an ugly wound, one that I know will leave a limp. I cannot go to our doctors, they do not treat pets. Fortunately I have done my share of field stitching. She doesn't react when I show her the needle and thread, she seems remote, it's almost as if she wasn't there. She doesn't twitch or cry when I start the slow process, careful to keep the stitches small so the scarring will be even. I get bolder as I go on, less worried about her bite. When I am done, she is fast asleep. At least, I think she is asleep, even though I don't know how one can fall asleep under such pain.

I sit back on my haunches, looking at her features, happiness fluttering in my heart. Never before have I owned anything so fine. I look forward to going through life with my pet at my side. I am no longer alone.

xxx

Tokekot

My expectations have been met and surpassed! I held the small hope that my pet had the gift of speech, that she was not one of those barbarians who only talk in single-syllable words and grunts. And even her not talking would have been fine, I could still fill my eye with her harmonious features.

My small hope has been surpassed. What am I saying, surpassed?... It has been dashed, annihilated, to float away with the wind like a burnt cinder. My pet speaks, and she speaks fluently. She learned our language with a speed which surprises me. It only took her two weeks before she could be sent on errands to interact with the merchants and servicepeople on the ship. That's when we tasked her with doing all of our shopping. Or rather Selli'Cha tasked her, through me. He won't speak to her. I was hesitant to send her on such errands, her leg was hardly healed and she walked with a pronounced limp, but Selli'Cha insisted. There is no room on our vessel for anyone who does not carry their load, Svalls excepted, of course. It took another two weeks for her to speak well enough that we could exchange information about our people and culture. I point out something, anything, a spoon on the table, the floor panel she is painstakingly cleaning, and start. Telling her what it is called, what it is made of, how it is made. She joins in, asking questions, making me repeat words that are new to her, slowly but surely using other words to consolidate their meaning. Every day, her progress is ten-fold. Another two weeks yet again and she speaks fully and easily, able to discuss spices for the night's supper or some aspect of our culture that she is curious about. She asks many questions, and I answer most, taking pleasure in building her vocabulary and reveling in how clever she is. Overall, I do not want to give her too much information, though. She is a smart cookie, this one.

I pat myself of the back for having selected her. Our conversations are the music that rocks my days. And yet I avoid enjoying her presence too openly, lest Selli'Cha take umbrage. He hasn't said a word to her or about her, holding the pretense she is beneath his notice, her status that of slave and chattel. Whenever Selli'Cha is not in our quarters I make her stop her chores and talk to me. As soon as we hear the door chime that he is back, she bends back to her task and I retreat to our couch, randomly picking up a padd and pretending to read it, looking up in delighted surprise at my elieg's muscular body. The anticipation is not faked. Selli'Cha walks in and makes a beeline straight to me and my velvety lips, studiously acting as if he doesn't see her. But like all masters, he is awkward at pretense, and I am the one who has to pretend that I don't see the kick aimed at her as he goes by. Sometimes, he connects and she rolls and slams against the wall hard, waiting several seconds before getting up again, while I wait with baited breath, relaxing only when she finally gets up, allowing my lips only to smile at my elieg. Other times, more often now that she is familiar with him, he ends up kicking mostly empty air, brushing her as she rolls away. I can tell that by the sound she makes when she hits the wall, a soft plunk as opposed to a hard thud. Those times, the smile on my lips spreads to my eye, and I look at my elieg with genuine pleasure.

Yet I understand him, and I understand that he fears she is taking me away from him. I would like to tell him nothing could be more untrue but he would be cross at seeming threatened by a slave, a mere alien half his size. It is safer for her, and for me, to keep my peace. Eventually, he will become used to her presence, though I doubt he will ever talk to or about her.

xxx

The Story

One day, I find out why. That day, Selli'Cha leaves early, to craft an attack strategy with all the other menleaders. I'm idly playing with a kitchen knife while my pet preps vegetables. She has explained that she doesn't eat meat, though I do not understand how one can pretend to love animals and yet refuse them the end they were meant for. I am working on our ratio of nipal, helping carve it for the pot - I have noticed that the handling of meat is deeply upsetting to my pet and I am glad to take that chore off her whenever Selli'Cha is not around. As she reaches for another misshapen head of sirad, I stick my knife in it, preventing her from pulling it back. She looks at me questioningly but without fear. A part of me feels gratified, it speaks to the care with which I have gained her confidence that I mean her no harm.

"What happened between you and Selli'Cha?" I ask. It has been weeks and there is more to Selli'Cha's refusal to speak to her than a mere question of status. Or to his kicks, though they are becoming less frequent. It has taken a long time, but I finally understand that he does not like her. Or her, him.

A shadow briefly shines in her eyes. She blinks and looks at me. And I realize that I do not know anything about where she came from, or how she ended up on our ship. Most of the questions have been hers, about us. "How did you end up here?" I ask.

I am not sure what to expect, whether she will tell me her story. But she does. I supply the words she does not yet know and together we elucidate the words that do not have a meaning in my culture. But little by little her story comes out. She tells me of another ship, not as large as ours but still very large, and how on that ship she was a science menleader. I nod along, refraining from scoffing at her declaration that she was a menleader. As if females could be menleaders! But I can excuse that bit of female vanity, and I let it go. The part about being a scientist, though, I believe, she is extremely smart.

She says how her ship discovered the planet we captured her on, and wanted to "look-at-it-from-all-angles" — we do not have a word for it, but that's what I think she means. While she and her team were on the planet - I believe they were sent to plunder, they could not have simply been cataloguing the fauna and flora, their kingleader was called on to another place. At least, that's what she believes, though a simpler explanation is that their kingleader wanted to get rid of them. They agreed that the science team would stay and the ship would come back later for them. I ache at her naivete, but I do not say anything. There is the possibility after all that their kingleader did plan to return, even if I am shocked at the waste of resources. We would never do that. Leave healthy crewmembers behind to indulge in some passing curiosity? Any kingleader guilty of such wanton behavior would soon be put to death by its own eliegs...

Tokekot stops talking and I have a sudden sense of great sadness, though I do not know why or where it came from. The budding silence makes me uneasy. "You were on the planet when we raided it," I say out loud.

She seems to focus back on me, her eyes huge in her face. She resumes her story and I feel as if I was there, with her. I can almost see the geodesic dome that the scientists call home, a temporary structure nestled in the sheltering shoulder of a hillock. They have come to the conclusion there are no inhabitants on the planet. They have not way of expecting what is to come onto them.

That is us.

The morning duties have been assigned and one of the team goes out to collect some herbs. Tokekot told me about each member of her party. The scientist who goes out that day is not like her, he's from another world. His skin is the color of warm sand, and he was a cricket player in his youth. He's gone but a few minutes before they hear him shriek in agony. They all rush out to his defense.

I know then that, like me, she too is not a warrior. A warrior would have left someone behind to guard the shelter.

The scientists rush out in the open only to see Selli'Cha finish the fallen one with his lance. Tokekot lunges at him. I almost fall off my chair in shocked surprise. Selli'Cha is over twice her size standing up, and she lunges at him?! Perhaps she is not quite so clever as I thought. She does manage to hold her own though, even gets in a couple of chops, but the unavoidable happens. Selli'Cha slices her leg with his hetys, and when she goes down he follows with a quick blow to her head with the butt of his lance. Before she loses consciousness, she hears the screams of the other scientists being mowed down by our warriors.

None of her people survived, or they would have been captured and brought back. And I suddenly know without the shadow of a doubt what keeps Selli'Cha silent around her. It is the taste of failure. He didn't plan to kill all of them. Simply, they were too fragile for our blows. She comes from different stock or he would have killed her as well.

I do not speak when she finished. There's nothing for me to say, really. I could explain that Selli'Cha isn't a monster, but there's the weight of those dead aliens. My elieg is capable of great horrors, but he's not a monster. Not to me at least, never to me. As to what he is capable of doing to her... I hope he will not do that to me, his prized svall.

xxx