She was dancing on the table again, only this time, it was for Vin Simlock, Emperor of planet Toulin. Seeva flexed into a back bend, then gyrated up, one sensual vertebra at a time.

“Very nice,” Simlock said. He assessed her body with gray eyes that looked as steely as fortunium ore. He trailed a ring-encrusted finger along a stretch mark that ran across Seeva’s stomach like a thin, silver thread.

“She’s proven,” he said, looking at Cornelius, the proprietor of the establishment, for confirmation. “Complications?”

“None, whatsoever. She’s spawned two marvelous offspring, and I’m sure she’ll do as well for you, sir.”

“What is her origin?”

Cornelius answered after some hesitation. “She is Jerubian.”

Simlock’s brow folded into a scowl.

“Don’t worry,” the proprietor added, “she no longer practices the immoral Jerubian tradition of love.”

“Good.” Simlock grunted. “That will be the downfall of the Jerubians, you know. They spawn for love, not for biological match. A beautiful woman mated to a powerful man is the Toulin way.” He gestured to his own body. “And it yields superior results, as you see.”

“Yes, it does sir. You are quite correct.”

“Fine then,” Simlock said, clapping his hands. “Load her onto my ship.”

Seeva smiled, curtsied, then let herself be led away by two men wearing Toulin military uniforms. This would be her most important coupling to date. A consort who produced an emperor’s spawn could look forward to a life of privilege.

Seeva imagined wearing gowns made from rare Toulinian goss, a fabric so fine that it caressed the skin like the wings of a fluttershin. Her mouth watered at the thought of tasting quabba, the succulent sweet-tart fruit that grew abundantly in the jungles of Toulin. All this, and more, would be hers soon.

But first, she would have to please Simlock. That shouldn’t be difficult. Like all Jerubian women, Seeva had the gift of contortion -- the only aspect of being Jerubian she appreciated. Seeva had no time for Jerubian men and their ridiculous notions of love. She had tried their way once, with no success.

An explosion of sparks and dust rumbled through the hangar just as the entourage approached Simlock’s ship. The air grew thick with choking, acrid smoke, making vision next to impossible. Seeva’s guards pushed her to the ground. They flanked her with their weapons drawn. The sounds of yelling and weapon fire filled the air.

The action seemed to be behind her, so Seeva decided to slither up the ramp to the safety of Simlock’s ship. Just as she reached the threshold, she felt someone grab her by the arm and pull her to her feet. Through the smoke, she saw his face. She hoped she was wrong, but inside, she knew it was him – the real reason she left Jerubia.

“What are you doing here, Talis?” Seeva asked, attempting to free her arm.

Talis pulled her down the ramp, over the prostrate bodies of her guards.

“I’m here to save you.”

 

 

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