I want to be closer to Tyrant. I want to thank him for saving me. I want…
“Oh FUCK!”
The floor opens up beneath me and I find myself falling through it. It’s a good ten feet down, which is several more feet than I really wanted to find myself tumbling into a gooey, bloody scene of battle.
“Ooff!”
Tyrant catches me in his arms, responding to my screams with more gallant rescue.
“Don’t worry,” he says, far too brightly for a creature covered in the guts of another creature. “You’re perfectly safe.”
But I’m not.
I didn’t know creatures like that existed, animals capable of breaking through the hull of a warship with their mouths. It is terribly frightening to think that there are probably hundreds, if not thousands, if not tens of thousands of animals of various kinds who want to destroy me.
What if Tyrant isn’t there to save me the next time something comes for me? All of a sudden, I feel the vastness of creation extending out all around me. I am a tiny point in the middle of it, and out around me at various distances and depths are monsters beyond my imagination.
“Sire! The human has to stop making holes in the ship!” Terrible has followed me down through it. Unlike the first time I destroyed the ship, King Tyrant doesn’t seem to mind the general destruction. I guess there’s already so much damage, what does one extra little hole matter?
I have to get back to work, immerse myself in the numbers, pretend that I am safe. When I’m working, I don’t think about the vastness of a hostile universe. I don't think about anything besides the numbers.
“Can you take me back to my office, please? I’d like to get some work done.”
Finally, I’ve said something Terrible approves of.
“Yes, sire, let me return the human to her working quarters.”
“Very well. I will see you soon, Tania. Be mindful to eat. You are not a robot.”
“I know. Thank you,” I smile nervously.
Terrible escorts me back to the safe little womb-like pink office, though the flimsy walls which I was thrilled to be able to walk through less than an hour ago, now freak me out. This ship is like one big potential marshmallow snack. Anything could potentially move through it, burrowing away until it finds me.
“What’s the largest space animal?”
Terrible seems caught off-guard by the question.
“Why are you asking that, human?”
“I am just wondering if there is anything so large it could just eat this whole ship, and swallow us, and I’m wondering if that already happened and we just don’t know it.”
“You’re babbling, human. Do your accounting.”
He nudges me through the final veil and I am relieved to see my work set out before me.
Tyrant
The human disappeared before I could ascertain how impressed she was with my slaying of the mantid. I did it to defend her. I saved her life, and yet she simply disappeared from view, back to the work she is here to do. I feel a certain anticlimactic depression. Battle should be celebrated. Victories should be celebrated. I almost kissed her when she was in my arms, but there was something about the expression on her face. It was fear. She was afraid of the Mantid, and perhaps even me.
Now she’s working, entirely focused on those damn books. I never thought I would be jealous of a series of ledgers and numbers. They have the human’s attention, and I do not. Perhaps she is trying to please me with her work, but I want more than her work. I want her admiration, her adoration. I want to see her human gaze lit with desire. I want to hear her voice husky, as it was the day I implanted the translator.
5 The Lovers
Tyrant
The human is working excessively hard. From my understanding, these creatures need to sleep a minimum of eight hours a day, but she barely seems to sleep three or four before she is diving back into my records, cross checking them, asking questions, and compiling short form reports to support certain applications.
I cannot forget how her flesh felt wrapped tight around my finger. I cannot get the image of her two very different apertures displayed before me, one tight and reluctant, the other wet and willing.
I am King Tyrant, and I take what I want. What I want are the slick delights which lie between her thighs. I am drawn to this human, though she has none of the traits of a proper war bride. She does not have any scaling to speak of, no protective armored surfaces which keep her womb shielded from enemy attacks. She is diminutive in stature, and would no doubt produce short, fleshy offspring. She is of a lesser species, and a lesser profession within that species.
And yet I find myself watching her for long hours, gazing at her through the wall which may appear solid to her, but is as transparent to me as an absence of wall would be.