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A lifetime ago...

Space travel was dull. While in system the passengers had the novelty of watching the planet fall away to aft, and then occasionally the sights of other stations and worlds. Now, nothing. Anartes stared idly out of his cabin's window. The Aspatrian's eyes were half closed and unfocused, dimly registering the cargo ship in the distance. It looked like a toy left upon a silk black sheet. He shook his head and turned back to his holy book, slowly running an orange-furred digit down the page as he studied the ancient text. He knew the passages by heart; he'd read them many times. The hope that they would calm his heart and give him some peace died quickly, and he snapped the book shut with an irritated grunt. Anartes' knuckled rapped on the table as he stared at the carpet for a few moments. Then he took up his book once more, picked a page at random, and read from the middle paragraph. "A family is only as worthy as the man at its head. If a man is hard working and honours Hakra he and his family shall be held in high esteem. If the man is lazy, or speaks ill of his God, then he is no man at all and is no better than a woman." He closed the book reverently and spent a few minutes considering why Hakra had guided him to that particular passage. Was it a warning? Had he failed in his duties as the head of his family? Anartes considered trying his luck again, but remembered the words of Passage 14-5: "Do not tempt the wrath of Hakra." All would be made clear in time. The door to his chambers opened with a chime. A six year old Aspatrian boy hurried in and made straight for the bedroom, stopping only when Anartes called out. "Seanne! Come here! Tell your father about your day!" Seanne obeyed. He sat cross-legged on the floor at Anartes' feet and spoke hurridly of school. The boy was eager to show off how well he was doing, and recited a clumsy string of Drakonian syllables that he'd learned. Anartes praised his hard work and allowed the boy to go and play. Only then did he turn his attention to his wife, Eles, who stood watching from a safe distance. "Woman, make dinner. I will take a stroll of the ship." "Yes, my husband," Eles replied, making a submissive bow. Anartes took his wife by the chin and looked into her eyes. She kept her gaze averted. "This new world will be a blessing for us. We will be free from Icaran heresy; we can live as Hakra intends. In time, perhaps more of our people will join us. A new Aspatria, can you imagine?" "I cannot, my husband." Her reply made Anartes chuckle. "To think you were little more than a child whore when I found you. Did you ever imagine this? To be aboard a starship, heading for an unclaimed world, heading to establish a new colony?" Eles shook her head a fraction. "No, my husband." A playful smile spread across Anartes' muzzle. "When I return, you will humiliate yourself for me." She nodded hastily, trying not to blush. "As you wish, my husband." "Make dinner," Anartes ordered. He gently stroked her cheek, ran a finger across the fabric of her dress, and made for the corridor.

Out in the black, beyond the prying eyes of Icaran colonists, the raiding fleet lay in ambush. Brahlt was on the bridge again, despite the complaints of the captain. The grizzled soldier insisted on being at the centre of the action and, when pushed, was quick to point out that Tu'ri owned the ship so he could loiter wherever the hell he wanted. "How many ships are there?" he asked while staring at a display console as though he understood what any of it meant. "We count seven," the captain replied, irritated by his sponsor, "our fleet strength is more than enough to handle them if needs be." "Have we hailed them?" The Captain rolled his eyes. "Yes, lord. They have not responded to our encoder channels." "What does that mean?" "It means that we're going to sit here and wait for the _Voidfalx_to decide whether we hold, ransom or attack." Brahlt flinched at the statement, but kept his inner thoughts to himself. His fingers rapped a tattoo into the hilt of the sword strapped to his right hip as he waited for orders from those above him. "Well... well Fine. Whatever. Just tell me when they decide." And Brahlt left the bridge, and the Captain smirked at him every step of the way.

On another bridge, close by in galactic terms, another captain was looking worried. Captain Reed had been informed that their ship had been subjected to a targeted scan from an unknown source, and confirmations were coming in from other ships in the colony fleet. Someone was out there; someone hostile. He told the crew as much via the staff channels. "In ten minutes we will announce a routine emergency drill to occur one hour after broadcast. Reminders at fifteen minute intervals. Keep the passengers calm. In all likelihood our escort ship will be able to deal with the problem, but we must prepare for the worst. Stand by for public announcement."

Antares had found himself at the ship's bar when the announcements began. He found time for a single drink before he had to leave, and he took the long way back. Walking helped calm him; he could switch off his mind and lose himself in the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other. There were fifteen minutes left to the drill when he reached his quarters, and by then a thick knot of anxiety had formed in his chest. His mind kept conjouring images of space, stretching forever in all directions. He imagined being sucked out into it, or having to choose between the freezing black and burning alive, or being crushed by an implosion of the decks. He needed a drink. He opened the door to find Eles stood in the lounge, looking pensive. At once, Antares felt his anxiety fade, and he smiled at the memories of what he'd planned earlier. "Where is Seanne?" he asked. "In the bedroom, my husband. He is playing." Antares parted his lips a fraction and ran his tongue across his lips. "Strip!" he hissed, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard by his son. His wife obeyed, unclasping the shoulder straps on her dress and letting it fall to the floor. She wore nothing beneath; her husband forbade underwear. His fingers traced the egdge of the hourglass shaped patch of white fur that framed her breasts and stomach, and Eles looed down at her husband's erection pressing clearly against the confines of his trousers. "Turn around," Antares ordered, and fetched a set of steel handcuffs from the top drawer of the cupboard beside the door. Eles' breathing quickened as her hands were bound behind her back. Hemp rope was used to bind her ankles to a wall bracket and the sofa, leaving her spread and vulnerable in the centre of the room. Slowly, gently, Antares slipped two fingers down between his wife's legs and pushed up into her slit. She bit her lip at the sensation, and tried not to make a sound. Bound this close to the bedroom door, she was certain her son would hear if she made anything louder than a whisper. Her husband leaned in close, pressing his muzzle against her neck. "How should I humiliate you? Should I allow all the men on the ship to come and see you like this? Should I let them take turns?" He chuckled as he felt her cunt twitch against his fingers. "Should I beat you? I imagine the sound of a lash across your back would gather someone's attention," another twitch. Eles clenched her eyes shut in shame. "No... I know what you need to do." He bound her muzzle shut with a short length of rope and pulled it up and around the light fixture, leaving her staring at the ceiling. "Do you need to piss, woman? Clench your fists twice for yes." She obeyed. "Good. Seanne! Come here!" Eles' eyes snapped wipe open. The door hissed and she squirmed against her bonds, whimpering in shame. Seanne looked on in bemusement. "Seanne, go fetch the big pan from the kitchen and place it between your mother's legs." The boy obeyed. "Now watch her shame herself." Antares stepped around in front of his wife, his clothes removed and erection twitching in anticipation. Eles knew not to linger, and the Aspatrian male masturbated to the sight of his wife pissing into the pan. Seanne was unsure where to look, finding the experience both unsettling and yet strangely appealing. When Eles finished, Antares took his son's hand and brought it to her crotch. "Put your fingers inside her. That's right, like that. Push them as deep as you can. Wriggle them a little. See how she squirms? How does it feel?" "Slimy," Seanne said. His father let out a loud belly laugh. "Women are liars," he explained. "If I let her speak, Eles would plead with you to stop. Yet her cunt is wet, showing that she wants to please us. That is all women exist for; the pleasure of men." The lesson of how to pleasure women continued, and Seanne dutifully probed his mother's genitals under direction of his father. He was taught to find her G-spot and how to tease her clit. When Eles' climax squirted out into the carpet, Antares removed the gag and purred into her ear, "what do you want, woman?" "I want to serve my purpose, my husband!" Eles gasped. "And what is that purpose?" "To pleasure you, to serve you, to obey you, my husband." She felt a cock tip press against her labia. "Then look at your son and tell him what a whore you are while I fuck you." Seanne watched, confused yet strangely enamoured by the acts playing out before him. His mother moaned and gasped with every thrust into her cunt, all the while gasping out religious dogma and calling herself a whore. With a sharp yelp Antares filled her with his seed and held her close as his orgasm left him shivering from head to toe. "My good little whore," he purred. "If you want to cum again, beg your son to pleasure you." The emergency drill had started, but no-one in the quarters cared any more. Antares collapsed into an arm chair and watched with perverse amusement as Eles begged and pleaded for her boy to give her another orgasm. Only then, when she was utterly spent from two more climaxes did he untie her and allow her to dress.Though her face was red from shame and her ordeal had left her out of breath, Eles found the strength to offer her husband a shy smile before retiring into the kitchen; there were other wifely duties awaiting her there.

They came like sharks in murky waters, gliding in toward their pray in careful, almost lazy motions. At point blank range the raiders changed tactics, firing up engines, powering shields and hammering the Icaran colonists with all they had. The escort cruiser took the brunt of the fire. It turned to fight, only to be confronted by four heavy ships of the Kyyreni raiding fleet. The smaller, lighter ships sped past, offering little more than a cursory volley as they singled out their prey. The Wraithblade_was one of those ships. A lightning bruiser, the attack ship was well suited to switfly overwhelming isolated targets. Her prey was an unarmed vessel, a pleasure craft as far as the Kyyreni could tell._Wraithblade pulled alongside, finding and latching onto a docking hatch on the port flank. A curosry defence attempt did little to halt the attackers; the Kyyreni were aboard.

"Attention all passengers and crew, this is the bridge. The ship has been boarded. Repeat, the ship has been boarded. All passengers are advised to stay in their quarters. Do not attempt to engage the intruders. Stay in your quarters and stay calm. Help is coming." The announcement left Antares and his wife in stunned silence. Seanne looked to his father, too young to truly understand, and asked him what the speaker voice meant. "We have to stay in our room, son," Antares answered quietly. "Don't be frightened. Everything will be fine." The assurances served only to frighten the boy further. Eles came in from the kitchen area and sat down hastily beside her husband. "What will happen to us?" "I don't know," he said, trying to keep the tremble of fear from his voice. Minutes passed, dragged into hours by fear and uncertainty. Antares paced, pausing at every sound, real or imagined. From somewhere in the corridor came a low pop, like a generator misfiring, and people began to scream. Then there footsteps, hurried and disorganised. Another pop, closer now, and someone shrieked. The footsteps stopped outside the door and something thumped against the wall. "They're outside!" Antares hissed. He ran to Seanne and grabbed the child by the arm. One hand closed over the boys muzzle to stop him crying out. "You need to keep quiet! You need to hide! There are very bad men out there!" He bundled the boy into a wardrobe and shut the door. "Stay in there! Don't come out until I tell you it's safe!" The door to the quarters opened. Through the door came a rough-featured creature covered in corn-yellow fur and tan-coloured fatigues. It carried a bullpup firearm and a belt of grenades. It locked eyes with Antares and took aim with its weapon. The invader spat a series of harsh sounds and waves its gun toward the door. Eles came at him with a steaming pan in her hands. The alien shrieked as its face was splashed with boiling water and its staggered, blinded, and began to fire wildly. "Eles!" Antares cried his wife's name as she toppled over onto her back. Instinct took over; he fled to his son's hiding place as more bullets ripped the air. Something heavy struck him between the shoulder blades and left him crumpled on the bedroom floor. "Seanne... Seanne! You have to... you have to run, Seanne!" he crawled to his feet as his boy came out of hiding. It was suddenly getting hard to breathe. A hand closed around Antares' throat and hauled him backwards. He caught sight of the intruder, his eyes bloodshot. He was stood over Eles, who lay on her back on the floor. Her eyes were wide open. Her chest was still. She wasn't moving. She was dead. The revelation hit Antares hard enough to knock him off his feet. His captor was shouting at him, but his legs wouldn't work. He couldn't breathe anymore, and he had lost the urge to try. "Seanne... I'm sorry..."

The losses were unfortunate. Brahlt's men had taken most of the passengers and crew alive, but every kill represented a signifcant loss in returns. He was not without empathy, but he could not afford failure. "What's the makeup of our takings, Axol?" Axol, Houseguard to the Knight-Lord, poured over the data slate in his hand. "Prisoners are nearly three thousand bald ones, around a thousand reptiles, and then a few others. About a hundred felines; thirty or so grey-skinned tall things and the pup. We're keeping most of them on ship here, in communal areas. Only a skeleton crew will remain on the Wraithblade to get her home." "The pup?" Brahlt asked. "There was a family of orange-furred aliens. Only three of them. The adults died. The child's the only living specimen." "Go get him," Brahlt ordered. Axol nodded, but sent lackeys to fetch the child instead. Seanne was brought before Brahlt and his men, wet eyes and trembling in fear. "I will take him back to the ship with me. Axol, I name you as Prize Captain. We will keep the boy as our own." "There will be challenges to your claim of him." Brahlt shrugged. "Let them challenge."