Chapter 16: Gilded Cage

“Still no contact from the Landslide?” Korbaz asked, leaning over the holographic table as she examined the crawler’s last known location.

“No, Admiral,” the Crewmaster replied. He seemed on-edge, his tail whipping back and forth behind him as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. She had to admit that recent events had shaken her own confidence, too, something that she had previously considered to be unwavering.

“Vitza,” she continued, the engineer straightening when he heard his name called. “You contacted the Landslide’s engineer prior to them falling out of contact, correct?”

“Yes, Admiral,” he replied.

“What was their problem? Was it anything that might prevent them from sending out a signal?”

“N-no,” he mumbled, shaking his head as his eyes darted towards the carpet. “The Landslide was reporting issues with their drive train. That wouldn’t have impacted their electronics or their communications systems in any way, at least that I can think of.”

“Can we assume that the aliens are somehow responsible?” the Crewmaster asked. “Though I cannot imagine how. We know where their convoys are, our forces should have reached the crawler long before they could have.”

“We’ll know soon enough when the convoy that we dispatched from the Hurricane arrives,” Korbaz added. “Now, I fear that they may be marching into a slaughter.”

“Should we pull them back?” the Crewmaster suggested, Korbaz exhaling a sigh of exasperation as her eyes scanned the three-dimensional map.

“We must learn what has happened to the Landslide,” she said, “it is too large an asset to simply abandon. If we lose a second crawler...”

“This situation is getting out of hand,” the Crewmaster grumbled. “Our strategy was to keep the interlopers on the defensive, to slow their advance, yet we find ourselves reacting to surprise after surprise.”

Korbaz glanced up at him, baring her sharp teeth in anger.

“Do you have a more successful strategy that you would like to put forward, Crewmaster?”

He picked up the disdain in her voice, his ears flattening against his head defensively.

“I would never question your authority, my Admiral.”

“But?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.

“Nothing, Admiral,” he mumbled as he bowed his head. “I will carry out whatever orders you give to the letter.”

“Good,” she replied.

“Have you had any luck with the prisoner?” he added, pivoting the conversation. “The reinforcements will be arriving tomorrow, and your orders were to dispatch them to launch a second offensive against the convoy as soon as they were fueled and loaded. But without knowing more about the enemy tanks, and with the Landslide unable to provide fire support, I fear that we may have to postpone the attack.”

Korbaz drummed her claws on the edge of the table impatiently, her mind racing. It was all falling apart. The tighter her grip, the more grains of sand seemed to spill through her fingers. She had to regain control, and fast, or the Matriarch would hold her solely responsible for this fiasco. Assuming that the aliens didn’t appear out of the ether to put a slug between her eyes first...

“I need a little more time,” she said, wheeling around and marching towards the exit. “Have the prisoner brought to my quarters, I will present him with an offer that he cannot turn down.”

Cooper was well into his third rendition of ‘Amazing Grace’, keeping the beat by kicking the bars of his cell with his prosthetic foot. The unfortunate guard who had been posted outside had the patience of a saint, at least as far as Rask went, his ears flattened against his head as he kept watch just beyond the door. His furry tail was waving back and forth, a gesture that Cooper now recognized as one of irritation.

“Hey!” he finally shouted, giving his bars another loud kick. The clang of metal made the alien jump, the creature turning to peer at him with eyes that could only be described as overflowing with loathing. “I’m hungry, cunt.”

“You will be fed when it is time to be fed,” the Rask sneered, resuming his silent vigil.

“I want steak, medium rare,” Cooper said as he leaned on the bars. “Some roast potatoes, heaps of sauce, red and brown. A pint of lager wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“You will get the leavings from the kitchen, and you will be grateful for it,” his guard muttered. “It is more than you deserve...”

“I said I was hungry!” Cooper repeated, lurching back as the alien slammed his massive hands against the door. It rocked in its frame, dust raining down from the ceiling.

“Sit down and be quiet,” he hissed, his feline pupils dilated into black saucers. “If the Admiral had not forbidden it upon pain of death, I would open this door and pluck that irritating tongue from your head with my own claws.”

He flexed them, their sharp points scraping against the iron bars, as though imagining what he wanted to do with them. They were interrupted as a pair of soldiers came around the corner, the aliens barking orders at the guard, who snapped back into his place beside the door like a rubber band. They approached the cell, two Rask clad in the usual blend of leather and armor, one of them unlocking the door with a clunk.

“It’s about time,” Cooper said, offering his arm to the nearest alien. “Tell the Admiral she’s free to put the moves on me as long as I get some more of that pale meat, you know, the one that tastes like turkey.”

“Silence,” his captor said as he was guided out of his cell. “The Admiral has other plans for you today.”

They hauled him up into the prefabs, but rather than stopping at the dining hall, they continued on through the adjoining buildings. At the far end was one final door, the panel sliding aside to reveal what looked like an upscale apartment. It was decorated with the usual silken drapes in shades of purple, cascading down the walls, meeting in the center of the ceiling to give the impression that the occupants were standing inside a giant silk tent. There was an ornate chandelier that cast a dim glow, swaying gently with the motion of the crawler. This place was so big that he sometimes forgot that they were always moving. The carpet was thick and fluffy, like animal hide, soft and pleasant beneath his prosthetic foot. The furniture was all carved from dark wood, the low tables strewn with empty vials and the remnants of feasts. Off to the right was a shower cubicle that looked out of place amidst the alien fineries, likely a feature that they had kept from the original prefab.

Occupying the center of the room was a bed of immense proportions. He had seen apartments with less floor space than that mattress. It was covered in a rat’s nest of pillows and sheets, much like the piles that the crew liked to relax in. The headboard was exquisitely carved with hunting scenes, it was all so damned elaborate. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that these were the Admiral’s personal quarters.

He felt a knot in his stomach as he glanced to his left, noticing what looked like a new addition. It was a distinctly human-sized cage that had been spot-welded from iron bars, much like the door to his cell.

“What do you think?” a voice behind him asked, Cooper turning to see Korbaz standing in the doorway with a satisfied grin on her face.

“It’s gaudy, tasteless,” he replied defiantly. “I think you guys would get along well with the Persians.”

“Having no idea who you’re referring to, I will take that as a compliment,” she replied as she stepped past him. “These are my quarters, a luxury afforded only to those of the highest rank.”

“You must be very proud,” he muttered, “if only all Rask could have access to showers.”

“Oh, don’t be vulgar,” she muttered. “And look, there’s even a place for you,” she added as she gestured to the cage. “I had Vitza whip up some accommodations that were more suited to your station.”

She spoke to the guards in her own language, and they released him, shoving him into the room as they closed the door behind him.

“So, what is it today?” he asked, beginning to wander around the prefab. He inspected the décor, lifting a wooden carving from one of the tables. It seemed to depict some kind of alien animal, a stag-like creature with branching horns. “I’d tell you that you were wasting your time, but that seems to be your hobby.”

“All in good time,” she replied, taking a seat on the end of the bed and crossing her long legs. “I realized today that you haven’t been allowed to bathe since you arrived. It’s hot below deck, and we plucked you from the midst of a battle, you must be itching for a wash.”

“What’s the catch?” he asked, eyeing the glass shower cubicle warily.

“No catch,” she replied, spreading her furry hands innocently. “Help yourself to my shower, I trust that you know how to operate it?”

She watched him with a smile on her face as he began to undress, perhaps expecting him to show some kind of reservation or embarrassment. In truth, bathing in full view of other people was completely routine, all of the showers on UNN ships and installations were communal. As he stripped off his pressure suit, her smile wavered. This was the first time that she had seen the full extent of his injuries.

All down the right side of his body, large patches of his skin had been replaced with a black, flexible polymer that mimicked its functions as closely as possible. It made him look like he had been splashed with liquid latex, the material flexing along with his body as he moved.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, setting the garment on the silk cushion of a nearby stool. “Never seen someone with all their skin burned off before?”

“I ... must admit that I have not,” she muttered. There was no disgust in her eyes, however. She almost seemed awed by the sight, her gaze lingering on his battle-scarred torso.

“Lost a few organs, too,” he added as he pointed to his waist. “Kidney, liver, lung.”

“What causes those kinds of injuries?” she asked.

“A Bug breaching weapon,” he replied. “They ripped open my Kodiak with superheated plasma, took out the right side of my body in the process. My dad always told me that joining the Navy would cost me an arm and a leg, but I never thought he meant it literally.”

“Human medicine is one aspect of your society that I have never disparaged,” she continued, watching him step out of his underwear. “It is truly astounding what one can survive when one has access to technology such as yours.”

“Yep,” he replied, stepping inside the cubicle and examining the control panel. “Third-degree burns are a bitch to heal. It’s easier to just replace the skin.”

“Do those patches of ... replacement skin have all the properties of the original?” she asked. “Do they sweat? Do they warm as though they were alive?”

“They don’t sweat, no,” he replied. “But I didn’t lose enough of my hide for that to be a problem.”

After tapping at the control panel for a minute, a stream of cool water began to pour over him, Cooper angling his face into it. It felt good to wash away all the sweat and grime of the last few days. He felt Korbaz’s eyes on him the whole time, and while he was well aware that she never acted altruistically if it didn’t benefit her in some way, he was willing to play along for the moment.

“What’s this?” he asked, lifting a bottle from a shelf. It wasn’t of human origin, it was a glass vial that was plugged with a cork, the liquid within a milky white in color.

“Soap,” she replied, leaning back on her bed as she observed him through the rapidly misting glass. He removed the cork with a pop, fumbling with it as he attempted to upend some of it into his palm, holding it between his fingers awkwardly.

“Would you like some help?” she added, flashing a grin at him as he shot her a glance through the glass. “You don’t have to do anything for me in return,” she added hastily, “you just look like you could use it.”

“I’ll get on fine,” he grumbled, setting the vial back on its shelf. He began to rub the concoction into his hair, creating a lather.

“That’s my favorite scent, you know,” Korbaz added. “It’s made from a flower that grows around the oases in the dune sea, very hard to come across. I’ve been told that it smells like lavender, an Earth plant.” She waited for a response, but none came, so she continued on. “I do so wish that you would reconsider.”

“Reconsider what?” he asked as he spread the foam across his torso.

“I truly believe that our way of life has so much to offer a human. Yes, I want information,” she admitted with a roll of her feline eyes. “But more than that, I now burn with the desire to discover what motivates you, what compels you to be so stubborn.”

“All you really want is to ‘beat’ me,” Cooper muttered as he began to rinse his hair under the flow of water. “You want to get your way because that’s all you know. Having someone defy you, deny you, I’ll bet that shit drives you up the bloody wall.”

“Maybe,” she replied, her smile faltering for a moment. “Though saying that I only want victory is oversimplifying things. The word ‘defeat’ does not have the same meaning to the Rask as it does to a human. There’s no direct translation in your language, but to us, it also means ‘submission’. To be conquered is also to submit to one’s enemy, is it not?”

“I suppose,” Cooper grumbled. “What of it?”

“When we fight for status within a pack, to lose is also to submit, to allow oneself to be ruled completely by another. As much as there is pleasure in victory, in imposing your will on the defeated, there is also a different kind of pleasure to be found in letting yourself be taken. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Again, he didn’t answer, but Korbaz was not deterred.

“To dominate fills one with fire,” she sighed, staring up at the ceiling as though reminiscing. “The exertion of the fight, the rush of adrenaline, you feel it coursing through your blood like burning venom. To pin down your defeated opponent, to feel your sweat-drenched skin gliding against theirs as their struggling ceases, and they submit to you utterly...” She wet her lips with her prehensile tongue, her cheeks warming. “It is one of the most intense experiences that life has to offer.”

“If you say so,” Cooper replied, putting his back to her as he washed his face. “Sounds to me like you need to be on some kind of registry, but who am I to judge?”

“There is another pleasure,” she said, glancing around the room as though about to admit some terrible secret. “Where one burns, the other smolders. Where one fills you with vigor, the other saps your strength. Losing a bout is not so terrible a thing, you see,” she continued. “To give oneself up completely to the will of another, to embrace their burning passion without reservation, without fear ... it can be so liberating. Tell me,” she added, those amber eyes playing up and down his nude body as she watched him through the glass. “Do you not find such an idea ... seductive? Are you not curious about where those wild winds might carry you if you were to simply unfurl your sails?”

“There was this girl I dated for a few months,” he replied, fiddling with the water pressure for a moment. “She used to like tying my wrists to the headboard with a belt while we fucked. Wasn’t really my bag.”

“What?” Korbaz asked, cocking her head at him.

“I’m saying that this isn’t some grand revelation,” he continued, “it’s not like we don’t have S&M clubs back on Earth where you can pay some crazy chick in a leather catsuit to whip your balls with a riding crop and call you a dirty boy.”

“What ... are you talking about?” she grumbled. She shook her head as if trying to dislodge his nonsense from her ears. “I know that you have a weakness for women, Cooper. I’ve seen it, I’ve heard it in the beating of your heart, I’ve smelled it on your skin. I also know that your own women are small, frail, that our experience of sexuality is far more intense than anything that your kind could comprehend. I thought that if you declined my offer to make you the honorary Alpha of a pack, to give you a willing harem to do with as you pleased, then perhaps you might be tempted by a different flavor of pleasure.”

She leaned back on the bed, uncrossing and crossing her legs, her muscular thighs straining against the clinging leather.

“Give me what I want, and you can join me in my bed. I’m no Polar, but I can be gentle, considerate. I can ease you in slowly, we can explore at your own pace, together. What do you say?”

“The answer will always be ‘no’,” he replied, shutting off the water and stepping out of the shower cubicle. She glared at him, unaccustomed to rejection, her yellow eyes dripping with malice. “Got a towel?”

“You’ll soon dry off in this heat,” she said, rising to her feet with a creak of her mattress. She strode across the room and took him by the shoulder, marching him over to the iron cage. She swung open the door, then pushed him inside, slamming it behind him.

“What gives?” he complained. “If you think sticking me in a glorified bird cage is going to break me, then you’re dumber than you look. This cell is way nicer than my old one, it has a carpet.”

“Let’s just say that I wanted you a little ... closer,” she replied with a smile that he found decidedly sinister.

“Not going to give me my clothes back? I’m not much to look at, not unless you have a thing for amputees.”

“Perhaps I shall have the tailor make something a little more flattering for when I present you to the queen as a gift.”

“That gossamer shit? No thanks.”

“The hour draws late,” she continued, turning her back to him as she made her way over to the wall beside the shower. “I’ll ask you again if you would care to join me.”

Cooper couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down to her rear, her leather jacket cut high as though to show it off. As much as he hated the Admiral, she had a body like a goddamned Greek statue, her shapely rump fighting against pants so tight that they could only have been sewn onto her.

She was right, of course. The women here were amazing, Korbaz’s body was a work of art, but he wasn’t about to let his dick start making decisions for him. Worst case scenario, once this bullshit was all over and done with, he could stop off in Elysia on the way back and have a tussle with a local girl. Maybe that would help get whatever this was out of his system.

“I’ll take any dingy cell over sharing a bed with you,” he replied, Korbaz turning to give him an exasperated sigh. She reached up and pressed a button on what looked like an intercom, a crackling voice coming through on the other end. There was a brief exchange in their language of hisses and growls, then she let go. After a minute of silent waiting, the door to the prefab slid open, a procession of Rask waiting obediently on the other side.

Korbaz waved them in, and they stepped over the threshold one by one, Cooper’s eyes following them across the room. All five of them were female, each one more beautiful than the last, their sculpted bodies on display in their flowing gowns of translucent fabric. They were model Rask, their hair ranging from platinum blonde to the color of wheat, their sun-kissed skin shades of tan and caramel. They peered at him with their golden eyes, their lips full and soft, their cheeks flushed pink. No matter how much he felt that he should be growing accustomed to the sight, he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from their figures. The way that their full, heavy breasts bounced with each step, the way that their hourglass hips swayed. The way that the pervasive heat sent glittering beads of sweat rolling down their toned midriffs, the moisture on their skin giving it a wet gleam. Was there even such a thing as an out-of-shape Borealan?

He met Korbaz’s watchful gaze, the alien smirking at his suspicious expression.

“I’m going to bed,” she began. “You can leave your cage and join us whenever you wish, you need only ask.”

“You already tried this angle, and it didn’t work,” he grumbled. “What makes you think that adding more girls to the equation is going to do it?”

“We shall see,” she replied, giving him a sardonic smile as she began to undress. She shrugged off her leather jacket, tossing it to one of the females, who plucked it from the air and set it on a nearby table. Beneath it, she wore only a kind of tank top made from what might be cotton or some alien equivalent, the white fabric contrasting with her dusky skin. Korbaz started to unfasten her belt. She slid it out of its loops, along with its many holstered knives and pistols, handing it off to another of her beautiful attendants.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, popping open the button on her impossibly tight pants. “I didn’t make a fuss when I saw you nude just now.”

Cooper frowned at her, sitting cross-legged on the carpet to hide his growing erection from view. He could just close his eyes, turn around and stare at the wall, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity. Korbaz was the largest among the lineup of women. She had an inch over the next tallest, and she was more heavily muscled, the epitome of what a Rask warrior should be. Size seemed to correlate pretty strongly with status, and he found himself imagining what the Matriarch might look like.

The leather creaked audibly as she began to drag her pants down, exposing the beginnings of a pair of shorts made from the same material as her top. It was a struggle for her to get them over her round thighs, he could see her muscles dimpling beneath the material as she danced on the spot, a wonderful softness that he hadn’t noticed before making them wobble subtly. The hem cut into her flesh as she dragged it lower, finally freeing herself from the garment. Those cotton shorts stopped just shy of her knees, cut low across her stomach, exposing a tantalizing sliver of her flat belly.

She stretched her arms above her head, her breasts shifting beneath the fabric of her tank top, their weight palpable. The motion lifted her top a little higher, Cooper catching a glimpse of chiseled muscles and coffee-colored skin.

“If you’re wondering why the bed is so large, it’s because I share it often,” she said. Her prehensile tail snaked out to brush the cheek of the nearest female, her amber eyes sliding across her body suggestively. “I don’t think you really understood what I was offering you before, and how could you? Such pleasures are unknown to your kind, it would be like expecting the blind to see, or the deaf to hear.”

“Or the Rask to show any tact or decency,” Cooper added. The females glanced at Korbaz, drawing away from her a little, as though afraid that she might fly into a rage. The Admiral’s cheeks warmed, but there was no outburst, he could see her suppressing her anger. Could it be that his jibes cut deeper in the presence of other Rask? There was so much social pressure on them to be aggressive and domineering. Maybe it was doubly embarrassing for Korbaz to be mocked in front of her crew.

“Perhaps we will see that tongue of yours put to better use before the night is through,” she replied.

“Don’t count on it,” Cooper scoffed.

She sat on the edge of the bed, Cooper averting his eyes as his cheeks began to warm.

“You need not look away,” she cooed, seeming to take pleasure in his discomfort. “After all, I’m doing this for your benefit.”

She reached down and began to slide off her shorts, keeping her legs closed so that he couldn’t see too much, revealing more tanned skin. Her thighs were so smooth, her dark complexion making them look like they had been carved from wood, polished to a shine. They were almost as thick around as a man’s torso, packed with the brawn that afforded her such grace and agility in this burdensome gravity. The sandy fur on her paw-like feet stopped just beneath her knees, everything above it flush and hairless. The dim light of the chandelier cast shadows, picking out the contours of her muscles, making every droplet of sweat sparkle. Her hips were broader than his shoulders, her core so thick and sturdy that he doubted whether his fingers would have met if he were to wrap his arms around her. Perhaps at its narrowest point, where the feminine flare of her hips tapered into a comparatively narrow waist.

She crossed her legs, Cooper watching the way that her flesh yielded. There was an inviting softness to her that made his heart beat faster, she wasn’t all muscle and sinew like a gym rat with zero percent body fat. She didn’t need to work out, she didn’t need to diet, her impressive physique was simply a product of her harsh lifestyle. It was necessary for her to stand any chance of moving that five hundred pound body around. Something about that fact made it all the more appealing.

The Admiral began to lift her top, slowly, tantalizingly. The light caught her midriff as it was exposed, the dark shadows that were cast by the chandelier helping to pick out the individual abdominal muscles that adorned her toned stomach. She had a six-pack so flawless that it might well have been hewn from cold marble, the idealized vision of a classical sculptor. Their flexing dispelled that illusion as she moved, the way that beads of her exertion followed the deep channels between them reminding him that she was indeed warm and alive.

Here, too, there was still a feminine plumpness to her physique. The subtle paunch that clung to her belly and hips sparked his imagination, his mind racing as he envisioned sinking his fingers into that velvety flesh.

God, why was he letting his thoughts run away with him? He had to keep his cool, or Korbaz might just get what she wanted out of him. Once he was over that precipice, there was no coming back.

She finally lifted her top over her head, a pair of firm breasts the size of basketballs swaying as she tossed the garment aside. They were massive by human standards, larger than Cooper’s head, but they looked completely natural on her massive frame. Her damp skin reflected the light from above, her supple fat wobbling as she reached up to cup one of them in her furry hand, its weight making it spill over her fingers like melting wax. It bounced when she released it, the impact sending a ripple through it.

Only now did Cooper notice the marks that peppered her naked body. The perfect smoothness of her caramel skin was broken up in places by the pink traces of healed scars. They were everywhere that his eyes wandered, the remnants of the dominance bouts that she often described, and perhaps battle injuries that she had long since recovered from. There were even a few in her furry forearms, where the swipe of a claw had killed the hair follicles, leaving a permanent mark.

“Looks like you’ve earned your share of scars, too,” he muttered.

“Each one is a lesson learned or a bout won,” she explained, running a hand down her abdomen. Her claws left red trails in her skin, Korbaz applying just enough pressure to leave a mark that would quickly fade, her abs tensing beautifully as she passed over them.

“Being permitted to serve someone of such high rank in her bedchamber is a rare honor, you know,” she continued. “These women jumped at the opportunity,” she added, waving her hand at the row of females. “Anything for a chance to catch my eye, to be recognized for their service...”

“You also ordered them to do it,” Cooper replied, frowning at her. “It’s not like they have much of a choice, is it?”

“Again, you fail to understand what motivates us,” Korbaz sighed. “Here, perhaps a demonstration is in order.”

She beckoned to one of the waiting females with a clawed finger, the girl stepping forward. This one was just as beautiful and as graceful as the rest, gliding across the carpet in the high gravity with all the ease of a ballroom dancer. She was amazingly light on her feet, considering that she must have weighed as much as a Siberian tiger. She was a little softer than Korbaz, but that wasn’t saying much, as all of the Rask seemed to have the physique of Olympic athletes. Still, the way that her ample butt rolled beneath the revealing fabric of her flowing skirt as she walked transfixed him.

She had scars too, he realized. They all did. He would have been lying if he had said that it tarnished their beauty, but he felt a sudden pang of anger at the thought of their superiors clawing them for spilling a drink or failing to perform their menial duties to satisfaction.

“So, do you usually scar up your servants?” he grumbled.

“Servants?” Korbaz asked, laughing at his question. “These are not servants as you would describe them. These women are warriors, you may even have seen them around the crawler while they were in uniform.”

“They’re ... warriors?” he asked, failing to conceal his surprise. “But ... they’re dressed like...”

“They’re dressed like this because I requested it,” Korbaz elaborated, reaching beneath the nearest female’s gossamer skirt to run her padded fingers up her sculpted thigh. “Love and war share so many similarities. Why should a warrior not be pleasing to the eye once she has removed her leathers? Does the strength and vigor required for combat not translate perfectly into lovemaking once she has left the battlefield?”