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Note: This is an erotica novel. As such, character and story play a huge part of the telling. There absolutely is hardcore sex, but the story will build to it rather than arrive right out the gate.
**DISCLAIMER**: I am posting the *entirety* of the first book when it is finished, any pay you give to my Patreon is for extra content: lore releases, early chapter releases, etc. None of the story itself is in any way gated or unreadable (though you might have to wait a month to see it!)
Consciousness came with a blast of cold water across Mike’s face.
He choked and spluttered, finding his mouth filled with water as he instinctively spat out the offensive liquid. The groggy smuggler tossed his dripping hair behind his head, getting the dark bangs out of his eyes as he leaned back in the metal chair he was shackled to. His arms were cuffed behind his back, linked to a chain leading down to the floor. His legs were similarly bound, tying him to the metallic chrome seat. He couldn’t sit comfortably, the chains prevented him from leaning too far forward or too far back.
Mike blinked a few times, working out the blur as he gradually came to his senses. His head hurt less than he had expected, and despite his grogginess he could tell he was healthier than he ought to have been, given the injury he’d suffered. He cast his gaze around, finding himself in a sparse, barren room with white stone tiling. There was a two-way mirror to his left; the buzz of the fluorescent lights above him made him feel shifty and uncomfortable. He was in an interrogation room.
“Wake up.” Growled a harsh voice that Mike took small note of. He did not lift his head to see who had said it. Water dripped from the tips of his hair like pattering rain, it collected into a small puddle on the floor in the space between his feet.
“I know you can hear me, Human.” The voice said again. It was gruff, but feminine. The buzzing of the lights was already starting to annoy Mike.
“Then why are you talking so loud?” He replied, snorting to try to get the lingering water out of his nose. He felt a hand grasp the back of his head, gripping him by his hair and jerking his head up.
He was to face with a female Orc. Her teeth were bared and she bent over him in an aggressive, domineering fashion. Her chocolate colored eyes squinted at him with harsh suspicion. He could see she was doing her best to intimidate him.
“Hi there!” Mike gave her a winning smile, blowing the wet bangs from his eyes. “The name’s Mike. How do you do?”
“A lot better than *you’re* going to be doing, Human.” She snarled into his face, “If you don’t answer our questions.”
“You’ll have to ask them first, before I can answer.” Mike responded, “…Isn’t that usually the way interrogations go, Beautiful?”
‘Beautiful’ punched him in the face. Mike’s head snapped around, his body shifting in place as the cuffs held him firm. He tilted in his chair for a moment before returning to a centered position, coughing. She gave him a strong look, and Mike got the message.
“You’re lucky we found you when we did.” The Orc said with a grunt, taking a few steps back but keeping her eyes trained upon him. “That concussion of yours would have been fatal, if we hadn’t stuck your half-carcass into a medical pod.”
“Well by all means,” Mike said, probing his tongue around in his mouth to be sure she hadn’t jarred any of his teeth loose. “Save my life, then give me another one.”
“You were being combative.” She said, as if that explained everything. “I don’t like combative.”
Mike shrugged in his manacles, “We play with the hand we’re dealt, sometimes.”
The Orc stopped. She moved forward, placing her hands atop his shoulders as she stared hard into his eyes. “And what ‘hand’ do you think you have been dealt coming to this place, Human?”
Mike laughed aloud. “Well, judging from the reception I’ve been getting ever since I took a pass over your moon’s atmosphere, I’d say my hand is pretty shit.” He winked at her. “I’m still playing it, though.”
Beautiful let out a grudging huff of air and withdrew from him, stretching to her full height. When she stood, Mike got a true look at the amazon. She was thick in the body, built like a wrestler, with large muscles that were quite toned. She stood nearly a half foot taller than Mike, the front of her long, red hair braided atop her head like a warrior’s crown. The back of her hair trailed forward, draping down either of her shoulders and coming to rest at the summit of her large bust.
She was clad in military fatigues, the same as the scouts from before: a riot of browns and greens and tans rolling across her clothing as she stood at near-attention. The Orc’s eyes never left his own as she stared Mike down.
There was a strange *whirr*, then the sound of air compressing. Mike glanced over, behind Beautiful’s shoulder. He was taken aback by a truly queer sight: an albino Orc sitting in a corner, surrounded by machines.
The wizened figure was wrinkled and decrepit, lying back against a reclining chair. What Mike *assumed* to be a “he” was hooked up to a complex hover propulsion machine. Numerous breathing apparatuses and blood filters surrounded him, covering his body in small bruise nicks thanks to his papery skin. What little hair he had left upon his spotted head was bone white, like his flesh. The wispy locks were as effervescent as a cobweb. His teeth were gone, worn down to nubs in his flaccid mouth. The Orc’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was steady.
Mike glanced from the Old albino to the young Greenskin. “…Who’s the stiff?”
“Shut up.” She replied. “Answer my questions.”
Beautiful approached, looming over him, looking down her snout as she crossed her arms. She adopted the most menacing posture she could. Given her impressive size, it was not difficult to feel menaced.
“Who are you?” She asked.
“Mike.” He answered. “We’ve been over this before, actually. How do you do?”
“You’re awfully clever.” The Orc let out a grunt. “Keep saying clever things like that Mike, and I’ll cave in your clever skull with a mallet.”
“Do it on my right side,” Mike said, turning his face so she could see the mark she’d left. “You already made it my ugly half.”
Beautiful tilted her head skyward and guffawed. “Hah! Well, if you do die today Human, you’ll at least die audaciously.”
The White Orc in the corner stirred and groaned. The interrogator turned her head around, pausing as he shifted in place. The ventilator pumped a little faster. Mike blinked, a strange haze coming over his mind for a moment.
There was a creeping sound in the back of his head.
*Focus on the questions.* The interrogator nodded and glanced back at Mike.
“Uh…” Mike said, staring wide eyed at the White Orc.
“How many crew were there on your ship, before the crash?” Beautiful asked. “I presume that you were its Captain?”
Mike turned his bewildered expression to her. “…Are you seriously not going to address what just happened?”
The Greenskin grinned at him, flashing her pointed rows of teeth. “Now who is getting under whose skin?”
“What in the hell is *he*?” Mike said.
“Just answer the question, Human.” Beautiful responded. Her grin grew predatory.
Mike couldn’t take his eyes off the old Orc. “It was just two of us. My first mate Allynna and I.”
“The Elf.” The interrogator said. Mike’s look swiveled to her.
“Yes.” Mike replied. “How did you know that?”
“Vrogag came to, before you did. He told us what happened when you tried to ambush him.” The Orc’s satisfied smile deepend. “He mentioned an Elf intervening to save your life.”
Mike scowled. “That coward will tell you any story he can to evade the shame of getting beaten by a guy half his size.”
“Hah! Your concussion wasn’t self inflicted, Human.” The interrogator shook her head. “And Vrogag wasn’t lying. He mentioned your prowess in hand to hand combat once or twice. *Unfavorably*.”
“Yeah, well he should work on his spatial awareness.” Mike grumbled, “He’s lucky I didn’t want to kill him, otherwise he wouldn’t have ‘won.’ I was two steps behind him before he ever even noticed me.”
“Enough time for him to beat you to a pulp.” She remarked.
“I went easy on him.” Mike said, grinning back at her. She guffawed again.
“You’re an insolent little speck, aren’t you?” Mike and the Orc stared at each other for a long moment, smiling. The ventilator in the corner wheezed loudly. Mike felt the room go fuzzy for a moment.
*At least have the common decency to wait till the interrogation is over to fuck the prisoner.*
Mike blinked in surprise. Beautiful let out a belly laugh. “Cull your vulgar mind, you pasty bag of bones! I was just getting to the point.” She turned back to look at her prisoner. “He’s impatient because you keep flirting with me, instead of answering my questions.” She explained.
“So I gathered.” Mike replied, eying both the Orcs. Something was off about them, more than just the voice talking in his head.
Beautiful’s brow rose. “Not an ounce of fear when I strike you, nor when I bring up your crew, yet your guard raises when I mention the flirting. You are strange to me, Mike.”
“I figured that it was a… private conversation between us.” Mike replied with a smile. “One that didn’t need verbal confirmation. And what makes you think my guard is raised?”
Beautiful narrowed her small eyes at him. Her smile was as wide as his. “Because your feelings are now withdrawn. Your smile is half-affected. You are still amused, but you feel concern about something. Concern about us, it’s growing even as I speak.”
Mike slowly stiffened in his chair. “…What the hell are you people?”
“These questions are going the wrong direction.” She retorted. “What were you doing flying so close to Votar’s orbit? Were you not aware of its reputation for piracy?”
“Of course I was aware. That’s why I came this way.” Mike rattled in his bindings, affecting a posture of jovial indifference. “I’m a smuggler. I was smuggling things. The best way to move things from one place-” he held his hands out like he was holding a box, “to another place, *discreetly*-” he moved the invisible box from his right side to his left side as his chains jingled. “tends to involve going places where no one else should go.”
“So you are a fool, then.” The green woman said.
Mike grinned. “Now you’re starting to sound like my first mate.”
“-The one who made off with one of our repulsor cycles.” The interrogator said flatly.
The chained rogue shrugged. “I told you I won the fight.”
“Do you know where she went?” She asked.
Mike snorted. “What makes you think I’d have any clue about ‘what direction she’d go’ on a hostile planet she’s never been to?”
Beautiful glanced over at her older compatriot. He did not so much as stir. She seemed to take this to be some kind of sign, turning back to Mike and letting out a long sigh.
“…What was the cargo that you were smuggling before you got shot down?”
“A Mark 315 Planetary Shield Generator.” Mike responded. Beautiful jerked in place.
“You just… admit it outright?” She sounded incredulous. “Either you’re truly a fool, or something is going on.”
Mike quirked an eyebrow. “What, were you looking to buy one yourself? Sorry, I’m almost certain mine got wrecked in the crash. I’ll sell you the scrap though, if it’ll pay my freight offplanet.”
“You’re right. It *was* wrecked.” The Orc said, a hostile anger rising on her facial expression. She bared her teeth at Mike. “And we want to know why.”
“…Is there some secret I’m not in on, right now?” Mike said, turning his head from the White Orc to the Green one. “Because I don’t get what you want from me, other than-” Mike paused.
“*No*…” Mike whispered, a contemplative look coming to his face as he mulled the possibility. Did that slimy little Dwarf sell someone else’s toy out from under them?
“Something you wish to confess, Mike?” The Orc interrogator said. Her eyes were hard upon him.
“Confess is a bad way of putting it. More like ‘inform.’” Mike said. “I think I might have been flying some stolen equipment. In fact, I daresay *certainly* stolen. From you, it would seem.”
“What a canny conclusion to come to.” She retorted. “And how did you reach it, Human?”
“The same way any clever person would, *Orc*.” He said, stressing the word and arching his eyebrows at her. “See that? That’s how weird it is to call me ‘human’ repeatedly.”
Beautiful laughed. “You make hating you a hard proposition, Mike.” She stepped up to him, reaching out to grab him by his shoulders with both hands, lifting him as far off the ground as the cuffs would allow. The chains jingled as they went taut. Her eyes were inches from his own. “…But if you’re lying to us, you will regret it.”
“-And here I thought the manacles were there to protect *you* from me.” Mike replied. She smirked and lowered him back into his chair.
“How did you come to be in possession of the Shield Generator?” She asked. Her voice curt and precise.
Mike shrugged. “My first mate and I worked out a deal with a local businessman on the planet Charity-”
“Ukavar.” The Orc corrected him.
“What?”
“Ukavar.” She repeated. “Charity is the empty word the Interlopers gave to Ukavar.”
“Sure.” Mike replied.
“So you are just a hired lackey.” The interrogator said. “You aren’t the mastermind of this conspiracy.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Beautiful, the only thing I’ve ‘masterminded’ in the last seventy two hours was getting shot down twice and getting my ass kicked once. Whatever you think I’m involved in with this deal, it’s ankle deep at most.”
The interrogator glanced over to confirm with the pale Orc. He did not stir, and she turned her attention back to Mike once more.
“This is a pretty weird ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine you’re pulling.” Mike remarked, nodding at the White Orc. “He hasn’t asked me one question yet.”
“It is not his place to ask questions.” She replied, “It is his place to judge your answers.”
“A living lie detector test, huh?” Mike said, letting out a snort of derision. “So are you just sitting there, reading my mind then?”
*Yes*.
Mike turned, looking over at the White Orc in the corner just as the old alien peeked his wrinkled lids open to match eyes with him. There was a strange intensity to the old Orc’s gaze. Mike began to feel uncomfortable and glanced away.
“…Okay.” Mike said, staring at the ground for a long moment. “Who are you people, and what do I have to do to get the fuck away from you both?”
“Who do you work for?” Beautiful said, ignoring his question.
“For myself. I’m a freelancer.” Mike fidgeted in his bindings, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden. “Hence why it’s just a two man crew. Allynna and I take odd jobs on the sly, and we don’t ask a lot of questions.”
“Then who sold you the Generator?”
Mike raised his hands defensively. “Woah, don’t say ‘sold.’ We were just moving freight for a contact. I never laid a finger on the thing myself.”
“-Yet, you plotted to fly it directly past our planet, directly past the people who legally bought it.” The Orc’s eyes tightened, “People who were *very* angry to learn that the package had been ‘lost in transit.’”
“I don’t know anything about that.” Mike replied. Beautiful glanced over to her pale companion. He did not stir.
“Then what *do* you know?” She asked, turning back to Mike.
“That you are actually pretty hot when you aren’t busy scowling.” Mike replied. She laughed.
“I see your audacity refuses to diminish.”
Mike snorted, “Okay, even in a different language that *has* to be an innuendo.”
“Answer the question.” She said. Her tone implying that he’d run out of road.
“We had a contact at an Elven Weapons Company: Maeles Aelor Incorporated. A Dwarf. Goes by the name of Finget Opalbraid. He’s the one who paid us to ship it offworld.” Mike let out a sigh, “We assumed he was stealing off of his own company. But it looks like you people were the ones he was screwing over.”
“And now you are in our custody.” The Orc said.
Mike chuckled. “Yeah. I’m kinda up shit’s creek, aren’t I?”
“Shits cr-?”
“Heruen help me,” Mike said drooping his head. “It *means* I’m in a bad situation!”
“That you are.” She replied. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment. “That was an Elven deity you just prayed to.”
“I grew up on an Elven Colony.” Mike replied, “I learned more about their Gods than I ever learned about my own. Force of habit, I guess.”
“Is that why a Human was Captaining an Elven Starship?” Beautiful asked. “Are you connected to the Everlasting Empire in some way?”
*Only in a platonic sense*. Mike thought to himself. “I did something stupid that just happened to work out well for me, and the ship was a ‘thank you’ for that. Allynna is a Mool-Gwaith, an indentured servant given to me by the Elvish Government to make sure I didn’t crash the *Halfbreed* headfirst into an asteroid on my maiden voyage. She’s my friend.”
“Your preferred bed partner it would seem, from the way you’re thinking about her right now.” The Orc replied, a slow smirk growing on her face.
Mike stared at her for a long moment. “That’s none of your concern. And frankly, beside the point.”
The Orc’s eyes filled with a tantalizing twinkle. “You react more to me mentioning your lust for your first mate than you do when I accuse you of robbing our tribe.”
“Because one actually matters to me.” Mike responded. “If you think I’m to blame for this beyond flying some stolen cargo, then kill me now. It wont bring your Shield Generator back, but maybe you’ll get some laughs out of dangling my intestines like confetti streamers all over town square, huh?”
“Are you so eager to meet your death,” The Orc said, “That you would leave your fate entirely in my hands?
“No,” Mike shrugged, “I just know that’s the situation.”
Beautiful smiled. “Whether you like it or not.” She folded her arms across her chest. “So what are we to do with you then?”
“Well, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to help me find my missing first mate and then give us a lift to Charity-”
“Ukavar.”
“Right. ‘Ukavar.’ Drop us off instead of shooting us down for once.” Mike gave her a winning smile. “Would that be too much to ask, Beautiful?”
The Orc chuckled. She turned her head to look at the old Albino. “Satisfied? Are you ready to pass judgement?” The air went hazy for a moment.
*I am*. The old Orc opened his eyes. *He speaks the truth. What little of it he knows, at least*.
“Do you think he’s concealing anything?” She said. The old Orc groaned. The air pump bellowed.
*This Human cowers behind his bravado like a shield, but all that he conceals is his pride. There is no falsehood.*
“Yeah, well… you’re old.” Mike retorted.
The air seemed to ripple in front of Mike for a moment. *He has harmed the Voaten, but he did so unknowingly. Justice demands he repay his debt, but the cost need not be so high as his life.*
“Fly me back to Charity, and I’ll empty out my bank account.” Mike volunteered.
The old Orc’s eyes were harder to match with than the young interrogator’s. *You will help us in other ways, ‘Michael.’*
“It’s Mike, actually.” Mike replied, glancing away. “-And to whom do I owe the pleasure?”
The albino ignored him. *My task is finished. I will leave you two to your fornication.*
Beautiful guffawed, “Get your rickety hide out of here Judge, and leave the normal folk in peace!”
As the hoverchair passed through the doorway at the end of the room in front of Mike, the old Orc paused.
*You are not ‘normal,’ Lashvara.* He said, staring at her. *Make sure your alien prisoner reaches his holding cell unmolested.*
Lashvara made a face at the old Orc as he passed beyond the entryway.The interrogation cell door’s internal piston hissed as it slid shut once again. Mike and the female Orc were left alone in the room.
She turned to face him, giving him a wide grin as she planted her hands on her hips. “Never mind the Judge, he’s as irritable as he is ancient. You did well.”
“I aim to please.” Mike said. “Now what the hell was that all about?”
Lashvara began to slowly unbutton her military shirt. Mike could see the white fabric of an undershirt peeking out beneath, with green skin covering the rest. Her smile deepened when she saw Mike’s eyes begin to stray. “Speak plainly, Human.” She said, pulling one of her arms free from the outer shirt. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do, and don’t try to distract me.” He shifted position in his seat. “What are you people: psychics? Empaths? That white bundle of flesh was *talking in my brain*.”
Lashvara ignored him, pulling off the rest of her shirt and exposing the top of her generous chest. Around her neck was hung a small mushroom, blue like the ocean and frilled, with multiple grasping tendrils emerging from the top of its head. She tossed aside the shirt and walked towards him.
Mike twisted in place with discomfort. “Answer me, damn it!”
“The Judge just saved your life.” Lashvara said. “Had you been lying to us, this conversation would have gone *far* differently. His abilities are what kept your head on your shoulders.”
“If I had a reason to lie to you, I would have.” Mike said. “You’re the ones who shot down the *Halfbreed,* without provocation.”
The Orc sidestepped around him, the imposing shadow of her presence causing the hair to tingle on the back of Mike’s neck. “You crashed on *our* world. You are the intruder here.” She went down to one knee, her hands fiddling with the locks. Mike heard the sound of a key turning, then a *click*. “Besides, the Voaten did not shoot you down. That was one of the Raketi, likely the Vakka tribe.”
“You’re talking like I would know who any of these people are.” Mike said, tilting his head back as he tried to match eyes with the Orc. She grunted and turned his head forward again with her hand.
“The Raketi are the Polar kin, the ice dwellers. They are the grandsons and granddaughters of the first Warrior. They do not take kindly to any alien presence near our homeworld. You entered their ships’ hunting grounds, and became their prey.” Mike felt a pressure release on his legs; he could now move a little. “We are not like them. We are the Toaven.”
“Is that Orcish for ‘Mind Readers?’” Mike said.
Lashvara chuckled, moving to Mike’s arms, unlatching them from the hoop connected to his leg chains. “That is not all Orcs. Only a Judge is capable of true telepathy.”
“I met a few natives in the short time I was on Charity. None of them seemed to know what I was thinking about at any given moment.” Mike’s eyes hardened as he stared at the two way mirror. He could see Lashvara’s reflected face bent in concentration over his manacles.“…So what were you doing just now, when you blurted out my thoughts?”
The Orc shrugged. The mushroom at her neck bounced against her green skin. “I was just feeling your emotions, like any Orc would.”
“So, you can feel feelings.” Mike said, shaking his head back and forth. “Heruen help me, if Aly ever ends up in your hands.”
“You speak of her often,” Lashvara said, a wan smile rising to her lips. “You hide your lust for her poorly.”
“Could you *please* stop talking about that?” Mike said, lifting his head skyward as he felt the last of the manacles come off.
The Orc let out a laugh. “Aliens never cease to amaze me. Your egos are as fragile as your skulls when it comes to expressing emotion. To be anything other than what you are is disingenuous.”
“Some things are better kept hidden.” Mike said, rubbing at his wrists. His fingers played across the liquid metal device that had been embedded in the bones of his wrist, tied directly into his nervous system. They hadn’t disarmed him – or rather, de-*handed* him.
“For the sake of what? Her inevitable response to your repressed emotions? Are you a child, unable to withstand the terror of someone’s words?” She stood up, looming over him as she put a hand upon his shoulder, holding him in his seat.
Mike made a point to rise, resisting the slight push of Lashvara’s hand to keep him down. She relented quick enough, her hand remaining planted at his shoulder as he stood and stretched.
“If you knew Elves like I do, you’d realize how ridiculous that statement is.” He said.
“I know Elves, Human.” The Orc responded, “I lived with them for the better part of a decade. Some of my old contacts in the Everlasting Empire were the ones who helped my tribe purchase the Shield Generator. I learned plenty about their latent xenophobia.”
Mike snorted. “‘Latent.’ That’s a good one. Aly’s Uncle is a damn *war hero*. And he got banished to the edge of Wild Space because he got a bit too close to his human nurse. When was the last time you saw an Elf even look twice at aliens like us?”
“Your first mate doesn’t seem to mind your company.”
Mike clenched his fist. “My first mate is also trying to attain her Citizenship and become a functioning member of her society. She *has* to do this. The second our contract is up, she’s headed back to the Core Worlds, to her family.”
Lashvara huffed. “…Are you certain of that?”
Mike scowled. “That’s what she told me.”
Instead of answering, Lashvara simply laughed. Mike turned his head back to look at her, and she gestured at the door. “After you.”
“Are we going to chat about my absent father after this, too?” Mike said.
“Only if you focus on it.” Lashvara replied, “You don’t seem to care much about him one way or the other.”
“Fair enough.” Mike said, marching to the door. “Onwards, then.”
He stepped through, finding himself in a spare, white corridor with an elevator on his right. The entrapped human felt a hand push him hard forward through the portal to let her through. He stumbled, nearly slipping on the pristine, carbon fiber floor plating. It muffled his footsteps as he walked. The walls themselves were of carbon fiber. This building was Elven made.
The two Orcish guards standing to either side of the elevator doors snapped to attention. Mike felt Lashvara’s hand take him by the back of his neck, shoving him forward like he was a dummy she was manipulating. Mike let out a grunt of annoyance but complied. Helpless – for the moment.
The Orc standing guard to the left of the elevator door nodded at Lashvara. He stood a good head or so taller than Lashvara, his female companion did as well. It seemed that Mike’s interrogator was a shrimp in the species. The thought made Mike feel all the more intimidated.
“That old fart said you want to fuck an alien.” The Guard enjoined.
Lashvara let out a belly laugh. “Damn Tarvan and his ever multiplying wrinkles! I flirted with the Human *once* because he made me laugh, and he takes me to task for it!”
“More than once actuall-*ah*!” Mike started to say, before Lashvara pinched a pressure point in his shoulder and he went down on one knee. The Orcs chortled at his submission.
“He’s a bit too pale and bony for my taste. I doubt he’d even fit.” Said the Orc to the right of the elevator door, her rifle slung over her shoulder, tangling between her long, black lion’s mane falling in a thicket behind her head. She shifted her weight back and forth as she unsubtly looked Mike up and down. “Plus I can’t get over the skin pigment.”
“Don’t judge a blaster by the case it’s carried in.” Mike retorted. He tried to lift his head to speak, only to be shoved back into place by Lashvara. “Give me ten minutes and the use of my hands, see if I can’t make your green toes curl.” He said to the ground.
“You cowering is the only thing I see, Human.” The male Orc on the left said, an easy grin rising to his face. The smile faded into a sudden, sharp scowl as he affixed Mike with a glare. “-Were you trying to flirt with a Princess of the Toaven during an interrogation?”
“No…” Mike shook his head, doing his best to smile up at the two Orcs in fatigues looming over him. “I was hoping to *fuck* the lady currently yanking me by the scruff of my neck. But judging by her grip, I think she’s in denial.”
The three Orcs laughed as one. “He’s a bold one, I’ll give him that!” Said the male Orc. He pulled out a small keycard from a thong on his neck and swiped it across the reader. There was a beep, then the elevator slid open noiselessly.
“Don’t even give him that.” Lashvara said from behind his head. There was humor in her voice. “This one’s a Smuggler. You’re likely to ‘lose’ whatever you give him.”
“I’m an honest businessman, not a *pickpocket*!” Mike protested, even as he was pushed into the elevator. He was half tempted to utilize his hand device against his manacles to prove an ironic point.
“Shut up and stand to one side.” Lashvara said. The two guards filed in after them, crowding the small elevator with their long rifles. Lashvara hit a button and the elevator door slid shut. The silence was deafening as the room began to move.
“…A Princess, huh?” Mike said, attempting to turn his head. “I didn’t know you natives kept royalty.”
“My father is the Chief of the Toaven. One tribe among many.” Lashvara retorted, twisting his head forward once more. “This Starport is the result of dozens of tribes’ collective efforts. We are a confederation. On this base, I am just a soldier.”
“-And a deviant.” Said the Orc to Mike’s right. Lashvara and the female Orc Guard both laughed at him. It sounded almost harmonized, as if the two were one with the emotion. The cadence of their laughter even fell into sync.
“Tennik,” Lashvara said, “You are ruthless to me, sometimes.”
“It’s affection that drives my brutality, I assure you Ma’am.” Tennick replied, filing out of the elevator as the door slid open to reveal a bare, medical hallway. Mike’s eyes were immediately drawn to the Elven architecture. It was a large hospital prefab, of the kind that Elves would erect in the first weeks of a planet’s colonization. But the proportions were… off.
The Orcs towered over Mike, so it stood to reason that their buildings were just as monumental. The hospital’s bare, white ceiling was vaulted, far higher than a human structure would ever construct. The hallway was flanked by numbered doors with colored lines leading from the wall down indeterminate directions of the hallway’s numerous turns. There were no visible windows, but the hallways were brightly lit and welcoming in nature. The door frames hung a good two feet taller than usual. Mike felt like a dwarf in the room.
“Keep it moving, Human.” Lashvara said, shoving him forward as she set a sudden pace. Mike could do little but lead from her example, marching forward in stiff, controlled steps. The Guards followed along at a distance, seeming bemused by her harsh treatment of Mike.
“You know you don’t have to manhandle- *urgh*- m-me, right?” He said, grunting as he walked forward, hunched over.
“I know. I just like making you squirm.” Lashvara replied.
“I bet.” Mike responded, smiling slyly at the ground. The two Orcs behind him laughed together. They seemed to be a boisterous people.
“So the truth comes out.” Tennik said, “You really *do* like him, Lashvara! Should I be the one escorting him back to his cell? I’m worried you might make wind with the scoundrel!”
“Go suck a Subra mushroom,” She retorted, “Who or what I choose to mate with is of no concern to you. And I’m not about to sleep with a thief and an alien.”
“Thank Heruen.” Mike said as they reached an empty lobby, leading towards the exit. “I forgot to wear my body armor.”
The hand at his neck clenched. Lashvara pressed her fingers to his pressure points again, drawing a sharp pain to his head. “You’d need more than *that* to survive me, whelp.” Lashvara snarled, annoyed at his tone.
Mike shrugged. “I’m probably going to eat a bullet soon anyway, might as well go out with a smile on my face.”
The female Guard cackled, even as the group stepped out into the open night air of Votar. It was late at night, the floodlights of the base were the only real illumination besides the glimmering moons above. “He burrows under your skin like few others can, Lashvara. Do you intend to ‘interrogate’ him further, when you’re alone?”
“-After I get finished pounding you into the ground for insubordination, sure.” Lashvara retorted, dragging Mike across the deserted central courtyard.
“Now you’re just teasing me, Lass.” Mike said, smirking.
“It’s Lash.” The Orc blinked. “Lashvara.” She added, as if she’d just outwitted herself. An annoyed scowl built on her features. “My name is Lashvara.”
“Care to take a second swing at the whole ‘name’ thing, Beautiful?”
The Orcs laughed as one. “You sure we have to shoot this one, Ma’am?” Tennick said, his deep voice chuckling. “I think I’m starting to like him.”
“That’s precisely *why* we have to shoot him.” Lashvara growled, though her heart wasn’t in the statement. “He’s less likely to talk his way out of punishment, then.”
“You’ve got cheery tribe mates, Lass.” Mike remarked, feeling Lashvara’s hand against his back pushing him out into the wide thoroughfare of the base’s concrete road. “If you didn’t keep getting distracted by my dashing good looks, maybe you’d remember to smile more often.”
“Shut up.” She replied. “We’re almost there.”
They walked along the road until it gave way to the shoreline of a small, inland lake. Across the glorified pond were signs of larger settlement, far removed from this isolated, secured area of the base. As Mike’s footsteps crunched upon the soggy gravel he saw a number of buildings across the water. They had widely variable designs, huddling together in rough cul-de-sacs that dipped off from the main thoroughfare, running the length of the camp.
Some buildings were similar to the hospital Mike had been in: prefabricated structures of a modular, yet elegant design. Others, however were tall-thatched buildings with long bodies cut from wood, with elements of carbon fiber material weaved into the framework. The Orcs seemed to live in longhouses; nearly everything was communal in this loud, boisterous place. Campfires dotted the landscape, looking like nothing so much as flickering fireflies in the evening dark.
Mike was steered by his captors towards a most unusual sight in the village: a building with more than one floor. They were taking him to what amounted to an Elven Embassy: a sort of cultural service center, wherein the haughty race would attempt to interact with their alien neighbors living on the same planet.
The structure was tall and thin, like a human skyscraper but with half the space usage. It stretched a relatively modest four stories high, the top of its head hanging a scant few feet above the tree cover.
They passed through the front kiosk in a hustle. Mike noted with some trepidation that the reception desk was empty. Half the buildings in this camp seemed unoccupied, or were not being used as originally intended. He had yet to see a single species other than Orcs within the base. What was going on here?
Another elevator ride. The Orcs were quieter and more subdued here. Mike felt a growing sense of unease, wondering if their ‘jokes’ about shooting him had been jokes at all. When the weight kicked in and the elevator started moving downwards towards the basement, Mike felt a nervous thrill run down his spine. For all his bravado, he did not want to die today. The Orcs chuckled at his fear.
“Quaking in your boots, Smuggler?” The female guard goaded. “Do you still want me to take you up on that offer with your hands? Or did you want to save the struggle for when you get downstairs?” The other Orcs laughed, Mike stared at the ground and tried to steady his breathing.
When the elevator doors opened the Guards took their assigned places at its entrance and halted, leaving Mike alone with Lashvara. She led him down a long corridor, past a series of maintenance rooms and equipment storage, to a quiet little alcove that Mike knew from experience to be one of the Embassy’s holding cells.
“Before we go in there, Lass.” Mike said, coming to a halt at the metallic hatch as Lashvara punched in the code to open it. “Can I ask if I’m ever coming back out?”
“You can ask.” She replied as the door slid open. “It won’t help you much either way.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/br0c17/halfbreed_ch_03