The Serpents and the Skulls, Chapter 1.2
22 Mar 2017Michael Wolfe
At least the view is nicer than normal. I, Azalea Constantinestu, deserve that much.
My gaze lingers over the council’s guest: Wolfgang Teilhard of the Nijkas Gold Crew. He is a fine specimen of a man: tall, tanned, golden hair in a magnificent topknot, with the stunning dual golden dragons of high clan position running down his muscular arms. It’s the custom of these serpent-tattooed savages to have their arms always bared. I’d once purchased one of their number for use in the Velvet Club. I remember lifting the chin of the wild-eyed young morsel and asking why this was. Her answer was that in the Gold Crew, each clan member’s rank and position was instantly known by the type and coloring of the serpent tattoos on their arms, eliminating any question of who was who among strangers.
I smile as the man continues his exhortations and appeals to warrior tradition and honor. No doubt Degginal and the others are bored to tears by the man’s long-winded speech, but are too shrewd to ever be outwardly rude or contradictory. Amusing, too, is the man’s simple-minded belief that the universe and everything in it is simply the creation and the will of the Great Serpent. Like the mystics of Chun, everything that is done or said is through the lense of their pet barbarian religion, with all the expected hand-wringing over whether or not the Great Serpent wishes its people to submit to Black Omega or not. For myself, I am content. I have no great interest in seeing these snake worshippers join Black Omega either way. The man in front of me, however…
What an attraction he would have been at the Velvet Club. I’d have made a fortune off of him and that Great Serpent lurking between his thighs.
The envoy moves with practiced grace, his muscles rippling under the formal crimson vest over his torso. He strikes me as a rose amid the stark black of the High Council chamber. All around me were black-suited men and women sat at a polished black wood table in the middle of the grey-walled room. The picture window, of course, was filled with the starry blackness of space, the coming and going ships providing the only motion to animate the view. His smooth baritone voice fills my ears, his words dissolving into a pleasant, masculine background noise. But it is not his voice that interests me the most.
Yes. Quite an attraction. And with a stim or two, quite the night’s diversion as well.
The man’s eyes sweep around the room, his and mine eyes making contact. His gaze lingers over me for a just a moment longer than protocol dictates, but the connection is forged nevertheless.
Or perhaps he wouldn’t need an order to report to my chambers, after all. And certainly not a performance stim once he’s there.
I flick my gaze over to my closest ally on the counsel. Marrakech Morgan is seated at Degginal’s right-hand side, her position as consigliere known to all. Our eyes meet for only a second, but a second is all women ever need. The side of her mouth twitches in a smile that only I can see; she, too, has noticed the focus of the envoy’s attentions. A feeling of superiority swells in my chest.
Yes, Marra. He has eyes for me. Not you. And certainly not that pale mess of a waif you’re bundling with. Why the Pirate Queen of Pegasi would ever bother with my leftovers I will never understand.
The man takes his guest seat at the council’s table. Now, the negotiations will begin in earnest. I will likely not say anything, of course. Victor Laius handles the bulk of the diplomatic heavy lifting; Degginal only chimes in with the occasional clarification and counter-offer. Marra herself says almost nothing, though I can tell that the wheels are turning in her mind. This is as Degginal wishes; it is his custom to let Victor do most of the speaking while he observes and analyzes the intentions of the council’s guest.
The next two hours would have been a bore under any other circumstances, but the masculine distraction is a welcome one. I pay attention to the back-and-forth of the negotiations only with great effort; already I can tell that some recreational diversion will be necessary afterward. But what? Onionhead is so vulgar, so common; anything more interesting leaves me unfit for counsel duty the next day. Marra’s Exotica is amusing, of course- but it’s no Velvet Club. If only my latest companion were here...
My lips tighten as I suppress the smile. My previous assistant hadn't lasted long, ambushed in her ship during that disaster of an operation on '072. At the time, it had seemed like a tremendous loss. In retrospect, it had been clearing the path to something much, much better.
What was her name, again? LeAnne? Lisa? Liona. That was it. Gone so soon, but replaced so easily.
Fabrizzio is my newest purchase from the slave markets of Harma. And what a purchase he was- fair-skinned, docile, and possessing an eagerness to please that I hadn’t seen since Apollonia. Unlike that Gallic trinket, Fabrizzio had been professionally groomed. He’d cost me a fortune, but it had been credits well-spent. He was everything his master had promised, and being attached to me had given him purpose in life. He’d even said so.
But he was all the way back on Dantec Platform, so I’d have to see to myself. And right now, I had to at least pretend like I was interested in the political back and forth between Victor and Wolfgang. At least my participation isn’t required. My role at the council meetings is to decide how Mukusubii can best support Black Omega. My system is an important one, and I rule it in with their blessing.
The negotiations end on an inconclusive note. The envoy simply wishes too much independence for his band of snake worshipers. Him and Victor agree to meet tomorrow, and with a deep bow, the man excuses himself.
He casts one more look my way before turning to leave. Again, the gesture isn’t lost on Marra, who shoots me the same knowing glance as before. The door to the council chamber shuts, and the various heads of departments confer among themselves as to the situation. Some are enthusiastic about folding the infamous savagery of the Gold Crew into our own. Others are more slow to trust. I say little except when asked by Degginal as to my position. Even then, I keep my answer noncommittal:
“I think they could perform very well if given the right motivation,” I say. Of course, by “they” I mean “he”- and only Marra knows it. Her eye twinkles as I give my straight-faced answer, and Degginal nods, deep in thought and already weighing the next round of negotiating strategies. With a wave of his hand, he adjourns the council. As the men and woman rise from their seat, he quietly gestures for Marra to remain. Her and I share a pleasant smile as I walk out.
The smile vanishes the moment the door closes. It isn’t the first time that Marra and Degginal have stayed longer after a council meeting to confer among themselves. Such behavior isn’t unusual between a don and his consiglieri, but I find myself irritated regardless. It should be Victor advising the man. Or Pahn. Or me, with the way that I brought an entire system to the firm. Marrakech was no doubt talented, but-
My teeth clench as I walk down the executive corridor in tow behind the others. But she’s nothing but a second-rate pirate with a famous last name. If she was anyone else, she’d be in the seat of an Eagle or on her knees in Exotica. But Degginal and her father were close, and he wants the Morgan name to bolster that of Black Omega’s.
I pause, looking over my shoulder at the massive hardwood doors. Or maybe he wants something else. He was always doting on her as a child. And now that she’s all grown up…
I reluctantly discard the thought. No. If Degginal was in it to get his withered old prick wet, he’d have done so when you first proposed the arrangement to depose Jaz. Mon Dieu, if looks could kill....
Degginal DeVerre had not only rejected my subtle flirtations, but had shot me a look of utter contempt even as I tried them. I’d immediately changed tactics, and by the end of the meeting had arrived at an understanding with the Don. The man was all business and no pleasure, which was a rarity not only in Pegasi, but in the world of men as a whole.
Of course, perhaps women simply aren’t his style…
Again, I shook my head, resuming the walk down the luxurious corridor. Degginal DeVerre had never been seen in amorous company with anyone. I giggle to myself as I step into the executive lift.
Then he’s either totally dead between the legs or possessed of tastes beyond even Exotica’s ability to service.
My executive suite is large and well-appointed. Like the others, it has a giant picture window in the main room for me to gaze into the black. Business for the day was at an end, and after a long, luxurious bath, I’m padding around with an onionhead joint and a silk robe known archaically as a kimono. I couldn’t get too high or stay up too late- another long council meeting is scheduled for the morning. But I could at least relax in style.
Dinner is light- a neat pile of sushi, with real fish caught from the seas of Achenar and shipped all the way to Clair Dock. It’s only appropriate- I’m an Imperial, after all- and I deserve the finest of Imperial cuisine, even out here. The complex flavors of the soy and the fiery green paste dance in my mouth, complimenting the tingle of the onionhead perfectly. Washed down with sake, it’s the perfect way to end the night.
I frown, looking around the otherwise empty suite. Well, perhaps not perfect.
My thoughts drift to Fabrizzio. So young, so eager to please. Much like Apollonia before Marra sunk her hooks into her, except with the mindless carnal stamina of a young man. But there was more to him than that of a simple lover. After making love the first time, he had asked for a holo-locket of me. I was at first inclined to punish him for such a forward request, but now-
Now, I have someone who understands my true worth. He would do anything for me. In fact, he already is...
"I want to be you," he had said. Like Apollonia had once done, but with the willingness to take his devotion a step further. And so I assented, hand-feeding him the little pills that would change his body from that day forward.
Fabrizzio’s strong, rippling limbs were decidedly softer and thinner after only a few months. So too was his face and torso. There were times that he would undress me and simply stare at my body, not touching but simply marveling. Him doing so had made me feel more fulfilled than any act from any lover that I had ever had.
A soft chime echos through the suite, shaking me from my daydream. I don’t often receive guests in my private residence, and irritation threatens the pleasant buzz of the sake and onionhead. Irritating also is that I traveled to Tjakiri alone. Normally, Fabrizzio or one of my staff would see to the guest and only disturb me if it was a person worth receiving.
With a slight scowl, I wave my hands over the entry controls. The door slides open, and-
My heart pounds in my chest as a bolt of lust shoots down into my belly. Before me are the same golden dragons over the same muscled arms, above which is the same chiseled jaw and flowing blonde locks. Even standing still, I can sense the carnal power that the man possesses.
I don’t know how the envoy has learned where my suite is, not do I know how he was able to get past security and access the executive level. Not that it matters. What matters is that without a word, those golden dragons are wrapped around my body and his lips are on mine.
We leave a trail of clothes to the bedchamber. The first thing shed is my kimono, torn off in his carnal urgency. By the time the sheets are at my back, the only thing that separates us is the air.
Soon after that, it’s nothing at all.
Not a word is spoken, nor is none needed. Thoughts of Fabrizzio fade as the warm pressure in my body builds.
Perhaps it will be a perfect night, after all.