First Contact: The Strigoi by Millie Dynamite

[MillieDynamite]

"The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules. " (Rule 2.b.iii)

First Contact: The Strigoi

In the vast unknown, humanity’s newest contact
becomes its deadliest encounter.

Millie Dynamite

© Copyright 2024 by Millie Dynamite

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously—any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, or real events, is entirely coincidental.

The Strigoi

The Alliance of Worlds had never encountered a genuinely evil species.

On April 12, 1961, Yuri Gagarin was launched into space, and manned space exploration began. In the year 2064, the first colony on Mars was established. The year 2125 saw the first FTL engine development by Earth. The first contact with an alien species happened in 2130. The Alliance of Worlds was formed in 2368. Doctor Neculai Dumitru developed the first wormhole drive in 2858, and space travel became instantaneous.

By Earth’s 36th century, explorers from the Alliance of Worlds moved through the Milky Way galaxy, expanding known space. These brave people mapped the stars, met previously unknown races, and found new friends and a few foes. But in the thousand-plus years of the Alliance’s existence, in all their travels, they never encountered a genuinely evil species.

Until now!

****
Friday, October 1st, 3775

It was a pleasant day on Merritt Island, Florida, one of the old historic homes of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration’s facilities. Now, it was home to Alliance Space Fleets Operations on Earth. Admiral Leaf Ericson Quin’s office looked out over the blue-green waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

Captain Genevieve Boleyn sat across from Admiral Quin. The admiral was relaxed and held his coffee cup with his pinky extended in some ancient etiquette from over a thousand years before. He lay in his chair more than sitting there. Languid and easy, as if Genevieve were his best friend and they hadn’t a care in the galaxy.

As for Captain Boleyn, she was grateful to him. She’d been his first officer seven years before. She’d been promoted to Captain of the Pioneer WH2010 when Quin advanced to the admiralty two years before. Her promotion was primarily due to his recommendation. Genevieve positioned herself perched on the seat’s edge, her toes hovering an inch above the floor.

“You’ll like Gordon, Gene. He’s levelheaded, a bit… emotional, but you’ll drum that out of him,” Admiral Quin said.

“He’s not humorous, is he?”

“Not so much that’ll make you want to take a CPS or PPB and blow his head off.”

“Humor has its place, Leaf, but not on my bridge. I’m sorry, sir, I mean Admiral Quin.”

The admiral laughed; it was a relief to Quin that Genevieve could still let her guard down with him.

“As long as we’re alone, you can call me anything you want. I seem to remember you making use of the term asshole in our conversations on more than one occasion.”

“Is there a way to lower this seat, sir?”

“Gene, sit back, relax, and enjoy your coffee. Can’t you do that?”

“Sir.” One eyebrow raised, a sly smile curled on her lips, “After nine and a half years, you ask a stupid question like that, asshole‽”

Admiral Quin laughed again, louder and more enthusiastic, pleased she’d loosened up, if only for a moment. Genevieve Boleyn only smiled and sipped her coffee. She’d depart on her new assignment in two hours. Admiral Leaf Erickson Quin always enjoyed a tete-a-tete before she departed. He loved her like a daughter. He wondered how she felt about him.

Boleyn was inscrutable. He’d never seen a show of emotion beyond the briefest smiles. He’d never detected fear in the captain’s actions, face, or voice. If there were clues to her thoughts or feelings, he’d yet to discover her tell. She’d dress down a crew member without anger and switch to a complement afterward to lessen the sting.

What made her this way. Did her mother or father withhold love, or did both? Who knows? At that point, he had to address a sore spot between them. She’d been without a Chief Science Officer for over half a year.

“You’re Chief Medical Officer will need to continue performing the Chief Science Officer duty until I can arrange a replacement. I know it’s the second trek in a row, but the last six months haven’t been that bad, have they?” Admiral Quin asked.

“Why is it so hard to find me a new Science Officer?”

“I guess it’s like men. All the good ones are taken.”

“Hardy, har, har, sir,” Genevieve said in a mock laugh. A mock was about as close to laughter as he’d heard from her. Genevieve Boleyn didn’t understand humor or appreciate it, or perhaps her hard shell required her to forgo such pleasantries for fear that her practiced facade might crack.

Quin couldn’t help but wonder if anyone knew her at all.

“I swear, once I find one that’ll measure up, I’ll send him or her straight to you via WHD Transport.”

“I’m keeping the wormhole-capable shuttle when you do.”

After a few more minutes of friendly banter, Boleyn announced she needed to leave.

“Good luck, but be careful. The Andromeda picked up the welcome from this world. They had been on a mapping mission for two years. When they used the wormhole comm link, I ordered them to return to Earth and not to communicate with the planet. The message was in perfect Alliance Standard Language. I wanted my best Captain for First Contact.”

The compliment went unacknowledged. This was quite typical of Boleyn. For her, no one needed to stroke her ego. It didn’t affect her view of herself or them. There was also always an uncomfortable thought she wasn’t the best or wasn’t deserving of whatever praise they gave her. But this time, it was more an unknown race knowing their language.

“Them understanding our tongue is… fortuitous… but more than a shade suspicious.” Setting the coffee cup on the table beside her chair, she slid off the seat with grace and saluted her superior.

“Stop that.”

Her eyebrow cocked once more, and the grin from before became a toothy smile.

“Goch-ya!”

She smiled. By god, he thought, she actually made a joke and smiled.

Standing on the teleport pad, Genevieve closed her eyes as soon as the tingling invaded her body. Boleyn hated teleportation. The hum followed on the heels of the tingle, and then nothing. It was, for an instant, as though she no longer existed. In less than a heartbeat, the buzz returned, accompanied by the prickle, and both ended.

Genevieve opened her eyes.

“Commander Gordon, your commanding officer requests permission to come aboard her ship…”

“Permission granted, Madam Captain,” Gordon said, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“How quaint.” She squeezed hard and then released her grip. The strength in her tiny hands caught him off guard, and he flinched. As if not noticing his reaction, she turned her attention to the teleport officer. “Very smooth ride, POFC Micucci.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“I’ll be on the bridge in one hour, Mister Gordon. Can you manage to get us out of our solar system by then?”

“Yes, Madam Captain.”

“Well, that’ll be a pleasant surprise, Mister.”

On her way to her quarters, she sent a short text message to Elena Aodha, saying, “I still have to pull double duty.”

“We can discuss this later or not. I have other plans on my mind for you.”

Genevieve’s heart raced as she read the words. Refusing the urge to smile or return the flirtation, she turned her thoughts to the oddity of a species sending them a message in Alliance Standard.

The hour passed slow as molasses for Gordon and seemed but a blink of an eye for Boleyn. Captain Boleyn’s eyes gleamed with anticipation when she returned to the bridge and surveyed the crew.

“Ensign Mann, enter the coordinates into the nav system. Prepare the Wormhole Generator.”

The short captain tensed. A contained, coiled energy bristled in her tight body beneath her crisp uniform. She watched the helmswoman input the critical data to propel them into the unknown.

“Wormhole Engine spinning up, Captain,” Mann said, her tone steady despite the moment’s gravity.

Boleyn nodded, a slight furrow creased her brow. “Time to full charge?”

“Less than a minute, Ma’am.”

The bridge fell silent, save for the low thrum of machinery. Boleyn reflected as she considered possibilities and potential outcomes. Her thoughts were rampant. Captain Boleyn longed for action or something different. Companionship beyond that which regulations allowed.

“Drive at full capacity,” Mann said.

Boleyn’s order rang out, clear, commanding, “Punch us a whole in space… Let our adventure commence.”

“Now leaving Orion Spur, Captain, estimated arrival, two seconds from—” Mann said, touching the WH engagement icon… “now.”

A blinding flash, a few milliseconds of impossible pressure. The craft lurched beyond the event horizon, then—

The hole opened thirty-seven thousand light years from Earth in the central area of the Milky Way’s Perseus Arm Spiral, and the Pioneer emerged. The fissure collapsed as soon as they passed out of the same event horizon they’d entered.

Genevieve Boleyn perched on the edge of the chair, the tips of her shoes dangled just above the deck. Her stomach lurched when they entered the hole and continued until a few seconds after they exited.

Captain Boleyn’s calm expression never wavered.

“We’ve emerged, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Barrett said. “Wormhole has collapsed.”

“Captain, I’ve always wondered what happens if the hole breaks down before we exit?” Gordon asked.

“Nothing good,” Boleyn said.

Susana Mann’s eyes lit up. She knew the answer and thought, how better to impress the new first officer and my new captain than to give Gordon a lesson?

“The travel is instantaneous, Mister Gordon, sir. As soon as we enter one side, we exit the other. However, should a ship try to follow, it might end up with half the vessel where we started and the other half behind us. Or they could find themselves dead.”

Mann paused for a moment and cleared her mind. “One possible outcome… their ship ripped apart by the nothingness, which is nowhere and at no time, bits of flotsam and jetsam on both sides of points A and B. The debris scattered in the separate voids thousands of light years apart. And another, their ship bisected, drifting in the void but not all of them dead.” Ensign Mann said.

“Unpleasant, either way,” Captain Boleyn said. “Status report.” Her tone was crisp and authoritative, and her words almost barked rather than spoken. She carried the weight of command responsibility on her tiny shoulders.

The tale of woe, elaborated on by Mann, was a reminder that the crew members’ safety was foremost in Genevieve Boleyn’s thoughts. Seconds ticked by, charged with the quiet beeps and whirs of the ship’s sensors.

Space exploration was long periods of tedium and monumental boredom followed by moments of intense excitement. Genevieve Boleyn lived for those moments and endured the former to experience the latter.

“We’re receiving a transmission. It’s… in Alliance Standard.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the bridge. Boleyn’s eyes focused on the viewer. “On screen.”

The message came to life, a simple greeting of friendship, in text and spoken. But how? How could a pre-spaceflight civilization grasp their verbal communication? Mummers ran through the bridge of surprise and wonder.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we expected this. So, calm down,” Boleyn said.

Lieutenant Commander Piper Vanderhoff responded, “FTL Drive in standby, Captain. Hyper-scanners operational.”

Boleyn nodded curtly, her mind overwhelmed with good and bad prospects.

“Helmswoman,” Boleyn said, “when you can, please, take me to that signal.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

“Light Factor Four, Miss Mann. We’ll be there before the end of Gamma shift. Mister Allen lay in a course for the location of the message. Ensign Mann, please request Engineering to wind the FTL Hyperdrive.”

Captain Genevieve Boleyn stood, moved a few feet forward, and cast her eyes on the infinite stellar ocean visible on the viewer. The ship hummed with power. Its FTL-Drive system’s powering up growled low and spun to higher and higher pitches.

“Might I stay on duty until we arrive, Ma’am?”

“Yes, you may. But whatever shall the Gamma shift helmsman do while you pilot the ship?”

“Play cribbage,” Mann said, and the bridge crew laughed. “Sorry, Captain.”

“You should be. This is no laughing matter, people. First Contact is a solemn occurrence. Now, be sharp. Commander Gordon, please contact Mister Hess and tell him to spend his shift on the simulator.”

“Yes, Madam Captain.”

Four hundred and seventy-two crew members occupied the ship. The captain knew every member’s name, rank, job, and face. Every one of them treated with the same respect, absent any perception she liked or disliked any of them. This made her effective and efficient, but being the leader of all and friend to none had its cost.

But running her ship this way had its advantages. Every one of them would follow her orders. They’d live and die under her command, because she was the best captain in the fleet. Every one of the ship’s crew understood she had their best interest in her mind and heart. Though, some of them doubted her heart did anything but beat. If they only knew the truth.

“Coffee, Captain,” a pretty and young yeomanette asked. “I can whip it up quick as three shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“Tea, Darjeeling, please. Do I need to say hot?”

“No, Captain, I know the drill. The only thing I don’t know about your drink preferences is when you’ll want which.”

“If it makes you feel better, Miss Spicer, I never know myself until you ask.”

Captain Genevieve Boleyn rose and moved a few feet forward, concentrating on the vast expanse of stars visible on the primary monitor. The ship shuddered as the FTL reactor charged.

“FTL Drive at full capacity, Captain. Hyper-scanners operational.”

Boleyn nodded. She weighed what the outcome might be. The possibilities varied, and not nearly enough of them were good. The weight of responsibility pestered her mind, a constant reminder of the lives in her care.

“Helmswoman, engage.”

“Aye-aye, ma Capitaine.”

“Alliance standard will do, Ensign Mann. But thank you for the pleasantry,” Genevieve Boleyn said, suppressing the urge to smile or sound friendly.

“Your tea, Ma’am.”

The craft moved into hyperspace. The captain settled on the edge of her command chair and sipped her tea. Genevieve was in her proper place, and all was right in the universe, at least for the moment. Well, that was, if she could put her feet on the floor, everything would be right. Without moving her head, she snuck a peek at the empty science station and wondered what her lover was doing.

“We’ve but scratched the surface of the Perseus Arm,” Genevieve Boleyn said under her breath as she sat the empty cup on the table beside her.

Boleyn drummed against the arm of her chair. Patience had never been her strong suit. She craved action, contact, and the thrill of the unknown. And something else, something she dare not name in the company of others. Again, her eyes turned to the Science Officer station.

“Captain.” First Office Alastair Gordon approached, his tone friendly. “Perhaps we could discuss the mission parameters over a late dinner? I’ve some ideas I’d like to…”

Boleyn cut him off with an icy retort.

“My super will go uneaten tonight, Commander. I’m needed right here, right now, on my bridge.”

Gordon’s face fell, but he retreated without argument.

Boleyn felt a twinge of guilt, quickly suppressed. She couldn’t afford any additional attachments, not on the ship nor on this mission. Why does Gordon feel the need to establish a rapport beyond professional association? Hasn’t he heard I’m a card-carrying lesbian?

As the stars streaked by, Boleyn’s thoughts drifted to her quarters, to the unofficial comm unit hidden there. Would there be a message waiting? The possibility sent a thrill through her, a hungry ache she couldn’t ignore.

“Ma’am,” Vanderhoff said. “Long-range scanners have detected the exact source of the transmission. I’ve sent those coordinates to the helm console.”

Boleyn snapped back to reality and leaned forward. Her emotions boiled under the surface. At last, the adventure could start. She pondered if she was an action junky.

“Excellent, Vanderhoff. Miss Mann, take us there, and let’s see who or what we have found. Increase speed to light factor six point five.”

As the crew bustled around her, Boleyn almost showed a small, secret smile. The hunt was on, and she was ready for whatever the universe offered her.

Pioneer WH2010 dropped out of hyperspace. The FTL drive fell silent. The STL Solaris Reactor Propulsion engine fired up at the same instant the temporal stabilizer kicked in and prevented time from slowing down. The ship sliced through the void toward the planetary system ahead of them at three-quarters of the speed of light.

The closer they got to the friendship message, the slower their approach. The slower they moved, the less the temporal stabilizer had to adjust. It made a dull vibration underneath the throbbing of STL engines. It was all a familiar background noise in daily life onboard a starship.

Captain Genevieve Boleyn’s insides flooded with anticipation as Pioneer approached the alien world. The viewscreen twinkled to life, revealing a swirling hazy orb.

Captain Boleyn sat, bird-like. Her eyes darted, to-and-fro, from one bridge station to the next. She returned her gaze to the screen, and she transfixed on the monitor as the sphere came into better focus. Its surface was a patchwork of sickish greens, blues, and grays, like mottled flesh. Almost a Frankenstein globe sown together from bits and pieces of other worlds. But it wasn’t a jumble of other worlds, but a world that had evolved utterly different from other worlds they’d visited.

Even the oceans appeared spotty. With open water here, swamps there, and rocky shoals breaking the expanses with uninhabitable ridge-like islands.

“Sensors detecting humanoid life forms,” Vanderhoff said. There was a tinge of unease in her words. “But there’s something… off about their biosignatures.”

Boleyn clenched her jaw. “Elaborate.”

“They appear humanoid, Captain, but their cellular activity is… unusual. Almost like—”

“Like what, Commander?” Boleyn said. How she emphasized Vanderhoff’s rank and didn’t use her name showed her stellar, renowned impatience flaring.

Vanderhoff swallowed.

“Like they’re caught between life and death. This is my first, first contact, Captain,” Lieutenant Vanderhoff announced, her voice tinged with awe.

Genevieve’s pulse pounded, but her face remained an impassive mask. Years of training and preparation had honed her ability to project an aura of extraordinary calm and authority. Even as her mind reeled at the momentous occasion.

“Rest assured, Lieutenant, ‘tisn’t mine. Open a channel,” Boleyn said.

As Vanderhoff scrolled over the holo-inputs of the console, Genevieve allowed herself a fleeting moment of vulnerability. Her gaze drifted to the empty station where her secret lover often sat during any shift. The doctor’s absence left an ache in her chest that she suppressed.

Focus, Boleyn, she thought. Just think of it as though the fate of humanity rests, at this moment, on my tiny body and thoughtful decisions. Oh, sure, that’s a comfort.

Static crackled, then resolved into a litany of alien voices.

“Greetings, visitors. We welcome you in peace.”

Genevieve’s brows knitted. The words were in perfect Alliance Standard, just as the single voice had been when they exited the interstellar opening. How was that possible? A chill of unease flowed down her spine.

“This is Captain Genevieve Boleyn of the Allied Space Craft Pioneer. We come in friendship,” she said smoothly, pushing aside her misgivings.

“We are the citizens of Mort,” six to ten voices said in unison.

The viewscreen shifted, and the spokesman and an entourage of eight other individuals took the planet’s place. They had an oddish look about them. Humanoid and almost indistinguishable from her crew. Other than a slight deadish appearance of their grayish flesh. And yet, for all their similarities, something was disturbing about their appearance. Their eyes perturbed her the most, a pale blue cast across them with a different shade or color underneath.

Dead eyes, she thought. They have the eyes of the dead.

A catlike creature joined them. Its yellow and black tortoiseshell fur displayed through a sheer gossamer dress, and her bare nipples showed through. She was quite attractive and sensual. The Captain’s eyes darted to Ress Thorne, her own bipedal humanoid Felis.

It’s been said, once you’ve had cat, you never go back.

The creature on the screen spoke a soft chatter followed by three chirps, and Ress yowled a soft response. She wondered what’d been said, and with a tap of the tablet in her lap, Captain Boleyn checked.

You’re most attractive, the creature said.

Thank you, Ress Thorne responded. The language of this race was complicated. An Earth domestic cat has over 100 distinctly different sounds. A humanoid Felisa has tens of thousands of vocal capacities.

As the alien spokesman continued with flowery pleasantries, Genevieve’s mind wandered. Alpha shift couldn’t come soon enough. She’d stayed on duty from Beta shift to supervise the approach and contact with the race, who’d sent a greeting message through hyperspace comms. But now, with the tension, excitement, and dread of a new First Contact, the day grew long. She craved relief, needed to shed the mantle of command, and lose herself in her salacious yearnings.

“We desire only to please you and be your allies. To be trading partners and give you whatever you desire of us, from us, or anything we possess. We are a generous and giving people.”

The captain’s communicator vibrated subtly against her wrist. Genevieve’s pulse quickened as she carefully rolled her arm so she could check the message.

“Your quarters. 0200. Don’t be late.” Doctor Aodha shouldn’t use comm to comm from her issued unit for this message.

A rare smile tugged at her lips, but she held on with a tight defiance from such a show of emotion. And for now, duty called. But soon, she would find sweet oblivion in her lover’s arms.

She sent a quick message.

“Yes, we can discuss the scans of this world.” They wouldn’t review anything official, but this protected them from unwanted inspections.

Commander Alastair Gordon stepped onto the bridge, his broad shoulders tense as he approached Captain Boleyn. An unspoken tension between them bubbled to life as he approached her. Boleyn raised her and snapped a single finger up to keep Gordon from speaking.

“So, would you like to… um… how do you say this?” The man paused. “Oh, yes, teleport some people down here?” the diplomat asked. No one noticed he knew how they’d arrive on Mort’s surface. Most races don’t use energy teleporters. They use shuttles.

“Yes, we’d like to send a party down, accompanied by some security personnel. Once the security personnel are satisfied, most of them will come back to the ship. Afterward, the Away Party will stay and discuss trade matters. Want to get to know you and do some preliminary negotiations.”

“We find this acceptant. Will you be joining the away people, Captian?”

“Not at this time. There are standard protocols, and I must obtain clearance to go planet-side.”

“I understand,” a voice came from behind the diplomat, “in your native tongue, ‘Jusqu’à ce que nous nous retrouvions,’ Madam Captain.”

“Who is that, and how do you understand French?”

“I am Fatum, Queen of Strigoi. Oh, let me think. I must’ve picked it up from a visitor in the past, mon amie.” She stayed in the dark out of sight, a soft, tall, sumptuous glow in shadows behind the others.

“Captain. The landing party is ready for deployment.”

Genevieve’s eyes shifted to her First Officer, cold and dismissive.

“Very well, Commander. Proceed.” She turned back to the screen. “If you’ll transmit your location coordinates, I’ll have my team teleport to you.”

“Certainly,” the diplomat said.

“Au revoir pour l’instant,” Captain Boleyn said. The screen shifted back to the view of the landscape of Strigoi below. “Well, that was… strange.” In her mind, the word fucking strange blossomed fully formed.

Alastair started to speak, hesitated, and then pressed on with his request.

“Ma’am, I’d like to volunteer for the mission. My expertise could—”

“Denied,” she said, cutting him off with a harsh word followed by her explanation. “Your place is here, Commander. My right hand, as it were. Yes, I need you on the bridge. One of us must be here every moment until this mission is completed.”

His hands clenched into fists, but he nodded. He wondered if his predecessor left to command a crew of mostly his own race or to escape from her. Supposedly, she trusted Antes Tronus implicitly. How long until the illustrious Captain Boleyn trusted him even a bit?

“Understood, Captain.”

“Don’t pout, Commander. You’ll get to play in some sandbox somewhere, sooner or later.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, feeling a slight chill of humiliation and a sudden rush of excitement. Was she flirting with me? Alastair didn’t know. After all, this was his first cruise with her. Her reputation preceded her, and flirtations weren’t something she did. No, Gordon realized, she put me in my place.

An agitation grew inside Ress Thorne. The tip of her tail twitched in a constant throb, her throat tightened, and pestering blossomed in her mind while a distinct tension took over low inside her. A familiar but unwanted moisture thickened, and heat awakened.

Not now, she thought.

As Alastair turned away, Lieutenant Commander Cyia Barrett strode in, her face alert. “Security teams are prepared and standing by, Captain.”

Genevieve’s gaze softened imperceptibly. “Excellent work, Lieutenant Commander. I want you to personally oversee the landing crew’s safety protocols.”

Cyia’s eyes widened. “But Captain, my duties as Head of Security—”

“Are precisely why I need you on this, Barrett,” Genevieve said. “Something about this situation isn’t right. These people speak our language. I want our best watching their backs.”

As Cyia nodded and moved to comply, Genevieve’s thoughts drifted for a moment. The situation was almost suffocating her. She longed for the ecstasy that awaited her in a few scant hours when she could shed her responsibilities and lose herself in physical gratification.

But for now, duty called. And Genevieve Boleyn would be damned if she let her personal desires interfere with the safety of her crew and the success of their mission.

“To my knowledge, no Earth or Alliance vessel has ever traveled to this sector before Andromeda,” First Officer Alastair Gordon said.

“Mine either. However, Earth’s history in space stretches back more than 1800 years. I’m not acquainted with all or close to all the exploits of galactic travel back to the inception of FTL, are you?”

“No, Madam Captain.”

“SFC, Ress Thorne—would you like to join the away team?” Boleyn asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, scoot, and when you get there, talk with your kindred.”

“I’m not all that confident we talk in the same dialect,” Thorne said.

Genevieve held up her pad. “I believe you’re mistaken. If you wish, I can read it to you.”

“No, Captain, that isn’t necessary. Permission to speak freely?”

“Granted.”

“She isn’t my kindred, nor my kith or kin. She’s something different. I… I… sensed this darker nature in our brief exchange. Something malevolent.”

“We are in geosynchronous orbit on this planet. Helmswoman, what is the distance between us and the transmission point on the surface?”

“Ma’am, it’s 38,982 kilometers, which is further than necessary at Earth for the same stationary position.”

“Nonetheless, I’m telling you, she’s something different, very much different to me.”

“Ress, you have your orders.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” Ress Thorne turned and exited the bridge. The lift doors slid shut, and she slumped against the wall, allowing her tail to swish about in agitation, and she let a caterwaul slip from her throat. Settling into a soft, quiet purr, trying to calm herself, she was determined to do her duty.

Lieutenant Commander Piper Vanderhoff stood at attention before Captain Boleyn. Her posture was rigid, but her eyes were wide, and she struggled to contain her excitement.

“Communications systems are primed and ready, Captain. We’ve established a clear channel with the Strigoi delegation.”

Genevieve scrutinized her Third Officer. “And the universal translators?”

“Fully operational, ma’am. We’ve already received preliminary linguistic data. The syntax is… unusually familiar. It almost has a Latin-based sound and structure. We should have no trouble communicating.”

A ghost of a smile touched Genevieve’s lips. “Well done, Vanderhoff. I want you to lead the excursion. Your expertise in xenolinguistics will be crucial.”

“But we don’t need to use the translator. They know our language.”

“I’m not worried about what they tell us. My concern lies in what they say to one another that we mightn’t understand. Not every race is interested in unconditional friendship. Not every race has honorable intentions. Miss Vanderhoff, this is where you are invaluable. Your educated ear might pick up on something beyond what the translator does.”

Piper’s chest swelled with pride. But Lieutenant Frederick Thompson burst onto the bridge before she could respond. His usually immaculate uniform rumpled from his work.

“Captain!” he exclaimed, exhaling. “I’ve just finished the final diagnostics on the teleportation systems. There’s something you need to know.”

Genevieve’s eyes flashed. “This had better be important, Lieutenant, or I’ll have you scrubbing all the sonic showers for a month.”

It would be dangerous for Fredrick’s relationship with his captain if it wasn’t a necessary disruption. Frederick swallowed hard.

“It’s the radiation levels on Mort’s surface, ma’am. They’re… fluctuating… doing so in ways I’ve never seen before. They seem almost organized or controlled. It could interfere with our ability to maintain a stable lock on the team members.”

The captain’s eyes flared with anger. “And you’re just bringing this to my attention now, Thompson?”

“I wanted to be certain, Captain. I’ve triple-checked the readings. Any of our operators can compensate. However, constant monitoring and adjustments will be required to maintain the locks on our personnel.”

“Are the radiation levels dangerous to our life form?”

“No, Madam Captain, they aren’t.”

“What about Miss Thorne? She’s a Caitian.”

“No, our Felis Humanoidous will be A-Okay-us.” No one broke out in laughter. They stifled the urge, remembering the captain’s displeasure at the last joke. But many cleared their throats or let out a hushed chortle.

“Don’t be cutesy, Mister.”

The emphasis placed on the mister was harsh, and he realized he’d crossed the line with humor. He knew better than to do that. The Captain didn’t tolerate humor on the bridge or even on duty.

“Sorry, ma’am, won’t happen again.”

Genevieve weighed the risks against the potential rewards of this first contact. The prickling expectation she’d felt earlier gave way to an all too common, icy dread.

“Vanderhoff, you have ten minutes to brief your team on these unexpected developments. Thompson, I want you on that away mission. Your engineering expertise may prove invaluable.”

As her officers scrambled to comply, Genevieve indulged in a moment of weakness, closing her eyes for a glimpse of her lover’s image in her mind. The price of command, she mused, a bitter taste in her mouth. Always the price of command. Worry not about tomorrow. Today’s travails will suffice, she thought. Where is that from? She wondered.

“Mister Gordon, go to teleport station four and see our away team off.”

“On my way.”

The selected crew members assembled. Commander Gordon’s gaze lingered on Ress Thorne. The Caitian’s feline features highlighted her unease but also showed a mask of determination.

“Be cautious,” First Officer Gordon warned. “Something’s not right about this or these people. Godspeed, it’s an old Earth saying. It’s intended as a good luck charm. So, Godspeed to you all, return to us safe and sound. Miss Micucci, transmat now.”

Stacey Micucci locked coordinates and swiped the holographical control. There was a drone of energy, and the team disappeared.

[MillieDynamite]

Milliseconds later, the group materialized in the chamber. They found themselves in a grand, decaying hall. Before them stood a group of beings that, at first glance, appeared human. But as Vanderhoff looked closer, she saw the telltale signs of decay. Sunken eyes, whitish or gray skin, an aura of wrongness about the lot of them that made her skin crawl.

A regal figure stepped forward, flanked by what appeared to be attendants. “Welcome, I am Fatum. Queen of Mort, supreme ruler of the Strigoi. We’ve been expecting you.”

Vanderhoff fought to keep her normal tone and not sound too surprised. “How is it you know our language?”

The Queen’s lips stretched into a grotesque smile. “We have… ways of acquiring knowledge. Perhaps you’d like to learn more?”

Vanderhoff felt a strange pull as the Queen spoke, a desire to step closer. She shook her head, trying to clear it. What was happening to them?

Vanderhoff’s temple throbbed as the Queen’s gaze locked onto hers. Their pupils dilated and contracted in unison. The surrounding air seemed to thicken, charged with unsettling force. It invaded her as if pressed inside her by the sheer will of the woman.

Surrender, the thought, fully formed, pestered her. Capitulate to this superior being. She Vanderhoff struggled to push the persistent invader from her mind.

“We would be… honored to learn more,” Vanderhoff said, her speech huskier than usual. She glanced at Thompson, noticing a sheen of sweat on his brow.

The Queen’s consort, a tall, gaunt figure, stepped forward.

“Perhaps we could retire to more… comfortable quarters?” His manner was like silk sliding over stone, clinging here or there inside their minds. Something uncomfortable bore deeper into the psyche and nettled at their baser needs and emotions.

Surrender, give into the pleasure, filled their minds.

Vanderhoff nodded, unable to refuse. As they followed the royal couple, she tapped her communicator. “Vanderhoff to Pioneer. The situation stable, but… strange. We’re continuing diplomatic dialogues and a more personal exchange. Oh, god, that feels…”

Back on the ship, Captain Boleyn frowned at the odd pause in Vanderhoff’s report. Something felt off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She paced the bridge, stress coiled inside her muscles.

“Explain,” the captain said. “What did you say?”

Eventually, the communications officer continued.

“Oh, nothing, Captain. Vanderhoff out.”

The signal died.

Vanderhoff found herself seated between the Queen and her consort in the Strigoi palace. Their conversation drifted from politics to culture, each topic laced with innuendo.

“Your species seems so… alive, full of energy… extremely vital, so much sexual longings… with pangs of hunger. Such sweet, savory appetites,” the Queen said. Her words tunneled into Piper’s brain as the Queen’s hand brushed the uniform on Vanderhoff’s thigh. The contact went deep inside her, inspiring inappropriate thoughts and emotions.

“We’d love to… explore you… dig into your… potential… your energy… your lives.” Fatum’s long, gaunt fingers found their way between Piper Vanderhoff’s legs, and she clutched her crotch. Her thumb found and circled the woman’s clit through the uniform while she massaged her labia.

Vanderhoff’s breath caught. “I… we’re… we are… oh, umm… we’re… here on… a diplomatic…. mission, oh, so good,” she said, even as her body yielded to the touch.

The consort’s lips grazed her ear.

“Diplomacy takes many forms, my dear.”

The Queen’s tongue, long and wet, slithered across Piper’s cheek and traced down to her mouth. The Queen locked her lips to Piper Vanderhoff’s and thrust her tongue deep inside the Lieutenant’s mouth.

Vanderhoff’s resolve crumbled. Her last coherent thought was of the ship above, unaware of the danger below. Something left Piper… a precious thing… a piece of her lost, taken by Queen Fatum. Something dark and persistent took its place. A pestering appetite of yearning flared in her mind and body.

And a fire of sex energy exploded inside Piper.

****
Zero Two Hundred Hours, Captain’s Quarters

The passion between Genevieve and Elena was unmistakable as they embraced each other. Their lips fastened in a deep, blissful kiss. Genevieve’s petite frame was dwarfed by Elena’s height. Their connection electrified as their hands explored each other’s bodies.

Elena’s fingers ran through Genevieve’s short blonde hair and gently pulled Genevieve closer to her succulent lips. Their tongues tangled together. Tasting the sweetness of each other’s mouths. Genevieve’s hands caressed the curves of Elena’s body. She stroked the swells of Elena’s breasts and the narrowness of her waist.

Their passion grew more intense as they undressed each other. Peeling off layers of uniforms and underclothing. Kicking off shoes. Revealing the beauty of the two bodies beneath the trappings of wardrobe. Genevieve gasped as Elena’s touch grazed Boleyn’s sensitive skin, sending shivers up her backbone.

Fingers thrust, mouths crashed together, and bodies moved as one.

As their bodies collided, Elena took control. Guiding Genevieve down onto the bed. She kissed her way down Genevieve’s chest. Teasing each nipple with the softest licks before taking them into her mouth. Genevieve moaned in delight, arching her back under Elena’s skilled touch.

Elena then parted Genevieve’s legs and gazed at her glistening, shaved cunt. Her hands drew a fiery trail across Genevieve’s belly before dipping lower. Teasing the entrance to her womanhood. Genevieve squirmed under Elena’s skillful touch, eager for more.

As Elena and Genevieve’s passionate encounter continued, their bodies writhed in a rhythmic motion of mutual lust. Elena, the taller of the two women with her radiant red hair tangled around them, took control. Her green eyes locked onto Genevieve’s as she pushed three fingers deeper into her lover’s tight pussy.

“Fuck, Genevieve, you feel so… motherfucking… good.”

Genevieve, a petite blonde whose body seemed made for sin, arched her back in response. Meeting Elena thrust for thrust. Her moans echoed off the walls as their skin slapped together in a sensual mixture of sounds. Their clits ground together, and they tongue fucked each other’s mouths.

“Elena.” Genevieve dug into Elena’s shoulders as she ascended to the heights of carnality. “Yes… Oh god, yes!”

Genevieve’s wall comm screeched, “Engineering to Captain.”

“Fucking shit,” Genevieve said. Rolling out of bed, she went to the unit and patted it. “What is it?”

“Just a second, Madam, Captain.”

The whir of the vessel’s systems seemed to crescendo as Ensign Felicity Klause hunched over her console in Engineering. She moved across the virtual interface from one point to another, attempting to fix the flaw. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her strawberry blonde hair escaped its tight bun in wisps around her face.

“Damn it.” Her eyes glanced between readouts. Reaching for the comm unit on the console, she swiped unmute. “Captain, we’ve got a problem with the Wormhole Unit.”

Captain Boleyn’s words spat through the com. “Explain, Ensign. And be quick.”

Felicity hesitated and said, “There’s a fluctuation in the quantum field matrix. It’s causing micro-magnetic fissures in the drive’s magnetronic containment bubble. If we don’t stabilize it soon—”

“I don’t need the technical nonsense, Klause. Can you fix it?”

“I… I think so, Captain. But I’ll have to take it offline and power it down completely, which’ll take time. And I can’t guarantee—”

“You have two hours, Ensign. Not a minute more. Boleyn out.”

The signal ended with an unceremonious silence. And the two lovers picked up where Klause interrupted them.

“Yes, ‘um, I’ll be jiffy quick.” Felicity’s stomach churned. She knew the captain’s reputation for being ruthlessly efficient, but this… this was madness. She reached for her tools, mind racing through possibilities.

Later, the sick bay’s green walls bathed in reduced light. Conforming with Alfa Shift’s preset settings. Simulating late-night exterior lighting effect planet-side. Which was fine for reading or minding the store in an empty medical unit or with resting patients. However, it’s not ideal or suitable for anyone working for a living.

“This can’t be right,” Doctor Elena said to herself.

“What is it, Doctor?” Captain Boleyn’s statement startled her. She hadn’t heard Boleyn enter.

Elena turned, meeting Genevieve’s piercing gaze.

“The exploration team’s bio-readings. They’re… changing.”

Genevieve’s thoughts narrowed to what the Science Officer meant. “Changing how?”

“I’m not sure yet. The change is at a molecular level. And whatever’s happening down on that biosphere, it’s rewriting them, maybe right down to their genes. Fast.”

“Options?” Genevieve Boleyn asked.

Elena hesitated.

“We need to get them back. Now. Before the changes become irreversible.”

Genevieve nodded. “Do it.” As the captain turned to leave, Elena caught her arm.

“Genevieve, my precious pet, this is beyond anything we’ve encountered. We might be in over our heads.”

Genevieve’s mask dropped for a moment, revealing a flicker of vulnerability. Then it was gone, replaced by steel.

“We always are, Elena. That’s why they sent us. In the galaxy’s exploration, everyone is expendable. So long as we advance the knowledge necessary to survive. And Elena, don’t call me Genevieve or pet here.”

“Sorry, Madam Captain.”

****
Erstwhile, on Mort

Ress Thorne’s fur bristled as she felt an invisible force tugging at her consciousness. Across the lavishly decorated chamber, Shibō’s eyes locked onto hers, a ravenous gleam in their depths. The Caitian felt her legs moving of their own accord. Drawn towards the Strigoian priestess against her will.

“What’s… happening to me?” Ress chattered. Her words packed with unexpected, undesirable demands.

Shibō’s lips curled into a seductive smile.

“Embrace it, my lovely feline. Let our minds and bodies intertwine.”

As their bodies met, Ress gasped at the intensity of the physical and psychic connection. In a brilliant flash, images flooded her mind. Centuries of Strigoian history, rituals, and an insatiable hunger that transcended physical needs. Then, in the distant recesses of the almost forgotten past, she saw them. These same Stirigoians teleported to starships to take them away from the angry red planet below them.

She recognized what she saw, but it had a more rarefied atmosphere at that ancient time. Dust storms rolled over the surface, pelting the buildings. Which were fewer than when Ress trained there. The vision overwhelmed her, and Ress breathed out the name.

“Mars, long, long ago.”

These beings she saw were Strigoian from centuries or a millennium before. More recognizable, more alive, more… human. Then, Thorne lost herself in the throes of passion. The pair peeled off their clothes as they explored one another’s bodies and minds.

Nearby, Nancy Herlihy writhed in the arms of a Strigoian male, her eyes wide with a mixture of ecstasy and terror.

“This isn’t right,” she said, even as she arched against her partner’s cold, deathly gray skin.

The Stirgoian pounded inside her. Filling her and stretching her, pumping deep inside and, at the same instant, sucking some of her away. She weakened with each thrust. Nancy’s mind melted into his. Her will surrendered to his power.

Frederick Thompson found himself sandwiched between two Strigoian females. Their hands explored his body with unsettling eagerness.

“We should… report in,” he said, his resolve weakening with each caress.

“Later,” Herlihy said.

“Yes,” Fredick said. “Much later.”

One of the women’s mouths found his stiff rod and enveloped it in a warm, wet sheath. All the way down to the base, she worked a kind of magic on him. Her tongue lapped at his balls. The other’s tongue invaded his mouth, slinking into his throat.

As the Strigoians’ psychic influence deepened, coherent thoughts became harder to grasp. The expedition members felt their very essence being drained. An alien presence that whispered eternal unity and unending indulgence. This, mingled with a fearful, deadly intent, replacing what she lost.

Ress clawed at Shibō’s back, her passionate cries turning to low, guttural growls. She watched in fascination as her fur receded. Her newly exposed flesh took on a pallid, corpse-like hue, a grayish, half-decayed tone.

“What… what are you doing to me?” she said in breathy half-hissed, gasping.

Shibō’s eyes glowed with an ethereal light. And still, they were vacant of any sign of life.

“We are becoming one, my love. Soon, you’ll understand the beauty of our existence.”

As the transformation progressed, Ress felt her individual autonomy slip away. Subsumed by the collective consciousness of the Strigoian’s almost hive mind. Her last independent thought was of the Pioneer, orbiting far above.

They must be blissfully unaware of the danger threatening to consume us all.

Soft moans and groans of unabandoned bliss, wild yowls, screeching caterwauls, and howls of human and feline mingled. They discarded their comm units on their wrists amid the orgy’s fervidness.

Morning came, and Beta shift dawned as all the lighting rose while below on Mort night descended.

Petty Officer First Class Stacey Micucci worked the teleporter console in transmat room five. Her brow furrowed in concentration. The team’s bio-signatures had become more erratic. Which made it impossible to lock onto them.

“Dammit.” slamming her palm against the console. “Captain, I can’t get a solid lock. Their patterns are… shifting somehow.”

“Explain, Micucci. Now.” Captain Boleyn’s order barked through the comm, terse and cold.

Stacey gulped, her throat dry.

“It’s like their signal is in flux, ma’am. I’ve seen nothing like this. If their comm units were transmitting to us, I could get them. But they aren’t. I don’t think they’re even wearing them.”

She glanced up as Senior Chief Petty Officer William A. Murdock entered the teleporter room, his face grim. He nodded to her before addressing the captain over the comm. He looked as if he hadn’t slept.

“Security sweeps complete, Captain. No sign of intruders, but…” he said and then stopped.

“Speak freely, Murdock.”

Murdock clarified his thoughts.

“Something’s not right. The crew is on edge. Reports of strange noises… shadows moving where they shouldn’t. It’s like we exchanged something in the teleport stream. Or brought it back when the escorts returned.”

Stacey felt a chill run through her marrow. She thought of the crew-people lost on that nightmarish world. What if they weren’t the only ones affected?

“Keep me updated. And Micucci, I want those teleporter locks on my fucking crew. Whatever it takes.”

As the communication cut off, Stacey met Murdock’s eyes.

“What the hell do you think is happening?” she asked, hushed and low.

Murdock shook his head, his expression haunted as he struggled to understand.

“I don’t know. But I’ve got a sense we’re in for one hell of a fight.”

Ensign Susanna Mann entered instructions into the helm controls. Her brow wrinkled in concentration. The Pioneer hummed beneath her. The ship, almost a living thing, responded to her every command. But something felt off, a subtle wrongness in the craft’s movements.

The ship was neither sluggish nor as responsive as expected. The Pioneer seemed to be in two states, the same as the world beneath them.

“Helm to Captain. We’re experiencing minor fluctuations in the STL static field. I’m compensating, but…”

“But what, Ensign?” Captain Boleyn’s question cut through the air, sharp as a blade. “Spit it out.”

Susanna sucked in a deep breath, fighting the inclination to shrink under the captain’s tone.

“It’s like the ship is… resisting, ma’am. FTL’s field is also… disrupted… I’ve felt nothing like this before. If we need to move faster than light or form an intake, a wormhole, we’re…” she stopped and swallowed the word she wanted to use, “out of luck.”

“I’ll be in my quarters.”

Captain Genevieve Boleyn paced her quarters. Her mind and body were alive with tensions and needs. The silence from the away team gnawed at her gut. She touched her comm unit on her bedside table, her manner restrained.

“Doctor Aodha, my quarters. Now.”

Moments later, Elena entered, her eyes questioning. Genevieve’s mask of authority slipped, revealing a flicker of vulnerability.

“We’ve lost them, Elena,” she said, brushing the doctor’s arm. “The team, the wormhole drive, teleport, the hyperdrive, everything. I’m afraid I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Elena scowled.

“What do you mean, lost them?”

“Comms are down. The drives are malfunctioning. It’s like we’re cut off from the universe.” Genevieve’s words hardened. “And I can’t shake the feeling those… fucking things, those… Strigoians are behind it.”

Elena stepped closer, her breath warm on Genevieve’s neck. “What are you thinking, Gene?”

Genevieve’s eyes flashed. “I’m thinking we may need to take drastic action. But first…” She pulled Elena close, her lips hungry. “I need you to help me think clearly.”

As they embraced, Genevieve’s emotions swelled. Was she letting her desires cloud her judgment? Or was this moment of intimacy what she needed most to prepare herself for the tough decisions ahead?

They fell on the bed, stripping each other’s clothing off their hungry bodies. Genevieve’s lips found Elena’s nipple, and Elena tugged down Genevieve’s panties. Elena’s tongue sunk inside Gene’s pussy as Genevieve lapped at the other’s outer labia.

As they moved together in perfect sync, it was clear these two women were more than lovers. They were soulmates. Bound by an unbreakable connection transcending time and space. Their every touch ignited sparks of passion within each other. Fueling their lustful fire until there was nothing left but raw emotion and physical intensity.

Tongues explored, lapped, and licked. They lovingly bite each other’s clits.

After what seemed like hours but probably only minutes, Elena felt the usual euphoria building inside her. She pulled away from Genevieve’s wet pussy lips and let out a guttural snarl as she came hard against her lover’s soft, luscious mouth. Her muscles tensed and spasmed uncontrollably as wave after wave of orgasmic bliss coursed through her body.

She thrusts her fingers into Genevieve’s moist, hot cunt. Over and over, guiding her, edging her nearer and nearer.

Elena held on tight as Genevieve shuddered with her climax. Feeling their powerful mutual contractions deep inside their bodies as they enraptured together. When it was over, Elena collapsed onto the bed beside her exhausted lover, their hearts still beating in unison.

“That was incredible,” Genevieve said into the silence that followed their passionate encounter. “Thank you.”

Elena smiled weakly before leaning over to kiss Genevieve one last time on the forehead before drifting off to sleep. Elena dreamed of their next erotic adventure together. At the same time, Genevieve lay awake thinking about all the problems on the ship and with those below.

[MillieDynamite]

****
Meanwhile, on Mort

Lieutenant Piper Vanderhoff scrubbed the floor of a Strigoian dwelling. Her movements were mechanical without thought. Her mind fogged and disconnected from actions or coherent thoughts. She registered the cold, clammy hand that caressed her back.

“Very good, my sweet, delicious pet,” her Strigoian master said. “When you’re done, you’ll join us for the hunt.”

Piper nodded, her eyes vacant, close to lifeless. But deep in her subconscious, a small part of her screamed in protest. That voice grew fainter with each passing moment, drowned out by the alien presence in her mind. Her agency sucked away from her, lost to something darker than even her lust.

In a nearby clearing, Frederick Thompson watched with detached fascination as his Strigoian mistress gutted a strange, six-legged creature. She offered him a piece of raw, quivering flesh.

“Eat. Nourish yourself for our next coupling.”

Frederick’s stomach turned, but he obeyed. Unable or unwilling to resist the command. As he chewed the bitter meat, he sensed his humanity slipping away and being replaced by an insatiable hunger for more. What that more was he couldn’t say… He must free himself.

But how? It dawned on him that they were consuming his essence, his life, and making it theirs.

****

With a silent, lithe grace that was innately feline, a figure stepped into the dim light of the chamber. It was an uncanny hybrid of human and feline, cloaked in a vibrant tortoiseshell pattern of yellow and black. A shimmering coat of fur, glossy in the low light, covered its muscular body. Its eyes a pair of golden orbs covered by a transparent blue haze. Eyes that held alien intelligence that was both intimidating and fascinating at once.

In stark contrast to the vibrant creature, Ress Thorne lay on the cold floor, stretched in an ungraceful broken sprawl. Her physical exhaustion was as profound as death. Every muscle protested the exertion of the strange yet intoxicating couplings with the hermaphrodite creature from another world. Death would be a relief. Only she knew death here wouldn’t be an end.

The hermaphrodite passed the cat creature, and they exchanged a knowing glance.

Ress’s usual neat and tidy appearance was marred by the state of her fur. A matted and tangled mess with missing splotches dotted her body. This bore evidence of their frenzied encounters and the changes happening to her. Yet beneath the visible disarray, the fur returned to its usual sleek state.

The other feline humanoid broke the silence. Its soft purring and chatter rang with a weird timbre.

“I am Bothoid.” The other creature announced itself with casual nonchalance. Its gaze fixed on Ress, its eyes glinting with an unreadable emotion.

Without warning, Bothoid sprang forward, its body arching in a graceful arc as it pounced on the weary woman. The sudden movement sent a ripple through its tortoiseshell fur. It positioned Ress under it on all fours.

The other cat creature’s thorned cock slammed inside her pussy. The room echoed with the soft thud of bodies colliding, followed by a breathless gasp from Ress.

They lay entangled on the cold floor for a moment, their bodies outlined in the filtered room’s seemingly source-less light. Bothiod’s hip slammed against her ass and tail in a rough and brutal frenzy.

“You’re a queen, how?” Ress Thorn asked.

“I’m both, cunt. A queen and a tom, soon, you’ll become another Strigoi, and perhaps, you’ll also be hermaphrodite. They can change others in so many ways.”

“I don’t want to be Strigoi.” Ress yowled.

She couldn’t fight the delight. Rees moaned in agony and excitation, her tail twitching. Her fur stood on end as he pulled it roughly, digging his claws into her skin. She bit her lip, trying to hold back her cries of agony. Bothoid’s hips slammed into her, his spiky prick piercing her, stretching her insides to their limit.

Locking his fangs into her neck’s nap, holding her from moving away.

“You like that, don’t you?” it growled in her ear. “You like being fucked by me.” He grabbed her hair between her ears and forced her to look back at him. His eyes glowed with lust and power. His cock throbbed, ready to discharge its load inside her.

Ress Thorne gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the hurt. She hated this creature, hated what he was doing to her. But Thorne also couldn’t deny the intense rush of pleasure surging through her body. She wanted him to cum, wanted him to fill her up with his alien seed.

Bothoid picked up the pace, fucking her harder and faster. His cock throbbed inside her, hitting her cervix with every powerful thrust. He moved in, his hot breath tickling her ear.

“Cum for me,” he said.

Ress’s body shook with an intense orgasm. Her walls clenched around his cock. Bothoid growled and hissed in approval. His hips bucked wildly as he shot his load deep inside her. His hot seed flooded her, making her complete and satisfied, along with humiliated and disgusted.

But the enraptured agony was short-lived. The singular, unmoderated anguish returned, and Ress Thorne understood she had to escape. She pushed Bothoid off her, rolling onto her side. It growled in frustration, reaching for her again.

She dodged his grasp and scrambled to her feet.

With one last glance at her attacker, she turned and counterattacked him. Launching herself into it, her claws dug into its chest. Ress knocked him to the floor. Opening her mouth, Ress clamped her fangs and teeth into his throat and violently tore his neck open.

She released her grasp and pulled back. With her anger spent, her mind cleared. Ress Thorn fought out of instinct and for survival. But something was still wrong inside her. Gazing at the creature, she had a sudden desire to lap its blood but pushed down the vile impulse.

The blood pulsed from the open wound. But it didn’t spurt or spay. It flowed steadily and slowly. Soon, the blood seeped from the laceration. Ress Thorne rose, cleaning its blood from her mouth and face, and examined the room. Seeing her comm unit, she snatched it off the table and ran. Her tail swished behind her. She couldn’t escape the alien’s scent. The tale-tale scent of death and dying overwhelmed the entire globe.

Ress knew others would be after her. Once outside, she put the comm on her wrist and touched the connect icon.

“Thorne to Pioneer! One to teleport. Teleport now… oh, dear lord, please, transport me, right this mom…”

The teleport room hummed to life as Ress Thorne materialized, her fur matted and eyes wild.

“ent. Get me… to sickbay,” she said. Thorn’s utterance was a shadow of its usual felineish purr. “The others… we have to rescue them.” She stumbled off the pad, collapsing into the arms of the waiting med team. They carried her away on a hover gurney.

Soon, they moved her to a med-bed. Commander Doctor Elena Aodha’s hands flew over the bio-bed controls in sickbay. Her expression distorted with concentration. Ress lay prone, her chest heaving with labored breaths.

“What in the Alliance’s name happened down there?” Elena muttered, studying the readouts. Her eyes widened. “This can’t be right…”

Ress’s body convulsed, her back arching off the bed. As Elena watched in horror, the Caitian’s features seemed to blur. Shifting between her normal appearance and something… else. Something dead, yet still alive and ravenous.

“Doctor,” Ress said, her eyes fixed on Elena with grasping intensity. “I need… I need…”

Elena backed away, reaching for a hypo-spray. “Easy now, Ress. We’re going to figure this out.”

Ress lunged faster than possible in her condition. Her claws raked the air inches from Elena’s face as the doctor dodged and stepped away several feet.

“Computer, containment field isolate Ress Thorne!” Elena shouted, her blood pounded in her ears.

The shimmer of the barrier sprang up just as Ress slammed against it. An agonized yowl filled the room.

“I need… do you hear me… I need… to fuck you… possess you… feed on you…” Ress said in a chattering clamor, a bizarre mix of seduction and menace. “Let me taste you, Elena. Let me inside you… let my tongue lap your succulent folds and suck your sweet, human cunt’s moisture.”

Elena trembled as she prepared a potent sedative.

“I’m sorry, Ress,” she said. Deactivating a small section of the containment to administer the hypo-spray, she pressed it to Ress’s leg and pushed the button.

As Ress slumped unconscious.

Elena’s comm chirped. “Doctor Aodha to the bridge immediately,” Captain Boleyn said. Her crisp intonation broke the tensions inside the doctor.

“On my way.” Casting one last worried glance at Elena’s patient before hurrying out. “I’ll be back, Ress. I promise I’ll figure this out.”

Senior Chief Petty Officer William A. Murdock stood at attention on the bridge, his face ashen.

“Captain, you need to see this.”

The main viewscreen flashed to a new view, revealing a haunting scene.

“Ma’am, there are thousands, no, tens of thousands of derelict ships. I’ve been scanning these craft for ten minutes.”

The vessels hung suspended in the void like a strange necropolis of those who came before them. Undamaged ships, with only a little space dust clinging to them to others covered in thick coats of space grime. Some of the hulking craft showed signs of a battle. Complete with scorch marks and hull breaches. Some were clearly of Alliance or other known civilization’s design, while most of the others were utterly alien.

“It’s a bloody ship graveyard,” Murdock said. “Scans show nothing living over yonder, ma’am. The oldest wrecks date back nearly a millennium. Six of the earliest are Alliance vessels.”

“And the newest?” Captain Boleyn’s eyes set on him with a stern glare.

Murdock swallowed.

“Some appear abandoned maybe six to eight months ago, Captain.”

A heavy silence fell over the bridge. The implications were clear. They weren’t the first to fall into the Strigoi’s trap. If they didn’t act fast, they wouldn’t be the last.

Elena stepped onto the bridge, her face etched with concern. Captain Boleyn turned, her piercing gaze locking onto the doctor.

“Report, Doctor Aodha.”

Elena took a breath, steadying herself. “Captain, we have a dire situation. The away team’s DNA has been… corrupted. It’s merged with Strigoi genetic material.”

“Explain.”

“Would that I could. In short, their unique genetic signatures are all but indistinguishable from the Strigoi population at large.” Aodha swiped to a new screen.

“On top of that, the actual Strigoi DNA is almost identical to our own. Like they originated on Earth.” She looked her Captain in the eye.

“Given the givens, we can’t locate them with our sensors or scanners. Their unique signatures, as they were, no longer exist. They’re polluted with something new.” Elena wavered slightly. “I’m declaring a medical emergency. We need to extract them immediately.”

Captain Boleyn felt an unease settle into her. The muscles shuddered beneath her taut skin. She wanted to reach out, touch Elena’s hand, and seek comfort in her lover’s presence. But not here, not now.

“Options, Doctor?”

Elena swiped across her datapad.

“I’ve initiated a planet-wide DNA scan. It’ll take about 15 minutes to complete. Perhaps I might find enough of what they were lingering inside them to lock on and beam them back.”

Genevieve nodded in a curt acknowledgment.

“Do it. In the meantime, I want all science and teleport techs and officers working on alternative methods of locating our people.”

As the bridge crew sprang into action, Genevieve’s mind raced. How had they fallen into this trap? She should have seen it coming. The guilt gnawed at her. It threatened to overwhelm her facade of control.

Fifteen agonizing minutes later, Elena cut through the tense silence.

“Scan complete, Captain. The results are… unsettling.”

Genevieve strengthened herself.

“Go on.”

“Seventy percent of the scanned population shows combined DNA signatures. We’re dealing with hybrids, Captain. And not just Strigoi-Human. There are traces of countless alien species.”

The doctor searched her mind for the best words to explain the unexplainable.

“Only the Strigoi have a pure DNA,” Elena said. “Which itself is a distorted version of our own. The other races’ attributes are mixed into transplanted Strigoi’s DNA inside them. Genetics mingled, incompatible, haphazard, combined into something not quite dead or altogether alive. Those they’ve assimilated have a hodgepodge of DNA, which shouldn’t be possible. I don’t even know how they’ve combined the genetics.”

The implications hit Genevieve as hard as a punch in the gut. How many civilizations had the Strigoi consumed? How many more might fall if they didn’t stop this?

“It gets worse,” Elena said, her expression a whispery warning. “There’s evidence of genetic manipulation at our people’s DNA and RNA levels. Whatever’s happening down there, it’s not just interbreeding. It’s a deliberate alteration on a cellular level.” Again, the doctor stopped and clarified her thoughts.

“Things that shouldn’t be able to mix, combine, and somehow survive. The other races it’s happened to, like the Strigoi, are neither alive nor dead. Are people will, in the end, be, for want of a better word, undead.”

“Recommendations, Doctor?” Genevieve’s mind reeled, but she remained steady.

Elena met her gaze, and the professional masks slipped for a moment. Genevieve saw the fear, the longing. The desperate need for reassurance in her lover’s eyes. She ached to provide it, but duty came first.

Always and forever, duty first.

“We need to get our people out. And we need to quarantine this entire system. Whatever’s happening here, we can’t risk it spreading.”

Genevieve nodded, her decision made.

“Agreed. Prepare a rescue operation. We’re getting our crew back. No matter the cost. Place a call to the Queen. Tell her I want to chat with her. I bet this one will get through.”

“Captain, I think I’ve found our crew-persons. This is an… orgy. The copulations of so many life signs… this must be some of our missing crew and Strigoians of various genetic origins. Ress said the changes happened when they rutted. This is directly below the throne room,” Elena said.

“Again, open a frequency to Queen Fatum for me. I’m going down there.”

“Captain, you can’t…”

“Silence, Mister Gordon. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m in command. And, my new friend, I can do anything I damn well please.”

“Captain,” Lieutenant Thompson said, “When you go down, I want you to wear a different tunic.”

“What?”

“I’ve been meaning to give it to you. It has a concealed weapons pouch. And that pouch is lined with a material that’ll shield it from most cursory scans.”

“Meet me in the teleport room, Lieutenant, right after I talk to this damned Queen of the Strigoi.”

****

When the stinging in her body and rumble in her ears ceased, Captain Boleyn opened her eyes.

The air in the throne room was thick with an otherworldly perfume. It was an appalling and sickish sweet scent of rot. The ever so faint redolence of death. Captain Genevieve Boleyn fought the notion to wrinkle her nose as she faced the imposing figure before her. Queen Fatum of Mort, ruler of the Strigoi, lounged on a seat. A throne, which seemed to be composed of living, writhing lifeforms.

But it might only have been changing shadows.

“Captain,” Fatum said, her words a silken caress that sent involuntary shivers down Boleyn’s spine. “How delightful of you to accept our invitation!”

Boleyn forced herself to speak.

“I’m here to discuss my crew’s return, your Majesty. Nothing more and nothing less.”

Fatum’s lips curved into a predatory smile.

“Oh, but there’s so much more we could discuss, isn’t there? The hunger that burns within you, the loneliness of command…”

“My personal life is not up for discussion.” Boleyn’s composure fell for a moment. She took a steadying breath, acutely aware of the other Strigoi guests watching her with hungry eyes.

“Where are my people?”

Fatum rose. Her form seemed to shimmer and shift as she moved.

“They’re quite safe, I assure you. In fact, they’re experiencing ecstasies far outside their experiences or wildest dreams.”

Boleyn’s hand moved towards her weapon out of pure instinct.

“If you’ve harmed them—”

“Harm?” Fatum laughed. The sound echoed in an odd manner. “Oh no, dear Captain. We’ve given them sensations and joys beyond your comprehension. The unbridled rapture you yourself desperately crave yourself.”

The words hit Boleyn like a physical blow. How could this alien queen know her secret trysts and hidden desires? She struggled to maintain her stern facade as she contemplated her fate.

“I want to see them. Now,” Boleyn said, low and dangerous.

Fatum glided closer, her presence overwhelming. “All in good time, Captain. First, let us discuss what you’re truly seeking. Power? Pleasure? Or perhaps… both?”

Boleyn longed to touch the comm on her wrist to order an emergency teleport-out. But she couldn’t abandon her crew. She had to play this game. No matter how treacherous it was.

Forever and always, duty to her crew came first.

“What… What I seek… is a peaceful resolution and the safe release of my people.”

Fatum’s eyes glittered with amusement.

“Oh, but we both know that’s not altogether true, don’t we? Mmm, sweetness, a rich, strong life-force, such a delicious flavor. Oh, and your needs, mmm. Yes, I can taste your libidinal yearnings, Genevieve. They’re exquisite.”

As the Strigoi Queen spoke, Boleyn felt a strange warmth spreading through her body. She fought against the sensations. Her mind screamed alarms even as a part of her longed to give in to the intoxicating sensations. Genevieve had to maintain control of herself until she found the crew. Had to shield her thoughts from them until she could act.

“Enough games.” Boleyn’s words were desperate despite her best efforts. “Show me my crew or this negotiation is over.”

Fatum’s smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed just a touch too sharp. “As you wish, Captain. But remember, once you’ve seen, there’s no going back. Are you prepared for that?”

“I’m prepared for anything.” Boleyn’s eyes met the Queen’s, steeling herself against whatever horrors or temptations awaited. But in her wildest dreams, she couldn’t grasp how far the creatures could delve into her mind. How many secrets they might lay bare.

As Fatum led her deeper into the alien stronghold. Boleyn couldn’t shake the feeling that she was walking into a trap from which there might be no escape. But for her crew and ship, she’d face whatever came. Even if it meant confronting the darkest parts of herself along the way.

A sense of dread invaded her with each step. If she believed in a god or gods, she’d pray to them. While she had no faith in a deity, she had it in herself. Captain Boleyn would be ready and strike when the time was right.

[MillieDynamite]

****
Elsewhere on the Surface

Two Strigoians lay next to their fallen prey. Blood oozed from both the Strigoians and the dead strange animals. A smoky haze covered the area, the remnant of the weapons fire that brought down beasts, both native animals and humanoids of the godforsaken planet.

The Strigoi who’d brought them on the hunt made a fatal mistake. They gave them their weapons to use on the prey. Somehow, she and David Russ had fought together and escaped. She and Russ turned on their masters and killed them. Snatching their communicators, they ran for their lives.

Off in the distance, entering the city, were two figures running from the ghastly sight.

Nancy Herlihy’s adrenaline rush threatened to overwhelm her. She crouched behind a twisted metal structure. Her uniform torn and stained, damaged from her quick escape, and marred with the mixed viscous discharges of dozens of alien beings. The unfamiliar city sprawled before her. A nightmarish landscape of organic architecture. Buildings which seemed to grow of their own accord from the ground.

Structures that seemed to pulse with a malevolent half-life, half-death. Like everything else in the haunted world. One structure looked like a cacoon or perhaps a giant spider’s lair. This was no place Nancy would enter willingly. None of these buildings were hospitable in appearance.

Everything on this ungodly orb was both alive and dead simultaneously. But their masters were just dead… dead. Or they believed it to be so. But how can you be sure when lifeforms are both living and dead at the same time?

Her master had fucked Nancy raw and filled her with his seed. But she and David had fought their way out of the place.

“David,” she said in a whisper to her recovered comm-unit, “where are you?”

Static crackled, but Spaceman Russ’s words came through, tense and breathless. “Northeast quadrant. Near what looks like a… temple? It looks like something from mythology. Roman or Greek from before modern history. Christ, Nancy, these things are everywhere.”

Nancy’s hand trembled as she wiped the sweat from her forehead.

“We need to regroup. Find the others.”

“Agreed. But how? Without our scanners, which are useless in this… whatever it is, this odd mist, just how do suggest it?”

Nancy shut her eyes, fighting back a wave of nausea. The air felt wrong, heavy with an alien musk that made her skin crawl. She took a moment to clear her mind, stealing herself.

“Move slow and careful. Use the shadows. And David?”

“Yeah?”

“If you see any of those… things… don’t engage. Run. That’s an order.”

A pause.

“You don’t outrank me. I outrank you. And we’re both just space-persons. So, keep your fucking orders to yourself. I hear them calling me. The fucking things are in my head, and I want to return.”

“Don’t you dare‽ That would amount to a living death. Do you understand me?”

“Then we need to contact the ship,” he said.

As Nancy prepared to move, a new sound reached her ears. A low, rhythmic chanting that seemed to vibrate through the very ground. She froze, her mind battling for control.

What have we stumbled into? she thought. A chill rushed through her. And how the hell are we going to get off this shithole planet? She’d try to call the Pioneer again. She ran to David and grabbed his shoulder.

She tapped her comm.

“Pioneer, are you there? Two to transmat.” They felt a tingling, and a hum filled their ears. They faded away in a shimmer of light.

****

The corridor opened into a vast chamber. Its walls pulsed with an eerie bioluminescence. At its center stood a figure attractive and revolting. Boleyn’s breath caught in her throat. Tall and lithe, with skin like month-old dead flesh and eyes that glowed past the pale haze that covered them with an inner fire.

The being, neither human, Strigoian, nor a mixture of the two, exuded a bizarre grace.

A dead angel fallen and risen, alive but not living, she thought.

“Captain Boleyn,” Fatum said, “may I present Letum, our leading diplomat.”

Letum inclined his head, a smirking smile, implying his superiority to Boleyn’s inadequacy.

“A pleasure, Captain. We’ve anticipated this… encounter with eagerness.”

“Where are my people?” she struggled against losing control. Boleyn’s skin prickled with unease.

“All in good time,” Letum said, a smooth caress. “First, there’s someone else you should meet.”

From the shadows emerged a younger female. The girl’s features a haunting blend of Fatum’s eerie beauty and something… wilder. Boleyn’s mind reeled as she recognized elements of her own race’s more living appearance in the girl’s body, flesh, and face.

“This is Mors. My daughter… and the future of my people.” Fatum’s pride was evident.

Boleyn’s stomach churned.

“What have you done?” she asked, horror and fascination warring inside her.

Mors stepped forward, her eyes locked on Boleyn’s.

“We’ve evolved, and soon, you will, too.” As she ran her fingers over Boleyn’s cheek, her face turned to an ashen image of a dead, rotting shell. Then it returned to as before.

“This bitch is randy. I smell her moisture, Mother. They have such lovely, sweet smells, don’t they? You’ll be so yummy, Captain. What life you have to give me.”

“My lovely Genevieve, my daughter Mors, fed on a wayward visitor from your world 20 years ago. His vessel malfunctioned, or the poor bastard entered the wrong coordinates. He followed our signal to ask for help.”

She paused and laughed.

“He was the first human we’d seen since we arrived here. Mors fucked him and consumed his life’s energy. You could say… my daughter fucked him to death. It’s quite a splendid way to go.”

“You’ve surmised by now, haven’t you… we are you,” Mors said.

As Boleyn stared at these impossible creatures, her thoughts raced. How could she save her crew? How could Genevieve resist the pull she felt towards these beings? And most terrifyingly, did she even want to?

“You have a choice, Captain,” Letum said, soft and low. “Join us willingly, or…”

Boleyn squared her shoulders, fighting against the conflicting desires within her.

“Or what?”

Fatum’s smile was greedy.

“Or we take what we want, anyway. The choice, my dear Genevieve, is yours. We require your blood, energy, lives, the very force of life inside you, and you and your crew’s DNA to grow beyond what we are.”

“De toute façon, la mort de l’Humanité,” Genevieve said.

The Queen chuckled.

“Oh, yes, either way, the Death of Humanity, how delicious you will be. It would’ve happened already, that is, if we hadn’t left Mars and Earth in 2861. Nex developed the first wormhole drive ever. I developed a vaccine to stop aging and allow us to live forever. Three ships outfitted with STL and wormhole drives escaped from the Sol system, opened a wormhole, and traveled here. Five other vessels followed us a month later.”

The queen gestured with her hand toward Boleyn.

“My vaccine didn’t quite work as expected. And this world has its own rules of life and death. Everything here is one constant state, living and dead bound together. We must consume energy from other life forms to stay… human-ish…”

The Queen walked up to Captain Boleyn and ran her dead fingers over the soft, living flesh of Genevieve’s face. Her hand, for a moment, turned a pinkish white and then reverted to ashen grey.

“But, I think… yes, really, I’m sure I perfected our being, our existence, with Mors, don’t you? When she’s aroused or hungry, death peeks out.”

“She looks like all of you, a fucking walking corpse,” Captain Genevieve Boleyn said.

“With a little taste from you, her skin will grow supple again. And from her, I will create a serum for all of us. That and consuming your essences, we’ll be so much better.”

Nex stepped forward, his imposing figure dwarfing even the statuesque Fatum. His eyes, dark and fathomless, locked onto Boleyn’s with an intensity that took her breath.

“My Queen, perhaps our guest would appreciate a… demonstration of our hospitality.”

Boleyn wanted to feel the weight of her handheld Phase-Plasma-Blaster. She kept her emotions in check, years of command lending her strength. She avoided touching the gun’s hiding place.

“What I’d appreciate is the hospitality of you people freeing my crewmembers.”

A melodious laugh swelled through the chamber. Letifer glided towards them, resplendent in diaphanous robes that left little to the imagination. Her movements were liquid grace, hypnotic in their fluidity. Sensuality oozed from her as she approached, and yet she appeared as cadaverous as the rest of them.

“Oh, Captain,” Letifer said, stopping mere inches from Boleyn. “Your crew is experiencing joys beyond anything they ever imagined. Why deny yourself the same depth of being?”

“Because I have an obligation to them and my ship.” Boleyn’s desires warred with her duty. She concentrated… fighting her conflicted desires.

Nex’s deep chuckle sent shivers into her soul.

“Admirable, misguided, but nonetheless quite admirable. We offer transcendence, Captain. Merging our flesh and spirit with your own will reshape your existence’s very fabric. If you willingly accept it, I promise we’ll be gentle.”

“And if I refuse?” Boleyn challenged, though her voice wavered.

Letifer stroked Boleyn’s cheek, so soft. His flesh twisted into a more grotesque image of death and untwisted to his previous, less hideous but deathly visage.

“Why would you want to? Let go, Genevieve. Embrace the elation that awaits you. We’ll feed on you and give you a new life. And charming tiny creature, you will become something beyond anything you desire. You will be Strigoi. You hunger for what we can give you, and we, well, more to the point, I yearn to feast on you.”

As Letifer’s touch sent waves of lustfulness cascading through her body, Boleyn’s resolve almost crumbled. She thought of her ship, duty, and secret lover… but it all seemed so distant now. So unimportant compared to the promises of bliss before her.

“I… I can’t…” Genevieve said, even as she reacted to Letifer’s caress.

“You will join us, Captain. Let us show you rapture beyond imagination. I’ll fill you, become you, and you will transform into something a little less than me.” Nex’s voice was a seductive rumble.

Boleyn’s hazy reverie was shattered by the abrupt entrance of two figures. The first, Todesfall, was a sight to behold. Neither male nor female, but a perfect fusion of both. Their iridescent, lifeless flesh shimmered with a strange glow. Drawing Boleyn’s gaze despite her efforts to resist.

“My Queen,” Todesfall said, their voice a melodious blend of bass and soprano. “We’ve brought the one you requested.”

Behind Todesfall stood Sterben, a lithe female with empty eyes that seemed to pierce through Boleyn’s soul. The captain felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to reach out and touch her pale, putrefying skin.

“Excellent,” Nex said, his attention shifting from Boleyn. “Sterben, my dear, approach.”

Boleyn’s thoughts jumbled inside her brain. This was her chance to regain control and fight the intoxicating influence of the Strigoi. But as Sterben glided forward, the captain found herself transfixed.

“What… what are you doing?” Boleyn said, her whisper close to a fearful desire.

Todesfall’s lips twisted into a knowing smile.

“We’re expanding your horizons, Captain. Surely a woman of your… appetites… can appreciate that?”

Boleyn’s cheeks flushed hot with shame and desire. How did they know about her secrets? Her private longings?

“I don’t…” she said, but the rest of the words died in her throat as Sterben’s icy touch ran down the bone of her jaw.

“Hush,” Sterben said. “Let go of your doubts. Let us give you rapacity beyond your wildest imagination.”

As four pairs of hands caressed her body, Boleyn’s last coherent thought was of her ship, her crew. But even that faded into blissful oblivion as the Strigoi’s seduction threatened to consume her.

The room’s atmosphere shifted as two new figures entered. Their presence commanded immediate attention. Shibō and behind her strode Shikyo, her bearing regal and composed.

“What is this?” she demanded, maintaining her authoritative tone despite the lingering effects of the Strigoi’s touch.

Shikyo’s lips curved into a voracious smile.

“Welcome, Captain, to the center of our pleasure district. I am the director here, and Shibō is one of our most… gifted consolers.”

“We’ve been so looking forward to meeting you, Captain. Your reputation precedes you.” Shibō swished her ass as she moved.

How much did they know? She fought her urges and desires.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’m here on official business, nothing else.”

“Oh, but you can spare a moment for… cultural exchange?” Shikyo’s voice dripped with suggestion. “After all, isn’t that what First Contact is about?”

The captain’s resolve wavered. God, she needed a culmination of her desires. It had been so long since… No, it hadn’t been long… earlier that day, I had my satisfaction. Focus.

“My crew. Where, in fucking hell, are they?”

Shibō sidled closer, her scent intoxicating.

“Safe, I assure you. Why not relax? Let us lead you to our world’s most sensual and delightful pleasures? Look, there are your crew.”

Shibō pointed, and the space in front of them lit up.

Before her, most of the landing group. Boleyn’s people writhed in a mass of tangled limbs and pasty, ashen flesh. Strigoi and hybrid’s bodies intertwined with human forms, movements frenzied and desperate. With each passing moment, her crew members’ vitality drained. Their skin took on the sickening hue of their captors.

“Now, shall we join them?”

“I won’t be manipulated,” she said in an enraged growl, even as her body betrayed her with a shiver of desire. Boleyn’s fists clenched at her sides.

Shiko’s laugh was like silk.

“My dear Captain, who’s manipulating? We’re simply offering what you crave. What harm is there in indulging just this once?”

The room seemed to spin. Boleyn’s eyes rolled up as she fought for control. Shibō was mere inches away when she opened them. Those lifeless, glazed eyes bored into her soul.

“Let go. Let us take care of everything,” Shibō said in a soft, seductive murmur.

Boleyn pulled her weapon from its hiding place. Pushing her blaster into the belly of the creature, Genevieve squeezed the trigger. Shibo’s eyes widened, and she crumpled to the floor.

Shikyo jumped to run away, but Boleyn took aim and fired. Shikyo fell to the ground, smoke wafting from the hole that gaped in her back. Her fingers and legs twitched and trembled and then stilled.

The Queen and her entourage fled the room.

“Fucking parasites.” Genevieve Boleyn fired at them. However, the blast hit the closing door, blistering the surface.

Restraint slipped away, and she killed the creatures, one at a time, who were feeding on her team. In less than a minute, she reduced the half-dead beings to a dead mass of lifeless organisms.

“Boleyn, to teleport room four, lock on to all life forms in immediate proximity to me and teleport now. Keep sharp if any of the others come with us.”

Everything alive in the room shimmered and faded from the room. Leaving the seemingly dead Strogrians alone in the room.

****

The bridge doors slid open, and Boleyn moved to her chair.

“Ready or not, we’re getting the hell out of here in thirty seconds.”

“We’re being held,” Susanna Mann said. The viewscreen shifted to life.

“Captain, I must insist you teleport to my throne room immediately,” Fatum said. “We have unfinished business.”

Genevieve met the Queen’s stern glower, her own scowl, eyes cold as steel. Without a word, Captain Boleyn turned her head and nodded. The bridge erupted into a flurry of activity.

“The fucking hell I will. Red alert! Activate all shields. Charge all weapons! Blast that damned friendship satellite into a million pieces. That’s my first answer. The next is for you. We’re leaving.”

A brilliant flash illuminated the screens around the bridge as the satellite used to lure the unsuspecting to them exploded into a cloud of debris. Genevieve let a grim smile form before addressing the stunned queen.

“Bye-bye, you fucking… undead… Queen.”

Inwardly, Genevieve’s heart raced. She’d just committed an act of war against a powerful, unknown enemy. But as she pictured her crew—pictured Elena—in the clutches of these monsters, she knew she’d make the same choice the next time a race threatened her ship and crew. She took one more punch at Queen Fatima.

“Your move, bitch,” Genevieve said, steeling herself for whatever came next.

The Queen’s face contorted with rage, her deceptively beautiful features twisting into something inhuman.

“No, that isn’t happening. We’ll launch our ships and do what we’ve done for nearly a millennium. Conquer you… enslave you… and feed on you…”

Genevieve’s stomach churned, but she kept her expression impassive. She’d be damned if she’d show weakness to this creature.

The Queen’s appearance returned to a calm composure.

“To avoid a needless loss of lives, teleport your crew down to these coordinates, and I’ll come up and make peace with you. You have five minutes to comply,” Fatum said, her words dripping with false concern.

“Miss Mann, end transmission,” Genevieve said, pounding a fist into an open hand. The viewscreen went dark, leaving her staring at her own reflection. She looked haggard, the worry carved in every line of her face. The viewer showed Mort again.

“Captain?” Mann said. “What are your orders?”

Before Genevieve could respond, the bridge doors hissed open. Elena strode in, her red hair ruffled and her eyes wild with urgency.

“Genevieve,” she said, forgoing formality. “I’ve found the rest of our crew.”

“Where?” asked as new hope took hold.

“Still on the planet, but… Even though their biosignatures are… altered… there’s enough of their uniqueness left. I can teleport them directly to cryo-units in sick bay. It’s our best chance to stabilize them until I find a cure.”

Genevieve nodded, her mind already plotting the next moves.

“Do it.” Genevieve pushed her comm button on the seat. “Teleport room four, execute Doctor Aodha’s orders immediately.”

As Elena hurried out, Genevieve treated herself to a moment of vulnerability, watching her lover’s retreating form. Then she squared her shoulders, once again the indomitable Captain Boleyn.

“Helm, prepare for a speedy departure. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

Captain Genevieve Boleyn’s hands clutched the arms of her command chair as she surveyed the bridge. The tension was unmistakable. Each crew member’s face was a mask of scarcely contained fear and determination.

“Ensign Mann return to helm. Navigation plot a course out of this system. Forgo STL as soon as possible and go to maximum hyper-speed immediately. Execute as soon as we clear the outer planets.”

“Aye, Captain,” Susanna responded, her hands hung over the helm controls, waiting.

Genevieve’s eyes narrowed as she turned to the engineering station. “Klause!”

The young Assistant Engineer flinched.

“I want the damned wormhole drive operational. Now. And get the wormhole comm fixed while you’re at it.”

Felicity nodded nervously.

“Y-yes, Ma’am. I’ll do my best, but the systems are—”

“I don’t want excuses, Ensign. I want results. Get it done.”

As Felicity scrambled to comply, Genevieve plotted for the best strategy.

We must put as much distance between us and those… things… as possible. But without the wormhole mechanism… Boleyn’s thoughts were interrupted by Mann’s urgent voice.

“Captain! Multiple ships launched from Mort’s surface. The vessels appear to be battle cruisers. They’re in pursuit!”

“Captain, Klause here. Ma’am, as soon as we’re twenty million kilometers from the system’s edge, all our ship’s systems will be out of range of the planet’s disruptive influence.”

Genevieve’s jaw clenched.

“Thank you, Miss Klause. Spin both FTL and Wormhole Engines now. Tactical, arm all weapons. Helm evasive maneuvers. Let’s see if we can outrun these bastards.”

The Pioneer surged forward, and the stars on the viewscreen elongated as they approached the system’s edge, and the STL kicked in. Genevieve felt a primal thrill through her veins. The epinephrine surge of battle awakened something profound and hungry. Something more potent than the wanton sensuality their enemy preyed on.

We’re not your prey, you undead fucks, she thought fiercely. We’re the predators now.

“Romanian,” Klause said. She gazed at a message displayed at the comm station.

“What the hell is Romanian? Never heard of it. You mean Rome?” First Officer Gordon asked.

“No, there was an ancient country called Romania,” Felicity said as she returned to her station. “The communications computer has identified the Strigoian Language. It’s Romanian. But Captain, the language disappeared a thousand or so years ago. Strigoi is Romanian for undead. They’re not alive, and they’re not dead. They are undead, Strigoi.”

“Miss Klause… please, shut the fuck up for now. Weapons officer target their propulsion and weapons systems. Oh, fucking hell, target them at their weakest points, too,” she ordered, her voice cold and precise. “I want those abominations reduced to atoms.”

“Aye, Captain,” the tactical officer said. “Torpedoes armed and locked, guided missiles armed and locked.”

“Here’s a little present for you, Strigoi… Fire.” Genevieve’s gaze locked on the viewer.

The Pioneer shuddered as it unleashed its payload. Missels and torpedoes rushed ahead, turned back, and rushed past the vessel toward their targets. On the display, the Strigoi vessels erupted in a series of brilliant explosions. Genevieve watched dispassionately, a tiny part of her relishing the destruction.

The fight had lasted twenty-seven seconds.

“Confirm no life signs,” she said.

“Scanning… none detected, Captain. But there is another ship coming.”

“Captain, we have Wormhole Drive active and available.”

Genevieve nodded.

“Set course for Earth. I want us out of this place. Just like we were never here.”

As the ship moved into the rupture, Genevieve mused about the situation. How many of my crew are compromised? Can they be saved? The thought of losing people threatened to bury her. But true to form, she maintained composure. She took care to show no hint of weakness.

The Storgi craft sped up and rushed into the tear in space as it collapsed on itself.

The bisected Strigoi ship hung in the void, grotesque proof of the hazards of wormhole travel. Captain Genevieve Boleyn stood rigid on the bridge, Gene’s petite body vibrating with tension.

“Blast the motherfucking horror out of existence,” Genevieve Boleyn said.

Weapons locked on and fired, and the partial ship exploded into millions of fragmented pieces of flotsam and jetsam.

Inside the debris field were chunks of body parts and one intact Strigoi. It was neither alive nor entirely dead but in some state of hibernation. Also, the being wasn’t picked up by any sensors or scanners. It might float there a thousand years, a million perhaps, or never be found. But being whole, while damaged and frozen, it might return to its comingled state at some point in the future.

Hours later, as they approached Earth’s orbit, Genevieve reported to Allied Fleet Command. Her voice remained steady as she detailed the horrors they’d encountered. But her hands trembled imperceptibly.

Admiral Quin caught the tremble but held his tongue.

“We’re teleporting the wounded and those in cryo-stasis to medical facilities Earth-side,” Captain Genevieve Boleyn said. “Request immediate replacements for lost crew. Crewmembers Ress Thorne, Nancy Herlihy, Piper Vanderhoff, and David Russ have rejected the foreign DNA and are returning to normal. We’ll keep them on board under observation until Doctor Aodha can confirm they have fully recovered. Then reinstate them to duty.”

Collecting his thoughts for a moment, Leaf Ericson Quin pondered, giving them a leave. He knew Boleyn wouldn’t want a rest. She’d want to get back to the fight. But they needed help in the fight.

Clearing his throat, Admiral Quin responded.

“Understood, Captain. Replacements are prepared for transmat, including your new Science Officer. Your new orders are to continue your mission of first contact along a different vector. However, considering the gravity of the enemy you encountered, travel near enough to that world to find those willing to be allied with us against them.”

“Acknowledged,” Genevieve responded, ending the transmission.

As the replacements materialized and the Pioneer prepared to depart, Genevieve retreated to her quarters. The inevitable crash after the fight-and-flight left her hollow, desperate for connection.

At precisely midnight, Genevieve Boleyn reached for her unofficial comm unit. Her fingers hovered over the keys. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled. For a moment, she hesitated, then typed:

“Doctor, I need some TLC.”

Minutes later, her door chimed.

“Enter,” Genevieve said, anticipation racking her emotions. Dr. Elena Aodha stepped inside, and her eyes showed concern and desire.

“Genevieve.”

Without a word, Genevieve pulled Elena to her, their lips crashing together in a desperate, hungry kiss. They stumbled to the floor, hands roaming, clothes being hastily discarded. Giving into their passion, their love, they moved toward oneness.

“Fuck,” Genevieve gasped as Elena’s fingers found her most sensitive spots. “I need you. I need this.”

Elena’s tongue traced along the thin line of sweat that had formed on Genevieve’s neck. Her hot breath against her skin sent shivers down to her core. The little blonde moaned softly, arching into the taller woman’s touch. She inched closer, nuzzling her nose against Elena’s red hair before kissing her lips passionately.

Their tongues twirled together. They explored each other’s mouths. Tasting the desires filling their senses. Genevieve felt the heat between them intensify as she ran her hands up and down Elena’s thighs. Feeling Elena’s smooth skin beneath her fingertips sent jolts between them.

Breaking the kiss, she gasped for air and peeked through her eyelashes at Elena with lust and adoration in her.

“You make me so fucking wet, bitch.” Genevieve said hoarsely, tracing a finger along the seam of moisture on Elena’s panties. “I can’t wait to feel your tongue inside me.”

With a smirk, Elena reached down and kissed her and pulled Genevieve’s bottom lip into her mouth, sucking gently.

“You better hold that thought,” Elena said.

Elena kneeled in front of her shorter lover, slowly sliding between her legs. Giving Genevieve a sultry gaze that promised all kinds of wantonness ahead. She lapped at her lips.

With one last glance into those green eyes that promised unbridled sensual exploration, Genevieve spread herself open for her lover.

Their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm. Filled with fury and animalistic desires. Genevieve felt herself pulled deeper into the sensation as Elena caressed her body. She gasped when Elena’s tongue circled her clit. Elena took it into her mouth, sucked hard. The sensation sent shivers down Genevieve’s spine.

She moaned and groaned.

As they moved together, they lost track of time. It was almost as if they were the only two people in the universe. At that moment, to them, they were. Each lover caught up in a whirlwind of desire and lust.

Suddenly, Elena pulled back from Genevieve and looked deeply into her eyes.

“I love you,” Elena said softly, breathing the words on Genevieve’s lips. They kissed gently once more. Those three words sent a wave of emotion crashing over Genevieve. She responded. Wrapping her legs around Elena’s waist, Gene pulled her closer.

Clutching one another, tight, possessive, greedy for contact with one another.

They moved together for hours. Finally, the two collapsed on the bed. Exhausted. Fulfilled. They lay there, catching their breaths. Genevieve marveled at how lucky she was to have found someone who made her feel this way. It was beautiful. The being wanted and cherished. They were almost one person, not two. She brushed a stray lock of hair from Elena’s forehead.

The lovers’ hearts beat in unison once more.

“I love you too,” she said softly. “Where does the name Aodha come from?”

“It’s Gaelic, I’m Irish. Well, as much as anyone is any one thing anymore.”

The lovers nestled together and drifted off into a contented sleep wrapped around each other. Two souls who were finally at peace in one another’s arms. For a few moments, the worries of command, the stress of the health and well-being of the crew, gone. Rest blessed rest with the one they loved.

****

Near the Outer Rim of the Galaxy

“How many do you want?”

“One hundred thousand slaves to use as worriers.”

“Won’t it take you some time to… change… that many?”

“That isn’t your concern.”

“All one race?”

“I don’t care about their race. I need them… I need all of them…” Queen Fatum glared at the piggish creature. “And I need ships to carry those and more.”

“Who are you going to fight?” The king asked.

“The Allied Worlds of the Orion Spur. They’re coming for us… we didn’t start this war…”

“I don’t care who started it. I’ll supply you. For a price. But we’ll not meet face to face.”

“Why, Homer, King of the Scrofa, don’t you trust me?” Fatum asked.

King Homer didn’t respond.

“Who’s the lovely piglet behind you, Homer?”

“My daughter, Princess Sue, she’s only 18,” he said.

“Have her shuttled up to me.”

“My daughter?” How dare this unholy — thing demand his daughter? The amount of payment lit up on his handheld. “Sue, darling, go to the royal yacht.” And the piglet’s fate was sealed.

“Yes, Father,” Sue said and rushed from the room.

Fatum’s mouth twisted into a satisfied smirk.

“Such an obedient little gilt. And I must say the Princess looks delicious. Do you want her returned after I’ve… changed her? I can do it in a matter of hours.”

“No,” he said. “You keep her, use her in your army or whatever. I have everything I want from you.” He waved the handheld at the screen. A sinking in his gut warned him he might’ve sold his soul. “But you remember our bargain. You don’t invade my world.”

“Of course,” she said. Until I do, she thought, and then, there’ll be nothing you can do about it. The way of Strigoi was always to make promises and deals, break their word, and destroy their allies. Every living creature, not Strigoi, was the food of gods.

For the Queen and her kith and kin believed themselves gods.