Captain Gareth's Mates (4 page)

Gareth laughed. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but I’d say my balls are as blue as your skin by now. But never mind. I can wait until we get back to the ship. Waiting a bit longer will only make me want you more.”

Their lips met again, and Gareth moaned as Brennar’s fingers grew insistent against his fly. Soon they had wrenched open the buttons and were peeling back the fabric. Gareth’s cock, stiff and throbbing, jabbed the balmy air between them. Its swollen tip wept for Brennar.

Brennar knelt and slid his tongue under Gareth’s distended organ, coaxing it all the way into his mouth. Before long, Gareth was amazed to experience another feature of Shiban physiology as he found himself lodged deep in the back of Brennar’s throat. The tiny muscles there rippled, tightened, and squeezed, as dexterous as an expert masseuse’s fingers. In no time at all, a beam of lust shot from the tip of his cock to the center of his balls with laser-like precision. Grabbing Brennar’s shoulders and bucking his hips, he unloaded a furious volley into the velvety receptacle.

Exhausted, he sagged against the tree and fought to recover his composure. His mind spun and his senses reeled as if he had blacked out for a moment. The orgasm had been that intense.

The eerie squawk of some alien bird jarred him out of his reverie. He looked down to find Brennar refastening the front of his trousers.

“We should go back,” Gareth panted, shifting his hips in discomfort once the buttons of his fly were closed again. “Someone could come wandering over at any moment.”

“True enough,” Brennar agreed with a sigh. He stood.

“I’ll pay you back when we return to the ship, which should be pretty soon. We can’t be expected to hang around down here much longer, can we?”

“I am afraid we are invited to dine with the grand potentate in his private hall,” Brennar informed him sadly. “A messenger approached me while you were entertaining Lady Izbal. I expect he will also insist we take rooms here for the night. To refuse would seem discourteous in the extreme.”

Gareth raked a hand through his hair. “I suppose you’re right. Well, we’ll think of something, I’m sure. Just don’t forget I owe you one. A big one.”

“I assure you I will not.”

They headed back and lost themselves among the revelers until the sun was about to set. At that point, they were escorted to the grand potentate’s private dining room, where an impressive feast had been set up on two parallel tables. Zimeon himself was in his finest robes again, strolling around with the same entourage of women and advisers behind him. Gareth spotted Izbal among them. She flashed him a discreet smile as she took her place, not at the long table laden with food but against the wall behind her father’s chair. Ten women of various ages stood with her, no doubt her sisters and other relatives.

Once the grand potentate had been seated, Gareth and Brennar took places in the center of a second table that sat opposite his. To Gareth’s surprise, Izbal herself came forward to pour his wine.

“My father wishes to show you every honor,” she explained. “He has decided that no ordinary serving girl will wait on you this evening, but a princess. Don’t worry. I am happy to do it. Choosing me shows his respect.”

“You seem capable of more important duties,” Gareth said as she began to cut his food for him—real meat, he noticed with dismay, not the synthetic kind they served on the ship. Fortunately, there were plenty of fresh vegetables as well, so Brennar wouldn’t go hungry. “What is your role in the community on regular days?”

“As the grand potentate’s eldest daughter, I take a somewhat maternal stance toward my father’s subjects. I lead them in rituals, I tend to the sick, and sometimes I assist in the birthing of a baby.”

“And your husband?”

“I have no husband, my lo—Captain Gareth. Though I am more than old enough to wed, the grand potentate has so far identified no man on this world worthy of me. Though I cannot agree with him, I confess that no one in the village has snared my affection.”

“I can envision you far away from here,” Gareth whispered with thinly disguised indignation at the menial function she had been forced to perform. “You have a sharp mind. I can see that in your eyes, hear it in your voice. Have you never wished to leave Anubis?”

“No.” Her face pinched with sudden distress. “I have my place in life, just as you have yours. We couldn’t very well swap, could we?”

“I suppose not. Still, there is always the possibility for change.”

Izbal’s words, like her expression, grew heavy. “Not on this world, I fear.”

She retreated hastily, and the dinner continued. As Gareth had expected, he found the taste of real meat jarring after years of eating nothing but synthetics. Brennar, luckily, had been spared any awkwardness by requesting and receiving a plate heaped with garden produce. Izbal returned three times to freshen their wine and ask if they required additional foodstuffs but engaged in no further conversation. Once or twice, Gareth spotted her father watching them from across the room. On one occasion the grand potentate leaned over to whisper something to the older woman, presumably his wife, seated beside him.

Gareth wondered if he and Brennar would ever find their way out of this interminable evening. After all, his stomach was full, and his eyelids were heavy from the wine. His sac was full, too, and his cock restless. He couldn’t wait to get back to the ship and bury it inside Brennar’s willing body.

Finally, to his relief, Izbal returned with a bowl of sweet pudding for him, presumably the dessert. When Zimeon rose to speak to everyone assembled, he saw a much welcomed end in sight.

“We have come together this evening to celebrate a brave and honorable man,” Zimeon began, lifting his glass toward Gareth. “Unlike many in his position, he uses his power and technology for good. He uses his considerable intellect to outwit evil. Most importantly, he has shown respect and caring for our world, even if our ways seem strange to him.”

He paused for the others in the room to applaud and salute Gareth, which they did with enthusiasm. Gareth felt himself blush. He only hoped he wouldn’t have to stand and make a speech of his own.

“We can never repay him for his brave gallantry,” Zimeon continued, “but we will reward him with our most cherished possession.” With a sinking feeling, Gareth saw him turn to Izbal. Mortified, he heard the dreaded words in his head a moment before Zimeon spoke them aloud.

“I hereby grant him my oldest daughter in marriage. May they be happy and fertile together.”

The applause this time rang even louder. Everyone turned to Gareth again, obviously expecting him to make some appropriate response. Even if he could have found the right words, he could never have spoken them.

His mouth was hanging too far open.

Chapter 4

Gareth sat in shocked silence until the cheers quieted and the guests at last began to file from the room.

“He can’t be serious,” he managed to whisper to Brennar.

“I assure you he is,” Brennar answered, leaning over so they wouldn’t be overheard. “In feudal societies, the giving of one’s eldest daughter, along with an appropriate dowry, is a recognized way of paying tribute and securing an ally. In Zimeon’s view, you saved his colony and his world. He wishes to honor you in the best way he understands.”

“An extra dessert would have sufficed. Guess I’d better go up and talk to him.”

“Agreed. Under no circumstances should you refuse him outright, however. After such an insult, his good will toward the Terran Council could evaporate in an instant.”

“And there goes a lifetime supply of phytronium.” Gareth nodded. “Understood.”

His legs felt numb as he approached the grand potentate, who stood beside his chair receiving well-wishers. His daughter waited beside him. Her neutral expression turned apologetic when Gareth approached.

“Sir, I think we should speak in private,” Gareth said.

“Agreed,” Zimeon boomed. “You may attend also, Izbal, since this matter concerns you. Captain, please bring your friend. Witnesses should be present for our negotiations.”

He motioned for Gareth and one of his councilors to follow him, and the five of them passed into a lavish receiving room hung with tapestries and dominated by an enormous hand-carved chair. Zimeon settled into it and held out his hand for Izbal to take. She did so, dropping a quick curtsey to her father as a dark blush spread over her cheeks and forehead. The councilor stood off to one side, hands clasped behind his back.

After exchanging an anxious look with Brennar, Gareth approached the chair.

“I thank you for the generous offer to become part of your family,” he began. “I can hardly find words to respond.”

“A response is unnecessary. You will do me great credit as a son-in-law, and Izbal is well past the age when she should be continuing my royal line. I have indulged her thus far because, as my oldest, she is dear to me and makes herself useful in the community. Once she is married, she must retire from public view and take a more domestic role. However, I am prepared to endure the loss for so noble a cause.”

“But with all due respect, Grand Potentate, how do you know I don’t already have a mate?”

“What of it? I myself have seven wives. My life is all the richer. Yours will be, too. You may trust my advanced years and my wisdom on this matter.”

“I...I do, sir,” Gareth said with a backward glance at Brennar. “But that isn’t generally the custom among my people.”

“On my world, you may live according to my laws. When you are away, you may do as you please. Who will know any different?” Laughing, the old man dropped Izbal’s hand and heaved himself to his feet. “I will leave the two of you to make your own arrangements while I instruct my ministers to begin preparations. Your ceremony will be the concluding event of the festival already in progress.”

“Did he just say I have a wedding scheduled for tomorrow?” Gareth asked in astonishment after the grand potentate had sailed from the room with the councilor in his wake.

“It would appear so,” Brennar replied.

Izbal stood beside her father’s empty chair, her hands clasped together in distress. The three stared at each other for a long, uncomfortable moment.

“Well?” Izbal finally asked. “Is it true? Do you already have a wife?”

Gareth couldn’t bring himself to lie. “No,” he admitted. “I have no wife.”

Izbal sighed in relief. “I apologize for my father’s behavior. Please believe me when I say this was his idea and not my own. Apparently one of his ministers saw us dancing on the common this afternoon, and he seized upon this strange notion that you should become my husband.”

“I don’t blame you.” Gareth shook his head. “Surely you don’t want to marry me. You know nothing about me. You certainly don’t love me.”

“True. We don’t know each other well enough yet. However, a woman in my position doesn’t marry for love. Her father would always choose her mate...my mate. And I must confess, you are the only man I have ever truly admired.”

“Thank you. I’m flattered, really, but surely you can see that it’s impossible.”

“For us to be together? Perhaps. But as far as fulfilling my father’s orders? I believe we can. And what he has proposed is, in fact, an order. Make no mistake. He spoke to you as he did because you are men, and you are his guests. With me, earlier, his words were somewhat different.”

Brennar spoke up. “What would happen if the captain refused?”

“My father would be most displeased. He would blame me.” She lowered her eyes, her blush returning. “Captain, I am well aware that your real life lies elsewhere. I have no wish to intrude, but I am accustomed to doing what I must for the good of my people. This may be the most important task I will ever undertake. I only ask you to consider my position before you refuse to do what my father has asked...or rather commanded.”

“Well, I suppose I have little choice. I just think...” Red-faced, he floundered for words. Should he confess to her that he had no wife, but he did have a male lover, who was in the room with them? Would the truth matter?

Once again, Brennar came to Gareth’s rescue. “May I consult with the captain privately for a moment?”

“Of course. I must retire for the evening in any case. We can continue discussing this matter tomorrow morning.”

When they were alone again, Gareth paced the room. “They’re pretty serious about this marriage stuff.”

Brennar folded his arms and pretended to examine the chair. “Indeed, and you should know that rejecting Zimeon’s offer will bring terrible shame to Izbal. She might even be deemed unmarriageable or handed off to some acquaintance of her father whom she, and probably we, would find unsuitable.”

“Of course I don’t want that to happen. You know how I feel about such barbarism. Any woman deserves better. Especially Izbal.”

“Then I might also point out that marriage to you would considerably enhance her position in her father’s household. Clearly your status here is of an elevated nature—for the moment. As your wife, Izbal would share your celebrity and your prominence.”

“Well, what about the Terran Council? Don’t you think we should run this by them? I mean, if they refuse to go along, no one could blame Izbal.”

Brennar sighed. “If I had to predict their reaction, I would expect it to be positive or even celebratory. Let us not forget what brought us here in the first place—the promise of a continued energy supply. I daresay you would almost be performing a diplomatic function on their behalf.”