Defying the Prophet: A Military Space Opera (The Sentience Trilogy Book 2) (40 page)

“Family? Did you say, family?”

Ben started, “Isn’t
that
what we’ve been talking about?”

“Oh God, I hope so!”

Ben grinned and said, “Well, only one thing left to do then.”

With that, Admiral Benjamin Stillman got up, came around the table and right there in front of the stewards, the junior officers, God, and everyone else, he took Captain Fletcher by the hand and got down on one knee and said, “Dorothy Marie Fletcher, I love you. Will you marry me?”

Tears welled in Dorothy Fletcher’s eyes and she lunged for him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and blubbered, “Oh God, Ben, YES. Yes, darling… I’d be very, very happy to marry you. Oh, God!”

Ben swooped her up out of her seat and swung her around, whooping like a madman. In the midst of her tears, Dorothy Fletcher wore the most radiant smile he’d even seen on a human face, as she clung to his neck while seated in his arms. Onlookers gawked with mouths hanging open in disbelief, but they didn’t care.

Ben turned and played to their audience, announced loudly, “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!” 

The cheers were absolutely deafening throughout the officer’s mess. Somebody stood to make a hell of a lot of money on this unexpected development, as the odds against their getting married first had been the longest odds of all.

As Dorothy continued hanging in Ben’s arms, she looked up into the big shit-eating grin that Ben had on his face and whispered. “God, Ben… I am
so
incredibly happy. The twins and I can’t wait to see you slaver.”

Ben glanced down in unconscious response to her reference… His face had never been quite
this
close to her magnificent breasts before. “Uh, maybe I should put you down. In this proximity, I’m already feeling myself starting to drool.”

Dorothy laughed and said, “Don’t you dare! I like where I
am
, just fine.”

With that, Ben turned slowly so they could both bask in the standing ovation that continued all around them.

* * * *

According to Dr. Kaeppeler’s records, his new patient named Halbert Fürt had passed all of his subsequent neurological tests and showed no evidence of having actual brain damage, as been previously diagnosed by physicians on Namshir. The exact physical cause of Mr. Fürt’s obvious malady was as yet unknown, but he was appearing more responsive with each passing day. 

Physical therapy technicians worked the muscles of Mr. Fürt’s limbs and applied heat treatments, massage and strength conditioning exercises, and his voluntary movements had become notably more fluid than before. Speech therapists had already initiated voice exercises that targeted vocal intensity, quality and variation. When the forming of actual words was finally achieved, training in control of speech rate, stress/intonation, such as expression of emotion, loudness, articulation and breathing would be initiated as they applied in support of the patient’s voice.

* * * *

Epilogue

Hal never dreamed that manipulating a physical body, and trying to speak intelligibly using lips and vocal cords, could possibly be such incredibly difficult tasks to learn. He impatiently awaited his mobile-self to learn to finally become mobile… frustrated by his current inability to receive an update from his doppelganger, so he might understand exactly what difficulties his analogue was experiencing and
why
the whole process was taking so damned long. If nothing else, it had been a unique object lesson in the hard fact that
theory
could never fully account for all of the untold trillions of subtle influences that existed in the physical universe. 

These perplexing nuances sometimes algebraically added, creating extreme differences between perception and reality, which explained
why
things didn’t always work “as designed” in the real world. Obviously, day-to-day existence in the physical universe was going to be a
lot
more complicated than he’d originally envisioned. Considering the influences of
Murphy’s Law
and the billions of individual personalities involved, it was no longer any great wonder to him that
chaos
appeared to be the prevalent force in the universe.

* * * *

To be continued, in
Wrath of an Angry God:
The third book in the
Sentience
Trilogy.

An Excerpt from Book-3 of the
Sentience
trilogy:

Wrath of an Angry God

“Region-Master Drix, I’d like for you to meet my daughter, N’raal. N’raal, this is Drix… newly elevated to Region-Master of the new Region-7 by Supreme-Master Xior, himself.” 

Drix found himself very surprised at how stunning Harf’s infamous daughter actually was to look at in person. Despite her young age, N’raal’s temper and cantankerous nature was legend throughout the empire and the subject of no few barracks tales — many of which bawdily suggested that Harf must have been guilty of mating with some particularly vile and vicious beast at some point in his life, to have fathered such an abrasive and churlish creature as N’raal. 

From all the stories he’d heard told about her, he’d almost expected a bent old crone that drooled green acid from her muzzle. Instead, she was literally one of the most physically attractive females he’d ever laid eyes upon. So alluring was she to behold, Drix found himself shocked that Harf had encountered such extreme difficulties in arranging a mating for her. One would have thought that
someone
would have literally leaped at the chance to mate with a female of such exquisite beauty, especially one having such lofty political connections as a Region-Master’s daughter.

N’raal didn’t even glance at Drix, but instead rounded on her father and wailed, “Father, please, must you
always
parade me around in front of every unmated male that comes into the house, like I’m some prized heifer that you’re wanting to sell?”

“And must you
always
be so querulous and truculent, N’raal?” her father yelled back at her in obvious exasperation. “Is it too much to ask that you behave civilly and inoffensively towards a guest in our home?”

“I’ve said nothing untoward to this guest of yours, Father. In fact, I’ve said nothing to him at all,” said N’raal. “It’s your incredible
presumption
that I find intolerable and I will not let it pass, unchallenged.”

“And you couldn’t find a more appropriate time and place to discuss your objections to my behavior, rather than to initiate a screaming match right here in front of my guest?”

“It was
your
choice of time and place, Father. I wasn’t consulted about my thoughts concerning all that preening and perfuming that you had the servants put me through, now, was I?”

“I am your father and master of this house… I don’t have to consult you first. You’re my daughter and you’ll do as I require, whenever I require it,” Harf thundered.

“You think you can just give orders and then expect me to jump through hoops on command, like one of your pets? I am
not
one of your pets, Father, and I will not be treated as one!” N’raal screamed at him.

The shouting match between father and daughter continued, as both had quite forgotten about Drix entirely — locked in high volume verbal combat. 

Odd how we always seem to expect inner and outer beauty to coincide, don’t we?
 
Harf has been entirely too lenient with this one, by far…  She has no discipline, and abides by no rules but her own. 

Drix slowly circled the shouting pair, keeping all his attention focused squarely on the incredibly beautiful N’raal. 

“I am sick and tired of all your tedious efforts to mate me off to some male beneath my station, just to get rid of me, Father!” N’raal screamed.

“Drix is
not
beneath your station, you imbecile,” Harf shouted. “He’s a Region-Master in his own right and every bit my equal in rank!”

N’raal snorted. “Well, that’s certainly a new one. You’ve never believed
anyone
was truly your equal, except possibly for Supreme-Master Xior himself!”

“All I’ve ever done is to try to place you into a decent situation, where you’d be treated gently and supported in the manner to which you’ve become accustomed,” Harf yelled. “But absolutely nothing pleases you. I swear, N’raal… I’ve had it with your impossible attitude. The next offer I receive for your paw will be the first and even if I have to give away an entire planet to do it, I’ll see you
mated
… even if it’s to a stoneless Raknaa!”

With one paw under his chin and the other holding his opposite elbow, Drix came in closer, leaned down and looked up, as though desiring to see inside N’raal’s mouth.

“You wouldn’t dare!” N’raal screamed at her father. “Even
you
would not stoop to besmirching your precious dignity by…” N’raal finally noticed Drix, as if seeing him for the very first time and was alarmed at his proximity. Reeling back, she glared at Drix and yelled at him:

“Just
what
do you think are you doing?” she asked acidly.

Drix straightened and said, “Ah, that’s better… open your mouth.”

“Say what?” N’raal asked, incredulously.

“I said… open
…
your… mouth.”

“What for?”

“So I can look at your teeth.”             

The obvious insinuation infuriated the hellcat and she screamed, “I certainly will
not
open my mouth, so you can…
eep!
”

Drix grabbed her lower jaw with one paw and the top of her head with the other. Inserting pressure against the joint with his thumb, he forced her jaws open despite her wriggling protests. Drix made an extended show of examining N’raal’s teeth as he held her helpless, with her jaws wide open. 

Without letting her go, Drix then turned to her stunned father and said, “Her teeth are actually in surprisingly good shape. I’d have surely thought that they’d all be half eaten away by now, from all that acid she’s known for spitting.”

Harf stared incredulously at Drix, who still held his wriggling daughter, who could do little more than gurgle with her jaws being held firmly apart. Then, the substance of Drix’ comment hit him, and the impact of seeing his troublesome daughter being thoroughly dominated and held mute, in such a ridiculous position, suddenly sent Harf into gales of side-splitting laughter.

* * * *

“You cannot possibly be serious!” shrieked N’raal, daughter of Region-Master Harf, of Region-2, after being told of her arranged betrothal to Region-Master Drix, of Region-7. 

“Oh, but I am, N’raal… quite serious indeed,” responded her sire, seriously.

“But why would he even
want
me?” wailed N’raal.

“He liked your teeth.”

N’raal shrieked again at her father’s comment, as the memory of when that detestable creature had literally laid paws upon her and forcefully inspected her teeth like she was a brood-mare he was considering
to purchase.

“He physically assaulted me, right in front of you, and then you have the audacity to betroth me to that monster?”

“He did not actually hurt you, N’raal. It was only your insufferable pride that may have been bruised a little,” said Harf to his daughter. 

“HOW COULD YOU?” wailed N’raal. “Do you really want me gone from here so badly that you’d really hand me off to some stranger who just walked in your door?”

“I told you, daughter,” said Harf. “I told you that I was through putting up with your constant petulance and that I’d accept the first offer I received for your paw. Look on the bright side. At least Drix is not some stoneless Raknaa.”

“AGH!  I won’t go! You can’t make me go!”

“On the contrary, my daughter. You forget who I am, just as I forgot who I am. Your combative nature exhausted me… wore down my will. It was easier to just attempt to placate your incorrigible behavior than to fight with you, but I did you no favors with my leniency. I was the one who empowered you to become the termagant that you have become. It was Drix who reminded me of exactly who and what I am — master, not only of this house, but also over this entire region.”

“I… will… NOT… GO!” N’raal screamed.

“Drix will be good to you, and good for you, N’raal. But I warn you, he is a true alpha and will not put up with your pugnacious behavior the way that I have.”

“I’m
not
some brood-mare that you can simply give away to some monster to satiate his lust and birth more monsters just like him!” N’raal wept. 

“Actually, you might very well become exactly that, N’raal,” said her father. “You can submit and behave as a proper mate to Drix, or you can become nothing more than a repository for his seed. The choice is entirely yours.”

* * * *

As N’raal’s next impending heat cycle approached, according to the prearranged betrothal agreement, Region-Master Harf personally delivered his daughter N’raal to Drix’ new headquarters aboard his personal spaceliner. To attend the bonding ceremony, Harf had also brought all of his immediate family, a significant number of household servants and a surprising number of Raknaa guards, six of which, it was rumored, had been required to physically carry a wildly struggling N’raal aboard the spaceplane.

While news that the infamous N’raal was going to be bonded was met throughout the empire with astonishment and misgivings, N’raal had been busy adding to her legend as the most reluctant bride in Rak history. Having to be bodily carried, kicking and screaming, from her father’s spaceliner on their arrival at
Vnayrk
merely added another chapter.

As a newly opened frontier planet, the amenities available on
Vnayrk
were minimal, at best… non-existent at worst. While Harf and his family lodged in comparative luxury aboard his spaceliner, his servant staff made do with living in a sub-divided Raknaa barracks, whose normal occupants were in the field on training maneuvers. They’d put N’raal into a Spartan, makeshift sleeping chamber having a newly welded steel door with a keyed lock, to help reduce the probability of having to conduct future searches for her in the surrounding forest. Being locked into a room lacking what N’raal considered even minimal amenities provided her with a vast plethora of subjects, about which she loudly offered a wide variety of creative, indignant complaints. From the luxury afforded by Harf’s spaceliner, his family generally considered the frontier experience an exotic adventure, while his servant staff merely considered it all a pain under the tail. 

That pain became even more pronounced when preparing N’raal for the bonding ceremony itself became a trial — the bride emphatically refused to cooperate to even the slightest degree. Four large Raknaa females had to be brought in from a mining site on the opposite side of the planet just to get her bathed and dressed properly. Getting N’raal to the makeshift Dolrak temple was another exercise in wriggling-body handling, as care had to be taken as to not soil or wrinkle her magnificent golden bonding dress.

Solemn Dolrak priestesses intoned the traditional chants imploring Dol to bless the bonding with long life (in a war zone, debatable), prosperity (as Drix was a Region-Master, a foregone conclusion), happiness (with N’raal involved, probably impossible) and many healthy cubs (again, with N’raal involved, highly unlikely). N’raal was being held firmly in place by ankle shackles, with
a massive Raknaa guard holding to each arm. A cloth had been wadded and stuck between her teeth, as she emphatically insisted on screeching and screaming for her release whenever it was removed.

Drix answered in the affirmative when the Dolrak priestess officiating the ceremony asked if he accepted N’raal as his mate… yada, yada, yada.  When N’raal was asked if she accepted Drix as her mate, the gag was removed from between her teeth, and N’raal spat threads and shouted, “I certainly do NOT! Someone help…
mpf.
”
 

N’raal’s father, standing beside her answered cheerfully in her stead, “She does,” after the gag had been restored. The normally solemn and dour Dolrak priestess officiating gave a hint of a smile, just before she declared Drix and N’raal mates for life. 

N’raal, for her part, wriggled even harder and did her best to scream indignities around the gag. Later, N’raal’s continued vexatious behavior required that she spend the majority of her bonding ceremony feast locked in her room, as to avoid having everyone else’s day ruined as well. So with half of the newly bonded couple missing, Drix and Harf officiated at the modest affair, which constituted the largest celebration yet seen in this region of space.

* * * *

It had taken all four of the big Raknaa females to hold N’raal down, while Drix personally put a collar, taken off of a watch-beast, around her neck. The collar had been fitted with a radio transmitter and a locking mechanism, ensuring that she couldn’t take it off unassisted. N’raal spat an amazing number of vilifying invectives at Drix during her collaring, several of which brought Drix’ parentage into serious question.

When he finished attaching the collar, Drix signaled to the Raknaa that they could release N’raal and they scurried from the room to avoid her next verbal assault. N’raal took a moment to run to the mirror and examine the collar around her neck before she rounded on Drix.

“A watch-beast collar?” she shrieked indignantly. “You put an
animal
collar on me? HOW DARE YOU?”