Chapter 9
The escape-pod design was inferior compared to the Daranthiki original, that much became quickly evident.
Not only were the components cheaply made of low-quality space-regulated metal alloys, but the pod’s propulsion engine was weaker than the original design.
Built by the lowest bidder, by Zil’s estimation.
It was not an unusual practice, but it seemed particularly customary among humans.
Disgusting foolishness was what it was. But human corporations were notorious for cutting corners for profit.
Among the Daranthiki there was little in the way of personal property and profit.
Safeguarding their people was the greatest priority—ironically even for those that they groomed to be warriors and who faced the risk of dying on the battlefield for the Empire.
But the Empire fed the people as its own children.
The success and prosperity of the Empire was the success and wellbeing of the people.
Not even the Imperial family, who had every need provided for and seen to, was permitted to hoard wealth.
To do so risked the wrath of the people and the gods.
The Daranthiki were not perfect by any means, but at least he never had to worry about being sent out into battle with his life depending on a sub-par escape-pod.
What was worse was having a fragile human female likewise depending on it.
Half the things he could walk away from were likely to kill her.
For that matter, he could also go longer without food and water and derive nutrients from things that humans could not.
Given that he had little food and water on him, and escape-pod was unequipped with provisions by its negligent owners, that was going to make things very difficult for them upon landing.
When they landed.
That was another issue. The low-yield propulsion was forcing the AI to recalibrate.
He could hear it in the background, the faint sonorous tones as it made adjustments for their limited air supply.
Which meant that the planet that they might end up on could be even less ideal than he had originally calculated.
Still habitable, but more in the sense of not asphyxiating due to the lack of necessary gases in the air, but may still slowly starve to death.
Zil’s mouth tightened with annoyance. It was a good thing that she was paying him a considerable amount in credits to tolerate the complications she was bringing to his otherwise routine and well-ordered life as a mercenary.
As it was, the current complications were already innumerable.
The most pressing one being the way he could not possibly put enough distance between them.
Despite his best efforts to maintain a proper amount of space between their bodies, she did not sufficiently respect the invisible boundaries between them.
For hours her body had gradually slid back toward him despite his efforts to keep himself pressed firmly against the back of the escape-pod and it was doing things to his body that he was having increasing difficulty ignoring.
Especially now. At some point she had slumped with exhaustion, and now she was lying against him, her brown hair brushing against his cheek and nose.
It wasn’t as soft as that of Daranthiki, but the texture possessed a sleekness that he could not resist brushing his cheek against.
He should feel repulsed. She was crusted with blood in various stages of drying, but it was not disgust that was making his insides twist. Her bottom fit too perfectly between his thighs, and her small frame was tucked against him in a way that accentuated a suggestion of how well they might fit together despite the disparity between their sizes.
Perhaps it was her scent that was doing it to him.
Although scents of decayed matter and blood clung heavily to her, beneath it all, there was a light fragrance that captured his attention at inopportune times, teasing him as it played on his long-slumbering needs and desires.
Zil shifted her weight in a desperate bid for relief, only for Daisy’s bottom to slide at a more perfect angle to nestle against his crotch.
His breath exploded from him, but he barely dared to breathe out of fear of startling her awake while in such a precarious position.
He debated how he might wake her when suddenly her bottom rubbed in a slow grind against his thickening cock as she rolled to her side and curled up against him.
He froze though every bit of heat was drawing downward to that apex.
Lust burned hot in his belly and was slowly growing despite his attempt to control it.
Unfortunately, there was no way to get away from it.
All he could do was remain as still as possible and try to ignore it as the stars seemed to remain unmoving and unchanging despite their current speed.
If not for the star-chart marking their progress, he might have been convinced that they were merely drifting.
The recalibrations did not last long. The map readjusted, locking onto a new planet. Planetary designation: Habtal.
Fifteen hours. Daisy, freshly awakened from cryostasis, would likely sleep throughout those hours as her body succumbed to its need for real rest. Zil would not be that fortunate. His kind required less sleep on average, and a legionnaire required even less than that.
He groaned as his head fell back against the headrest. He winced at the pain that promptly shot through his head in response.
Another inferior adjustment in the pod’s design.
He took note of it with the intention of lodging a complaint in the future with the Earth-based manufacturer.
It was not anywhere near sufficiently padded.
It was nothing more than thinly padded material stretched over metal.
In fact, every part of the seat felt uncustomarily hard and resistant beneath his big frame.
He did not know which was worse: the risk of back pain or the rapidly growing pleasure that gathered at every connection point between himself and the female.
Sighing, he attempted to shift his weight a little to make himself comfortable without causing any unnecessary friction between their bodies.
It was nearly impossible. Even the most minor shift sent a surge of heat to his cock.
As a cybernetic legionnaire, he was conditioned to withstand long sessions of torture—but never like this.
He was molded by pain, not the agonizing build of pleasure unsated and unreleased.
The hours passed slowly as he focused on his breathing and willed himself to ignore the experiences of his flesh. His body and mind did not heed his commands. He was weak. This small, fragile female had momentarily made him weak.
Zil gritted his teeth. Despite his natural armor, his skin felt over-sensitized and hot, so that every shift of her body in her sleep sent tiny fissures of awareness through him.
He closed his eyes in an attempt to focus on blocking it out, but that too failed.
It persisted in growing until it was a background sensory haze that completely enveloped him.
He breathed it in, his body thrumming with a steady pulse of desire.
He almost failed to recognize the quiet growling groan that tripped to the same rhythm.
He was not even aware that he was making any sound at all.
It was all part of the current state of being.
He dwelled there in the heart of it, consumed by his primitive desire, his arms unwittingly tightening around the female nestled against him, until at last his consciousness surrendered to slumber.