Galactic Energies (17 page)

In that same moment, he lost control over his own mind and limbs. He felt he no longer needed to make his own choices. Every other thought and emotion left him as the energy radiating from those feet enveloped him. He observed their every detail: they seemed perfect, like the most beautiful things he had ever had the honor to lay his eyes upon.

2

The Captain closed his eyes and placed his lips on the Queen's feet. Time stopped. He felt he could remain frozen in this position forever, without being able nor wanting to separate from her. He wished harder and harder that this moment would never end, that the energy moving from his lips into his entire body would fill him up completely.

“Rise, earthling.”

He obeyed, though extremely reluctantly. He delicately removed his lips from her feet: the separation was excruciating, as if he was depriving himself of everything that he had ever truly wanted all his life. He stood up straight.

The Queen was swathed in a tight dress whose dark colors were constantly changing. The Captain did not dare look into her eyes, instead he observed her limbs, her lithe legs, her tiny and perfect waist, her generous breasts. The vampire's classic figure showed through her dress. Arcot wondered what he should say or do, yet was unable to utter a word.

“Look at me!”

He raised his head and looked into her eyes, dark as the depths of outer space. Her black, extremely long hair was slightly wavy, licking the edges of the throne upon which she sat. Her lips, as red as blood, stood out against her milky white skin. Arcot immediately sensed the sheer power of her gaze. The emotions he had been holding back until then erupted all at once. He wanted to tell her and show her an infinite number of things. His words were ready to gush from his mouth, but the Queen cut him off before he began.

“You can't stay here.”

The Captain did not reply. He didn't understand. Those words were a stark contrast to everything he felt at that moment. He couldn't even comprehend the idea of being away from her. Vril continued:

“The Vlaoli are an elite race. We have lived on this planet and this planet alone for thousands of years. We only trade with other beings in this galaxy to the extent necessary. We continuously study other planets, much how scientists study mice in a lab. For us, other people are simply not worthy of interacting with us. We believe that one Vlaolian vampire is worth the population of an entire world. The few foreigners that live among us have become our pets. You are young, earthling, a dreamer, determined, courageous. The mental shield you tried using doesn't do anything in this hall. I know everything about you. If you ask to stay here, I can permit you to do so in chains, sitting in a corner of the royal palace. You would spend your days doing nothing else than begging for the occasional glance from me. Now turn around, go away and never come back.”

The Captain still had not dared to address a single word to the Queen. He felt short of breath. His tongue was made from stone. After her response, all kinds of thoughts swam through his mind. Nothing made sense. He remembered the vampire stories he and his friends had told as teenagers. He remembered the images of bloodthirsty vampires. Finally he found his answer.

“There's something that not even you, my Queen, can do without.”

Vril looked at him curiously and, for the first time, a glint of interest shone through her hard and firm eyes. She intuited what Arcot was going to say and felt a deep, dull desire throb inside of her. The Captain continued:

“I could be your living reserve of precious earthling blood.”

3

Several months passed. Princess Icolia, from the city of Mashrin, came to visit the royal palace of Vlaolia. Mashrin was the exact opposite of the capital, and thus the city's customs were also very different. Vlaolia was the symbol of power and hierarchy, the central hub for the planet's arts and culture, the place that received and sent all communications with the rest of the galaxy, while Mashrin existed in a state of anarchical obscurity. Most people didn't know what happened there. The city's vampires had few relationships with outsiders. It was said that the citizens of Mashrin had mastered the darkest arts, yet nobody knew exactly what those arts were. Among the Mashrinians, all of the power was in the hands of the Princess, whose family had always governed the city. Icolia was the symbol of everything Mashrinian. Nobody knew exactly how she governed the city, who served or worked for her, what she did all day, what rituals she participated in or where she was at any given time. Yet her presence and her power could be found wherever they were needed, often at just the right moment.

Princess Icolia entered the Queen's throne room, reached the bottom of the staircase and knelt down.

“Queen Vril, I bow to your power,” Icolia greeted her.

The Queen's lips curled into an imperceptible, sarcastic smile. If there was one thing Icolia would be happy to get rid of, it was the authority that the royal power held over Mashrin.

“Princess Icolia, out of all the governors of the cities of Vlaolia, your visits are the most infrequent, yet they are always so meaningful. I've heard that everything is going splendidly in Mashrin. There are, however, a few important matters we must discuss,” the Queen responded.

Vril asked many questions. Icolia answered in great detail, while still trying to say as little as possible. The two vampires focused on many issues concerning the government of the city of Mashrin, until Icolia said: “Queen, I can't help but notice how fruitful Vlaolia's contacts have been with the rest of the Galaxy, nor can I ignore the splendid animals you love to decorate your palace with.”

On the left side of the bottom of the staircase, dressed in a tight black Vlaolian suit, Captain Arcot was bent over, on his knees.

He hadn't left the capital since his first visit with the Queen. He had been granted permission to dismiss the crew of his space shuttle. His hair was cut and all of his body hair eliminated, according to local custom. They had taught him how to behave as a servant of the Queen, making him practice through all sorts of exercises and quizzing him on everything he had learned. The vampires in charge of his education had treated him with the utmost respect, as they treated every object that belonged to the Queen. Once ready, he was again brought before her throne. A long leash, of purely symbolic value, stretched between the base of the throne and the collar Arcot wore. Vril did not so much as glance at her new servant on that first day.

“Princess Icolia, we have much to learn from visitors from other planets. Though they do not have our physical and mental abilities, they bring along great culture and wisdom - certainly not comparable to our own, yet still of great interest.”

Icolia stared at the multiple marks on Arcot's neck as her body grew tense with desire.

“Yet, my Queen, I understand that Vlaolia has signed treaties with the galactic unions forbidding us from feeding upon the blood of other people.”

“True. We are prohibited from hunting on other planets and bound to respect the lives of all who land in our space ports,” Vril responded, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Indeed, the earthling you're looking at asked on his own initiative to become my servant and blood reserve, and that is what I granted him permission to do.”

Princess Icolia looked directly at Arcot.

The Captain had accepted everything given to him on this planet. He allowed them to change his appearance. He had worked to learn the customs of servitude in the palace, memorizing every single detail he was taught. He never objected. If this was the only way he could be close to the Queen, then he would not object. Once he was in the throne room, he fulfilled his role as the Queen's pet. He knew that one day the Queen would want him closer.

The Princess' gaze was penetrating, imbued with mystery, darkness and a wild force. Icolia turned back to the Queen.

“The studies you have allowed us to carry out in Mashrin would benefit greatly if we could apply them to a creature such as an earthling. I'd be immensely grateful if you would let us examine him for a few months.”

The Queen generally gave gifts of alien origin to governors of Vaolian cities whenever they paid her a visit. The Princess' request, therefore, was legitimate.

Yet the Queen responded drily:

“I've already made arrangements to give Mashrin a different gift, it's been planned out for some time now. I'm sure you won't wait so long before visiting me again. Perhaps then we can consider your request.”

“Naturally, my Queen. Forgive me for my impudence.”

The Princess was excused and headed back to the guest apartments, where she got ready for the evening rituals and dinner.

The Queen rose and began walking slowly down the stairs. Her being was awash with one of her deepest, crudest desires. She restrained herself from leaping upon her prey. Arnot was familiar with that particular aura and look. Yet this was why he had accepted the impossible, what he had decided to give up his own humanity for.

He leaned his head to the side, showing her his handsome neck, though the Queen's strength could easily have bowled him over. He felt her teeth penetrate his flesh, the blood flow from his body, the life slowly drip out of him.

His senses dimmed. His eyes closed. He began to sink into oblivion. Satiated, the Queen left the Captain's unconscious body on the cold, hard floor.

4

The Queen's bite never lasted long enough to kill him. Vril knew how to restrain herself and didn't want any fatalities. The Vlaolians had signed treaties with other worlds promising not to eat aliens, but there was a simpler and easier interplanetary agreement at work here: this earthling liked it. She didn't mind keeping him leashed near her throne, yet if this hadn't been the typical Vlaolian custom, she might have been willing to give him greater freedom of movement. Slowly, her curiosity towards Arcot turned into interest. She listened to the Captain's many stories of what he had seen during his travels. She asked him a lot about his native planet, the Earth, and the other worlds he had visited.

A few months later, Ambassador Preil from Alsia, a planet in a solar system about seven light years away from Vlaolia, came to negotiate the price of several thousand short-range tele-transport units the Queen wanted to install on her planet. They finalized many details of the arrangement without agreeing on a price.

“Queen Vril, we can't accept the conditions you're imposing upon us. Your maximum price is not even enough to pay for our effort,” Ambassador Preil said.

“Ambassador, we acknowledge the value and singularity of your production, yet neither justifies such a high price, if we compare it to equivalent products created in other worlds,” the Queen responded.

Captain Arcot wanted to tell the Queen something. He knew he couldn't interrupt the conversation. His presence in these discussions was purely ornamental. However, he sensed that Vril would notice his desire to communicate with her.

The Queen was intrigued. She excused herself and politely dismissed the Ambassador, then looked at her servant.

“Queen, you have granted me permission to express my opinion on the conversation you so graciously allowed me to listen to. I am familiar with Alsia, its inhabitants and its technology. I think we could make an offer to its scientists and some of its companies, and succeed in bringing production to Vlaolia,” Arcot explained.

“Continue,” the Queen urged.

The Captain explained at length what he thought she could do, and over the next few weeks, the Queen carried out his instructions. He knew perfectly well that any failure of the plan would have extinguished the tiny spark of interest Vril finally had in him. Until then, he hadn't been anything but a pet, a pretty alien ornament to show off to visitors, yet lately something different had shone through her proud gaze. The scheme went off without a hitch. Vlaolia began large-scale production of tele-transport devices, significantly improving upon the original designs, and exported them to many other worlds, even competing with Alsian products.

In the meantime, Queen Vril learned to draw from the Captain's experience more often, asking Arcot for his opinion on her relations with other worlds in the galaxy. They discussed new strategies that were foreign to Vlaolian customs, their conversations sometimes lasting for hours. The Captain enjoyed his new role immensely.

A casual observer would not have noticed any changes in their relationship. In the presence of others, the Queen reigned from atop her throne and Arcot stood at the bottom of the staircase wearing his collar. Vril didn't so much as look his way. The few that were privy to their new relationship thought it was nothing more than a whim, one of the sovereign's amusing little perversions. Vril was surprised by her visitor's extraordinary intelligence and insightfulness. He had an uncanny sense of strategy which, combined with his in-depth knowledge of many places in the Galaxy, made him a precious ally.

She continued to feed from him. After every bite, she waited for him to fully recover. She longed to feel his blood rush into her body and, as soon as she felt he was ready, loved to indulge in violent and ferocious attacks. The Captain experienced those moments with a mixture of terror and desire. The more scared he was, the stronger the Queen's desire burned. He knew what would happen if she failed to restrain herself. He had always known. It was something people told stories about, back when he was a teenager on Earth. Desire, dreams, hope, willpower, passion, the obsession that whatever happened, they'd never abandon him. He waited and hoped.

5

After an unusually brief period of time, Princess Icolia returned to speak with Queen Vril about the administration of Mashrin. The two vampires talked things over for a long time. No mention was made of the gift the Princess had asked for during her previous visit.

Once the state dinner was over, the Queen dismissed all those present and retired to her apartments. This was the only time Captain Arcot was granted any freedom. He could leave his little room and walk through the common areas of the royal palace, which were extraordinarily rich in Vlaolian culture and history.