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  In fact, they say that the battle rage of the haughty Aurelians pales only in comparison to the frenzy of their mating rage.

  But whatever I think, the beautician is right. It’s inarguably a better fate to be purchased by Aurelians than Toads. It’s far from ideal – the idea of being sold at all is horrific – but the best fate of all is one that is already out of reach.

  The simple desire for life to go back to normal – that everything could just stay the same…

  But nothing will ever be the same – I know it deep in my heart.

  The odds are that I, or my best friend, or both of us – or all of us – are going to suffer a terrible fate. The horrors of being forced into a Toad harem, or the painful dominance of an Aurelian triad, are inconsequentially different, surely.

  It’s still being sold. Being traded – like livestock.

  The seven-feet-tall Aurelians at least look like the Greek Gods of yore, even if they also have as little mercy as those cruel deities did. The entire universe knows all about the Aurelians – or are under the boot of their ‘Empire’ already.

  But these three Aurelians? They’ll be the first of their kind to land on Planet Reena since we declared Independence a decade ago.

  Their boots on the pavement will make our world tremble. I’ve never seen an Aurelian in real life before, but I can already tell that the larger-than-life aliens will seem even bigger in the imposing, marble-hued flesh.

  I take a deep breath and reluctantly pull the dress over my head. Instantly, I’m ruined. I sit down and shift uncomfortably in the chair, disturbed by the intensity with which the fabric teases and torments every inch of skin it touches. The torment on my nipples is especially intense, and I honestly don’t know how much I can take of it.

  Thankfully, the beautician reaches to my neck and presses something on the fabric. The torturously arousing sensation diminishes slightly – enough for me to function.

  “T-Thank you,” I gasp gratefully.

  I can see the beautician’s face in the mirror, and I see there was no kindness in her action.

  “I can’t have you shifting and squirming in the seat while I apply your makeup,” she says sternly. “Rest assured – the dress will be returned to full intensity before you reach the auction stage.”

  I swallow – my mouth feeling dry as I imagine that fate.

  Even at the lower setting, the dress makes me squirm in reluctant, uncomfortable arousal – but all the pleasure dresses in the world couldn’t make me feel anything pleasurable if I was to be bought by one of the three Bullfrogs who prompted Peter to organize this impromptu slave auction.

  They must be important business leads indeed to warrant such a welcome – and for Peter to be willing to sacrifice his own hand-selected retinue to appease them.

  I shudder, and then try to sit still as the beautician goes to work.

  In silence, I stare at my reflection in the mirror as she changes me.

  And it is that – a change. I’d always known that Peter found me pretty – that was the reason he took me into his personal service in the first place, instead of selling me away to some off-world brothel… or worse.

  But I’d never before thought of myself as beautiful – and whoever this beautician is, she’s talented. No, perhaps a magician. I barely recognize myself when she’s done applying the makeup to my face.

  In fact, I wish she’d done a worse job.

  I look too good – good enough to buy.

  Maybe I’ll have a chance to smear the makeup before I’m on stage – make myself look ugly… Deformed. Anything to make me less appealing.

  I know it sounds vain, but this is a matter of life and death. Beauty is a commodity in a slave auction. I have to do everything I can to make myself, and my best friend Danielle, less beautiful – and without Peter or his goons realizing it.

  Tonight, my future will be sealed one way or another, as a result or my success or failure.

  Either, I’ll be returned to the service of a man so cold and heartless that he’d sell me into slavery without a thought…

  Or, I’ll be the property of disgusting, warty Bullfrog…

  No, wait. There’s a third possibility – and it’s no better. Not really.

  I might leave the auction stage owned by three specimens of the most dominant, powerful species in the universe.

  5

  Conan

  We descend down into the hanger and the truth of Evander’s words echo in my mind.

  Queen Jasmine’s new policies have torn our great Empire apart. More and more planets are turning their backs on the protection we Aurelians once offered them. Reena is just one of many worlds that declared their independence from Aurelian rule – and the Empire forsake them immediately afterward.

  No protection. No governance. My people washed our hands of them.

  And in our absence, opportunists scurried from the darkness like cockroaches. Take this world, for example. In the absence of Aurelian rule, slavery has prospered here.

  It’s just another example of how humanity is not fit to rule itself. Aurelians have to be the strong arm of the universe – one that reins the other impudent species in. Without Aurelian rule, moral anarchy spreads. The standards of right and wrong become forgotten.

  Slavery – once one of the most forbidden, unforgivable practices that carried with it the death sentence for all found guilty of participating – has returned to Reena, and other planets like it.

  Aurelians need to stamp it out. Again.

  And yet, I don’t wish to enslave the people of this planet, no more than I’d tolerate them practicing slavery of their own.

  No, I want to own this planet, not its people, and lead them to a better future.

  I peer through the sights of the Reaver’s Orb-Beam. I want to put my fingers on the trigger but it would be useless if I did. We diverted all power away from the weapons, as per the instructions from our buyer. Once we make the deal, we’ll be rid of the Reaver – and any chance the Empire have to track us. More than that, we’ll have enough capital to start up a new life on this planet.

  Evander touches us down in the nearly-empty hanger. There are a few small attack ships nearby, but nothing that could stand against an Aurelian Reaver. We could burn through everything if we wanted – with just a few short blasts from my Orb-Beam.

  But not for long. Not after we make this deal. Then it’s theirs. We’re putting Aurelian technology into the hands of slavers.

  I hope Evander’s plan works – or we’ll leave this planet much worse than before we touched down. Before, it was merely ruled by slavers. With our technology, it’ll be dominated by them.

  Evander opens the side doors of our Reaver and we jump out. My boots hit the ground hard and I get a feel for the local gravity. It’s a little big heavy for my liking – and that’ll make close combat weapons less useful, while making long-distance firearms more effective. That’s the exact opposite of the Aurelian style of combat – and reduces the edge I’ll have against any of the local population who might decide to cause trouble.

  Two humans are waiting for us. Behind them are an army of technicians. My dislike for these humans is instantaneous. One of them is lean, with a wiry physique and mustache that’s waxed so elegantly it suggests vanity. The other is short, even by human standards, and carries a potbelly.

  “Welcome to planet Reena,” the mustached man bows slightly. “The city of Lipa welcomes you.”

  My eyes scan the hanger bay for any potential sign of ambush. I can at least tell that the technicians aren’t combat trained. Military men dressed up as mechanics would stand differently, move different and feel differently. I trust my instincts.

  “They’re civilians,” I telepath to my triad. Evander and Augustus trust my judgement, but none of us relax. Not yet.

  I still feel like we have the edge – even if these humans are planning to betray us. I’m close enough to the leaders of the group – the mustached man and the short one – th
at even if they suddenly gave snipers the order to rain laser fire down at us from a hidden vantage point, I could still rip both their throats out before I died. I wouldn’t even bother reaching for the Orb-Sword at my belt – such treachery would deserve death by my bare hands.

  Evander stands before the two men, towering over them both. The two men stumble back a few paces in fear. It disgusts me. I have no respect for sycophants.

  We need to reach the boss of their outfit if we want to make true moves in this place. To do that, though, we need to get into the heart of his territory. We need to earn his trust.

  “Do what you need to do,” Evander growls, gesturing towards our Reaver.

  The man with the mustache snaps his fingers and the technicians descend on our Reaver like a swarm of insects. They’ll find everything in order as they examine it.

  We’ll make a fortune for this sale, but it still leaves me uneasy. An Aurelian Reaver, powered by a full Orb and with twin Orb-Beams, would be a powerful addition to any army. This ‘Peter’ character will instantly become the most well-equipped gangster on the entire planet.

  “You’ll find everything in order,” Evander repeats. The two humans nod nervously. I know they’re as eager as we are that their technicians don’t find any problems – because they know it would get ugly if we weren’t given what we were promised.

  For five long minutes we stand in silence – until the lead technician scurries over and addresses the two aides.

  “Everything is in order. This is a brand-new Aurelian Reaver. Barely been used. Hasn’t even taken a single las-cannon hit, and no repairs have been made at this point.”

  The two aides share a glance. The one with the moustache finds his courage. “A brand-new Reaver? So, you three didn’t serve in the Aurelian Army for long?”

  “Our service doesn’t concern you,” Augustus growls. The technician cringes and falls back as his words echo through the hanger bay. The mustached man swallows nervously, and nods.

  “We didn’t mean to offend.” He snaps his fingers. “Your payment.”

  We asked for payment to be in solid cash – not in credits that could be traced back to us. The local currency is something called the Ire, and we’re familiar enough with it to know they won’t try to screw us by exchanging counterfeit money.

  As Augustus nods at the mustached man, one of the subordinate technicians scurries out of sight – to return moments later with a steel case that he opens with shaking fingers. Inside, neatly stacked, are massive piles of high-denomination bills.

  I’ve been trained since birth not to show emotion – but even my eyes widen as I gaze upon all that money. It will be more than enough for us to live like kings here – for years, without ever having to earn more.

  But we do plan on earning more. Much more.

  “Did they fuck us?” Augustus demands through our Bond.

  Evander says nothing. He drags the case in front of him and carefully counts the bills. Each stack of bills is an inch thick; and they contain an oily liquid sealed between the sheets, which we know of to be a highly-effective anti-counterfeiting tool.

  “Good.” Evander’s voice is dry, as he snaps shut the case and throws it casually towards me. I snatch the heavy case of the air. It’s substantial, even for me – and I’m many times stronger than a human.

  I don’t mind that, though. I don’t like having one of my hands full, but as I feel the heft of the thick case in my hand, I realize it could be used as a weapon if that’s what it ever came to.

  A weapon. A makeshift weapon.

  Seemingly unrelated, I suddenly get a flashback of the horrors of that underground Scorp nest – the one we’d foolishly been sent to clear, and instead barely escaped with our lives from.

  The one that had driven us to go Rogue.

  My mind flashes, as I remember red, red eyes staring at me through the darkness – tinged with a shade of electric blue.

  I’d seen Scorp before. These were different. Even in comparison to the regular, nine-feet-tall, snapping monstrosities… These specimens were the most fearsome beasts I had ever encountered.

  “Come back to us!”

  It’s Evander’s voice, clear in my mind. He felt my fear through the Bond and tried to draw me away from it.

  The sound of his voice – intangible as it is – reassures me. I take a ragged breath, and instantly I’m calm again; my eyes wide and my instincts ready for battle. A small shudder runs through me, but still I get control of my mind.

  If you don’t have control of that – you have nothing.

  Perhaps sensing my momentary distraction, the potbellied aide clears his throat nervously.

  “We would like to extend a warm welcome for you to attend the private auction tonight,” the small man stammers. “Only a select few will be invited – the elite of our society. The proceedings will be taking place at the Coldstone Amphitheatre, downtown.”

  The three of us turn to the potbellied man – barely able to disguise the disgust on our faces.

  Ten years ago. That was how recently this planet declared independence from the Aurelian Empire. Already, they’ve reestablished slave auctions – holding them in their downtown core, as if they’re spectacles to be witnessed, not abominations to be shameful of.

  “We will be there,” Evander growls gravely.

  I stiffen when I hear that, and my surprise must be apparent through the Bond. Evander ignores the sense of my emotions, though – instead coldly striding forward. I glance briefly at Augustus, and then the two of us follow him. I can feel the stares from the aides and all those technicians, burning into our broad backs distrustfully. I endure the heat of their scorn, though – until the three of us emerge from the warehouse and into the outside world.

  The sun is bright, hanging high above us. It doesn’t take me long to get my bearings. As we touched down on the planet Reena for the first time, I got a good look at this capital city, and my warrior instincts made me instantly memorize the layout.

  The downtown core of the city consists largely of high-rise buildings, while the outskirts surrounding it are sectioned off into neighborhoods of heavy agriculture and production. The core of the city is compact – with a highly-concentrated population.

  That’s good. I think back to my training in the Aurelian Cadet school, before we embarked on our hundred years of service to the Aurelian Empire.

  The hundred years that lasted barely a week.

  In tactical training and strategy, we’d been taught that the more centered a population was, the easier it would be to conquer by force.

  These humans had no idea, but that’s exactly what my triad intended to do.

  There was just three of us, after all. The humans wouldn’t be expecting a coup…

  …but we were Aurelian Warriors, and we were empowered even further by no longer being shackled by the rules of the Empire.

  Outside the warehouse, I look around to confirm my bearings. We’re nearer the outskirts of the city, in an industrial sector. I noticed the layout as we were touching down. It was a good choice of places to land clandestinely, as tankers and freight ships churn through these warehouses and dockyards almost constantly.

  Meanwhile, all around them, towering factories spew smoke in the air. The streets around us are empty, and a cold breeze rushes down the sidewalks. The locals are either toiling in the factories, or safely tucked up at home. There’s barely any reason to be out on these streets.

  One man does appear. He turns the corner, takes a look at us, and his eyes widen in alarm…

  He turns the other way and practically runs.

  I can’t blame him. The humans are aware that Aurelians haven’t been seen on Reena in ten years. Our sudden arrival is ominous. The humans we encounter know that the sight of Aurelians – even Rogue ones, like us – foreshadows a period of change.

  Most humans fear change. The clever ones adapt to it. Only the bravest or most foolish actively seek it out.

  This ‘Pet
er’ fellow who bought our Reaver falls into the second camp. He is foolish in his greed. Not only did he welcome us three to his planet – clearly underestimating our ability to forge an empire of our own here – but he was arrogant enough to assume he’d earn back plenty of the fortune he’d paid for our Reaver by appealing to our baser nature and having us spend it at his slave auction.

  “Where to?”

  It’s Augustus asking. We’re in hostile territory – actively independent of the Empire – and both Augustus and I are wondering what our next steps should be.

  He’s the one to pose the question, but it’s forefront in my mind, too We spent our youth on the Aurelian home world of Colossus. There, everything was regimented. We trained at a designated time. We ate at a designated time. We slept at a designated time.

  We learned warfare and leadership under the guidance of the Elders, using texts and protocol that had remained unchanged for generations. Aurelian culture is one that seemed to have stood still against the ages.

  And yet as soon as Evander, Augustus and I left Colossus, we learned the truth.

  We left to serve our species – to perform our hundred years of service. We went believing everything we had been taught. Within hours, all of that disappeared in a haze of blood and terror.

  The old ways were a lie. Now, the three of us are out in the middle of nowhere; and not only do we no longer have our people, our weapons, or our leaders to rely on…

  …we no longer believe the lies they taught us.

  The only one I do trust is Evander. Any other leader would have demanded we launch ourselves into the fray – joining our company in the dank, blood-soaked Scorp caverns in a vain effort to earn honor and respect.

  Any other leader would have led us to the same gruesome end as those hundreds of other warriors – the noble men we served with.

  Perhaps they have earned their honor, and respect, by remaining steadfast while we turned and ran…

  But honor and respect cannot be spent – especially not when you’re dead and dismembered beneath the ground, never to see the sun again.