Once a Slave...

Sometimes during the long periods when the Lexx drifted on its journey without incident, Kai would emerge from his cryopod and after carefully ascertaining that Stan and Xev slept, wander about the ship to be alone with his thoughts. After regaining his memories his protoblood had been limited and he had been able to be awake only during times of crisis. Since Zev had retrieved protoblood from the Gigashadow he had found himself needing to be awake and alone at times.

He looked in on Stan, who always seemed to sleep with a furrow between his brows. For all his many faults, in spite of the mistakes he'd made--and kept making--Kai felt a sort of warmth towards Stan, a sympathy. The strongest emotion he'd felt since regaining himself was the guilt he'd felt when he'd killed Stan. Emotions. He told his companions he had none and he did not lie; at least he had none in the sense that they did. All he had left were ghosts. It was why he had been able to send Squish to his death without a qualm.

And then there was Xev. She lay in a tumble of long limbs and tangled sheets with 790 watching over her, as always. The robot head's eyes focused on him and he held a finger to his lips. It was good that Xev was back, alive. He had been unable to mourn her as Stan and 790 had; had only been able to regret her passing, just as he regretted her love for him. There were times, he knew, when she had wept for him. He turned and made his way to the bridge.

Had any been observing Kai, they would have smiled, perhaps, with a poignant amusement, for the assassin sat with his legs sprawled out in front of him like a small child, peering at the Lexx's lens. The depth of the blackness had a meditative quality, and he opened his mind and let come what may. Some memories he discarded automatically; of what use were the memories of the many deaths he'd caused? Memories of his mortal life slid over his mind like drops of quicksilver but tonight they did not coalesce. Instead, something completely unexpected rose to the surface.

*****************

As silent as his title, the spiritual and temporal ruler of the League of 20,000 Planets, His Divine Shadow, drifted down the cold stairways and along the stone walkways of the mortuary. Unerringly, he proceeded to one storage drawer in particular; slowly he drew his gloved fingertips across its face.

He opened the drawer and a nearly inaudible sound, almost a purr, rose from his throat as he looked at the still figure within. The...*thing*...inside the drawer was beautiful, as beautiful as poets proclaimed Death to be. How appropriate, thought His Shadow, amused, for this last specimen of a poetic, romantic culture. Without waking the sleeper, he traced the outline of the sensuous lips and the delicately sharp cheekbones, then drew his finger along the red tattoo that stood out against the pale skin. Kai, last of the BrunnenG: You had such faith in your prophecy, that you would destroy the Divine Order. Now, you serve the Divine Order--now, you serve *me*.

He closed the drawer and returned unhurriedly to his private quarters, but the thought continued to entertain him through the day. The Brunnen-G, famous for leading humanity to victory over the insect civilization--and yet, there was one survivor from each. Humanity's victory was hollow: they would find that out in due time. Meanwhile...this human body that served as his host could have its uses...

The guard appeared immediately at his summons. "I worship His Shadow."

"In the mortuary. Assassin number 01-1228-79. Bring him to me."

"Are there any instructions I should convey, sir?"

"No. I shall instruct him myself."

Soon the guards reappeared with the Brunnen-G. "Who would you like me to kill?" the assassin asked.

"No one at this time. I have another task for you. Come." The assassin followed obediently as His Shadow led the way to his resting place, a raised and secluded alcove, padded and softly lit. He turned to face the assassin.

"Kneel," he commanded and again his servant obeyed. Parting his robe, His Shadow bared his genitals. His cock had already begun to harden in anticipation and taking it in his hand he drew it along the dead man's face, whose only reaction was a slight frown when the organ traced the line of his tattoo. Ah...your mind tells you that you should feel disturbed, but you *cannot* feel.

He drew the Brunnen-G's forelock between the fingers of his other hand and wrapped it around his now-erect cock. The kneeling man flinched slightly but did not move from his submissive position. His Shadow savored the moment. So sweet was victory.

"Take it in your mouth," the master commanded, and knowing instinctively that when alive this beauty had done this act before, added, "Perform."

The mouth that engulfed him was moist and cool. "Suck the head first," and he watched the lovely cheeks hollow as the required suction was applied.

"Ah, yes..." This one was talented. The suction eased, then resumed, then the rhythm was repeated, while the tongue teased at the connecting tissue of the foreskin. His Shadow began to rock his host-body's hips, slowly, watching as his cock pumped his slave's soft lips. He thrust deeper, inch by inch, watching the assassin take it.

Harder...deeper...until he felt the constriction of the other's throat muscles, then forced his cock even deeper. On the brink of orgasm he pulled out, out of the throat, the soft mouth, the full lips, to ejaculate on that pale and perfect face. There was no reaction from his victim.

His Shadow remembered the thrill his Divine Predecessor had felt while forcing the knife through the warrior's flesh and up underneath the sternum to the heart; the satisfaction at watching the light go out in his eyes. With something of that same sense of satisfaction he looked at the mess he'd left on his slave's face.

"Get up," he said. "Take off your clothing." He knew the body he would see would not be as unblemished as one of the living slaves he could have commanded to his bed, but this... experience... was beyond mere pleasures of the flesh. The bio-electronic protrusions on the assassin's chest, the machinery between his legs, he dismissed with a casual glance. "Lie down, on your stomach."

The assassin complied; His Shadow turned his head so that the cheek with the tattoo was facing upwards, and the long black braid trailed down his back. Swiftly, brutally, he penetrated him. He knew the dead man did not feel the pain and he didn't care...or so he thought. But as he fucked the passive corpse he felt a thin thread of dissatisfaction. How much better it would be if the last Brunnen-G would fight him! Struggle, snarl, shout insults at him--but no. There was no response at all.

The thread grew and uncoiled into rage. He seized the braid and jerked the other's head back sharply. "Whom do you serve?" he demanded.

The assassin sounded faintly puzzled. "I serve His Divine Shadow."

"How long have you served me?"

"I...don't know."

"Do you know how long you *will* serve me?"

"No."

"Forever! As long as you exist, you will be my servant, my slave!" He pulled out roughly and thrust the assassin on his back. Re-entering, he rammed the unresisting body viciously; at the same time he slapped the beautiful face, back and forth, over and over. Though he still received no response, the violence brought on his orgasm and he grunted as he came.

Not enough...not enough. Jerking his slave by his braid, he threw him towards his clothes. "Get dressed and get out of my sight." He stood still, regaining his calm as the assassin dressed and left. If only he had begged, cowered, fought--if only he were *capable* of some response.

*************

It was not his memory, but that of one of the Divine Predecessors. It was why he had experienced it through His Divine Shadow's perception rather than his own. Coming to himself, he found that he had shifted position, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. I'm cold, he thought, and then: why did I think that? I do not feel the cold.

As he made his way back to the cryo-chamber he mused: His Divine Shadow and the Divine Predecessors are gone. All but the last remnants of the Divine Order are gone.

And yet, he thought, as the lid of the cryopod closed over him, I will always be His slave.

FIN