MIRANDA’S DESTINY
by Candace Smith
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Candace Smith
Published by Strict Publishing International
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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PRELUDE
The ship traveled silently through space, and the look of hope was evident on all the pale faces. It had been well over a year since the planet had been discovered, but the evasive maneuvers necessary to protect them from their enemies had made the journey painfully slow. After several months, with no other ship appearing on the star charts, they felt confident they had not been followed. No one traveled to the primitive, dangerous outer worlds.
The three couples held hands and, communicating in their telepathic way, they encouraged each other that their plan would work. It had to; it was all that was left to them. They slowly parted and retreated to their quarters.
Mahana and Laryan lay back on their mattress, excited and more than a little nervous at the enormity of their tryst. The survival of their species depended on a successful coupling, and the mates felt the burden of this weight lingering in the background as the sexual heat of the moment was building.
Mahana’s liquid blue eyes stared up at her lover, and her pale face showed a slight hint of the flush of desire as her lips trembled with passion. The smoothness of Laryan’s hand traveled down her flat chest, the surface of which was barely rippled with the tiny light pink nipples of their kind. The mere brushing of his porcelain skin across the slight protuberances caused her to writhe in ecstasy, and her azure eyes sparkled with anticipation as his hand continued to the bared vee at the junction of her thighs.
Mahana’s small hand quivered as she reached between Laryan’s legs to find his finger-sized organ stiff and pulsing. He lifted his head, gasping and gritting his teeth in lust. The diminished size of their sex organs belied the unparalleled passionate nature of their species. The exotic advanced creatures had heightened nerves, exciting them and keeping them in a constant state of arousal for their mates.
As they gazed into each other’s watery wide eyes, Laryan swept Mahana’s juices along her cleft, and slowly inserted a long slender digit deep within her hot channel. When his thumb gently stroked her tiny pearled clit, her fist tightened on his shaft and she moaned, “Laryan, how I love you.”
He shifted his slender body on top of hers. “And I love you, Mahana, with all my soul.” He thrust deep within her, as her walls gripped and pulled at him, refusing to release him. He drove his need into her, and he felt his cock being almost unbearably squeezed and stretched with every plunge.
Mahana answered his desire with her own clenching demand, until they could not hold back, and their eyes became blank stares as the automatic trance induced by their climax showed them a vision of the future while his shaft emptied into her. He fell onto her, spent. Their ivory arms held each other while they studied each other’s eyes in silence, understanding their vision and the decision the remaining clan had agreed to. Mahana was now pregnant for the first time in five hundred years. This would be their race’s last chance to survive, and she gently caressed the pale skin over her womb with a mixture of love and sorrow. She would have so little time to be with her only child.
They were Atlantians, the last brave vestige of their dying kind. Only one insignificant planet in the far reaches of the outer world could support their species, but the child must be born and raised on its surface. Their parents could last only a few years, a decade or less, in the rich suffocating atmosphere, so their children were to be left behind on this unknown planet to be raised by natives. As the centuries passed and the Atlantian bloodline thinned, there should be three children in every generation that held their Atlantian parents’ gene. It was their species’ only hope of survival.
The remaining six Atlantians, three mated pairs, had traveled the worlds for centuries, outrunning those who wished to see them extinct. The enemies had destroyed the temples and the halls of learning, and only a few scrolls were safely sequestered on the ship before their planet was swallowed back into the black fathomless universe. Finally driven to the outer worlds, they found the planet of hope they had been searching for.
The three babies, two girls and Mahana’s son, were born the day after the clan reached the surface of the planet. Already, the adults could feel the weighted pressure of the atmosphere and the unfamiliar sensation as their bodies began to decay. They studied their struggling infants calmly, mentally scanning the tiny bodies trying to adapt and accept the challenging surroundings.
Mahana’s son’s fist clenched her finger as his lungs worked desperately to process the heavy air, and her eyes filled with tears as she looked at Laryan. “He decays, my love.”
Laryan gazed at her sadly and gently gripped her arm. “We knew to expect that, Mahana. Our son will survive long enough to procreate, but he will wither young and none of our babies will see a single century.” The couples held hands to comfort each other’s misery.
Their leader, Yatsema, finally broke the silence. “It is time to separate. There is so much to be done before we leave this place. Does anyone wish to speak before we begin?”
“I think we have planned as well as we can, considering the primitive environment. The signs and our teachings should provide the native species of this planet with the knowledge they need to ensure our genes survive until we return. Shall we discuss our visions?” Laryan suggested.
The clan agreed it would be wise to have some idea of what the future would hold for their efforts on this uncomfortable world.
“Mahana and I see our gene survives, but how it is transported from this planet and what the future holds beyond that, we do not know. We only know that our gene will survive to leave this place.”
There was a collective sigh of relief, and Yatsema’s mate stared at Mahana, her watery eyes filled with hope. “Did you see the other genes survive, as well?”
Mahana felt a wave of despair for her friend. At least she knew her ancient heritage would live on. “No.” She quickly added, “That does not mean your lines do not survive, only that our vision was limited to our own gene, because it was our combined focus.”
Yatsema’s voice was slightly contemptuous as he revealed his vision. “I see this planet being swallowed not long after the Great Calendar’s cycle ends. The primitives here have a barbaric sense to the nature and balance of this place, and they are greedy and driven. If not for your vision of a gene surviving, I would suggest not wasting our time with the instructions. Thank the gods that apparently some of those among this species will protect what we leave them with.”
Alderian was the last to speak, and the bewilderment of his recanted vision was etched in his pale features. “Our vision was of a battleship and a warrior standing in full armament before a sun and a moon, protecting them. We do not know what to make of it.” The Atlantians closed their eyes to meditate on this unusual vision. If the warrior was no enemy to the heavenly bodies, what role would he play in their future? In the end, they had no answer.
“It is time to prepare our messages. We must meet back on the ship in nine years and nine months. If we remain on this planet any longer, we will be sacrificing ourselves for no reason. Agreed?” Yatsema searched the faces for any hint of indecision, and he was pleased to see the faces looking back at him were filled with hope and anticipation as they nodded. The mates gathered their infants with determination, and traveled to their assigned locations.
It had been decided years ago which signs each artisan of the clan would leave for their children. The locations to which the Atlantian couples had been assigned contained the most advanced of the species of this world. They began the work that would take almost a decade to complete, but many years from now the natives would believe these works took centuries, and conclude that they had been constructed many years apart.
The children had been sequestered with kind families, and Mahana spoke with her son every day while the work was being completed. When the great stone beacon was finished, and it was time to leave or perish, she placed her small hands on his shoulders and looked into his liquid blue eyes. “You carry the hope of our people, Larinth.” She kissed his forehead and released him to the surrogate mother she had chosen.
The beautiful stone carvings of massive proportion were arranged in a circle, like an altar, in accordance with the angles and formation the artisans had calculated. Tears flowed down the peasants’ faces, as they watched the keepers of the towers walk down to the beach and across the surface of the water, until Mahana and Laryan could no longer be seen.
The pyramids were complete and in the lower level, far beneath the harsh rays of the sun and damaging dry climate, the sacred scrolls lay protected in their tubes. The dark Egyptians thought the authors of these great works, startlingly beautiful people with pale skin and luminous blue eyes, were gods, and they built shrines and statues of them. As the artisans left the great pyramid, they gazed back at the lights of the city one last time. “Be well, my child,” Alderian whispered, and then he took his mate’s hand as they walked across the desert sands and disappeared.
Half way around this world, frenzied sacrifices were being offered as the last of the Great Calendar was carved. The masons, their beautiful ivory skin contrasting with that of the exotic ebony tribe, silently walked south. The Mayans followed for months until they reached the base of a mountain. There, the masons smiled compassionately at them, yet told them to follow no further. The tribe waited at the bottom, their dark eyes watching the carvers as they traveled to the summit until they were out of sight. One brave warrior dared to climb to the top, and returned to tell his people the masons had vanished.
Years passed, and the legend of the artisans became distorted and blurred. The sacred scrolls from the pyramids were feared by the new rulers and considered dangerous works, filled with political and religious anarchy, and they were burned in Alexandria along with most of the teachings of the great philosophers who had struggled to learn from the artisans. One of the many wars broke out, and Alderian’s precious Atlantian gene was lost.
The masons’ Great Calendar remained undisturbed, for the most part. Many years after its completion, a deadly plague disbursed the panicked tribe in all directions after claiming the gene carried within Yatsema’s great, great grandson. Credited to the Mayans, the Great Calendar ended in the pre-destined year of the artisans’ visions, but no one was left to explain what was to happen. Wild stories of the end of days circulated among the natives of the planet as they watched the ancient calendar nearing the last of its etched symbols. Yatsema would have shaken his head in disdainful sadness at their ridiculous conclusions. The calendar simply ended when the clan was to return for their children.
The great stones of the beacon remained, weathered and worn by time and the elements. Stories of altars and sacrifices spread among the species as with each successive generation fewer people remembered the truth. It was dangerous to practice what little of the Old Religion the artisans had shared, and the believers were ostracized and condemned for their rituals. A wizened woman with knowledge of the stones traveled across the great ocean to the Americas, hoping to evade the inquisitors’ time in Europe. She was soon condemned as a witch, and killed. Her pale blonde daughter cried in her father’s arms. Laryan and Mahana’s gene had survived.
No one remembered the true story of the great artisans, and the legends became nothing but myths, fantasized and scorned. A popular rumor spread of an advanced people traveling to the planet, only to sink with the mythical land of Atlantis into unknown waters. It was easier, at the time, to believe the Atlantians sank into the ocean, along with their fictitious homeland, than to understand the incredible truth.
The great works of art, the signs so patiently designed by the artisans, remained. The pyramids in Egypt and South America, reminiscent structures of the crystal temples the Atlantians had loved on their home planet, the Great Calendar spanning thousands of years, marking their return, and the beacon of Stonehenge, where their children would be waiting, were all shrouded in mystery and half truths.
Like dominos on their fallen collision course, the teachings were lost and forgotten. The scrolls had not survived the politics of their discovery, the magical wizened folk with the knowledge of the beacon did not escape the killing times, and the Mayan tribe had been separated or killed by the conquerors’ plague. If the Atlantians had not misjudged their length of stay on the planet by the two days it had taken to birth the babies, they would not have continued to slowly decay when they returned to their ship. If just one of these events had not happened, the child would have known.
CHAPTER I
Miranda gazed around the clearing and sighed. The basket of apples in her arms smelled sweet, and she looked over at her small orchard silently blessing the trees for their fruit. The sound of a fish slapping the water in the pond at the edge of the woods caught her attention. Leaves decorated the trees in the colors of Samhain, the sabbat quickly approaching, and Miranda and Tempest still had ritual preparations to complete.
The weather was cool, but not too cold for this time of year, and she studied the orange and red leaves on the maple, reading their curls. November would be harsh this year, and Miranda made a mental note to bring the herbs inside. She smiled and thanked the goddess for Tempest’s insistence to grow them in pots instead of the garden. The rocker on the porch moved to the slight breeze as if to remind her, and she wandered over to it. I might as well get it over with. She sat down and closed her eyes.
Tempest always did her reflecting after Yule, making her resolutions on the traditional first day of the year, and cleansing herself for the new wheel. Miranda thought it was too depressing to think about her lonely past in the isolated coldness of December. Her grandmother had taught her the rituals, and since she was a child Miranda had done her reflecting before Samhain. She welcomed cleansing herself of the sad memories of her life so she could meet and bless her ancestors with a clear mind. Miranda missed her grandmother terribly. She was the only one who understood and could explain Miranda’s differences to her.
The wide planks creaked as she rocked on the porch of her little cabin in the woods that she had purchased with the money from the sale of her parents’ house and the insurance settlement after they were mugged and killed on a weekend trip celebrating their twentieth anniversary.
Miranda’s trances and premonitions had labeled her ‘weird’ since she was a child. Thank the stars for Tempest. The spiky haired girl had been her only friend in high school, when the first whispers of ‘witch’ followed her through the halls from the cheerleaders and chess geeks.
She remembered the day Tempest sat down in the empty chair next to her in the back of English class. The new student stared down at her desk with a resigned look on her face, and Miranda shrugged and returned her attention to the essay she was writing. She knew that before the last class was over, the girl would learn that Miranda was a freak, and she would choose a different seat the next day.
Miranda was suspicious the following afternoon when the new girl once again plopped down in the chair next to her. Miranda glanced sideways at her, and the dark haired girl grinned, her green eyes peaking out from under her shaggy bangs mischievously. “A witch, huh?”
Miranda prepared to defend herself, and answered calmly, “That’s what they tell me.”
“Any chance you can get this dipshit teacher to drop the Shakespeare and throw us some Poe?”
Miranda relaxed a little and stifled a laugh. “Shakespeare had his dark moments, too.”
Emerald eyes flashed with amusement. “I’m Tempest.” She held out her hand.
“I’m Miranda, welcome to Midpoint High.”
Tempest smirked. “Spoken like an admiring alumni…which you’re not.”
“True, I’m not,” Miranda agreed.
Tempest was a new age outcast from Arizona, and became her best and only friend. No one messed with Miranda when Tempest around, and she usually was. Over the next two years, Miranda told Tempest some of her secrets, and she was pleased when Tempest never asked her for proof. She believed her completely, and said she just wished she could gain Miranda’s focus to experience some of her own potential.
Tempest’s mother ignored them, and spent her time involved in a vague quest for her own truth. “I need to find myself, Tempest. I will never be whole until I do.” She would take off on strange weekend retreats, saying she was ‘searching for herself’.
Tempest used to laugh and say she might as well stop looking. “Cripes, Miranda, she can’t even find my father. I don’t think she even knows who he is.”
After two harsh West Virginia winters, the confused woman finally decided she would ‘find herself’ back in Arizona, and she told her daughter she was returning the day after Tempest graduated. She made no mention that Tempest would be accompanying her.
Miranda leaned on Tempest’s strength through the struggle of her parents’ funeral, and she accompanied her to the attorney’s office where Miranda signed documents making her their official and only heir at the age of eighteen years and three days.
When they had left his office, Tempest said, “I have an idea.”
“What kind of an idea?” Miranda asked with suspicion. She had suffered the backlash of a few of Tempest’s ‘ideas’ in the past.
“Mom can’t wait to head back to the desert, and our rent is due in two days. What if we tell her I can stay at your house, and she can take off?”
“Would she do that, just leave you like that?” Miranda was astonished by this suggestion.
“Hell yes. She’s been a great mom, but she’s already decided it ends at eighteen, and then she figures she gets her life back. I’m cool with it. I love her, but face it, Miranda, she was never cut out for the Mrs. Cleaver life.” Tempest looked expectantly at her friend.
“I guess that would be okay. I mean, it’s not like we will be throwing wild parties or having any guys over.” The two had accepted their isolated friendship years ago.
Tempest’s mother pounced on the offer, and never looked back. She did not write, there were no calls, and she did not give the girls her new address. Miranda and Tempest held a ritual wishing her well, but never tried to find her.
The girls graduated high school with no parents, family or friends to congratulate them, and a few days later Miranda had the attorney sell the big house with too many memories and she found her cabin in the woods.
Miranda pictured her broom sweeping the sadness from her thoughts, and she slowly opened her eyes knowing she would never think of those events again, or, at least, not with the despair those times had caused her in the past. She rose from the rocker and smiled out onto her orchard.
Tempest worked ten miles away in the small town at a nursery and studied botany at the junior college. Miranda made soap and candles to sell at a gift shop on Main Street. They were perfectly content with their quiet life.
Miranda only traveled to town once or twice a month to stock her display shelves and collect the money from sales. It was as she returned from one of these trips she saw a flyer on the window of the coffee shop announcing a pagan meeting the first Monday morning of the month, and Miranda discussed it with Tempest. She was lonely and she wanted to find others like her.
Tempest absently swirled the whipped cream into her cappuccino while Miranda studied the group. There was no sense of power from any of them, not even the little glimmer Tempest cast, but there was also no sense of animosity and that in itself was a relief. The group was an eclectic gathering of witches and new age believers, and the tall woman orchestrating the meeting invited the girls to a gathering in the woods to celebrate the full moon.
Miranda loved esbat rituals. The feeling of peace and renewing power charged her for the month, and she was excited at the prospect of a larger gathering honoring the goddess. The girls wandered out onto the glade and approached the bonfire and rough altar arranged on a large rock, waiting for the ritual to begin. Miranda noticed the woman who had invited them standing by the altar wearing a cape and ornamental jewelry, and someone whispered to Miranda that she was their coven’s priestess. The prospect of a teacher to finally guide her and help her understand her abilities was exciting. She scanned the priestess and was confused that she detected no power from the woman. She decided it must manifest during the ceremony.
As the Priestess began, Miranda tried to understand the calling of the elements and the repetitious words. The whole ritual made no sense to her, because she instinctively knew the gods and goddess were always present. It made her more than a little nervous when the woman in the cloak ‘summoned’ them, and Miranda could not bring herself to repeat the words to ‘summon’ the gods. She believed they would ‘summon’ her, if they needed to.
Words passed between the priestess and a young handsome man standing beside her, and the group repeated the words reverently, hands clutching athames pointed towards the moon. They seemed to be impassioned by the act, and Miranda looked at Tempest and shrugged her shoulders. Tempest whispered, “Maybe it depends on where you’re from. Let’s just do it the way we do at home.”
Miranda silently nodded in agreement and held Tempest’s hand. She lifted her other open palm towards the moon and silently blessed the goddess for Tempest’s friendship, their cabin in the woods, and their health. She praised her for her wisdom, and felt the familiar filling of light that traveled through her body and into Tempest by their joined hands. Her trance was so complete she never noticed the rest of the coven was quietly staring at her, with their gaping mouths hanging open. It was as if all the light cast from the moon had formed a single beam, and was shining on the strange new girl’s hand.
When Miranda came out of her trance, the group gathered excitedly around her asking questions. Miranda was overwhelmed, and Tempest, as usual, took control. “Back off a little, will you? She needs a little time to ground herself.”
The angry priestess realized her leadership with the coven was in jeopardy, and she narrowed her eyes. “We must give thanks to the goddess for allowing the power of our ritual to manifest within the new believer.”
Several from the group had been joining the rituals in the glade for years, and they had never witnessed anything like what had happened to Miranda. Their questioning eyes glanced in confusion at the priestess.
When Miranda had grounded, she felt the unmistakable hostility thrown from the priestess towards her. The woman’s robe shifted in the slight breeze. “Thank you for joining our full moon ritual honoring the goddess.” In a regal ‘do-not-mess-with-me’ voice she continued, “Your ways are that of a solitary, and I am afraid you draw from the power of our group to support them.”
Miranda looked the fanatical priestess in the eye. “I understand,” she replied calmly. “Thank you for the opportunity to share this ceremony with you.” She took Tempest’s hand and left the glade, obviously dismissed from further contact with the group.
Tempest muttered quietly, “What a bitch!”
“It has been a struggle for her to keep the group together, and I think she sees me as a threat,” Miranda sighed in disappointment. “They do worship in their own way, and believe in the wisdom and balance of nature. I guess that’s the important thing.” The sadness in Miranda’s voice was clear as she discovered she was even an outcast with these people.
The next time Miranda was in town stocking her displays, the handsome man from the pagan group caught up with her as she walked back towards her car. “Miranda? That’s right, isn’t it?”
Miranda turned and looked up at him. His blonde curls flopped in disarray around his face, giving him an even more youthful appearance. “Yes, I remember you from the glade.”
Johnny invited her to have coffee. Miranda had never had a real date before, and she nervously swirled cream into the dark beverage until she read the signs in the design on the surface, and then she calmed.
Over the next week, Johnny began to show up at their cabin frequently. His one annoying habit was to badger Miranda with questions about her abilities. Something told her to be evasive, and Tempest agreed it would be better not to divulge too many secrets.
The weekend approached, and Tempest told Miranda she would be staying in town with a man from work that she had been dating. “Why don’t you invite Johnny to stay over? I know you’re lonely, and he seems like a nice enough guy. At least he doesn’t freak out around you.”
Tempest had managed a few short trysts since high school, but shrugged off anyone who either tried to get too close or avoided Miranda. Her relationships lasted a matter of weeks, not months or years, and she always explained they just were not what she was looking for. She was adamant that she would know ‘Mr. Right’ when he came along.
Naturally, Miranda had thought about sex. She was almost nineteen and had never even been kissed. Of course, she really never had the opportunity, because by high school most of the kids walked on the other side of the hall to avoid the strange girl.
It certainly was not her looks. As wild as Tempest was with her dark pixie spikes and emerald eyes, Miranda was the complete opposite, with an almost ethereal beauty. Her golden hair shimmered down her back like a cape, and her eyes seemed like reflective pools of crystal blue water. Her pale skin never burned or tanned, and Miranda thought it was just another oddity she possessed.
She meditated by the pond and decided it was time, and as if to confirm her decision she felt an unfamiliar stirring of anticipation. Miranda made a stew with vegetables from the garden and a large loaf of herb crusted bread while she waited for Johnny to arrive with a bottle of red wine. After dinner, they sat in front of the fire and she could sense that he was nervous, too. It was becoming apparent he was a little afraid of her, and Miranda panicked as depression began to take hold that she would be cast out once again.
Miranda finally broke the awkward silence and said softly. “I’ve never done this before, Johnny. I wish I did not make you feel so uncomfortable.” She looked down in her lap and twirled a golden strand of her hair around her finger. “It’s been this way for me with every guy I’ve ever met. No one has ever come as close to me as you have.”
Johnny put his arm around her, and pulled her head onto his chest while he trailed his fingers down her side. “I’m not uncomfortable, Miranda. I’m in awe of you,” he admitted. “You know that. I’ve believed in the path for many years, but you are the first one I’ve met who actually had powers.”
Miranda sighed. “To me, it’s never been about power. It’s about balance and trying to help nature offset the damage we’re doing. I know I’m different, and all of my life people have avoided me.” She studied the flames in the fireplace. “Sometimes I wish I had the confidence of your priestess.”
“She’s not my priestess,” Johnny scoffed. “I was left a hefty sum of money, and I’ve spent my time traveling trying to find someone like you. I am so glad to have met you. I know this is real.”
He lifted her chin, and for the first time, Miranda felt the warmth of a man’s lips against hers. At least, at first it was warm. By the time his tongue had slipped past her lips, she felt fire in her womb and her nipples were erect and throbbing. An unexpected rush of energy passed through her, and her nails dug into his shoulders as she pulled him closer, plunging her tongue into his mouth.
“Whoa, slow down a little,” he gasped. He was trying to be gentle with her, and found a wildcat in his arms. She quickly pulled his shirt over his head and ran her fingers along his slender chest. When he brushed her nipple through her sweater, she crushed herself closer to him.
She hastily threw off her clothes and dragged him down onto the rug in front of the fire. Johnny’s own responses were becoming heightened, and he quickly kicked off his jeans as she fisted her hand in his hair, pulling his mouth against hers again.
His hand traveled slowly towards her breast. A part of him was still trying to be gentle, to make the act meaningful for her, but it was becoming difficult with all her grabbing and clasping. “Easy Miranda, let’s slow down.”
Miranda groaned and pulled him closer. She had no idea what was happening to her. Her body was in control and not listening to the embarrassing warnings of her mind, because her Atlantian heritage demanded the throbbing pulse between her legs had to be satisfied.
In one last futile effort to prepare her, Johnny’s finger slipped along her slit to find her drenched with juices and more than ready. A finger brushed her clit and she bucked wildly as she pulled him on top of her. Her hand fumbled quickly for his shaft, and she had no time to recognize its velvet smoothness before she centered it in front of her channel, wrapped her legs around him, and drew him inside.
Johnny found himself holding on for dear life. Her hands were everywhere, pawing through his hair and clawing down his back drawing rivulets of blood, while her pussy was clenched so tightly around him, he had difficulty providing any movement for the friction he needed. When he tried to draw back, his cock stayed wedged inside her, causing him to stretch almost painfully instead of slide. Virgin, my ass, he thought.
That nasty thought broke through Miranda’s senses as she climaxed. She experienced a brief flash of a vision of a large man with long wild dark hair, as her channel squeezed Johnny in a vise tight grip and he swore as his seed spilled into her. She fell back in exhaustion and he rolled silently off her. His penis was shriveled and was bruising with pain, as blood from her clawing trickled down his back. Johnny quickly gathered his clothes and dressed. He ran from the cabin, and Miranda never heard from him again.
Tempest tried to talk to her about it. She had no idea why Johnny had mysteriously disappeared, and mistakenly thought they had had a fight. Miranda finally broke down and told Tempest about the incident, and asked, “Is that what it’s like?”
Tempest certainly did not remember it being like that her first time, or any other time for that matter. “Maybe this power you have has something to do with it?”
Miranda meditated, and decided that even making love would be denied to her. She wondered why she had been saddled with the abilities that sometimes seemed to be more of a curse. She also wondered why, since the vision with Johnny, her dreams were filled with the big, dark haired man.
Over the years, Tempest’s outgoing nature had her dating often. The short relationships never seemed to be satisfying, and the liaisons always ended. Miranda made it clear that she was more comfortable alone, and Tempest stopped trying to set her up on dates.
Tempest received her degree and opened a flower shop where she also sold their garden herbs, and Miranda kept a second display of her handmade soaps and candles. Miranda’s crafting business had built a good reputation, as once again whispers of ‘witch’ began to follow her. It seemed to make her crafts more valuable, and her sales were modest but consistent. The two young women, not yet twenty-four, were financially comfortable.
For all the years she had spent watching and learning from Miranda, Tempest had never experienced her own gift of magic, if she had one. Yet, something drew her to the young woman, and since the first time they had met in high school, Tempest had the undeniable knowledge that she was supposed to protect her somehow.
Miranda was delivering Yule candles and soap to the gift shop next to the post office, and at the chiming of the bell over the door she turned to see a man with long white hair and a flowing black cloak lined in sapphire blue enter. Another wizard, Miranda thought, and dismissed him.
The man stood by the door scanning the store until his eyes focused on Miranda. Her back was to him as he approached her. “Do you make that yourself?”
She turned to face him and prepared to describe her crafts, but as soon as she gazed into his steely eyes, she felt herself fall into a trance. His eyes were like mirrors of swirling, fathomless emotion, and looking into them made her believe the man was older than time. There was an immense sense of kindness emanating from his aura, and Miranda found herself anticipating something from him.
He brushed his hand gently across her forehead and smiled. “He will be so pleased.”
Miranda tried to shake herself out of the trance and ask him what he meant, but as she came back to awareness the strange man was gone. As the moments passed by, she found she could not recall what he looked like, and his words drifted away, leaving Miranda with no recollection of anything other than placing her soap on display. She shrugged her shoulders and completed the task.
She was walking back to her car to drive home when her mind seemed to go blank again, and she made her way into Elton Beiman’s office. He was the only attorney in town, but even so she had no problem being ushered in to see him. Within an hour, she had transferred the deed to the cabin and land to Tempest and put her on all her financial accounts as joint owner. Miranda thanked Elton and drove home.
When Tempest asked her how her day had gone, she mentioned stocking her display and collecting two hundred dollars in sales, and the girls celebrated. Miranda did not remember doing anything else.
Three days later, Tempest awoke to find Miranda gone. At first, she was confused and she searched everywhere for her. When she discovered Miranda had transferred all her assets to her, Tempest dropped into a deep depression, reluctantly deciding her friend had gone in search of the grandmother who disappeared two decades ago. She prayed to the goddess she would be safe and return one day.
CHAPTER II
“This is unheard of, Ethram. Do we know her heritage?”
Ethram hung his cloak and ran his fingers through his shoulder length white hair. “I am sure she is an Ancient, but I think she is unaware of it. It is good she will belong to Zulien. She is going to need a warrior to protect her. She is completely innocent of her ancestry. We will try to discover her lineage when we bring her in.”
“When will that be?” Ballion was pacing with excitement. He had been with Ethram as a student since he began his studies for his own procurement vessel some day. He had never secured or even seen an Ancient.
Ethram sat on a chair on the bridge. “I have some preparations to make.” He tented his slender fingers under his chin. “This is a delicate matter, Ballion. She has been raised for centuries by barbarians and primitives.” Ethram’s nose wrinkled with distaste as he thought of his visit to the outer world. “They have destroyed their planet, and it will be swallowed very soon.”
Ballion gasped in alarm. “Then, we must act now to procure her. Zulien has waited beyond his time for her, and if she is absorbed with the planet he will be devastated.”
“We have to be careful, Ballion. The outer worlds do not even know of our existence. I have no idea how she ended up on this planet, but her lineage has me curious. I sense great power within her, and this is why I choose to act with caution. We are not telling Zulien until she has been secured.”
“How did you know to come here? No mates have ever been discovered on the outer worlds.” Ballion had been almost frantic since Ethram informed him they were leaving the relative safety of the inner worlds.
Ethram leaned back in his chair and sighed. “When I was training with my grandfather, he told me a story of finding a derelict ship at the very edge of the inner worlds. He thought it was abandoned. All on board were decayed with the exception of one Ancient male.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I do not remember the specifics, or even who the race was for that matter.” Ethram’s voice dropped to almost a whisper, as though he was divulging a secret. “The Ancient told him they had placed their last genes in the outer worlds.”
Ethram looked at Ballion as if searching for understanding. “You and I were so close when we procured from Prameton, I thought it was worth the chance. We have been honored with the mission to find the mates, and every one is precious. If there was even a remote possibility...” Ethram left the statement unfinished. He was still overcome with emotion at his discovery.
Ballion listened attentively. His teacher, the Commander of Isotant, was unparalleled in success. Ballion remembered standing before the Imperial Magistrates and learning he was to be Ethram’s apprentice. Ethram’s request came at a price. It was a two edged sword, because Ethram’s mate was discovered decayed on a small planet already scanned and rarely visited. He would have no son of his own to carry on his work, and thus he issued the request to the Magistrates for an apprentice. Perhaps, his own experience was why the old man filled with emotion and drove himself to extremes to secure every destined mate.
A procurement chamber was prepared for the young woman containing the sparse furnishings for her temporary sleep, along with comforting scents and sounds of her planet. He made sure he plugged Zulien’s genetic sexual profile into the enhancers. The Commander continued to search the knowledge banks for information about her, and after exhausting all known data sources concerning the Ancients, he finally admitted he needed her on board to study her further. “Ballion, it is time.”
“Her compartment is ready. Shall I collect her?” the green Minoc asked hopefully.
Ethram stood. “She is to be the mate of a primary warrior.” He adjusted his cloak. “I must collect her myself.” Ethram noted the slightly dejected lowering of Ballion’s shoulders. “I leave you with the important duty of guarding the ship and the other three mates on board.”
I am to be trusted with three of the precious procurements? Ballion’s chest puffed out, dark ribs etching his scaled skin with pride, and the green antennae protruding from his forehead stroked across his chin, displaying his obvious pleasure at the trust Ethram had bestowed upon him.
Ethram noted Ballion’s reaction and decided to prolong the moment. “Are you prepared for this responsibility? Do you have any questions?” Ethram had no doubts. He knew Ballion was as impassioned with their commitment as any student he had ever met.
Ballion’s antennae made an embarrassing frenzied motion across his chin as he fairly burst with emotion. “I have no questions, Commander. I will care for the ship and our precious cargo, and await your return.”
Collecting mates was a lonely trade. It was, perhaps, one of the highest honors, but ships could travel many, many years and come back with the news of no found mates, or worse. There were mates who had not been discovered in time, such as Ethram’s, leaving their other half to settle for centuries of lonely emptiness, or never feeling complete by settling for a mating of convenience with another who had no true mate to procure. Every mate secured was the highest of rewards, and resulted in a hefty boon financially and earned promotions.
Ethram stroked a comforting thumb along Ballion’s quivering antennae, and then dissolved with a sweep of his cloaked arm. Having scented the woman, he found himself in a small wooden structure in the woods. He smiled at her sleeping friend. “You have brought much comfort to this Ancient. May your remaining days be filled with the same.” He gently lifted Miranda’s small form and issued a feeling of peace, and she shuddered slightly as she curled into his chest.
For all Ballion’s pride and emotion, Ethram was gone less than ten minutes in Earth world time, and he returned with one of the most unique creatures Ballion had ever seen in his arms. Her hair, spilling half way to the floor in shimmering waves, was the color of the suns, and her pale skin was the color of the moons. “She is of Celestial lineage,” he said in awe.
“I also see the signs of this.” Ethram gazed down at the little Ancient. “So many of those worlds have been swallowed. It will be a challenge of great magnitude to find which of them she was from.”
“Zulien has been honored.” Ballion bowed his head in respect.
Ethram glanced again at his procurement. “Have you read his sexual profile? Zulien will rip her apart if we do not prepare her. See how fragile she is? I trust our gods with their decision, but to mate such a small woman with a warrior?” He shook his head, bewildered.
Not to be distracted from practicality, Ballion reminded Ethram, “The boon on her will be high. We may get recognition from the warrior as well.”
Ethram smiled. Yes, the rewards for this Ancient would be large. She was worth more than the other three procurements tallied together. “Locate Commander Zulien while I secure her, but tell him nothing.”
“Yes, Commander.” Ballion began searching star charts for the location of Zulien’s battleship, the Quillant.
Ethram laid Miranda on the pallet in the sleeping chamber. Here, she would sleep and dream undisturbed in her suspended state, while her genetic sexual profile was enhanced to meet her mate’s needs.
The Procurer removed her clothes and brushed his thumb across her forehead when she quivered, relaxing her into deep sleep. He placed the enhancers on either side of her head and attached probes to her nipples and clit, and he inserted the vaginal wand. He noticed with interest that even in deep sleep she lubricated pleasurably, and she pulsed her walls against the wand as the enhancers fused the warrior’s sexual genetic profile to her. At least she will sleep in comfort until Zulien arrives to claim her. Ethram turned once before leaving the chamber, and he studied the beautiful creature. “Lucky dremont,” he muttered, and closed the door.
When he returned to the bridge, Ballion proclaimed, “The stars are with us. The Quillant is in Stanquest Three. We are just within communication distance and our ships can rendezvous in two days.”
Ethram confirmed Ballion’s information, though he was still nervous about turning over the fragile Ancient to the warrior. Reluctantly, he decided this was the gods’ business and the decided mating was not his responsibility. “Get him on screen.” Ethram’s fingers strummed the arm of his chair. Warriors always made him anxious, because they were ruthless strategists and somewhat explosive in nature. Ethram had once met Commander Zulien on planet, and he knew he had a good reputation. Still, he was a warrior, and Ethram hoped he would be good to the little Ancient.
While the ship was contacted, Miranda lay on the pallet feeling like she was floating in darkness until she eventually settled on something soft. She was so weary, but the sounds of a rippling brook and a breeze through the trees could not calm her. She was frightened as she lay alone in this dark void, and she wondered if she had died and how to find her way out of the pit to the goddesses’ realm of the Summerlands.
She felt pinched feelings on her nipples and sensitive bead, and a soft cool bar was inserted in her channel. In her mind, she whimpered in fear until her thoughts began to fill with the man of her visions. His strong golden hands caressed her, and he murmured assurances as impulses traveled through the probes and wand arousing her.
Miranda felt the desire and passion building to frightening aspects, and she was frustrated to be limited to merely the squeezing of her core to satisfy her need to thrust. She felt as though she was being held on the edge of the precipice of release, and struggled against the trance that was denying her.
After an eternity, a strong hand brushed across her forehead. “I will come to you, my little Ancient,” a deep voice echoed. She reached out into the blackness, blindly searching for comfort. Sobs wracked through her as she continued to lubricate and throb in frustration, and she realized she was once again alone. Perhaps it was most frightening because she knew it was all in her mind.
The Quillant had finished securing the planet Fleighten after small skirmish had erupted concerning land boundaries, and they returned to space, scanning the planets for their next mission.
Zulien lay back against the headboard of his heavy wooden bed, waiting for the Parina to arrive. With three unmated warriors on board, they were allocated one of the unique androids to relieve their sexual urges every third night.
These androids had been designed with a long split tongue, and tiny suckers gripped and released as their sensors ordered. Full breasts were tipped with nipples that stood alarmingly stiff when suckled, and their clean-shaven mound excreted a sweet musk when stroked or licked. The Parina would gasp, moan or coo appreciatively, and her arms would hold and comfort while her lips continued to whisper and kiss.
Zulien despised them. No, it was more than that. He despised the need for them. Warriors were a lusty bunch, their cocks stiffening with little provocation… and the cocks needed to be satisfied and milked, or rational judgment of the burly men was jeopardized. No one needed the Commander of a battleship fighting in the midst of sexual frustration.
As with any man, Zulien yearned for his mate, the one woman in creation with a gene matched to his. Over the centuries, he watched his crews' mates board the craft, and he waited for the day a procurement ship would contact the Quillant to announce his own mate had been secured.
It had been a century since a procurement vessel had hailed them, and the three remaining warriors were reluctantly admitting their mates had most probably decayed. The thought ripped at Zulien's heart, and he could not quite let go of a tiny bit of hope she was still out there, longing to be wrapped in his protective arms.
The door to his quarters opened, and the Parina entered his chamber. "Commander," she said in her low, overly seductive voice. Zulien would not let her call him by his name because it seemed too personal. He waved her in.
She pulled her shift over her head and swayed her hips with exaggerated movements as she approached him. He rarely spoke to her. It was not her animated words of comfort or desire he wanted to hear. She merely knew how to please him, and she used her red mannequin-like arms to spread his thighs.
"Oooh, Commander." She trailed a slender finger down his length and lightly squeezed his sack. Her eyes blinked rapidly as the data was digested for the next appropriate response. "I see you have great need for me. My tongue salivates over the thought of your..."
"Voice off, dammit." Zulien wanted to grab her by her white hair and rip the speaker from her throat. She was nothing more than a masturbation toy. He lay back again, and her tongue stroked his length, splitting to coat both sides with its suckers as he closed his eyes.
The slow pumping of her head finally relaxed him, and he let himself get swept up in her rhythm. He wondered if, when he finally spilled his seed deep down the Parina’s throat, he would again have the vision of the tiny goddess lost in the darkness and searching for him. It had happened the last three times.
He had meant to communicate with his mother about this, because she might be able to decipher the meaning of these visions. Things on the ship had been hectic though, and he kept putting off the call. Zulien began squeezing his muscled ass as he thrust his cock deeper down the Parina’s throat. Soon he would cum, and, vision or not, he could send the horrid machine back to its closet.
Her fingers tightened around his balls and a finger traveled the sensitive skin between his sack and anus. His sperm left him in violent spurts as he once again saw his goddess, and this time she was sobbing with fright.
Zulien ordered the Parina to leave, and he dressed to go back to the bridge. He decided to let Taliquant have her for the rest of the night, if he desired. When he arrived on deck, Lieutenant Letang was leaning towards the communicator screen. “Who calls Battleship Quillant and for what purpose?”
“This is Commander Ethram of the procurement ship, Isotant. I wish to speak with Commander Zulien.”
Communicator wristbands spread the news quickly through the battleship that a procurement vessel had signaled, and crew and mates rushed to the bridge. It was possible, though unlikely, they were seeking transport for a mate. More likely, was the possibility that someone on the Quillant was about to learn of their mate’s discovery. Of the nine warriors on board six were mated, and these were very good statistics for a regiment. So good, in fact, that the three unmated warriors had begun to give up hope many, many years ago.
Two of them were planning to mate with unattached females. These matings usually culminated in frustration, as even with enhancers the female would not totally accept a substitute partner’s sexual profile. This was especially true for the domineering warriors who required a truly submissive partner.
Berslan was to join with a member of royalty whose true mate had been murdered for political reasons. It was quietly discussed among the crew that he was mating for ambition, because a royal would never subject herself to satisfy a warrior’s needs.
Taliquant was deciding between two warriors’ widows, and everyone was in agreement that his joining might stand a chance. He would never experience the fulfillment of claiming his true mate, but at least a female destined to be with a warrior would understand a warrior’s demands.
Zulien sometimes quelled his sexual frustrations with a serving girl when he was on planet, but he remained promised to no one. Resigned that his mate was most probably decayed, he decided he would not distract himself with the frustration of a substitute.
The Parina serviced all three of the unmated warriors. Her data banks contained their genetic sexual profiles, and her sole function was to provide climatic release for the men.
When he was young, Zulien had asked his mother how he would know his mate, and she closed her eyes to raise her golden head towards the northern stars. A few minutes later, she looked at her son and relayed her vision. “She will be your suns and your moons,” she smiled. Living in space, Zulien had never noticed the phenomenon, but trusted his mother’s vision and had remained unattached.
Zulien switched on his screen. If the mate was for Berslan, it could be messy trying to disentangle himself from his fiancée, but if she was for Taliquant, things would be much less complicated, and he swore an oath under his breath that the mate would enrich Taliquant. The battleship had been through some rough conflicts lately.
“This is Commander Zulien, I understand you have news?”
Ethram eyed Zulien cautiously. His long dark hair fell well below his broad bronzed shoulders and his black leather vest was tight across his muscled chest. For the first time in his many centuries of procurement, Ethram felt unease at revealing his prize. “Yes, Commander. We have procured a warrior’s mate from the outer worlds.” Ethram wanted to make sure Zulien understood the extra effort on his part to procure the young woman. Warriors could be generous.
“I did not realize procurement ships searched the outer worlds,” Zulien replied, with a hint of suspicion.
“As usual course, we do not, Commander, but I had previous information concerning this mate." Ethram was slightly irritated the warrior would question his motives.
Zulien sat back in his chair. “I see. Tell me, Commander, which of our warriors have benefited from your efforts?”
Ethram smiled. “You, Commander. It is your mate we have procured.”
Zulien was speechless. It had not crossed his mind to hope it would be his mate. The gathering warriors stood in shocked silence. Seartock regained his senses first and recognized his Commander’s stunned reaction, remembering his own emotion when his precious Ebonisha was located. He spoke up, ignoring formalities. “You have located Commander Zulien’s mate?” They needed this news confirmed.
“Yes, Captain, and we would like to arrange a rendezvous. We are within two days of your present location.”
The Lieutenant spoke up. “We have locked onto your position, Commander Ethram.”
Zulien’s shock finally abated somewhat. Most warriors were mated with the Amarzonians, a large elegant woman for the formidable warriors. What would an Amarzonian be doing on an outer world? He finally composed himself enough to find his voice. “Might I ask what lineage she hails from?”
Ethram looked into the warrior’s eyes and waited until he was sure he had his full attention. “She is a Celestial, a true Ancient, Commander, and with so many of their worlds swallowed long ago, I am still searching her heritage.”
Zulien was bewildered, as he glanced at the other warriors’ faces, and those of their Amarzonian mates who had joined them on the bridge when the news of the procurement vessel’s hailing quickly circulated. Celestials were always petite, even the males from what he had studied. Ethram saw the confusion in Zulien’s face and smiled with relief at the warrior’s concern. “There is no mistake, Zulien. She is your mate. Perhaps, it is because she will require your protection.”
Zulien thought about that for a moment. “Commander, thank you for the extreme sacrifice of traveling to the outer worlds. I look forward to claiming…” He was still rattled by the news.
“Miranda, Commander,” Ethram said softly. “She has been named Miranda.”
“Miranda.” The name rolled off Zulien’s lips as if it was the first word, the only word, he had ever spoken.
The communication line was silenced. The warriors and their mates crowding the bridge quietly digested the news that a Celestial, an Ancient, would be joining their group. It was Taliquant who finally spoke up. “Commander,” he cleared his tight throat, “Zule, I am so pleased for you, sir.”
Zulien could hardly contain his feelings. “Thank you, Tali.” He belatedly realized how badly his friend had hoped the mate was his own. “I guess this proves the gods do not want us to give up hope.”
Berslan shuffled his feet in agitation. “Commander, I feel it in my soul that my mate has decayed.”
“Berslan, this is every man’s decision, and no one here faults your path or your judgment.”
“Thank you, sir. I know my course is true.”
The warriors and their mates retreated to the lounge for a celebratory toast. The mates were excited with the news another female would be joining their ranks, and everyone planned to research the archives on Celestials. None of them had ever met an Ancient before, and they wanted their Commander’s mate to feel welcomed. Taliquant, second in command, realized Zulien would be distracted, and decided to ensure the ship maintained on alert with such a valuable mate soon to board.
Zulien had a queasy, light feeling from his stomach to his groin. His mother had some knowledge of the Ancient ways. She practiced what was remembered of the lost Old Religion, and was one of few who could manage visions. He decided he needed her advice. How in the worlds am I supposed to mate with an Ancient?