~~~two weeks later~~~
Daryl sat on the uncomfortable bio-bed in room ML4 of the Med-Lab, simultaneously fighting off a wave of nervousness and a slight bout of nausea. After what seemed to be an eternity to the young hermaphrodite, his ex-Barrack-mate and friend, Mike walked back in. The E.M.T. turned Doctors Assistant/Nurse was carrying a portable L.T.D. screen data pad and was grinning widely.
"Well Daryl, all of the results for your tests have come back in."
Looking up at his friend, Daryl figured that the news was good. Mike wouldn't be cheerful otherwise. But if the tests came back fine, why did he feel so bad?
"Okay man. What did they say? Why did I throw up breakfast three days in a row?"
Daryl watched Mikes smile grow even bigger.
"Don't worry Daryl, you're not sick. You're pregnant."
Daryl Banks-Lee just stared, slack jawed, at his friend. Panic and relief warred within him. The relief was because he had known for the last seven months or so that the Prantellian overlords expected him to conceive, and now the nervous wait and fear of forced mating was over. The panic, however, was due to the fact that down deep, Daryl wasn't sure he was ready to be a parent.
On the lighter side, his husband would be thrilled.
~~~{~~@
Responding to the urgent summons, Blair walked into the office of the compounds Stragillon Commander. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim lights, but when the spots cleared, he saw the Commanders secretary waving him over. Trying not to appear too nervous, Blair made his way swiftly over to the large desk.
The insectoid creature simply held up a scanner and Blair stretched out his arm so that the data chip implanted under the skin on his hand could be accessed. The data display screen blinked to life and all of Blair's official records scrolled up for easy viewing. The secretary read over them with amazing speed.
Unlike the medical scanners at the Med-Lab that only pulled up his basic information, minor skills list and his complete medical records, this scanner pulled up everything. It was all there, in great detail, ready to read if you knew how to move through the systems. Glancing quickly at the records moving rapidly across the screen, Blair didn't know if he should be impressed with all the things that he had accomplished since his capture, or be repulsed that every move he made had been noted by the Prantellians.
Suddenly, the Stragillon guard looked up at him and flashed him that race's version of a 'smile'. It wasn't pleasant to look at, but Blair recognized it as a 'friendly' expression.
"Terran number 32245-L-51-X28, born Blair Jacob Sandburg of Earth, religious title: Shaman. I will make note in your records that you appeared for your appointment on your own, without force, threat, or punishment."
Blair nodded. That was expected. For every scheduled appointment, they recorded exactly how you made it there. Some slaves only went to appointments by being dragged there on a leash while the fought like demons to get free. Those slaves usually ended up on a mining planet. Life expectancy on the mining colonies was pitifully short. Usually around two seasons. Blair had no desire to die from digging radio-active rocks on an atmosphere deprived planetoid. Farming and raising vegetables was way better in his humble opinion. A noise from the guard pulled his attention back.
"Congratulations on your first youngling incubation, Shaman. I see that Terran number 89566-P-37-K62 is listed as the sire."
Blairs hand automatically strayed down to rub at his slowly expanding waistline. Even the Stragillon's odd expression for pregnancy couldn't stop the blinding smile from crossing his face.
"Yes. Thank you."
Blair was about to ask the guard where he was expected to go when a buzzer sounded on the desk and the clicking, whirling language that was native Stragillon came across loud and clear. Blair couldn't understand a single word of it.
The secretary listened and then answered with a short double click and a soft shrill whistle. More Stragillon sounded over the intercom briefly before it turned off.
The secretary stood up and motioned Blair to proceed him through an air-lock style door that led to a long carpeted hallway beyond. They followed the hallway to another air-lock door. Walking inside, Blair found himself in the Prantellian version of an elevator. While he'd never admit it to anyone but Jim, Blair hated those as much as Terran elevators even though it had been years since the 'Galileo Incident'.
Finally, after fighting off a minor bout of vertigo, the doors opened up once again and Blair stepped out into another hallway. The Stragillon guard pointed to the left and motioned for Blair to proceed. They stopped outside of the most highly ornate doors on the compound. It was the office of the Stragillon Commander itself. Blair found himself very nervous.
The secretary pushed a discreet button and a chime sounded somewhere. On cue, the air-lock doors whooshed open and Blair was quickly ushered inside.
Opulence faced him from every corner and for one brief second, he was reminded of the office of Dean at Rainier University,... or perhaps the offices of the Mayor of Cascade. Then, the illusion faded as his mind cataloged all of the Prantellian technology and the alien artifacts.
The effect all of this had on him was interesting and one small detached part of his mind made note of it. He seemed to want to be three different people and have three different reactions to all this at the same time. The anthropologist in him wanted to study everything in the room, the tough Major Crimes Detective in him wanted to play it cool and mean, and the hermaphrodite slave in him wanted to just get out of here without any danger to the unborn child he carried under his heart.
Undecided on how he should act, Blair just stood quietly and looked around, waiting for the Commander to notice him. It didn't take long.
"Terran number 32245-L-51-X28, you have been accorded the religious rank of Shaman and as such, you will have certain duties laid upon you. If, for any reason, you can not fulfill these duties, I need to be notified so that arrangements can be made.
As Shaman, you will be responsible for all mating ceremonies between your people. I know that there have been a few already and that more are scheduled. You will also perform any other rituals your people require to ensure the proper raising of the younglings that will soon be born here.
That leads me to the main part of your duties as Shaman. You have noticed the building being erected across the way? Well, that is to be the Terran Cultural Center and Education Building. It will be the location of your rituals and where the younglings shall be educated and cared for while the parents work the fields.
The building is scheduled to be completed within another month. Once it is finished, you will be responsible for making sure the main hall is ready for any and all ceremonies as well as making sure that the areas set aside for the expected influx of Terran younglings will be set up with everything needed.
The records regarding the care and education of younglings that was captured from the Terran homeworld of Earth will be forwarded here so that you can get better prepared. If there is any special equipment or rations that will be needed, just see the secretary who escorted you up here for the proper requisition form.
Oh, I will also need you to put in a request two local days before you perform any Terran religious rituals. Just type it into a L.T.D. data pad. All I will need to know is the nature of the ritual along with any explanations of what will happen as well as the reason for the ritual, the Terran numbers and birth names of all participants and the Prantellian Standard Date that you wish to hold it on."
Blair blinked and nodded rapidly along with the clipped striations of the orders he was being given. It was a lot to take in at once, especially when it was barked at him in the Stragillon version of the Prantellian language. The Commander gave him the insectoid equivalent of a raised eyebrow expression of questioning.
"Terran number 32245-L-51-X28, do you understand your duties and responsibilities?"
"Y,... yes. Yes, I do."
"Good. You will be notified as soon as the Terran Cultural Center and Education Building is ready for you. Dismissed."
Blair stood there stunned for a brief moment, before he turned and scurried out of the lushly appointed office. He didn't even have time to catch his breath before the Commanders secretary hurried him back down the hall towards the elevators. Blairs mind was whirling way too fast for him to care about the abrupt treatment however. He had lots of planning to do.
~~~{~~@
Simon grinned at Henri Brown's retreating back. The man had not lost his touch as an ace Detective in all the years since the invasion, Simon had to give him that. Henri had just delivered him the final piece to the puzzle, the last clue to the mystery. Simon now knew who his suspect was in the Case of the Secret Admirer.
Todd Stevens.
Todd Stevens had been a highschool English teacher as well as a community Little League Baseball Coach. Here on the slave compound, he was a field hand like Blair had been before being made the official Shaman.
He was a friendly man who was renown for telling stories, both from his days as a teacher and from the many books he had read. He was also the man who usually organized the weekly softball games that many of the men, himself included, enjoyed playing. In fact, the games he organized had become so popular, that the guards would let you play them the one day a week that they were held as a sort of reward for good behavior and a job well done.
Yeah, Todd was a good man with a swift mind and a generous and fun loving spirit. Just the kind of guy would enjoy such an enticing game of cat and mouse. Well, now the cat new where the mouse lived and he was on the hunt.
Self-satisfied smirk firmly in place, Simon went off to hunt down his little mouse. Todd wasn't going to know what hit him...
~~~{~~@
Jim had just left Henri Brown moments before. His long time friend and one time co-worker had filled him in on the juicy details of Simons mystery date. After a few minutes of good natured joking and elbowing each others ribs, the two men decided that the best course of action was to spy on their former Captain.
With that in mind, Henri had slipped off to find Brian first, so that he could also enjoy the show. Jim knew that his own lover was in some meeting with the Doctor about what type of special equipment the new Terran Cultural Center should have installed while waiting for all the infants that were going to be born soon. So that meant that Blair would not be able to help spy on Simon.
Scouting out the territory on his solitary covert mission, Jim made a strange 'static-hiss' sound with his hand cupped over his mouth and pretended to relay information to 'Base Command'. He was sure that anyone who overheard him would think he had finally snapped, but he was in too fine and playful a mood to care.
"static-hiss-beep Panther One to Base Command. Come in Base Command. Over."
Turning his head and speaking out of the corner of his mouth in a squeaky voice, Jim answered himself.
"Panther One, this is Base Command. What's your position? Over."
"static-hiss-hiss-beep Panther One here, Base Command. I'm outside of the grain storage facility. Over."
"Panther One, go into Stealth Mode and move into position by Terran Barrack 5224-H. Over."
"static-beep Copy that Base Command. Going to Stealth Mode. Panther One out."
Mightily suppressing a giggle, Jim made his way over to the Barrack where Todd Stevens lived. He went to great pains to make sure that no one, Terran or Stragillon saw or heard him. Jim had a blast. Many of his new friends here and all of his old friends from back home on Earth new that he played this `game' with himself a lot. They knew it was something he did to help him keep up his skills learned in the Rangers. Only Blair knew that he was so silly about it or that he got such a kick out of it.
After a while, lots of people had gotten in on it. They all told each other that it was to keep them sharp, just in case they ever got the opportunity to use those skills to escape. Somehow, it had devolved along the way into an elaborate game of Gotcha. Someone would be the target and someone would be the operative. The assignments were drawn at random. The operative would then have to hunt down and 'tag' the target. If the target saw the operative coming, the operative lost the round. Jim was the undisputed champion of Gotcha.
But now, he had bigger and better prey than some field worker who was designated as the 'target'. He was in essence, hunting a hunter and so his quarry was to be considered much more dangerous. That thought made Jim smirk. A thwarted Simon Banks was very dangerous indeed. Of that, Panther One had no doubt.
Sliding swiftly around a corner on his way across the compound grounds, Panther One came across a sight that changed the dynamic of the 'game' drastically. Suddenly, Jim Ellison pretending to be an operative with the code name Panther One morphed into a angry Sentinel known as Jim Ellison the Panther. The Sentinel's anger was a fire that burned ice cold and a growl rumbled from his throat.
There, right before him, four Mytillese builders were tormenting Chin Lee, Kevin Lee's uncle. The furred creatures had surrounded the elderly Terran and were shoving him back and forth between them. They were baring their teeth and calling out insults and taunts. Jim could smell the fear pouring off of the old man.
Sentinel instincts kicked him like a mule and his mind saw red. He heard someone shouting out a challenge in ancient Chopec and vaguely realized that it was him doing so. He experienced flash impressions of soft fur, solid flesh, cracking bones and high pitched shrieks before a blast of intense light washed over him in a pain filled crackle of energy.
Stunned by the overwhelming pain, Jim could only turn slightly to catch a glimpse of the Stragillon guard aiming a phase rifle at him before he collapsed into the dirt next to a broken Mytillese body.
The last thing Jim heard before the darkness claimed him was Chin Lee praising his bravery for saving him from the brutal attack of the four fallen Mytillese.
The MultiFandom MPREG Archive
We Welcome MPREG and Kid Fiction From All Fandoms
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.