Blood Sabers Page 7

  “Better make sure Mary knows. She will try to lie about the abortion,” Sylvia said.

  “Sorry I blew at her; I know it is different for you, but we have battled so much for so long just to survive. For many years, the death of as little as one hundred more would have wiped everyone out. It was really touch and go. We are stable, but not out of the woods yet.”

  “She’ll get over it, she’s a tough one,” Sylvia said.

  “Not my business but you and John are lovers, correct?” he asked.

  “Correct,” Sylvia said. “It is none of your business.”

  The computer snickered and continued, “I really hope you allow him to mate here. He and Bill’s DNA in the mix would really solve a major problem.” He said to Sylvia, “I know the females of Earth are possessive, a different culture with different needs, but we need new DNA infusions badly. Now if you women wanted to have a few babies that would really be a boon, but I ask too much,” he said.

  “Yes, you do,” Sylvia said, but laughed.

  “So it is not a shock to you, sex and love are somewhat separate here, even now. Sex is freely given and accepted within our rules. Marriage is for love. Love is a soul commitment and your souls must be read for compatibility before you marry. We have no divorces. I feel you will adjust once you understand.”

  We went up the ramp. At the hatch we met Bill and Mary. In the door was a man. About five foot nine, 170lbs. Pale blue skin and a dusty brown hair. His blue eyes took us all in with but a glance. I sensed he had a problem from his body language, but it wasn’t my concern.

  “I am Prince Richard of the UNF, third heir to the throne. He backed up and three gorgeous blue skinned women were standing there. “This is my first wife, Guinevere, taken from one of your ancient stories,” he pointed, starting from the left. “This is my second wife, Latwasa, and my third wife, Lydia.” As he pointed, each bowed their heads slightly so I did as well.

  He wore a light blue sash and a pair of blue boxer shorts. Each woman wore a pair of what appeared to be silk panties and what amounted to little more than a few bands of cloth from over the shoulders and across the breasts to go to the waist, and a very short, pleated skirt affair. Exactly the same design as on the TV. Very provocative to say the least. One was red, one royal blue and one white.

  I introduced my crew.

  He cleared the door and said, “Please come in.”

  I noticed the women glance down at Bill and I, but only for a second.

  I went in, the others followed. He brought us to a table and gave Bill and I some boxer shorts, and Sylvia and Mary got gold dresses like they wore. Once attired, we sat on a bench along the hull, and they sat on chairs around the table. As soon as the hatch closed, we were under gravity. Our surprise was noticed. “One of the side effects of Rodel’s knew grav riders. It is adjustable too,” he said.

  A woman came out from the back, very pregnant. She set cups before us all. First wife excused herself and went to help her.

  They came back in a minute with hot liquid that was poured into each cup, and a small plate with what looked like black bread. The pregnant woman pulled up a chair and sat.

  “This is my courtesan, Minda. She bares my child soon,” he said. We nodded. The woman could not be over nineteen or twenty.

  Sylvia looked at her strangely.

  The woman said, “We know it is not your way, but I assure you, we all fully accept it as ours. I do not wish to be tied down by marriage at this time, there is no one I love. I agreed to have his child for him, as simple as that. Sex is required for children and a little fun, but love is required for soul fulfillment.” His wives nodded as she said, “Two of them were pregnant at the time, Lydia was off on Royal Knight training duties, so I was asked by Princess Guinevere to be his courtesan. Now they have taken over the sexual duties while I await childbirth. You understand?”

  “Not really,” Mary said.

  “Do you four not mate?” Guinevere asked.

  “Yes we do,” I said.

  “Are you married?” she asked.

  “Um, no,” I said, “but they are fixed to not have children.”

  “I am so sorry to hear that, but if you wish we have a fine medical staff available that can correct almost all deficiencies now.”

  “It is a choice we make, to go to space,” Sylvia said. “During your war did you allow a pregnant woman to go to battle the Koteck?” Sylvia asked. She pronounced it like some woman’s tampon.

  “No! It was forbidden,” Richard said.

  “It is pronounced K-O-Tech, from their old Egyptian writings,” Lydia said.

  “Thanks. Always got a giggle out of their name, but there you have it, we can’t go to space if we are, or might become, pregnant.” She added, “It is also forbidden.”

  They obviously had not thought of that. “I still feel sorry you cannot bear children; there truly is nothing more joyous. Married or single, the gift of life is so precious to us all,” Lydia said.

  The prince refocused our thoughts. “This is what we call tea. We have developed the real kind, and coffee also, but what you see in front of you, plus a small piece of dried fish, is all we ate, usually two or three times a day when available. King Jake loved the tea so we have kept it a tradition since, for guests and company. Dunk the bread if you wish,” Richard said.

  I dunked the bread, and found it very sweet, and the tea was wonderful. I told them so. The others liked it too.

  “Excellent, we shall land in about fifteen minutes. If you gentlemen care to come forward and watch the landing? The ladies can chat as they do.”

  “We have two-hundred plus years of gossip to catch up on,” one of his wives said.

  A few laughs went around. I warned Mary about lying. The others just glanced my way a second.

  The entire front of the ship was transparent.

  “Looks like glass, doesn’t it?” he asked.

  Bill said, “It’s not? What is it then, some new crystal?”

  Richard said, “Off,” and the walls turned blank.

  Bill tapped it. “Metal?” he asked.

  “Yes, you remember your light bending tarps?” he asked.

  “We still have them,” I said.

  “Latwasa, Jake’s sort of adopted daughter, was our R&D. She found a process that allowed that technology to be applied here.

  “On.” The view stabilized. “You see what is seen from the other side; it is bent around and displayed here. Looks quite magical, but I am told it is really a simple process.”

  “I’m curious. As third in line, the chances are you will never see the throne, so you just goof off and try to get women pregnant?” Bill asked.

  Richard laughed. “I wish! No, we all work, we were allowed a vacation is all. I am the ruler of a portion of the southern continent. According to Rodel you should think of us like the governors of a state. My state is in mining mostly, a little wood supply, but mostly mining. Each prince is given a state if they wish one. If there are not enough of us then a princess is assigned until all states have a ruler,” he said. “Others are bakers and builders and shop owners. Our choice.”

  “So you administer the laws?” I asked.

  “No, the chiefs deliver our laws with the consent of Council. All but the sub-chief are women. We rule, we settle certain types of disputes, and negotiate for resources, contracts, things along those lines. Administrators.

  “King Jake the First was given total power by The Chief when he promised to help defeat the Koteck, but he gave a good portion back to her after he stopped the mating ritual and started schools and setting up our council type government system. We rule by consent of the people and our council. If we try to abuse power we are voted out.”

  There was a slight bump. “We have arrived. This field by the castle is our landing port until they complete the official space center. If you desire, I will take you and the women by a shop that makes our clothing. You do not need any of course, but we understand you have certain barba
ric and wasteful ways.” He smiled broadly.

  All the women caught up to us. “Nice chat?” I asked Sylvia.

  “Interesting for sure. Some truly strange ideas they have,” she said.

  “Prince Richard has offered to bring us by a clothing shop,” I said.

  “He knows we have nothing to pay with?” Mary said.

  The Prince nodded. “We will write it off under diplomatic relations. Not a problem, I assure you.”

  The shop was called, Tatters and Tears.

  “This shop was originally started by King Jake Junior—his third wife was managing to tear or rip or shred her white panties and dress so much when she went hunting that this shop was created to fix and repair them. We hadn’t developed the tools necessary to make the smooth silk yet. The idea caught on and it is now one of the largest in the UNF.”

  “Richard, to what do we owe the pleasure today?” The man inside had already seen us.

  “Willard, may I present our first official visitors from space. Original Earth inhabitants, and now I am told they are colonists of a nearby system. Put their needs on my tab please.” He turned to me, “John here is their captain.

  “When he is done with you just follow the yellow brick road—the blue path really—it will bring you to the gates. The guard will escort you from there. Welcome to Camelot.”

  I nodded. “Thank you, Sire.”

  “No, only the king is Sire. Prince is fine.” He gave a little laugh as he collected his wives and left.

  “Did he explain anything of our customs here?” Willard asked.

  “Just that most people ran almost naked, but if we were barbarians and required covering, you’d take care of us,” Bill said.

  “Well, we spent several hundred years with the sun dying, our animals almost gone, nothing much would grow, and we were forced to be naked most of the time. We got use to it and we now find it normal,” he explained. “King Jake introduced formal gowns, but they are rarely worn, and only for special occasions. The current female battledress was a compromise of the little fur bands a few women still had when he came and Jake’s homemade silk panties.

  Mary said, “The queens said they have regular dresses for royal functions and weddings. The males wear a light sheer version of our flight suit, or boxer shorts and sash.”

  “It does mean little guess work on our parts, I like that,” Sylvia said.

  I started to punch her arm but she smiled and wagged her finger at me, “No, no, no. Willard here would be required to kill you. Is that not correct, Willard?”

  “If he struck you in anger he would have but a few heartbeats left to his life, that is correct. However we know the difference,” he smiled. “Also, Mary, those ladies are princesses not queens. The flight-suits she mentioned are no longer available; too much material we don’t have.”

  “Okay, let’s get some clothes,” Bill said.

  Willard said, “We have many non-royal colors you may select. White is for weddings or the third wife only. The royal red, royal blue, and the pale blue are all reserved for royal families. Might I suggest the royal purple?”

  All declined.

  He laughed. “I am told those two bolts of silk are more than two-hundred and fifty years old. No one likes the color.”

  “Why are they reserved?” Bill asked. “I like the royal blue.”

  “Long story, I assume you have seen our flag and it’s motto, along with the red panties in the corner?” he asked.

  “A most interesting motto,” Sylvia said.

  “Yes, originally it read ‘To be removed in safety’, but Jake took offense and it was slightly modified. Red is for the first royal wife, blue is for the second, and white is for the third. The pale blue was King Jake’s sword and armor colors and Queen Linda usually wore blue and white representing both their swords, except on official functions.

  “May I start with you ladies; you’re more fun to play with than the men.” He winked.

  “I wear a size—” Mary started to say.

  “Oh dear me, no, no. All our clothing is made by hand. Well the designing is, we have a seamstress in the back that sews it together—more efficient and elegant than the hand stitching of old. I will get my daughter to measure the males for theirs,” he said. “Ladies, choose a color carefully. It is your family color until you marry. If you get married, you will normally wear the color of that male’s wifely position.

  “Also, we will make one dress for formal occasions. It will be the same color and delivered when ready.”

  “I want a dark blue suit,” Bill said.

  “Sir, you may choose your color also, but you get boxer shorts. For official functions you get one pair with the fly sewn shut so as not to embarrass yourself, and an unadorned shoulder sash, unless you have medals or are a swordmaster wanting an Obi.”

  “Do service or good conduct count?” Sylvia asked.

  “No, only medals won for daring-do or personnel sacrifice. I forgot about all those silly feel-good ones Rodel mentioned,” he laughed. “If you women have one they are worn above the left breast, nearest the heart.”

  Bill shook his head, as did the girls. He stared into each one of their eyes, searching.

  “Nope,” I said.

  He stared into mine, it almost hurt. “Sir, you are aware the penalty for lying is death?”

  I nodded.

  “My sword is sharp, I assure you. Shall I take your head here or do you wish to change that lie?” He stared into me.

  “Um, no, I have an attachment to it. I just don’t mention them, is all. I have two insignificant little ones I received on old Earth for being stupid and being injured. An attempt to rescue a couple people in a fight in Washington a long time ago when I was in the reserves. However, they are not from here.”

  “Only warning to all of you. To refuse to answer is acceptable, to lie is death. This is your second and last warning. We will send your body back minus your head with a note that reads ‘liar’ to wherever you came from. We can also tell if it was earned or fluff.” He paused a second. “I am curious, was the attempt successful?” he asked.

  “Partially. One lived, one died. I was young and a bit more idealistic then. I had broken up with Sylvia here and didn’t much care. Old news.”

  “Well, I don’t normally pull rank and you are a registered diplomat, but listen carefully—are you listening?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Good. I Willard Spoonbill, rightful heir to the Throne of Camelot and the second behind Rodel in State affairs, order you, John T. Whiteherst, to go by the honors shop upon leaving here, and present yourself. If we have a record of your medals they will be reproduced for your sash. If not, they will issue our closest equivalent. Violating a royal order has most dire consequences, I assure you. We honor anyone’s heroes and they are not permitted to hide from that honor. Are we quite clear on that point, Sir?”

  “Um, yes, Sire…err, your majesty…err, Prince Sir, quite.”

  He laughed. “I am but a humble tailor serving my customers as best I can.” He winked at the girls.

  He raised his voice, “Daughter, we have customers. Please assist these gentlemen while I help the ladies?”

  A striking beauty came out, with bright blue eyes, golden, almost platinum white hair, and very pale blue skin. She had the hips and facial features of a movie star, or a really sexy model. She had a beautiful, full chest, not the smaller ones I had seen so far. I was gawking.

  Willard said, “Yes, she is stunning. Has all of Queen Linda’s looks except the bronze skin. Quite proud of her. She is also almost as smart as Queen Aawasa was except she has, so far, refused the attentions of our drooling male population.” He shook his head.

  “Father! I am only seventeen! I will marry if I wish, or be a courtesan like my sister. I promise, I will tell you when I am no longer a virgin, but I know our history and I am truly afraid I am as oversexed as all my grandmothers past to Linda. My man must be able to handle my needs and I have found
none interesting.” She nodded at me. “I am also called Linda, I am afraid. If we have certain, um, attributes, we are given that name. Interestingly only one is born per generation with the boobs and hips, eyes and hair. I have the misfortune of being that one.” She laughed. Definitely female, and a hair deeper in voice than some.

  “They say I am a bit of a rebel, but I would think a rebel would not be a virgin for seventeen years in a society were the normal loss is, say, thirteen or fourteen even today. Well, it’s by choice now, not mandated mating. I ramble, please, whoever is first, step up here.” She pointed to a little dais and had clearly been agitated over what appeared to be a common argument between them.

  “Well, maybe because you battle the norm for your society is what makes you a rebel,” Sylvia said.

  “Ladies, the same, if one of you care to be first?” Willard moved them a bit further down to a different dais.

  I stepped up on it.

  “Your color, Sir?” Linda asked.

  “I like that blue/black one, I think.” I pointed to the sample.

  “Excellent choice! Contrasts well against your blond hair.” She smiled.

  She measured, really got down and personnel in some ways. She went in back and did some cutting and came back and checked the fit. I was aroused, I couldn’t help it. She did a quick check and said, “Okay.”

  She did a quick measure on Bill who became aroused as well. He said, “Not fair!”

  She said to Bill, “You are okay too, a hair below our normal, but I think a few women might take you on for the newness and fun.” She winked at him.

  Mary said, “I like him just fine!” and kind of harrumphed.

  Finally, Linda finished and took the parts in back for sewing. She called me back. “Your woman Sylvia is very lucky. Wait here while the girl sews it up.”

  I was chatting with Linda about the women getting tubes cut and why, and I thought I read Bill had a vasectomy.