• Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Sci-Fi & Fantasy
  • /
  • Hostage

Hostage

1234

"My Lord Patriarch, I will of course compensate you fully for the loss of the ship in any way that I can, I assure you that this was completely unforeseen."

The Patriarch snarled, raising his hackles and exposing his sharp, carnivore teeth at the merchant, his pearlescent, ornate fur cape flowing behind him. The far shorter and plumper human straightened his tie uncomfortably, avoiding the penetrating gaze of the nine foot Borealan monarch.

Benedict sold used starships by trade, it was not an easy business to break into, even a second hand hull rendered unfit for naval service by battle damage cost a fortune to purchase. Fortunately his family was wealthy, and he had begun by recycling the hulks for scrap money. Recently he had discovered a far more lucrative business opportunity.

Borealis was a newly contacted planet, uncivilized and bordering enemy territory. The Patriarch who ruled Elysia, the most powerful and prosperous of the Borealan nations, was eager to modernize his military and not averse to paying for it. Benedict had been selling him used UNN starships, fixing what damage he could and bringing retired designs up to spec, in exchange for raw materials and precious metals that were abundant on the alien world.

The Patriarch had been delighted to have his own fleet, though Benedict doubted he knew to what extent the vessels were outdated or unfit for service, and had no intention of informing him. The world had no naval obligation to the multi-species Coalition that included humanity, and the ships were mostly decorative, used to intimidate and show off to the other territories of the planet.

The latest deal however, had gone badly. Benedict had purchased the UNN Alexandria at auction, a light cruiser that had suffered severe structural damage from a Betelgeusian smartbomb. The superstructure had been completely crippled, the damned ship barely holding together, and it had been sold for barely the value of its salvage after having been written off. He had gotten greedy, hiring a team of engineers to patch it up and reinforce the hull to the point that it was spaceworthy again, then had sold it to the Patriarch for three times the value of its scrap metal.

Borealis however had no space elevators and no orbital docks, which meant that the Patriarch had a bad habit of making landfall and applying unnecessary strain on his vessels. The Alexandria had broken up on reentry, killing her Borealan crew, and the monarch was furious.

"My people live by a code of honor," the feline alien growled, glaring at the merchant with his reflective, amber eyes. They were sat at a long table in the Patriarch's ivory spire, and the enormous creature tapped its curved claws on the marble surface, tipped with ornate thimbles made of gold. The room was decorated with innumerable banners and tapestries, depicting great battles or royal standards. Guards of comparable size and ferocity stood to attention nearby, their gilded, red armor standing out against the white pillars that held up the ceiling. Their long tails flicked back and forth, their round, furry ears protruded from their helmets, swiveling to track the conversation.

"Borealans do not lie, we do not cheat. We have traded much in the past, Benedict, and I am grateful for your contributions to the might and prosperity of Elysia. But if I find that you have misled me, cheated me, I will take that as a personal insult."

Benedict was sweating, both because of the intense heat and gravity of the alien world, and because of the way the creature's nostrils flared in anger as it stared him down. He had never seen the alien so angry before, going by the usual temperament of the Borealans it was a miracle that he had not been savaged yet.

"My dear Patriarch, you are my most valued customer! In all of Coalition space there is no alliance, and no business relationship that I would go further to maintain than the one that we share. I can promise you most assuredly that I will track down the original owner of the Alexandria and ensure that justice is served for your crew who so regretfully perished in the crash." The alien was still angry, but he was listening. Benedict could still salvage this mess. "With your permission, I will return to human space and retrieve compensation for you, a vessel of twice the value of the Alexandria."

The Patriarch scratched his chin, considering.

"That will be satisfactory, I agree to your terms," Benedict breathed a sign of relief, but the Patriarch was not finished. "But on one condition."

"Whatever you wish, Lord Patriarch."

"I fear that if you return to human space, I may never hear from you again. You humans do not always reveal your intentions, and often talk at crossed purposes." Benedict began to speak, but the alien cut him off with a gesture of his massive hand. "I will allow you to return and retrieve my compensation, however I will require that you leave your daughter in my custody. When the new ship is in my possession, I shall release her to you."

"A...hostage?" Benedict was hesitant to use the term, but the Patriarch seemed deadly serious.

"Think of it as collateral. You have caused me a great deal of trouble, Merchant Benedict, but as this is your first transgression, I will give you an opportunity to redeem yourself. Do not disappoint me."

Benedict wanted to protest, to negotiate some more favorable deal that did not involve leaving his treasured daughter in the hands of aliens, but the stern expression on the Patriarch's face told him that this meeting was over. He rose to his feet unsteadily, the crippling 1.3G gravity weighing down the already out of shape man, and he bowed deeply.

"As you wish, Patriarch."

"Daddy you can't! You simply can't!"

Rebecca batted at her father with a silken pillow, her frilly nightgown flaring as she stomped her feet. The portly merchant tried to keep her under control, pulling the pillow from her hands and pleading with her to calm down. The desert planet hovered outside the window, her lavishly furnished quarters on their private yacht was her home during these extended voyages. She was in the prime of her life, and had reached the age when her rapidly developing figure had become a magnet for suitors. Benedict was overprotective, but he didn't trust her to behave if he left her on Earth alone. She had a driver's license after all, and was now too old for him to confine her to their villa.

"The decision has been made, Becky, please! I'll only be gone for a few days, I own a shipyard two jumps from Borealis. All you have to do is stay on the planet. The Patriarch is a king, he has all of the amenities you're used to, and I'll be able to send down anything you want before I leave."

"It's awful and hot, and the gravity hurts my ankles," the young woman pouted, giving in and collapsing onto her bed to sit with her arms crossed. "Why do I have to stay Daddy? Why didn't you just tell him no?"

"Daddy has worked very hard for this alliance, princess. Our family now has exclusive access to the Borealan market, we alone can exploit their materials and provide them with ships. These aliens are a backward race, it all depends on my personal relationship with their damned Patriach. If I upset him and don't make amends, he'll cut us off."

Rebecca sulked, turning her head away from her father conspicuously. She was a spoiled, petulant girl, but how could the daughter of a rich merchant be anything else? She twirled her golden locks in her manicured finger, doing her best impression of a scared, innocent girl.

"I'm afraid, Daddy. You know those beasts are violent, what if they decide to eat me?"

Benedict sighed, he was all too familiar with this routine, she knew just how to push his buttons, and after her mother had passed away, she knew that she was all he had left. Carol had always known how to reign her daughter in, but Benedict was too soft on her, he didn't have the heart. She was the most precious thing in the world to him, but he knew the word of the Patriarch was good. It wouldn't work this time, too much was at stake.

"Darling, I have already agreed, now pack your things, I have to leave soon."

A tear of anger rather than sorrow slipped down her cheek, and she pursed her lips, throwing a stuffed animal at her father.

"Daddy you're the worst!"

Rebecca removed her heels, walking on her long cotton socks as her father urged her along, the high gravity of the planet already making her joints hurt, and causing her usually bouncy, curled hair to sag. He dragged her massive suitcase behind him, filled with far more clothes than she could possibly expect to need.

"I look like an urchin, Daddy," she muttered.

"I did tell you to wear something practical."

"It's so dusty and dirty, my socks will be ruined."

"I'll buy you new socks," Benedict grunted, heaving the suitcase and passing it to a waiting servant. The eight foot alien, clad in a floaty, revealing gown took it easily, and carried it away into the spire. The building was the seat of Elysian power, towering over the surrounding city, which was made up of short, squat buildings. The gravity discouraged the aliens from building too high, and by human standards the six storey tower was laughable, but in this environment it was imposing. It was made from white stone that reflected the harsh light of the primary star.

"This must be Rebecca," the Patriarch boomed in his deep, baritone voice. He was stood in the doorway to the spire, tall and wide enough to completely block the entrance. He was wearing his ornate, blue armor, embroidered with numerous scenes of hunting and war in fine, golden thread. His long cape fell behind him, the odd fur gleaming in the sunlight, the colors shifting hues depending on the angle of the observer. He extended his hand to Rebecca, who looked puny and fragile in comparison, the black and orange markings that patterned his skin visible beneath his sleeve. She hesitated for a moment, afraid, then after a quick glance at her father for reassurance, took the beast's hand.

The Patriarch leaned down and kissed her wrist, his massive head as large as the girl's torso. His mane of orange hair fell about her.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, daughter of Merchant Benedict," the alien rumbled. He had been brushing up on his human etiquette. He turned to Benedict, his expression more stern.

"She is safe with me, return as quickly as you can. I am eager to put this affair behind us."

Benedict nodded, and embraced his daughter, before turning back to the shuttle. Rebecca watched it rise from the stone landing pad, kicking up a cloud of dust, then fly away into the azure sky, the flare of its engines slowly fading.

"Please, this way, Rebecca," the Patriarch said, gesturing for her to follow him with his long arm. She trailed after him, her shoes dangling in her hand, and did her best to avoid stepping on his cape as it dragged on the ground.

"Your father was very specific about your requirements, and has left us with a stock of food, and instructions on how to prepare it. Your suite has been furnished to your liking, and you will be provided with a guard and servant. Do not hesitate to ask, should you need anything. At your father's insistence you will be confined to that area of the spire, he believes you will be safer that way, despite my assurances that no harm can befall you here."

She followed him down a carpeted hall, the walls lined with elaborate tapestries and alien busts carved from wood sitting on marble pillars. Everything looked so large, it made her feel like she had shrunk. After a moment they came to a door to their right, its size just as exaggerated as the other furnishings in the spire. The Patriarch took the knob in his massive hand, turning it and pushing the door ajar. He ushered Rebecca inside with a wave of his claws. She slipped past him, he was almost large enough to block her path entirely even standing aside so that she might pass him.

She emerged into an open plan room, far larger than the cabin on her yacht. There was a gigantic bed that looked large enough to fit ten people, its mattress covered in silken sheets and heaps of satin pillows. The walls were made from large blocks of stone, but they were covered in most places by huge tapestries and carpets, no windows she realized. Some were embroidered with fine, intricate scenes of hunting and battles, others with geometric patterns or floral designs that the girl found quite pleasing to the eye. The same busts on pedestals were present here too, and she noted that the arches that opened up the walls to her left and right were elaborately carved, as if some skilled mason had poured his heart into the stone once he had finished his labor. There were faces, animals, plants, it was quite tasteful. These arches led to what must have been a bathroom and perhaps a storage area. There was A/C of some kind, the temperature of the room was lower than the stifling native atmosphere, and the air was more humid. At least her hair and skin would not be damaged during her stay. What furniture there was, was carved from dark wood that resembled mahogany. As she stepped over the threshold she felt her stomach drop, warning her that she was floating. She looked down in alarm, but her feet were firmly planted on the ground, it was a gravity device of some kind, easing the crushing hold of the planet. Relief washed over her as the pressure was taken off her joints. The patriarch smiled at her obvious approval, bowing and waving his arm jovially.

"An AG field generator, my lady. Small scale, but I obtained one and had it installed in this guest room by my architects some time ago, so that it might serve to alleviate the strain on our human visitors. As you can see, your belongings were brought to your room already."

"I must say, Lord Patriarch," Rebecca said, turning to the giant alien as he awaited her response. "I am pleasantly surprised, your choice of décor is tasteful and you have taken many steps to make my stay here more comfortable." She curtsied as her father had taught her to do when thanking high profile guests or dignitaries who he so often met with, and the Patriarch seemed delighted by this. "Thank you, my Lord."

"As you can plainly see, your father's fears were unfounded, my lady. May I introduce you to your guard and servant, he will see to your needs during your stay with us." He barked an order in his course native tongue, his baritone voice reverberating down the hall. He was kind and well mannered, she liked the great beast well enough, but she couldn't help but be intimidated by his sheer size and obvious strength.

Another Borelan trotted down the hall, standing to attention beside his Patriarch. This one was a little smaller than him, probably about eight feet tall with shoulders that were none the less far broader than those of a human. He had jet black hair and fur, like a panther she thought, and a skin tone to match. He had green eyes that peeked from below his brow, reflecting the light as her eyes wandered over his attire. He wore ruby red armor, emblazoned with golden figures and trim, it looked very ceremonial, some kind of royal guard perhaps? He was unarmed, not that the aliens seemed to need anything besides their wicked claws to fight, and the seemingly ceramic armor extended to his torso and limbs, ending at the hands and feet. A long, stabilizing tail protruded from behind his body, the same shade of inky black as the rest of him.

"This is Beltza, he will see to your needs. His English is adequate, do not hesitate to make requests of him, as I have ordered him to treat you as his Alpha."

"Begging your pardon, Patriarch, but what does that mean?"

"Ah, you are unaccustomed to Borealan society? The Alpha is the highest ranked pack member, in this case it is an honorary title that requires him to obey any order given as if it came from my very lips."

"I see, thank you."

"He will stand guard by the door, call him should the need arise. I must bid you farewell, daughter of Benedict, I have much business to attend to. I trust you have everything you need?"

"Yes, Lord Patriarch. Thank you for your hospitality." The great beast bowed, and then proceeded back down the hall the way they had come, his long cloak trailing behind him as it shimmered under the light.

Rebecca eyed her guard cautiously, now that they were alone together she realized how damned big he was. His size had seemed understated as he had stood next to the larger Patriarch. Becky was a fairly small girl, her figure was lithe and she could best be described as slight, though her golden curls and developed figure wooed her male classmates much to the distress of her father. At five feet tall her head barely passed the giant alien's waist. He was looking straight ahead as if he couldn't see her at all. She decided to just shut the door on him, this was not some influential ruler like the Patriarch, it was just some manservant, undeserving of her courtesy. Besides, the giant, orange-haired beast had made it sound as if the guard had to obey any order given. He would hardly protest her treatment of him.

Enjoying the lighter gravity and the cool air, she explored her room, there was indeed a bathroom and a storage area where most of her belongings were stacked. If the clumsy beasts had broken anything she would strangle her father, that buffoon. How had he allowed this to happen? He was like a jellyfish, no spine to speak of, a man should have stood up to that great furry creature and refused to have his only daughter serve as...as collateral to a botched deal.

Oh well, no matter, her room was indeed comfortable and attractively furnished. She sat on the bed, having to jump a little due to its exaggerated height. The mattress was soft and the sheets were fine indeed, perhaps finer than those on her own bed back home. She removed her long socks, feeling the texture of the carpeted floor between her toes, and wandered around the space admiring the artwork. The carvings were everywhere. Not merely confined to the stone arches, but on the legs of tables, chairs, on stones in the wall, chiseled into the pillars that held aloft the domed roof, and seemingly anywhere there was workable material that wasn't covered by tapestries or obscured by decorations.

She examined the tapestries, they looked heavy and they were held up by golden rods, secured in the stone walls by large hooks. Their designs were woven with colored threads, creating depictions of battles and hunting scenes, numerous embroidered representations of Borealans fighting eachother or chasing down prey animals. One prominently displayed what looked like a giant tarantula, which she hoped to God was fictional.

She became bored of exploring her surroundings, and so decided to unpack her clothes and personal effects. The chests were heavy though, and even in the lower gravity she was unable to move some of them. She considered just opening them and moving her belongings piece by piece, but a sly thought entered her head. She had been assigned a servant, had she not? One who was bound to obey her word as law.

"Beltza," she called, and heard the wooden door to her room open as the giant alien entered. He found her in the store room and stood to attention. "Please move these chests into the bedroom, and help me unpack." He obeyed without complaint, hefting the luggage with an ease that surprised her. He was incredibly strong, more heavily muscled than any human she had ever seen. His bicep must have been thicker than her torso. How much did these damned aliens weigh? Three hundred pounds? More in their own gravity. They would need such well developed muscles to even stay upright as large as they were.

It didn't take him long to accomplish his task, and he stood beside her as stiff as a rod as she opened the clasps and began to unpack. She heaped piles of clothes onto her bed, gowns, skirts, all manner of fineries and dresses that her father had insisted she would not need. She was the daughter of a prominent merchant however, and she believed in looking her best at all times, especially in the company of dignitaries. There was also the factor of her own considerable vanity of course, and she was not afraid to admit to it. She worked hard on maintaining her appearance and expected the people around to appreciate the effort.

1234
  • Index
  • /
  • Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Sci-Fi & Fantasy
  • /
  • Hostage

All contents © Copyright 1996-2023. Literotica is a registered trademark.

Desktop versionT.O.S.PrivacyReport a ProblemSupport

Version ⁨1.0.2+795cd7d.adb84bd⁩

We are testing a new version of this page. It was made in 98 milliseconds