The Misbegotten

Estefan’s face was grim as he saved what he’d written with a mental command, then waved the sim-screen away. His Neuro-Nanoswarm scattered about his appointed quarters within the Null-ship.

If I’d only known just how much pussy I’d have thrown in my face back then, maybe I’d had done things in a different manner, he considered. He was serious for about a second before realizing he was full of shit. There was no way he could’ve denied himself the women who’d come to his bed eager to please him in every way. Yeah, there’s no way. He glanced down at himself, knowing he couldn’t have refused.

He was wearing baggy synth-cotton trousers and a matching, dark blue tunic, complete with a drawstring at the chest. It was becoming his favorite sort of clothing to wear when he wrote. It was loose, didn’t bunch and let his skin breathe, which was something he required now. His density made him warm, in constant need of circulating air.

It had been seven Earth-days since they’d departed Luna Prime. Less than half of one, since they’d entered what the ships’ Nav-system told them was the Jovian System proper. The trip should’ve taken no more than three days, but traveling by Null-ship was always slower. The programming of the onboard sensory arrays and early detection modules were to avoid discovery at all costs. Oftimes, their course altered in the dramatic to fulfill this over-riding directive.

Because of this, they still had a few more days to go before they reached their destination. Traffic about Jupiter and its many, many moons was always heavy. There was little doubt the Null-ships’ route would prove random, and tiresome, at best.

Most of the time he’d spent writing between times he had to deal with various pressing issues in need of his attention. Leading an organization as large as the Aegis Synod demanded his personal input every day, sometimes many times a day. There were spells when he could not rest or spend time with his wives. This was proving true over the course of the past week.

His wives, as well as his cousin Jacob, and his brother and sister-in-law, had all boarded the Null-ship on Luna Prime. The rest of the High Command had scattered across his vast empire after the Gathering ended. Estefan wanted a core group of them to remain with him.

Two earth-days from the Moon, this proved impossible. The Synod lost all communication with a Diatainium prospecting team deep in the outer reaches of the Solar System. It was the same one, Johan and Jolene had left behind when they’d answered Estefan’s call Earth-days before.

This was unusual. They’d left behind cutting-edge equipment and weaponry, much more than they would ever need. This included many redundancies in communications as well as a full company of well-trained Aegis Marines.

Yet, less than a fortnight later, they’d lost contact with the entire mining colony. Nothing had come out of the region for almost thirty hours before Estefan had to send Jacob, his hand forced. He hadn’t sent him alone though. An entire brigade of troops, their accompanying transports and a screening force of Agave Class Frigates and two Chaz Class Destroyers went as well. This was enough muscle to hold off a full-scale incursion from any one of his enemies.

And still nothing.

Jacob had left the Null-ship via a stealth Sky-car, which wasn’t as good at masking as was Null-tech, but it was all they’d had aboard. Later, he would rendezvous with the fleet of warships from Luna. He and thousands Marines would make their way to the Belt in search of answers.

Estefan had been waiting five Earth-days for those answers. They’d yet to come. This was beginning to worry him. Jacob should’ve been able to send word to him by now, and yet, he hadn’t.

Something was wrong.

A day and a half later, one of their many space-labs had sent an urgent communique direct to Johan and Jolene. Within minutes, they were both before him, requesting he grant them permission to leave. He had asked them more than once why the urgency. Neither of them would reply, saying it would be better if they confirmed the report first. Estefan had almost become angry. Until, Jolene had told him, in a vague sense, this group of scientists might’ve discovered something incredible.

She had said they’d stumbled upon what they thought might be new sort of particle-bean technology. It was so new, and bizarre, with such far reaching benefits, it could prove more lucrative than Null-tech. Or so she said.

This was, after all, saying a lot and it piqued Keeper’s interest. Null-tech was by far the commodity that kept them so far above their competition – in both wealth and technology. If what his sister-in-law told him was even half-way true, this new tech could be worth quadrillions.

He hadn’t bothered dickering around anymore. He got them both aboard the fastest ship they had aboard the hulking Null-ship, an Aegis Corvette. This was a large Sky-car capable of reaching ninety-nine point eight-six percent the speed of light. They were gone within the hour and a quarter-way to their destination an hour after.

He hoped they could confirm the rumors. It would be nice to hold the patent to yet another ground-breaking tech. He would like that very much.

The rest of his days he filed with the typical goings-on of running the Synod. Interspersed, he had the occasional encounter with one or two of his wives. One Earth-morning, it had been five of them in his bed. After, he had to endure a few hours of Medicinal-Cryosleep to recover from what those vigorous women had put him through.

Still though, the thought of them fucking him senseless was appealing. It was their way of life and had been for centuries. His wives demanded his attentions and he was more than willing to give it to them… over and over and over. He smiled at the thought.

Then, he frowned, recalling a quick, sticky tryst with one of the engineers aboard the Null-ship. She was a young thing, only forty-nine years old. Not that she looked her age of course. Even those who weren’t Old-Timer’s often lived past one hundred and fifty nowadays. All the improvements in diet, drugs and medicine made it so.

Thus, Maggie – that was her name – appeared no more than twenty-five with the upturned breasts and shelf-like rear end to prove it.

He’d been walking down a side corridor through the engineering level. His thoughts were of Ramona and the wonderful time they’d spent together the day before. Like the novice he’d been back in 2018, at the onset of his Mutation, he inadvertently began to think on her smell. This had always proved his undoing. Before he knew what was happening, Maggie was in his arms, kissing him, ferocious like a lioness. Her body melded to his, her hips thrusting into him as if there was nothing more important than having him inside her.

This act didn’t break any rules according to his wives. They had agreed long ago, since Estefan was an Arch-Andro, this was a permanent aspect of their lives. They couldn’t ignore or attempt to push to the side. It was inevitable. Given the right circumstances, women would fall into his bed, willing and wet.

That didn’t mean there weren’t protocols to follow though. Precedence in matters of this nature went back in the twenty-first century.

It was Ramona who had felt the change in Estefan first. She alerted Flavia he and a woman who hadn’t gone under “review” were moments of sexual congress. His one-time step-sister and cousin Katie had come at once, separating the two. They pulled Maggie aside, asking her if she wished to go under the review of the Synod. This was the first step down the path toward becoming a Consort of the Keeper.

She’d gone wide-eyed with shock, uncertain of what had happened to her, fearing for her life. Everyone knew crossing one of Estefan’s wives spelled death. The one called, the Guardian, was the deadliest.

Reputation and rumor said Flavia had once killed nine Kormieran assassins by herself. She had come from the encounter without a single injury to her person. One Kormieran alone should’ve been enough. Nine, working in concert, could’ve slain any head-of-state. They could've done it anywhere in the Solar System, on any day of the week, regardless of security. The fact, Flavia alone had pursued them. She had drawn them out and killed them all, had made her legend – a terrifying one at that. One could even go so far to say her defeat of the greatest assassins ever known was more frightening than Estefan’s revenge against those who had hired them in the first place. Genocide was an easy thing in the face of a death no one saw coming.

So, Maggie had gazed at those around her, petrified, wanting nothing more than to be away from them. She forgot she had ever wanted the Keeper as bad as she had moments before.

Out of necessity, Estefan looked away, shutting himself off from his Mutation. Her decision would have to be her own. No one could coerce her into making a commitment as final as that the women and girls make when choosing to go under the review of the Synod. Access to the Keeper’s bed promised long nights of pleasure and days bathed in wealth. But, any resulting offspring would belong to the Synod. A consort could leave at any time, and the Synod would care for her onto death, but only she could leave. Consorts had no parental rights over the children they might bear; only Estefan and his wives possessed them. It was the price to pay for a life many couldn’t even imagine.

In the end, Maggie refused review and she’d been abruptly confined to quarters for the duration of the trip. Upon their return from Europa, she would transfer to another quadrant of the vast empire ruled by the Keeper, never to see him again. To seek him out a second time, after refusing review, would mean death. This, Estefan’s wives would enforce with ruthless efficiency.

He had seen it before. None escaped them.

Other than those three incidents, nothing else had happened that was noteworthy. He and Mena had met twice to discuss the synod’s finances. They were so far in the black he had stopped trying to figure out why their meetings had once been so important.

The only real tidbit of information he bothered to commit to memory was the selling of the last of the underworld businesses. One he still owned after all these years. It had sentimental value, which was the only reason he had hung onto it as long as he had. Yet, it was a dinosaur, more work than profit. Thus, he had told Mena a few earth-months before to sell it to a friend for next to nothing. It was to be a gift more than anything else. He didn’t care to profit from the first false front he and his family organized.

It had been during the time of the persecutions, financed from the fruits of their first major theft.

Diatainium and Muslims, he thought harkening back to his first multi-billion dollar transaction. (When American dollars made been the currency of choice). It had put them on the map.

Who would’ve ever made that connection!

It had made them amongst the Mutos – good and bad alike. It had been the beginning of the Aegis Synod, even before the invention of that title.

I will miss Marquez & Associates… but, I have no more use for the illegal drug trade.

The pharmaceutical company he owned now, Med-Core, made more money than all the cocaine, meth, ecstasy and heroine had, combined. Besides, Med-Core could reproduce the effects of all those crude hallucinogens with easy now. And, do so minus all the addictive side-effects and the horrible corruption they inflicted upon the human form.

Marquez & Associates, named after my Uncles and the rest of us kids. Back when we ran at the sound of a pin drop. Back when we didn’t get to eat dinner every night or breakfast with the coming of the dawn. So long ago, are they even my memories? Or do they belong to someone else?

An irritating buzz sounded throughout his quarters. He sat within nothing more than a moderate-sized, rectangle of a room. He billeted a short distance from the bridge down a corridor abutting one of the inner hulls of the Null-ship. It was sparsely outfitted with a built-in table and bench unit. A double-sized bed, a desk and a chair and small seating area he could use to take a meeting rounded out the furnishings. There was an in-wall armoire and a small washing compartment. The Aegis’ stewards had provided a rich set of matching rugs. So, he could walk barefoot and not freeze his lower extremities upon the icy cold of the metal flooring. Other than that, there was little else, but this didn’t bother him. This was a trip born out of necessity and not a vacation. He could do without a few accruements for a change, if it meant a greater possibility of success. Obtaining the Shadow Spark and hiding it was all he cared about for the moment. The sooner he got rid of the damned thing, the better.

“Come,” he called from the desk he’d been writing at minutes before.

The door to his personal chamber slid into the wall without sound. Null-ship construction achieved complete silence. Only the people on board made noise.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Leda standing in the elongated hexagonal doorframe. She looked resplendent in one piece, jumpsuit with heeled boots attached to the garment itself. They were black and shone like obsidian in the artificial light provided by the ship. The rest of her outfit was white with varying strips of black, marking pockets with powered-zippers. There appeared to be sheaths for many different size blades as well, though none of them seemed filled at the time. The suit looked like leather, but it had a metallic quality about it, belying another sort of material altogether. Women’s fashion was so varied and diverse now. Estefan could not keep up.

So, as he sat there and gazed upon his wife, he couldn’t tell what it was she had encased her body. To him, it fit her like a glove, showing off every exquisite detail of her petite figure. That’s all that mattered to him.

“Hiya,” she said with a shake of her jet-black hair, placing a lock behind one of her ears. “Can I come in?” she asked in a small voice.

Estefan frowned at once. Leda was never one to tip-toe around him. Something’s up. “Sure you can, my dear. You know you don’t have to ask, since when have I kept my wives from seeing me?” he asked with a slight disbelieving undertone.

She sighed and walked forward with urgency. It made him sit up straight in his chair. It creaked for a moment as his Grav-belt lost its ability to regulate his weight, for a few seconds. It protested, feeling the brunt of four and a half hundred pounds.

Halfway to him, she held out her arms to him. Stunned, he saw tears beginning to form in her eyes. He couldn’t recall the last time he had seen her cry.

What in hell is going on?

It was all he had time to think before she scrambled up on his lap and hugged as fierce as ever. Her small arms wrapped about him tight. He was certain if he hadn’t been a Heavy, she would’ve choked the life out of him, right there, right then. She began to weep in earnest.

“Leda, what’s wrong, sweetheart? Why are you crying?”

She didn’t answer, scooting closer to him, her butt more on his waist, then in his lap.

He had known Leda since he was tenth grader and, up to that moment, not once had he seen her as vulnerable. She had always been tough, sarcastic and head-strong, even borderline moody at times. Though she looked like a model, your regular girlie-girl. In reality, she was far from anything prissy and delicate. She did not jump at spiders or was helpless unless there was a male around to help her. She was the exact opposite, capable of putting anyone in their place without a moments’ hesitation. She had a viper-like tongue and razor-sharp wit. She wasn’t afraid to go in for the kill, twist the knife between the ribs. Call it what you want, Leda was, and always would be, one tough bitch.

And yet… here she was crying in Estefan’s arms like a bride who’d been left at the altar. In fact, now that he thought about it, she hadn’t even wept like this on their wedding day.

Ok, what the fuck was going on?!?

“Leda, please tell me what is wrong,” he demanded. He was a little harsher than he intended, but, the fact she’d never acted like this before, unnerved him.

She pulled away from him as sudden as a hummingbird.

He stared at her as if she was about to break into a million pieces, right there in his lap. Then he saw her expression. His mouth gaped with astonishment, his mind was so bewildered; it fired everywhere at once. He found he couldn’t keep a coherent thought for more than a second.

Sitting upon him, her arms still loose about his neck, was Leda with the biggest, goofiest grin on her face. It seemed to split her face from ear to ear. Her face flushed with exertion, her cheeks soaked in tears, but she was… smiling?

It hit him like a ton of asteroid fragments. These weren’t tears of grief or anger or heartbreak. They were tears of joy.

But then, what did that mean? he thought, the befuddlement overwhelming him.

“Sweetie, I don’t under -.”

She cut him off, the words spewing forth like blood from a neck wound and so loud it was more of a yell. “I’m pregnant!”

His eyes bulged in their sockets. His hands holding her from beneath her arms, he lifted her completely from his body.

She squealed with delight and shook like a trapped puppy in his grasp.

“Are you serious?!?” said a scraggy, old lady. Estefan almost laughed like a lunatic when he realized he’d been the one to speak.

She nodded as he held her in the air above him like an infant.

He crushed her to him, tears of his own overflowing from his eyelids, cascading down his face and onto his tunic. “But I thought you didn’t want to have children,” he recalled, restoring her to her earlier position on his lap.

“I didn’t,” she admitted staring him right in the eyes. “But despite all my efforts – contraception, staying away from you when I ovulate, etc. – this time, it hadn’t worked. You knocked me up just the same.” She giggled deep in her throat, squirming on his grasp with utter excitement.

He gazed at her, feeling his love for her pressure his eyes, fill his chest. My Leda, my Leda, my Leda, was all he could think as he peered into her eyes and saw nothing but exultation. It was amazing.

He had never seen Leda rejoice. He had never seen elation and rapture joined as one within his petite wife. It made her shine like the sun. He could see her newfound corona and it burned with the luminosity of one million degrees. She was so beautiful in that moment. She was perfect. His heart felt as though it would burst at any second. He reached out for her, holding her with a light touch at either side of her face.

Her expression focused on him.

“I love you, Leda,” he said, his voice a husky mess.

“I love you too.”

They held each other for a long, long time. Somewhere in the midst of the kissing and the caressing, Estefan had a wondrous thought. This child would be his one hundred and sixty-third, the thirty-seventh born to him by the Synod itself. But, it would be his first with Leda and that was what made it unique. He never thought she would want to bear him a child. Whether by accident or fate, they’d made a baby, and the idea thrilled her!

A moment later, he leaned toward her and touched her forehead to his. “It’ll be nice to hear to patter of tiny feet, my love. It’s been eight years, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” concurred his wife. “I only hope little Patricia doesn’t take it too hard, now that she’ll be dethroned.”

They both laughed aloud at the thought, because Patricia was a notorious Daddy’s girl.

“Well, if it’s a little brother, she might not make too much of a fuss.”

“But if it’s a baby girl…,” added Leda, her eyebrows rising.

“Oh man, we might all be in trouble.” Estefan chuckled.

They held each other for a long time. Then, as if by some unsaid signal, they got up. They made their way to the bed and undressed one another, one garment at a time, wanting their nakedness to flower into being. Their lovemaking was just slow and languorous, their words soft and subdued. When they climaxed together, they made little sound. Instead, their tears flowed once more and they held one another for hours and hours.

Baby Alejandro’s conception had been a mere three and a half weeks in the past, but his birth would change everything – forever.