“4” was sitting in her quarters, the massive screens embedded in the walls providing her the illusion of being back on Syla. She was actually writing a letter by hand, a rarity indeed by Human standards, and as I watched on the primary monitor, I wondered what she was writing. The decorative flourishes at the top and bottom of the paper were pretty, and it almost seemed wrong and immoral to interrupt the woman writing against the backdrop of a Sylan three-star sunset.

Nonetheless, I entered the command into my console, then donned the mask.

It took her perhaps thirty seconds to begin to react. At first, it was just a yawn, which in itself should have been a sign given that some ten minutes earlier, she had finished drinking a mug of rather strong coffee. That was followed by the steady motion of her pen across the page starting to falter, her writing pace slowing quickly. Soon, her head bobbed forward and snapped upward as she showed one of the hidden cameras a concerned expression.

By this time, my equipment was fully secured and functioning properly. All the gauges on the HUD showed proper readings. My partner gave me a thumbs-up sign, indicating that his HUD showed proper readings as well. We both turned our attention back to the primary monitor just as she realized what was happening, just as she was beginning to panic. It was interesting indeed to watch her try to flee the room, but get no further than two meters from where she had been sitting before she collapsed to the floor, still alive but with her limbs no longer responding to the commands issued from her brain.

Her collapse was our cue. As one, we turned to the door, barely needing to pause to allow it to sense our presence and slide open. We made our way through the network of corridors and doors – most coded – to finally arrive outside her quarters.

As my partner entered the Master Override code, I remembered when “4” had first been brought to the compound. Not only had it been her first trip into space since hers was a technologically-challenged people, it had also been her first time outside her all-female environment. Syla had been her home for some twenty-four Earth years, and she had never even seen a male of any species until other members of my team had penetrated the worm hole and obtained her and dozens of her sisters.

My role was to befriend her, attempt to teach her my language and learn hers, and then begin to learn each other’s cultures. My overall mission was to obtain information which would help our scientists to understand exactly how an entire solar system could exist in which nothing male was ever birthed or hatched, and that information could help our scientists to create some sort of weapon which would bring other civilizations to their knees and make our galactic conquest much easier. Everyone at the compound knew that it would be a long process, which was why nearly forty of her sisters were also obtained in the raids, in the hopes that some would “give us information” faster than the others.

The Master Override code entered, we waited, yet the door did not slide open. He entered the code again, and we waited.

Still the door did not slide open.

I was a little disappointed on a personal level. She – I still had not been able to understand her name – was intensely beautiful. In essence, she was a walking talking pheromone. Other than the small halo of low horns which barely peeked up from the crown of her head and the piercing violet eyes, she looked just like a Human female.

Our job on this particular “evening” was to check if she reacted sexually like a Human female. After all, when a society is comprised of a single sex, the sexual anatomy may not function an outsider to that society might suspect.

I was not particularly looking forward to this assignment. I had somewhat befriended this Sylan, and while I was certainly attracted to “4” and sometimes dreamed of making love to her, I did not want to be part of this. Fortunately, my superiors agreed with me that for her first time, the gas was a smart idea.

My partner tried one last time, and then – somehow, miraculously – the door slid open. The gas could not be seen, but my HUD showed its presence in high volume in the air of her quarters. By this time, she should have inhaled enough to be knocked unconscious, which was exactly what I wanted.

She was sprawled on the floor, in the same position as when I had last seen her on the primary monitor. Her nostrils twitched and I thought I saw a finger flex subtly, so I knew that she was still alive. My partner had drawn a weapon from his belt and had it trained on her, ready for anything and everything.

I took a deep breath, thankful for the mask which enabled me to do so without fear of suffering her fate. Slowly, I approached her, wary, ready to leap back if necessary, especially since I purposely was unarmed for this assignment.

My weapon would be my sperm.

Slowly, cautiously, carefully, I knelt beside the prone alien. The tall stiff collar hid the small ridges which I knew were at the back of her neck. The long flowing garment had bunched up a bit, displaying much of her lower legs, her slipper-like footwear having come off between the start of her panic and her collapse to the thick carpet.

As gracefully as possible, I rolled “4” to her back, her arms flopping as I moved her. One arm was draped across her lower ribs, which naturally drew my eyes to her chest. Her breasts were the smallest of all those we had abducted, yet they still made a noticeable pair of swells atop her chest. I purposely checked, and they did rise and fall – far more slowly than usual because of the gas in the air and in her lungs. It made me hesitate for a moment, considering the statistical chances that another planet could be so very much like Earth with the exception of the three suns and the fact that not a single male of any species existed normally in Syla’s solar system.

With care and perhaps with a hint of affection, I slid my arms beneath the foreign woman and picked her up, rising to my feet and making my way to the bed. Her long magenta strands shimmied beneath her head as I crossed her quarters, acutely aware of my partner’s weapon at the ready. My own breathing sounded somewhat loud in my ears, my breaths trapped within the mask which kept me conscious and calm, the bulk of the mechanisms which purified the incoming air weighing heavily at the back of my neck. Glancing down at the beautiful alien in my arms, I wanted to share this technological gift with her, to allow her to return to consciousness, but it would be at my own peril, for I would succumb to the gas, and my ultra loyalist partner would certainly not hesitate to turn his weapon on me.

I settled her upon the low bed, touching her as long as possible without arousing any suspicions either from my partner or from those monitoring before I finally stepped away.

“Proceed,” I heard from the mask’s small speaker near my right ear.

Saying nothing, I simply nodded, looking to my partner. The perfect professional soldier, he had taken a crouching position beside a dresser, weapon ready. I knew that he was a near-perfect marksman at a full kilometer, so the incredibly short distance from one end of the quarters to another was an absolute guarantee of a kills hot if he felt the need to fire. I wished I could have seen into his eyes, but that was not possible, for the gas masks allowed the wearer to see out but no one to see in.

That would make things all the more terrifying for “4” if she were to somehow regain consciousness. However, I had been informed that several of her sisters had been gassed previously, and none of them had returned to any semblance of alertness for hours.

Hours would be far more than I needed. Hours would be enough for most of our squad to each enjoy some less-than-quality time with her.

I thought of the last time I had enjoyed a woman’s body. She and I had both been somewhat drunk, and we stumbled into the elevator, but instead of pressing the button for the ground floor, we apparently pressed the button for the top floor, for we ended up on the roof. We were high above the street below, so high that we could barely hear the ever-present traffic, and she simply said, “Right here,” and we stripped as she leaned against the heavy fence at the edge of the roof, screaming in a way I had never heard before as we used each other in the darkness, the lights from the many buildings of the city seeming to wink in amusement as our exhibitionism.

This would be another exhibitionist performance, and this time, I definitely knew that I had an audience.

Dropping to a knee, I untied the laces of a boot. I knew exactly where the hidden cameras were placed, and I looked up at the one which I knew gave anyone watching a prime view of the bed. Whoever was monitoring would have a perfect view of my joining with “4,” and would probably be quite pleased to witness my sperm seeping from her body after my conquest was completed.

“Conquest” was indeed the best word here, for there was nothing even remotely approaching a genuine mutual interest in sex. Even worse, my plundering of her body would also mark a new era in Humanity’s conquest over the other races of the universe. “Impregnate the women and hold them captive until they give birth, and keep doing it over time, and their soldiers will ultimately lose heart and negotiate an end to the fighting,” General Crimson had told us once at a massive assembly, and he would know, for he had overseen several such efforts over the three decades of his career.

I definitely did not want to plunder her – not even to quell my most primal urges, and certainly not for Humanity.

Yet, here I was, about to make use of an alien woman, just as General Crimson had overseen and perhaps had even done himself over the decades.

Theirs not to reason why
Theirs but to do and die

I felt like a pawn, which made me exactly like the person gassed into unconsciousness before me. As I shifted to my other knee to untie the laces of my right boot, I tried to separate from myself, allowing my body to carry out my orders while my mind fled to cringe and cry.

Yet, it simply was not possible. My mind was very much a part of my undressing, of my mounting the bed, of my tearing open the beautiful clothing, of my prying apart the well-exercised thighs, of my stroking of myself, of my slow entry into a body which was not at all ready, of my repeated thrusts which increased in speed and violence as my primal need recognized that it was about to be sated. I was a pawn, of the military and of my own body.

Unlike that night on a rooftop on another planet, I restrained my voice to a series of low primal growls as I completed the first step of the military’s conquest of the Sylan people, beginning with “4.” Fortunately, she remained unconscious through it all, her body having slowly lubricated her sex just enough to prevent any damage, but definitely not enough to indicate arousal or desire.

This time, however, I did not get any enjoyment from seeing my semen emerging from a woman. As I regained my breath, I dressed quickly, wanting only to run away from this unfortunate moment in my life, this unfortunate moment in Human history. Human/Sylan relations had just taken a turn for the worst, and I could only hope that – somehow, eventually – “4” could possibly forgive me for doing my duty.

It took me several days to finally be able to sit and watch the recordings of that fateful event. The panic “4” had experienced as she began to lose consciousness was nothing compared with the fury of the sullied woman who regained alertness. Even after several hours of tearing apart her quarters and lashing out at thin air with blades or other weapons she did not have, her rage had still been going strong, ending only when she was gassed yet again.

…and when my partner and I had changed roles before she was destroyed while fortunately still unconscious.

At least I have my memories of her: memories of her beauty, of her soft angelic voice, of her piercing violet eyes. While I remember my role in leading her to her doom, it is the mundane memories of “4” which I keep locked in my heart to treasure as the conquest of Syla escalates and as hundreds of my brothers enact the same fate on thousands of her sisters.

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