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The Monster Inside

Posted on Sun Sep 19th, 2021 @ 10:52am by Captain Tan'ato Tejera

Mission: Tempus Fugit
Location: Azure Nebula/Abandoned mining facility
Timeline: MD 7

Pain exploded behind his eyes. He vaguely heard the crunch of his nose. He didn’t care. It only fueled him, his rage, the blood pounding in his ears. He loved it! Oh, how he had missed this, the violence, the rage, the...freedom. Tan’ato Tejera had kept himself caged for so long.

But no more! Back with his mistress, he was free again! Even with his nose broken, he could swear he could still smell her intoxicating scent, the pheromones he had gone so long without. He craved her. The need for Deneia Tejera was physical, in his bones, his blood, his flesh. Nothing else mattered.

Deneia lounged on the comfortable couch at ringside. She was close enough to occasionally be splattered with blood, and close enough that her pheromones could waft over her precious fighter and stoke his rage and devotion. Miluz held a tray of Betazed starfruit, which she delicately placed in her mouth between sips of Rowa’ni nectar.

“Your boy is holding his own,” said the Cardassian sitting beside Deneia’s chaise lounge. Hacar’s tone sounded a bit tight.

“Yes,” Deneia said. “I was afraid Starfleet would have made Tan soft, but no, this is the beautiful boy I remember,” the Orion woman said with a self-satisfied sigh. “He was always such a fighter -- and a lover. Anything to please me.” She glanced at Hacar. “You were the one who suggested a gambling bout,” she reminded.

“He’s already bested two of my best fighters,” Hacar said. “I’m losing money on this.”

“That is the nature of wagering,” Deneia pointed out with a chuckle, sipping her nectar.

The Reman in the ring with Tan’ato was also bloodied, his green blood staining his shirtless chest as Tan’s orange blood stained his. Tan was impressed. The Reman was lasting longer in this bout than the Klingon had last bout. They closed again. The Reman slammed his forehead into Tan’ato’s broken nose, but Tan just grunted as they grappled. Then he felt intense agony explode in his brain. He roared in pain. Gods be damned! Telepaths!

Tan’s rage boiled, filling his consciousness as they grappled, the Reman gaining the upper hand with his mental attack. But the rage fueled Tan. Power surged through his straining muscles. The rage pushed aside the mental assault. Tan knew nothing but the rage, the desire to hurt, to kill. The Reman’s eyes widened in shock as his mental attack was sloughed off, and the Orion bent him backward.

The fighters separated, and Tan’ato charged in, his massive arms swinging. Stupendous hammer blows battered the Reman’s body, cracking ribs, connected with his head, shattering the alien’s jaw, cratering a temple. The Reman tried to grapple, to gain some respite by closing in. Tan took the fight to the floor, reversing behind his opponent, legs locked around the Reman’s body, tree trunk sized arm wrapping the alien’s neck, squeezing. The Reman gasped. He tried to tap out.

Tan’ato held the hold, grinning maniacally. Joy surged through him. This is what he was for! He ignored the tap out. With a surge of power, Tan jerked, his biceps swelling to twice their size in his incredible strength. He felt more than heard the sound of the neck snapping; the Reman’s head ripped free, showering Tan in a shower of hot blood as the arteries in the neck sprayed. He turned his face into the deluge, eyes closed in rapture. Yes. This was what he was for.

Tan stood, holding the Reman’s head high. The crowd roared in approval, applauding, as Tan’ato stepped down to the chaise lounge where Deneia relaxed. The Orion woman smiled at him and stood as he reached them.

“My champion,” Deneia purred, cupping Tan’s face. She leaned in and kissed him, her tongue licking at some of the blood covering his face. “Tonight, you will be well rewarded,” she promised with a sultry innuendo.

Hacar Ghirla looked disgusted, shaking his head. “No more,” he said. “Clean this up.” He gestured to some of his people and then the bloody ring. “That’s two fighters you’ve cost me. Let’s go to my office and talk business.”

Deneia smiled. “Of course.” She turned to follow the Cardassian, and Tan’ato fell in behind her, with the other Orions following, until Ghirla stopped.

“Get him cleaned up. I don’t need my carpets ruined.”

Deneia nodded to Zexysi. The younger Orion woman took Tan’ato’s hand and led him to the back rooms where the fighters were kept. “Better?” Deneia asked Hacar as they entered is spare office. Milusz and Tinsero were the typical large Orion specimen, but neither was as large or intimidating as her prize. That was an obvious move by Hacar.

“I have something valuable to sell, and I think you can find the buyers for me,” Deneia said, draping her half-naked form in the chair opposite Hacar’s desk. “Two hundred kilounits of ryetalin.”

Hacar gave a low whistle as he poured them both glasses of kanar. “That is a lot of latinum.”

“And you can get me this latinum?”

Hacar sipped his kanar. “It will take time,” he said. “Selling in the Federation will be impossible,” he admitted. “But Romulans and Klingons both also get Rigellian fever. It’s rare, expensive, and time consuming to make. And even the Federation might be willing to bargain for it, given the right emergency.”

Deneia smiled. “I thought so,” she said.

“It will take time,” Hacar reminded her.

“Time is what I have a lot of right now,” Deneia told him, lifting her glass.


Stripped down naked, Tan’ato stepped against the duracrete wall as Zexyshi picked up the power hose. The sting of the water was painful as it slammed into him, the water cold, but he made no complaints. The rage was fading. His injuries were starting to throb with pain, his muscles becoming lethargic, and he slumped wearily against the wall as the young Orion woman sprayed the blood from his body. The cold water helped clear his head faster. He held up his massive hands, staring at them, nails stained with green Reman blood. What had he done? His mind tried to work through the brain fog.

The water stopped, leaving him dripping. “Come here,” Zexyshi said. She had the firm tone of command of most Orion females, but why did Tan think her heart wasn’t really in it. But he obeyed. It would not pay to disobey a female.

Zexyshi gestured to the bench and took a med kit down from the wall, opening it and rifling the contents. Her scent was different, not as strong, but the pulse of obedience in him still wished to obey her, to please the younger Orion female.

“What…” Tan’s voice rasped. His throat hurt. Had he taken a punch there? “What...happened?”

“You won,” Zexyshi said, pulling out a small medical tricorder and scanning him. “Broken nose, bruised throat, cracked ribs, concussion.” She listed off his injuries, shaking her head.

“I...won…” Tan shook his head, trying to clear the confusion. “Mistress Deneia?”

“In a business meeting,” Zexyshi said, pulling out an osteoregenerator. “Let’s work on those ribs. Good thing I know field medicine.”

Tan just nodded as the small Orion slid closer along the bench. The air around him was filled with her scent, her pheromones. She worked quickly and efficiently, then packed up the medical kit, but didn’t move away. She looked up into Tan’s eyes. She had only heard stories of males this far under pheromone control. Some males were born genetically predisposed, and the effect was highly addictive, more like a drug to them than to others. She heard most of them never survived separation from their dominant female. How had this one made it forty years?

“Why are you so special?” Zexyshi wondered aloud, running her hand along the intricately carved scars tattooed over the entirety of his green skin. He was definitely handsome, large, strong, good breeding stock for any matriarch, a fit specimen for a harem.

“Command me,” Tan’ato said. There was almost a pleading tone in his voice.

Zexyshi smirked. She glanced around. They were alone. “Kiss me,” she ordered.

Tan’s strong arms came around Zexyshi in a crushing embrace as his mouth claimed hers. She moaned quietly, running her hands along his massive, muscled chest as their tongues dueled. Her own instincts flared in response to Tan’s much weaker male pheromones, and she felt the effect she had on him growing between them.

They separated, and Zexyshi took several deep breaths to calm herself and clear her own head.

“Command me,” Tan begged.

“I wish,” Zexyshi sighed. “But you belong to Mistress Deneia.” Her finger traced what seemed to be the center point of Tan’ato’s tattooed scars over his heart, the Orion glyphs that marked him as Deneia’s property. “Only she can give permission for me to take you.” She forced herself up, smoothing out the revealing outfit she wore. She gave a wry smile. “I will have to settle for some lesser male more my station,” she admonished him.

Tan’ato’s expression looked grieved, and he made a small bow of obeisance. “I am sorry I do not please you, Mistress.”

“Tch!” Zexyshi said dismissively. She put the command back in her tone. “Dress,” she ordered, indicating a fresh set of loose black pants and a black tank top that would stretch over his massive form. When she was ready, they walked out and rejoined the others as they were exiting Hacar Ghirli’s office.

“We have a deal?” Zexyshi asked Deneia, making her obeisance. She smiled at her brother.

“We do. Your suggestion was a good idea, Zexy,” Deneia said. “You should be rewarded as well.” She smiled. “Why don’t you take Tan tonight. And Milusz. I will have your brother.”

Zexyshi looked at Tinsero with concern. “Yes, Mistress.”

“We have been given quarters for the week while arrangements are made. In the morning, try to find a transport home.”


Word Count: 1660

Captain Tan’ato Tejera
Commanding Officer
USS Nightingale

Deneia Tejera
Orion matriarch and crime lord

Zexysi Inebray
Orion grifter and thief

Tinsero Inebray
Orion hacker

Miluz Tejera
Orion muscle

Hacar Ghirla
Cardassian crime lord


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