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In space, no one can hear you scream. Oh, if only that were true. Capt. James Davison groaned, rolling and smothering himself with a pillow. It did very little to drown out the noise filtering in from the hall. The shrieking giggles and pounding feet would normally make him grin. Perhaps even rush out and claim the morning's willing victim. Right now, he had a truly awe-inspiring hangover. He reached toward his nightstand blindly, fumbling for the pills that would cure the incessant throbbing in his head. They weren't there. Frowning--and immediately regretting the decision--he sat up, letting the pillow fall from his face. Damn, he really had trashed this place last night. Makeshift bottles of alcohol--empty, of course--dotted the not-quite-spacious captain's chambers. His uniform lay strewn across the floor and spartan furniture. And the pill bottle... "There you are," he muttered. Gritting his teeth, he gingerly grabbed it from the corner where it had rolled. A few pills, swallowed hastily and dry, diminished the ache within seconds. He let out a slow, shaky breath. Slowly lifting himself into a sitting position, he snatched up a nearby dataslate. After a few seconds of loading, he began to thumb through the list of relevant notifications and updates. Most were utterly forgettable--Survey vessel lost after sensor malfunction on lava planet! It could happen to you!--but one headline managed to catch his eye. Colonization voyages planned for Outer Centaurus Arm. Frowning, he opened the link, skimming the information it contained. Lists of stars, planets, and systems scrolled in a seemingly endless list. Unimportant. Unimportant. Unimportant. Un-- There it was. RSGC2. James swore violently, hurling the dataslate across the room. It struck the far wall, screen cracking. Almost immediately, the screen lit with a soft green glow as the device began to repair itself. They were his. That whole system was his--he'd made sure of that. A hundred voyages, maybe more, each one reported as an utter failure. All their wealth, resources, and inhabitants the rightful property of His Majesty, James the First, God-Emperor of the Outer Centaurus Arm. And yet the looters were still coming. Coming to steal what was rightfully his. Back stiffening proudly, he stood. The commotion outside his quarters had died down. Perhaps his girls had heard him fling the dataslate. Or perhaps Janna was simply being nosy again, reading his mood and informing the others. Regardless, it was a timely reminder. He had his place, and so did the rest of the universe. His just happened to be on top. Stripping off his bedclothes, James made his way to the washroom. He'd paid extra from his own pocket to have it expanded, and he had yet to regret the decision. The room was nearly as large as the main quarters, with a bath and shower that could easily fit six. It had on many occasions. He stretched as he walked, stiff muscles loosening much as they always did. During the early years of his voyage, he had gotten used to the toned and athletic body the ship's galley had given him. With the right calories, stimulants, and modified foodstuffs, it took virtually no effort on his part. So it wasn't until he'd visited his first inhabited planet that he'd realized what an unusual specimen he was. Regardless of species, the males quailed before him. And the women... he gave a self-aware grin at the way his body still responded to the memories. They'd practically fought one another to serve as his concubines. He flexed a little, one muscle at a time, to distract himself as he stepped under the stinging hot shower spray. Damn, it felt good to be a god-emperor. And he'd be damned if he was going to let some filthy refugees settle all over one of his planets. When he was eventually satisfied by his hygiene, James stepped from the washroom. His back was still stiff and regal, and the pre-adjusted heat settings had warmed his quarters until they were almost balmy. He dressed quickly, his uniform tight and authoritative as ever. There was something about a stiff collar and epaulettes that most would never understand. You weren't just dressed differently, you were different. With a gentle brush of his hand, James stepped out from his chambers. The main hold was surprisingly spacious, given all the modifications he'd made. Over half had originally held assorted survey equipment--as if anyone actually cared about soil samples. He'd scrapped or sold all but the essentials, often to natives, and in exchange he'd amassed all sorts of treasures. Food, actual alcohol, additional beds, and most importantly... Throughout the chamber, the members of his harem knelt, bowed, or made other culturally significant signs of reverence. He acknowledged them with a faint nod and paternal smile.  "Morning, my dears," he said. A chorus of voices answered him and his grin widened appreciatively. Glancing around, he gave a small frown. "Where's Janna?" he asked. He spotted a hint of jealousy in a few eyes and bit back the urge to explain himself further. She'd been the first to join his makeshift crew, and he suspected a number of his lovers resented her for it. Any attention he paid her was certainly attributed to favoritism; he didn't even need to be psychic to perceive that. It was silent for a second, until Orryhena, his only darkmaw bride, gave a fanged, toothy grin. "Briesheh," she hissed. Certain sounds were impossible for her to enunciate, but they'd grown to understand one another in their own way. Her eyes swelled and her tail writhed a bit as she spoke, eying him hungrily. "Shanna eesha wash sabriesheh." James inclined his head in her direction. Come to think of it, it had been a while.... "Thank you, Orry." He indicated over his shoulder with a thumb. "Clean up if you haven't already, then wait for me. Everyone else is dismissed for now." The darkmaw gave an excited trill, settling back on her haunches. Her tail snaked back and forth, and her eyes were pitch black with eagerness. Around the rest of the hold, sighs and muttered disappointments could be heard. James purposefully ignored both, simply making his way toward the bridge with steady, even strides. Behind him, Orryhena darted into the room, while the rest looked on jealously. Janna was waiting for him in the bridge, seated in the copilot's chair. In her hands, she held a steaming mug of some sweet-smelling, native drink. She passively watched the handful of monitors and viewscreens, most of her attention focused on a gentle, haunting tune playing over the speakers. Glancing back as the door shut behind him, she lifted her mug in a casual greeting. "My lord," she acknowledged, casually. There was a refreshing, almost irreverent familiarity in her tone. None of the others dared speak to him that way. "Anything to report?" he asked, sliding into his seat. Janna shook her head. "Nothing. She's still purring like that darkmaw of yours." He rolled his eyes, swapping a few of the viewscreens with a lazy wave of his hand. "Showoff. You're lucky I like you, or I'd have thrown you out the airlock by now." Unblinking, Janna took a sip of her drink that doubled as a rude gesture. James sighed and she stiffened almost at once, suddenly nervous. "What is it?" she asked. "News," he said. "The damned Survey Corp put C2 on a colonization list. I don't know if they sent someone to follow-up, but for whatever reason they've stopped trusting my reports." Janna shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her gift meant that she could read moods, emotions, and generalities, but the nuances of politics and federal colonization policy were beyond the scope of her abilities. It was a not-so-subtle reminder of who was really in charge. "So what does that mean?" she asked. "It means," he said, staring ahead, unseeing. "That there are thousands of poor, dirty mongrels on their way here right now. They're going to swarm over this system, plant their flags, build their cities, and destroy anything in their way. All of that," he nodded back toward the main hold and its occupants, "is about to become a footnote in some history text." Janna's mouth hung open, her look somewhere between disbelief and horror. "What...what are we going to do?" she demanded. Standing, James leaned over and kissed the top of her head, feeling her flinch a bit in surprise. "We," he said, in a reassuring tone. "Are going to keep this to ourselves. We're going to stay calm and quiet." Struggling to compose herself, Janna nodded. She kept her eyes down, staring toward his knees. "Of course, my lord," she said. "Forgive me." "Naturally. Now, Janna, I want you to keep us on the same course. We have more than enough time to address this situation." Assuming I can think of a way to do it. "Yes, my lord." "I'll send you updated coordinates shortly. I have something to attend to at the moment." "More important than--? Oh. Right." Janna's concern morphed into a scowl. "Go mount your demon-cat. I'll just be here... contemplating the annihilation of my people." James gave a rare grin, mussing her hair affectionately. "Glad we understand one another."

---

By the time James returned to his quarters, Orryhena had already burrowed under the covers of his bed. The lump where she lay curled was petite, and he might have glanced right past had he not invited her. Well, except for the tail that poked from beneath the blankets. That was rather difficult to miss. The appendage was long and slender, ending in a serrated spade that was every bit as dangerous as it looked. Slowly lowering himself to the bed, James cleared his throat. Taking his time, he slowly peeled off his shirt, savoring the slight delay. His hand trailed over the blankets, allowing his fingers to lightly brush the end of Orryhena's tail. Still curled inside her makeshift burrow, the darkmaw shivered visibly. "What have we here?" he murmured. His hand gently wrapped around the stem of her tail, inching its way up. Her skin was utterly hairless and inhumanly smooth, like a fingernail, yet supple. "N-naaa..." she groaned beneath the blanket. Her people were so reliant on their tails that centuries of breeding and modification had left them sensitive to a fault. Though James had yet to test the theory, he had long suspected that with the right stimulation, Orryhena could have climaxed through her tail alone. No time like the present.*** See below for link to full story **This story is continued in the full-length Harem Ship Chronicles.Unfortunately, Amazon deemed this (first) volume too explicit to sell. If you're interested in reading the complete story, there are two options:Buy the whole thing!The complete series (thus far) is still available as a pair of bundles through Amazon. (Individual volumes are also available, but the bundle is substantially cheaper.) Ordinarily, the bundles sell for $3.99, however they will be on sale starting at $0.99 each, beginning the morning of Sunday, January 17th (Volume 1) and January 25th (Volume 2). (Both are on sale all week, though the $0.99 is only available for the first 3 days.) Get Volume One FREE!I'm offering the first volume absolutely free to anyone who joins my mailing list. (No expiration.) This is the complete volume--uncensored and in a handy epub format. If you're the sort of person (like me) who refuses to buy a book without sampling it first, this is your chance. Hate it? You spent 5 minutes and saved yourself a few dollars. Love it? Well, there's 5 more volumes available and 2 more sitting in the publishing queue! Just meh? Keep it, delete it; the choice is yours. My mailing list is *only to notify fans when new stories, whether paid or free, are published. You have my word that I will never, ever send you spam. And if I ever break that promise, feel free to leave 1-star reviews on every one of my books!Thank you so much for reading, and for your support! If you have any questions, issues, or unrelated topics of conversation, please feel free to shoot me a PM.