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“Okay. Everyone ready?”
Charlie’s smile was an attempt at the same brand of sunny cheer she typically led their expeditions with, though the dank misery of the narrow cavern they found themselves in was at odds with her pep. It seemed even their faithful captain couldn’t make a stuffy cave inviting.
Vaggie placed a reassuring hand on Charlie’s shoulder through her envirosuit and squeezed. “We’re ready. Don’t worry, we’ll follow your lead. Right, Alastor?”
She cut a sharp glare at him which narrowed at his replying grin. He tapped at the command switch on his wristband, tuning into the voice channel that connected them through their helmets. “Of course. Lead the way, captain.”
He bowed low to Charlie, gesturing to the high, gilded door, at odds with the craggy rock and dripping stalagmites of their surroundings.
The planet they stood on was one big, floating gas ball of mystery, uncharted in public records. Seemingly isolated and independent, all recent attempts at contact had been met with increasingly flirtatious rejection messages.
We didn’t realise everyone wanted a piece of this angel cake. No sweets for you nasties.
You wanna CUM meet us so bad, huh?
You keep knocking on our door, we’re gonna have to punish you. Hard.
Every missive was a scan of a hand-written letter, the words scrawled in glittery scarlet ink on scrolls of dark silk. Alastor had spent quite a few hours examining those scans on the flight over, feet casually propped up on the Hazbin’s control panel while Husk and Niffty played cards.
Indeed, all attempts at first contact had been rebuffed…until Captain Charlie Morningstar.
Why exactly this crew was granted clearance was unknown. Alastor’s curiosity was aroused enough to surprise everyone and volunteer as third for the landing crew of the diplomatic mission.
Diplomacy was the order of the day; invasion talks on hold pending further investigation, as was always Charlie’s way. Nothing suggested the inhabitants were hostile; merely antisocial. The lack of obvious resources, coupled with a noxious atmosphere, meant there was little to tempt visitors to the mysterious planet. The crew had been cautious as they descended through the bright fuchsia clouds swirling in the planet’s atmosphere, navigating to the coordinates sent to their systems.
Most of the exposed surface was uninhabitable, covered in dense foliage and infested with hissing, skittering creatures lurking among the swampy land. Civilization was therefore limited to the subterraneous. Accordingly, the coordinates led them to land at the mouth of a yawning cave, the treacherous tunnel, and the ornate door before them.
Presently, Charlie mustered up her courage, squaring her shoulders and sucking in a deep breath, trying for all the world to look like the dignified politician her mother had been known to be. She raised her fist to the large door, bending her wrist back to knock, but before her knuckles could touch the smooth metal, the doors suddenly swung inwards. Charlie staggered, Vaggie rushing to her side as two pale figures stepped into view, each one holding a side of the doors.
“We’ve been expecting you,” they chorused, bobbing heads topped with soft white hair and fuzzy antennae. Straightening up, they stared at Alastor with pupilless pink eyes and flashed serrated grins. “Please, enter.”
Alastor returned the gesture with a sharp-toothed grin of his own. “We would be delighted to. Captain?”
“R-Right!” Charlie hurried to straighten up, out of Vaggie’s grip and nodded to their ushers. “We’re ready. Take us to your leader.”
Alastor pinched his brow but said nothing as their hosts led through the doors and up grand staircase of plated gold. He raised an eyebrow at the lavishness on display around them: ornate torches set on walls that quickly morphed from raw rock to polished marble. Pots of fine metal held bioluminescent plants casting neon glows across clusters of vines, woven through with chains of silver and dotted with blooming flowers. Butterflies the size of Alastor’s head fluttered from bud to bulb, their wings like bright, gauzy petals. Such decorations were uncommon for isolated planets. Perhaps the décor was for the sake of visitors? That, or the ruling party of this planet had a crow-like interest in pretty things.
They finally crested the top of the stairs, stepping into a wide cavern. The curved walls rose to a large, organic bulb that hung in the centre of the marble ceiling, glowing lights pulsing against the pink membranous film. More pale, insectoid creatures poked their fuzzy heads out of alcoves dug into the decorated walls to stare at the three of them, all with the same blank, magenta eyes, wide and bulbous as hard-boiled eggs. Everything in the room was angled to face Every alcove pointed to the middle of the chamber where a platform canopied with gauze of pink and silver hid its inhabitant, shielding the figure within from view.
The sugary, floral scent Alastor had detected in the cave seeped through his helmet’s filter, making him salivate. A simple perfume? Or something more insidious?
He didn’t have much time to ponder the question as their guides halted at the ramp leading up to the raised platform.
“Your guests have arrived, my queen,” they intoned together, bowing so low the tips of their antennae kissed the polished floor.
A figure arose within the gauzy canopy, giving shape to a long, spindly silhouette. A pale hand emerged from between the curtains. Then another.
And another.
And another.
Alastor blinked as the curtains drew back and he beheld the ‘Queen’ of the hive.
“His Majesty,” the twin guides sighed dreamily, “Our illustrious Angel Dust.”
A man—a beautiful, graceful man, but definitely a man—strutted to the edge of the platform, peering down at their little party with eight glowing eyes fixed into a face covered with soft, white fur. He wore a fine silver dress, interwoven with gold in cobwebbed patterns. He stood at an impressive height, boosted by the heeled sandals strapped to his feet, long limbs swaying as he paced along the edge of the marble lip, a red cape fringed with patterned fur fluttering from his back. Alastor caught himself staring at the splendour before him, a vision of light and gold.
“Well, well. Whatta we have here?” The vision in front of them, Queen Angel Dust, sang, his voice tinged with a heavy accent. “You the ones that’ve been sendin’ me all that fan mail?”
All had gone quiet as he spoke, the entire chamber leaning forward to eagerly catch his every word.
Charlie blinked, shaking her head and breaking out of whatever trance this spider queen had put her under. “Um, yes. That was us. Not really fan mail, per se. More like, a peaceful olive branch of galactic camaraderie, reaching out to our fellow-“
“Yawn!” The alien queen tipped his head back and tapped his fingers to his mouth, bangles and bracelets jingling on his wrists. The aliens all started chittering, leaning over their balconies and flashing glowing eyes, baring fangs at these guests who dared bore their ruler. The queen smirked at this reaction, spinning on his heel and turning an imperious look down on the group. “Don’t tell me this is all ya came to offer? ‘Cause if so, I’m gonna be very disappointed, and I don’t think you wanna see me when I’m-“
He broke off his spiel as his eyes swept over Charlie and Vaggie and landed on Alastor. Alastor’s ears twitched to attention, the hairs along the nape of his neck prickling as that heavy gaze settled over him. He kept his posture straight, his hands folded behind his back, refusing to look away or bow his head like one of the spineless sycophants around them.
This queen could play the part of the hunter, but Alastor refused to take the role of prey.
Charlie, who had been fidgeting nervously all through Angel Dust’s speech, whipped her head back and forth between their gracious host and Alastor. Tapping at her control band, she whispered into their line, “Alastor? Please tell me you haven’t been alien mind-controlled or something?”
Alastor answered, still keeping his eyes locked on the queen, “I’m perfectly alright, Captain.”
Up on his pedestal, Angel Dust tipped his head to the side and hummed, a playful pout pulling at his pretty face. “What’s this? Havin’ a private conversation? Without me? I’m crushed.”
He let out a dramatic sigh and turned his face into the furry neck of his cape. A chorus of sympathetic coos went up from the audience, the insectoid subjects clasping their hands together and fainting against the bannisters in dramatic swoons.
Alastor didn’t miss the sliver of a grin visible in the corner of Angel Dust’s mouth.
Vaggie stepped forward then, holding her hands beseechingly. “Your Majesty, we came here because we wanted to talk to you about the state of your planet within the galaxy’s-“
Angel Dust snapped back to his full, imposing height, one arm lashing out to hold up a silencing finger at her. Vaggie’s mouth clamped shut instantly, and he smiled.
“Sure, I’ll talk,” Angel Dust began conversationally, twirling one of the silk ribbons of his gown around his finger. With a wolfish grin, he added, “But only to the cutie in the back.”
All heads instantly swerved to look at Alastor. A complicated display of emotions was playing out across Charlie’s face as he stared back at her: horror, desperation, relief, but most of all, entreaty.
Alastor peeled his gaze away from Charlie and back up to the alien queen, who was arching an eyebrow at him in challenge. Alastor recognised when someone had thrown down a gauntlet, and so he bent over to pick it up in kind by releasing the pressure lock on his helmet and retracted it back into his envirosuit. Charlie let out a choked gasp as he shook his hair out and smiled back at Angel Dust.
“It would be my pleasure,” he replied.
There was a rustle of fabric as Angel Dust pulled the gauzy curtain at Alastor’s back shut.
“Here,” the dulcet voice purred into Alastor’s ear. “Lemme help you outta that ugly suit. I want you nice and comfy.”
Hands ran up Alastor’s sides and over the narrow slope of his shoulders. Without his helmet on, the sweet, floral scent he’d only caught small whiffs of before was so strong a lesser creature would’ve fallen to his knees by now. Luckily for him—and perhaps unfortunately for the queen—Alastor was not one such creature.
“You’re too kind, your Majesty,” Alastor said as Angel Dust’s many hands fiddled with the clasp of his envirosuit at the nape of his neck. “But I wouldn’t want you to go exerting yourself on my behalf.”
He promptly fell into a pool of shadows, his suit collapsing to the ground without a body to fill it out. Angel Dust yelped and jumped back as Alastor slithered free, rematerializing a few feet away. He took the moment to examine his nails, savouring the startled expression on the queen’s face.
Good. He needed to know he didn’t hold all the cards here. Alastor still had a few tucked up his sleeve.
Flicking his gaze around the space, Alastor wrinkled his nose. “Apologies, your Highness, but I thought we would have this little talk…alone.”
Several bodies were clustered around the large, circular bed that served as the centrepiece of their little tent. These beings—servants? Thralls? Slaves?—fawned over Angel Dust, scurrying after him as he strolled towards the bed, fanning him with large, speckled leaves, and offering bowls of berries. Angel Dust plucked one and tossed it into his mouth, chewing behind his hand.
“Oh, don’t mind them,” he said with a careless gesture in the direction of the obsequious aliens. “They won’t say nothin’. Not unless I ask ‘em to. Right, Val?”
An exceptionally tall male wearing nothing but a black leather thong lifted his head to blink dazed, red eyes up at his queen. He was kneeling on a cushion and unfolded his long legs to crawl towards Angel Dust with a look of fevered adoration written across his face. His progress was abruptly halted when a chain connecting his collar to a leg of the bed went taut.
He winced and nodded, antennae bobbing. “That’s right, my queen.”
Angel Dust hummed a laugh, delivering a light slap to Val’s cheek before throwing himself down on the bed. He bounced on the mattress before coming to rest on his side, positioning his long limbs in what Alastor was sure was meant to be an enticing display.
“So, whatta I call ya, handsome?” Angel asked, swiping at some of the pink berry juice still clinging to his lip, then sucking it from the tip of his finger. With a grin, he added, “Aside from mine.”
Alastor did not dignify this with a response, instead lowering himself to sit primly on the edge of the bed. It felt rather thrilling to be this close to the spider queen, who oozed allure and danger. Alastor had always liked danger. So much more exciting than safety.
“Alastor,” he replied evenly.
“Alastor,” Angel Dust echoed, tipping his head to the side like he was rolling Alastor’s name around in his mouth to see if he liked the taste. “Okay then, Alastor. What’s a big, strong guy like you doin’ in a place like this?”
Though his posture was languid, his chin propped up on one fist, and legs loosely crossed at the ankles, Alastor didn’t miss the shrewd look in his many eyes. He decided then that the best course of action wouldn’t be to stop beating around the bush, but to rip the bush up by the roots and remove it entirely.
“The mission is one of brokering peace and communication,” he explained, facing the queen head on. “But I want to know why you accepted Charlie Morningstar’s message when all others had been rebuffed.”
Angel Dust took his time answering. He toyed with the red silk of his cape that Alastor was beginning to suspect wasn’t simple fabric but something biological if the shining insectoid scales along the outer lining were to be noted.
Eventually, he replied with a shrug. “I saw her lil’ galaxy-wide commercial about buildin’ alliances and makin’ a better future. We get cable out here too, yanno. When I saw she’d sent us a letter, I figured it’d be worth a few laughs. I definitely didn’t think she’d bring along a tasty lil’ snack like you.”
He rolled over, pushing himself up onto hands and knees so he could prowl across the sheets to Alastor, who refused to budge, even when the swell of fur spilling out of Angel Dust’s neckline was inches from smothering his face. Angel trailed a sharp finger up Alastor’s torso, over the thin textile of his undersuit, pausing at the base of his throat.
“You’re like nothin’ I ever seen before,” Angel Dust said, eyes boring into Alastor’s. “Most fuckers that’d been breathin’ in my scent this long woulda been throwin’ themselves at my feet by now, but not you.”
It was gratifying to know that Alastor had successfully hidden his true reaction to the tantalising scent. He wondered if Angel Dust would be upset to know that instead of inspiring the desire to prostrate himself in subjugation, Alastor wanted to know if the alien queen tasted as delectable as he smelled. Would he object to Alastor pushing that long body of his down onto the bed, baring the elegant column of his neck and sinking his teeth into tender flesh to-?
“Lotta folks would give just about anythin’ to be this close to me,” Angel mused, easing back a fraction to flick a glance over his shoulder. “Aint that right, Val?”
From his spot at the foot of the bed, Val nodded vigorously. “Yes, my queen.”
He raised a hand to prod at some scars ringing his neck and shoulders, a blank look falling over his features.
Angel Dust stroked the furred collar of his cape in kind before turning his attention back on Alastor, who smiled wide.
It was unwise to tango with a creature such as this, Alastor knew. He’d somehow managed to work an entire planet under his thrall through a combination of mind-altering pheromones, his hypnotic gaze, and natural charisma. But then, Alastor had already broken several core rules of entering unknown alien territory that day—Never take off your envirosuit. Never split off from your crew. Never be alone with a strange alien—so what was one more to add to the list?
He could sense, behind the lustre and hedonism of this empire Angel had built, he was mind-numbingly bored. Bored or power and subjugation tossed his way without a second thought. Bored of the predictability that came with living unchallenged. Alastor could relate to such sentiments. Once one had risen to the top of their crop, there was very little left to do. It was why when he, too, had seen Charlie’s commercial, he’d come knocking.
“I think,” Alastor said, voice dipping an octave as he reached across to bed to grasp one of Angel’s hands, “that his Grace and I have rather more in common than I’d first thought.”
Angel’s eyes locked on Alastor’s fingers curled around his own. He wet his lips before replying. “That right?”
Alastor hummed as he raised that hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against the bejewelled knuckles. “Yes. Perhaps we could explore that more over talks of peace with my captain?”
Angel Dust didn’t withdraw his hand from Alastor’s grip right away. He held his gaze, that hypnotic pink pulsing across his many eyes as intwined his fingers with Alastor’s and smiled a long, creeping smile across the diameter of his face.
“Alright,” he said, settling onto the silk sheets. “Let’s talk.”