Chapter Text
Night time is different in the Terran Protectorate than it once was.
Once, a woman walking alone at night was dangerous. The depredations of men were everywhere, predators looking for prey, and worse, should such a woman be harmed, they would talk of her with disdain.
She was dressed wrong. She was in the wrong place. She should have known better.
Rarely did they say, the world should not be this way. Rarely did they say, it can be better.
But the Protectorate is different. The young lady walking alone at night is perfectly safe.
Because she is not alone. The night has eyes.
She approaches the house. It is not the house she is looking for, but it is hard to tell in the dark. She checks the greek lettering upon it’s wall. She thinks she has the right one. She knocks.
Silence. But a light flicks on and the door opens.
“Hi. Is… is there where the party is at?” she asks, squinting, the light hurting her weak terran eyes.
Vines swarm her so fast, so fast she barely screams, before she is lifted and pulled inside, bound head to toe, the door closing behind her.
You see? Safe.
***
Earlier
Sigma Epsilon Delta had not held a party, not since the fall of Terra, not since the affini came. Greek street was not what it used to be, many of the once bacchanalic frat houses holding parties so regularly as to ensure there was never a dull night. Rivalry there may have been, but united in purpose they were, ensuring intoxicants flowed that young minds seeking escape from the shackles of their academia might rest their scholarly minds and embrace their inner animals in debauch, drinking, smoking, and rutting, brothers and sisters entwined in late hour merriment.
Those same streets once alive with nighttime wanderers were now desolate. Those fortunate Accord members that could afford schooling often came for the purpose of career, of capital, of social station, and seldom the sheer pursuit of knowledge. As capital and capitalism were left utterly slain in the wake of the Affini Compact’s arrival and subsequent takeover, many students returned home, pursued their true interests or lack there of, and for many that no longer involved some pointless course in business or economics or political sciences that no longer held even the slightest relevance. In a week, 70% of the college campus was gone. In a few months, the thirty percent that remained dwindled to only 10% of what it once was. And with this great migration, most of the fraternities and sororities were lost in their wake.
Blake Armiger the 14th had been one of those rare students to remain. President of the local chapter, he was a legacy member, and as such had stayed, his father’s words still echoing in his memory.
“You are an Armiger, and Armiger men lead. You will pledge, you will get in, and you will join the Fraternity of your father, your father’s father, all the way back to Blake Armiger the first. Become President, make friends for life, and secure our future.”
With each chapter of Blake’s life, it had been like that. His father had planned each stage of his development meticulously, from preschool to prepschool, multiple tutors, donations as needed. When he excelled, Blake was given help to excel further; when he stumbled, there was always someone there to catch him. His grades were peerless even when he failed, a stylist grooming him each morning, ensuring that he never appeared anything less than opulently perfect.
Despite a four year degree plan, it had taken him five years to approach graduating, and his education was to continue until he had attained the Presidency, which he had, just in time for the Affini to arrive. He had called home, many many times, and upon finally receiving word back from his father, his advice had been as distant as a cold and pitiless star.
“Son. An Armiger does not retreat. Lead from there. When you graduate proper, I shall see you then.”
So Blake the 14th stayed, with his few remaining brothers, as the world changed overnight. Thankfully, another chapter had messaged him on the nature of the affini, of staying calm, accepting change, being agreeable, well groomed, polite, and responsible. So Blake lead, and the others followed. Morning grooming, breakfast, learning, lunch, exercise, dinner, socialize, shower and sleep.
The conversion of the house to hab was faster than any of them had expected, every detail studied and transferred to the new domicile, only safer, sturdier, easier to clean, higher ceilings and wider hallways, enough to let an affini visitor stand tall. Staying on good behavior, no wellness checks were called, no cries of feralism, a few vine pettings, some small flirtations, but they were ultimately left to their own devices after only a few visits to the vet.
And with all of that in the rearview mirror, Sigma Epsilon Delta finally felt the courage to do what it had not done in months, and throw one rager of a party.
Compilers made supplies and decoration a cinch, home delivery without the hassle of waiting, and they decided on Protectorate Summer as a good theme. Blake set everyone to their usual tasks.
Wynn, the stoner who used to be in charge of obtaining booze and drugs, had thrown himself into learning what he could about Affini pharmacology, figuring out what a hab would and would not make. The full list of drugs was too much to handle, but he’d found some amazing short burst five minute xenodruggy ‘previews’, capable of getting a five minute high before a counteragent autoreleased. Using these previews, Wynn had slowly built a carefully curated collection of party drugs.
Zach was the party animal who went out nearly every night, schmoozing and romancing and dancing, and he knew every bar, frat, sorority, club, and townie who wanted to get down. Finding people was trickier, so many having left, so the net was cast a little wider, a few fliers put up. Nobody had checked the temperature of the post Accord party scene in the neighborhood yet, so it was impossible to know who or how many people would respond.
Dale usually did the heavy lifting and Charlie did the scut work, the strong football player usually lifting up the kegs and Charlie, being the newest, getting stuck doing most of the cleaning, but with the compiler, the physical tasks had become much easier, the mess gone the moment it hit a can, automated drones keeping the floors clean, all the things they need a button press away. So instead, they helped with decorating.
“Okay. Situation has changed, so, reviewing. Unless they give us the most rancid vibes, anyone who wants in, we let in. Floret, affini, xeno we’ve never seen before, we gotta be nice, cause we can’t exclude. You got durataxin and nutrient waters set up?” Blake asked Wynn, who raised his hands up, bowing his head and smiling floorward.
“There is a party here for everyone man. Got a nice couple punch bowls set up on some high shelves, so the affini don’t have to reach down. Sexy plant mommies are set.” Wynn said, grinning too too wide, obviously already pre-gaming something or other. Blake nodded and turned to Zach.
“Any word from Greek Life?” Blake asked, and Zach sighed.
“Just a little. Most of the holdouts are study bugs, they didn’t give much of an answer. Mid summer is always kinda quiet, but it’s crickets out there. Sure some people will show up, but I’d say mid sized at best.” Zach said. It wasn’t a good sign when Zach said things would be quiet, but hopefully they’d at least be able to meet a few people.
“Hab, top twenty pop hits in the Protectorate this month, loop at low volume for now.” Blake said as the music began playing, lights flicked on outside their hab, a big glowing sign reading “Where the Party’s At!” a glorious neon arrow pointing them out. Affini approved smoke machines, surprisingly xeno drug free, turned on, giving off a festive club vibe as lights danced in the windows.
Later
Five minutes in, people began to arrive, in small groups, and it was definitely a different vibe, but not in the alien sense. No affini or floret had arrived, but aside from a few young women from campus, there was a more scattered demographic. Grad students, townies, a professor, it was a far cry from a crowded house of frat brothers and sorority sisters, with a few guests in between, but it was enough.
The music turned up, people began dancing, drinking, smoking, laughing, eating, grinding on the floor, and it got wild. Laws against nudity had disappeared upon the coming of the Compact, and various states of undress had started amongst the deeply soaked in xenodrugs. Zach was making out heavy with a half naked women Blake didn’t recognize, while Wynn’s shirt had disappeared along with his pants, his boxers the last line of modesty. Dale… looked like he’d overdone it. He was a big guy with a strong body, but none of them were really entirely ready for some of the xeno drugs they were allowed to print up at a whim, and since Dale usually took a bit more alcohol to get wasted, he’d overdone it on the xenobooze and was rather sloppily plastered to a couch. Charlie was… currently cornered by two cougars, looking like a deer in the headlights, and this was why Blake always stayed mostly sober when throwing a party.
“Charlie! Hey! Come here, I need your help with something.” Blake said and Charlie’s relief and excitement was palpable.
“Duty calls, enjoy the party!” Charlie said with a big smile as he ducked out and moved quick to Blake. He was a good kid, if a little awkward and naive at times, and Blake clapped him on the back and moved with him away from the situation.
“Thanks, I didn’t know how to extricate myself. Everything good?” Charlie asked, lightly sipping a drink he’d been nursing for well over an hour.
“Everything is fine, but you need to learn a little self assurance. I will not always be there to rescue you and you need to be able to, politely and kindly, let people know you’re not interested.” Blake told Charlie.
“I know. But like, I was thinking… since the affini came, there is a whole lot less saying no, you know? So I wasn’t sure if I should just, like, maybe be open to whatever?” Charlie said with a shrug. Blake intended on having a longer talk with him, but not right now, opting instead to tap his forehead.
“Keep an open mind, but not so open your brain falls out, all right? Chug the rest of that, then go hit the dance floor for a bit, okay?” Blake told him, and Charlie nodded, sputtering a little as he slurped the rest of his cup, tossing it aside before jumping up and dancing into the living room, into smoke, darkness, and pulsing lights.
The door was open at the front, another new face, a young woman looking lost. She had long brown hair, a cream fur jacket, a red cocktail dress, slightly smeared makeup, deep red lips, confusion turning to lust as she locked eyes with Blake. She strode towards him in a straight line, grabbing his shirt, pulling him into a kiss he had not expected, but very much wanted once it started. She was so warm in his arms, soft, needy, and she pulled him to the stairs.
In moments, they had stumbled into his room, clothing disappearing as she tore open his shirt, licked his pecs, red talon like nails tracing down his body. She licked her lips, kissing, nibbling, and it was only as she nibbled that Blake noticed how sharp her teeth were. As she pushed him into the bed, straddling him, he could see her teeth, needle like, long fangs like a vampire. He felt a momentary panic, but his body felt sluggish… heavy… she kissed along his collar bone, until Blake felt the fangs puncture his neck, crying out as liquid fire raced into his veins, lit his mind into a blaze, his body into a sensitive pleasure organ. He began rutting against her, fingers exploring his bed, her body, anything he could, touch, touch was life, wonder, beauty, joy!
Blake vaguely realized he had been drugged as his consciousness slipped below the veil of light to darkness. The crimson woman stood then, entranced, staring at nothing.
“And then you go home, remembering nothing.” she said as she left the room.
Dale, unconscious on the couch.
Zach drooled in a corner in a twilight haze.
Wynn was naked on the floor, colorful visions putting them in another world.
And Charlie danced, unaware, until everyone else at the party suddenly stopped dancing, walking toward the door. He barely had time to react before someone blew a fistful of dust into his face, his A class high taking a sudden burst of intensity as he dropped to the soft floor, so cozy, sleepy.
The guests left as if in a wave, in concert, walking away as the music and lights shut off, leaving the five frat brothers alone in the darkness of their hab, unconscious, but not unwatched.
You see? Safe.