Page 64 of The Commander

Cara didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t understand. She thought it was some weird thing stolen from a museum. Paper money, credit, all the monetary things of the past had no value at all now, but humans still collected and traded for pretty things as if they couldn’t help themselves. A pretty knife with a good blade was highly tradable.

“It’s just a knife. It doesn’t do anything, does it?”

“The value is in the prime who owns it. The prime battler is valuable to our leaders, sent out to subdue, sort, and enforce. The last warriors of our kind.”

“What about the red hat guys?”

“They cannot hold the shape of a decent fighting force inside of a paper bag. The Sarrian Houses need us. Desperately.”

“I don’t understand what a metal weapon has to do with the last warriors.”

“The name day blade is a symbol of when all prime battlers fought together as one force to subdue our home planet for the great onyx goddess who birthed us into being,” he answered patiently. “That is the legacy that sings to our blood. Born to hunt. To chase. To fight. To win or die trying.”

He sounded sincere, as if he were born to kill shit and would rather die than stop. Couldn’t stop. He unwrapped himself from her, stood, and left the room; and when he returned, he wore a belt with one blade slipped into it and another in his hand.

She saw the difference between them when he held them out. One was the blade Brenda had given her, with the spiked prongs around the top she’d had a rag wrapped around, and the other had a large clear jewel that looked suspiciously like a giant diamond, surrounded by smoky smaller triangles, a curved point, and a serrated edge on one side, with a smooth sharp edge on the other.

It was the one he’d used to cut the ropes the muzzle heads tied her with.

“Control uses the blades to unite us, to remind us of who we were and who we can be. They manipulate us with a faith that no longer exists. Our purpose, our goddess, is silent. Or never existed, and we are the soulless products of our evolution. It is why I left the planet with others of my kind. I’ll never go back.”

The pronouncement was very dark, both sad and bitter. His eyes glittered with a cold, flinty anger. He put his own blade back. “Once a battler earns his blade, he can always find it. It is always with him. And Control is never without his service.”

He hadn’t taken it when he chased her in the woods, she wanted to say, in spite of the seriousness of the conversation. But he also hadn’t taken his belt, his shoes, or clothes.

Cara tried to take in what he was trying to tell her. She touched the back of his hand. He immediately flipped his and grasped hold of hers. “Those who carry a blade lead the red hats and subdue planets, making them safe and habitable again.”

She had to frown at that. This was safe and habitable. For whom? Were the aliens going to come here and live?

He tapped the frown on her lips with his free hand. “Safe for everyone. We are not colonizers. We are resource gatherers. Our planet is old. Yours was ruined. Can you say we did not help you? We have been coming here for years. Many years, letting you live your lives. All we had to do was wait.”

How did they get here from his questions about Andy’s knife? “What are you telling me?”

“It is an automatic death sentence for anyone to touch that blade. But also, since a battler is never without his blade and you were found with it, your death will be slow and painful, recorded, and distributed for all to see.”

Cara tried to hold his gaze. Was he going to kill her after all?

“I will kill them all before they make you shed a single tear,” he said with relish, his long tongue coming out to lick his lips. She wouldn’t be surprised if that were the excuse to fully unleash himself that he craved.

It was another one of his vows, meant with every fiber of his being. This alien male would stand between her and whatever came her way, no questions asked. That was a lot to take in. Cara didn’t know where to put her eyes, unable to meet such raw devotion.

“A mate has a special status among the prime battlers. You are rare. The only means of producing more battlers. I never expected to find one like you.”

The words were so tender, she couldn’t find anything to say back. Her own feelings were too big to be real. She didn’t understand the ‘mate’ thing. Sex didn’t equal a relationship. She’d seen enough people hop bed partners that she couldn’t believe in his big promises, and she couldn’t admit to anything in return.

Saying stuff like that out loud made it real.

“You have made me pathetic,” he tapped her nose. Then, for some reason, he glanced away, as if surprised at himself and embarrassed by it.

Did his skin flush a darker shade? Was that a blush? She’d have to pay more attention if so. “Pathetic? How have I made you pathetic?”

He rumbled, purposely grumbling his answer so that she couldn’t understand it.

“What?”

“That doesn’t matter right now.” He waved his hand as if to brush away her questions. “What I am telling you is that I have cultivated enemies who need no motivation for my misery. I’ve been trying to give them a reason for a fight these last five years, hoping to draw them out of their boreholes and initiate a battle of value. This life would be better off without certain worms wearing the badge of Control.”

Cara yawned. She covered her mouth, trying to hide it, but she was tired and couldn’t stop it from escaping. She’d just have to push through.

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