Page 24 of Torn from the Alien Commander

Exiting the luxurious shower, I find my clothes have been moved, now folded neatly on top of the bed. I glance around with slight mistrust as I examine my garments. They have a faint heat to them, and as I dress, I notice they too have been cleaned, sparkling with a cleanliness they’ve never had before.

Nebians don’t wait around!

I make sure my clothes still hold my precious locket before checking my pistols and knives are intact. Breathing a sigh of relief and feeling refreshed, I enter the main room, the aroma of delicious pizza greeting me from the short table. “Hey, wonderful voice, can you get me to Felixus Remus? He lives near the capital.” I feel weird asking an empty room.

“Of course. Please proceed to the exit,” the musical voice that never fails chimes.

“Thanks!” I blurt out, snatching a slice of sizzling pizza racing towards the exit, this time prepared for the strange, disorienting sensation of passing through the holographic doors. I almostspit out my delicious food as I’m swept upward this time, the whooshing sound, startling me.

“Hey!” I protest, wincing as my half-eaten pizza is torn from my grip.Void hope it doesn’t hit someone else!Then, in a flash, I find myself shuttled into one of the small orb vehicles on top of the building. Glancing about inconfusion, I hardly have time to complain when the machine hums to life, emitting a low whining noise.

Ah, crap!

Like a bullet, it shoots off at incredible speed, much faster than last time when I was held immobile. Though maybe being held secure is preferable as my hands dart to the translucent curved edges, struggling and grimacing as other orbs hurtle past, nauseatingly close.

We’re going to crash!

My orb joins the swirling mass of others in a seemingly chaotic mingle of disorganized union. How I haven’t hit anything yet is a mystery to me as I wince every time an oncoming orb swishes past, causing me to squirm to the other side in fear.

I was mistaken. The Nebians should wait around more!

After a moment I peek, my breathing becomes steadier, trusting it might be safe. Judging by the way the orbs move, the Nebians must have complex systems navigating this muddled horde. Countless orbs dart above the streets, which zoom past in a blur. Looking outside of the single-seated vehicle, I see numerous armored robot suits dashing higher in the sky, looking into orbit.

The closer I draw towards the capitol, the denser the traffic becomes. Even my fleeting glances at the street show more Nebians. Buildings grow denser and larger and I gasp, marveling at the approaching splendorous fortress in the distance. Its walls are tall and thick, dwarfing all else, lined with many laser cannons. The structure gleams a polished sandy color edgedwith deep purples, complete with intricate designs and statues that must be the height of other buildings.

“Wow.” Escapes my lips as I scoot round the cramped vehicle to keep my eyes on it. Many immense banners depicting various colors and designs drape over the walls. But it’s the purple ones with the noble Nebian face in gold that dominate the rest. Large sleek ships, each one looking to be worth a fortune, hover above, surrounded by more floating armored suits.

Whatever’s in there must be important!

I lament as my orb whizzes past the fortress at blinding speed, making it difficult to observe over my comfortable seat. Finally, I turn round, noticing my orb slowing down, though still moving with unsettling haste. Purple-colored vegetation surrounds the nearby ornate buildings, the first I’d seen on Nebia, causing me to blink in shock.

I’m glad when the orb slows even more, hovering above one building with a garden. Descending, I make out the lush violet grass blowing in the wind, framed by numerous brushes and colorful flowers that appear strange amongst the advanced backdrop.

The building’s rooftop contains many similar orbs like mine, and when it touches down, I frown, wondering what to do next. Then, the voiding bottom opens, spilling me onto an ominous black platform. “Wait, wait!” I plead uselessly, suspecting what comes next as I’m whisked away. The now familiar whooshing sound and stomach-churning sensation of dropping fill my senses.

I almost stumble, feeling battered as if I’ve tossed around a roaring hyperdrive engine. Standing in a cramped, darkened shaft before a small ornate wooden door, I take a moment to catch my breath and steady my nerves.This is crazy! I know nothing about this Felixus guy. He’s as likely to report me to his authorities as he is to help me.

An exhale escapes me, trusting in Xandor’s friendship with the Nebian, hoping it’ll be enough to move him to help. I duck my head to avoid the low frame, only to bang it against the hard wooden door. “What the—” I grimace, cutting off my curse, and rubbing the dull ache from my forehead.

Why didn’t it work like the other holographic doors?

“I’ve already donated to the Legion of Orphans this week.” A gruff voice echoes through the cramped shaft. I glance around for the source of the sound, finding nothing.

He thinks I’m a beggar?

Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened, I ponder, wrinkling my face. “Um, Magister Felixus... I need your help,” I say, wincing at how silly my words sound. My eyes dart around and my senses sharpen, expecting something to happen—nothing does.

I frown, growing impatient, “Hello!” I demand, thumping the solid door. “It’s about Xandor the Klendathian,” I plead.

“Xandor!” the gruff voice exclaims. The tension in my shoulders eases a little. “I’ll be right with you.”

At least I’ve got my foot in the door.

The faint sound of clanging and shuffling reaches my ears, filling me with a vague sense of unease. I wonder just what type of male Felixus is. “Come in, come in,” a muffled, deep voice calls from behind the door. I notice the entrance now shimmers with almost unperceivable undulations.

To be sure, I place a testing hand through the door, marveling that it’s now a mere projection somehow transformed in a blink of an eye. Felixus chuckles on the other side. “You must be new here. Come in, it’s safe.”

Stepping through, the scent of heated arcweave and singed polymer circuits fills the air. The room is a cluttered mess. Low metal tables are decked with all manner of scrap metals, gears and complex mechanisms—some as large as Felixus himself,others as tiny as my fingernails. Along the walls are shelves containing hundreds of detailed metal models similar in design to the armored suits their soldiers wear.

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