Page 25 of Torn from the Alien Commander

Job would love it here.

“Bloody voidsons, you’re a human!” The squat Nebian exclaims, shifting his green goggles to the top of his head. “And a striking beauty, make no mistake,” he adds with a deep bow.

Nebians definitely have a strange taste.

My face heats at his words and his earnest bow, unsure how to respond to such praise. “Um, thanks... I’m called Tyrxie.” I perform my own deep bow, mimicking his actions while studying his face. His drooping red eyebrows and his thick copper-colored hair and beard lend him a scruffy look, but his sincere eyes and open expression give me the sense he can be trusted.

But looks can be deceiving.

“Xandor also said I’m a human, but I’ve never been to Earth,” I explain, smiling, happy that I’ve learned so much about my origins recently. “But I do have some Earth fruit. Want some?” I fumble, offering him an apple from my pocket.

Felixus stares, blinking at my offering. “You know, you might be the first visitor to offer me something,” he chuckles, reaching up to take the fruit from me. I suppress a grimace, knowing he’ll feel differently when I tell him why I’m here.

He pockets the fruit in his colorful polymer clothes. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” Felixus gestures to a pile of mechanical junk, beneath which I notice large plush cushions. “Excuse the mess, but I refuse to let the drones clean. Last time they threw out half my works,” he finishes with a sigh.

I stumble, avoiding the countless pieces of junk, feeling like I’m dodging an asteroid field. “Tell me, how did you end up meeting Xandor? Did the blockhead abduct you?” Felixusinquires with a soft laugh as he sweeps the cushions, sending piles of mechanical parts cluttering onto the soft floor.

Such a simple question, yet the answer is complex.

“I was a slave onboard a mercenary ship called the Mutalisk’s Hammer. Xandor offered Kaanus—he is... was the Captain—to bring him to Nebia to form an alliance with your people,” I blurt out as I take a careful seat amongst the lavish cushions.

“An alliance!” Felixus exclaims, beaming, “That’s excellent news. You know, that was my mission when I met him. Then he and Krogoth rescued me from junkers. But from what I recall, Xandor wanted to leave me in the cell.” He shakes his broad head.

Void’s sake Xandor!

My heart sinks at his words, growing doubtful he’ll want to help Xandor. “Um, the problem is we were attacked in orbit by your military. I think our ship crash-landed, and Xandor was taken prisoner by the Praetorian Guard.” The words spill from my lips as I plead, driven by desperation.

Felixus’ reaction fills me with dread as his expression snaps from a pleasant smile to a deep frown. “This is bad, awful, in fact.” He paces in quick circles, sending more junk tumbling around. “Bloody bastards will tear him apart,” he whispers, filling me with a surge of anxiety. I already know how Xandor suffers. It tugs at the back of my mind, delivering daggers to my heart.

“My apologies,” Felixus adds, realizing he’s thinking aloud. “I can petition the Consuls, but it could take weeks for them to act. The Imperator himself is another option, but he’s under the sway of the Praetorian Guard,” he mumbles with a hand under his bearded chin, pacing back and forth.

“Xandor, won’t last that long!” I exclaim, driven by frantic worry. “I don’t understand. Why are they doing this to him? He came in peace, like you did. Isn’t this what both of your peopleswanted?” My hands dart to my wrist console, transferring the peace terms to Felixus.

“You’d think so,” Felixus laments, still pacing in thought. “Ambassador Titxus and myself were tasked by the Imperator. But when I came back with Titxus lost, the mission a failure, the pro-war elements gained more control. The voidson Prefect Horaxus Domna basically controls the Imperator now. I’m afraid the longer this war goes on, the more it twists my people. They dig in deeper, prepared to fight to the death no matter the cost.”

Xandor handed himself over to people who hold a murderous grudge against him.

“I won’t leave him there, Felixus. I can’t abandon him!” The words burst from my trembling lips, driven by a sudden shocking intensity.

Felixus halts. Our eyes meet and his face shifts to one of pity.I hate pity. Pity is useless.“Look, Xandor is most likely already dead.” He approaches, placing a thick hand on my shoulder. “I’m voiding sorry to say it, Tyrxie. Xandor was a great friend for the short time I knew him. But the Praetorian Guard don’t mess about when it comes to captured enemies.”

“Was.” I spit the repeated word out like the vilest poison, and Felixus shifts his gaze downward in shame. “He’s alive Felixus, I know it without a doubt.” I shrug my shoulder, dislodging his hand, his unwanted pity. “I feel it through our bond.”

Felixus hisses through his teeth. “More blockheaded Klendathian nonsense.” He shakes his head with disdain, renewing his pacing. “Do you know how superstitious they are? Cult-like fanaticism to theirgods. Don’t be naïve, falling for their romantic idealism.”

He’s the naïve one!

I dismiss his ignorance out of hand, knowing without a flicker of doubt Xandor is alive and our bond is real. “You want him to be dead,” I challenge, feeling the heat in my cheeks.

“Huh?” Felixus halts, his face twisted in a deep frown. “Nonsense.”

“No, it’s true,” I press, driving by disappointment and anger. “You want to forget about the whole thing and retreat to fixing yourtoysinstead,” I gesture to his intricate miniature models lining the shelves. “I don’t care about your peace. I just want my Xandor back. But you should care. This is another chance to complete your original mission from the Imperator, bring peace and save your people.”

Felixus stares, his eyes boring into mine. I struggle not to avert my gaze, his intense, annoyed expression causing my pulse to race. Finally, he sags with exasperation. “Fine, lass, let’s say Xandor’s alive. Then what? Did you see the Imperial palace on the way here? That’s where the Praetorian Guard resides. That’s where they’ll be keeping him.”

The memory of the massive, fortified structure with its numerous insurmountable defenses strike me like a brutal body blow. Of all the places Xandor could be, it had to be inside there. “Don’t you work inside the Imperial palace? Maybe you could sneak us in?” I mutter, struggling to think of any solutions.

Felixus paces, stopping to pick up a small hovering container from the cluttered floor. “I am the Magister Machinator to the Imperial court.” Felixus’ demeanor shifts, his bearing growing proud, with a hand on his hip and chest puffed outward. “I can get you inside,” he declares with a confident smile.

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