Page 28 of Torn from the Alien Commander

“Thanks Tiny!” Quad booms, scooping up all the fruits and devouring them without a second thought.

“Fruits?” Hyanxa says the word like it’s the most ridiculous concept in the universe. “Voiding fruits, Tyrxie?” She approaches with an expression of outrage. My feet itch to retreat, but I hold my ground, knowing I must be strong for Xandor.

“What? They were tasty,” Quad interjects, patting his massive belly.

“Shut up, Quad!” Hyanxa and I say in unison, mirroring each other’s fierce determination.

“You have the rest, don’t you? The whole five hundred thousand?” Hyanxa demands, pointing an accusing finger at me.

“I do,” I concede with a nod, my eyes boring into hers like hardened green-tinted arcweave.

“I’m the second in command by rights. It belongs to me.”

“Kaanus is dead, the ship is too. There is nothing to command.”

“Mutalisk shit, as his lover, I’m entitled!”

Please forgive me, Hyanxa.“No! You abandoned him when he needed you most. I was like his daughter—”

“Daughter! Don’t make me voiding laugh, you were little more than a slave—”

“I was there at the end! Where were you? Running away frightened looking after yourself, like you always do!”

“No... it wasn’t like that.”

“Kaanus could have given the credits to any of us. But he chose me because I was like a daughter to him, because I cared!” I round on Hyanxa, my voice full of intense passion.

Her eyes drop, her posture slumps in defeat. I can scarcely believe it. I’m so stunned that a long silence lingers, the eyes of the others darting between the two of us.

“So, no more credits?” Quad interjects, scratching his head, almost as confused as me.

Despite the shaking of my hands and the buzzing in my mind, my passion still burns, knowing that this is the hardest part. “No, there are credits. One last job and I’ll split the rest between you four. I’ll even give up my share.”

Will it be enough?

The Glaseroid brothers’ antennae perk, and I can almost see them calculating the hefty amount in their narrow heads. Hyanxa leans against a nearby wall puffing from her vaporstick. “What’s the job?” she asks with a cautious golden side eye.

“Rescue Xandor.” I let the words hang in the air, my chest fluttering, hoping with every fiber of my being that they will help. “He’s being held by a group called the Praetorian Guard. In the Nebian Imperial place.” I suppress a wince at asking them to strike at the very heart of Nebia—a suicide mission to any sensible ears.

“I’ll help, Scary,” Quad booms, thumping his chest with his many arms.

I exhale, feeling a renewed sense of respect for my strange Barlyxian friend. “Thanks, Quad,” I say with a solemn nod.

“The Imperial place.” Hyanxa scoffs, puffing out a plume of colorful smoke. “Is that the impenetrable fortress we just flew over on our way here?” She inquires, and I nod in agreement. “You’re a voiding mad bitch, Tyrxie.” She shakes her head.

Her frank words echo my fears and I feel my hopes sinking like a solid slag of arcweave. “I can get you in. All of us,” Felixus declares, rallying my hopes. “Straight through the first three layers of defenses. To the very heart of the control center, from there we can cause all sorts of havoc.”

“Oh yeah? And how are you going to do that?” Hyanxa inquires, flicking a hand through her long red hair.

Felixus puffs out his chest and places a stubby hand over his heart. “Because I’m Magister Machinator to the Imperial court, that’s how. I’ll load you blockheads into a hover transport, feign a replacement for an Elerium generator, and boom, we’re in,” he finishes with a solemn nod.

Hyanxa puffs on her vaporstick, inspecting her sharp nails, appearing thoughtful.Please say yes, please say yes.

Quad stumps over to the Glaseroid brothers, leaning down to whisper. “Job, you smart. How many credits we get?” he booms, his failed attempts at whispering jarring my ears.

“What?” Job startles as if from a trace, his arms flailing in defense. “Oh, I get one hundred fifty thousand credits. You get one hundred thousand. For my management fees. Yes?” the sly Glaseroid peers up at the open-mouthed Quad, his antennae twirling.

“I have manager?” Quad frowns, scratching his head. “Okay!” he yells, smiling with a nod.

---