Page 34 of Torn from the Alien Commander

“I warned you!” The guard retorts, my body shaking with dread. My plan, the entire universe, teeters on the edge of failure. The sound of boots rapidly advancing and the panicked yelp of Felixus jolts me to my senses.

“Don’t hurt, Tiniest!” Quad booms. In a flash, our container door explodes open with a deafening bang. My eyes strain to adjust to the dazzling blue lights. Yet through blurry eyes, I make out Quad charging towards two tiny Nebian who stand stunned, their mouths motioning without a sound.

“Bash!” Quad roars, followed by the sickening crunch as he carries the two guards slamming into the gleaming white polished walls. I come to my senses, leaping out of the container, drawing my laser pistol, scanning the room, and breathing a sigh of relief, upon finding no others.

“This is a bloody nightmare!” Felixus wails, his eyes shifting between Quad and the unconscious guards. “We’re going to be discovered, and we haven’t even reached the control center,” he adds, shaking his head. “Void, we’ll all be shot for this! What are we going to—”

A resounding slap echoes through the long corridor. “Get a voiding grip!” Hyanxa demands, looming over the stunned Felixus, who holds his cheek in shocked silence. “The plan is still solid. We’re just a little further from the control center, right?”

“Yeah...” Felixus mutters, rubbing his cheek. “Yeah, not far.” His voice grows stronger.

“Good job, Quad,” I congratulate the hulking Barlyxian with a pat on his broad shoulder. “Strip these two and help me lock them inside,” I gesture towards the container, which still holds Mod and Job, who now peer outside, their antennae curling round the edges.

“Okay!” Quad bellows, picking up one of the Nebian guards as if he weighed nothing, jingling him aloft. “Bashings fun. Bashings fun,” he hums repeatedly. I turn my attention to the other guard, noticing the same segmented armor Thalaxia wore. Only these carry a rich purple color—the color of the Praetorian Guard.

I holster my pistol in favor of the guard’s laser rifle, turning it over in my hands, adjusting to its weight, testing its sights.Very nice indeed!“Here,” I state, throwing a rifle towards Hyanxa, who catches it midair in a smooth, graceful motion.

“Oh, laser weapons,” Hyanxa purrs, inspecting her weapon as I search the guards, extracting two more pistols, giving them to Mod and Job.

“Now hold on!” Felixus interrupts, his usual bluster returning in full force. “That’s protected, Nebian tech. It’s not for outsiders to use.”

I frown, knowing I’d use every tool, break every sacred law if it meant getting my Xandor back. But it’s Hyanxa who speaks. “Void sake, you expect us to use harsh language, Nebian?”

I grunt, dragging one guard, now stripped down to his polymer underwear, into the darkened container. A yelp escapes me as the other guard is sent spinning over my head like a bag ofNutripaste, thudding into the space with a loud crash. “Easy,” I caution, staring at the proud visage of the beaming Quad.

“What I expected was a quiet, stealthy entry to the control center, not this blockheaded madness,” Felixus adds with a sigh.

“We’ll return all tech after the mission, I promise,” I offer, slamming shut the bolt to the container. “Speaking of tech, put this on.” I toss over the guard’s armor.

Felixus hobbles over, pulling the breastplate over his head, grumbling about how tight it fits.Void, he complains more than Job; it must be a requirement to be an engineer.I continue searching the clothes, hoping to find a pass, a key, anything, but to my chagrin, there’s nothing.

“How do we open this door?” I inquire, gesturing towards the gleaming white barrier with a slit down the center, lacking any apparent terminal or control.

“Let me see.” Felixus approaches, looking silly with his flesh oozing out of his armor. “Must be controlled by NeuroLink. It’s becoming more commonplace.” He grimaces, stroking his orange beard.

“What does that mean? We can’t open it?” I ask, unable to contain my dismay, desperate to find a way, knowing I’m so close to finding Xandor.

“It means only their brains could open it.” Felixus thumbs behind him to the container. “And it seems in our infinite wisdom we’ve bashed them unconscious,” he adds with a lingering look towards Quad, who only nods, smiling.

Void, what should we do? It can’t end like this!

“Hmm,” Mod intones, approaching to run his arm limbs over the smooth metal, ending with a soft knock. “Thick, simple arcweave composites? No?” he turns to Felixus with a tilted narrow head.

Felixus scratches his head. “Not no. Yes, it’s just arcweave, thicker than a Tuskarians arse though,” he answers, looking between me and Mod.

I lock my eyes onto Mod with my heart in my mouth, hoping he has a solution. “Easy!” Mod declares, opening his long polymer coat, extracting a metallic silver jar from a host of filled pockets. “You all stand back. No?”

“Come on.” I usher the others back as hope blooms within me once again. We all take cover behind the container waiting with bated breath. Impatient, I peek to see Mod dousing the door with the silvery liquid. On contact, a sizzling steam bellows outward, followed by a searing noise. I watch in wonder as large chunks of the door turn to liquid before sloshing off like puddles of water.

The vapor drifts towards us, carrying a sharp, stinging scent of molten metal and some unknown harsh chemicals that threaten to choke. “Void, that’s powerful stuff,” Hyanxa states between wracking coughs. I cover my mouth with my wrist, peeking at Mod through the thick gas, worrying he may end up poisoning us all.

Mod applies more liquid, and his form almost disappears between the haze and thick hole he has created.I hope he’s going to be okay.Hyanxa retreats further down the hall, overcome with choking coughs that have her doubled over. Finally, before I decide to join her, Mod arrives, part of his face obscured by a translucent breathing mask.

“Door now has new door. No?” Mod declares, his voice muffled through his mask, with a nod of his thin head.

“Brillant, thanks, Mod.” I pat him on the shoulder, elated and eager to get a move on. Yet the toxic billowing smoke gives me pause. “You always carry an atmospheric filter mask?” I inquire, wishing I had one.

Mod nods. “Indeed, never be certain, might accidentally create nerve agent or viral toxin. No?” He opens his coat, retrieving a handful of translucent atmospheric filter masks. I frown at him, my annoyance bubbling to the surface, conveyed through disbelieving blinks.

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