Page 4 of Torn from the Alien Commander

“Hmm.” Xandor pauses, teasing my desperate impatience. “Like I said, I was on the ship, but I did review combat capabilities. Many fractured nations, primitive ballistic and missile capabilities, the warriors physically weak. Motivated by greed rather than honor or warrior ethos. It’s why Krogoth went alone; they posed a minor threat,” he recites, as if reading a report until he pauses. “No offense.”

I feel no offense, only disappointment, not caring about how they fight, but how they live their lives. The life stolen from me,the one I should’ve had. “What about normal people? How do they live?” I insist, nestling into Xandor.

Xandor pauses again. “I could see the lights dotting the dark side of the planet. So many, it looked half-aflame. Your people must be a frisky species, home to many billions,” he chuckles.

He’s words amuse me as I try to picture lights blinking on a blue glowing planet. “Tell me more.”

“Let me think,” Xandor states with another pause. “Oh, humans require many horns of drug bean juice to survive. Like fanatics, they worship in the temples of their bean gods of many names. It’s unclear as to the purpose or what effect this provides.”

I frown at his words, full of doubt. “That doesn’t make sense, Xandor. I don’t need any of this bean juice to survive!” I challenge.

“True,” Xandor concedes. “Perhaps it’s infused into your very being, a gift from your bean gods?” He muses, lost in wild speculation.

“Void, sake, I’m not possessed by bean juice gods!” I shoot back, wondering if Xandor is just making this whole ridiculous thing up.

Xandor shrugs, not convinced at my protest. “Who can say what form the gods may take?”

I sigh, deciding to drop the topic. “Is there anything else you know about Earth?” I persist, hoping there’s something more believable.

“Yes... yes,” Xandor stumbles, his eyes downcast. “I remember something hinting at a leadership caste. Perhaps a parasitical overlord species,” he states, scratching his head. “If I’d known your need now, I would’ve paid more attention during Astraxius’ boring lectures.”

I wish he paid more attention; each nugget of information is like a pinch of Elerium to my desperate greed.

“Some furry varmint, which the humans cater to their every whim. Numbering in the millions, they live amongst your kind, kept in esteemed luxury, lauded like high merchants. We even observed stone monuments built in their honor. A testament to your people’s devotion or their enslavement? And how this all relates back to your bean juice gods is the true mystery,” Xandor ponders, resting his hand on his chin.

I rise a skeptical brow. “So, my people are drug-worshipping slaves to furry varmints?”

Xandor lets out a sigh. “I’m afraid so Tyrxie, I hate to be the bearer of ill news,” he laments, placing a reassuring hand over my shoulder.

How could there be billions of humans if we live such wretched existences? I frown in doubt, convinced Xandor has mis-crossed connections on a Polysynth board. Yet all this talk of Earth prompts me to uncover my golden locket.

“This is the only thing I have from Earth,” I say, marveling at the fact that my people created it so far away. The sole connection left to me, a source of strength and of frustration.

Xandor leans forward, studying the object with a keen eye. With a gentle movement, he takes the locket, turning it over. “You can open it,” I offer. Our hands meet as I press the delicate latch that reveals the old picture of me, the Earth version of me. “That’s me as a child. See how happy I looked?” I ask, gazing in wonder still after countless viewings.

“You wear the same expression now,” Xandor says, glancing between me and the locket. Heat blooms on my face at his words.Really? Am I happy now, like back then?The thought makes me smile as I wonder if I’m becoming like the person I was always meant to be. “You look cute and innocent. Who could’ve guessed the trouble you’d get into?” he adds with a short laugh.

Tell me about it!

“Thanks, Xandor,” I state, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, feeling a sense of joyous contentment wash over me.

Yet Xandor’s eyes remain locked on the picture. “There’s text written here, some form of Earthling language,” he declares, his voice growing eager as he activates his wrist console.

“Yeah, no one knows what it says,” I lament watching Xandor as a surge of enthusiasm builds. “Do you know what it means?” I inquire, clutching Xandor’s arm, unable to hide my excitement.

“Me? No,” Xandor says with a smirk, “But this thing might.” He waves his wrist console projection over the engraved text as my heart hammers in my chest. “Astraxius was a genius. He upgraded our wrist consoles with Earth languages, so if it’s from Earth, we’ll soon know.”

The projection shows the strange word and under it, even stranger runes glowing in shimmering blue. The runes of the Klendathian language. “Interesting,” Xandor intones.

“What does it say? Tell me!” I demand, my heart filled to bursting. My entire life, I’ve wondered what these words mean.Some kind of message? A name? A location?

“Rebecca,” Xandor whispers, his eyes shifting to me.

“Re...bec...ca?” I stumble over the strange syllables. Void is that my real name? Tears gather behind my eyes as I gaze into Xandor’s.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rebecca.” Xandor smiles, his golden eyes full of warmth.

I’m Rebecca.

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