Page 44 of Torn from the Alien Commander

“Ah, short-stuff. You’re a sight for a sore eye,” I jest, smirking.

“Xandor... lad, I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances,” he mutters, eyes downcast.

“Indeed, the Nebian hospitality leaves a lot to be desired!” I exclaim, with more bite than I intended. The truth is, I seethe with a burning hatred for the Nebians—for what they did to me, for their arrogance, for their naïve certainty. They’re almost as twisted as the Scythians.

Even though peace is the only way forward, the baser side of me—Xandor the warrior and commander—yearns to lash out, to seek revenge. I could convince Krogoth to pursue justice, to renew our attack. Such a path exists, stretching into the darkness, tempting despite its ominous conclusion.

Felixus drops his head in shame. “At least I no longer have to sharpen these claws.” I wiggle the stump below my shoulder. MyNebian friend appears to shrink further. The sight of it gives me a flicker of sympathy. “Rest easy, Felixus. All is well.” I approach, slapping him on the back, almost toppling him over. “I bring peace, after all.”

Hyanxa scoffs. “How will you bring peace, flashing that weapon around?” she retorts, eyeing me before gesturing toward my nakedness. I glance down, frowning. The sight of my dangling cock threatens to send me into fits of laughter—especially when I recall how close I came to losing that, too.

“Oh!” I exclaim, approaching the others to see if they carry anything suitable to wear.

“Eww mammaloid floppy fleshy bits, too close. Yes?” Job states, recoiling almost out of the room in horror.

“Thought you’d be used to them now,” I retort at the fleeing Job. “Why’s he so squeamish, and you’re not?” I ask, turning to Mod, growing curious.

“I’m medical expert. Seen many fleshy bits. Too many. No?” Mob answers. I nod, the answer obvious in retrospect.

“Come on, we don’t have time for—” Hyanxa begins, her tone impatient.

“We have some time. Well, until we breach the upper levels,” I interrupt her with a stern look, already expecting the shocked glances exchanging among the others.

Hyanxa sneers, her usual fierceness flaring, “If you want to go get your idiotic self killed, by all means—don’t let me stop you.” She leans to the side, her gaze shifting past me to Tyrxie. “Our deal was to rescue Xandor, not to launch a suicide mission fighting the entire Nebian—”

“If you attempt to flee, you will die,” I state, knowing the multitude of outcomes. The crew exchanges worried looks, and I frown seeing Hyanxa finger her pistol. “Not by my hand. But you cannot escape the Nebians’ wrath for this. I’ve seen the hundredways they catch you... some take longer than others, but make no mistake—none of us will outlive a moon’s turn.”

“What bloody nonsense are you speaking, you big blockhead?” Felixus blusters, shaking his head in disbelief. I smile, enjoying his old familiar objections. “Speaking like a primitive mad cultist, divining futures.”

I turn to Felixus, my gaze intense. “Because I can. The Gods have blessed us, and together we have ascended,” I gesture to Tyrxie, her eyes downcast as she rubs her locket.Even she doubts the truth, but soon they will understand.“You brought me a laser sword. It rests outside in the corridor, doesn’t it?” I smirk, nodding towards the exit.

Felixus flinches before frowning.I don’t need to divine the paths to know he’ll always be voiding stubborn!“An obvious guess, considering it’s the only melee weapon our battlesuits use.”

His mind grasps for the familiar—a feeble excuse, conveniently ignoring how I knew the sword lay outside. But it’s to be expected. Felixus clings to certainty amidst the unknown—the Nebian way. Safe and secure in their naïve assertions, like Mod’s numbing oils, they ignore the painful truths of the universe.

“Tyrxie, heal Hyanxa’s wound,” I command, smiling at my love, enjoying the look of innocent disbelief spreading over her beautiful, delicate features.

“Heal her?” she questions, taking a tentative step towards the fierce Jungarian. “Um, how do I do that, exactly?”

“Giant green mammaloid shows signs of extreme trauma-induced delusions. No?” Mod interjects, frowning as he opens his coat, fingering for one of his many oils. “Very common ailment in such scenarios. No?”

“There is no cure for the truth,” I challenge the diminutive Glaseroid. “You need only do what you did for me,” I reassure Tyrxie with a smile.

“Okay...” Tyrxie exhales, approaching Hyanxa, who frowns but still holds out her injured arm. My love shrugs before taking the offered limb. Staring at Tyrxie, I channel all the love I feel for her. My heart swells, the emotions raw and intense—feeding her psyche, bridging our bond. “Nothing’s happening, Xandor,” she mutters, followed by the impatient, disbelieving sounds of the others.

“If Tyrxie heals like she repairs, Hyanxa’s arm would be attached backwards. Yes?” Job interjects, turning to his brother, their antennae’s fluttering wildly,

“Hey! I might rearrange your arms the old-fashioned way, Job,” Tyrxie snaps back before sighing in exasperation, turning to me. “I’m sorry, Xandor.” Her face carries a hint of shame.

It’s absurd. She shines bright as a supernova, pure as fresh snow atop Draxxi mountains. I know the potential within her—I’ve seen it. Just as I know with absolute certainty that, in a moment, she will heal Hyanxa’s arm. “Channel your love, your hate, any emotion that soars your heart. Let it infuse your soul, let it carry you away until you embrace your existence.”

Hyanxa scoffs, mumbling something about me being overly dramatic. But I’m distracted by Tyrxie, my heart pouring love to her. She turns back to Hyanxa, her glossy black hair flowing as she takes a deep breath. My feelings rest at the precipice, crossing our bond, yearning to connect with my soulmate. I see Tyrxie shake; her gaze distant and her lip trembling.

Then, in a rush, our souls connect—the bridge completed. Already, I can feel her presence swirling within me, washing away all my pains and doubts, filling me with newfound strength. It feels glorious as my muscles swell and myconsciousness expands. The future paths that were out of reach are now illuminated, revealing their secrets.

My mind reels, knowing sometimes worse than ignorance. The infinite paths stretching onward, pushing my mind to the breaking point, forcing me back to the present. Tyrxie gasps, staring at her glowing hands in wonder. “Oh, that feels good!” Hyanxa moans, throwing her hand back, as she unwraps her makeshift bandage, revealing the inevitable—her wound now healed.

“This is bloody madness!” Felixus exclaims, rushing over to inspect Hyanxa’s hand, then scrutinizing Tyrxie as if she might be hiding a portable healing pod in her torn shirt somehow. I laugh, watching him fumble to make sense of it. His universe so full of certainties now thrown into doubt, the answers uncomfortable.

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