Page 47 of Torn from the Alien Commander

I draw a deep breath, my heart roaring with Rush-enhanced blood, poised and taut like a stalking venefex. Images flash in my head, an array of strikes and outcomes, some ending in disaster, others the prefect attack. My grip tightens on my sword, now humming with a deadly sparking laser.

The sound of the battlesuit’s thrusters roaring to life reach me, sounding strange and slow to my heightened senses.Close now, very close.My breathing steadies and my heart beats as I close my eye, sensing it hurtling down the corridor to investigate.

Now!

Roaring, I slash a perfect vertical cut straight through the back of the battlesuit. The back portion thuds to the ground, adding to the cacophony of the rumbling building. I wasn’t certain why this strike was the best, only that it worked, but now, seeing the terrified pilot squirming on the floor, I smile knowingly.

The massive remnants of the suit, two heads taller than me, crashes through the metal stairwell banister, disappearing overthe precipice. I hear Tyrxie gasp and Felixus shout in shock, “Imperator’s bloody arse!” followed by the deafening crash below.

The stairwell shakes anew, but I fixate my gaze on the pilot. He recoils away from my blade, terror straining his brown eyes. “Klen.... Klendathians!” He shouts uselessly, before reaching for a pistol on his belt. I frown, stomping down on his wrist—the one he has that I do not. He squeals in pain, louder than I did, despite my suffering being magnitudes greater.

His weakness sickens me... My weakness sickens me.

“Stop, Xandor!” Tyrxie cries out as my blade buzzes and snaps inches from the writhing pilot’s face.

Her words fill me with shame, almost washing away my fury—almost. “Thank your Gods, others show pity that was denied to me!” I shout, deactivating my blade and turning away in disgust.

The sound of Tyrxie’s rifle snaps, sending the pilot unconscious with her stunning laser. I scoff at the kind gesture—the opposite of my suffering. “What’s gotten into you?” Tyrxie asks, her voice full of concern.

“Our enemies, they sicken me!” I snarl, revealing fangs. “They’re devoid of honor. Sadists hiding within machines.”

Tyrxie’s eyes soften as she steps closer, her hand gently touching my arm. “I know they hurt you, Xandor, but don’t let them turn you into something you’re not.”

I take a deep breath, the concern in her emerald eyes calming my golden fury, anchoring me. “You’re right. There’s too much at stake,” I mutter, the anger receding but still shimmering beneath. “Come, we need to keep moving.”

Felixus and Quad finally crest the last steps to floor seven, panting heavily. They stop to catch their breath, only for Tyrxie and me to push forward through the opulent doorway. The path ahead is unlike the other corridors below—those lacked style, mere sterile white gleaming walls.

A lush, deep purple carpet covers the floor, stretching the length of the hall. Its fine fibers shimmer underfoot. The walls gleam with a silver-blue hue, adorned at regular intervals with intricate inlays of sparkling gemstones. These gems are arranged in swirling patterns that evoke the spirals of distant galaxies.

Such decadence.

“Wow,” Tyrxie whispers as her gaze scans the interior, lingering on the tall, elegant pillars rising from the floor to the ceiling, each one carved from a single crystal. “I’ve never seen anything like this!” she exclaims.

“We’ll try not to break much,” I jest with a smile.

I stalk down the decadent passageway, which is more a declaration of the Nebian Empire’s imaginary superiority. I lament the loss of my other hand to hold Tyrxie as we tread carefully, knowing danger lurks ahead. The myriad of future paths blink into my mind in an instant, filling me with total awareness.

“How’s your aim today?” I inquire, halting to squint down the massive corridor, seeing ominous dark specks.

“Good.” Tyrxie gives a short laugh. “Not as good as yours. The soldier who never misses,” she mocks, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Could I make the shot?The lack of peripheral vision and my missing arm make it doubtful. “That title has slipped from my grasp,” I reply as I kneel in front of her, facing the open, looming corridor. “But you can do it. The warrior who almost never misses.”

Tyrxie chuckles, resting the barrel of her rifle on my broad shoulder—understanding my meaning. My clever female. Her softness presses against me, her gentle breathing absurdly cute and endearing, but I’m hopeful her targets will think differently.

“I see them,” Tyrxie whispers, tickling my long ears as she peers through her scope. “Three of them. What are they?”

I close my eye, seeing them with clarity through my Gods-touched mind. “Long-range portable laser drones.” Small orbs dart through the air, their sensors on high alert. If we had taken a few more steps forward, they would have gotten the jump on us.

“Weren’t the defenses supposed to be deactivated?” Tyrxie mutters next to my ear, sending delightful tingles through me.

“These are remote, deployed from battlesuits. Nasty little bastards for the unwary.” I frown, remembering fights where we took down Nebian battlesuits, thinking it was safe, only to come under fire moments later from their drones. “They’re weak, just one hit will do. I’ve seen you do it a thousand times.”

Tyrxie draws in a deep breath as I activate my laser sword, holding it out before me to shield my love. The air is thick with tension, the rhythmic pounding echoing through the building making it difficult to remain still, but Tyrxie’s a crack shot. She knows to adjust, to choose a still moment. “Make quick shots, and whatever happens, keep firing.”

Zap!

The red streak of her laser whizzes past me, the sound jarring being so close to my ear. “Yes!” Tyrxie exclaims, adjusting her rifle a minute fraction. Another streaking beam of crimson illuminates the corridor, traveling almost out of sight. “Got it!” she declares in victory.

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