Page 5 of Torn from the Alien Commander

The name feels foreign to my tongue, yet it tugs at something deep within me. I glance down at the locket, the only piece of my past I have, now carrying a name—my name. Rebecca.

But Tyrxie is who I am now. Tyrxie is the one who survived, who fought, who found love and purpose. How do I reconcile the two?

“I... I’m not sure what to call myself now,” I confess, my voice trembling slightly.

Xandor’s expression softens, his hand cupping my cheek. “You don’t have to decide right now,” he says. “Whether you’re Tyrxie or Rebecca, you’re still the same brave, beautiful soul.”

His words soothe the turmoil within me. Maybe I don’t have to choose one over the other. Maybe I can be both.

“For now, let’s stick with Tyrxie,” I say with a small smile. “Rebecca can be our secret.”

Xandor nods, his eyes twinkling. “Our secret,” he agrees, pulling me into a tender embrace.

As I rest against his chest, I realize that discovering my birth name doesn’t erase who I’ve become. It adds another layer to my identity, enriching the person I am.

And for now, that’s enough.

Chapter 2

Xandor

Zygon

The mess hall wasnever designed to seat so many, especially when three of our number include us mighty Klendathians. Yet, we all squeeze in, pulling the tables and chairs together, somewhat awkwardly perched atop the feeble polymer chairs. This gathering was my Tyrxie’s idea, a farewell of sorts—now we’re less than a day’s journey from Nebia.

All crew members are present except for the Kaanus, who I hope is still piloting the ship.If he abandons his post now, when we’re so close to potential danger, I swear to the Gods I’ll strip the flesh from his bones.The sour thought mirrors my mood, exacerbated by troubling dreams which still haunt my nights.

Even lying next to Tyrxie, awash in our lust and desire for each other, brings no respite from these specters. I thought themmanifestations from the Gods, cursing and driving me into the arms of Tyrxie. After our glorious embrace, they’ve only grown stronger. I suppress a wince at the phantom pain of horrendous suffering.

Visions flash through my mind. If I could hold them longer, I might piece them together to complete the whole. Pictures of destruction and something lost, never to return. I wish I could dismiss them as irrational fears, but they are too persistent, too similar. A part of me knows deep down that these are warnings from the Gods, hints at a future.But can I change it, or am I doomed to this terrible fate?

“Hey, are you ok?” Tyrxie leans in, whispering. Her scent is intoxicating, a soothing balm to my troubled mind. “It’s your turn,” she reminds me, snapping my focus back to the three cards in my hands.

Cards for a game called Zygon, which I’ve heard of but never played. Usually, I’d be too busy for such games, preferring to chat with war brothers or engage in training rather than time-wasting. However, after being crammed into such a small ship lacking basic facilities, I can now see the appeal.

“What’s this one do?” I whisper to my Tyrxie, revealing my cards in a cagey manner, enjoying her softness as I press into her.

“Giant green mammaloid takes too long. Yes?” Job interrupts, stabbing an accusing finger at me while clutching his cards to his chest like they were crafted from Elerium. “We reach Nebia, before game’s over. Yes?” he complains.

His greed motivates his impatience. He and his brother Mob sit with the most polymer utensils—our makeshift currency for the games. “Keep your antennae glued on. It’s my first time playing,” I protest with a disapproving frown.

“Then skip turn, will result in same outcome, your defeat. No?” Mob chimes in, and I get the sense the two sneaky Glaseroids are in cahoots.

Tyrxie points to my card that resembles an engine or some machine. “That’s the graviton generator card. It’s worth three points,” she whispers in my ear, sending a delightful tingle through me.Now I’ll have to ask for her advice constantly.“You should probably trade it,” she suggests.

“Okay, I’ll trust you.” I exchange my card for one on the deck. Examining my new card, I see an ominous image of blackness and nothing else. “Hmm, what’s about this one?” I ask, flashing Tyrxie the card.

She laughs, confirming my ill luck. “That’s the black hole. You’re out of the game,” Tyrxie says, and the rest of the players laugh and jeer as I sigh and fold my arms. “Sorry lover.” She gives me a sympathetic pat.

Games are stupid anyway.

Mod laughs the hardest before speaking. “If you had listened to me and skipped go, you’d still be in game. No?”

“You speak from hindsight. It could’ve just as easily been a powerful card,” I retort, glaring at Mod, who only snickers at my response, turning to his brother, who joins in like I’ve declared space is white.

“Fear not, brother. Logarn and I shall subdue the Glaseroid menace,” Noroth intones with a broad smile, while Hyanxa drapes herself over him like a brown fur coat. I feel heartened by his words until I notice his pile of spoons and forks is even fewer than my meagre collection.

“Unleash the netherworld upon them, brother,” I encourage, as I move towards the food dispenser, not intending the same accident to occur to these borack steaks.

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