Page 51 of Torn from the Alien Commander

“Sneaky Nebians override central control. I held for long as I could. Yes?” Job interjects, filling me with a sense of urgency.

The potential future paths flicker in my mind’s eye, causing me to frown. “Get those defenses up,” I gesture to the smashed makeshift debris, noticing the useful heavy repeater lasers. Everyone except Mod moves to obey. “You’re with me, Tyrxie.” I urge her to stop.

“They have communications back, which means every guard already in the building will be on their way here, soon followed by their entire forces from the outside,” I state, watching Quad set his heavy cannon down to toss piles of arcweave and heavy ornate furniture around. “You must hold them here until aggressive negotiations can be concluded.”

“Voiding brilliant.” Hyanxa grimaces, moving with hastened speed, adjusting the laser repeaters towards the entrance.

“More bashing!” Quad exclaims, the only smiling face amongst the angst-ridden others.

“We use stunted mammaloids as fleshy shields? No?” Mod asks, with a rushed tone, gesturing to the fallen Nebians.

Not the worst idea, if peace wasn’t the goal.

“You’ll do no bloody such thing!” Felixus shouts, struggling to turn over an ornate drawer.

I suppress a smile at the sight of Felixus’s righteous indignation. “Mod, no shields,” I say firmly. “Remember, we come to bring harmony as warriors of peace.”

Felixus mumbles something about me being blockhead under his breath, while Hyanxa rolls her eyes. I laugh, my heart soaring with anticipation for what lies ahead—not just for me, but for this band of misfits. It’s a curious twist of fate that so many lives—lives of my Klendathian brothers—should rest upon their shoulders.Can they bear the weight?

“Fight with honor, my war comrades! Let them taste your wrath as your hearts soar with righteous fury. Know that what you do here will echo in the annals of history. Where a courageous few stood against many in the name of a noble peace,” I roar, trying to bolster their spirits, carried away by the moment’s magnificence.

They pause, entrenched behind the makeshift defenses, fire blazing in their eyes. Good, they’ll need all the bravery they can muster. “I hold them back for you, Scary!” Quad booms, leveling his massive laser cannon toward the entrance.

I turn to smile at Quad. “You’ll bring honor to your ancestors,” I say with certainty, seeing the futures of Quad standing with glee, raining crimson fury upon many Nebians. “Come, my love,” I beckon with a final nod towards Tyrxie, moving to stand before the immense decadent door that mirrors the entrance. “We shouldn’t keep the imperator waiting,” I add, smiling.

Tyrxie gives a solemn nod, tightening her grip on her laser rifle. With a grunt, I push against the heavy door, which creaks open under my strength. Hushed, frightened mutters reach my ears from within. The cowards cower in fear while their betters fight to protect them—lucky for the weaklings, we come seeking peace.

I wrap my arm around Tyrxie’s delicate, petite waist as we cross the threshold into the luxurious, domed audiencechamber. Heroic reliefs cover every surface, depicting almost divine Nebian figures striking against monstrous creatures, their exact meaning a mystery to me. Luminous crystal pillars, towering from floor to ceiling, dot the entire room.

But all this pales compared to the throne, the centerpiece—perhaps for the entire universe. An immense sphere of solid Elerium, its orange hue undulating and glowing as if alive, curved at one end to seat the Imperator. An ancient long gray-haired and bearded Nebian male, his drowsy, almost closed eyes, looking lost within the enormity of his supreme, decadent seat of power.

The terrified faces of the Nebian nobility mutter frantically at our approach. My sharp senses pick out their pungent fear, clinging to them like their garish, opulent high-collared clothes and their Elerium encrusted jewelry. Cries of “Prefect, save us!” and “Barbarian Klendathians here to kill us all!” ring out.

The fearful give us a wide berth, scrambling to distance themselves. But the immense purple battlesuit standing beside the throne draws my attention. The cockpit lies open, revealing the Praetorian Prefect—my torturer and the source of my rage.

I lean down and whisper, “Listen, you must infuse your soul like before, then lay your hands upon the Imperator, staying close to him no matter what happens.” Tyrxie shifts her rifle among the frightened masses, as if expecting an attack.

“Fine, but if you’re in danger—” Tyrxie begins.

“No, my love. This is too important. Swear to me, you’ll do as I ask,” I interject, the future teetering on a blade’s edge.

Tyrxie glances up at me with determined resolve. “I promise,” she intones with a nod, then adds, “But don’t let your anger get the better of you.”

I smile at her astute, caring nature, letting it wash over me like the pleasant Klendathian sun. “You have my word. But make no mistake, the Prefect must die for peace to flourish.” My gazeshifts back to the sneering Prefect. “Heal the Imperator and enjoy the show... I know I will.”

Except for the groveling, which I loath to do, but even I must bend to the will of the Gods.

The ancient Imperator finally stirs, appearing as if he’s just waking up. “I say. Prefect Domna, is that a Klendathian come to visit?” he drawls, his voice wizened, his tone slow. “How exciting. It’s been centuries since I spoke to one.” He peers down between his white bushy eyebrows, almost as long as his beard.

Suppressing a sigh, I break my embrace with my love and my pride. Prostrating before the ancient Nebian, my head brushing the majestic stone floor, my sword sprawled out before me.I seethe within, the irksome work of a warrior of peace, an insult to my noble pride.“Great and glorious Imperator Bulba, fourth of your name, protector of the twin-sunned empire. I beseech your noble countenance on behalf of my leader. The wise and powerful High Chieftain Krogoth of my proud Klendathian kin.”

Krogoth would burst into a fit of laughter if he could see me now.

“In the name of peace, for the good of our peoples who have long suffered in futile wars, I bring an offer of alliance!” My voice rings out in the eerie silent chamber, finally lifting my gaze to the Imperator, hearing the stunned gasps of the crowd.

“Oh, my, how polite he is, knowing the ancient addresses! Very well. I accept your request to join our feasting dances.” The Imperator waddles atop his opulent throne with excitement as an awkward silence lingers. “Prefect Domna, you told me the Klendathians were savages. How wrong you were.” He titters, while I wait for the true power behind the throne to speak.

“Let me handle this matter, Bulba.” The soulless eyes of the Prefect regard me. Already my blood boils as my claws itch, craving to tear out his throat and rend his flesh to pieces. His battlesuit whirs to life, thudding down the steps towards me.“Was this your ploy all along? To infiltrate our Imperial court and threaten the very heart of the empire itself?”

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