Page 57 of Torn from the Alien Commander

“Did you know Imperator Bulba is over a thousand years old?” I interrupt, hoping to turn his mind back to happier thoughts.

“Bulba?” Xandor questions in annoyance. His expression of frustration melts into a handsome smile as his gaze shifts to me. “Oh, I knew he was old, but not that old.” His face scrunches in thought. “He might be even older than Elder Nyxius.”

Amidst my time researching Earth I also grew curious about our hosts, reading about the reign of Bulba the fourth, how under his leadership the Nebians entered a new age of enlightenment, embracing logic and reason that drove them deeper into unknown space, subduing many species and trading with others—until they encountered the Scythians.

“Nyxius?” I ask, unfamiliar with the name. “Is he a Nebian?”

I take a deep breath as Xander squeezes me, his strong, reassuring arm around my waist. We march up the small but numerous steps leading to the gleaming doorway.

“No, he’s a Klendathian who sits on the Council of Elders. I believe he’s nearly a thousand years old. Probably the oldest. Although there are tales from Clan Virennix of an ancient warrior called Old Relix supposedly over a thousand years old, but that’s likely a pile of Virennix borack crap...” his voice trails off, lost in thought as my mind reels with sudden realization.

“Wait, so Klendathians also live as long as a thousand years?” I ask, incredulous, a tinge of sadness creeping into my voice.

“Yep, but most don’t make it that long.” His gaze shifts to the looming door, frowning. “Old age is a sign of cowardice, truth be told. Better to die in battle with all your teeth in your head, among your war brothers, than forcing the Gods to pluck your stubborn backside to the ancestors through illness and gradual decline. Know what I mean?”

His monologues have me all muddled. I’d enjoy them if not for the nervousness growing with each ominous step inside the spectacular building with its large white beams, marble floors, and paneling topped by a towering domed ceiling in a mosaic pattern. “Maybe,” I mutter, detracted by the pretty architecture.“What age are you, then?” I ask, remembering my original reasoning.

Xandor glances around, taking in the surroundings, but his eye doesn’t marvel. It seems to size up the place, focusing on entries and exits and the robotic guards. “Two hundred and twelve, I think,” he states causally, as if this isn’t shocking news.

“Two hundred and twelve!” I exclaim in total disbelief, halting to scrutinize his face, finding no traces of wrinkles or signs of age. “No way you’re that old.”

Xandor chuckles, “You know Rocks said the same thing.” He tilts his head side to side, smiling. “It must be because of my dashing good looks.”

That’s one reason!

“You know humans only live till around ninety? Or so the Nebians say.”Maybe they’re wrong. I hope they’re wrong.

“Hmm, that explains why the humans are so frisky,” Xandor suggests with a frown.

I laugh, “I think you Klendathians are plenty frisky, judging by your standards.” The memories of yesterday’s many mating sessions come pouring in, coalescing into a wonderful tapestry of fun. I shudder to think how sore I’d be if I didn’t heal myself.

“True,” Xandor laughs, squeezing me tighter. “I do set the bar high for our legendary Klendathian virality.”

I enjoy Xandor’s meandering talks, bouncing from one topic to the next, getting lost in his strange stories and rants. But when I want to keep on the topic, it can be difficult keeping him focused. It’s a quirk I love about him though, preferring to listen to his deep voice than speaking myself.

“Don’t you think it’s sad, though?” I ask, drawing the conversation back to age.

“The mating?” Xandor asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow. “It’s a gift from the Gods,” he adds with a far-off smile.

“No, that humans only live to ninety. That means I’ll be long dead before you.” I smirk, waving my hands in his towering face. “My hands will be all old and wrinkly!” I add in a silly voice.

I suppose he’ll eventually replace me with someone else...

The thought hits harder than I expected, filling me with sadness and a trembling lip.

Xandor’s playful demeanor fades as he senses my shift in mood. He stops walking and turns to face me, his expression softening. “Your paths glow brightly like the twin suns above, eclipsing my own in your glorious light.” He brushes a hand over my cheek, his touch tender.

My heart flutters at his dramatic words and his caress, but his meaning could imply a darker future. “Please tell me nothing awful is going to take you away from me?” I plead, searching his face for the truth.

Xandor lets out a short laugh. “I’m hesitant to say too much, in case knowing alters the victorious routes.” He leans down, brushing his nose against mine, staring into my eyes, the closeness surprisingly intense. “But I will say your light burns so fiercely, I can see it banishing the darkness for many hundreds of years.”

But how?

I gasp at his words, relief and surprise flooding through me. Overcome with joy at the prospect of us being together for both our long lives, I say, “I love you so much Xandor, I just want us to be together forever.” I tip-toe, wrapping my arms around him to kiss his sweet, full lips.

“Excuse me...” I almost don’t hear the voice, distracted by Xandor’s lips massaging my own, his massive hand arching my back, pulling me closer, as our tongues collide in a beautiful, heady union.

“EXCUSE ME!” the annoying female voice insists.

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