Page 58 of Torn from the Alien Commander

“What?” Xandor and I exclaim in unison, glaring down at the Nebian female wearing a white robe with a hovering drone.

She recoils in horror, a hand to her chest, not helped by Xandors bared fangs. “Bloody off-worlders, so uncivilized,” she mutters, collecting herself and straightening her flowing clothes. “I trust you two... people are here for the Consulate meeting?” The short red-haired female looks us up and down, before settling on a haughty raised nose that’s too big for her squat face.

“Indeed, we are, my tragically large-nosed friend,” Xandor replies with a looming, predatory smile, while I try not to giggle. “Is there something you require from us, other than rudely interrupting my love and me?”

“I’m rude?” The Nebian female snaps back, her light blue skin deepening. “Open fornication is forbidden within public buildings, but it shouldn’t need to be stated. Such uncouth displays are not the actions of a polite society.”

“Politeness,” Xandor snorts, sounding bored. “Is a means of control,” he adds with a frown. “Tell me, stifling one, which way to the meeting?”

The white-robed Nebian sighs loudly. “Please observe,” she gestures to the massive marble doors, a striking difference to the usual Nebian style, hinting at its ancient construction.

“My thanks,” Xandor says, turning to leave, his muscular arm protectively wrapping around me, making me feel safe. “Come, my love.”

“Wait!” the annoying Nebian exclaims. “You can’t just stroll in. There are protocols to follow.”

Xandor groans, turning, while I worry his impatience and disdain for the Nebians may jeopardize his mission of peace. “Protocols, how... Nebian,” he states, his tone dripping with contempt. “Ask your inane questions.”

The Nebian frowns, meeting Xandor’s stern, glowing golden eye. “What are your designations?” She asks, activating her holographic wrist console.

Xandor sighs. “You must know why we’re here?” I clutch his arm in an unspoken gesture for calmness—at least I hope so.

“It’s for the records. Now if you would,” the female Nebian insists.

“I’m Xandor the Second—no. The Warrior of Peace,” Xandor corrects himself, nodding with approval.

“Xandor, The Warrior of...” The female’s orange eyes shift from her projection to Xandor with a grimace. “Peace...” she adds, lingering on the word in disbelief. “Very good. And you lass?” she asks, her gaze waiting expectedly, prompting my pulse to rise.

What is my title? Former slave? Earth mercenary? Strange healer?

“Um, I’m Tyrxie...” I pause, struggling to come up with a satisfactory response.

“Her title is Kor-Kis,” Xandor interjects, beaming down at me. I recognize the harsh, sharp tongue as Klendathian, but the meaning is unknown to me.

“What does that mean?” I whisper, tiptoeing to reach Xandor’s towering ears.

Xandor gives a short laugh, a glint of mischief in his eye. “You’ll find out,” is all he offers as I search his face, wondering what silly title he’s just given me.

Probably means ferocious eater or something.

“Kor-Kis, Tyrxie... very good,” the Nebian states, her deft hands darting over the holographic projection. “Now, are you carrying any weapons on your personage?” she adds, eyeing Xandor with suspicion. It’s funny she presumes he might be the one concealing weapons—he’s far too brazen for that—unlike me...

“Just these,” Xandor declares with a smirk, extending his long, razor-sharp claws that glint in the blue-tinted light.

The female Nebian gasps with a hand to her ample bosom. “Twin suns!” she exclaims in fright. As I thumb my precious locket, my other hand fingers the hilt of my long knife concealed in my polymer jacket.

“Can’t you remove those ghastly weapons?” The Nebian female insists, her tone tinged with disapproval.

“Remove my claws?” Xandor’s face twists into a fearsome sneer, filling me with dread. “Haven’t you Nebians taken enough from me!” he sneers. Many of the Nebians in the large room halt to stare, muttering in condemnation.

My heart aches for my love, the trauma of his brutal torture twisting his better nature.But I will guide him back to the hero I know he is.I place a comforting hand on the wounded remnants of his arm, projecting my love and healing through my touch.

“He can’t remove his claws. It’s part of his body,” I interject, glaring at the frowning female Nebian. “That’s like asking to remove your teeth because they’re sharp.”

Mercifully, Xandor exhales loudly, and his body relaxes under my soothing touch, filling me with relief. The female Nebian scrutinizes Xandor for a moment, while I watch with bated breath. “Very well. Please submit to a scan,” she commands.

Submit. Poor choice of words.

Thankfully, Xandor remains calm, opening his posture with his arm outstretched. The small white drone emits a green light, bathing Xandor from top to bottom, then back again. My chest flutters in mild panic as I caress my hidden knife, knowing I’ll be scanned soon.

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