Page 60 of Torn from the Alien Commander

Infused by raw emotion, I channel my healing powers through my hands, the gentle green glow a physical manifestation of my words, yearning to reach his troubled mind.

Xandor’s expression softens, the hardness in his eye giving way to a faint smile. “My Kor-Kis, my beautiful soul,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against mine, creating an intimate space that’s ours alone. I wrap my arms around him, overcome with love, feeling the tension in his immense muscles ease as his rich scent fills my lungs. I never want to let go. “For you, Tyrxie, I’ll be the hero you deserve.”

Some Nebians pass by, giving us strange looks. Our exchange no doubt breaches their strict social conduct, but I don’t care—this moment is ours. Something real, something tangible in a vast, uncaring universe, and I’ll fight to my last breath to protect it.

For a blissful moment, we stand there, Xandor’s smile growing stronger with each heartbeat a reflection of mine. Then he nods, his confidence returning “Right, time for this Warrior of Peace to bring harmony amongst the short-stuffs,” he laughs deeply, fully himself again.

As we turn to face the looming doors of the consulate chamber, I feel a renewed sense of determination and lightness, like a weight has lifted from my shoulders. Xandor pushes open the gigantic door, graciously offering me to enter.

I beam at him. “No, after you, my golden hero.”

Chapter 20

Xandor

Peace

“How gracious, my sexylittle puffrio,” I reply, brimming with renewed resolve and a lightness I haven’t felt in—perhaps ever. It’s as if Tyrxie has drawn the darkness out of my soul, just as she removes pain and heals wounds. The Gods have truly blessed me, and I will not betray their gifts or her trust. I will control my rage; I will bring peace.

Stepping inside, I’m stuck by the immensity of the room, ancient in its grandeur. The timeless marble suggests the Nebians hold it in reverence. I frown at the imposing vertical seating arrangement: rows of elevated marble benches rising in concentric tiers—complete with important looking short-stuffs.They’re positioned to peer down upon the central floor, their attention focused on the Imperator in the center.

As we approach, our footsteps echo across the grand space, amplified by the soaring ceilings topped with a dominating domed skylight. But I’m more interested in placing the numerous guards dotted along the rim, and the immense battlesuits standing like statues. Retreat will be difficult; the only entrance is the one we’ve just come through.

Behind us, the door bangs shut, as if in response to my thoughts. The sudden noise startles Tyrxie, making her whirl around and reach in her sleeve for a knife she shouldn’t have. So fierce, she warms my heart and brings a smile to my face. But she has nothing to fear—not anymore.

I place a reassuring arm around her petite waist. “Look at them up there,” I nod at the ludicrously high heights of the Consuls. “Like little angry puffrios gawking at us from trees.”

“As long as that’s the only thing they’re doing,” Tyrxie retorts, her eyes now spying the towering battlesuits.

It’s obvious this room is designed to intimidate.Is it for my benefit, or does everyonereceivethis welcome?We won’t wait long to find out. Closer now, I notice the heart of the chamber: a circular platform made of translucent, shimmering material that pulses with an inner light. The Imperator stands waiting, surrounded by low glowing rings, one orange, the other blue.

“Hail, Imperator Bulba, fourth of your name, protector of the twin-sunned empire!” I boom, my voice resonating through the immense space as I lower my head to the gleaming marble floor. I hate every second of this debasement, but I swallow my pride, choosing the path of peace.

Tyrxie scrambles to join me, and we both share a sneaky, hidden smile. “Rise, please. There’s no need for the ancient formalities, although your knowledge of them does you credit,” the Imperator greets us.

Information I gleaned from one of the paths. A version of me that somehow enjoys reading—Scholar’s pet Xandor.

“Thank you, Dominus,” I say, standing almost distracted, noticing the ringed tiers the Consuls sit upon is rotating slowly. “But forgive me, I had hoped we had already acquired suitable credit to discuss the alliance terms in a less...” My gaze sweeps the room, lingering on the battlesuits. “... formal setting.”

“You’re fortunate you’re not rotting in a cell for assaulting our Imperial palace and killing Prefect Horaxus Domna!” an irksome female voice echoes through the chamber, amplified from an unseen location.

I offer a mocking smile, raising the stump of my arm for all to see. “I can’t say I enjoyed losing my eye and arm in your... less-than-hospitable cells,” I say, tone dripping with false contrition. “And I’m rather loath to lose the others.” Turning to Tyrxie with a smirking shrug, I add, “How would I wipe my ass?”

Tyrxie scrunches her beautiful face as if she’s eaten something sour. It’s to be expected, but she has nothing to fear. I won’t fail, and there’s no reason not to have some fun. Mutters of disapproval echo from above, like the useless droppings of wild, noisy puffrios. But my gaze falls to the Imperator as he suppresses a chuckle—he is the key.

“Drones is the answer,” The Imperator mutters with a smile before turning to the Consuls, his voice booming. “Prefect Horaxus Domna’s actions brought shame to us all! A Klendathian peace envoy destroyed, their ambassador tortured. It’s only by the strangest twist of fate that we’re given this second chance to make amends. Let’s not squander it!”

It’s jarring to see the Imperator now, his bearing proud, his eyes clear and focused, his voice loud and steady. He seems like a different person, hundreds of years younger—Tyrxie’s gift is truly a miracle. A far cry from our initial meeting, where theImperator’s simple mind clung to his fragile body, faint as a whisper.

A cacophony of muttering and grumbling twitches my long ears, although the great height and rotation of the Consuls makes it difficult to ascertain their overall attitudes. “I would like to review the security streams,” a male’s amplified voice echoes.

The Imperator stiffens at the request, mirroring a sliver of my own displeasure. “Is this to be a trial, then? Accused by faceless voices mimicking gods upon the clouds?” A rage shimmers within me, ready to erupt. “Haven’t I...” my voice tapers off, remembering my vow to Tyrxie and the future worth preserving. “Forgive my outburst. It’s been a trying few days.”

Tyrxie, my love, squeezes next to me, offering a heartwarming smile and nod.At least she appreciates my titanic efforts.“Understandable, Ambassador Xandor,” the Imperator states with a slight nod. “But let us indulge Consul Gnaeuthan’s request, so we can move on to more hopeful matters.”

At his words, dozens of drones assemble, forming a hovering square which fills the gulf of empty space in the massive room. Each emits a glowing blue holographic projection—part of a whole, forming the largest screen I’ve ever seen.

“Wow,” Tyrxie exclaims, her head tilted upward, her beautiful emerald eyes glittering with wonder. The enormous projection shifts to show a recording of me charging up the stairs in the Imperator’s fortress.

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