Page 63 of Torn from the Alien Commander

I breathe a sigh of relief and joy, knowing Felixus will be safe, even if it means enduring my endless taunts.Yep, events areturning out better than expected.“And your second stipulation, Ambassador?” the Imperator inquires.

The question slices through my elation like the sharpest venefex claw. There’s a remnant of the darkness in me that urges me to hold my tongue. But I suppress it as the two main future paths for the Nebians hang in the balance, the larger one leading off into oblivion, the other bright and leading to glory. All hinging on one thing.

I take a deep breath, the weight of billions of lives at stake. “Your NeuroLinks invite disaster. The Scythians will hack your network. They will take control,” I declare, my expression stern. My words hang in the air like a virus bomb, the miasmas taking time to spread.

“This is an outrage! He seeks to undermine our greatest advantage!” The angry voice of the female Consul challenges from above. “This whole sorry idea is a likely setup!”

That went about as well as I expected.

“Silence!” The Imperator roars, raising a hand. He shakes with tiny fury, me as the focus. “You know this how? All our scientists assured us the Scythians could not cross from the logarithmic barrier to the neuronic impulses!”

The Nebians reek of false certainty, their arrogance in their technology leading to their demise.

My mind reels, struggling to think of an explanation other than I can divine the futures. A truth that’ll either lead me to being laughed out of the room or studied under a healer’s knife. “You said it yourself. The Scythians are masters of cyber-organics. I assure you, it’s only a matter of time.”

“A Klendathian brute knows better than our finest minds! How ridiculous,” a male Consul mocks from above, perhaps sealing the fate of his entire species.

But the Imperator’s glowing orange eyes pierce mine, as if weighing every ounce of my soul. I return his glare unblinking,full of hardened resolve, letting him bathe in my harsh truth. A long, awkward tension stretches with not a whisper. “I shall think on this troubling problem,” he announces finally, with a soft shake of his head. “Your alliance offer isn’t dependent on this?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, it’s not a requirement, but my ardent wish is to save your people,” I reply.

The Imperator frowns, stroking his beard. “Very well. In that case, we shall meet in two days to solidify our alliance formally and indulge in some much-needed celebrations!” He lets out a deep breath.

I smile at his words, yet my heart is weary.

The Nebian’s fate looms dark.

Chapter 21

Tyrxie

Gifts

Two days have passedsince we reached the tentative agreement for the Nebian-Klendathian alliance, and now is the time to formalize the pact. I stand awestruck on a raised platform, overlooking a sea of curious Nebians with hair in shades of brown, orange, red and yellow stretching out as far as the eye can see.

Hundreds of drones hover and buzz, adding to the cacophony of the excited murmuring of the enormous crowds. Nebian battlesuits stand or hover through the air and above them loom sleek, arrow-like vessels, patrolling the sky like languid creatures. The setting for this event is the courtyard of the Imperial palace.

It’s surreal to be honored here in celebration when only some days ago, I snuck in as an enemy desperate to reach Xandor.Thank the stars things turned out as they did.Massive banners of various colors and designs flutter over the enormous thick walls of the palace, where ominous laser cannons sit to host more curious Nebians, seeking any vantage point.

A towering statue of Bulba, the first Imperator, looms behind, cast in glittering orange. I marvel, wondering if it’s real Elerium, meaning its value would be beyond measure. I wrinkle my nose, nervous tension building inside as I suppress the urge to scratch my face. Our projections fill Nebia’s sky, and the last thing I want people to think is that I’m picking my nose.

They already think we’re backward savages.

“Relax, my love, you look stunning today,” Xandor smiles, placing a hand on my back. My heart flutters at his gentle touch and words as I smile at his frowning face. “Well, you always look stunning, even when you scurried like a varmint under the ship’s gangways.” He gives a brief chuckle.

Seems like a lifetime ago, a different Tyrxie who would never believe this scene before me now.

Xandor is the beautiful one, posing like a majestic hero in his gleaming armor, his fearsome mask hanging from his belt and his half cloak billowing in the light breeze, covering his missing arm. Not only had the Nebians returned his equipment, but repaired every facet, even replicated his cloak. He looks every bit the noble leader, towering above everyone, danger wrapped up in his infectious good humor and easy smile.

Love flows through me as I look upon him, knowing how well he spoke before the Imperator. Like a different person, he banished his dark impulses and played the part better than I dared hope—my Warrior of Peace.

For my part, I struggled to prepare for this event, wishing I had a uniform or something like Xandor’s armor to make thechoice easier. Instead, I entered the puzzling world of Nebian female fashion—a world with endless depths and numerous pitfalls. For the Nebians, high collars signify social rank, but too much is seen as arrogant, unless deemed worthy. Rules on colors and styles for certain occasions sent my head spinning, making me wish I could just wear my simple shirts and maintenance pants.

In the end, I choose a distinct style—Rebecca’s style—opting for a human dress. I do not know if it’s considered fashionable on Earth, but I thought it was beautiful. A flowing floor-length, deep green dress with a plunging neckline. Xandor seemed to like it when he nearly ravished me on the spot, saying how it matched the emerald depths of my eyes.

He’s such a dramatic charmer.

“Gods, this is turning out like one of Crenix’s boring clan meeting reports,” Xandor states in frustration, although he maintains a smile toward the crowd. “Is an army of short-stuffs supposed to watch us until we keel over from boredom?” My eyes dart across the roaring scene, wondering what comes next.

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