Page 64 of Torn from the Alien Commander

I chuckle at his silly complaints. “If you’re leaving, then so am I. I’ve been wanting to scratch my nose for ages!”

“Oh?” Xandor wastes no time rubbing my nose in a blinding flash of movement, so quick I can’t even react. “Better?”

“Yes, actually, thank you,” I say, slightly embarrassed, hoping no one noticed in the giant projections.

“I could really use a piss. But I don’t want to leave, not until I get my sword back,” Xandor states with an eager smirk.

He’s getting it back?

I resist the urge to ask how he knows—Xandor seems to know everything now. It’s unsettling at times, speaking with him. His single eye often glazes over as if he’s seeing something beyond the moment, and he speaks with a certainty that borders on the uncanny. What troubles me most is the fear that he mightbe feigning interest. Why ask when the ceremony begins if he already knows? It unnerves me, but I’m determined to keep him anchored in the present.

A sleek, purple-trimmed-in-gold Nebian ship comes pulsing into view, interrupting my troubled thoughts. The enormous crowd erupts into raucous cheering as my pulse rises, knowing it must be the Imperator. “Come to Xandor,” my love chuckles, eyeing the landing vessel with greed.

The ship halts with surprising speed and precision, a fraction above the platform. Its door opens upward, revealing the Imperator flanked by seven Nebians who must be the Consuls. All dressed in colorful high-collared robes that soar past their heads as if reaching for the stars. The cheering of the crowd becomes deafening as I find myself seeking comfort in Xandor’s powerful arm.

“Everything will be fine, my little puffrio,” Xandor assures me as we focus on the approaching procession. An honor guard of purple Nebian battlesuits hovers above, their presence adding to the ear-splitting din and overwhelming atmosphere that seems to shake the very ground and electrify the air.

To our right, a musical band with strange luminescent instruments and young Nebian singers dressed in gleaming white begins a pulsing, driving rhyme heightened with a celestial sense of haunting harmonics from the singers. It gives the impression of a great powerful force coming from among the heavens.

The Imperator turns to wink at us, and I smile back, despite feeling so overwhelmed by this momentous event. All the massive projections now focus on the Imperator, giving me a sense of relief, as he approaches a hovering circular platform that projects rings of orange and blue. He floats into the air with his hands raised, basking in the adoration of the roaring throng.

“Brothers and sisters of the twin-suns!” The Imperator’s voice booms out, amplified by unknown means. “I stand before you this day renewed; thanks to the two visitors from distant stars, you see before you!” he gestures towards Xandor and me, my face feeling like molten plasma has heated it. The crowd erupts into deafening cheers once again, forcing the Impetrator to wait.

“A gift from you, my Kor-Kis,” Xandor whispers in my ear, his hot breath sending a tingle down my spine.

From my quick studies of Nebia, it’s well known Bulba the Fourth was a faded genius. Many Nebians thought it an ill omen that, in their time of greatest need, their trusted leader, who they looked to for a thousand years, had all but abandoned them, lost to a strange madness.

But I brought him back, like I did Xandor. A gift from who? Xandor’s Gods?

“And now a new way forward is revealed!” The Imperator’s voice echoes out as he waits for his words to settle. “An alliance with the Klendathians! Together, we shall turn the tide against the Fallen Scythians, a stunning victory before a lasting peace. A peace that will echo through the ages!” The words boom out over a sea of joyous cheers that hitch my breath.

“Now as a symbol of our everlasting peace, and to right that which should never have happened. I offer these gifts to our esteemed allies!” the Imperator gestures beyond him to his many Nebian attendees. Four of them approach carrying a long, heavy black object that can only be the sword Xandor spoke of.

Xandor beams beside me, his excitement palpable. He joins the struggling Nebians, grasping the massive sword with ease, his eye admiring the new addition of the scabbard of the deepest black with intricate glowing golden symbols etched into it. “It’s even more beautiful than I envisioned,” Xandor mutters in awe. He struggles, placing the strap over his shoulder.

I rush over, my heart yearning to spare him any embarrassment. “You’ve earned this a hundred times over,” I congratulate him as I help loop the strap over his shoulder, fixing it tight to his armor.

“Let’s give it a whirl,” Xandor smiles at me. The crowd is now silent. Only the buzzing of machines overhead and the pulsing music can be heard. Xandor unsheathes the sword in a single graceful motion, stepping into an empty area.

“Nothing can ever mend that which was taken and suffered. But I, Imperator Bulba, the Fourth, bestow upon you a piece of our sacred technology, a symbol of our repentance, and of our trust,” the Imperator’s voice booms through the immense courtyard.

Xandor activates his sword, placing the glowing weapon before his face. “And those are the words engraved on it!” The Imperator adds as Xandor crouches low, his chest rising and falling, golden mist spilling from his eye. He leaps into a blinding flourish of slashes and thrusts, gliding and dancing through the air with fluid grace.

At first, he moves with dazzling, mesmerizing speed, flowing from one poise to another with smooth precision. His green hair drifts behind him, each strand catching the light as he spins and twists, a living whirlwind of color and energy. The sword leaves a trail of glowing crimson arcs, cutting through the air with an almost musical hum.

The crowd mutters in disbelief, their eyes unable to follow his movements as Xandor’s speed increases further, becoming a blur of motion. He seems to defy gravity, his feet barely touching the ground as he performs intricate maneuvers, his body a blur of green and gold. The sword flickers and flashes, a radiant extension of his will, carving patterns in the air that linger like afterimages in the crowd’s dazzled eyes.

My heart soars, watching his impossible speed, pride for my male overwhelming me. He is a force of nature, an unstoppable tempest of elegance and power.

As quickly as it started, he reappears, his chest heaving with effort and a broad smile before bowing towards the roaring audience. “A limb for a limb. I shall treasure it always!” he declares between gulps of air, his voice carried by some amplification.

The ground vibrates as the horde of attendees stomp their feet in appreciation of the stunning display. “With allies like Ambassador Xandor, the Scythians can’t stand against us!” the Imperator laughs, soon joined by the throng of others.

Xandor returns to stand beside me, smiling as he re-sheathes his massive sword. “You were amazing,” I beam up at him.

“Tis but a trifle,” he replies in a mocking voice, his hungry gaze drinking in my body in a wonderful, exciting way.

“Next, for the ship that was tragically destroyed, I bestow this!” the Imperator declares, gesturing towards the purple and gold Nebian vessel he and the Consuls arrived in. My mouth falls open in disbelief, looking at Xandor who nods with a knowing smile. “Our latest Starfighter, envied throughout the galaxies, however stripped of its laser cannons, downgraded to plasma. We can’t give away all our secrets, can we?” he adds with laughter directed towards the crowd who cheer in agreement.

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