Page 155 of Scorching the Alien Empire
The fleeting thought of crushing him between my barriers crosses my mind, but the effort hardly seems worth it.
I sigh and turn to Sandra. “Let me see that.” I reach for her wrist console.
“Hey!” She jerks back, glaring at me. “Youdohave yourownconsole, remember?”
Oh. Right.
She watches patiently as I fumble with my wrist device, an endless sea of holographic options flashing before me. The sheer volume of choices makes my head spin.
“Um...” I squint at the unfamiliar interface. “Which one—?”
Sandra tuts, feigning annoyance as she effortlessly flicks through my screen. “Here. Justswipe through these.”
A shimmering projection hovers above my wrist console, displaying yet another suit of bone-through-the-nose armor. I scoff. Of course,thatwould be the first option. It’s all these guys ever wear—big, bulky, and utterly impractical for anything other than bashing each other over the head.
I brush my fingers through the image, distorting it like ripples in water, then continue swiping through the available designs. My expression darkens with each disappointing option. Nothing but clothing tailored for oversized meatheads. Just like Razgor said—why would a warship built for space-knights without women have anything remotely suited for them?
Then, something catches my eye.
“Wait, wait.” I stop, scrutinizing the strange outfit: leather trousers, a fitted vest, and a long coat split down the middle. The whole thing ishideous, but the shoulders... they’re oddly familiar. Garish, pointed pauldrons that extend outward like angry pyramids.
“I’ve seen this before... during the Mortakin—” I catch myself, snapping my mouth shut, picturing Dracoth glowering at me, arms folded, full-on Mr. Frowny Face mode. “Whoops. Uh... I mean, Divine Mother’s robes had similar shoulders,” I correct smoothly.
Sandra squints at the display, unimpressed. “That looks mental. How did they even fit through doors?” She giggles.
I smirk. “I guess the women were trying to be aswideas the men weretall.”
We both laugh, but the more I look at it, the more I think I’m onto something.
“I think this version is for men, but the women had a flowing, robed version,” I say, shrugging. “Just a guess, though.”
Sandra nods, her excitement growing. “It’s a start.” She turns to her own console, her fingers flying across the interface at speeds that could rival Todd’s skittering legs. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do now.”
Movement catches my eye.
Across the room, Ruzeta, the red-haired female Klendathian, shuffles between the other women, repeatedly asking if they’ve seen Gorexius. No one responds. Either they don’t hear her or they don’t have the answers she wants. But she doesn’t stop searching. She just keeps going, lost in an endless loop, oblivious—or uncaring—of the silence that meets her pleas.
A pang of sadness grips me. I wish I could do more for them.
I tear my gaze away and turn to Razgor. “Did you try thelust gas?” I ask.
Razgor freezes, his fingers pausing mid-tap. His brows knit together. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”
Sandra doesn’t even look up from her console. “Relax, Razgor. Lexie doesn’t have a filter.”
Rude!
“She means the healing pods.” Sandra adds, her voice dripping with the weight of the obvious.
Razgor exhales sharply. “Why not justsaythat?” He shoots me a disapproving look before continuing. “That was the first thing I tried—after I used them myself.” He flexes his left arm, testing it. Just yesterday, it had been half-melted and dangling uselessly at his side like wet spaghetti. “But like I said before,” his attention shifts to the women, “physically, there’snothingwrong with them.”
I groan loudly. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.
Razgor hums thoughtfully. “Oh, that reminds me. Last time I passed the medbay, I saw the War Chieftain himself using a pod.” His tone is casual, as if he just mentioned the weather, completely unaware of thenuclear bombhe just dropped. “Makes me feel better that even—”
“What thehelldo you mean Dracoth is using a pod?” My voice cuts through his nonsense like a serrated knife.
Razgor and Sandra both flinch at the venom in my tone.
