Page 212 of Scorching the Alien Empire
“Yeah, I see,” Sandra leans back nodding after studying my eye. “Is that why you brought his mother?” she nods toward the seated woman. “For this meeting?”
“Yep,” I admit without hesitation, grinning.
I’m not showing up without my Charizard again.
“And,” I add with a mischievous glint, “You’re going to help me too.”
“Oh, really?” Sandra crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, really.” I stroke Todd’s plump, segmented belly, loving the look of surprise curling across her face. “You know this Krogoth guy? He’s just like Dracoth. Bonded to a human woman.”
Her jaw drops in an adorable way.
“Her name’s Rocks.” I roll my eyes. “Ugh, such a dumb name. But anyway, I want you to come with me to the meeting. Be your usual sunshine self—extra nice, super friendly. Shouldn’t be hard, right? That’ssoyou.” I smirk. “Befriend her. Get close. And then... feed me all the juicy details. Anything I can use.”
I watch her closely, waiting for the hesitation. The judgment. The “Lexie, are you seriously trying to infiltrate a super-important political summit through brunch tactics” look.
Instead, she grins like a kid handed a water pistol.
“Class!” she beams, banishing my fears. “I can’t wait to meet her. She must havecrazystories.” Then her smile dims, her brows creasing. “But... will these weird Nebians even let me in? Especially if it’s an important meeting?”
“Pfft. Totally,” I say, far too quickly. Confidence: fabricated. “I’ll just say you’re my... ginger-in-waiting.” I blink innocently. “I mean, it’s technically true.”
Sandra grimaces, unimpressed. “Ha. Very funny.” She rolls her blue eyes but doesn’t argue. “I don’t care what you tell them, as long as I can meet Rocks. And stay on this ship.”
She hops back onto the floating bed like a smug ginger cat, her limbs dangling off both sides. “So cozy,” she sighs, burrowing deeper into the mattress.
She’s right. This ship—The Impersonators Hand,or whatever it’s called—is a total vibe. Not the worst architecture. I can reach drawers. Super fresh air. No hum of machines. Apparently, there’s spaghetti and actual toilets, it’s like if a five-star spa and a war machine had a baby.
Except for the weird little blue creeps.
They’ve been giving usmajorstink-eye since the shuttle docked. Especially around Dracoth. You can practically feel them quaking in their segmented armor. Awkward silences. Stubby fingers twitching toward weapons. Every. Time.
It’s honestly so rude.
But that’s just Dracoth. He’s a living panic button in obsidian armor. I kind of love it—my big scary meatball head.
Still... maybe Peacock Big-Chief has the right idea—conquering these little Nibs. I mean, it’s clear these guys aren’t your average bone-through-the-nose types. They’readvanced. Like... actually advanced. You can tell by the weapons, ships, and holodecks, and that they don’t threaten to bash each other over the head every five minutes. These aren’t space hobos banging pots together and duct-taping wings on a toaster.
I lean back, eyes drifting to the ceiling with a little dreamy sigh.
Just imagine it—the Lexie-verse. Ruling beside Dracoth. An empire of tiny, awkward aliens at our feet. Adoring. Terrified. Obedient.
Glorious.
“Thanks Sandra, I won’t forget you when I’m bossing it up.” The thought wraps around me like a cozy blanket on a lazy Sunday morning.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.” I wave her off, pretending to focus on fluffing the pointy shoulders of Mrs. Dracoth’s robes.
Maybe the more pointy, the more important?
I should be dressed like a hedgehog, in that case...
“Aren’t you nervous?” Sandra asks, practically swimming like a goldfish in the floating bedspread. “Meeting all these important aliens—”
“Wait.” I shoot up a hand. “Dracoth’s coming.”
