Page 264 of Scorching the Alien Empire
“Stop resisting Divine Father’s blessing, you little scamp.” His needle-like legs blur with frantic motion, but she clamps down on his squishy body, dabbing ash onto his trembling head. “Scourge the jelly-sticks, embrace the chunk. Let the poops be reborn far away from my divine presence.” Her mock-sermon is absurd, but Todd rubs his head against her finger anyway, croaking in his insectoid way.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
My head snaps toward the sound.
“Enter,” I command. The door shimmers from solid to holograph—Nebian tech, strange and clever.
Consul Juliara steps in, flanked by two laser-armed guards. Her beady yellow eyes slowly sweep across the room, clicking her tongue with distaste at the deep gorges and dents I’ve made.
“The sooner this... barbaric business is concluded, the better.” She sighs, as if carrying the weight of her entire people. “Which, mercifully, is soon. I’m here to escort you to the shuttle. Follow me,” she adds, already turning on stubby legs. “And try not to... break anything.”
“Rude. Prick,” Princesa mutters behind me.
I squeeze through the doorway, trying not to buckle the frame any further. But sparks fly as my father’s arcweave armor scrapes the thin metal like parchment.
“Wee. Lightshow,” Princesa murmurs in delight.
A smile tugs at my lips—whether from her words or the relief of being able to straighten in the corridor, I can’t say.
Two hulking purple Nebian Battlesuits fall in behind us. I feel their presence like claws at my back—a threat. A warning, bornof fear. They reek of it. I taste it in the cold, sterile air. My primal instincts flare. My claws twitch.
Consul Juliara marches ahead, her legs a blur of pompous urgency. They’re amusing—the Nebians. I could stride over her as if she were a mere stone. Reduce her to blue pulp in an instant. And yet, she holds her nose high, clad in her ridiculous white robe with the circular disc framing her head, pretending it makes her more.
But without their tech, they are nothing—just arrogance wrapped in conceit.
“I trust you understand... the importance of this contest.” she calls over her shoulder. Her bulbous face twists. “Yes?”
“Yes,” I growl.
“Obviously,” Princesa sighs in tandem.
“Of course, I’m referring to the enlightened, twin-sunned empire,” Juliara clarifies, her voice sharp with contempt. “I care not for petty tribal squabbles among the lesser aliens. I find the whole affairrepulsive. A stain on the history of our people. Still, I understand the Imperator’s...complicatedposition.”
Nebians pass us as we walk. They offer stiff bows to the Consul—until my shadow falls across them. Then their blue faces blanch, and their hearts falter. They scatter from our path like ash.
Pathetic.
“That birthday present idea sounds really appealing right now, doesn’t it,babes?” Princesa barks a short laugh.
“Indeed,” I concede.
“Please try to focus,” Consul Juliara chides, swaying with elegant disdain. Her blonde hair spills past her disc-shaped headpiece like a golden curtain. “You’ve already proven yourself disappointing in this matter.” Her gaze slices to Princesa.
“Hey!” Princesa shrieks. “Listen, blueberry head—where the hell do you get off—”
“I.” Juliara lingers on the word like a blade. “Get. Off. As you put it, when you remove Krogoth and lead your...brethrenagainst the Scythians. As was promised by that repugnantWarrior of Peace.” She sighs, long-suffering. “Barbarians always forget their end of the deal the moment they get what they want.”
Our boots and the whirling Battlesuits hammer the orange-rust floor, shaking the walls lined with intricate statues and decadent murals.
“Did I notfacilitateyour talks with your fellows?” she continues sharply, eyes locked ahead. “The Praetorians granted you access. Do you recall, or has that detail slipped your undeveloped craniums?”
Princesa vibrates beside me with fury, until she strokes Todd’s back vigorously. “Of course I remember. I’m human, not a goldfish.”
“And yet a... goldfish as you call it, might have achieved more. Despite your unique advantage you still failed to secure the votes. Disappointing. Though not unexpected, considering your...volatilenature.”
“Okay. Fucking rude,” Princesa snaps. “You try winning a vote against a super-bitch whomind controlspeople.”
She tugs on my arm, eyes glinting. “Psst. Hey. How about a hit of that yummy Mr. Frowny Face bond juice?” she whispers conspiratorially, brows arching suggestively. “I’ll make us blueberry smoothies.”
