Page 50 of Scorching the Alien Empire
Not tight enough for my liking.
“Forget you saw anything, or we’ll go for a little rummage through your drawers next,” I snap, my face as red as Sandra’s hair. In a frantic blur, I scoop up the incriminating evidence and stuff it back into the towering wardrobe, slamming the treacherous door shut.
“Come on, let’s see if Dracoth’s done with those boring introductions,” I bark, shoving Sandra toward the exit, using my size advantage to herd her away from this embarrassment.
All morning, my space husband has been stuck in the throne room, entertaining a parade of fighters. I’d stayed as long as I could stand, which wasn’t long. The whole ordeal was the universe’s longest roll call—an endless stream of names, exaggerated war stories, and absurdly grandiose battle feats. Each one more ridiculous and unbelievable than the next. Poor little Todd’s head was spinning.
“All right, all right, give me a chance!” Sandra protests as the bedroom door swooshes open, revealing the wide, gleaming corridor.
Unlike our old junky death trap, with its dusty, rust-speckled surfaces and spooky, empty corridors, this ship is alive and polished to perfection. Black marble gleams underfoot, and the constant din of marching boots and gruff voices fills the halls. Banners and trophies line the walls with all the unsophisticated subtlety of a horned-up frat house—but it’s an improvement. A smile tugs at my lips.
One step closer to the top.
“Um...” Sandra mutters, biting her lip as her dazzling blue wrist display glows against the dim corridor. “This way,” she says, pointing to the left.
Praise Arawnoth we have maps for this ship, because if we got lost within this labyrinth of endless halls, we’d never be seenagain. A terrible loss for everybody—the universe would be lost without Todd and me.
We walk in companionable silence, Sandra’s eyes glued to her glowing holographic guide. She calls out directions at every junction, keeping us moving at a steady pace.
Many groups of towering Klendathians pass us, their scarred, jet-black armor shimmering with embedded flecks of gemstones. Their long hair, shaved bare at the sides, lends them a ferocious appearance—part medieval space-knight, part bone-in-the-nose savage.
Each is broad-shouldered and towering, even by their kind’s formidable standards. Unlike the granddads back in Scarn’s volcanic mountain, these guys range from fresh-faced young to seasoned middle age. Their eyes gleam with a mix of cunning and confidence, their swagger claiming ownership of everything in sight.
Their respect doesn’t escape me. Several nod as they pass, their gazes lingering on my chieftainess cloak. I tug it closer around my shoulders, relishing the quiet admiration, which makes me love Dracoth’s gift all the more.
It sends a thrill through me. These brutal killers belong tous. Our own private army.
Who else could boast that back on Earth? The president? The king of England? Elon Musk? Please. They can’t even figure out how to colonize Mars, while I’ve already got my own spaceship palace—decked out with super-important Elerium, enough trophies to fill a museum, and, oh yeah, the title of War Chieftainess. Beat that.
Yes. I must be the most powerful woman alive... oh, wait. There’s still that bitch Rocks. She’s like the one smudge on my otherwise perfect crown. Soon I’ll knock her down a peg—and hoist myself up two.
A handsome fighter stomps past, his piercing blue eyes and confident smile pulling me from my glorious musings.
“War Chieftainess,” he greets with a cocky nod, his voice laced with a hint of mischief that’s oh-so-very appealing.
“Well,hello there,” I purr, my voice dripping with allure as my gaze lingers—so much so that I nearly walk into Sandra’s back.
“Sandra,” I whisper, nudging her with my shoulder, “what about that one? His eyes are blue like yours.” The image of little Klendathian-Sandra babies makes me gasp with excitement. “Imagine how blue your kids’ eyes will be!”
“Huh?” Sandra mutters, her disinterested confusion pouring water on my enthusiasm. “Oh, sorry, what was that? Something about kids?” Her eyes flick from her wrist console to mine, a smile lighting up her face. “Hold on—are you... pregnant?”
“Please.” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I’m far too young for that.”
Although, we probably should use protection. Maybe a shield or two...
Sandra gasps, her eyes widening in horror, then amusement. “God, with Dracoth’s size, it’d be like giving birth to a baby elephant.” Her hand flies to her mouth to stifle a laugh, but it’s already too late.
“Right, no more talk about babies or elephants, thank you very much!” I declare, clapping my hands over my ears like a child and chanting, “Lalala, not listening!”
Yep, we’re definitely using protection from now on.
We continue down the corridor in silence, following the blue neon map cast from Sandra’s wrist console. The polished black marble of the halls hums with distant vibrations, the faint clang of boots echoing in the distance. Suddenly, a darting blur and a soft buzzing noise up ahead make us both halt.
“What is that?” I ask, squinting into the purple and blue dimness.
We edge closer, each step deliberate, like two very cautious sexy mice sneaking past a hungry cat.
“It looks like... a drone?” Sandra says, peering down the corridor.
