Page 11 of Alien Captain's Prisoner

The smirk is plastered across his face, as cocky and confident as though that confrontation with the Toads had never happened.

If I’d had a mother.

I remember something else Sawoot told me about Aurelians – none of them have a mother.

Well, maybe a few hundred out of the entire species do – those born by the rare human females who are Bonded to a triad of the species.

I might not know as much about Aurelians as Sawoot – our resident expert – but after what she’d told me, I’d done my research. The only way Aurelians can father children naturally is via a human female who is genetically compatible with them – and just one woman, out of the billions stretched across the universe, can give that gift to one specific triad.

They call such a woman their Fated Mate – and finding her is the overriding purpose of every Aurelian, whether they’re aligned to the Empire, or they’ve gone Rogue.

It doesn’t excuse the disgusting way the all-male species lust after human women, but it does explain it. It’s why Aurelians collect their huge harems of women – hoping each new addition will be the one woman they’ve spent their lives looking for. It’s why some Aurelians have gone Rogue – acquiring women as slaves if the ones they lust after don’t join their harem voluntarily.

That’s what they say, anyway. Sometimes, I think it’s just an excuse they use – justifying their obnoxious, misogynistic behavior as necessary in the search for their Fated Mate.

Without that fabled Fated Mate – the one woman who can bear a triad natural sons – the Aurelian species is forced to reproduce through cryo-chambers. That’s where they spend their last moments – carried into a cryogenic cloning chamber when they’re at the brink of their thousands of years of life. As one Aurelian dies of old age, a perfect genetic clone is created as an infant – or, at least, as close to perfect as possible.

But the process itself is far from perfect. Each generation of Aurelians is making a copy of a copy… of a copy. It’s said the Aurelians born of a Fated Mate are stronger, healthier, and more powerful – while those born of the cryo-chamber are a consistently weaker version of the Aurelian who came before them.

That’s offered as an explanation for why Aurelians of ancient legend were described as standing eight-feet-tall or more, while specimens like Captain Aelon are a smaller – though still impressive – seven-feet in height. The species grows smaller and weaker with each subsequent generation.

But the bigger problem? Simply that cryo-chambers can’t be brought into battle. For an Aurelian to be born, one must die – but not all Aurelians live long enough to make it to a cryo-chambers when they kick the bucket. Their warlike species wages a constant battle against Scorp, pirates, and occasionally even Toads – and each time an Aurelian dies in battle, rather than a cryo-chamber, their number is lost forever.

Their species is –was– slowly, but surely dying out.

Only the Bond can save them.

The Bond – the curious connection between a Fated Mate and a specific triad of Aurelians – had remained dormant for eons; until people spoke of it almost as legend. The Aurelian species itself was losing hope; slowly dwindling as Scorp and other menaces reduced their numbers.

Then, centuries ago, one human woman ushered in a new era for the Bond.

She was called Jasmine.

Born from nothing, Jasmine was the Fated Mate of a triad of brave, brilliant warriors. The leader of that triad, Reagan, became Emperor, and as his Fated Mate, Jasmine was crowned Queen. Since then, she’s sired the Aurelian race dozens of vibrant, powerful sons.

Today, she’s hundreds of years old – but she looks the same age as me, if the holo-vids are to be believed. In addition to allowing a human female to bear the sons of Aurelians, the Bond grants a Fated Mate a lifespan equal to that of an Aurelian; so she can live out her life alongside that of her three mates.

Jasmine hasn’t aged a day, despite the passing of centuries.

She’s my hero.

In addition to her duty of perpetuating the Aurelian race – giving birth to son after son for her triad – Queen Jasmine has also become one of the most forthright voices in the complex relationship between humans and Aurelians.

At her insistence, a host of new protocols and laws have been introduced to give human women a better position in society. Jasmine is the reason that women from an Aurelian Harem are now guaranteed a full education and boarding after they serve their Aurelian masters for three years or more.

Queen Jasmine is also the reason women aren’t left without any employable skills when they grow too old for the tastes of their alien harem keepers. While a human woman ages normally – turning forty or fifty as part of a harem – the Aurelians she serves will continue to appear the same age.

In the past, such women would have been relegated to non-sexual roles like maid service, or cook – but now, thanks to Queen Jasmine, they have options to pursue vocational training that can give them the resources to create a life of their own, outside of the harem.

These seem like simple, decent things – but they hadn’t existed before Jasmine’s coronation. Aurelians live thousands of years – so before Jasmine’s arrival, the species couldn’t help but look down on humanity as childlike and weak; worthy of pity and protection.

Which is understandable - we must be like bugs to them, living brief flashes of life.

But Queen Jasmine has changed all that – and in thinking of Queen Jasmine, I find my strength.

I look up defiantly at Captain Aelon and growl: “My crew must be treated with care.”

Too late, I realize that’s thewrongapproach to getting what I want from Captain Aelon.

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