Page 8 of Sawoots Story

My eyes go wide. I thought he was making threats to intimidate the Toad. He’s dead serious. Captain Aelon is unhinged. Even an Independent Aurelian would have to answer for attacking a member of the Toad Empire. It could start a second war between the two species.

The first war almost wiped out all sentient life.

And he’d do it for what? His bruised ego?

“They’re turning around.” A voice comes from his smart-watch.

There’s disappointment in Captain Aelon’s face, as plain as day. He wanted to kill the Toads. He wanted an excuse to plunge our universe into war.

“Of course they are, the cowards. Toads only fight when they outnumber you.” He presses a button on the watch, abruptly cutting the feed.

The towering Aurelian steps towards us.

“Now that’s dealt with, we’ve got the small problem of our little thieves to take care of.” The towering Aurelian snorts. “My mother always warned me that if you invite a thief into your home, you deserve everything that’s taken from you.”

The cocky smile widens.

“At least, that’s what shewouldhave said, if I’dhada mother.”

His smile grows wider, as if he wasn’t just ready to plunge the universe into another Galactic War over his bruised pride.

He’s a motherless bastard, this one. Born of a cryo-chamber. When an Aurelian fails to find his mate—like almost all of them do—then in his last moments he will go into a cryo-chamber, to be cloned and reborn.

The clones aren’t perfect. Each generation of Aurelian isslightlyflawed, slightly weaker. They revere the Bond. The all-male species hunts that one woman in the Universe who can sire their children, and if they find her? They spend the rest of their life breeding her.

The marble-skinned bastards were dying out. I almost hate Queen Jasmine for being Bonded to her triad of Aurelians. She was the first after thousands of years of the powerful creatures dying out. Not all of them got to the cryo-chambers. Most died to vicious Scorp or in space battles, snuffed out, their genetic legacy gone forever.

Good riddance.

Tasha idolizes Queen Jasmine for improving relations between Aurelians and humans, especially in the field of rights for women in harems.

Me?

I don’t trust her. She’s sired many sons for her triad, but sometimes I wonder if she’s the one pulling the strings.

Tasha sticks her chin up, defiant. Bad move. You don’t want to defy a man like Aelon, a man who looks for any excuse for a fight. Better to play like he’s got you scared and stick the knife in when he relaxes.

“My crew must be treated with care.” She makes the demand with a haughty tone that makes me cringe.

Aelon’s eyes narrow. I want to shake Tasha for what she just did. She’s got an ego, and her and the Aurelian captain are like putting together fire and gasoline.

“Your crew will be treated as I see fit. Take them to the brig!” Aelon belts of the command, staring down Tasha. He’s making a statement. You defy him? You get punished. I grit my teeth. I wish I had a way of telling Tasha that poking an Aurelian’s masculinity is the fastest way to be made an example of.

I lean forward and give her a gentle touch on her shoulder. I’m telling her I trust her. Even when she screws up, she’s my captain, and she’s the reason I’m still alive. If there was anyone else behind the controls during our wild escape we’d all be dust.

I owe her my life a dozen times over.

A triad of Aurelians stomps down the steps leading from the upper deck. I size them up, and I get a crawling feeling. My gut tells me to be extra careful around these three.

Big guys, like all of them, but with fight in their eyes. They want us to rebel. The leader of the triad has a long, brown beard flecked with grey and a hard gaze. There’s a pale scar on his neck like someone tried to saw it off with a blade. To his left is a lithe Aurelian who looks quick on his feet. The one to his right is a blocky one with a forehead like a hammerhead shark, protruding like a neanderthal.

I’ve never seen an ugly Aurelian, but these ones come close. The leader of the triad is about to speak when his eyes turn on me and his nostrils flare uncontrollably. He breathes in and shudders, staring at me with dark hunger.

He licks his lips, and suddenly, I feel very small indeed.

He points to a set of automatic doors under the stairway. I can see in Chris’s posture that the triad has him cowed. That’s good. If he tried to fight them, he’d get us all killed. I shake Theme’s shoulder, and the poor boy wakes up, blinking in confusion and fear when he realizes none of this was a dream. I pull him to his feet and luckily, he’s able to move without help.

We walk in silence, not wanting to face the ire of these three. The six of us trudge through the automatic doors and into a drab, grey hallway lit by flickering lights.

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