Page 87 of Sawoots Story

We undress and get into bed, pulling the covers around us. Garrick kisses the back of my head as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his broad body.

I sigh in happiness. “You’re the best big spoon,” I say to him.

“What’s that?”

I just laugh, pressing against him, letting my worries melt in his grasp. The universe is a big, scary place, but it’s going to do just fine out there without me. I close my eyes, letting my exhaustion take me.

My mind races. The Aurelian Empire just split in two. A Toad mothership just descended on the stronghold of the civilization. Fanatics so devoted to the cause they would dare Orb-Shift, facing death, are lurking somewhere in the universe.

“Calm your mind, my sweet,” whispers Garrick, feeling my tension. He lets his hands slowly graze down my body, massaging the tension out of me, and I do my best to relax.

But all I can think is….

What happens next?

5

Sawoot

Isit with my triad in the observatory, wishing we lived in boring times. We’re all sitting and looking out at space, waiting for the holo-vid feed to start.

Theme is on the next couch over, his arm wrapped around his new girlfriend, Larixa. Well, when I say wrapped around, I mean perched above her shoulders on the back of the couch, not quite touching her.

I never thought he’d be able to talk to a girl without blushing and stumbling over his words, but she seems to find his awkwardness endearing. Larixa is a brilliant coder we recruited to help set up the station, and she had her eyes on him from the first time they met. I can remember her staring at him and Theme lowering his head in shyness, unable to meet her gaze during the first interview. She’s in all black, drab, functional clothes that remind me of my old life.

I press back against Garrick, shifting on the couch as I lie like Cleopatra. The soft material of my dress caresses my body. If you told me a year ago I’d be in dresses, surrounded by a triad of Aurelians who crave me more than life itself, I’d have spat out my drink and broken your nose. I used to eat gruel from a replicator. Now my triad spends what used to be a month’s pay on the finest silks to replace the dresses they rip to shreds in the Mating Rage, and they insist on only clothing me in the best.

It’s been three days since the Toad mothership hit Colossus, Orb-Shifting in with seemingly no plan at all.

It didn’t fire a single shot.

It turns out there were Aurelians on the ship. Aurelians who had nothing to lose, and made a last-ditch attempt to Orb-Shift into friendly territory.

How friendly that territory is, is up for debate. The rumors are flying. One thing we know is the Aurelians are Bonded to a Fated Mate. Were they working with the Toads or against them? Did a business deal go wrong?

Three days of waiting, wondering if the Separatists would appear somewhere. Three days of increasing patrols and sending out scout drones into the depths of Wild Space near our station. Three grueling days of limbo, waiting for the trial.

Today, judgment will be passed.

Business boomed over the last three days. Our repair shop is past capacity, booked up with a wait list as ship captains splurge for long-overdue maintenance that suddenly seems pressing when there’s a massive force of Separatist Aurelians lurking in the shadows.

Three Aurelians will face judgment in the Arena of the Gods, the ancient coliseum of Colossus. I hope that Queen Jasmine and Emperor Raegan will have mercy on them. The Bond is too precious to waste.

The sands of the arena has drunk the blood of many triads, as the prideful civilization fights duels to the death between triads who cannot resolve their differences. Those sands always thirst for more.

“They were working with the Toads. They’ll get the axe, Bonded or not,” predicts Tar’ank. He’s sitting to my left. My head is nuzzled in his lap as I lie across the three huge men. Markrin is slowly massaging my feet.

It’s paradise.

Paradise has the bad habit of ending.

“A third. A third of Aurelians of Colossus left. Similar numbers on all Aurelian planets, Orb-Shifting out and disappearing into thin air. No one knows where they went. Gods,” trails off Markrin, and I wince as he squeezes my foot too hard. “Sorry, Sawoot,” he whispers, when he feels the twinge of pain through the Bond.

Theme’s looking over at us, shifting in his seat. He always gets nervous around my triad. Larixa squeezes his thigh. “Don’t worry, Theme, I’d take you over those over-muscled lunks any day,” she whispers. She doesn’t realize the four of us can hear her with our Bond-Enhanced senses. Markrin’s aura shows his amusement, and I’m chuckling inside as Theme beams at her compliment.

The holo-vid blinks. “It’s time,” states Garrick, as it projects into the viewing area the couches are ringed around. We get a dizzying view of the coliseum as the news drone flies upwards, taking in the majesty of Aurelian architecture as hordes of triads stream towards it from every way in the ancient city of the alien species.

The Arena of the Gods stood when Queen Jasmine’s triad ascended to power, besting the brutal Scorp-Blooded General Asmod in combat. Queen Jasmine came a long way from being sold to the alien gladiators, rising to rule over the all-male species with her powerful triad.

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