Page 37 of Scorching the Alien Empire
Keth and Nexarn move with grim efficiency, their hands a blur over shimmering blue consoles. A distant discharging sound reverberates through the ship, followed by a faint diminishment in the engine’s hum as the shields drop.
“Ah, we’ve arrived,” Ignixis’s voice cuts through the tension, amazingly glib. The command bridge doors swish open, and he strides into the expanse as if nothing were amiss.
He’s not alone.
My Princesa follows at his side, her gait confident, almost casual. A knowing smile plays on their lips—almost smug. It irks me, their shared indifference to the situation spiraling beyond my control.
“Hey, babes,” Princesa greets, her voice light, utterly incongruous with the storm outside.
She still wears that strange attire she’s recently adopted: black robes that drink in the room’s dim purple and blue light, with faintly gleaming gold symbols dotted throughout. The neckline plunges, revealing her intricate runic blessing scorched into her skin, while the upper portion clings to her form, accentuating her beautiful curves.
“Oh dear,” Ignixis mutters, coming to an abrupt halt as his feeble eyes finally dart to the viewport. The smugness on his runic, wrinkled face melts into an expression of genuine surprise. “That is... quite a horde of Seeker drones.”
His gaze flicks to mine, and his smirk quickly resurfaces. “A procession fit for a War Chieftain, wouldn’t you agree?” He cackles, the sound thin and wheezing.
Useless old gas-cloud.
“They’re on our side, right?” Princesa interjects, her voice tinged with uncertainty. Her silver eyes remain locked on the viewport, her full lips pressed into a tight line of thought. “I mean, Ihopeso—because that isfreaking terrifying.”
She flicks a delicate hand, gesturing behind me. “And we don’t want to be eaten by a giant space face, do we, Todd?” she coos, absently stroking the plump cyloillar nestled on her shoulder.
Space face?
Confused, I turn back to the viewport—and my molten blood chills.
The countless surging mass of drones has coalesced into a colossal sneering face. It flows and writhes with eerie fluidity, mimicking life far too well. Its eyelids blink, its features subtly shift with expressions. S gray metal god of endless red eyes, staring down at us with an unsettling, patient intensity.
It watches. And waits.
The sight iswrong—a grotesque parody of life on an unfathomable scale. This is not born of strength or valor but of cold, lifeless metal and relentless systems.
These are meant to be our allies? To herald my glorious destiny?
A repugnant, icy chill spears through me at the abhorrent notion.
“My Red Dragon,” Princesa purrs, her voice soft and soothing. Her arm wraps around my waist, her warmth and softness atodds with the monstrosity looming outside. She tugs gently at my armor, tiptoeing—an unspoken request for me to bend closer.
I lower my head, and her lips brush my ear. “Keep it together,” she whispers, her tone a mix of sternness and intimacy.
Her mercurial eyes meet mine, her gaze unwavering. Through the bond that links us, I feel her disappointment flaring, mirroring the look she gives me now—a beautiful rebuke.
And once again, my bond betrays me, laying bare that which shames.
Slowly, I nod, letting her words sink in. They shame me, as they should. I shame myself. I will not allow the Scythians nor anyone else to unnerve me or disrupt my plans.
Did my father ever balk before them? Never. And the same noble blood surges through my veins. I will emulate his greatness. I am the War Chieftain, and glory is my destiny.
A mist of my Rush wafts from my crimson eyes, dissipating into the cool air as resolve and fury ignite within me once more. My Princesa watches me closely, her silver eyes as sharp as an arrohawk’s. Her thin smile curves into an alluring grin tinged with wickedness.
“That’s more like it,” she purrs, her voice silk laced with arcweave. Rising on her toes, she plants a human kiss on my cheek. Her lips are soft, delicate—deceptively so, for within the heart of my female, my goddess of death lies with unbreakable ambition.
Another sudden blast of garbled audio screeches through the comms, a shrill, deranged cacophony that tears through the tense air. My gaze snaps to the viewport, where the massive face of writhing drones moves its jagged mouth in perfect sync with the sound.
“Fucking hell!” Princesa exclaims, her voice laced with pain and irritation as she covers her ears. “That noise is almost as bad as my mother’s nagging.”
A smile curls my lips, and I squeeze her supple shoulder, seeking to ground her as she grounds me.
“War Chieftain, they demand to know our objective,” Nexarn says, his green eyes fixed on the glowing communication terminal.
