Page 7 of Possessed By the Dragon Alien
“Enough,” he growled. He was acting like an undisciplined hatchling, fixating on a prisoner who should mean nothing. He had real concerns to address—the arena unrest, the growing instability throughout Axis territory. He could not afford distractions.
But even as he opened reports on his datascreen, his gaze kept drifting to the gardens. The desire to see her again clawedat him. To speak with her. To hear her voice. To understand why she affected him so deeply when they hadn’t exchanged a single word.
Madrian raked his fingers through his hair. In all his cycles serving the Axis, he had never questioned his purpose or his loyalty. Now, because of one chance encounter, something inside him felt…misaligned. She had awakened an instinct he didn’t recognize—a need to shield and protect rather than control and punish.
Taghi’s words about the 5-11B penal colony rebellion nagged at him. Penal colonies weren’t his area of expertise—he dealt with space stations and trade routes—but the mention of a farming penal colony uprising after the arrival of a unique prisoner from that colony, pushed him to investigate. He wasn’t fond of coincidences. He entered his security codes and pulled up the reports.
The data made his scales prickle. Penal Colony 5-11B, located in the distant Purrik system, was experiencing “destabilization.” It was populated with the last surviving Terians, who were the descendants of a long-lost war and imprisoned. There were four settlements within the colony, numbered 112-1 to 112-4. That was likely 93-A’s place of origin. Things were unravelling in that sector. The overseer there had gone dark. Stopped sending reports. Ignored direct orders.
He sat back, stunned. An Axis overseer questioning the system? Unheard of. He dug deeper into personnel files, searching for the overseer’s identity. When he found it, his blood ran cold.
The overseer’s name was Ellion and he was Zaruxian. An image of the male bore one strong similarity to the one he saw in the mirror. This one had purple scales rather than his light blue ones, but they both had gray-silver eyes. Perhaps all Zaruxians shared this trait.
The file indicated that Ellion had endured not one, buttwoneural adjustments during the six hundred somemig-cycles he’d been with the Axis.
That made Madrian frown and lean back, rubbing his jaw. Neural adjustments were a palatable way of saying “memory erasure.” It wasn’t a frequent procedure, as far as he knew, and never,evervoluntary. The recovery time was lengthy. There was a high likelihood of permanent damage, and, well, the Axis typically just imprisoned or executed individuals who were troublesome. It meant this Zaruxian had an implant in his skull. That he’d endured this twice was as odd as it was horrific. Someone high up, possibly one of the Twelve, had ordered this procedure, but why?
Madrian stared at the data before him, trying to process what he was seeing. He knew he wasn’t the only Zaruxian in a position of power within the Axis, but he’d never encountered another, and never heard of one causing issues.
Yet here was a Zaruxian overseer who had apparently broken ranks and sided with prisoners against the empire. The implications made his head spin. If one of his kind could turn…
Madrian pressed the comm panel. “Rien,” he snapped.
Her monochrome avatar appeared instantly. “Chancellor?”
“The situation at Penal Colony 5-11B. I want everything on it that I can’t read in the official records. Anything that might hint at what triggered this ‘destabilization.’” He ran his fingers along the edge of his desk. “And any additional details on the overseer that you can uncover.”
“The Zaruxian?” Rien’s voice held an uncharacteristic note of surprise.
“Apparently.” His jaw tightened. “And while you’re at it, dig deeper into 93-A. I want to know why she was pulled from her penal colony. There has to be more than what we have. Push onthis from every angle, Rien. I don’t care how many favors you have to call in.”
She studied him through the projection. “This is high priority?”
“Highest.” His wings shifted restlessly.
She paused. “Chancellor, why the urgency?”
“I think there’s a connection we’re not seeing. Find it.”
Rien nodded once, crisp and certain. “I’ll begin immediately.”
The transmission ended, leaving Madrian alone with his unease. Something was stirring in the empire—something that made his blood run cold and hot at the same time. He only hoped Rien could uncover the truth before it was too late.
He slammed the screen off. His reflection stared back at him—blue-scaled, silver-eyed, wings trembling with tension. The same features as the rebel overseer. The same blood. The same potential for betrayal.
Is that what the Terian stirred in him? Some buried instinct to defy? To protect instead of control?
He couldn’t allow it. He was High Chancellor Madrian. His loyalty to the Axis was absolute.
Wasn’t it?
FIVE
Nena lay on her narrow bunk and stared at the frosted glass ceiling. Her fingers traced patterns in the air above her, mapping constellations she couldn’t see. Back at Settlement 112-1, she’d spent many nights studying the stars through gaps in clouds, finding comfort in their steady light. Here, there was nothing to see but a ceiling and four white, windowless walls.
“I miss you,” she whispered to absent stars. Her voice barely carried in the small cell. “What am I supposed to do now?” No answer came, of course. Just the soft burr of air circulators and the distant clank of the night patrol.
She rolled onto her side, pulling her knees up. That male member of the Twelve had seen her—dirty, hidden in the ferns like a frightened animal. His silver eyes had pinned her there, and instead of calling the guards or having her arrested, he’d simply…lookedat her. Then turned away as if she was beneath his notice.
