Page 91 of Ren: Warlord Brides
He wanted to be with Emmarae for the entire process—and to satisfy his curiosity about Zalis in his unexpected match—but he had a meeting with the warlord.
For hours.
This was punishment. It had to be.
Ren’s tail twitched, too anxious to remain still.
Officers surrounded the table in the meeting room. Paax sat at the head. Mylomon tucked himself away in a corner, observing at a distance. Seeran, head of Security, sat at the warlord’s right. Vox, the flight deck manager, sat to the left. Jaxar, the head engineer, sat at the far left. Ren rather felt like he was being examined by a panel of educators there to evaluate his performance.
“What credibility do you give the female’s claims about the Suhlik purchasing the female?” Paax asked.
Ren glanced at Havik. They had no shared theories, but he had spent the entire night pondering the question. He said, “The warehouse was a trap. Gemma reports her captors had her send messages to Emmarae. Those messages were easily traced.”
“They wanted you there,” Paax said.
“Yes. The nine females were surrounded by explosives. The captors wanted to frighten the females and for us to see their demise. Such cruelty is very much like the Suhlik.”
“There is evidence that more than nine beings were housed, however briefly, in the building. The Suhlik may have purchased females and left those nine as bait in the trap.”
“They play with their prey,” Ren added. His feline also played with her prey, but she was not a sentient being capable of interstellar travel. Her play was not cruel, simply instinct.
“If the Suhlik were on Tholla, they would have breached further into our territory than we suspected,” Paax said. His jaw clenched. “And the Council—”
“The Council is divided,” Ren said. “Councilor Oran told me as much. The clans are divided, and the Council is reluctant to admit that invasion is imminent.”
“Councilor Oran also accused me of splitting the clans,” Paax said.
Ren raised his hands in supplication. “Uniting on this issue is imperative.”
“Agreed.” The warlord ran a hand over the seared-off end of his missing horn.
For a long while, Ren had been unnerved at the visible sign of weakness in the warlord. A missing horn. While he did not have horns himself, he imagined it must be like having his tail chopped off. He could not fathom the loss of self, the disruption it would cause to balance, and the warlord did not hide this injury. All could see.
Paax had more strength than Kaos could ever imagine.
“Why Terran females?” Havik asked. “We have recovered several abductees, and the majority are Terran females.”
“Indulge me. I have a hypothesis.” Paax waved a hand over the table, and a projection appeared. “Once the Mahdfel make an alliance, compatibility rates are high. After a generation, say twenty years, the rate of compatibility declines. This pattern of attrition could simply be that the most compatible females are removed from the general population, they have sons, and the gene pool, as it were, is not replenished.”
Images and genomic sequences that Ren did not understand flashed through the projection. Ren knew the warlord had been the one to design the genetic match, the test that matched him with his Emmarae. He assumed Paax knew of what he spoke.
“Compatibility rates with Earth have remained steady. Usually, at this point in an alliance, matches should be falling.”
“We do have an unusual number of Terran mates,” Vox said. Ren did not know the male well, but recognized him as the officer who kept the fighters, shuttles, other vessels, and pilots in working order.
“The only other planet that does not have a declining match rate is Rolusdreus,” Paax said. Ren shifted forward in his seat, intrigued. “Rolusdreus actively manipulates the genes of its civilians.”
“Optimizes,” Havik said. “We all have some degree of genetic engineering. These adaptations are necessary for our survival.”
“Yes, but there is no such optimization on Earth. A random mutation from time to time, but not an active campaign to manipulate the genetic profile of their people. Terrans are remarkably interesting in this regard. I suspect the Suhlik find them interesting for the same reason.”
“I doubt that,” Ren said, then realized what he said. If he had ever uttered such words to Kaos, he would have the tusks ripped from his jawbone and left to the mercy of the sands. “That is, I do not believe the Suhlik’s interests are as wholesome as compatibility rates and breeding.”
Paax waved a dismissive hand. The image changed. “I think they are very interested in breeding.”
“They can’t breed with Terrans,” Ren said, simultaneously emboldened by the warlord’s tolerance and horrified at his hubris.
“We will have to ask them, one day.” Paax closed the projection. “Suggestions for a base of operations. TheJudgment, as grand as she is, cannot be in all places at once. It’s a big system.”
