by Luna Hunter
I’m fortunate enough to live up here on the Vonnegut now, but my brother Michael still lives on the outskirts of New Atlanta, working in a plant to support his family. I raised him, and my desire to provide a better life for him is what gave me the drive to get where I am today.
Of course, I’ve had to make quite a few sacrifices to get where I am. I’ve missed more birthdays than I’m willing to count, and worst of all, the birth of my niece, Claire. She’s four years old now, but I haven’t been back to Earth since she was a baby. I tell myself I’m helping them with my research… but at times, that feels hollow.
The Zoran might be the answer. They’re superior to us in every way — physically and technologically — but they’re not known for their helpfulness. I have no idea why they’re even coming here or what they want from us. We are just a blip on the intergalactic radar, after all, but I fear the worst.
But before I can cure all of Earth’s problems, I still need to settle on a dress.
“What about this one?” I hold out something a little conservative: a drab, gray dress that would attract zero attention. Kelly instantly wrinkles her nose at me.
“What are you, eighty?” Kelly says. “The invitation clearly says black-tie, honey. The black dress it is!”
I sigh deeply. “Do I have to? I don’t think I’ve ever worn heels.”
“Then start practicing,” Kelly says. “I don’t see why you’re complaining. You get to witness history! I’d love to meet a Zoran General. I’ve heard they’re absolutely dreamy…”
“I’ve heard they drink the blood of their enemies,” I throw back at her, “so excuse me for not being too happy about it!”
“Ooh, primal,” Kelly laughs. “Me likey.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You know it. Now get in that dress!”
I yield to her demands and shimmy my way into the black garment. I smooth it with my hands as I look at myself in the mirror, and I have to admit it looks good on me. And that is not something I admit lightly. The midnight black fabric accentuates my chestnut brown eyes and autumn leaf colored hair, and it hugs my curves in all the right places. In fact I don’t think a dress has ever fit me better.
“See,” Kelly says as she stands next to me, completing my look with a golden necklace. “You look stunning. Ready to snatch yourself a Senator… or perhaps a Zoran general?” She teases.
I shiver at the thought. From a scientific point of view, we can learn so much from the Zoran, but that is not what Kelly is hinting at.
She wants me to acquaint myself with their physiology.
Intimately.
I laugh it off, but thoughts fill my head. She’s planted a seed of curiosity in my mind with all this talk, and now it’s going to be tough to shake the thought.
2. Vinz
I effortlessly glide my warship, class-A cruiser The Pathfinder, through human space and start up the docking procedure. My ship, one of the smallest and most agile in our fleet, is still several times the size of their paltry space station, the pinnacle of human development.
This is what we are here to do: Waste our time with this lesser species.
I command all troops in the Western Quadrant, and I could delegate this task to any of the hundreds of elite forces under my command, but I enjoy being at the helm, right in the thick of the action.
Unfortunately, there will be no action on this dreadful diplomatic mission. I run my hand over my smooth scalp, mentally preparing myself for the bullshit politics to come.
“Take the helm, Koryn,” I tell the soldier at my side. “Prepare for immediate evacuation if I give you the signal. I don’t know enough about these humans to trust them yet.”
“Yes sir,” he answers, taking my place behind the multitude of screens.
The large black doors of the elevator whiz open as I approach, automatically reacting to my DNA. Waiting for me inside is the man I loathe the most in the entire known universe: Senator Dimtri.
“General,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “Not opting for the proper garment, I see?”
His yellow garment clashes with his lizard-like light-green skin, painting an especially unpalatable picture. I refuse to endorse such trivialities as ceremonial garb, opting for my all-black military uniform, the obsidian armor a tight fit, providing me with maximum flexibility.
It’s all the High Command seems to care about nowadays. They’re preoccupied with ceremonial garbs and having gluttonous feasts, while our sworn enemies raid our borders unpunished.
This mission only proves my point. My fleet should be in the Eastern Quadrant, supporting General Tyr in his fight against the insectoid, infernal Ygg. We went through training together, and there’s no place I’d rather be than at his side, riding into battle together. Instead, I am forced to escort Senator Dimtri because the High Command has developed a taste for one of their sickly sweet treats called chocolate. It’s a hot commodity on the intergalactic black market, and now the High Command wants it straight from the source.
It’s idiotic.
In the last few cycles, the High Command has grown feeble and weak. They have plucked the fruits of the labor of countless Zoran warriors, and have forsaken our origins.
“Remind me again why we’re here,” I growl as the elevator glides down. “There’s been another Ygg attack on Haven-5. We should be in the East.”
“Watch your tone, Vinz,” Dimtri says. “Remember your station. The Emperor wants to open relations with the humans, and that is what we shall do.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, tasting blood. Control is the most important thing in the life of a warrior: Physical as well as emotional. Day by day it becomes harder and harder to control my urges. I can only sit by and watch the High Command run our species into the ground for so long… but this was not the time to strike.
Soon.
“My my, what’s gotten you so worked up, Vinz? Afraid of a few humans now, are we? Or has it been too long without a mate?” Dimtri goaded me.
He senses my rage — us Zoran have very perceptible senses, and the slightest change in mood gives off a particular scent, which makes complete emotional control all the more important in our culture. Even a weakling such as Dimtri has a rudimentary control of these powers, though of course his grasp pales in comparison to a tried and true warrior. I silently admonish myself for letting this pompous aristocrat successfully rile me up.
“Feel free to take one of the humans, if that’s what you prefer,” Dimtri hisses.
I ignore his blithe statement. He wants nothing more than for me to strike him down in anger so he can get me court-martialed and relieved of duty. My animosity for the High Command is well-known, but my prowess is so renowned that they couldn’t get rid of me without inciting a rebellion.
A human for a mate? I can’t even imagine it. Interspecies mingling is not exactly unheard of. After the inexplicable decline in birth rates, which has of course remained a closely guarded secret, Zoran women have remained exceedingly rare. Unfortunately, no interspecies coupling has ever produced offspring. I don’t see humans — so soft and fragile — being the missing link.
“Welcome, General... Uhm..”
A small, frail human male quivers in front of me, his head barely reaching up to my chest. The human is half the width of me and his gut is round where mine is taut. His pupils are dilated, fear escaping from every pore in his feeble body. He offers me a limp hand that I crush. I’ve done my homework and recognize the gesture as a human greeting.
“Vinz,” I answer briskly in Universal. “General Vinz.”
The weak human introduces himself as Tobias, their leader. I don’t understand why the humans have made such a small and pudgy man their leader.
The reception takes place on an observation deck on the top floor of their space station. The spherical glass provides us with a perfect view of Earth, their home planet a blue marble floating in the vast emptiness of space.
I imagine humans consid
er this a breathtaking sight. I see a glaring security flaw.
I am disappointed to see that the humans share the High Command’s preference for fashion over function. The men are all dressed in strange, dark-colored suits that provide no visible protection. I could easily rip out their throats if I wanted to.
A human female catches my attention. I smell her before I see her — an alluring, warm, pleasant scent that reminds me of the Kyhiss flower that grew in my father’s garden, where I spent my childhood looking up at the stars. On those warm summer nights I’d imagine myself riding into battle headfirst, dropping into the atmosphere from thousands of miles up, cutting through steel and flesh to singlehandedly destroy a Ygg enforcer.
I’ve since then made that dream a reality. What is my reward for my service to the glorious Zoran Empire? I get to be Dimtri’s bodyguard.
I turn on my heels — and the mysterious woman bumps right into my chest, spilling her drink all over me.
“Sorry,” she fusses, her pale cheeks turning pink as she tries to wipe the fluid off my broad chest. My obsidian nano-suit is made to withstand a Ygg’s corrosive acid, so a small beverage is of no concern to me.
To my own surprise I find myself captivated by her beauty. A midnight-black garment hugs her curvy, soft body in all the right places. A thick bush of brown curls frame her gorgeous face. I wonder what her full lips taste like. My cock throbs at the invasive thought of sweeping her off her feet and carrying her back to my quarters.
Get it together, Vinz! A human?!
I shake the strange thought. It must be the bright lights and plethora of peculiar scents overloading my senses. Yes, that’s it.
She wanders off, and my eyes are unable to look away from her captivating form. “Who is she?” I demand to know from Tobias.
“H-her?” the frail man stammers. “Th-that’s Jillian, one of our ch-chief scientists.”
Jillian.
Her name rolls of my tongue with ease.
I silently watch Dimtri exchange pleasantries with the human dignitaries. This is where he is at home: slithering up to these naïve humans, with one hand offering the world, and the other ripping them off right before their eyes.
I try to focus my mind on the situation at hand, but inexplicably, my mind keeps drifting back to that shapely scientist.
No matter. In a few hours Dimtri will have concluded his meeting, and we’ll be back on our way to Exon Prime, and I’ll never set foot in human space again.
Click here to continue reading Alien General’s Baby!
Preview of Nero
A chance encounter with a dominant alien warlord turns Victoria's world upside down.
It was supposed to be a routine flight. Circle Earth and be back home in time for dinner. Easy peasy for astronaut Victoria Snow.
Until Nero Octavius shows up. The powerful alien warrior boards her ship, and from that point on nothing will ever be the same again. With his smoldering eyes and rippling muscles, the headstrong alien is hard to resist, try as Victoria might.
Nero is a wanted man, harboring a dark secret. Everyone he gets close to is in permanent danger. He won't allow anyone into his life... but he makes an exception for the curvy human female. She awakens something inside him, a power greater than he knew existed...
Will it be the end for them both?
1. Nero
“Father! Father! They’re here!”
I rush towards my father’s study as fast as I can, my heart beating in my throat, my voice hoarse from screaming his name.
All day long we’ve heard rumors of Emperor Decimus’s death. Five centuries of peace, five centuries of rule ended with a single stroke.
They say Magnus Bruttius did it. The prodigal son of House Bruttius, their strongest warrior, their fiercest leader… betraying his emperor, betraying all of us Elbans, driven mad by his lust for power.
I didn’t believe it.
I didn’t want to.
But when the soldiers of House Bruttius arrived on our doorstep, when they ran their blades through our defenseless servants, cut them down like dogs… I couldn’t deny the truth any longer.
Life as I had known it was over.
I kick open the heavy wooden doors to my father’s study to find him in his usual spot: bent-over his desk, studying a paper scroll, glasses perched on his nose.
Gaius Octavius is unlike any other Elban I have ever met. He prefers science over warfare, knowledge over the sword, and this makes him the odd man out in Elban culture.
Even now, with our entire society thrust into chaos, my father is more concerned with some old scroll than saving his own skin.
“We have to go!”
“No time,” he mutters, “No time! She’s not ready, not yet!”
I grab his robe and yank him towards me. “Snap out of it!” I scream. My hand leaves a bloody mark on his olive-green robe.
I don’t know if that blood is my own, or some Bruttius dog I just put down.
My father’s eyes find mine, and finally I see the sparkle of recognition I was looking for.
“Ah, Nero, my son, there you are. I was looking for you.”
“What are you talking about? You were looking at the old scrolls again.”
“Yes, yes, so close, so close to unlocking the true potential… will have to try now, risky, but no choice, no, no choice.”
Father’s rambling worries me. He’s always been aloof, but even this is strange for him. He’s gathered so much knowledge in that graying head of his that I worry it has driven him mad.
There’s no time left to worry, though. House Bruttius has declared war on us, its soldiers are at our gates, and blood has already been spilled. House Octavius is but a minor house compared to the greatest of the Elban houses. We have no realistic hope of defeating them in combat.
There is no other option left than to run — but an Elban doesn’t run.
An Elban comes home with his shield, or on it.
“You have to go,” I growl again. “You don’t have to die this day!”
“Look at you,” Gaius Octavius says, smiling. “You have grown up to be a strong lad. I remember when you were but a little baby boy, smaller than that sword you’re carrying! I am proud of you son.”
There is a finality in his voice that makes a shiver run down my spine. This is not the last conversation I intend to have with my father, even though the situation does look grim.
Boom!
The room is rocked by an explosion. Plaster falls from the ceiling, and the sound of battle draws closer.
“Please, father,” I plead. “Come with me.”
“We must go… to the observatory!”
“This is not the time to stargaze,” I grit through my teeth. “The Emperor has died. The Bruttius are coming for us. Aren’t you listening?! Can’t you see what’s happening?!”
“I’ve always seen,” my father says, uncharacteristically harsh. “I have always known! And prepared, yes! There is a secret escape in the observatory. Take me there. Come on, lad. I haven’t got all day.”
Relieved, I grab my father’s hand and lead him down the hall, going as fast as his old bones can take.
“Die, Bruttius scum!”
At the bottom of the stairs a tall man swings a two-handed sword, cleaving it right through a Bruttius warrior. The man is clad in red body-armor, the symbol of a golden owl barely visible because of all the blood dripping down his imposing frame.
“Romulus Valerius,” I say. “Am I glad to see you.”
Bruttius soldiers, dressed in their characteristic all-black, lay crumbled on the marble floor. I remember playing in this hall when I was a kid, sliding on the slippery tiles. This place was always impeccably clean.
Now the marble floor is covered in an inch of blood.
“There you are,” Romulus says, his voice booming. “I was afraid you’d miss all the fun.”
If there’s one man in this world I trust, it’s Romulus. There’s no Elban warrior taller than hi
m, no one stronger. He’s arrogant, stubborn, even zealous… but he’s also one of the few people I consider a true friend.
“We have to reach the observatory,” I say. “Can we?”
If the enemy have gotten into our very halls, that will be tougher than I imagined.
“Of course we can,” Romulus answers. “Lets carve a path there.”
I nod and draw my own sword - Fire’s Bane. The pommel is shaped like a stag’s head, the symbol of House Octavius. Given to my by my father, this sword is what stands between us and death.
“Stay close, father.”
Flanked by a small contingent of our most loyal fighters we charge out the gates. The observatory is located only a few hundred yards to the left of the Octavius mansion, but in these conditions, it might as well be a thousand miles away.
The sky is filled with smoke, fire and death. Flames bellow up from Massa, our great city being consumed by fire, thick black suffocating smoke blackening out the stars.
Needle-nosed spaceships bearing the mark of House Bruttius punch out of the smoke, dropping more troops on our sacred grounds with every passing second.
My heart is beating like a war-drum. My palms are sweaty, and my sword nearly slips from my grasp when a ship passes overhead, the force of its engines nearly blowing us off our feet.
In the total chaos that surrounds us we manage to carve a path, striking down soldiers as we go. The massive battle is taking place back at the mansion, and few pay attention to us.
The observatory is only a rock’s throw away now. We are close.
So, so close.
“Watch out!”
A small ship rockets by overhead, does a U-turn and touches down on the grass right in front of us. The glass door whizzes open, and my breath falters.
