2. Xandor
Chapter 2
Xandor
Zygon
T he mess hall was never designed to seat so many, especially when three of our number include us mighty Klendathians. Yet, we all squeeze in, pulling the tables and chairs together, somewhat awkwardly perched atop the feeble polymer chairs. This gathering was my Tyrxie’s idea, a farewell of sorts—now we’re less than a day’s journey from Nebia.
All crew members are present except for the Kaanus, who I hope is still piloting the ship. If he abandons his post now, when we’re so close to potential danger, I swear to the Gods I’ll strip the flesh from his bones. The sour thought mirrors my mood, exacerbated by troubling dreams which still haunt my nights.
Even lying next to Tyrxie, awash in our lust and desire for each other, brings no respite from these specters. I thought them manifestations from the Gods, cursing and driving me into the arms of Tyrxie. After our glorious embrace, they’ve only grown stronger. I suppress a wince at the phantom pain of horrendous suffering.
Visions flash through my mind. If I could hold them longer, I might piece them together to complete the whole. Pictures of destruction and something lost, never to return. I wish I could dismiss them as irrational fears, but they are too persistent, too similar. A part of me knows deep down that these are warnings from the Gods, hints at a future. But can I change it, or am I doomed to this terrible fate?
“Hey, are you ok?” Tyrxie leans in, whispering. Her scent is intoxicating, a soothing balm to my troubled mind. “It’s your turn,” she reminds me, snapping my focus back to the three cards in my hands.
Cards for a game called Zygon, which I’ve heard of but never played. Usually, I’d be too busy for such games, preferring to chat with war brothers or engage in training rather than time-wasting. However, after being crammed into such a small ship lacking basic facilities, I can now see the appeal.
“What’s this one do?” I whisper to my Tyrxie, revealing my cards in a cagey manner, enjoying her softness as I press into her.
“Giant green mammaloid takes too long. Yes?” Job interrupts, stabbing an accusing finger at me while clutching his cards to his chest like they were crafted from Elerium. “We reach Nebia, before game’s over. Yes?” he complains.
His greed motivates his impatience. He and his brother Mob sit with the most polymer utensils—our makeshift currency for the games. “Keep your antennae glued on. It’s my first time playing,” I protest with a disapproving frown.
“Then skip turn, will result in same outcome, your defeat. No?” Mob chimes in, and I get the sense the two sneaky Glaseroids are in cahoots.
Tyrxie points to my card that resembles an engine or some machine. “That’s the graviton generator card. It’s worth three points,” she whispers in my ear, sending a delightful tingle through me. Now I’ll have to ask for her advice constantly. “You should probably trade it,” she suggests.
“Okay, I’ll trust you.” I exchange my card for one on the deck. Examining my new card, I see an ominous image of blackness and nothing else. “Hmm, what’s about this one?” I ask, flashing Tyrxie the card.
She laughs, confirming my ill luck. “That’s the black hole. You’re out of the game,” Tyrxie says, and the rest of the players laugh and jeer as I sigh and fold my arms. “Sorry lover.” She gives me a sympathetic pat.
Games are stupid anyway.
Mod laughs the hardest before speaking. “If you had listened to me and skipped go, you’d still be in game. No?”
“You speak from hindsight. It could’ve just as easily been a powerful card,” I retort, glaring at Mod, who only snickers at my response, turning to his brother, who joins in like I’ve declared space is white.
“Fear not, brother. Logarn and I shall subdue the Glaseroid menace,” Noroth intones with a broad smile, while Hyanxa drapes herself over him like a brown fur coat. I feel heartened by his words until I notice his pile of spoons and forks is even fewer than my meagre collection.
“Unleash the netherworld upon them, brother,” I encourage, as I move towards the food dispenser, not intending the same accident to occur to these borack steaks.
“No fair!” Quad booms, his voice echoing through the tiny room. “You play as teams. Supposed to be solo game.” He shakes his head, holding a card in each hand.
During the conversation, my Tyrxie exchanges a card with lightning speed, taking advantage of the distraction. A faint flicker of annoyance flashes across her face at seeing her new card. My sneaky little female.
“You have double the arms, so it evens out,” Hyanxa shouts over to Quad, playing up to his limb-dominated ego.
Quad gives a quick laugh, “True, I’m best player.” He scratches his head with his free hand. My attention shifts back to the food dispenser, relieved to see no indication of flashing red lights this time. That’s a good thing, right? I peer inside the clear screen, imagining what horrors the machine might inflict upon my steaks this time.
Hyanxa scoffs, “If you were the best player, you would’ve noticed that sly Tyrxie has already taken her turn,” she says, turning a tilted gaze toward Tyrxie. “Isn’t that right?” she asks.
Tyrxie only looks away and whistles, causing me to smile.
“Pfft!” Quad spits out, forcing everyone at the tables except Logarn to groan and recoil from the shower of sputum. “Of course I notice!” he declares.
“Void sake, Quad. Stop spitting on the table,” Tyrxie complains, setting her cards down to wipe the tables with an old cloth. I notice Mod leaning over, his antennae directed at Tyrxie, attempting but failing to glance at her cards. You can never trust Glaseroids!
“Hmm, perhaps I construct arcweave mouth guard for Quad, weld onto his skull? Yes?” Job ponders, his arm limbs placed beneath his mouth hole.
“Better to use toxin to suppress overactive saliva glands? No?” Mod retorts, rounding on his brother.
“No, my method more secure. Yes?” Job insists, jabbing a pointed finger at Mod.
“Your methods are like virus bomb to kill znat. No?” Mob snaps back, and the two flail and flutter their many arm limbs at each other, making strange croaking noises.
“Do they battle?” Noroth inquires with a frown, directed at the blurring motion of the two Glaseroid brothers.
Hyanxa scoffs, tossing her red hair. “No, they do this all the time. They’ll snap out of it,” she replies, sounding bored.
“Okay, I exchange card now!” Quad shouts over the strange noises. He swaps his card with another from the deck, his expression changing to one of annoyance. “This card is no good! It has minus points!” He sulks, folding his four arms.
“Quad, don’t tell the other players what cards you have, or they’ll know how to bet against you,” Tyrxie interrupts with a grimace at the Barlyxian.
“Oh,” Quad retorts, his head drifting downward, until he snaps straight, a smile beaming on his face. “Maybe I fool you,” he declares with a knowing nod.
Noroth grunts, frowning at Quad, “Slim chance of that, little Quad,” he mutters with a dark tone.
This food dispenser is too silent, too malevolent. It’s about to release a calamity upon my steaks! Unable to contain my growing worry any longer, I open the dispenser. The delicious aroma of cooked borack meats assails my senses, as I strain to see through the haze of steam. Yes! These steaks have been cooked well, lacking char or burned bits this time.
Logarn, devoid of words or emotion, swaps one of his cards, examining it with a steady eye, giving nothing away. Then, in a bold move, he pushes all his considerable forks and spoons into the center of the tables.
“All in,” he declares.
The others erupt into gasps and jeers. Even Job and Mob stop their bickering.
“I’m out,” Tyrxie declares without hesitation, followed soon after by Noroth and Hyanxa, who place their cards face down in defeat.
“Hmm, interesting,” Job ponders, placing his head goggles on, peering at Logarn, studying for any hint, any weakness. Yet Logarn sits like an unreadable statue, hands and face showing no disturbance or fluctuations. “Giant blond mammaloid gives no indication, impressive. Yes?”
“Perhaps he suppresses through drugs?” Mod speculates, also placing some magnifying object on. They now both study Logarn with wild abandon, clambering halfway over the table. “Pupils not dilated; hypothesis incorrect. No?” Mod then claps, creating a jarring noise. Yet Logarn doesn’t flinch, like he’s frozen in time awaiting his imminent victory. “Zero reaction, very strange. No?”
“What’s strange is you blowing out my eardrums,” Noroth complains with a wince as he ushers the two Glaseroids back with a sweep of his mighty arm.
“Pfft! Blondie bluffs!” Quad declares, nodding his head with absolute certainty. “He not fool me. I go all in.” He pushes his pile of utensils into the center with a lingering smug look directed at Logarn.
Tyrxie sighs, wiping more of Quad’s spittle from the table for the umpteenth time.
“Hmm, the Barlyxian lacks cranial capacity, but perhaps possesses unique ability to discern falsehoods? Yes?” Job chimes in, musing, studying his own cards.
“Unlikely hypothesis, Quad demonstrates ignorance like new pupa. No?” Mod counters, as the simple Quad glances between the pair with openmouthed wonder.
“I go all in. Yes?” Job scoffs, glaring at his brother before pushing in his large stack of utensils. He sits back with many arms folded, tapping his finger, staring at Logarn.
Mod sighs, “My brother is foolish. No?” he suggests with a grimace before placing his cards flat on the table in defeat. “I’m out,” he declares.
I watch them with curious interest, somehow invested in the outcome, despite the game being fought over voiding polymer spoons and forks. Only the fate of my borack steaks draws me away as I plate them, ensuring each crew member has one, a final parting gift—actual food.
“So, Job, show us what you got?” Hyanxa chimes in with an eager tone, leaning over the tables.
“Feast gooey mammaloid eye orbs on this! Yes?” Job exclaims, his antennae now fluttering with wild excitement. He turns over his cards revealing—pictures I do not understand. “Plasma core, two laser generators. Twenty-one points, very high. Yes?” Job declares, as all eyes shift to Logarn who shows no inkling of emotion.
“That’s a tough score to beat!” Tyrxie exclaims, turning towards Quad, a look of concern on her beautiful face. “What have you got, Quad?”
Quad beams, on the verge of a glorious victory, chest tall and proud like a conquering hero. “Look!” he shouts, slamming down his three hands, rocking the table and revealing more cards I don’t recognize. “I win?” He glances around at the others.
Everyone groans, except for Job, who laughs, and Logarn, who is still unmoved. “Quad, you big dummy.” Tyrxie shakes her head, staring at the cards. “One arcweave, a supernova and a meteor shower. That’s minus four points.”
“Oh.” Quad scratches his bald green head. “But I called bluff?” His words elicit more groans of exasperation from the others.
Mod exchanges a knowing look with Job, who now almost vibrates with impatience. “Reveal cards, giant blond mammaloid! Yes?” Job demands with a pointed, elongated finger.
Logarn turns over his three cards, provoking gasps and laughter. “Two Elerium, one laser generator. Twenty-seven points,” he states, his brown eyes flicking to Job, who crumbles into his chair in defeat. “I win,” he finishes, gathering the large pile of polymer forks and spoons.
“Two Eleriums, what are chances? Yes?” Job grumbles, sulking as he folds his many arm limbs.
I laugh, bringing over the borack steaks, the tantalizing aroma tickling my senses. “Well played Logarn,” I say, leaving him a plate and patting him on the shoulder in congratulations. Yet it saddens my heart that he cannot feel joy in his victory.
With haste, I distribute the meals, saving the last one for my Tyrxie “Hail,” I declare with a wink at my alluring female. “This one’s for you. The best one, already cut up,” I offer as I descend onto the tiny seat that almost breaks under my weight.
“Oh, yummy!” Tyrxie says, her stunning green eyes lighting up. “These look even better than last time.”
“I could say the same about you,” I tease, wrapping my arm around her gentle frame. “Here, try a piece,” I offer, spearing a chunk on my extended claw, pleased to see Tyrxie opening her gorgeous full lips.
So eager and pleasing she is, watching her do anything is a wonder to me. I’ve never felt this content and happy with a female. It’s like she’s a part of me, completing me, forming a whole warrior that I didn’t know was incomplete. I try to recall my earlier objections, frowning as I struggle to fathom why I resisted. The reasons seem so petty and trite now in the face of my growing fierce love for her.
I pop the piece of steak into her mouth, and she groans in pleasure, savoring the favors. Joy and longing surge within me as her eyes flick to mine, almost drowning me in their sparkling emerald depths. “MMmm! Tastes way better than last time!” she declares with a smile.
“It helps when the infernal machine behaves itself,” I reply, glaring at the food dispenser, wondering what foul tricks it’ll play next time. “But dig in. There’s plenty to go round.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Tyrxie smiles, and in a dazzling and impressive display, she devours the chunks of steak. I grin, watching her enjoy her food, glad she’s at last getting adequate nutrition.
As I eat my own, I notice Job and Mod grumbling in protest, staring at their steaks as if fearing they’ll spring to life at any moment. “Mammaloid flesh? Yes?” Job questions as he prods the meat with a flimsy spoon.
Mod uncovers a purple ointment from his long coat and pours it onto his steak. “Hmm, indeed mammaloid flesh, protein too high, fat too low, lacks the crunch of exoskeleton. No?” he questions, as I frown, watching his ointment dissolve the delicious meat.
Job’s antennae twitch in disapproval as he plucks his steak to begin sucking the end, the slurping sounds making me shudder. “Just eat the voiding thing!” I yell at the pair, glaring at them.
Mod shrugs, and Job plops his steak onto his plate. “Flavor un-segmented, texture lacks proper chitin glaze, like chewing sponge. Yes?” he complains, puckering his mouth hole together.
Voiding Glaseroids! “There’s no accounting for taste,” I say, waving a dismissive hand at the pair as the brothers each uncover a canister, spilling the horrible contents onto their plates.
Squirming larva creatures writhe and slither, their plump white flesh glistening in the low light. “These are Glaseroid delicacy. Much better than mammaloid flesh. Yes?” Job suggests as he and his brother move to swallow the disgusting creatures whole.
All the ‘mammaloids’ recoil in revulsion except Logarn. Noroth even stands up, his red skin turning a touch paler. “Not this again!” he booms, standing bolt upright and almost sending Hyanxa flying, motioning to leave the room. “I’m going to be sick.”
At his words, the ship’s warning lights kick into action, casting ominous red around the room, as loud sirens fill the stunned silence. I jump up, wasting no time, knowing that this is it, the moment of truth—we’re breaching the borders into Nebia. “Everyone, arm yourselves and prepare for hostile actions,” I roar over the clamoring alarm.
“Tyrxie, stay by my side.” I turn to the female who is my beating heart, gazing into her green eyes.
Her soft, sweet face hardens, resolve forming into the stern eyes of a warrior. “I’m by your side always, Xandor,” she cements with a solemn nod that stirs my soul.
I smile, taking Tyrxie’s hand and together moving to exit the mess hall. The others follow, some heading in different directions. The shrieking sirens and whirling red lights drive us forward towards the bridge. It’s there I’ll find the answers I seek—will we be able to break through, or will the mission end in failure?
Tyrxie squeezes my hand, prompting me to peer down at her sweet face. It’s a moment of beauty amidst the growing chaos. If I could, I’d burn the image into my memory for all eternity. I’m half-carrying her with my long strides through the cramped corridor. We’re being followed by Noroth, Logarn and Hyanxa, the echo of our thundering boots almost drowning out the siren.
As we enter the bridge, the pungent stench of alcohol strikes my senses. Kaanus is seated in his captain’s chair. Thank the Gods. The navigational display shimmers in blue, showing our ship before a sea of countless dots, each one a bullet in the heart of my mission. It can mean only one thing. “Scythian Seeker Swarm,” I report.
“Is that what the voiding thing is?” Kaanus slurs, peering over his shoulder, halting with a gasp, noticing the others. “Tyrxie... Hyanxa? I—” his words trail off, as if he’s looking at spirits.
“Focus Kaanus,” I command, rushing to the viewport, confirming my worst fears. Glittering in the vast darkness of the void are the countless red lenses of the seeker drones. They writhe and undulate in fluttering waves, their coordinated movements both mesmerizing and terrifying, their source unknown to me.
I grimace, as the sea of drones shifts and reforms into the likeness of a face, just as they did when they attacked Krogoth’s battlebarge. That was a ferocious battle. Only by the grace of the Gods did we prevail, losing many war brothers in glorious combat. Now, with this scrap heap of a ship, and so few warriors, direct conflict would grant us nothing but heroic deaths.
“Is that a voiding giant face?” Kaanus exclaims, squinting out the viewport, “Void this—”
“Stay where you are!” I roar, rounding on the Captain, who recoils in dread. Good, he fears me more than the Seeker Swarm—for now. The Scythian’s employ fear as a tool to weaken their enemies, one reason they use us Klendathians. But I see through their tricks and refuse to be cowed. “They haven’t attacked, which means they only bar entry.”
“Surely we must turn back then?” Kaanus questions, looking to me with sunken eyes and a disheveled appearance—a shocking downfall from the proud captain who greeted me just weeks ago. “What the void can we do against that?” he adds, gesturing wildly.
Good question.
Tyrxie moves to stand beside me, her eyes locked on Kaanus, her hand covering her mouth with an expression of concern. “Oh, Kaanus,” she mutters.
Even Hyanxa joins us, tutting as she takes in the Captain’s broken state. Her gaze lingers on the angry, swollen wound on his leg, which looks nasty—perhaps infected. “Void sake, I warned you about that wound.” Hyanxa snarls, turning her head with gritted teeth, averting her gaze. “Serves you right, you cheating bastard.”
Her words are like a body blow to the already battered Captain, who sinks further into his chair. “Our lives hang in the balance, yet you bicker!” I yell, snapping them out of their momentary distraction. They straighten up, their focus renewed.
Satisfied I have their attention, I continue. “Hyanxa, how far are we from Nebia?” I ask, gesturing toward the shimmering blue navigational console, hoping a final desperate dash might be enough.
Before she can answer, a sudden loud garbled audio static fills the room, overwhelming the senses. The others wince, except us Klendathians. I place a steadying hand around my Tyrxie’s waist to reassure her. Gods give me the strength to keep her safe through this oncoming battle.
“The... the face demands we lower our shields and submit to a scan,” Kaanus slurs, peering down at his console.
“What shields?” I let out a sardonic laugh. “Inform them we came here in error and mean to withdraw immediately.”
Kaanus’ shaking hands dart over this console as Hyanxa chimes in. “A little over thirty minutes at top speed will take us to Nebia.” Her words bring me a small sense of hope. But is it close enough?
I let out a deep breath, resigned to gamble, trusting in the Gods and the mission. Studying the navigational console, I spot a dense nebula formation that may hide our approach. Not much, but better than nothing. “Kaanus, take us back two sectors,” I suggest, moving my hand, highlighting the thick nebula. “Then approach from these coordinates at full speed towards Nebia.”
“I hope you know what the void you’re doing.” Hyanxa frowns, examining my proposed route with a critical eye.
Me too.
This plans success balances on a claw’s edge, but Krogoth bid me to let nothing stand in my way, knowing this peace mission may save our people from extinction. I will do whatever it takes, even if it costs this ship, even my life. I will gladly pay it and meet my ancestors with a proud heart.
More garbled machine static assaults our ears. All eyes dart to Kaanus, who breathes out a sigh of relief. “They’ll let us leave with a warning. If we return, they will destroy us,” he mutters, collapsing into his seat.
“Excellent,” I blurt out, rushing to the viewport. The face constructed from machine orbs reverts to its wavy pattern, filling me with a modicum of respite. “Get us out of here, Kaanus.”
The ship’s engine’s hum with effort, turning back the way we came, darting out of sight from the dreaded Seeker Swarm. But will they trail us? What intelligence do they possess? The tension in the cramped bridge is palpable, with just the soft glow of the blue consoles illuminating the thoughtful faces of the others.
I only see Tyrxie. Her green eyes shine with resolve, but I see the uncertainty too. I lean down to kiss her forehead, savoring what might be our last moments together. “Whatever happens, whatever you see. I want you to escape and live. Take the escape pod if you have to. Okay?”
Tyrxie’s gaze searches my face as concern spreads over hers. “No, we’re a team, Xandor. You’re going to show me Earth, remember?” She smiles, almost pleading, my poor sweet Tyrxie.
“Heading to the purple nebula now,” Kaanus informs us as the ship shifts again, the engines now humming louder.
Mirroring my thumping heartache, I find myself unable to offer Tyrxie anything for her beautiful pleading expression. “Tyrxie, please.” I grasp her by her delicate shoulders. “If I should fall, promise me you’ll save yourself,” I insist, surprised by my own words, driven perhaps by the recent ominous premonitions that have haunted me.
“I promise,” Tyrxie replies, eyes moistening. She nods in agreement, moving to clutch me in a fierce embrace that warms my soul. “But I know, even if you leave me, you’ll always find me, no matter what,” she mutters with a weak laugh against my chest.
“Yes, you can’t hide from me, my sneaky Tyrxie,” I swear, breaking our embrace to smile at her. I don’t speak the rest of the words, not wishing to upset her further— That I’d watch over her from the halls of my ancestors.
A dazzling purple light streams in from the viewport, bathing the bridge in glorious hues as Tyrxie and I lock eyes, the poignant moment hanging between us. I study every contour of her beautiful face, her deep sparking green eyes, engraving her and this moment into my memory so it’ll be burned into my very soul for eternity. I pray my earlier premonitions are nothing more than worries born of a troubled and stressed mind.
Time lapses, but I almost don’t notice, captivated by the depths of Tyrxie’s beautiful soul, reflected in her eyes. Until Kaanus announces we’ve left the nebula, now at maximum speed, racing towards Nebia. My gaze shifts to the navigational console, as my heart pounds, knowing every second free of the Seeker Swarm increases our chances of survival.
The engine roars and the ship vibrates, filling the air with the only noise as all eyes are locked onto the navigational display with bated breath, awaiting the inevitable. It’s almost a relief when the display shows, in glowing blue neon, the emergence of countless blue dots pursuing our ship. Seeking our deaths.
“Time to see what this fourth-generation engine can do.”