by Elin Wyn
Vrehx’s Quest
A Conquered World Story
Elin Wyn
Contents
1. Vrehx
2. Vrehx
3. Jeneva
4. Jeneva
5. Vrehx
6. Vrehx
7. Vrehx
8. Jeneva
9. Vrehx
10. Vrehx
11. Jeneva
12. Vrehx
13. Vrehx
14. Jeneva
15. Vrehx
Letter from Elin
Don’t Miss the Star Breed!
One
Vrehx
I’d grown accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night. A full night’s sleep stopped being a guarantee the moment I started training for the Skotan Military back on my homeworld.
Late night drills turned into late night emergencies and my sleeping patterns adjusted.
It only got more intense when we crash landed onto the human colony planet of Ankau.
Dealing with the Xathi meant that I never got more than three hours of sleep at a time.
There was always an alarm going off, a radio call coming in, or someone in need of rescue.
Despite the constant threat of death, I believed that battling the Xathi was the happiest I’d ever be. I felt so fulfilled.
I was doing what I was born to do.
I was wrong.
I was born to find Jeneva.
Saving her planet, my planet now, was just a bonus.
Some humans believed in soulmates. If someone had approached me before the crash and explained the concept, I would’ve questioned their intelligence. After meeting Jeneva, I fully believed in soulmates.
I wasn’t going to pretend that it was love at first sight when I met Jeneva.
She was standoffish and cold.
I was narrow-minded and angry.
Yet, from the instant we met, there was an unspoken bond. At first, it was a silent agreement to not make the other’s life more difficult than necessary.
Sort of. We still differ a little on some of those definitions.
It quickly evolved to the unique bond that forms when one’s safety depends on another.
It hit me like a regulation hover fighter when I realized my feelings for her had nothing to do with my duty as a soldier.
I felt that impact of pure love and adoration every time I looked at her.
So, when Jeneva shot up from our bed, groaning in agony, I was awake in an instant, ready to battle whatever caused her pain.
“I’m fine, Vrehx. Go back to sleep,” Jeneva said through gritted teeth.
Except, I couldn’t. What was causing her pain was something, rather someone, I loved every bit as much as I loved Jeneva.
Five months ago, we made a life-changing discovery. Jeneva was pregnant. The notion of having children crossed our minds on multiple occasions both before and after we bound ourselves to one another. Since she was human and I was definitely not, we assumed that children weren’t going to be part of our future.
Neither of us was bothered by that, at first. Jeneva never saw herself as a mother. I knew all too well how dangerous the world was and felt hesitant to bring a child into such chaos. However, the more we thought about children being an impossibility for us, the more we both wanted one. We even considered adoption. So many displaced children needed homes after losing their families in the Xathi invasion.
Then we realized we had a baby of our own to plan for. Our lives turned upside down in the best possible way.
But now, we were realizing the process of carrying our son to term was going to be more complicated than we originally hoped.
“Impossible. And you’re not fine.”
“Pain during pregnancy is normal. My body is literally reshaping itself to accommodate the baby.”
“Nothing about this pregnancy is going to be normal. You need to speak to Evie in the morning.”
So far, Jeneva and I had been getting by on tips from human women on their pregnancies. There wasn’t anyone on the planet who could advise us on how to carry a human-alien hybrid baby.
Jeneva’s independence was one of the qualities I loved most about her, but she was taking it to extremes now. It took me weeks to talk her out of working once the baby started sucking up all her energy.
“Fine, I will.”
“You must really be hurting if you’re agreeing without argument.”
Despite the pain, Jeneva laughed and gave me a playful smack on the shoulder.
I sat with her for another hour until the pain subsided. Within moments, Jeneva was asleep again as if nothing had happened. I, on the other hand, was rattled by the experience. These bursts of pain had become more and more frequent. I never slept easily anymore.
I was still awake when the sun came up. I climbed out of bed, carefully extracting myself from Jeneva so I wouldn’t wake her up. I grabbed my boots from the front room and silently slipped out the door.
Jeneva’s sister, Amira, and I weren’t the best of friends, and never would be.
At best, we tolerated each other for Jeneva’s sake. Our strained relationship no longer mattered as I crossed the street to the apartment complex. Amira chose that building because of its proximity to my and Jeneva’s home, though Amira was rarely in Nyheim.
She’d spent the last few months bouncing from one ancient site to another looking for useful tech. My fellow soldier, Daxion, often accompanied her.
It took me a while to find her door. I’d never been to her apartment before. She and Daxion always came to us.
When I knocked, I realized just how early it was. Amira might not be awake. My theory was soon proven when a disheveled Amira opened the front door. Her hair was a tangled mess and she wore a shirt that must’ve belonged to Daxion.
“What the hell?” She squinted at me. “Vrehx?” Her eyes went wide as she imagined all the reasons that would bring me to her doorstep.
“Is Jeneva okay? Did something happen to the baby?”
“I’m not sure,” I confessed. “Jeneva insists she’s fine.”
“You don’t actually believe her, do you?” Amira placed her hands on her hips.
“I’m not sure what to think. This pregnancy is new territory for all of us. She’s experiencing pains.”
“Make her go to the doctor.”
“Of course I’m making her go to the doctor,” I snapped.
Reeling in my temper, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Amira infuriated me at times, but I needed her help.
“I need a favor.”
“Name it.” She spoke without hesitation. Amira’s unfailing loyalty was one of her few redeeming qualities as far as I’m concerned.
“I want you to move in with us.”
Amira snorted. “We’d kill each other in a day.”
“I’ll have to trust my self-discipline,” I muttered, and Amira snorted. But I might think about it. “I’d feel better having someone around while I work. Jeneva would love having you and you could force her to go to a hospital if something happens while I’m not there.”
“That’s a good point.” Amira tapped her chin. “Of course, I’ll move in if you think that’s what’s best for her.”
“Thank you.”
“But let’s get one thing straight. Right now.” Heat burned in her eyes. “If you think that this means you don’t have to be there for her or that you expect me to be a parent to that child so you can keep being a soldier, you need to find someone else.”
The accusation hit like a slap in the face.
“Do you really believe I’d do that to Jeneva?” I clenched my jaw.
“People do fucked-up stuff when life gets stressful,” Amira shrugged.
“I’m not people. I’m her husband and
mate. That baby is my son. I resent the implication.”
“Okay, okay! Point taken,” Amira raised her hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want my sister to go through any more crap. She’s been through enough.”
“That’s the only reason why I trust you enough to look after her while I’m away.”
“I think there was a compliment in there somewhere,” Amira smiled wryly.
“Don’t get used to it,” I chuckled. “When can you move?”
“I can have a bag packed in an hour. I was supposed to go to a dig next week, but I’ll consult remotely.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Jeneva might not,” Amira warned.
“Maybe not at first, but she will. She’s still trying to make up for lost time when it comes to you.”
“She doesn’t have to do that anymore,” Amira sighed sadly. “I’m the one who needs to make things up to her now.”
“This is a perfect opportunity for that.”
Two
Vrehx
“What could that possibly be for?” Jeneva asked as I dragged a miniature weapon rack through our front room on the way to the nursery.
She and Amira sat side by side on the couch, watching something on the entertainment console. Jeneva had a bowl of popped corn balanced perfectly on her round belly. She and Amira took turns taking huge handfuls, happily munching.
“The baby’s room.” Wasn’t that obvious?
“Is it some kind of storage thing?” Amira asked.
“Of sorts.”
I brought the rack into the nursery. Amira and Jeneva soon appeared in the doorway, watching me with curious expressions. I reached for a large portfolio-style bag I’d brought in a few hours prior and unzipped it.
“Vrehx, you can’t be serious,” Jeneva exclaimed, cackling.
“What?” Clearly, I’d missed something.
“Babies don’t need weapons.”
I looked down at the neatly arranged rows of miniature training staffs, clubs, and spears in confusion.
“There aren’t any blasters here,” I reasoned. “Nothing dangerous.”
“That club has spikes on it,” Amira pointed out.
“They’re not metal.” I bent one to prove my point.
“Vrehx, human babies can’t even hold their heads up for a little while after birth,” Jeneva explained.
“That seems like an evolutionary disadvantage,” I frowned. “Skotan infant muscles develop quickly. They’re running within weeks.”
“That’s a terrifying thought,” Amira muttered. “I hadn’t thought we’d need a leash yet.”
“How do we know how Skotan this baby is going to be?” Jeneva’s eyes went wide and she put both hands on her baby bump.
“I have no idea,” I frowned. “The ultrasounds don’t tell us much at this point.” There were more tests Evie and her colleagues could perform. But they would be invasive, possibly hurt the baby or Jeneva. We’d decided to keep things simple for now.
“It looks like a large, human-esque bean,” Amira confirmed.
“Thank you for that beautiful parallel.” Jeneva sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Beans are great!” Amira protested. “Beans make coffee. You love coffee.”
“I do love coffee,” Jeneva nodded thoughtfully. “Too bad I can’t have any.”
“Has that been confirmed, though?” Amira wondered. “What if caffeine’s good for Skotan babies?”
“Caffeine is definitely not good for Skotan babies,” I laughed. “Inside the womb, that is.”
“It’s good for them outside the womb?” Jeneva asked, wide-eyed.
“It can be beneficial,” I shrugged.
“That sounds like a dad-answer,” Amira muttered to Jeneva, who laughed into her palm.
“What does that mean?”
They both looked at me for a moment before bursting into another fit of giggles. I patiently waited for their laughter to subside.
“Most dads don’t consider every horrible thing that could happen the way moms do,” Amira explained.
“Example?”
“Jeneva, do you remember that time we wanted to go searching for Mudrig eggs when we were kids?” Amira asked.
“Yes!” Jeneva dissolved into another round of laughter.
“Why is that funny?” I asked.
“If we’d asked our mother, she would’ve checked to make sure we knew how to get to the Mudrig nests, how long we were going to be gone, and if we knew how to avoid the other common dangers of the forest,” Jeneva explained.
“Dad, on the other hand,” Amira continued, “only considered whether or not Mudrig eggs were dangerous objects. The eggs aren’t dangerous, so he agreed.”
“We had no idea where to find the Mudrig breeding grounds, we had no concept of time, and we never paid attention at any point, let alone in the forest,” Jeneva chuckled. “We stumbled home hours after dark, scared out of our wits because we ran into a creature.”
“Mom didn’t speak to dad for three days,” Amira finished.
“That was actually a formative experience for me,” Jeneva said thoughtfully. “I learned that I could make it through the forest after dark alive.”
“I learned to ask dad if I planned on doing anything questionable,” Amira added.
“Skotan children would never get away with any of that,” I jumped in. “I’m a soldier. A strike team leader. I’m capable of thinking things through before giving an answer.”
“You say that now,” Jeneva wagged her eyebrows. “But just wait until the dad instincts kick in.”
“You’re lucky you’re not having a girl. Can you imagine?” Amira giggled.
“Every boy in the city would be too afraid to ask her on a date.”
“What game are you two playing?” I looked back and forth between the two of them from my position on the floor.
“We’re just having fun imagining you being the shotgun dad,” Amira shrugged.
“I would never use such an archaic weapon,” I snorted. “They’re primitive and leave behind a huge mess.”
“Definitely glad our first one is a son,” Jeneva nodded.
“First one?” Amira repeated. “You’re planning on more?”
“I think so,” Jeneva smiled warmly. “Our original idea was adoption. We might still do that once this one,” she rubbed her baby bump, “is a few years old.”
“At this rate, Dax and I won’t need to have kids. We’ll just take care of yours.”
“You say that now, but I bet you fifty credits that you’ll want a baby of your own the second you see ours.”
“Deal.” The sisters shook hands.
I went back to the weapons rack and started organizing the child-sized weapons.
“Absolutely not,” Jeneva said sternly. When I realized she was talking to me, I got to my feet.
“Skotan babies have the same aggression level as Skotan adults,” I warned her. “He’s going to need something to hone his anger with.”
“No weapons until we know exactly how Skotan this baby is,” Jeneva replied firmly.
“I’ll keep them in the storage closet,” I compromised. “But I’m insisting on the armored crib.”
“The what now?” Amira stuttered.
I retrieved a few pieces of the crib from the storage closet and laid them out on the nursery floor.
“Are those pieces of a crib or the walls for a really tiny high-security prison cell?” Amira narrowed her eyes.
“What the hell is that thing?” Jeneva shot me a look, her hands wrapped around her belly. “You’re not putting my baby in that.”
“It’s a crib.”
“I’m now officially more afraid of Skotan babies than I am of regular Skotans,” Amira muttered.
“No way is our baby sleeping in that.”
“He’s going to have to,” I insisted. “Skotan babies shed scales like crazy.”
“What?” Amira sputtered.
“Skin stretche
s to accommodate growth. Scales don’t. As the baby grows, he’ll need to shed his scales.”
“That still doesn’t explain why the crib needs to look like that?” Jeneva gestured to the paneling that was metal on one side and soft foam on the other.
“The first time a Skotan baby sheds its scales, it’s more of an explosion,” I explained. Both Amira’s and Jeneva’s jaws dropped.
“An explosion,” Jeneva repeated faintly.
“A tiny explosion,” I clarified. “Hence the padding.” I slapped the foam paneling for emphasis.
“You’re going to have to elaborate.” Amira still looked shocked.
“The foam faces the baby inside his crib. It prevents the scales from ricocheting back and hitting the baby. The metal is to stop the scales from piercing through the foam and hitting anything else.”
“Congratulations on your new baby porcupine.” Amira patted Jeneva on the shoulder.
“When you and Dax have a baby, it’ll be half Valorni,” Jeneva replied, jaw tight.
“I know,” Amira said slowly.
“Meaning it’ll probably be the size of a baby hippo,” Jeneva finished.
Amira went pale. “Oh, we’re definitely never having kids.”
“I can’t wait to hold that over your head when you tell me you’re pregnant,” Jeneva smirked. “The crib can stay, Vrehx. If our baby is going to be shooting scales all over the place, I trust you to prepare adequately.”
“I broke a window when I first shed my scales.” A fact I was quite proud of, actually.
“I’m going to look into a better home insurance plan.” Jeneva pressed her fingertips to the bridge of her nose.
“Get certified in treating puncture wounds while you’re at it,” Amira suggested.
Three
Jeneva
I’d gotten so used to going to Evie for every ache and ailment that I was stunned when she finally referred me to an obstetrician.