by Luna Hunter
It’s as simple as that.
I hold his hand tightly as he leads me up high in the stands, visible to all. The crowd murmurs disapprovingly, and when I sit down, I catch Commander Helios’s eyes right away.
They’re filled with purist hatred.
In the past, I might have looked away.
Instead, I tick my neck up proudly.
Theros stands up and roars right away. “How dare you give such an evil look to my mate?!” he says.
The crowd is shocked, and a silence envelops the entire arena, all eyes on us. Even the warriors in the center stop their battle and look up at us.
This is not how we planned it, but I like how he stands up for me without a second of doubt.
“Yes, you are seeing it right,” he says, addressing the crowd. “My Zorashi symbols have been activated. I am Chosen, just as she is. My mate!”
He grabs my hand and pulls me up to my feet. We raise our hands up high as we look at the many, curious faces.
“The Mating Star Prophecy — it is true! The stars align!”
A group of Sacred Mothers wearing pink garbs stand up and applaud us with wide smile on their faces. The reception from the rest of the crowd is quite mixed — and Commander Helios looks like he’s ready to explode.
“We have yet to see any proof that the Mating Star is upon us!” he bellows.
My mate turns to me.
“Ready to prove them all wrong?”
I nod.
“Ready.”
We close both our eyes and focus upon each other’s energy. I feel the wind picking up speed, my hair dancing in it, my toes leaving the ground as the energy coalesces all around us.
Ever since we’ve been on New Exon, our powers have become much easier to control. It’s as if this planet itself is our anchor.
We are floating in the air.
The crowd gasps collectively. I take a quick peek, and see that even Helios’s mouth is agape.
Theros summons a portal beneath our feet, and we both let ourselves drop in.
Moments later, we re-appear — in the middle of the arena.
After a moment of stunned silence, the crowd erupts in thunderous applause.
“It’s true!”
“Bless the Sacred Mothers! They were right!”
“The Mating Star is upon us!”
“Glory to the Chosen!”
These are only some of the cries I hear, as everyone is whipped into a frenzy. The Sacred Mothers descend the steps and rush towards us, absolutely giddy with excitement.
“You must follow us to the Ua halls!” one of them says. “We will complete the Mating Ceremony as soon as possible!”
“How soon?” I ask.
“Why, today, of course!”
Theros squeezes my hand. “What do you say, love?”
“Let’s do it,” I laugh. “Let’s do it!”
He grabs me in a tight embrace and kisses me, a kiss that promises to last forever.
Chapter Thirty
Anaya
Epilogue
“Are they here yet?”
“They will be here any moment,” Theros responds.
I can hardly wait — Mikael is on his way! I keep looking up, hoping to catch a glimpse of his transport ship. It’s been too long, and I’ve worried myself sick, but all for no reason, thank the stars: Mikael/Zaid and Sanura have kicked SINTRA off Corlis station by leaking the entire story into the public data feed! The outrage was swift and just, and the Corlis rulers backtracked immediately, severing all ties with SINTRA Corp.
It will hardly be the last time we’ll have to deal with them, I imagine, but a victory against them feels good.
Almost as good as it feels to share a bed with Theros every night. Our Mating Ceremony passed by in a flash, as the Sacred Mothers guided us through one ritual after another in a frenzy, but that’s okay — because I have my mate.
Together, we can take on anything.
The Thaboists still grumble about it all, but none have dared to openly challenge Theros or the Sacred Mother’s decrees. It seems that we’re truly making an impact on the Zorans as a whole, and that makes me very happy. Our connection is simply too strong to be denied.
I have cleaned our beautiful, lake-side cabin three times over in preparation for our synthetic visitors. I’m just so nervous.
“Look! They they are!” Theros says.
A ship appears on the horizon, and my heart feels like it is going to explode. The moment it touches down on the grass field in front of our house I’m bouncing on my feet, my heart racing.
“Anaya!”
Mikael rushes towards me the moment the doors open, and I just about jump into his arms.
“You look amazing!” he says.
“No you!” I answer. “And you too, Sanura!”
“I do my best,” she grins, looking as stylish as ever as she saunters her way towards Theros and me. “How’ve you been?”
“How have I been?! What have you two been up to!” I just about scream.
“Make that us three, darling.” The voice comes from Mikael — no wait, that is Zaid talking. I can tell by the accent.
“Sorry, you three,” I correct myself. In my excitement, I nearly forgot about the other AI taking up space in Mikael’s body. “How are you two holding up, anyway?”
“Oh, it’s taken some getting used to,” Mikael responds in his usual voice. “Especially now that Zaid and Sanura are a thing.”
“No way,” I gasp.
“What can I say,” Sanura laughs. “Guilty as charged.”
“How does that even work?” Theros asks. “Zaid and you share a body…”
“Trust me big guy — it’s better if you don’t ask,” Mikael laughs. “No, it’s fine. We both share this body, so we try to divide the time behind the ‘driver seat’ if you will evenly. It’s the least I can do — he saved my life after all. Plus, without his help, we never could have gotten SINTRA kicked off-station.”
“Nah, that was all you, partner,” Zaid responds.
“Nonsense,” Mikael quips.
I struggle to follow, as my best friend has a conversation with himself. Sanura sees me looking confused and laughs. “See what I have to deal with?” she smirks. “Come, show us your home. I can’t wait to see how you organics live.”
“Be my guest,” I laugh. “Be my guest!”
Mikael/Zaid and Sanura enter our cozy cabin, and before we follow them inside Theros grabs my waist and pulls me close for a kiss. “I love you,” he growls as he nuzzles me.
“I love you, too,” I answer. “You don’t mind my synth friends visiting, do you?”
“Of course I don’t,” he answers.
At that moment, a small ship touches down next to the transport vessel. I recognize the colors right away — it’s a Kazimir ship!
Theros frowns. “Strange,” he says. “Very strange.”
A Sacred Mother, dressed in her traditional pink garbs, exits the ship and rushes towards us. When she comes close I recognize her: It’s Doya, one of the Mothers that Theros is closest to. He told me that when his abilities first manifested, it was she who helped him come to terms with his newfound powers.
“Thank the Mating Star you are both here,” she says, panting.
“Please calm down, Doya,” Theros says, offering his arm for her to rest on.
“Can I get you some water?” I offer.
“No time, girl, no time!” she says. “We’ve just received word from Garna. There’s a girl there we believe is one of the Chosen, but our comms have suddenly gone dark!”
Theros and I exchange a grim look.
“SINTRA,” we both say at the same time.
“Say no more,” Theros growls. “We’re on our way.”
The end!
I hope you enjoyed Book 1 in my new Zoran series. Book 2, which well tell the story of of the Chosen on the planet Garna, will be out later this month.
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If you want more Zoran in your life, I have good news: I have three completed Zoran series you can read right now! Just flip to the next page to read a preview of the very first Zoran book, Alien General’s Baby, or check out my Amazon page.
Happy reading,
Luna.
Preview of Alien General’s Baby (Zoran Warriors Book 1)
Jillian
Oh boy.
I’ve heard only rumors about the ruthless Zoran. Some say they are seven feet tall and all bulging muscle, with sharp fangs and devilish horns, and eyes as red as fire. All I know for sure is that they are the most powerful force in the galaxy, and we humans have stayed clear of them.
Until now.
I have no idea how to act around such infamous intergalactic killers. I am a geneticist, not a psychologist or a sociologist. I prefer to spend my time in the lab rather than mingling with people, and the intricacies of interspecies etiquette are absolutely lost on me.
At the moment, however, I’m concerned with more pressing matters.
What the hell am I going to wear?!
The Vonnegut glides its plotted course around Earth, the silence of space a stark contrast to the pandemonium inside my quarters as I desperately search my closet for appropriate attire. I had thought picking an outfit for my brother’s wedding was hard. What are you supposed to wear to an interspecies first contact?
“Try the black dress,” my assistant Kelly shouts. “I got the perfect heels to match it.”
I roll my eyes. I’m a woman of science, more at ease in a lab coat than a little black dress, and I am not about to go down in history as the klutz who tripped on her heels and spilled hot coffee on a Zoran General and accidentally incited an intergalactic war, thank you very much.
“What about my lab coat?” I ask Kelly. “I could just wear that. It’s distinguished and lends me an air of credibility… right?”
“Pff,” Kelly blows me off. “Who cares about any of that? You should look hot,” she says gleefully. “It’s your special night! Your first gala as head of the Bioscience program! Don’t you want to impress those Zoran warriors? I’ve heard they’re huge, with hands twice as big as our own… and you know what they say about aliens with big hands…”
“Is alien junk all you can think about?” I ask.
Kelly grins mischievously. “Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind.”
“Never,” I lie.
Kelly is my best friend, and has been with me throughout my entire career. Wherever I go, she goes. We couldn’t be more different, but it works for us: I’m curvy with an unruly bush of brown curls, while Kelly has a slim figure and straight, golden-blonde hair. Furthermore, I’m perpetually single, while Kelly somehow manages to combine our grueling hours in the lab with an active dating life. How she juggles all her responsibilities is absolutely beyond me, but she pulls it off.
Together we lead a team with an intimidating but extremely important goal: to cure the black cough. Our planet is buckling under its own weight, and the uncontrolled polluting of the environment throughout the 21st century is now causing massive illnesses all around the globe. Those unfortunate souls who can’t afford to live in the luxury high-rises with their own filtered air systems are exposed to contaminated air on a daily basis.
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.
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.