Alien General's Beloved: SciFi Alien Romance (Brion Brides)

by Vi Voxley

  His valor squares had been broadcasting a dark, shadowy light while he waited. They pulsed a silent, vibrating tune that sent everyone coming toward him away. None of them did it knowingly; it was simple instinct to distance themselves from the noise their bodies found unsettling.

  Now Corden cast out a different signal. It was common for young warriors to struggle with the crystalline squares at first, when they were not used to controlling them. They sent out everything the warrior felt, that was true. But once a warrior achieved control over himself, they were able to control the squares too, most of the time at least.

  The signal he sent was meant for Palians alone, a frequency specifically tuned for their ears. No one else on the bridge even noticed, but Yarel flinched like he'd been hit. The Palian looked around in the room in confusion, immediately on guard.

  Presumably he was searching for Worgen, the obvious answer to the threat Corden had sent his way. The general emerged from his shadowy cover just a little, to allow himself to be seen when observed at exactly the right angle. As it happened, the only angle it offered was the straight line from the command chair.

  Yarel, annoyed by the frequency, was looking around, still searching for the source. The expression on his face told Corden that he was now expecting to find someone playing a prank on him. The general could almost see the speech ready in the Palian's head, to be delivered to whoever dared to trick him during such times.

  The Palian nearly screamed when he saw Corden. A startled cry nearly escaped his lips, but Yarel caught it at the last second. The reason was the finger on the general's lips, a signal that couldn't be misinterpreted.

  A grin dragged the corners of his mouth upward as Corden found that Yarel was everything he'd hoped for. Despite the initial shock—and no wonder, who in the galaxy wanted to find themselves staring face-to-face with a creature in the dark, especially a Brion general—Yarel was keeping his cool. He'd given no outwardly sign of noticing him after the moment of surprise and Corden didn't think anyone had seen the commander nearly jump out of his chair. The general pointed to the door and Yarel responded with an indiscernible nod.

  Corden left the way he'd come in, through an open doorway, right between the oblivious looks of the people around him. Sometimes it concerned him how easy it was. Almost as if no one else used their senses.

  He didn't have to wait long. Yarel made his way off the bridge, a look of honest confusion on his face. Not seeing anyone, he walked over to his right, to a less crowded area with dimmer lighting. The general smirked, following him at a reasonable distance. He had to make sure the Palian had not signaled anyone despite the obvious warning.

  When there were no others around, Corden detached himself from the darkness around him.

  "This will do," he said, making Yarel nearly jump out of his skin.

  They were in a darkened room, clearly a supply storage area of some kind. It stretched far into the distance, packed together in a hurry. Gods alone knew who could have made sense of that mess. Carriers were often like that, packed in a rush to get the ship on its way, knowing there was nothing else fun to do on the trip than reorganize cargo.

  "Who are you?" Yarel asked carefully.

  Bless your kind, the general thought. You're irredeemable troublemakers, but it takes one to know one, right?

  He grinned, amused by the idea of how similar they were. Only Brions were feared for their temper and Palians praised for their inventiveness.

  "General Corden of the Brion armies, Commander of the Claw," he said, taking a moment to enjoy the different emotions flashing by on Yarel's face.

  Confusion, shock, fear, curiosity. If there ever was a species with their best and worst trait written on their faces, it was definitely the Palians. They could not leave a mystery be, whether it was a thing, a person, or an event.

  "Friend of your captain," he added as an afterthought.

  That calmed the Palian down, apparently. Corden had to admire his little gesha. She hadn't been on the ship for more than a few days, but already she commanded some respect.

  "Captain Cormac sent you?" the Palian asked.

  "No one sends me," Corden said with a warning smile, making Yarel nod in a hurry. "Your captain is sleeping, getting some well-deserved rest. I didn't see the need to bother her with this."

  "She is sleeping," Yarel repeated. "How do you know—"

  The grin spread wider on Corden's lips.

  "How indeed," he said. "I assure you, my gesha is quite fine and in no immediate danger."

  Palians really were a wonder. As soon as he spoke the word gesha, the man relaxed visibly. Other species sometimes questioned the Brion bonds, never truly believing in them, but Palians knew better. Yarel asked no questions. Corden saying Lana was his was enough for him, but there was a concern.

  "General Worgen claims she will be his," the Palian said.

  "Unfortunately for him, no."

  Once again, Yarel merely accepted that as information, filing it away.

  "Are you here to help, General?" he asked instead.

  "Yes."

  "Then I will do everything in my powers to do so. What do you need?"

  Reading other species was always more difficult than judging his own, but Corden didn't doubt his words for a second. It felt good to speak to someone who understood the galaxy as he did.

  "First of all, my being here—in fact my whole existence—must be a secret," he said. "Only Captain Cormac obviously knows."

  "Of course."

  Corden didn't even think of trying the same intimidation trick he'd used on the crew members of Levi. Being a Palian was an oath in itself.

  "While the captain sleeps, you and I must find a way to live through the coming days until I figure out a way to save us once and for all. This requires you to show great courage. I will not lie and say there is no danger. Are you prepared?"

  A shadow fell over Yarel's eyes.

  "The Palians have done a horrible wrong. I want to make amends for it. I am prepared."

  Corden nodded, wondering what fate brought them together there, in the hopes of righting the mistakes of their kind.

  "Good. The first thing I need from you is to repeat those wrongs."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Corden

  The surprise was evident on Yarel's face, his big lidless eyes suspicious.

  "Explain, General," he said, an edge of doubt in his voice.

  "The issue here is time," Corden said. "Lana said Worgen has given you a week to carry out his order."

  Yarel scoffed, looking uneasy. He nodded, confirming the date.

  "Theoretically, would it be possible to do what he asks?"

  "Very theoretically, perhaps. I'm not a scientist myself, so I don't know all the details. From what they told me, a hurried version maybe."

  "All right. Would it be possible to do something that looks like giving that bastard what he wants?"

  Understanding started to dawn on Yarel's face, and it took on a much more positive expression.

  "Yes, I'm sure there is."

  "Tell me about the Flora's scientists. Are they trustworthy?"

  Yarel sighed, like all Palians did when they had to deliver bad news. It was as good as an answer, but he went on anyway.

  "There are weaker specimens in every species. I regret to say their resolve isn't strong. Worgen has them petrified."

  "Yes," Corden noted calmly. "We all have those. The ones we'd rather not call brothers."

  The Palian nodded, understanding that a legendary nightmare was also a bad chapter in anyone's history pages.

  "They'll do as I say," the commander continued, "but I can't know what they'll do if Worgen threatens them again."

  "That is hopefully not an issue. It's your task now to keep them away from him. Insist that you and Lana are the only ones Worgen needs to speak to. Make up any excuses you need to not let him see what is actually going on. Bore him. We get bored easily."

  Yarel accepted his joke with
a quick smile.

  "And what will be actually going on?" he asked.

  "We will target the originals," Corden said with emphasis, to make sure the Palian understood what his intention was. "I've met a few, but he keeps most of them on the Abysmal. If you pretend to obey, he'll have to send them here. And we can take care of them. Once all or at least most of them are gone, the warship poses less of a danger once I kill Worgen."

  The Palian's eyes lit up when he said that.

  "It is good to hear you say that," Yarel noted.

  "In the meantime," Corden continued. "We will have time to figure out how to take out Worgen. The best possible outcome would be to do it on the Abysmal or there is a danger they'll destroy the fleet as revenge. We can't let that happen."

  Yarel nodded.

  "I will do my best," he promised. "What about the Brion units?"

  Corden grinned.

  "I will handle them," he said. "After all, this ship isn't a safe place for them."

  It wasn't often that Palians looked angered or anything else resembling cruelty, but that made Yarel smile.

  "You led that unit to the Torons. And they killed the Brions."

  "They helped."

  From there, Corden told him as much about his plan as he needed to. Having allies was necessary, but he thought it better to only tell the Palian what concerned him. Besides, the general was trusting him with the most important task. Before he let Yarel leave with his new instructions, Corden stopped him.

  "You understand," he said, allowing his voice to drop to a low growl. "Nothing can hurt Lana. Tell her only what she needs to know. And no matter what, don't leave her alone with him."

  ***

  Trusting a whole part of his plan to another felt fundamentally wrong to Corden, but he had no other choice. Someone who could be seen and heard had to organize things on that end. And if you couldn't trust a Palian, who then? He was certain Yarel wouldn't betray him on purpose, but it was another matter entirely if he'd pull off the tasks Corden had entrusted to him.

  But there was no other way. The general had considered the situation from every angle and come to the conclusion that he needed time. He had to signal the Claw and call his flagship to him. No matter what happened to the Levi, it was clear the fleet was in danger and any protection he could offer was good.

  What he'd told Yarel had been the truth. He couldn't kill Worgen aboard the Flora or there would be no knowing what the Abysmal would do when it heard about the general's death. He could hope that the vessel would be thrown into disarray by the fighting to see who would succeed Worgen, but that was a fool's hope and Corden didn't want to rely on that.

  Getting rid of Worgen's actual crew was a close second best. If he had no more warriors, ultimately he had nothing. Even the mightiest general needed an actual army to call himself that. The creatures Corden had been fighting were nothing of the sort. Only those Worgen had sent to kill him on the Raptor had been able to put up a decent fight. He grinned, thinking how important it had to have been for Worgen to kill him if he didn't spare his best.

  Corden found the Torons easily enough.

  They recognized him, it seemed. In the case of the great beasts, it meant seeing him and then pointedly ignoring his presence. If he'd been an unwelcome entity, they would have attacked already.

  "I heard the Brions killed some of you," he said.

  Lana had told him that, but it was nothing but a confirmation for Corden. After Worgen had received news of the dead warriors, there was no other possible outcome. The Brion units had hunted Torons all over the carrier in revenge. The beasts could hide quite well, but a few of them had been found.

  Corden definitely had their attention now. One by one, they rose to stare down at him. It was a new experience for Corden, who had been the tallest person in the room for most of his life. Torons were giants, however.

  "They did," said one of the Torons.

  With them, Corden had found, it was impossible to tell if you were actually speaking to the leader or just the one who felt like talking to you.

  The general could have said he was sorry, but he was not and neither were they. If he hadn't led the particular unit to the Toron quarters, the beasts would have found the Brions eventually.

  What he said was: "I offer you revenge."

  He'd said that in the Toron language. The beasts inclined their big heads, looking at him, as if trying to sense his true meaning, the value of his spirit.

  "We accept," several thundering voices said then, speaking over each other.

  The huge furry wall of bodies around him mumbled approvingly, sounding like wind blowing through a deep forest. The Torons were in agreement. That was good.

  He explained the plan to them, as simple as it was. Any Brion they could find, they would kill. Corden wanted to empty Worgen's reserves, to lure the other general out with his best. To leave only the incapable on the Abysmal. All in preparation of eventually taking the warship.

  It would make a nice addition to the Brion armies, Corden thought. He could imagine parading it above Briolina, the long-lost treasure of their kind. After all, it wasn't the ship itself that needed purging, only its master.

  He didn't know if he should warn the Torons that they might be hunted down with even greater vigor for ading with him. Eventually he settled for saying:

  "More of you might die."

  "We accept," said the Torons.

  ***

  After the trip to his fighter to call the Claw closer, Corden hunted too.

  He hadn't done it in a while and found it to be as challenging as he remembered. During warrior training, with no one else to practice with, it was natural for Brions to hunt other Brions. They didn't kill, only humiliated those who got caught, but this was different.

  Corden hunted the ship, looking for any originals he might find. He took down a few clones too, but with every one he killed, it felt more and more wrong because it was too easy. Corden was grateful to leave that nasty task to the Torons. He took no pleasure in killing those who clearly had no way of matching him.

  The originals—that's how he'd taken to calling the original members of Worgen's crew—were harder to find. In fact, after a while it started to look like there were none at all, until he found one.

  It was him. The man Corden had already killed twice. It had to be fate, there was no other explanation.

  He dropped down from the ceiling on top of the warrior. Unlike others who had lost their grip on their spears, this one caught Corden's strike that was about to kill him. The general pressed down, not hurrying as he should have, too interested in the process. It was a rare occurrence, after all. He hoped that it would be his last time fighting someone to the death three times.

  Corden was so merciful he allowed the other warrior to stand, but not before slashing a clear cut through his comm link. Since it was embedded into the device on his wrist, it took a good chunk of flesh with it.

  The warrior cried out. Even his valor squares flashed a bit, the hint of red hanging in the air. Not completely gone, then.

  "Your name," Corden ordered, knowing he shouldn't stall.

  They were in an empty hallway, but it wouldn't be like that forever. It wasn't a shut-off part of the ship or some unused hangar, merely the spot where Corden had found the man patrolling. Yet he couldn't stop his curiosity from demanding that he take his time with this one. Somehow, he felt as if he owed it to the man, after being his killer twice already.

  It must have been instinct that made the man answer his question, Corden’s authoritative voice commanding attention even in times like these.

  "Prelen," the warrior said before glaring at Corden, his eyes reflecting the anger he felt.

  The general circled him, keeping the man clearly in sights while checking both ends of the hallway. He held the spear in his hands languidly, seemingly at ease, noting with a pleased smile how the warrior didn't take the bait. Prelen followed him step for step, crouched, spear held at the ready be
fore him.

  "Tell me," Corden said. "Do you know that I've already killed you?"

  "We don't have the Palian techniques yet," the warrior answered, still irritated that the general's tone made him reply.

  "I didn't mean like that. Don't you keep track of what happens to your copies?"

  "No. They are not me."

  Interesting.

  "Answer me one thing before I see you die once more."

  The warrior bared his teeth at him in a snarl. "I don't have to say anything to you."

  "And yet you keep doing so. Tell me, how does it make you feel to know that there are copies of you walking around right now?"

  "I don't care," Prelen said, before realizing he'd responded again.

  He dashed forward, but Corden blocked him easily, sending the man crashing into the wall. Watching him slump down, avoiding the wide arc of his spear, Corden carried on.

  "Really? I would. There are men out there, looking like you, trying to fight like you. They wear the same valor squares because your general seems to think it resembles you. So they bear marks of glories they never won, enemies they never beat, victories that aren't theirs."

  It was working. The flash of red he'd seen before was now a growing flame of fury, repressed anger surging to the surface. The warrior was trying to fight the feeling, clearly. It was admirable, but ultimately doomed to fail. Corden knew better. The man he was talking to was a Brion, and no warrior he had ever met could have tolerated seeing someone else wear their marks of honor.

  He'd been wondering how Worgen had convinced his men it was anywhere within the realm of reason, let alone that it was okay.

  "The general ordered this," Prelen said. "This is right."

  "All you've said is that he wants it. I asked what you thought about it."

  Prelen seemed to remember he wasn't supposed to talk to him and stubbornly shut up. He attacked from a low crouch, forcing Corden to block instead of answering. The general locked their spears together, forcing the tips of the blades to the ground and keeping them there. Prelen was now shoulder-to-shoulder with him, trying to pull his weapon free without letting go. Corden let go of his own spear with one hand, only to deliver a nasty blow to the warrior's nose with his elbow.