The pull was a living thing now, clawing at my ribs. This was not the time for elegant words or imperial posturing. I stepped forward, my aura flared dark and cold, the executioner’s presence filling the hall like the first breath of Nox Eternum. “Enough.”
All eyes turned to me. Xandros’ brow lifted. Ashley’s hand drifted toward her hip, habit, I suspected, and brushed lightly against her blaster. I met the Commander’s gaze directly. Energy surged between us like a blade drawn in the dark.
“We did not come for pleasantries or to debate jurisdiction,” I clarified. “The darkness we fight does not respect borders or chains of command. It is already here. And if we waste time measuring who holds the biggest fleet, it will feast while we argue.”
Zapharos shot me a warning look. Dravok’s shadows stilled. I didn't care. The flaw inside me—the heat, the longing, the question the Abyss had never been able to answer—was ready to assert itself if necessary. I needed to find the source of the pull. Xandros' mind was closed off. Or as closed off as any mortals could be. Still, I was able to pull enough fragments to accuse, “Superior Commander, you’re holding something back.”
The room blinked around me. For a moment, all the elegant masks faltered. Zapharos stiffened, Dravok’s aura flared, and even Ashley’s chin dipped a fraction, betraying something like respect. Xandros only smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile.
“You are direct, Arkhevari. But you already knew that. So let me be direct too." He stepped in front of me, "Stay the drek out of mine and Ashley's head; that goes for all of you." He glared warningly from one of us to the other. He glanced at his mekarry with enough devotion to nearly touch my heart. If it wasn't debatable that I had one.
Ashley shrugged and didn’t look away. The female had a death wish, I decided, but I almost admired her. Xandros folded his arms; his bulk threw a shadow across the proudly displayed credenza. It didn’t mean a thing to me.
“What do you think we’re hiding?” He made it sound like a challenge.
“You found something.” That was about everything that I had been able to extract from his mind, that's how closed off it was. An impressive feat. I intentionally rippled my own darkness around my skin, enough to make my aura glow black, a reminder of the role I could play if I chose.
A moment’s silence, as if the words had dangerous weight in this palace of power. Then, Ashley snorted once, dry amusement. “I thought we were allies, right?"
“Not if you're keeping secrets,” I clarified.
To my surprise, she grinned at that. “Fair enough.”
Zapharos glowered, but I sensed his question was the same as mine. Dravok had stopped even pretending to be polite. Nadine outright fidgeted, unable to keep her energy caged.
Ashley broke the impasse. “We did find something. A ship. It didn’t respond to hails. We thought it might be a Cryon advance, but it…” She looked to Xandros, who shrugged, giving her leave. “It wasn’t. Not even close.”
"I imagine ships try to get to Earth all the time now," Dravok interjected, although he probably knew as well as I did that wherever this was going wasn't your normal fly-by.
"They do, but nothing like this… " Ashley looked to Xandros again, who shrugged one more time. "This type of ship wasn’t made anywhere in the known universe."
That statement raised even Zapharos' eyebrow. Nadine's energy took up another notch. "Oh." Her eyes practically gleamed with excitement.
Dravok leaned in, all predatory attention. “Show us.”
Xandros didn’t hesitate. He gestured toward the corridor with a sweep of his arm, then turned and strode off with that measured, arrogant confidence that only the top of a hierarchy possessed. I followed, and the others fell into step around me. My curiosity was aroused, but the pull I was experiencing was turning into an ache I knew I wouldn't be able to put off much longer.
They brought us to a hangar two decks down, a vast, echoing space lit by surgical blue floodlights. Half the bay was cordoned with mag-shields, and security personnel were stationed at every junction. The focal point was a ship. It hovered in the grip of tractor arrays, not so much docked as dissected, machinery fused with bone, a hull that looked grown instead of built. The design was wrong in every possible direction; asymmetrical, void-black, with surfaces that shimmered and crawled as if it were under constant molecular repair.
For a moment, even Zapharos lost his composure. “What in the name of the Great Abyss is this?”
It was magnificent. But it was also wrong, a wound in three-dimensional space, even standing still.
Xandros shook his head, unable to keep the challenge out of his voice. “You tell me. You are the gods. Us mere mortals have never seen anything like it, alive or dead.”
Zapharos circled the observation deck, eyes locked on the ship. “It’s a hybrid. Organotech, but not like anything… it looks… self-healing. It's not made from metal or alloy. It’s… protein chains, carbon-silk.” He stopped. “There’s no registry?”
“None,” Xandros nodded darkly. He was silent for a beat. “We found… people aboard.”
That got all of ours’ full attention. “People? What species?”
“Two who were held in captivity, and four others.”
I was starting to lose patience with his mysteriousness. If he was going to fill us in, he’d better do it quickly.
He pulled out his palmtop, and a holovid appeared of a creature in front of us, a being I had never seen before. I leaned forward despite myself, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as the image resolved into a single figure. The head was distinctly square, broad and geometric, as if carved from living stone rather than being born. High, flat planes spun across the forehead, and a strong, angular jaw gave the face a severity that suited ceremony more than battle. Emerald-green skin stretched smooth and luminous over those hard lines, catching the light like polished armor. Not the soft green of some fragile jungle world, this was deep, vibrant, almost metallic, the color of venom or ancient weapons left too long in starlight.
The features themselves refused to settle into one thing or the other. Its cheekbones appeared sharp enough to cut, yet softened by a refined, almost delicate curve. The lips were full but firm. The overall impression was androgynous in a way thatfelt deliberate, dangerous, like the being had been forged to blur every line an enemy might try to draw. Neither male nor female in the way mortals understood it. Both. Neither. Something older.
