Page 13 of Cheating Fate

While many of them chose to rebuild their lives on their homeworld, Vintor had been too restless to stay put. As soon as he heard my plans of joining the Sentinels, he immediately decided to follow. His official reason to come here—which I also believed—was a burning need to have a purpose, a chance to be heroic, and the thirst for glory. A part of me believed that it was also out of the need to distance himself from the new Braxian Queen Dawn, who he still had strong feelings for but that she never reciprocated. For all that, as irritating as he could be at times, he was a skilled warrior, dedicated and hardworking, and above all trustworthy.

Before I could answer, Nolar snorted with disdain. The instant desire to punch him in the throat burned in my gut. I almost had not given him a ride. The wretch was Jorak’s little brother. Three years ago, before setting off on that mission to rescue Keran, I mopped the floor with his entire clan led by Jorak in a match of Beikor—our national sport. The loss had not only been brutal, but I also made it extra humiliating to put them back in their place over their constant undermining of Keran’s right to ascend the throne after his father.

“He has every reason to be,” Nolar said in a haughty tone. “He should know better than to go sniffing after the twin sister of the Great General, the most powerful Titan alive. Once she realizes that you’re just a limp dick, twenty-one-year-old virgin hybrid, she’ll send you packing soon enough.”

He was prodding me, hoping to get a rise out of me. Lucky for him, he’d been wise enough to call me a hybrid rather than a half-breed. But we all knew it would have been his word of choice if he could have gotten away with using it.

“Although that won’t happen, I’m glad I will have your shoulder to cry on should the worst come to pass,” I said in an overly pleasant fashion.

He scoffed. “A true male doesn’t cry!”

I opened overly surprised eyes as I stared at him with the least sincere of confusions. “Really? And yet I clearly recall your big brother doing exactly that when I passed him the ball during that Beikor match.”

With a savage growl, Nolar jumped to his feet, muscles bunched, and hands fisted in a menacing fashion.

“Sit down, you dim-witted fool,” Vintor said with aggravation. “Have you forgotten that it’s a crime for a guest to attack his host in their own home? And this ship definitely qualifies as Gavin’s home, in which he was overly courteous to allow you to ride alongside the rest of us,” Vintor added with a barely subtle threat that had Nolar swallowing hard.

“Stupidity truly runs in your family,” Curok said with a chuckle. “Gavin spanked your entire clan and made mincemeat out of your brother in the most pathetic loss in the entire history of Braxia. Instead of mimicking the idiotic and narrow-minded behavior of the elders of your bloodline, you should seize this opportunity to wise up while you’re away from their bad influence.”

I smiled at Curok. Like Nolar, he was a pureblood Braxian. They were both 7’ tall and weighed on average 270 lbs. of pure muscle. At twenty-six, he was just one year older than Nolar. He was the youngest son of the Veelan Clan. Our families had grown very close, in no small part thanks to his grandfather, Elder Pattel, who had helped protect my father back when Gerwin had tried to murder him in his own home. Contrary to Vintor and Nolar who had the usual pitch-black eyes of the Braxians, Curok had dark-brown eyes that shone almost like a gem when the sun struck them at just the right angle.

Of all the people who tagged along with us, he was the one I considered as a true friend and who I trusted blindly, Vintor coming second.

“Whatever your feelings towards me, Nolar,” I said in a reasonable tone, “you should heed Curok’s advice. Out here, we’re each other’s clan. You can be a part of us or persist in being a douchebag and be on your own.”

“I don’t follow your lead!” he spat angrily.

“I didn’t ask you to,” I replied with a shrug.

“Not that you need to, Gavin,” Curok interjected before turning a harsh stare at Nolar. “Once again, you display your stupidity. Gavin could have been Magnar. Have you forgotten how every clan on Braxia was clamoring for him to ascend the throne? Your clan and all the others who sought to take advantage of Keran’s grievous injury to weasel your way to power wimped out the moment you realized you would need to face Gavin first. So shut the fuck up and sit your ass down!”

Teeth clenched, Nolar angrily let himself drop into his seat, glaring in turn at Curok then at me.

“Yeah, he could have been Magnar,” Nolar conceded in a grumpy tone. “But he’s the one who wimped out of it.”

I snorted and shook my head. “No. That’s yet another thing you fail to comprehend. I didn’t wimp out, I stepped aside for the better man. Unlike your clan, I’m not power hungry. I don’t need to rule others for validation. Braxia—along with the rest of the galaxy—is about to enter even more troubled times. It needs a ruler ready to give his life and leverage all his alliances to see it through, not people itching for bragging rights and lording their influence and power over others.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the voice of Captain Yulan over the com informing us that the docking was complete put an end to the discussion. My heart leapt in my chest, and I jumped to my feet with a bit too much eagerness that had my companions chuckling.

We headed to the shuttle that would take us down to the surface. The five-minute flight felt like an eternity and a day. I could barely breathe from fear and excitement, and above all from impatience. The breathtaking view of what would become my new homeworld for the foreseeable future didn’t even register in my brain. I simply focused on the growing size of the training camp as we completed our descent onto the landing pad.

My eyes flicked this way and that, my gaze lingering briefly on every gray-skinned person I saw near our location—few though they were. But none of them had the feminine silhouette of my Zhara.

At long last, the ramp of the shuttle lowered, and the doors parted. Despite the burning disappointment I felt at not seeing Zhara anywhere in our vicinity, I took the lead with the proper level of stoicism as I exited the shuttle. No big welcoming party awaited us. It made sense as we weren’t some dignitaries on a diplomatic visit but merely new recruits hoping to join the Sentinels.

Standing a few meters in front of the ramp, Uncle Ghan, Second Officer Sohr, and a third Xelixian I didn’t know greeted us. The broad and warm smile I started giving Uncle Ghan froze then faded when he gave me a harsh stare, almost a glare.

Although it felt a bit like a cold shower, it was also a good reminder that this male no longer was the sweet Uncle Ghan. He would tell me about my beloved and graciously played messenger to take the presents I prepared for my Zhara to her and bring me the ones she reciprocated with. This was the fierce First Officer of the Sentinels, and right hand of General Praghan. In many ways, he would likely have to act even more severely with me than with anyone else to make sure there would be no perception of favoritism.

As soon as we finished descending the ramp, standing in a loose line in front of the two officers, Ghan took a step forward.

“Welcome to Veredia and to the Sentinels’ training camp,” Ghan said with a booming voice. “For those who do not know me, I am First Officer Ghan Delphin. This is Second Officer Sohr, who will become your Company Commander for those of you who successfully complete the training,” he added, gesturing at the male on his left before turning to the one on his right. “And this is Squad Leader Yhan. He will oversee your basic training.”

Both males quietly examined each of us, their gazes assessing and their expressions unreadable. Based on what Zhara told me about the recruitment process, basic training would be grueling. The Sentinels only welcomed the cream of the crop. The question for me was whether they would crank up the difficulty level for us due to our significantly greater strength compared to most other species.

“You will first unload your personal items. Squad Leader Yhan will take you to the barracks. Recruits in basic training share a dorm and locker room. For larger items like personal shuttles, hoverbikes, or any superfluous things that will not fit in either space, you will be required to put them in storage or in the hangars reserved for transportations.”

We nodded in understanding. Inwardly, I groaned fiercely at that prospect. Although I expected this, it still sucked, especially after so many years living in extreme comfort and luxury. The thought of roughing it on a hard cot didn’t bother me. After all, I enjoyed countless camping trips and extended hunting expeditions with my Grappa in the brutal wilderness of Braxia. But sharing a room with Nolar and countless others didn’t appeal to me. I loved my peace and quiet. And that bigoted idiot was notorious for his loud snoring.