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“Yes. General Haggoz and I are formulating plans.”
A new alien force, the Pton, had been threatening the eastern borders of their galaxy for the past few years, in some of the sparsely inhabited star systems there. The Pton, from a mysterious galaxy known as L87, was a pinwheel or spiral galaxy, far distant from theirs and billions of lightyears away, and had only recently begun attacking parts of their own galaxy along the border. A large force was headed their way, and Loros, one of the planets directly in the path of their current course, had been alerted by the Tygerians, leaders of the Supreme Axis, that recent scans had detected Pton ships, seeming to be locked in on a course headed toward Loros.
Little was known about The Pton, except for the fact that their armies were fierce, savage, and seemed to followa military strategy aimed at not leaving behind anything that might be useful to the enemy. They destroyed everything in their wake. Any assets that could be used by the residents of the planets they attacked might be targeted, which usually included obvious weapons, transport vehicles, communication sites, and industrial resourceson the planets they conquered. But softer targets like hospitals, bridges, and civilian cities were destroyed as well, leaving the planets they conquered little more than wastelands.
“How does Haggoz like his new position?” Ryan asked.
Since King Davos left on his extended vacation, Mikos had been acting as Prince Regent and his former duties as Dyson, or Battle Commander were being split between General Haggoz and Mikol. It was a huge job, with great responsibilities and required them to confer on a lot of issues. Working with Haggoz, though, had already taught Mikol a great deal.
“He likes it fine, I guess. You know the general—he doesn’t complain about much.”
“He’s been a wonderful help to your father over the years. He has a lot he can teach you.” Ryan tilted his head to regard him. “But that’s not what you’re here to talk about, is it? What’s wrong, honey? You look a little upset.”
“Not upset, exactly, but Father sent me this earlier today.” He pulled up the message on his communicator and passed it to Ryan. “Did you know about this?”
He glanced down at it and then smiled. “Yes, of course. Did you think I wouldn’t be involved in choosing your mate?”
“No, of course not, but…you didn’t say anything, and then Father sprang the idea of a mate on me only yesterday. And today, I get this, like it’s a done deal. Don’t I have some say in who I marry?”
“Of course, you do, within reason. You’ve known all your life that your high rank as heir to the throne of Tygeria would mean a political marriage someday. You may remember hearing about how your father was first betrothed to my sister, before she took off and left him at the altar, so to speak. That’s when I was more or less pressed into service.” He smiled again at his son. “Not that I regret it, though at the time it was far from what I thought I wanted out of life. Your father and I tried to find someone you’d like and be compatible with. However, if you meet him, and you feel the two of you are completely unsuited, then we can try and reassess the situation. He was the only one I thought you’d find attractive.”
“Why is that?”
“He’s Lorian, and they look a lot like humans. I know how much you like humans,” he said, shrugging up one shoulder. “Plus, he’sverynice looking.”
“What’s not to like about humans? Especially if they’re good looking,” Mikos said as he walked in the door on the tail end of Ryan’s little speech. He bent down to kiss his handsome consort, and Mikol rolled his eyes a little at the display. Not that he wasn’t used to this frequent affection between his parents. His grandparents too, for that matter.
Mikos was dressed casually, like Ryan, and sat down on the too soft sofa, gathering Ryan’s small, bare feet into his lap. Mikol’s fathers had never been shy about touching each other in front of him. In fact, it happened all the time, and he had always hoped he’d have just as close a bond with a mate one day. Now the day seemed to have arrived, and he was full of second thoughts.
“Is this about your betrothal?” Mikos asked, beginning to rub one of Ryan’s small feet with his big hands. Actually, Ryan wasn’t a small person by earth standards, but viewed in such close proximity to Mikos, he certainly seemed that way.
“Can you tell me about my future mate, at least?” Mikol had been careful not to have a sarcastic tone, knowing how Mikos would react to that, but maybe not careful enough, because his father immediately got a stubborn look on his face. He answered him in a reasonable tone of voice though.
“His name is Prince Kalen. He’s young—only nineteen, but that’s the same age I was when I got married. He’s heir to the throne of the planet Loros, and he’s quite handsome.”
Mikol ignored the last part, focusing on the Loros part. “Loros? The planet we’ve been worried about—the one the Pton seem to be headed toward.”
“Exactly. He’s considered a Warlord Prince on his planet, and he’s head of Loros’s Planetary Defense Forces. His army is quite loyal to him, according to his uncle, the Lord Regent.”
Mikol frowned. “Lord Regent? If he’s nineteen, why would he need a Regent?”
“His uncle says his father, the late king, spoiled him badly. He says the boy is immature, drinks too much and has a horrible temper.”
Mikol frowned. “And you thought I had a lot in common with this person?”
“Mikol, he’s very military minded, like you are, and he loves his home. He’s also very bright, from what I can find out, and his army would follow him anywhere, so they apparently see something in him.”
“He sounds like trouble to me.”
Mikos shrugged. “He probably is. At any rate, here is the prince’s image, taken only a few days ago. His name is Kalen.”
Mikos handed over his communicator and Mikol found himself staring down at a somewhat blurry image of a really good-looking young man, who looked a lot like a human, as did all the Lorians. He was sitting on a throne with his chin resting on his hand. He looked supremely bored and bad tempered and maybe a little drunk. He was wearing a dark, tight-fitting uniform of some sort, and had long, dark hair, styled in intricate braids, hanging down around his face. The image was a bit blurry and in an uncertain light, but Mikol saw enough to know he looked sullen, petulant, and not at all happy to be wherever he was. He was also very beautiful.
“When and where was this taken?”
“At his uncle’s ceremony announcing him as Regent only a couple of days ago.”
“His uncle, who was taking his throne away from him? No wonder he looks so unhappy.”
