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“I don’t have time for this,” Taryn muttered, but crouched down nonetheless.
His danns were limited, he shouldn’t waste even one of them helping beings who would spear him if given the slightest opportunity. Just how limited his existence would be, he didn’t know.
But one thing was certain–sooner or later, the Blaze would take him and a few other unlucky Quillons who had the dreadful gene which would make them implode. Burst into flames, then turn to ash in a blink of an eye.
That same gene made him smart.
Strong.
Powerful.
But all the strength in the world was useless if he died before his time. And he would.
Not in battle, protecting what he loved, which was the noblest death for a Quillon.
Not during a mission, which wasn’t the end any of his ancestors would have thought worthy, but one which Taryn valued, expected, and sometimes welcomed.
No, he’d face a senseless, useless death.
Instead of making every moment count, he did what he’d wanted to do since he’d left his ancestral home and forged his own path–he risked his life for the greater good.
He pressed each thumb against the middle of the guards’ foreheads. He could feel the hurried thoughts coursing through their heads, pulsing against his skin. He couldn’t read them–and never wanted to–but he could press his own energy against them.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The guards flinched.
Taryn yanked his hands back with Quillon speed and tilted his head to the side. “Help! Two of your comrades are down!”
As his voice vibrated through the hallway, the guards’ double eyelids slowly opened.
“Are you alright?” Taryn asked, voice filled with as much concern as he could muster as the Xanashis’ eyes narrowed on his horns. “What happened?”
Easiest trick he’d learned. Beings who had something to hide usually ran away. Taryn stayed. Convinced. Then usually walked away as leisurely as an innocent being would.
“You–you were standing there…” the younger one muttered and kept looking at the older guard. For confirmation or support, Taryn didn’t know, but he got neither.
“I was. I asked you where the ship port was. Damn palace is built like a labyrinth. Then both of you went down. I called out for help, but nobody answered.” Taryn rose to his full size. “Is there some kind of dangerous gas running rampant through these halls? With so many intergalactic officials in the building?”
The older guard still had his narrowed, cloudy eyes trained on him, but didn’t point his spear at Taryn once he got up.
“Do I need to demand a formal inquest?” Taryn asked. “We have Quillon detectors on the ship, they can expose any dangerous–”
“We don’t need Quillon’s help, we have our own technology,” the older guard grumbled. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Of course he’d turn his pointed nose at a Quillon’s offer, but the Xanashis had jumped at the chance to get Zavorian’s tainted technology.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t,” Taryn said. “Escort me to the ship port.”
They did.
Sometimes, it was too easy. Taryn didn’t need to read thoughts to guess what most beings assumed.
Once they reached the Quillon ship, a pure silver vessel with a long, sharp shape that slashed through the galaxies, Taryn patted the older Quillon on the back with a quick thank you–and an even quicker hand movement.
