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So far, it has been a lot of paperwork and meetings. All the things a creature of my temperament finds almost unbearable. I fought my way through the ranks to become alpha. Now the fights are over. The position is settled. All I have to do is the job — at least until a challenger appears.
The challengers have been quiet of late, though, and I am bored. Whatever Sona wants on this sunny afternoon is probably another matter of bureaucracy.
“One of your alarms has been ringing for several minutes, sir. I believe it indicates some unrest somewhere in the territory. Whatever it means, it has become quite intolerable, as the constant…”
An alert! That means something serious, like a territory incursion, a violent event, or the rising of a challenger for the position of alpha. I feel my body charging with excitement at the prospect of action for the first time in many weeks.
Sure enough, my office is alive with the siren call of distress. I take note of the location, then rush for the garage, where my faithful steed is waiting patiently. Practically every saurian male with any self respect whatsoever rides a motorbike. Raw power between the thighs, nothing between oneself and the world at large. My bike is a custom-made beast, not subject to the regulations on others. It gleams in black and silver with the exception of the cover plates which protect the engine, made in the image of my own scale markings so that when I ride it, it looks like it feels — part of me.
“Are you going to deactivate…”
The last words I hear from my major-domo, before the rumble of the engine becomes the only thing I can hear, are slightly mournful. He’ll work out how to turn the alarms off at some point, I’m sure. In the meantime, I have trouble to stop, trouble more significant than the sensibilities of my stuffy butler.
Idling through the city agitates my bike. I can feel it pulling against my restraint, wanting open roads and desiring speed. The dash, located between the handlebars, is a screen which usually displays things like speed, fuel levels, that sort of thing. Right now it is displaying a map of my territory, along with alerts.
Most of my realm is displayed in green, which means everything is nicely under control. But there’s a big red flashing light at one corner of the screen, all the way over at the edge, out past the point where I can expect civilization to hold.
The Ground Bar is a watering hole on the outskirts of my territory patronized by outlaws and ruffians. The sort of saurians who only listen to someone like me when I am at my absolute worst. I have a soft spot for the place. It’s where I met my first challenger. Where I started my ascent to alpha as a young, untested whelp. It’s also the first place I ever got my ass handed to me.
Places like the Ground Bar are allowed to exist because they are the places real saurians are made. The city is a softer place. More refined. Full of technology that makes life easier. Nothing is easy out at the Ground Bar. I am thrilled to be called back there, if I am honest. I anticipate a real battle on my hands. I could call for reinforcements, of course. I have my soldiers and my advisors, my pack of brave, bold saurians who could crush a rebellion within minutes. But something is telling me I want to handle this by myself. Ego? Maybe.
I head out from the paved streets and brightly lit buildings at speed and hit the wild roads. The bike bounces and slides in unpredictable ways, but I hold onto it, keeping everything straight and steady.
“Almost there,” I tell myself. “Almost there.”
* * *
“By the primal…”
I cut the bike’s engine and stare at the damage that has been wreaked at my destination. I’ve seen this place after riots, fires, and full-blown battles. It has never looked as ruined as it does right now. There is a large hole in the wall where it looks like something very large and sharp has passed through at speed. There are remnants of speeders and bikes in the rubble, twisted metal and oil spilling out everywhere. I go through the front door, which has been torn off its hinges.
I don’t know what I’m expecting to find inside. Nothing, probably. Looks like everybody ran from something bigger than I’ve seen in a long time. I leave my sidearm in its holster, but my hand is not far from it.
I thought I was used to chaos out here, but this is another level. What kind of troublesome beast has rampaged through here? I don’t have enough firepower for something that can make that kind of hole in a wall. This looks like one of the primal ones came through the wall.
Getting off the bike, I walk inside with the intention of looking for survivors. The place has an eerie feel, almost abandoned. But I can hear a sound of some kind. A light humming, though it is too soft and melodious to belong to any of the rough males that usually patronize this corner of my world. I feel a cold trickle of anticipation running down my spine. Something is wrong here. Something is very, very wrong.
I step through the hole in the wall. The first thing I see is a young human woman is sitting on the bar, swinging her legs a little in what I guess must be a self-soothing motion. She has curling blonde hair and wide green eyes.
I’ve never seen a human this close before. I’m surprised how small she is. She can’t be more than six feet tall. She might even be slightly shorter than that. She’s curvy and she looks soft, even at a distance. She is wearing a dirty white suit that covers her from her neck to her ankles, with big boots that make a rubbery ‘thunk’ sound against the broken bar every time she kicks her legs. A dozen opened and now empty packets of bar snacks are strewn around her. It looks like she was hungry.
“Hello,” she says.
“Hello,” I reply. “What happened here?”
“Oh,” she says. “A lot of assholes. Everywhere. All at once.”
Looking around, I can see that the bar was packed recently. In the back, the cooktops are still steaming away, smoke rising from the grills. I pick my way around the bar, going past the human who does not move an inch, and turn them off before the rest of the place is burned down.
As I walk past her, I pick up her scent. Slightly floral, light, like wild berries, mixed with a new form of pheromones I am not familiar with. I scent arousal. She is absolutely dripping with it. But she does not look like she is attempting to mate. She is simply sitting there, baring short blunt teeth in a smug smile. She seems relaxed, but her eyes never leave me, and the subtle movements of her body mirror mine. She is alert like prey, but she is without a single hint of fear. I do not taste the scent of it anywhere about her.
“Alright,” I say. “I know one little human didn’t cause all this chaos.”
“I did, actually,” she says, opening a fresh packet of snacks.
“Mhm. And how did you get here? I wasn’t notified of any alien species in my territory. It’s not safe for a human to be wandering the world. You could be hurt.”
“Someone could be hurt,” she agrees with what I can only describe as an impish grin. She is very, very happy with and proud of herself, whatever she has done. It is quite interesting to be able to read the emotions of an entirely new creature almost immediately upon meeting it, but apparently humans emote so effectively even a dull brute like me can understand.
