Page 35 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander

“Voiding brilliant,” the garish one says, shaking his head as his hands navigate his wrist console projection with deftness. “I’ll have to answer for this,” he says resigned.

“The Gods work in mysterious ways,” I offer with an insincere smile, though the tiniest twinge of guilt tugs at the corners of my conscience.

“Seems your Gods keep voiding my ass,” he mutters with bitterness, his surprising openness causes Noroth and myself to erupt with laughter.

The garish one looks between us, perhaps with confusion as our shoulders shake with mirth. “I like you,” I declare, nodding towards him. “Take some credits to make up for your terrible luck,” I offer, attempting to send him currency via my wrist console, however he declines it.

“Thanks, but I can’t accept gifts,” he explains his head, glancing between the other battle drones, the implication clear. He exhales before continuing. “So, from what ship did you arrive?” he inquires, his monotone professionalism now restored.

“The Mutalisk’s Hammer, but don’t let the name fool you,” I reply, already growing weary of his questions.

“I have already cleared their crew and cargo. However, I can add you as stragglers,” the garish one informs us, his gaze sweeping over our trio. “Do you have any goods to declare?”

“We are the goods,” I proclaim, spreading my arms wide with a confident smile.

“I see...” Yet his tone implies he does not. “Void the scan. You may proceed. You don’t have any cargo with you, anyway,” he sighs and clears his throat before reciting. “Please enjoy your stay... At Omega Flux Station, where all your cosmic dreams become reality, may the flux be with you,” his agonizing stiff delivery only enhances this soul-crushing spectacle.

I yearn to shake some life into him, but he is no war brother of mine, and I’ve wasted too much time here. “Indeed. Tell me, do you recommend any pleasure houses? My friend is in terribleneed,” I jest, casting a playful glance at Noroth, who responds with a disapproving frown.

“Pleasure houses? I couldn’t afford such luxuries,” the broken one answers with a hand under his helmet. “But others rave about Fluxom Paradise.” He pauses, playing with his wrist console. “Here, I’ve given you the coordinates,” he says, as my console emits a soft beep.

“Thank you, broken one,” I acknowledge, nodding with a fanged smile, taking out a credit chit worth one thousand credits, flashing it in a blur. “I have a feeling this might get lost. Just over there,” I hint, pointing to a spot just beyond the opened exit.

With haste I exit the crystal inspection barrier, intent on reaching this ‘Fluxom Paradise’ that, judging from the coordinates, lies straight ahead nestled deep within the ring in the commercial sector. As I pass the indicated area, I drop the credit chit to the ground, hoping that the broken one isn’t too broken to accept the offering.

The expanse of white-paved emptiness stretches out before us, a surreal display set against the backdrop of the boundless void of space, contained by the green atmospheric dome that arches overhead like a celestial canopy. As we proceed, the scene undergoes a transformation, giving way to an industrial sector bustling with activity. Colossal machines clang and hum, their movements synchronized as they deposit raw materials into epic-sized processing plants. The sheer scale of the operation is nothing short of awe-inspiring, matched only by the cacophony of noise that surrounds us.

Undeterred by the deafening clamor, we press onward with long strides as aliens of various species come into view, bringing with them the noisy throng of trade and commerce. Heated voices fill the air as negotiations unfold, while onlookers awaitthe outcomes with eagerness, their eyes fixed on the massive green screens projecting goods at auctions.

We tower over them all like demi-gods, indeed many of them whisper and gasp in awe as we pass, the legends of my kin reaching far and wide, a heavy burden to carry. Yet within me, my ancestors reside, and I will not dishonor them.

The dome above now shows the tiered ring looming with oppressiveness above, obscuring the sight of the mesmerizing beauty of space. As we draw closer toward the crystalline shard at the heart of this station, I scan the crowded merchant stalls and kiosks hoping to catch a glimpse of the Mutalisk Hammer’s crew, of Tyrxie... but I find only disappointing longing.

Why does this treacherous pining grip me so?With ruthless determination, I suppress the emotion, burying it deep within my skull. Encasing it within a cage of resolve woven from arcweave and scornful neglect, hoping it withers and dies. The eager attentions of willing females will serve as the funeral pyre to lay this unwanted sentiment to rest, as I hasten my pace propelled by the thought.

The noisy clamor of the crowd lessens and the open merchants’ squares shift, becoming straight streets with buildings of various sizes, many of them displaying holographic signs of multiple colors advertising their wares or services. Some merchants stand hawking, beckoning us to enter their establishments, but my gaze falls on the tall building coming into view.

Amongst the sea of white and crystal buildings stands a sleek black structure laced with golden intricate details and lewd statues, hinting at the carnal delights inside. Emblazoned upon it’s the name ‘Fluxom Paradise,’ not projected in holographic form but crafted in flowing gold letters, a touch of natural artistry that elicits a smile from my lips.

“I think this will do nicely,” I announce, grinning at my companions, unable to hide my excitement.

Noroth’s eyes roam over the building, an ever-increasing smile creeping over his lips. “Looks alright,” he concedes. Meanwhile, Logarn stares unemotional and blank as if he stands before a mere latrine, but I refuse to let anything dampen my mood.

Steep black stairs with gold railings lead upward towards the entrance. I ascend each step like a challenge, like I’m entering a new temple on Klendathor completing a different type of Proving—one more fun.

Reaching the top, massive golden doors that dwarf even me bar our path. Engraved with intricate details, flanked by two guards.

The bulky Tuskarian and the shifty-eyed Jungarian exchange a nervous glance at our approach. Immaculate black and gold suits almost obscure their arms and armor. But I see them, the threat they might pose. I judge them inconsequential.

“Hail, trivial friends,” I introduce myself with a broad smile looming down at the pair.

“Trivial!” the ebony furred Jungarian sneers, bristling with evident disdain as I regard him with mild amusement.

The Tuskarian, a head smaller than me, taps his friend on the shoulder. “What are you, crazy Luskin?” he exclaims, his deep voice full of worry. “My apologies,” he snuffles with his tusks, making a placating gesture. “Do you carry any weapons? If so, we must ask that you surrender them here.” He points towards a cabinet protected by a green pulsar field.

With a subtle flex of my sharp claws and a grin that reveals my formidable fangs, I respond. “Just myself, but I have no intention of being confined to your little cabinet,” I lie, maintaining my grin, staring with intensity into the Tuskarians’ brown eyes. Few species, especially civilians, would know whatour Klendathian armor is capable of. The plasma shield, claws and blaster locked within my gauntlets.

“Of course not,” the Tuskarian snorts, a faint smile flashing across his features. “Welcome to Fluxom Paradise. Please enjoy your stay,” he declares with a deferential bow, while the other guard taps on his wrist console. The huge golden door’s part down the middle, opening with a smooth motion. Drawing me towards it like an entry into the vaunted gates of some celestial realm.