2 Vitus

A year ago today, my father died in battle against the Nebulous Empire. I held him then like I carry my second in command, Rhynin, back to our ship.

The bloodstains on his uniform and the way his head rolls around confirms the reason we must focus solely on this war, not on frivolous things meant for civilians and politicians. He is badly injured, but I think he will live.

Our conflict on the outer moon of Orphius with the savage thieves that raid our ore bunkers doesn't bode well for the success of my leadership in the absence of my father. My army pelts the enemy vessel with quad-force pulseguns that eat into their smoky black shield and then disburse in fractal patterns.

It's as if the shield heals itself as it's injured. I cannot make sense of it.

Our war with the shadow soldiers has gone on for nearly a decade. They get what they want. Few of their soldiers die. Many on both sides of this battle were injured.

All Rhynin can mumble about is his wasted entry into the Alien Bride Race. He doesn't care about the ore we need for our ships and weapons.

"How can you worry about a mate when you are so close to death?" I ask in our native tongue.

A medical team hurries down the ramp of our troop transport with a litter. I lay Rhynin on the canvas. He grips my arm as I'm about to turn away and return to check on the rest of my soldiers.

"I want you to take it," he rasps.

Rhynin's my height though of a narrower build. He grasps his side and winces. A shadow soldier stabbed him. They are crude in their tactics and have no honor. If they needed supplies, I would negotiate a deal. Instead, they attack us, break-in, and steal.

I sigh through my nose in irritation at my lost opportunity to get revenge. Then I tap the comlink on my wrist and call my troops back.

The enemy is gone for now. But I must place a permanent unit on the moon to protect what assets we still have.

Rhynin begs me. "You need a vacation."

"I need to protect our asses," I retort.

My uncle joins us, his armor charred from a blast. Blood drips from an ear as he rests his pulsegun on his shoulder. "Your Second is right. My soldiers can guard the Arethinum. Yours have been fending off these attacks for long enough."

My soldiers could use the rest. I don't want to admit that I need the same. They are my responsibility. Their deaths and injuries fall on me. "I accept your offer to guard the moon while my men rest. But I will not take a vacation."

"I'll stay in your place." Darius, the leader of my elite Nightwalkers stealth team, joins us. He grins like he's satisfied with the battle and exposes blackened teeth from undoubtedly biting a shadow soldier. He is almost as crude at they are.

Darsus wipes his mouth with a hand and holsters his pair of blades behind his back. "You're pushing yourself too hard. Your father was the same way."

My uncle chews a lip and hangs his head with a nod. "Look where that got him."

Anger flares in me, tensing every muscle. "Do not talk of him as though he didn't know exactly what he was doing. He saved an entire platoon with his sacrifice!"

"He was my brother," my uncle snorts, blue eyes filling with light. It happens when we're emotional. "I knew him far better than you, Vitus. General or not, you must know your limits and when you must retreat so you can fight another day.

"The war will not end with this battle or the next. It will continue until we understand the nature of the Nebulous Empire. It has been nine years, and we still know next to nothing! We must cycle the armies until the full war assault begins. When it does, we need to be ready. Everyone in this galaxy is in the same position. The shadowed ones are a scourge on us all. But life must go on. There must be future generations to fight these battles. And that means finding mates.

"I do not have time—"

My uncle cuts me off. "Make time. Your father made time for you and Lasri. But since you are the end of his line, you better damn well find a mate."

He turns to storm off, then pauses. "And for the love of Nytheria, have more than one child, or our numbers will fade faster than a pulsegun blast against shadow shields."

"Grumpy." Darsus waggles his brows. "His mate must be cycling."

I signal for my army to load onto the troop transports behind me. Darsus may be right, but as I glance at my uncle who now speaks to his soldiers, I think he misses my father as much as I do, maybe more. But he's reminded me that our survival isn't solely achieved by protecting our resources and our kind. We must grow a future generation to have something to protect.

The idea of dividing my time between my soldiers and a mate is not appealing. I struggle enough to keep my soldiers safe and happy. I cannot see how I could in any way do the same for her.

"It was all your father talked about," Darsus says quietly.

"What's that?"

His eyes are a bright but icy blue, the kind that cuts into the soul of anyone he looks at. His scales are finer than mine, darker blues and purples, and lack the luster of our natural bodies, like most soldiers. Only city males have time or care to gloss up their colors to catch the attention of females. "You finding a mate and being better to her than he was to your mother. He didn't want you to be a soldier."

I remember.

The guilt comes back to me. It's why I focused on our military efforts, hoping he would respect that my mind was somewhere else.

As the last squad loads into the transport, carrying their injured, I hike up after them. "She knew who she bonded with."

"You're right. She didn't die of a broken heart when your father put his soldiers before his own son." Darsus always says what's on his mind.

I stand in the center aisle, grab a strap overhead, and motion for the pilots to take off. The engines crackle to life and then smooth into a warbling drone as we rise from the surface of the moon, leaving my uncle and his army behind. Darsus stays close. It is his position as Stand-in Second, with Rhynin injured.

"My father knew that his men had their own sons and daughters to worry about. It is a sacrifice and a duty we understood as a family. My mother died of a heart abnormality, like many female Nytheralians. You know this."

Darsus hums a low note. "Whatever you have to tell yourself."

Rhynin motions me to where he lays, strapped to a med bed in the back.

As I walk toward him, hanging onto the overhead railing and checking on seated soldiers when I pass, Darsus calls to me again. "Where is your family now?"

I stop and glare back at him. "Here, with our soldiers. This is my family. They have always been my family."

"Is it enough?" he asks.

The men around me are tired and beat up. Several assist their injured comrades. Few listen.

"We protect each other." I have defended them countless times. They were there for me when my mother died and then my father. Now, they fight for Nytheria under my command.

A seated soldier extends a cold pack to me from his med kit. "Saw you take that cannon to the chest when you went to retrieve Rhynin."

I thank him and accept the pack. My chest hurts, but the more Darsus pokes me over the issue of family, the less I think the pain is from just the hit.

Sitting beside Rhynin, I unclip my cracked armor and toss it aside. Twisting the cold pack, I am reminded of why we joined the Sol Federation and formed a treaty with Earth and other planets. Some of their healthcare inventions have improved Nytheralian quality of life beyond what we considered possible.

A deep breath quells much of the ache that lives inside my ribs. The cold pack helps with the rest.

Rhynin reaches for my hand, so I take it. "I, Second Rhynin Laernin, transfer my entrance into the Alien Bride Race to General Vitus Alor Noremus, effective immediately.

Something buzzes in my hand, bites into my flesh, then beeps.

I jerk my hand back. The chip card he's tucked in my palm blinks with my name and a host of DNA and health markers that scroll across the screen.

Sufficient—Data Sent. Please Report Three Hours Early for Final Inspection Prior to Take Off.

To say I feel betrayed is an understatement.

"Do you not have concern for the wish of others? This is not like you to force me to do something. We have always been a team," I whisper in shock.

Rhynin's bloodshot eyes implore me to ease the tension in my body. "I am in no position to find a mate. I could not chase a mouse, let alone a female. And I want to catch a strong one. I want her to want me to be strong."

"You are. You protected three squads today," I remind him.

He puffs out a breath and looks up at the transport's ceiling. "For once, I wanted to chase something I dreamt about instead of dreaded."

"Then why give this to me?"

"Because you need it more."

"No—"

He growls. I have never heard my calm friend make such a warning noise. "You need someone to remind you that life can be more than fighting."

"I don't want to bring a female home that isn't ready for such conflict."

Rhynin slams his fist on the med bed, rattling the IV post clipped to the foot of his bed. A few nearby soldiers turn to look.

He must be in a lot of pain. It's the only reason I can figure my best friend has such a short temper. "Just—try, for me. If you're unhappy with your selection, you can trade or step back from your choice. There's a list of scheduled events in the holovids that are on that chip. Watch them.

"I saved up for two years to get that slot. You'll still have to do the paperwork and finalize your entry."

I scroll through the information as we head back to Nytheria. Rhynin's right. There's a way to get out of the selection process at the Mingle Celebration after the race, plus a host of other opportunities at each following event.

They run us through a series of games to expose our flaws and strengths so we can quickly learn about one another. But if we are of a species that believes in fated mates, we can elect ourselves out of the game if we and our female agree.

And then the thought occurs to me. "Why would you want a human mate?"

Rhynin subtly shakes his head. "I've not found any of our kind interested in me. My colors are pale after being sick as a youngling. Humans have far better medicine. And their females have curves to die for."

A tickle of excitement stirs in my chest. I grind a palm into my ribs, evoking pain to smother it.

"My brothers can all be Nytheralian to their core. That's fine," he says. "But I am open to trying new things if it means my daughters will have healthy hearts. The High Council supports my decision."

I don't want to end up breaking one.

I stare down at the blinking, translucent blue chip. There has to be a way out of this. I have no desire to drag a mate into my life.