26. Xandor

Chapter 26

Xandor

Turnabout

R ising from my bed, I realize it has been days since I last spoke to Tyrxie, though the exact time is difficult to discern in this stifling heap of space junk. My sleep is always brief and plagued with troubled nightmares promising great pain, giving me no respite. How I miss the soothing sun of Klendathor—Gods, any planet would be a welcome balm at this point. Reaching Nebia can’t come soon enough.

Tyrxie haunts my thoughts. Even now, if I concentrate, I can feel her. She’s in the munitions store, where she spends most of her time now. Despite my best efforts, I cannot shake her from my mind. No meditations, no distractions—nothing gives me relief. The bond is satisfied enough with our close proximity, yet it still torments me, urging me to seek her out, like an incessant itch that demands to be scratched.

But with gritted teeth and clenched fists, I refuse. The human female is infuriating. I’ve never encountered someone who knows so little of their own mind, like a tangled web of contradicting thoughts and emotions. It’s exhausting trying to unravel it all, yet no number of reassuring words, heroic rescues, gifts worth a fortune sway her. I’ve given her everything I can, and still, she rejects me.

Yesterday, w e even crossed paths in the mess hall, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at the female, fearing what the treacherous bond would compel me to do. Perhaps have me groveling, begging forgiveness for some perceived transgression I never committed, leaving me not a shred of dignity nor pride. No, I refuse to be controlled.

She’s not my problem anymore, the bond be damned.

The human female is the least of my worries as far as the missions concerned. The crew are unraveling, the Captain and his co-pilot to be exact. I’ve spoken to Kaanus numerous times, urging him to remain steadfast. He agrees with his words, yet I can smell the alcohol on his breath, the lies and defeat stamped in his demeanor. He’s a broken male and I lack the luxury of time of piecing him back together. Perhaps if I could convince the fierce Hyanxa to return to him?... No, it’s Tyrxie he wants! The troubling truth kills my plan in its infancy.

The Captain laments that Hyanxa not only moved to the general crew quarters but refuses to engage in her duties. Placing more strain on the already weakened Kaanus, forcing me to step in, plotting navigations and relieving the Captain during his frequent breaks... drinking himself into a stupor.

I shake my head with rueful disdain. I would never tolerate this lack of discipline among my war brothers. Yet it’s to be expected, such inferior species would always pale compared to us Klendathians, the greatest warriors the universe has ever known. But the timing could not be worse as we draw closer to the Nebian home worlds. Confronting Nebian or Scythian patrols is an increasing likelihood.

I don my armor, fingers tracing the contours of my warvisor, resisting the urge to test its validity. The sour thought Tyrxie might attempt to steal it again seems absurd, yet the stubborn female is so unpredictable it’s not beyond imagining. Her chaotic nature irks me the most. I pride myself on my ability to see what lies beneath the fake masks others wear, what lies in their hearts. But Tyrxie remains an enigma of jumbled fears, desires, and half-cooked schemes, as inscrutable as the vast expanse of the cosmos.

I sigh, realizing I’m distracted yet again by these incessant thoughts. Perhaps I should relinquish command to Noroth? It’s clear my mind is compromised, like I’m infected by a malevolent virus that seeks to corrupt and override. Gathering the package, the one I’d taken from the cargo hold, I exit my quarters, intending to discuss this matter with Noroth.

It’s a brief journey to reach Noroth and Logarn’s quarters in the same wing of the ship. Muffled voices twitch my ears as the door slides open at my approach, revealing a disturbing and familiar scene, one I’d never have expected.

Noroth grunts with effort, his massive hands gripping the waist of the petite, naked Hyanxa. The female Jungarian snarls in pleasure, bent over the bed as Noroth pounds with merciless abandon into her.

“Not again!” I exclaim, unable to contain my shock, rubbing my eyes with my fingers, wishing this was a trick of the senses. No chance Hyanxa will return to Kaanus now! “We need to stop meeting like this,” I suggest with a frown.

“Hail, Xandor.” Noroth stops thrusting, his huge, muscular frame glistening with sweat. “Perhaps make a recording this time, to save you from repeat visits,” he jokes.

Irrelevant now that I’ll never experience the pleasures of a female ever again. The bitter thought almost spills from my lips.

“Don’t stop now!” Hyanxa demands, bucking her hips towards Noroth with a groan. Her fierce golden eyes flash to me, a smirk playing on her muzzled mouth.

Annoyance flares within me. Annoyance at this scene, annoyance at Tyrxie, annoyance at everything. “No, you stop!” I command, pointing a finger towards the exposed panting Hyanxa. “You should be navigating the ship with Kaanus. Not voiding around!” I state, my eyes glaring into hers.

Hyanxa laughs, tossing her long red hair, still bucking into Noroth, undeterred. “Void Kaanus, and void this ship,” she snarls, echoing a fraction of my own sullen sentiments. The correct response would be to drag her by the scruff of the neck back to the bridge. But I lack the will, overcome with weary resignation.

My eyes flick to Noroth, “Meet me in the mess hall,” I begin as my gaze shifts back to Hyanxa. “When you’re done with this one ,” I finish with contempt.

“Void off!” Hyanxa snaps back, a not-so-fond farewell that suits her. As I exit the room, already the sounds of muffled groans and gasps resume.

Surrounded by chaotic madness! Or maybe I’m the mad one?

I take my time heading to the mess hall, knowing Noroth is... delayed. With plodding steps, I continue, examining the package in my hands. The only pleasure left to me besides battle, almost bringing a smile to my face—almost.

Eventually I reach the mess hall, the stuffy aroma of Nutripaste and whatever vile slop passing for substance aboard this ship assaults my senses. Thank the Gods that I possess the perfect remedy bundled in my arms—borack meat!

Scanning the room, I find Logarn’s the sole occupant. He sits chugging spoonsful of gray slop with methodical precision. Still, the crew avoids us like bloodthirsty Hemovyrns. Clearly, we Klendathians have a fearsome repetition, a troubling problem that’ll be magnified when dealing with the Nebians. A problem for another day, assuming we make it there.

“Hail, Logarn.” I smile down at the youth as I move to plant my package down on an empty table.

“Hail, Second Xandor.” Logarn raises to perform a formal Klendathian salute, forcing me to suppress a grimace.

“Sit and relax, Logarn,” I suggest, gesturing with my hand. “How did you end up here? Did Noroth chase you out?” I inquire with a knowing look.

Logarn resumes eating from his bowl of revolting paste. “No, their grunting disturbed my studies,” he rasps out with a wince, his injury from the graviton rifle still evident.

A brief laugh escapes my lips. “They mated with you in the room?” I ask, my voice laced with amused disbelief.

Logarn shows no emotion as he replies. “Yes. Noroth suggested, watching him mate is the only studying a young warrior needs.”

I erupt into laughter, enhanced by Logarns total lack of emotion in his delivery. “Gods, what a shameless bastard!” I exclaim after the hysterics have subsided.

Uncovering some choice cuts of boracks meat, I bundle them into the food dispenser, ensuring I set the machine to heat mode. Remembering with a grimace, almost burning the kitchen to a smoldering crisp last time, I tried cooking. “How goes your recovery? Your rasp only sounds like a twenty-year scoomer addiction rather than forty now,” I inquire.

“My recovery continues unabated,” Logarn replies, offering little. His stare and tone convey complete blankness.

What timing should I use on this voiding thing? I punch in some numbers into the food dispenser, unsure of what I’m doing. “Good, I see your armor has been repaired by Job. Did you test your warvisor?” I ask, glancing at Logarn.

“Yes, all functional,” Logarn says in a monotone voice. I suppress a groan at his terse responses and lack of emotion. While it’s possible to pull a conversation from the youth using a stream of pointed questions coupled with the patience of the Gods, but it’s an exhausting and one-sided affair.

“Excellent,” I reply, my mind already distracted by this voiding blinking food dispenser. What does it seek from me now? Its demands are unending! The display flashes red as I move the scale to the right. Justifying borack steaks will require much heat, assuming that’s what this setting does. With a shrug I punch in the continue command and watch in joyous victory the machine hum to life.

Content it’s just a matter of time, I take a seat beside Logarn. The weak, tiny polymer chair creaks and bends under my weight as I throw my long legs over the table, reclining with a relaxed breath. “Imagine how small the Nebian chairs will be,” I state with mindless curiosity.

“Tiny,” Logarn answers.

His surprising answer prompts me to smile. “True, Logarn, very true,” I affirm as I close my eyes, hoping to relax, yet it only fills me with yearning anxiety that Tyrxie is traveling down a corridor now. My eyes snap open, and I wonder if it’s possible to forgo sleep altogether.

The door swooshes open and I almost fall righting myself on the chair, thinking it might be the troublesome human female. Yet the intruder couldn’t be more different. Noroth stands bare-chested, sweat still clings to his muscular body, as well as the heady musky scent of mating. His broad, flattened face carries a knowing smile as he enters, strutting like an arena champion.

“Nothing like good mating to put a spring in a warrior’s step,” Noroth declares with a smirk, stretching his thick limbs.

“Too bad you didn’t spring into a shower,” I shoot back, holding my nose for emphasis.

Noroth sniffs under his arms with a grimace. “And deny you both the scent of an eager female?” he retorts, smiling at Logarn and me before continuing. “Fear not, my brothers, I understand your struggles, but I will bear the burden of our legendary Klendathian virality.”

“I don’t think you understand my struggles, brother. No one does,” I reply with a weary sigh, as I place my legs on the table again. “Tread carefully, you mate with a vipertail,” I caution.

Noroth moves to take a bowl from a cupboard and begins filling it with disgusting slop. “Gods, the Jungarian is insatiable! She can’t get enough. Who am I to deny such a wanton female?” he says with excitement, moving to join us at the table. “I knew she was keen. The way her gaze would linger on me. The Captain must’ve dried her out, but with me she’s gushing.”

I frown at his words, unimpressed. “Trust me, that one’s as likely to cut your dick off as look at it.”

Noroth scoffs, “Not mine. She enjoys it too much,” he states without a hint of doubt.

I shrug my shoulders, hoping he’s right, hoping Noroth can find solace with her. Like finding contentment with a rabid hydralith! Noroth pinches shut his flat nose while he’s about to shovel a spoonful of gray slop into his mouth, prompting me to straighten before gripping his wrist.

“Not today,” I declare with a fanged smile, saving him from at least one unappealing action.

“Huh?” Noroth questions with a frown.

I gesture behind me to the vibrating food dispenser. “I’ve got boracks steaks in there.” Turning to see Noroth’s surprised joy spreading over his brutal visage. “We won’t have to eat this shite again,” I wave a dismissive hand over their bowls.

“Truly?” Noroth exclaims, glancing between the food dispenser and back to me. He continues after I nod in affirmation. “What a glorious day! How did you manage this gift from the Gods?” he inquires.

I mesh my fingers behind my head in smug satisfaction. “The cargo hold. Captain Kaanus kept a few crates. I had my eye on them for a while, so I thought void it, why not?”

“Oh, won’t the Captain miss them?” Noroth questions scratching his head.

I reply, raising an eyebrow. “Strange concern from the one who’s mating his female.”

“You’re surly today, Xandor,” Noroth replies with a frown. “Besides, the way Hyanxa tells it, she’s done with him for good.”

“Indeed, the Captain is done,” I lament with a sigh. “Seeing as I’m doing his and the navigator’s job, I’m owed a little—” My words trail off.

The door swooshes open, drawing my attention, and my heart pounds in my chest as Tyrxie stands at the precipice. Her beautiful green eyes scan the room, a look of shock spreading over her alluring pale features. Yet to her credit, she doesn’t run—not this time, at least.

Despite the yearning chest-thumping desperation that threatens to draw me to speak, to look upon her, I harden my heart, crushing all weakness in a vise made of the thickest arcweave. I avert my gaze and fold my arms, feigning complete disinterest.

“Gods!” Noroth exclaims, leaping from his chair in excitement. “She voiding does exist!”

Oh, she exists alright, and knowing my recent luck, I’ll soon find Noroth mating her too.

The torturous image of her bent over screaming Noroth’s name in lustful pleasure twists my lips into a heart-wrenching sneer. Good, I welcome it, seeking to kill my desire for the female. I will poison it, neglect it until it withers and dies, like some hollow dead thing. The only path left to me.

Tyrxie gasps at the frightening sight of Noroth. Not surprising, he is quite the sight, the perfect combination of bare-chested, brutish strength and intimidating smashed face and lumpy ears. I expect the terrified human to beat a hasty exit at any moment, facing those she’s been hiding from since our arrival.

“Yes... yes I do in fact exist,” Tyrxie stammers back, her uncertainty portraying obvious fear.

Noroth chuckles. “I feared Xandor was overcome with mind sickness!” he continues, still driven with excitement. “It’s pleasing to meet you finally. I’m Noroth and this young one is Logarn.” Noroth approaches Tyrxie to loom over her, performing the Klendathian salute. Logarn soon follows suit but doesn’t speak.

I can almost see the wheels turning in Tyrxie’s head, rubbing that unknown object she keeps in her pocket. It won’t be long. Any second now, she’ll run away. “It’s...it’s a pleasure. I’m sorry we didn’t meet sooner.... I was... afraid,” she stammers, her honest words prick my ears up with surprise. What game she’s playing now?

Noroth releases a sudden booming laugh that would frighten many. “Afraid of us?” he asks with a frown, unaware of his imposing physique. “Only our enemies should tremble in our wake. Not pretty allies such as you.” He thumps his broad chest, before turning towards me. “Unlike those voiding Gorglaxians, isn’t that right, Xandor?”

Noroth’s a fine war brother. I know what he seeks to do, but I refuse to be drawn into a conversation.

“Right,” I respond in a tone that could strip paint from a battlebarge hull, tapping my claws on the table.

“That’s a relief,” Tyrxie says with sweetness, undeterred by her fear and my uncooperative attitude. I’d be impressed if it wasn’t so disconcerting. Is she here seeking revenge? The sudden thought prompts me to glance in her direction to see if she carries the Nebian pistol. For the faintest heartbeat, our eyes cross and expressed in her celestial orbs of emerald paradise lies a haunted look of sadness and disappointment, that almost twists my heart to bursting.

I need to go to her; I need to see her smile... No! I refuse! Damn her and damn this bond! This is another silly game. Lacking attention, she now covets it, only to reject me again later. I will not play this game, I’m done. I avert my gaze to inspect the ends of my claws, attempting to appear bored.

“Now that I’ve met you, I know I made a mistake,” Tyrxie continues, her tone carrying remorse, and I can sense her gaze shifting in my direction. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” she adds another dagger to pierce my already ruptured heart. I need to end this conversation. I can’t endure this much longer.

“We’ve all made mistakes. The important thing is to learn from them and move on... swiftly,” I reply, maintaining my bored demeanor and tone.

“Mistakes can also be mended, like a damaged hull can be patched,” Tyrxie retorts in that stubborn way she possesses.

“Some hulls should just be replaced.” Entire ships, for that matter!

“If you work hard enough, with enough arcweave, even the most damaged hull can be saved.”

“Then you’re left with a rickety old pile of useless space junk, like this ship.”

“This ship is full of stories and personality.”

“Some of those personalities keep threatening to stab or shot other personalities.”

“Maybe because that personality was terrified of the other personalities that threw their weight around.”

“My personality only sought to help!”

“What in the void are you two babbling about?” Noroth interrupts, his disbelieving face glancing between Tyrxie and me at each retort.

I suppress a laugh at the ridiculousness. “Nothing. Tyrxie was just leaving,” I demand, chancing a look over to see the disapproving frown of Tyrxie burning into me. That’s the look I remember! Just a little push and she’ll leave. “We’ll be done soon. You should come back later.”

“Actually, I didn’t come for food. I came to ask you a question,” Tyrxie asserts, her tone growing impatient as my heart pounds in my chest, wondering where her stubborn resolve has come from.

“Then ask your question, female,” I state cooly as Noroth and Logarn retake their seats, the chairs groaning in protest under their bulk.

Tyrxie pauses a moment before speaking. “I was hoping we could talk in private...” she suggests with uncertainty in her voice. My eyes widen at her bold words, fearing if I’m alone with the female, the bond will twist my resolve into a broken, useless thing in an instant.

“No, I trust my war brothers with my life. And there are no secrets between us,” I assert as my disapproving frown shifts to Noroth. “Even though some secrets will scar the eyes for decades.”

My words amuse Noroth, while Tyrxie has her hands clasped together with a look of fearful confusion that batters my very soul. Yet despite the unease roaring through my consciousness, I refuse her, like a blind warrior refusing the glimpse of a beautiful sunset.

“Okay... What I was going to....” Tyrxie begins, her voice trailing off. “Why’s there smoke coming out of the food dispenser?” she adds, with a touch of alarm.

“The voiding borack steaks!” I exclaim as my eyes shift to the growing black plumes of smoke leaking from the infernal machine. Jolting out of my seat, I hurry over to inspect the treachery. “I thought I could smell something,” I complain, swatting the smoke away.

Noroth scoffs. “I thought Logarn farted,” he taunts with a wrinkled nose.

How do I disable this voiding thing? I glimpse Tyrxie approaching and my face begins to heat, whether from embarrassment or her presence I can’t tell. “You’re the one!” she accuses, and at that moment, I know my crimes are discovered. “I’ve had to fix the overheated displacer on this three times,” she adds with a sigh.

Offensive is the best defensive. “Obviously, the whole thing’s defective,” I protest, smirking down at the annoyed female. “Someone competent should really fix this thing properly.”

“Oh, yeah?” she challenges, shoving against me with surprising determination. “Out of the way, so I can see what fresh nightmare you’ve created for me,” she tuts, peering down at the controls. “Void sake, Xandor no wonder the displacer is overheating. You’ve set the heat beyond the default maximum.” Her hands dart over the machine with practiced ease. “How did you even manage that?” She adds her tone incredulous.

Wish I knew. “You wouldn’t understand,” I taunt, smiling at her, struggling to contain my laughter.

She stares at me in disbelief until her face blossoms into a beautiful smile that sends my heart soaring, carrying away my bond-driven madness. “You’re ridiculous,” she relents with a soft laugh.

“It’s not all bad.” I tear my gaze away, to open the food dispenser, grimacing as a black plume of smoke assails our faces, revealing the very overdone boracks steak. “Hmm... I spoke too soon,” I state, extending a claw scraping off the top layer of burned char, revealing something edible.

“Let me see.” Tyrxie clutches my arm to get a peek. “Oh, that looks good to me. I’ve never eaten anything like that before,” she says with excitement, yet her words fill me with pity.

“Truly? We should remedy that immediately,” I suggest, continuing to brush char off the steaks and begin plating them. “As a way of apology for the extra trouble I’ve caused you.” Tyrxie nods her head, a delightful look of eagerness on her face.

“What are you two mating puffrios doing over there? Is it to be disgusting paste crap or glorious borack steaks?” Noroth questions, peering over his board shoulder with an impatient tone.

“The only mating here will be my foot up your impatient ass,” I shoot back at Noroth, noticing Tyrxie’s eyes flick downward for a slightest moment. Oh, did my words disappoint her, or is this more trickery from my bond?

Noroth scoffs as Tyrxie and I approach the table. “Try it, Xandor and I’ll break your foot,” he grumbles, folding his arms.

“Peace brother,” I lay the charred boracks steaks on the table, then smirk at Noroth. “I wouldn’t want to call Quad,” I jest with a smile.

Noroth bristles, “Voiding mockery, that Barlyxian is,” he moans, scratching his side as if the pain from his injury is reignited.

“Are you actually brothers?” Tyrxie asks, looking between Noroth and me with a scrutinizing expression.

“Clan Draxxus brothers,” I beam, thumping my chest with gentle raps.

“Honor to Clan Draxxus!” Noroth yells, thumping his own chest, followed by Logarn with comic lateness, and lacking any enthusiasm.

Tyrxie recoils a touch, and I worry, forgetting how frightening this situation must be for her. I place a hand around her waist, marveling at how tiny and soft she is. “No, we’re not brothers. Those within the same clan often refer to ourselves as war brothers,” I explain in a gentle tone.

“I admire that. Like you’re all one big family?” Tyrxie replies with sweet innocence.

“Yes, exactly,” I agree, then scratch my head, thinking deeper on it. “Except for the killing and dying,” I add with a nod.

“More killing than dying, right, Xandor?” Noroth interjects with a fierce expression stamped on his brutal face.

“Indeed, brother, if the Gods are kind,” I affirm with a solemn nod.

Tyrxie looks a bit puzzled, “You Klendathians are both funny and terrifying at the same time,” she comments with a chuckle.

Her words amuse me as I dish out the plates laden with steaks towards the others. “Tell me, how is it you’ve never had steaks before?” I inquire as I offer Tyrxie her meal.

“Um...” Tyrxie eyes go wide at the offering, prompting me to smile. “I never had the credits,” she answers. A flash of sadness strikes me at her words, and I frown, noting how skinny Tyrxie is, with her visible bones. Bastards half-starved her.

We Klendathians waste no time extending our claws, cutting chunks of meat, and devouring the unfortunate charred steak. Noroth has his speared in the middle and eats without cutting it. “Void!” Tyrxie exclaims, a look of disbelief on her pretty face as she glares at us.

I laugh, realizing she only has a polymer spoon clutched in her hand. “Here,” I offer, pushing my cut-up steak over to her. “Eat mine.”

“Oh, thank you,” she replies, licking her lips. I study her as she picks up a piece of steak, examining it like it’s an orb of Elerium, before with tentative motion, she opens her full lips, and pops the meat inside. The innocent scene somehow stirs something within me and to my chagrin, I can feel my cock engorging. This voiding bond!

I suppress a grimace as I ask, “So, what do you think?”