Alien General's Baby (Scifi Alien Romance) (Zoran Warriors Book 1) by Luna Hunter Page B
Authors: Luna Hunter
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. It’s a hot commodity on the intergalactic black market, and now the High Command wants it straight from the source.
It’s idiotic.
In the last few cycles, the High Command has grown feeble and weak. They have plucked the fruits of the labor of countless Zoran warriors, and have forsaken our origins.
“Remind me again why we’re here,” I growl as the elevator glides down. “There’s been another Ygg attack on Haven-5. We should be in the East.”
“Watch your tone, Vinz,” Dimtri says. “Remember your station. The Emperor wants to open relations with the humans, and that is what we shall do.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, tasting blood. Control is the most important thing in the life of a warrior: Physical as well as emotional. Day by day it becomes harder and harder to control my urges. I can only sit by and watch the High Command run our species into the ground for so long… but this was not the time to strike.
Soon.
“My my, what’s gotten you so worked up, Vinz? Afraid of a few humans now, are we? Or has it been too long without a mate?” Dimtri goaded me.
He senses my rage — us Zoran have very perceptible senses, and the slightest change in mood gives off a particular scent, which makes complete emotional control all the more important in our culture. Even a weakling such as Dimtri has a rudimentary control of these powers, though of course his grasp pales in comparison to a tried and true warrior. I silently admonish myself for letting this pompous aristocrat successfully rile me up.
“Feel free to take one of the humans, if that’s what you prefer,” Dimtri hisses.
I ignore his blithe statement. He wants nothing more than for me to strike him down in anger so he can get me court-martialed and relieved of duty. My animosity for the High Command is well-known, but my prowess is so renowned that they couldn’t get rid of me without inciting a rebellion.
A human for a mate? I can’t even imagine it. Interspecies mingling is not exactly unheard of. After the inexplicable decline in birth rates, which has of course remained a closely guarded secret, Zoran women have remained exceedingly rare. Unfortunately, no interspecies coupling has ever produced offspring. I don’t see humans — so soft and fragile — being the missing link.
* * *
“ W elcome , General... Uhm..”
A small, frail human male quivers in front of me, his head barely reaching up to my chest. The human is half the width of me and his gut is round where mine is taut. His pupils are dilated, fear escaping from every pore in his feeble body. He offers me a limp hand that I crush. I’ve done my homework and recognize the gesture as a human greeting.
“Vinz,” I answer briskly in Universal. “General Vinz.”
The weak human introduces himself as Tobias, their leader. I don’t understand why the humans have made such a small and pudgy man their leader.
The reception takes place on an observation deck on the top floor of their space station. The spherical glass provides us with a perfect view of Earth, their home planet a blue marble floating in the vast emptiness of space.
I imagine humans consider this a breathtaking sight. I see a glaring security flaw.
I am disappointed to see that the humans share the High Command’s preference for fashion over function. The men are all dressed in strange, dark-colored suits that provide no visible protection. I could easily rip out their throats if I wanted to.
A human female catches my attention. I smell her before I see her — an alluring, warm, pleasant scent that reminds me of the Kyhiss flower that grew in my father’s garden, where I spent my childhood looking up at the stars. On those warm summer nights I’d imagine myself riding into battle headfirst, dropping into the atmosphere from thousands of miles up, cutting through steel and flesh to singlehandedly destroy a Ygg enforcer.
I’ve since then made that dream a reality. What is my reward for my service to
It’s idiotic.
In the last few cycles, the High Command has grown feeble and weak. They have plucked the fruits of the labor of countless Zoran warriors, and have forsaken our origins.
“Remind me again why we’re here,” I growl as the elevator glides down. “There’s been another Ygg attack on Haven-5. We should be in the East.”
“Watch your tone, Vinz,” Dimtri says. “Remember your station. The Emperor wants to open relations with the humans, and that is what we shall do.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, tasting blood. Control is the most important thing in the life of a warrior: Physical as well as emotional. Day by day it becomes harder and harder to control my urges. I can only sit by and watch the High Command run our species into the ground for so long… but this was not the time to strike.
Soon.
“My my, what’s gotten you so worked up, Vinz? Afraid of a few humans now, are we? Or has it been too long without a mate?” Dimtri goaded me.
He senses my rage — us Zoran have very perceptible senses, and the slightest change in mood gives off a particular scent, which makes complete emotional control all the more important in our culture. Even a weakling such as Dimtri has a rudimentary control of these powers, though of course his grasp pales in comparison to a tried and true warrior. I silently admonish myself for letting this pompous aristocrat successfully rile me up.
“Feel free to take one of the humans, if that’s what you prefer,” Dimtri hisses.
I ignore his blithe statement. He wants nothing more than for me to strike him down in anger so he can get me court-martialed and relieved of duty. My animosity for the High Command is well-known, but my prowess is so renowned that they couldn’t get rid of me without inciting a rebellion.
A human for a mate? I can’t even imagine it. Interspecies mingling is not exactly unheard of. After the inexplicable decline in birth rates, which has of course remained a closely guarded secret, Zoran women have remained exceedingly rare. Unfortunately, no interspecies coupling has ever produced offspring. I don’t see humans — so soft and fragile — being the missing link.
* * *
“ W elcome , General... Uhm..”
A small, frail human male quivers in front of me, his head barely reaching up to my chest. The human is half the width of me and his gut is round where mine is taut. His pupils are dilated, fear escaping from every pore in his feeble body. He offers me a limp hand that I crush. I’ve done my homework and recognize the gesture as a human greeting.
“Vinz,” I answer briskly in Universal. “General Vinz.”
The weak human introduces himself as Tobias, their leader. I don’t understand why the humans have made such a small and pudgy man their leader.
The reception takes place on an observation deck on the top floor of their space station. The spherical glass provides us with a perfect view of Earth, their home planet a blue marble floating in the vast emptiness of space.
I imagine humans consider this a breathtaking sight. I see a glaring security flaw.
I am disappointed to see that the humans share the High Command’s preference for fashion over function. The men are all dressed in strange, dark-colored suits that provide no visible protection. I could easily rip out their throats if I wanted to.
A human female catches my attention. I smell her before I see her — an alluring, warm, pleasant scent that reminds me of the Kyhiss flower that grew in my father’s garden, where I spent my childhood looking up at the stars. On those warm summer nights I’d imagine myself riding into battle headfirst, dropping into the atmosphere from thousands of miles up, cutting through steel and flesh to singlehandedly destroy a Ygg enforcer.
I’ve since then made that dream a reality. What is my reward for my service to
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