transport will begin in three, two, one…”
The warden’s voice faded. Piercing cold felt like a thousand frozen needles pressing into my flesh. My last thought was that the NPU injection hadn’t been that bad after all.
2
Captain Leoron Turaya, Planet Alera, Outskirts of the Capital City of Mytikas
The sky was black but for the stars as I stood watch on the outermost tower protecting the capital. No moonlight tonight, the darkness feeling like an omen.
“It’s late, Captain. The watch is mine now.” Gadiel was young, barely out of training, but he stood at attention ready to assume my position on watch. His gaze was full of honor and excitement, a look I well-remembered seeing in the mirror. That was before I joined the Coalition Fleet and spent nearly a decade fighting a horror worse than any I could have imagined. I’d seen the Hive, knew what they would do if they ever reached the peaceful planets within the protective arms of the Interstellar Coalition’s Fleet of battleships.
After ten years, my father had called me home. I could continue to serve on Alera, he argued. I would have fought for ten more, but my parents still hoped I would awaken to a woman’s Ardor, that I would choose a mate—or my cock would—and give them grandchildren to spoil.
I’d met countless women in my lifetime, all across the galaxy, and nothing had stirred within me. My body remained mine alone. And to be perfectly honest, I did not hold much interest in changing that. To be so obsessed with a single female? I’d seen mighty Aleran warriors fall, become nothing more than besotted fools. All because their cocks rose—finally—for The One. To be led around by the balls by a female was not what I desired. To be driven by something other than the honor to defend my planet? No, thank you.
I would remain a soldier, a guard, a fighter for life. An Aleran bachelor. Unaffected by the whims of a female.
“Sir?” Gadiel shifted uncomfortably, and I realized I had been staring into the distance, at nothing. No. Not nothing. The spire. That damn queen’s spire and how it glowed bright, the only thing illuminating the darkness.
“Very well,” I replied, turning to him. “May the light keep you.”
“And you as well.”
I nodded in acceptance of his words and left him to attend his duties. The city was at peace, at the moment. The last incursion by an outlying family had ended in bloodshed just weeks before. The tenuous peace would not last. The royal bloodline was weak, with no living members strong enough to carry one of the gifts. Ever since the queen’s disappearance over two decades ago, the capital had been under consistent attack by one grasping family after another. These families believed their wealth and armies would grant them the loyalty of the people.
They were wrong. So long as the queen’s spire burned bright, the royal guard would defend her throne so that one day she might return to reclaim her place among her people. I had lost hope, for I barely remembered a time before she disappeared, but I would fight until the light of the spire died. When that happened, I would fight for the people in my city, choose a family to rule I found worthy. The battles would be bloody, but currently three families held the wealth and power to potentially ascend to the throne. The day the light of the spire went out would be the first day of a very long, very brutal war.
The tower stairs were dark, but I had no trouble seeing my way as I paced through the shadows. There was no need to count the twisting steps, for I’d been this way hundreds of times since my return from space, from the Hive wars.
It seemed my entire life would be dedicated to battle and blood.
So be it. Gods, I was a broody fucker. I needed an Aleran ale, an hour with the hottest setting on my shower tube and my bed. In that order.
Exiting the base of the watchtower, I slowed my pace, in no hurry to return to my quarters. Below me, surrounded by the twisting alleyways and dense tapestry of stone homes, the royal citadel glowed in the center of the city. The strange tower had been there longer than our people had kept records, built by an ancient race of space explorers who left our primitive planet with two gifts—the citadel itself and those who carried their alien bloodline.
The citadel was both a beacon of hope to all of Alera and a bitter reminder that our people had been abandoned when I was a child. I barely remembered the day the king was found dead, the queen missing. My father, now a retired captain of the city guard, still clung to his faith that the royal bloodline lived on, that his beloved queen would return to free us from the chaos of endless civil conflict.
The light shined, so Queen Celene was alive.
But where?
And why had she yet to return?
The younger generation had given up hope. War was coming, no matter how valiantly the clerics fought to keep the peace. I wanted no part in it. The rich fools would fight over something they could never hold. There would be no ascension ceremony, no new queen, not while the light of the spire shined over Mytikas. Queen Celene’s city.
As if the thought had garnered the attention of Fate herself, the NPU implanted behind my ear buzzed with an incoming message.
“Prime Nial of Prillon Prime.” The voice ringing in my ear was clipped and professional, not asking permission to send the communication through so much as warning me that the comm was coming.
I stilled. “Prime Nial?”
The night was not cold, but a shiver of dread raced over my skin as I waited for the most powerful male in the galaxy to talk to me. Gods, why was he calling me? Now?
Prime Nial ruled not just Prillon Prime, but the entire Interstellar Coalition and its fleet of warships. The Coalition military, made up of at least two hundred fifty planets, was his to command in our war with the Hive.
Epic responsibility and power, and he was wishing to speak with me.
I owed him a life debt. My blood turned to ice in my veins. What was so wrong that he would need to call in that mark? What did he need, a man with so much power? How could he need the assistance of a lowly soldier? I was nothing more than a pawn on Alera. In the grand scheme, I was as small as an insect.
“Prime Nial? This is Captain Leoron Turaya. How may I assist you?” My voice cut through the night.
“Leo? Can you hear me?” The Prime’s voice was deeper than I remembered, and the faint sound of a female in the background drifted to me across the vast expanse of space.
“Tell him to hurry. I don’t trust those people,” she said. Didn’t trust who? What was going on?
“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?” How the hell was he placing a direct call to my NPU? The neural processing unit was standard issue for everyone in the Coalition Fleet, and most diplomats from the individual planets chose to have them inserted as well. Universal translators, they made communication across all the races easy, but I’d had no idea the Fleet could transmit directly to me from halfway across the galaxy. From the ground to a ship? Yes. But from Prillon Prime into my skull?
“I have a very important, extremely delicate task for you, Leo. Are you
