A weapon should not have a mind of its own – especially not if it is unencumbered by any form of morality
My hand trembles as I take my finger off the tiny Orb where a trigger would normally be. I look back at the scorched wall I’d blasted – where there had used to be those chunks of metal and large rocks.
If the targets had been living men, would the Orb have been so eager to eviscerate them?
Would it have been even more eager?
Suddenly, I want to switch the topic of conversation – need to.
“So, where exactly did Brennan go?”
Lazar shrugs. “You set his senses ablaze, Natali. He had to cool off.”
Ablaze? He says I inflamed him like that? Lazar says it almost accusingly – as if it’s my fault that Brennan’s hardwired mating frenzy nearly overwhelmed him. They blame me for everything.
Lazar is oblivious to my frustration. Instead, he points far off into the distance.
“Brennan is out there. He’s widening our sensor line.” Lazar’s fingers curl around my elbow, and he urges me away from the freshly blasted wall. “Let’s keep walking, Natali.” When he senses my hesitation, Lazar murmurs: “You don’t have anything to worry about with us protecting you – and we’ve got an array of sensors that will notify us if so much as a womp sneezes ten clicks away.”
I look out towards the rubble and abandoned buildings Lazar had pointed to. Knowing that Brennan is out there should reassure me – but somehow, it makes me feel nervous. The leader of the triad doesn’t fill me with the same comfortable, certain feeling that his two battle-brothers do. I’m sure he’s a strong leader – decisive – but I feel in these circumstances Brennan is as dangerous as wildfire. I’m worried that if I step too near that fire, I’ll ignite as well – and the two of us will burn up together and turn everything around us into an inferno as well.
And yet…
…part of me aches for that – for Brennan to completely lose control, and for me to embrace his every wild instinct.
With a surge of shame, I force that thought out of my mind.
“You don’t need to worry about Brennan.”
As if reading my mind, Otho murmurs that reassurance to me. His voice is a rumble – deep and reassuring. He’s attuned to my moods – it’s almost uncanny. Otho seems to be able to sense what I’m thinking before I can even vocalize it.
Together, the three of us walk south. I’m dwarfed twice – first by the two towering warriors striding on either side of me, and then again by the giant corpses of the old factories and tower blocks. These abandoned buildings stand as the husks of industry long abandoned on Marn.
Factories that once boomed with productivity now creak in the wind of abandonment. It’s eerie.
As we walk, the only sounds I hear are the heavy boots of the two Aurelians. I wish I had boots like that. The shoes the aliens provided me with are about as practical as the dresses they’d selected. My feet are aching…
…and then, before I can even voice a complaint, Otho suddenly sits down on a big stone bench that seemingly appeared from nowhere.
It didn’t, of course. I imagine that back when these factories churned with productivity, the workmen would take their lunches on a bench like this – wolfing down sustenance in the middle of their busy shift.
Now, only their memories linger.
I sit down on the big, stone bench - right next to Otho, but keeping a bit of a respectful distance. As safe as he makes me feel, I know I can’t trust Aurelians – or, at least, I can’t trust myself around them
Not to mention, I can’t forget that these men are holding me against my will – as much as the comfort and reassurance of my captivity urges me to.
Lazar remains standing. His eyes dart from building to building. I sense that he trusts his own vision more than he’d ever trusts his sensor arrays.
As we sit there, a cool wind rushes between the empty buildings. It’s like ice as it embraces me, and I instinctively shiver. It’s as if the ghosts of the workmen who once toiled here are embracing me against my will.
Suddenly, I want to talk about something light. Being amid these abandoned, old factories is unsettling.
As if detecting my unease, Otho moves his bulk closer to me, and he wraps his massive bicep around my shoulders. It feels so right to pull myself closer to him. He’s so fucking huge, and I can’t stop myself from snuggling closer to his warm, comforting bulk.
What lighter topic of conversation could I possibly bring up? Here, of all places?
I mean, these two men are hardened warriors. They were born on Colossus – trained from infancy to fight, and kill, and conquer. Now, they’ve rushed into my life and swept me up in the whirlwind of their chaos; and a maelstrom of emotions no less devastating.
It’s as if I’m split in two. The authentic, animal side of me feels so safe next to Otho. His huge arm is wrapped around me like a heavy shawl, and I feel that nothing could possibly hurt me as long as I’m in his protection.
And yet the anxious, rational part of my mind keeps screaming at me – warning me that these two Aurelians could snap at any moment, just like Brennan almost did. Their biology may have given them a temporary reprieve from the mating rage, but it’s just that – temporary.
Sooner or later, Otho and Lazar will be tempted just like Brennan was; and who’s to say their lust can be contained?
I need a timeline. I need to know how long I’ll be expected to spend with these Aurelians. I’m their helpless captive – but they’re captive in their lust for me. Can they last a week without satisfying it? Could they even last a day?
Sooner or later, they’ll
