Her Brutal Alien (Alien Overlords)

"Aren't you?”

“Yes. I suppose I am." He smiles. “You have a very diplomatic way about you, Margaret. Do you mean these flattering words, or is this how you survive a tyrant?”

“If I survive, it will be because you want me to. If I perish, it will be for the same reason. My life is in your hands.”

"More flattery,” he laughs. "Come. I want to show you something."

What he wants to show me is the roof. It is accessed by a variety of stairs, at least four flights winding about the fascinating topography of his home. Those stairs emerge onto a deck which overlooks all of the city of Megaris. I can see the korabi city, and I can also see the greater human city spread out beyond the wall. It is beautiful, and it only grows more beautiful as the day wanes and darkness creeps over the city. Lights emerge from every corner in the human portion of the city, which is so very much larger than the korabi regions, which remain in relative darkness.

“Are the people who live out there the same as the people who come from Earth? Are they like me?”

"Oh yes. Megaris is full of Marks and Margarets.”

"I hope not.”

“Human life is human life. There are a few combinations, and they repeat themselves endlessly,” Tusk says. I wonder how he knows. He does not seem particularly interested in people in general. I seem to be the exception, and only because he thinks I am responsible for terrible things.

“I hope there is happiness somewhere for some people. Lyric and Rath seem happy.”

Tusk laughs and laughs and laughs some more.

Just as he is recovering from his mirth, a bright light emanates from the very center of the city and arcs toward the massive dark shard of the palace. I watch, entranced at the beauty of the thing. This world truly is full of unimaginable wonders.

Then there is an even more intense flash which lights up the entire sky. The shard of the palace shatters into a thousand pieces, each of them discrete and quite brilliantly lit as they arc in as many different directions as pieces.

It takes entirely too long for me to recognize that I have just witnessed a brutal attack. It was not a shooting star. It was a rocket of some kind, a terrible weapon inexplicably aimed at one part of the city from another.

“Tusk?”

He has barely reacted to what seems to me to be a horrific attack having just taken place. He stands there, musing quietly for long seconds as smoke rises from what is probably the wreckage of the palace.

"Come with me,” Tusk says, crooking his finger in that way that makes my stomach do flips. “We are going to the royal bunker. They will be panicking, I imagine, and I need to be there to stop them from making a spectacularly stupid decision.”

I obey him, shocked. I have never witnessed that kind of violence before. It was so sudden and so peaceful until it wasn’t.

“That was….”

I fall silent, because I cannot describe what it was. It was so many things and Tusk knows precisely what they are. He does not need me narrating the obvious.

We drive through the streets of the city together in silence. Tusk is not the chatty type, and neither am I. I hope that things aren't as bad as they seem to be. I hope that there's no loss of life. I hope that this doesn’t somehow turn out to be my fault in some strange twist of fate.

Tusk

I knew it was only a matter of time before Krush did something stupid. His brash young ego would never allow him to simply occupy the city while Rath sat on the throne. Every day Rath occupied that seat was another day the bitterness corroded Krush's good sense, limited as it always was. The young king deserves a thorough whipping for this latest travesty. It will not go unpunished; of that I am certain.

The damage to the palace seems to be mostly external and probably cosmetic. It was not built to be destroyed by one tantruming idiot with a scum missile.

I want to get Margaret into the bunker in case more missiles come and are aimed at the korabi city. I would hope Krush has the sense not to attack his own people, but he did just attack his own palace, so who knows what he is capable of. Korabi males are known to become more aggressive when their mates are bearing their young; it is a hormonal sort of madness which drives them to eliminate any potential threats to the offspring. Rath should have anticipated this, but Rath never seems to anticipate anything.

“INTO THE BUNKERS!” I shout orders to the soldiers and nobles skittering about the place in general panic. It has been all too long since the palace has seen any real conflict. The korabi who inhabit it now are soft and unaccustomed to adversity. They think going down into the city and occasionally bullying humans counts as combat.