Chapter 3
Xorath
I got daily reports from the Fateweavers. A specialist on one of our Asian compounds was helping them through the network. He explained what we had to watch for, and gave extensive explanations. With all the information I was taking, I could also become a fertility specialist by the end of the month. Our "C" tier volunteer became much more obedient after the reprograming, doing her tasks diligently, keeping routine, and she only involved with Isadora again to approve her diet and supplementation. The processes ran smoothly.
My deal with Lyxom forced me to have little contact with the human until she was ready for breeding. I'd underestimated how much of a challenge that would be. I caught myself thinking about her more than I should have, replaying those moments in my mind. I'd had her under me three times now, and the memory of it lingered like an itch I couldn't scratch. The heat of her skin, the way her body trembled beneath mine. It was all intoxicating. A drug I could easily grow addicted to. The waiting was making me anxious, gnawing at the edges of my self-control. I told myself it was about fulfilling my duty, about achieving what our people needed. But deep down, I knew it wasn't just that.
I found myself indulging with other women. I already knew which ones had grown a taste for our people as they tumbled in the dark with my soldiers. Their softness and moisture was enjoyable, but the act missed that spark that drove me beyond the edge of reason. It was the idea of breeding them that actually gave me the craving, but as their DNA wasn't deemed suitable, they were on birth control. That simple knowledge was enough to throw my excitement off.
I'd never admit it out loud, of course. I focused on work and counted the days.
Lyxom was being insufferable in the meantime. He messaged the human every day, checking in, asking how she was, as if she needed his constant attention. He brought her presents--small, sentimental things that didn't seem like much but clearly meant everything to her. Blankets, unhealthy snacks, a music device loaded with songs she liked, and that little critter she enjoyed snuggling with. Lyxom hovered around her like some kind of overgrown beast preparing to nest, always finding reasons to linger nearby. It was sickening. Every time I saw them interact, it made my skin crawl. The way she smiled faintly and the way her posture relaxed just a little when he was there, like she was starting to trust him... It shouldn't have mattered, but it did. He was turning what should have been a straightforward task into something messy and sentimental. And worst of all? I wasn't so above it as I wanted to be. It grated on my every nerve.
Ten days through my countdown, between the stream of messages and reports, came one from Isadora.
"Do you have news about Lyxom?"
Rage boiled in my chest. She referred to him without his title like they were intimate.
"No."
"Tell me if you do?"
"What for?"
"I'm just worried about him."
"He's an expert, conducting a kind of mission he's done a thousand times before," I wrote, my fingers pounding against the immaterial keyboard. "With the best equipment and support. He will be fine."
Her reply came quickly.
"You say that, but the rate of soldiers killed in action per deployments in offensive campaigns has been rising in the past six months. Aren't you even a little worried?"
I froze for a moment, my jaw tightening. "How do you know that?"
"I read the data," she said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"How do you have access to military data?"
"Lyxom gave me access."
Of course he did. That
idiot
had handed her classified information like it was some kind of token of trust. Not only was he undermining protocol, but he was also planting seeds of concern and doubt in her mind.
"Lyxom shouldn't have given you that access," I said.
"Well, he did," she shot back, unbothered by my anger. "And it doesn't change the fact that your numbers aren't looking so great."
"Lyxom's numbers. He's the one responsible for those missions. And if you are so interested in data, you should've noticed that the ascending curve is being flattened as our tech is catching up to their new weapons."
"But flattening isn't the same as reversing," she countered, typing in a frantic rhythm. "The trend is stabilizing, sure, but that means the operational efficiency hasn't fully recovered, and the data indicates you're still underperforming against baseline projections from before these new weapons emerged."
I checked her vitals, checked visual feedback, and called her.
"Get to the war room right away, or I'll find an Ironclad to drag you."
She arrived three minutes later, looking angry and tense, instead of the scared girl I had grown used to. I gestured for her to come closer, past monitoring Ironclad busy with their own data. I closed the doors and activated the holograms I'd prepared. A cascade of graphics and charts projected between us, glowing faintly in the dim light. These visuals were two tiers above what even a senior Ironclad was allowed to access.
"What are these?"
"This is the data for the missions where Lyxom was actively leading in person."
Her gaze flicked to mine, suspicious. "And why are you letting me see this?"
"To show you the reality behind your concern for him," I replied, my tone calculated. "I thought you'd appreciate seeing exactly what kind of situations he's been in and how he handles them."
She stepped closer, her focus narrowing on the charts. "Casualty rates, resource usage, injuries" she murmured as she read the translations. "These are really low. Much lower than average."
"Exactly," I said. "Lyxom isn't reckless. He's efficient. That's why his casualty rates and resource burn are significantly below the average. He takes calculated risks and ensures that his missions succeed without unnecessary losses."
