Alright, alright, this is my first sci-fi, so settle down. Also, this is co-written by my amazing sempai, Poindexter. Go check out her works! They are much better than mine ;) Really, she’s an incredible author. Anyways~ I hope you enjoy this, I have high hopes for this story ;) Especially since it involves reader input, much more fun, no? Gah! I can’t contain my excitement, go onto the story! :D
Without further adieu,
Read, Enjoy, and Comment/Vote/Fan!
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The Stolen Hunter
Chapter One: Ssor Halcyon
“Keep it movin’, keep it movin’.” The Dycorian says, the translator in my ear roughly translating it from Dycos to English. The putrid stink wafting off of his rolls of green fat is the only thing that’s making me keep my mouth shut. Imagine green turd, with a face, and the body of a truck-driver with a beer-gut. That image is what most Dycorians look like, yes, even the women. In fact, they’re even uglier. And don’t forget the smell: gym-sock wrapped sardines left to ‘marinate’ in a stuffy box for a good few decades would be close.
I check the bindings on my wrists, think handlebars twisted into a bow-tie knot. It’s doing a pretty good job of keeping my hands trapped and circulation from flowing.
We get to the door at the end of the corridor and it slides open with a hiss after the Dycorian inputs a code. I walk forward as he presses the barrel of his Ven-Iro 550 phaser to my back.
I observe the room as we walk in: metal walls, rolled out white-fur rugs, and a throne-like chair smack-dab in the middle of the room. I feel my blood run cold as I recognize the rugs to be Jygarian.
“You may leave, Gdogar.” A voice says from the corner of the room. If icebergs had voices, then for sure, they had to be like this man’s voice. Though, my translator doesn’t need to translate, I can understand him perfectly fine without assistance.
“A’right, a’right.” The Dycorian, Gdogar, rumbles, sludging back through the doors and leaving me alone with the iceberg-voiced man. I resist breathing a sigh of relief to have fresh air back because I know that the person I’m currently in the same room with is more dangerous than any Dycorian with a Ven-Iro 550…
I turn slowly, being met with the sight of a man probably in his early-to-mid twenties in Earth standards. He has snow-white hair and chips of ice for eyes, his skin is surprisingly very tan. Running down from the right side of his forehead is a trail of glowing frost, a glittering snowflake-shaped mark on his cheek with a smaller one, before it tapers off and the trail of frost slides down to the edge of his jaw, continuing down his throat and chest, another two snowflakes over his heart, going further down but the waistband of the pants he’s wearing blocks my view. He’s wearing an open-vested white jacket with fur, blue leather pants, and boots finishing his look.
“Jygarian…” I growl, my anger getting the better of me. But there’s something wrong with him… His eyes, Jygarians are all cold and cold-colored, but his skin and eyes… His eyes are gold.
“Wrong.” He says, and there isn’t the customary cold vapor coming out of his mouth as most Jygarians have when they talk. “Half, my mother was a Minoan. I’m a child of two worlds.” He answers, golden eyes glowing.
A part of me settles at this, but I just can’t get over his appearance, it’s just like a Jygarian’s and it’s driving me crazy.
I twist my hands, trying to get my hands on the ‘knot’ of the metal. “Why am I here?” I question lowly.
YOU ARE READING
The Stolen Hunter
Science FictionLure was just your average for-hire researcher under the employment of the I.F.A (Intergalactic Federation of Allies)... not. And once the I.F.A accidentally digs up his file they jump and send their brightest team to go rescue the [just recently] k...
