Star Forged: The Gifting Series, #5

By Sevannah Storm

The Gifting Series #5

Macy is feeling a little left out, as usual. Who would have thought moving from one planet to another wouldn't change that loneliness? She is never alone these days since Etterians guard human women with an urgency she understands. But the lack of companionship is like a dark aching abyss inside her chest. On some days, it threatens to implode, and Macy Mitchell would cease to exist. Looming is her impending meeting with King Xeus of Etteria. How is she supposed to keep her shit together when presented to royalty? Not after she ran from the last king she met.

For Xeus, the void expands daily. Duty, honor, concern for his dying people, and endless loneliness fill his life. Having decided to search for pairings among other worlds, he is pleased his son found his soulmate among human women. It doesn't mean that Xeus's loneliness and longing haven't ended until he stumbles upon a crying female. Meaning only to soothe, he is spellbound when her presence brings him peace. Unable to resist, he forms an attachment to a female he can never have.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sevannah Storm
• Release date: Dec 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215048672

Book preview

Chapter One

Planet Etteria

The Royal Court at Issneen

12252 Years

Xeus swung his greatsword, colliding with his opponent’s, setting off a shower of sparks as Maloidian steel met. With their blades locked, he lunged forward, grunting as he drew on his strength, his muscles shaking. Sweat beaded on his lip, but he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. The magnus sun burned his bare shoulders, his braid stirred up dust, and his heels dug into the gray sand. Exhaustion pounded his thoughts and determination. This male was his sixth challenger, and as king, Xeus had to be the best.

So tired. Quit. Let him win.

He dared not cast a glance at the great teacher, or lima kuu, on sparring master duty today. The temptation to beg for relief was great, more so of his stupidity in accepting another challenge from a male so young.

The only one to save Xeus was himself.

He ducked and spun to the right of the male, who stumbled. Xeus brought an elbow back to strike across the male’s exposed back, splaying him into the sand.

And match, Lima Brac called, ending the challenge.

Thundering broke across the crowd as his males stomped their appreciation, their heavy boots raising dust clouds.

Xeus raised his chin and gazed at the expansive skies of Etteria as he drew in gulps of air. His limbs twinged and trembled. He clasped the forearm of his opponent—a young warrior fresh from his four-year service on Gikaet. Xeus curled his lip and scanned the proving grounds. Did his males fear him? Fewer and fewer were willing to spar with him, leaving the inexperienced and still emotional youngins to chance it.

He squared his shoulders, tucked his greatsword under his arm, and cut a wide berth through the males gathered. All pressed their fists over their hearts in a sign of respect. He strode to where Cales, his closest battle-bond, waited. With shaking knees, Xeus climbed the hill, refusing to show an ounce of weakness. He couldn’t as king.

Impressive. Cales grinned and held out his palm, asking for the sword.

Xeus moaned. Is it just me, or are we training them better? He handed over his sword and accepted the towel, dabbing his flushed cheeks.

Six battles, Xeus, would tire anyone.

Xeus snorted. I doubt Remi knows the meaning of exhausted. Six, ten, fifteen battles wouldn’t be an acceptable excuse to Base Commander Remi—the respected male who trained the youngins on Gikaet. Gesturing to the proving grounds, he arched a brow at Cales.

Not today. I shall test my mettle tomorrow, perhaps even best the Great King Xeus.

At Cales’s wide smile, Xeus chuckled. You have yet to, so perhaps tomorrow the Maker will bless your strength, footwork, or senses.

Cales fell into step beside him as he headed for his office. And may the Maker bless your ability to keep your friends.

Xeus weaved along the intricate paths of his beloved gardens, pausing to gather a hahyt blossom into his palm for a deep inhale. The sweet scent triggered memories of his damu days when the weight of Etteria didn’t rest on his shoulders. My friends would accept my challenge to spar. He snuck a glance. Intimidated? Is it my impressive physique? The length of my honor? The—

Size of your ego? Cales grinned.

Tell me, Cales, why are fewer willing to challenge me?

Cales stilled. Truth?

Truth?! Xeus faced him. When have you not told the truth? And besides, we are Etterian. We do not deceive.

Very well. Your strikes have been almost lethal.

Xeus frowned. So?

So, they do not wish to perish on proving ground soil. There is no honor in that.

Xeus flicked a dismissive hand. I would not kill my males while sparring.

They do not know this, my battle-bond, and your visage is terrifying to behold.

Xeus scowled. They cannot fear me, Cales. What weak warriors is Remi training if they are frightened to face me?

Cale smiled. Prudent ones?

Then you shall sacrifice your time and energy as my permanent opponent. Xeus strode off, done with this conversation.

I— The clang of the sword striking the gray gravel on the path preceded Cales tackling Xeus from behind, taking him to the ground.

He locked his elbows, not willing to smash his face across the coarse stones. Cales looped his arm under Xeus’s and cupped the back of his neck. With the weight of the male pinning Xeus, he struggled to rise. Instead, he pushed off and flipped them, landing on top of Cales. His battle-bond grunted, but wrapped his legs around Xeus’s waist, closed his arm across Xeus’s throat, and squeezed.

Xeus grinned and brought his elbow back into Cales’s stomach. Despite the grunt, Cales’s grip across Xeus’s throat didn’t loosen. With each strike or fumble for freedom, Cales held on until spots circled Xeus’s vision. When he tapped Cales’s forearm asking for release, air flooded his lungs while his friend rolled away.

He lay there, panting, his lungs burning. Strike when your opponent is distracted, he huffed.

That I do not spar with you does not mean I neglect my training, Xeus. Cales rose and offered Xeus his hand.

Accepting it, he allowed his friend to hoist him to his feet. I know this, but I do not like that my males fear me or grant me the win. This does not improve my skills.

Agreed. Cales closed the distance between them and rested his palm on Xeus’s chest. Then from tomorrow, we shall show these youngins how to battle like honed warriors.

Xeus pressed his palm on Cales’s chest, just below his collarbone. Gray dust coated his white tunic and his braid. I shall hold you to that, my battle-bond. He chuckled, scooped up his sword, and gestured to the throne room. Come, let us begin this day. There is much to be done before my announcement.

He stomped to his office, reminded of what awaited him. Under the water’s spray in the cleansing room, he corralled his thoughts to now, this moment, not wanting to dread the upcoming gathering. The decision was made, yet, despite the peace in his soul regarding it, he anticipated much disapproval and arguing from his ambassadors.

Raising his palms above his head, he splayed them on the white wall, dipping his head under the spray. In this, he would tolerate none of their opinions.

He stood under the air-dryer, his hair whipping around him, revealing his agitation. Grabbing the clip, he whispered, Malia pa, and waited for his hair to braid itself before he caught the end and snapped the clip in place.

After tugging on his armor, he hovered his hand above his dark-blue-and-gold cloak—the colors of his bloodline. Gritting his teeth, he flicked it on and allowed the magnetic clasp to connect at the base of his throat. He could dress like the ambassadors in loose pants and tunics in their colors, but he was a warrior at heart, and donning the armor reminded all that Etteria was a battle-ready nation. Cales wore both, depending on his tasks for the day. Xeus did not have that luxury. He had to be consistent, always displaying what his people expected.

As he strode from the cleansing room, Cales held out a glass of giyua juice—the sharp scent making Xeus’s mouth salivate. He downed the refreshing liquid then squared his shoulders and marched into his throne room.

Standing center of the dais, he delivered his announcement. Etteria was dying. Couldn’t they see that? Why did everything have to be a discussion? He gritted his teeth, narrowing his gaze on the ‘troublemakers.’ Finding a compatible species for his males was paramount. They needed mates. Etteria needed females birthing females. Even as he dismissed the naysayers, his gaze strayed to his son, Enyl, standing to the side. His matching eye color of dark blue had made this decision easier for Xeus, for his son’s future. No matter what happened, he would hold to that.

~*~

Xeus admired Arazyl, a former lover and the mother to Enyl. Still supple in form, her cheeks glowed with happiness, her dark blue eyes sparkling. The thick braid down her back announced her honor, something he had experienced first-hand. Despite her suitability and the genuine bond between her and Xeus, he had to let her go. When they’d parted, he’d wished her happiness, and she had done well for herself. A glance at her lover, Droal, had Xeus nodding. Yes, she had chosen well. His thick braid brushed his heels, and as far back as Xeus could recall, Cales had never cut it in punishment.

Droal was an honorable male, blessing Arazyl with many sons and one daughter. That was such a gift from the Maker. But Etteria needed more females to save them. His thoughts lingered on the announcement he’d made earlier, to search the known worlds for candidates, no matter the species. If they drew forth the Ethera, their ancient mating bond, then that too would be a blessing. But he’d value any females who birthed more females to bolster their diminishing numbers. He sipped his giyua juice, sparing his half-eaten kreso a dismissive glance.

Food had lost its appeal, along with the day-to-day life as king of Etteria. He longed for peace or a battle worthy of his skill, yet debates, trade agreements, and the impending war with Yithia consumed his time. He yearned for the joy of a youngin when the void didn’t press so hard on his control, when his life loomed with possibilities. Now he couldn’t spare the time to travel to Gikaet for a battle rush, and any emotion he experienced brought the darkness closer. It blurred the edges of his soul, bleeding the light from within.

He’d bid Enyl farewell, sharing his son’s need to find peace in exertion, in conquering a known enemy. But as king, Xeus’s life remained here, enduring endless politics, having every decision judged. He would remain firm on this one, though, needing to find suitable candidates for Enyl, Cales, and his males.

You are quiet, Arazyl said with a sweet smile.

Xeus grunted, acknowledging that she’d always had the ability to sense his moods. It has been a trying day.

He wasn’t willing to discuss the state of his soul with her. She need not concern herself when her future belonged with Droal, as was right. She did look beautiful in her silver and green ceremonial gown. Her thick black braid rested over one breast, and her dark blue eyes glowed with contentment. Had she found her Eth in Droal, having experienced the Ethera, her eyes would’ve been the lovely pale blue as at her birth. Droal’s too.

Yes, Xeus had made the right decision. Doing so would save their females from a life of chasing daughters. To move from male to male, despite her feelings, until birthing a daughter didn’t encourage a healthy society. Many males matured without their mothers influencing them. No matter how much honoring females and those weaker was drilled in during a male’s service on Gikaet, the way females now behaved had the males believing females chose to spread their thighs for tokens, treasures, or pleasure. That some females did so, found solace in things as their souls faded, lay heavy on Xeus’s shoulders. But some, like Arazyl, remembered why they chased birthing daughters.

Xeus frowned, wondering what they taught females from age four. Males received extensive training in all aspects of Etterian life, from weapon mastery to security, to data analysis, even to farming kreso. His stomach gurgled as he glanced at his plate. It was hard to imagine such hardy beasts remained a staple of Etterian diets.

Greetings Lady Arazyl, Lord Droal, Advisor Cales said, entering Xeus’s chambers unannounced.

Cales, what a lovely surprise. Arazyl offered a small smile, careful not to seem too pleased to see him. She rose to her feet and held out her hand to Droal. It is time we took leave. I do believe Cales has many things requiring your attention, my king.

Thank you for the meal, King Xeus. Droal clasped Arazyl’s hand before escorting her from Xeus’s chambers.

My thanks, Xeus said to Cales, downing his juice before slamming his cup onto the table. Did you have something specific I need to attend to?

Yes, Cales said, approaching the display vid on the side wall. He moved the magnetic-based chairs to the side before pulling two Maloidian swords off the adjacent wall. I suspect your skills are somewhat lacking, he teased, tossing a sword at Xeus.

He chuckled, and despite his twinging muscles, snatched the sword out of the air before swinging it with practiced ease. The familiar weight tightened his grip, and the rush of a challenge fired along his veins. For a fleeting moment, joy sparked to life in his chest. Then with a battle roar as old as time, he leaped in the air, bringing the blade down.

Page  of 194

Chapter Two

Planet Earth

Jobless

Year of 2252, April – May

Macera gaped at her ex-boss like a fish out of water, her disbelief a parody of a horror vid in the mirror behind his bald head. The idiot squirmed in his seat as if she gave a damn he was uncomfortable performing this task.

What do you mean you’re letting me go? She worked, past tense, at the curio shop in the casino’s lobby. It wasn’t much of a job, but at least it kept her fed and a roof over her head. What am I supposed to do now? She slammed her palms on his desk.

He jumped, his face paling, but she kept his gaze, flipping her mass of brown curls out of her eyes to do so.

We will rehire you back once the revamp is complete...I think.

Her eyes widened. You think? No work for, what, six months? Maybe even a year? She yanked her access card off her pocket, tearing the fabric, before slapping the card down on his desk, startling the little twerp again. She snatched the severance pay out of his hands then glared at him, resting her hands on her wide hips. This had better be decent or so help me. She stormed out of his office, ignoring the curious and nervous glances thrown at her. The jungle sounds peppered with lion roars fired her blood en route to the parking lot. The bastard.

She slid into the car she’d inherited from her grandmother. It was so old, the rust held the car together, nor was a S.A.D.I, Standard Automated Driving Intelligence, compatible with the car’s antiquated software. Despite it being solar-powered, it ran on prayer and violent cursing. She banged the door a few times until it stayed shut, only to sit there stunned with her hands gripping and releasing the bus-sized steering wheel.

What am I going to do?

The salary had barely covered her expenses. Her savings were non-existent. She owed the funeral parlor for Gran’s burial, and there were outstanding bills for the house, such as it was. Old, dilapidated, a double story in a shady neighborhood, selling it would get her nothing. Not that she wanted to either. She had to live somewhere, and the house was cheaper than renting another place.

Biting her lip, she relished the sting, praying it held back the tears. The moment she let them loose, she’d cry for days, like she had after Gran’s death. The car started at the second attempt, and she drove to a brown nondescript building in the same shady neighborhood, not too far from her home.

She needed music and an alcoholic beverage that promised to make her forget her woes for the evening. Not that she could afford to waste her tokens on booze. She parked her car in front of the building’s entrance, not concerned with the possibility of an opportunistic yet blind individual stealing it. No one would touch it.

She slammed the door and leaned on it. At least the previous paints on her car were harmonic, which shone blue, green, and the final coat of white through the rust. She locked the door. The car had no S.A.D.I, no alarm system, no special anti-theft mechanism inserted through the steering wheel, nothing to deter would-be thieves. They simply weren’t interested in it. Their loss, she chuckled, bouncing on her heels, excited about drowning her sorrows in illegal music and whatever drinks were the cheapest.

The weathered steel door had once been painted red. Now it showed as much character as her car. With a glance from side-to-side, she yanked the door open and skipped down the steps into the bowels of the building. The deeper she ventured, the more the bass of the music vibrated up her soles. The stench of smoke, sex, and stale perfume carried a welcoming sweetness. She burst into the room and smiled. They were playing the classics, the ones she loved. There was talk of the powers-that-be eradicating the ban on vids, music, and online games. She hoped they decided soon. It had been centuries since the vid that had triggered epilepsy in over a hundred-thousand teenage girls, killing them. Something about girls of a certain age being more susceptible to seizures. Gran had tried to explain, but it had gone over Macy’s head. Now all restaurants, casinos, and radios played were ambiances, hence the lions at the casino. Studies had shown that the rumble and cries of predators triggered a flight or fight response so people gambled more recklessly.

People, of course, had taken the industries underground, and often, a newish song would make the popularity rounds. Until the Media Police shut them down and sent them to Mars’ penal colony. She shuddered at the idea of never dancing or singing again. Music fired her soul, empowered her to lose a few moments in joyful dance, where the state of her life and bank account didn’t matter.

She chose a table, not in the back and not too close to the bar. It tended to get disruptive near the bar, and the booths enshrouded in darkness promised an unpleasant experience if she sat there. She was in no mood to deal with the undesirables who would accost her. A plain girl like her needed all the loving she could get or some such nonsense.

No, she did not.

I’m surprised to see you at this time of the day, one of the regular waiters said.

She ordered her usual house white wine and added a shot of tequila—a special request just for today.

Bad day, huh? the waiter asked, and it wasn’t due to an interest in her. The place was quiet with business having yet to pick up. So the poor dear was fending off boredom by forcing unpalatable conversation onto a depressed woman.

You could say that, she said, taking pity on the guy. She swiped her wrist across the paypoint embedded in the table. As soon as that’s up, chase me home, she said before downing the tequila, sans lemon and salt. Since she was a regular, she could trust him. Not that she had ever asked his name. Nor had he offered it, for that matter. And keep it coming, please. She gulped her wine, letting it join the fire in her belly—from anger and blessed tequila.

By the third glass of wine, she was nearing intoxication—the kind where she didn’t care anymore. The kind she needed. She belted out choruses of songs she recognized, putting far more energy into the singing than she had in her previous job.

Yup, that was about the crux of it. She’d probably been let go since she hadn’t proven herself and was redundant. Some guy tried to charm her, but she glared him into silence. She didn’t have the energy to deal with a desperate man and his issues. She belted out another chorus and chuckled, now sipping the wine in front of her to have something to do.

I like the way you sing, a man said, his voice not oily or insincere.

His honesty broke through her walls. She raised a wide-eyed gaze to meet his. He stood, taller than she’d expected, in some sort of expensive suit—charcoal gray if she wasn’t mistaken. Not that she was a connoisseur of fine suits, just of broad shoulders.

Thank you, I think. She flashed him a wobbly smile since her lips had entered Numbville.

He glanced at the wine in front of her and the empty tequila glass her waiter had yet to remove. Bad day?

Yup, lost my job. She shrugged as if her imminent starvation wasn’t important. Not that she would reveal that. She widened her smile, trusting her numb lips to convey some sort of friendliness. But when the song playing neared its chorus, she held up a finger, asking him to wait, then belted out the lyrics as if her last moments on this forsaken planet counted on her level of enthusiasm. That felt good. She smirked, lifted the glass to her lips, and frowned at it taking a few tries.

Why don’t you sing for us? He gestured to the stage.

Her eyebrows arched, and she laughed. Sure, I will. You have a band playing all the time. Why the hell didn’t I think of that? She rolled her eyes then gripped the table as his face tilted. Best not to do that again. Listen, dude, your stage is never used.

You can sing to the music playing on the speakers. He dropped into a chair, uninvited. I’ll pay you for every night you perform.

Are you serious? She blinked at his blurred image, trying to assess his sincerity when she couldn’t see his eye color.

You can start tonight, as a trial, since you’re here.

But I’m...drunk. She hiccupped for added emphasis.

You have just over an hour to sober. That’s when the crowds start to arrive. He jumped up and held out his hand. She accepted it for a firm shake. Ask the barkeeper for the mic. I look forward to hearing you perform,...?

It took a while before she realized he waited for her to supply her name. Macera Mitchell. She flashed him what she hoped was a bright smile.

Dave, the barkeeper, may also have discarded dresses in the back if you want to shine tonight. He glanced down at her black trousers and boring, button-up white blouse with the torn pocket.

Thank you, again. She watched him walk away, unable to contain her hope, her breathing erratic, her heart pounding. She gestured to the waiter and ordered coffee, hoping it would sober her as well as calm her nerves when she’d never sung in front of a crowd.

But she couldn’t back down now. Music and singing were illegal, therein lay the attraction. That the Media Police might raid the club added a zing to her blood, bolstering her voice. She couldn't abandon the thrill for fear of capture.

Besides, she needed to eat.

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Chapter Three

Planet Etteria

The Royal City of Issneen

The Royal Court

Months later

Xeus moved around his office like a caged sogair—prowling, intense, ruthless. That he hadn’t seen a sogair in years, with its dark red coat, sharp fangs, excellent vision, and hearing, didn’t, in any way, affect his ability to prowl like one. He couldn’t spare a smile if a life depended on it. Something troubled him, and he wasn’t dealing well with it. Enyl escorted the first compatible female from another species. This was the only species so far to trigger the Ethera and as such was Etteria’s salvation. This could be disastrous or life-changing.

He had sensed Cales hovering behind him during the interaction. He had done so all day, soothing ruffled feathers as well as steering Xeus clear of oversensitive ambassadors. Xeus grunted, recognizing that Cales interceded more and more of late. He drew in a deep breath and glanced through his transparent walls to the vacant court.

The beauty of it was lost on him. The high vaulted ceilings were painted with poignant images. The dark blue and gold tapestries contrasted boldly against a white polished stone floor. His thoughts remained on what he knew of Earth and its inhabitants. More importantly, what he’d seen of this alien female.

She’d shown incredible skill, utilizing a fighting style they themselves employed. They called it Hatimaye, and he had believed it was unknown to all but Etteria. Was her species a warrior race to such an extent that the females also trained? What kind of males would endanger such treasures?

Regardless of how impressed he’d been, not only by her actions but her unusual coloring, he had to remain calm, strong, and confident. None of which he was managing. He glanced around his office and lingered on his white Fuyra desk. What it stood for, the generations of kings before him, the expectations of his ancestors, his people, and Etteria’s future pressed on his shoulders until the thought of taking a step sucked the life from him.

He had just met his new daughter, Oriana, and he wondered, not for the last time, what she saw when she looked upon the Etterian species. They all had bronzed skin and long black hair that was fish-tail braided to their bootheels, honor willing. To lose honor was to lose a foot of their hair—a visual representation of one’s failure. Their features were bold, dominant, their eyes dark blue unless the Ethera occurred between pairings. But those were rare. He couldn’t recall the last pairing or gazing into adult ice blue eyes until today.

Centuries before, a civil war had broken out among them, and many lives were lost. Their king, Pius, Xeus’s ancestor, approached the wise Durn for guidance. The Great Durn had devised Etteria’s current approach—the extensive training, the development of a passionate people into a warrior race now feared and respected. The Durns modified Etterian genetics, and thus, the Ethera was born. He suspected that the Durn, revered for their higher intelligence and their statistical focus, hadn’t anticipated the decline of the Etterian female birth rate. Now their males faced the void, unable to find contentment in meaningless liaisons, to end their lives in battle just to avoid the darkness consuming their souls.

Xeus was such a male.

When the herald had announced the entrance of Enyl and his princess, Oriana, this had stunned Xeus. Princess? He’d thought Enyl had selected a female to claim without the Ethera blessing the pairing. Such was an irresponsible, dangerous risk, and his son must’ve done so for a reason, one Xeus had soon learned had nothing to do with choice and more to do with the Maker’s blessing.

His son had a Dar Eth.

And now Xeus had a daughter. A beautiful creature with ocean-red hair and bright green eyes, the same vivid green of their Ferusi gems. She was tiny in comparison to Etterian females, but she scented like delicious fruit. And there lay the crux of the matter.

He’d found his daughter appealing.

Her scent, softness, incredible beauty, and her inner strength made her a great find.

Maker!

He scowled, the rage building deep within him as his arousal throbbed. This was unacceptable and dishonorable. And he wasn’t the only male who suffered so. He needed to bring these human females to Etteria. But how? Any decision he took could affect the survivability of Earth, long-term, as in hundreds of years into the future. He understood what his ancestors must’ve gone through before the decision to modify their race. He didn’t want to harm Earth, but he needed to save Etteria.

Alodon’s balls, Xeus. She is exquisite. Cales marched into Xeus’s office. "I’ve never...felt like this."

Yes, therein lies the dilemma. We need to find human females with extreme urgency. I cannot have our males testing the strength of the Ethera between Enyl and Oriana.

Yes... The urge is there. Cales sank into a comfy chair, resting his elbows on his bent knees. "Even her voice made me feel. I wonder what our ancestors would say if they saw how we react to such a creature."

Xeus grunted. Cales had the right of it. He did feel and the darkness in his soul pulsed with hungry eagerness. Our males might fight the temptation to kidnap a female for themselves. We are not savages nor slavers.

Agreed, the temptation is great. Cales frowned. Also, it could be a female and not a species thing. Perhaps the Ethera has chosen this specific female. We would need to discover whether other human females spark the Ethera in our males.

Yes, but how, Cales? That is what I am struggling with. Xeus paced, the white walls of his office pressing in. If we approach mid-grade Earth in an ambassadorial role, we violate the Global Council. We cannot stoop to kidnapping either.

And yet Yithia has no such qualms, Cales grumbled. "Perhaps we could allow a few Yithian slave ships to kidnap females then rescue them?"

That seems like the only option at this point. Xeus clenched and unfurled his fingers. Though, to endanger females does not sit well with me, Cales.

Neither with me. We can only do what we can, Xeus. Protect the planet and rescue kidnapped females.

True. To stand by and do nothing to prevent their harm is as dishonorable. And he would throw the full might of Etteria in this task. Guard earth with a battalion of battleships and have Malo’s operatives infiltrate and monitor human bases between Etteria and Earth.

Perhaps we need to approach this as if it were a battle? A multi-faceted strategy? Cales said, now deep in thought.

Continue. Xeus gestured that he was listening despite pacing the stifling confines of his office.

Have you heard the buzz about sex-cybs? Cales’s words were so off-topic that Xeus shook his head. They are cyborgs developed to bring pleasure.

Xeus jerked to a halt. Cyborgs? As in mechanical creatures?

Yes. As you know, we relieve the tension once a day and view it as a chore. It is safe to do so since our hands do not summon the void. Would the cyborg not perform the same function?

Release into an inanimate object? Xeus shuddered at the thought of it.

An object that is the shape of a human female, or so I am told.

Xeus blinked at Cales. Truth?

They have a sex center in the backwaters of space for...weary travelers. Cales punched into his O.D.I. and projected the location onto the extended display vid.

Xeus strode toward it, mesmerized.

It is in Earth’s system. Trust these humans to invent such an object, Xeus said, even though his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

An image of a sex-cyb appeared. They groaned. Her appearance was that of a human female with flowing hair the color of sunlight and pale green-brown eyes. Her body was perfect with large breasts that looked incredibly soft, a cinched-in waist, wide flaring hips, and long legs easily discernible in the small garment she wore.

Do you think they could spark the Ethera? Xeus asked, his voice a little too hoarse as he adjusted his armored pants around his arousal.

I suspect only biological females are able to. Cales shrugged. Hence why we should send a delegate.

"Do so. Choose a few volunteers sensing the void and have them test out whether releasing into...that brings the void closer."

Done. Cales punched into his O.D.I.

It is a pity we couldn’t have them here. Xeus ran a lone finger down the display vid, tracing the curve of