Starship Desolation by Tripp Ellis Page B

was one trip to the wilderness that wasn’t going to end.
    Walker planned on getting an early start in the morning to look for a more suitable, long-term shelter. He wrapped Bailey up in a blanket, and the two settled in for some shut-eye. Walker used his pack as a makeshift pillow. The amber flames flickered and popped and threw off a nice amount of heat. The alcove in the rocks seem to hold in the warmth rather well. All in all, it wasn’t a bad place to camp for the evening.
    By the middle of the night, the fire had died down. Only a few glowing coals and ash remained. And the temperature had dropped considerably. But that wasn’t the worst of their problems.
    There was a howling in the distance. The discordant sound drew closer.
    In the darkness, Walker could hear heavy footsteps and deep rumbling breaths. He peeled his eyelids open and stared out into the night. Staring back at him were three pairs of fierce eyes, reflecting the glow of the smoldering embers of the fire. The eyes stood maybe three feet above the ground. They weren’t human. Throaty snarls filled the air. The eyes drew closer. These were the eyes of a predator. No doubt about it.

15

The Verge
    “ T his agreement is unacceptable to us.” The Decluvian Ambassador crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. His face was stern. Ugly. But stern.
    The Decluvian’s had evolved from an amphibian species. They had brightly colored skin with black spots. The ambassador’s predominant color was orange, but some were blue, others were yellow, some were green, and some displayed multiple colors.
    Large, protruding eyes gave them almost 360 degree vision. They had long, slender fingers—three on each hand, and an opposable thumb. There was slight webbing in between the digits. The tips of their fingers could adhere to almost anything. They preferred hot and humid climates with lots of water. And water was something the Decluvians were running out of.
    They were an aposematic species—their skin was toxic. And they could also secrete the toxin through sweat when threatened. Touching a Decluvian could be a deadly proposition. The poison easily permeated through Saarkturian and human skin. Almost instantaneous paralysis and loss of autonomic function would result.
    They didn’t really have tentacles—that was the stuff of urban legend and contemptuous jokes. But there were plenty of other species out in the cosmos that did have tentacles.
    The two men sat at a table in a conference room within the palace. The Ambassador had two personal guards with him. Rylon attended the meeting without guards—though they weren’t far away.
    “We’ve conceded the Thelovian sector,” Rylon said. “I’ve offered the Kophosis realm, which has more water than you could use in a hundred lifetimes. Plus the promise of lasting peace between our great civilizations.”
    “Saarkturia must become a Decluvian colony and swear allegiance to Emperor Tyvelon,” said Ambassador Borgnavi.
    Rylan gritted his teeth and smiled. Borgnavi was full of himself. There was no way a Saarkturian would ever bow down to a Decluvian. And, apparently, they felt the same way.
    “What I’m offering is a peaceful coexistence, and a shared throne. With a Decluvian Queen on a Saarkturian throne, you are guaranteed a voice and a legacy in the monarchy.”
    Borgnavi kept his stern look.
    “Allegiance to the Emperor.”
    Rylon sighed. “I have made a good faith gesture with Thelovian. Keep it. The sector is yours. When you wish to resume these negotiations, in good faith, let me know.” He smiled and stood up from the table.
    Borgnavi looked flustered. “I have traveled a great distance to negotiate, and you walk out?”
    “I didn’t see any negotiating on your part. I only heard demands.”
    Borgnavi scowled at him.
    The Decluvians weren’t the best negotiators in the galaxy, and they wore their emotions on their sleeves. But they knew enough to ask for more than they wanted. And Rylon knew