Fated Mates of the Drakoan

He stared down at a list of names, the information in front of him overwhelming. Name after name stared back at him, along with country of origin, popularity, pronunciation, spelling variants, and so much more. He nearly growled with frustration.

You just need to pick one.

It felt weird, just picking a name like this. He’d been putting this off, just going by “commander” when talking with the human ships, but that wasn’t exactly a long-term solution. He had to pick a name if he wanted to interact with humans with any regularity. They didn’t have the oral capacity to pronounce many Drakonian names, and from what he could tell, it was a time-honored tradition for foreigners on Earth to pick local names. And he supposed it was easier to learn to identify with a name people could pronounce than to wince every time people butchered your birth name.

With resignation, he scrolled down with his eyes closed and tapped his finger on the screen, then peeked one eye open.

Davin.

“I guess I’m Davin now.” He sighed and switched screens on his monitor, returning to the impetus that had finally forced him to pick a name—the situation with Earth. His fleet and the remainder of the human military ships surrounding the planet had been trying to contact Earth command for days now, too many days, and they were growing concerned.

No, that wasn’t true. They had long passed the point of “concerned.” No one said it, but he could see the panic rising in the eyes of the captains of the other ships when they had their conference calls. Everyone was worried. No one knew what was going on down there.

As he continued reviewing what little information they had, he tried to reassure himself that everything was probably fine. From what they could tell, those last bombs, the ones that had turned the tides of the conflict, had also deactivated or destroyed every satellite in orbit. He could communicate with the other ships, but his records indicated that a massive amount of the Earth’s communication systems relied on that satellite network that was now defunct.

His comm buzzed, startling him and jerked his mind away from his concerns for the people of Earth. “Damn it,” he said, copying a common Earth phrase he’d learned while watching their media back home. He’d grown up with it. The streaming services had set up shop on Koa for the human colony there, but it had quickly become quite popular among the Drakoans as well.

Davin looked down at his bracer, internally groaning when his sister’s name scrolled across the screen. He tapped answer, and the bracer interfaced with his desk, putting the video up on the monitor. She smiled at him in that enigmatic way she had, and he knew something was up.

He sighed. “What did you do?”

She clutched her chest, pretending to be offended. Light glinted off pale red scales she’d clearly spent a sizable portion of the day polishing and primping to perfection. “Me? I can’t believe you’d say such a thing.”

Davin didn’t speak, instead crossing his arms and waiting for the inevitable confession. He was reminded of why he spent so much time away from home. His family was chaos incarnate and joining the military had been the only way to get a little peace in his life.

Of course, chaos could never let peace reign for long, and today was no different.

Eventually, she gave up the pretense. “It wasn’t me.” She looked away from the camera, her gaze roving around the room, and he just knew she was trying to come up with some excuse that would shift the blame away from one of her nightmarish kids. Because why else would she be calling? It certainly wasn’t to talk to him. “My son was playing in your room earlier today.”

Davin’s entire body went tense, and he saw red. “My room is off limits. You know that.” It took everything in him to keep still. He wanted to yell, to pace, but a fit of anger wouldn’t solve anything, especially not with his family.

“Oh, you know kids. Can’t keep them out of anything,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal.

Yeah, especially when you unlock the door for the little monsters.

He could just see it now. His nephew had probably been whining and generally being a pain, and instead of actually parenting him, she’d bribed him with exploring the forbidden, aka his uncle’s locked room. “What happened?”

She held up an action figure that was currently missing an arm. “It was an accident.”

Davin ground his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to regain control.

Anger doesn’t solve anything. Besides, you can’t strangle her over a comm.

He opened them again and forced words out through gritted teeth. “That… was a Star Wars Limited Edition. I bought it when I was ten.” It was one of his most prized possessions. Growing up, he’d been obsessed with Star Wars. There had been other “Science Fiction” shows and movies to watch, but many had steered a little too close to the familiar, a little too close to home. But Star Wars? Star Wars was different. It involved special powers and the ultimate fight of good vs. evil. For a little boy, the idea of playing around with a light sword and moving things with your mind? Pure magic.

As he’d grown older, he’d started collecting. It was hard coming by these things, partially because he lived on another planet and partially because Star Wars was a very old franchise and thus a fairly niche one. Not everyone had even heard of it, and that made wanting to collect all things Star Wars even more important to him. He couldn’t enthuse about it with his friends, and so he’d thrust those impulses into his treasures.

As he’d grown up, those impulses had matured, and eventually, they’d even been part of the reason he’d decided to join the military. The idea of being like the Jedis was appealing to him. He liked the idea of being a hero, of being on the front lines, of maybe even being the only thing between peace and war.

She waved her hand again. “I know how much you like your silly Star something or ’nother, but he didn’t mean it. It was just an accident.”

He looked away.

There she goes again. Opens her mouth and suddenly I’m pissed.

“It wasn’t an accident,” he ground out. “It shouldn’t have been within his reach. The door was locked for good reason. I don’t want anyone touching my things. You know this.”

“Oh, it’s not that big a deal.”

“Isn’t it? You encourage him to violate someone’s privacy, their personal space, then you try to prevent him from having consequences when he damages another person’s property, which is a crime, by the way.”

She glared at him, her expression growing calculating. “Do I have to get mom on the line?”

For a split second, his heart lurched in his chest, his immediate reaction of panic setting in before he could control it. “Mom” was the ultimate authority, and each of his generation wielded it like a finely hewn weapon to be unleashed with ruthlessness. “You’re lucky I don’t have the time for this. Lives are on the line, and I need to go,” he said, changing the subject.

“Aren’t they always?” A slight smirk tipped her lips. “Well, I said what I intended to say. I’ll catch you later.”

She ended the call, and he fell back in his seat with a groan, palm covering his eyes. “Family sucks.” A part of him wished he could go home and inspect his room. What else had the little monster got into while he was breaking things? Just thinking about the possibilities sent anxiety spiking through him.

I need to upgrade my locks.

He took several deep breaths, then pulled up the messenger app on his desk.

Hello, Mom. Can you upgrade the locks on my room? And this time, don’t give my sister a key. My nephew got in there again.

He hit send and let out a deep breath. “It’s so much easier to talk to her over text,” he said, shaking his head and chuckling at the contradictions. He loved his mom, loved his family, but most of the time, he needed at least a few hundred thousand miles between them just to stay sane.

“Now, where was I?” He checked the open screens on his computer. “Right,” he said, staring at information that had started to blur together and almost make less sense the more he reviewed it. And the longer the problem persisted, the tighter the knots in his stomach grew. The unknown was a terrible thing, and knowing that the fate of an entire planet, an entire species, was unknown? He didn’t even want to think about what all could be going on down there. It was too much to contemplate.

Knock, knock, knock.

He looked up at his office door. “Enter.”

His second in command stepped in, shoulders pulled back and chin high. Behind him, his tail was perfectly still, speaking to the reserved presence he was known for.

“Have you picked a human name yet?”

“Van,” he said with a nod, his line of a mouth growing even thinner. It was the closest thing to a frown he’d ever seen on the man.

“Good. Have we heard from the humans again?”

“I talked with the Captain of the USS Venture.”

“And?” Davin leaned forward, eager for news. They’d come to back up Earth’s defenses from an alien invasion days ago, only to find destruction. A shiver ran up his spine as he remembered the devastation. A massive debris field had cluttered the space around the planet, with only a handful of human ships still registering on the bridge’s display. Around those ships, countless unidentified orange dots had surrounded them, and for a heart-stopping moment, he’d wondered if his fleet had arrived too late.

But moments later, an explosion had detonated unlike anything he’d ever seen. His people were mostly peaceful, keeping to themselves, keeping a standing military exclusively for defensive purposes. He’d never seen anything like it. He’d believed it impossible. That is, until that blindingly white light had blotted out their cameras and shorted their displays, throwing the room into perfect darkness.

They’d scrambled to get their systems back online while fearing for their allies. With no working cameras, sensors, or comms, all they’d had was their imaginations to fill in the blanks on what had happened. It wasn’t until later, when they’d reestablished contact with the other ships, that they’d learned that Earth Command had detonated a nuclear bomb.

Many nuclear bombs.

“The satellites are a lost cause,” Van said, interrupting Davin’s thoughts.

“Oh?” he said, tuning back into the conversation. It had been easy of late to let his mind wander. There were just too many unknowns in this situation, and he didn’t like it. His mind wanted to run through tactics and scenarios, plan out strategies for each potential eventuality, but the possibilities were limitless and there was only so much time.

“The Venture’s Captain sent shuttles to investigate if they could salvage any of the satellites, but a significant percentage of them have already lost geostationary orbit. Many more will require extensive repair and some, they haven’t been able to find. He thinks they were destroyed in the blasts.”

Davin nodded. “And that means there’s no hope of communicating with Earth?”

In an uncharacteristic expression of emotion, Van sighed. “It means communication is more… difficult. As we’ve been able to confirm, their communications systems are designed around those satellites. But the captain’s also concerned that there could be broader issues at play.”

“Like?”

“The planet’s gone dark.”

Davin tensed. “Gone dark?”

“Yes. During their investigations, shuttles that traveled to the night side of the planet reported no electrical lighting visible from space.”

Meaning they’ve lost power.

“So,” Davin said, “even if we had the satellites up and running, there’s no guarantee anyone could respond.”

“That was my conclusion as well,” Van said with a nod of respect.

“Contact the human captains again. I want a conference call.”

“You have a plan?” Van asked.

“When do I not?”

Van paused, waiting for the explanation he knew was coming.

“Someone has to go down to Earth, reestablish contact. Without the satellites, there’s no way to even try to do it from here.” He shook his head, worry for the humans intensifying. What was happening down there? Were they okay? And had any of the enemy managed to slip past them before the blasts? He hadn’t really thought of that yet, but it was possible, right? There was no guarantee all the enemy had been destroyed. Anything could be going on down there. Nothing was outside the realm of possibility at this point.

“And you intend it to be us.”

Davin nodded. “I do.” He couldn’t imagine doing it any other way. Maybe it was a failing of his, but he’d always believed if you wanted something done right, you didn’t ask someone else to do it.

“They could shoot at us. They just fought off an alien invasion. You know how humans can be.”

He did. He’d seen enough human movies and shows to know sometimes their modus operandi was “shoot first, ask questions later,” but he didn’t care. The humans needed help, and he wanted to help them.

And there was no one he trusted to do that more than his own people.