Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
To bond with an exotic baby you knew you could not keep.
We looked more or less the same as our human counterparts, but hybrids were stronger, faster. For some, the reptilian Vorec genes were more dominant—iridescent scales blended with our skin. Unusual colorings in moments of high emotion.
Much of what set us apart was concealed at all times under uniforms, yet some key traits could not be hidden.
My nails were hooked and required daily tending to remain at a length that made holding a stylus possible. Extremely sharp talons were a common trait amongst the females in the dorms. We were not taught human anatomy, so I had no basis of comparison, but I did know they had only one heart. We had two.
Our respiratory systems were more advanced than a humans, to facilitate breathing the planet's toxic fog with no issue. Hybrids possessed a vorec internal organ tucked near our lungs. Its purpose? To pulse out a drum-like rhythm when we grew especially aggressive.
For the vorec, that thumping sound alerted whoever was on guard that an enraged beast was preparing an imminent attack. In the hybrid population, to be able to create that deep booming drum came with age. I had only accidentally let out a series of threatening thumps and hisses when engaged in rigorous hand-to-hand combat training or in battle defending the humans from wildlife that strayed too close to civilization.
It was considered the apex of threatening, and absolutely unallowed in the academy, the aforementioned circumstances aside.
Most remarkably, hybrids lived significantly longer than unmodified humans. Physical aging ceased upon maturity. Some of the earliest hybrids still lived hundreds of years after their birth.
I had been five when my birth mother completed her duty and handed me over for collection. Five when an instructor handed me a sharp training sword, locked me in an empty room, and unleashed an enraged adolescent vorec looking for blood. Through an observation window, I was observed fending it off with my unfamiliar weapon. Ultimately, I had killed it quite by accident. My jab pierced its soft palate, and the poor, small female died in minutes.
I was given top grades.
Nothing like a brush with death to welcome one to one’s new home. And those were the gentle years.
That was the previous general who didn’t look at me as if he wanted to swallow me whole.
General Cyderial possessed an unholy stare that even the blond hair that hung over his eyes could not conceal. Broad-shouldered, anything but relaxed, my first impression of him was… to steer clear.
Only twelve, I had polished my brass buttons, donned my best uniform, stood at attention before his desk, and made the mistake of meeting his eye.
Lesson learned from that point forward—avoid eye contact with the man at all costs.
Not once did he speak to me upon that first appointment. No comment on my subpar marks, no feedback nor encouragement. Nothing more than that unnerving, weighty glare.
I’d left that odd encounter feeling as if I had been marked and found wanting. The whole exchange was painfully uncomfortable. Keyed up and agitated, I had done the unthinkable on my way out. I swiped that pretty pink geode off one of his fancy shelves.
I still couldn’t tell you why I dared such a petty, stupid crime. Perhaps it was because I was young and embarrassed. Perhaps I had wanted to punish him for making me feel so strange.
Perhaps it was because his office had been so unusual and smelled so nice, yet the man within it was awful.
I learned to hate him.
Change for the academy came hard and fast after our initial meeting. Life became much more complicated. Training harder, classes more intense.
Punishments far more severe.
Recruits entered the office and were never seen again.
One of them had been my seat partner in biology, a nice boy who smiled at me and shared his notes.
Shortly after, classes became fully segregated. Girls to the right, boys to the left. Our classrooms were invaded by grown men, armed watchers positioned in every corner to ensure the genders did not intermingle.
Violence would be used on any boy caught glancing at the female side of the room. Those boys who thought to tease by sticking out their incredibly long tongues were beaten beyond recognition. The watchers were relentless.
There were no more jokes in the hall. There was no more comradery at meals.
The women had no one but each other, and the culture in the dorms underwent a dramatic shift.
After a few years, it seemed almost normal to live in such isolation, but there were mental consequences to the general’s edicts.
It appeared worse for the boys, but the girls suffered too. Loneliness, an unnatural life of isolation. It took some time to find a new female-only equilibrium.
Changes in behavior that no one talked about, lest they get a fellow sister in trouble.