Ambassador of War

Chapter 7

The dawn rose, without any word from the scout. The High Ambassador had ordered his Special Forces to assemble – now, they were busy preparing for the fight ahead.

He knew that history would be made today. The next dusk would herald a new era; an era of prosperity for the Ambassador people. Once these traitors had been crushed, their dividing ways eradicated and dangerous philosophies extinguished, Erudan's people would be able to move on to greater things, new frontiers. A future where they grasped what was rightfully theirs without hesitation, and where those who stood against that right fell swiftly under the boots of their Ambassador and Taurin soldiers.

He slid the last round into his revolver, the sleek and uniform weapon a far cry from the archaic cannons his enemies wielded; not that theirs were any less dangerous. His men, armed with weapons of a near identical design, had already loaded theirs, the guns nestled in holsters that rested above their warrior hearts. Their armour – white plating coating their limbs and torsos, gold helmets encasing their heads – was clean and polished, gleaming even in the lower light of the room; in the desert outside, they would shine brighter than the sun.

His own tan armour, and silver and green helm, had been polished to just as high, if not a higher standard by his own hand. A good commander set the example for their men, and if the High Ambassador wasn't a good commander, what right did he have to stand before these men: the Protectorate's, the Ambassador people's, and perhaps even the known galaxy's finest soldiers?

The only weapon he had which his troops did not was the electron manipulator, clipped to his thigh, The thick cord ran from the power pack that was held on the belt around his waist, to the ornately-detailed hilt of his blade, the hand guard that wrapped around the end of the wire engraved with beautiful, precise spirals and swirls; a design copied on the High Ambassador's mask. His regard for the Darks may be low, but their Queen was still royalty, and if the High Ambassador encountered her he would still offer this single mark of begrudging respect. They may be dishonourable, but he would not drop to their level.

"We ride out in three hours," he told them. "Leave no stone unturned, no door unopened. Our crusade ends today; and with it, Erudan's future begins!"

***

Malar awoke to Zion curled against her, and smiled. After training with her daughter the day before, she'd come home later than she'd planned. She'd walked into the hut, sweat clinging to her blade-burned skin and adrenalin coursing through her veins, and when Zion had seen her...she hoped she'd live to see that look cross his face again.

She shook him, gently, and he groaned, nuzzling closer to her. She longed to remain like this, as they'd been able to do so long ago, but she knew what today brought. They'd have plenty of time for intimacy on the flight to their new home; wherever that may be.

Reluctantly, she shook him again. Another groan escaped his lips, and he tilted his head slightly, looking up at her through hooded eyes.

"Just a few more minutes," he pleaded.

"Busy day," she replied.

He kissed her neck, then rolled over, allowing her to get out of bed before following suit. As she reached for her armour, she felt him grab her shoulders and turn her around – she sank into his embrace, pressing her body against his, and kissed him passionately.

"I love you," he whispered when their lips parted. She replied by wrapping her arms around him tighter, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I don't want this to be the last time." His tone made her pull back slightly, looking into his eyes.

"It won't be," she promised. "We'll survive."

He nodded, then pulled her back in. They enjoyed each other's warmth once more, before she broke away. He cocked his head slightly, and she smiled at him, gently stroking his cheek. Seeing his eyes close as she cupped his face, the way her very touch brought him comfort, made her heart swell.