It was well before the two suns would begin their slow climb over the skies of Vaxivia when I set foot once more on the spacecraft that would finally return me home. It had been a long journey, but I knew that the battle waiting for us at home would likely make the last two months look like child’s play.

The tension onboard was like a living organism. My brothers, their human mates, and I were all unsure about the home to which we were headed—whether it would still be there, and if it was, whether we would face resistance in our attempts to warn our eldest brother, the newly-crowned King Mulkaro, of the impending threat posed against his kingdom, Dragselia.

We were just finishing hefting the last of our supplies into the storage hold, boxes and crates loaded with clothing, food, fuel, and a healthy quantity of scientific instruments and research materials courtesy of my brother Ragal’s mate, Tasha Lord-Case. A wonderful person, to be sure, but her need of a functioning lab, even in space transit, evaded my understanding.

“How is all of this necessary?” I grumbled to our older brother, Karun.

“Perhaps, considering the fact that she and Ragal found a cure for Infernian Slumber, you should question less and work faster?” he snapped, referencing the nanite-based psycho-physio control infection that our enemies had created to control and manipulate Dragselians and humans alike.

“You say that as if I’m not faster than you, older brother,” I quipped.

Being the youngest of five and, therefore, nearly always told to hold my tongue, I enjoyed reminding my older brothers of their advanced age and the fact that I was younger, stronger, smarter, and more handsome. At least, by my own standards.

Karun just growled low in his throat and continued working, wisely realizing that I was right.

As we loaded the last containers through the large open rear, I smelled something odd.

“What is that?” I asked, sniffing. “Do you smell . . . I don’t know, something fruity?”

“Are you ever full? Great Fire Gods, we just ate breakfast!”

Karun shook his head and walked ahead into the main hull of the ship. Realizing my stomach felt suddenly empty and that, for once, he was probably right, I followed close behind him, closing the rear door from the control panel as I did.

We snaked through the large hallways to the main bridge. The two crew members Tasha had recruited for the flight were busy going through checks on the ion accelerators and energy systems in the underbelly. However, all of my brothers and their mates were gathered around the strategy table except Ragal, who quickly disengaged from his pre-flight checks in the smaller attached cockpit that was used for manual override maneuvers.

Zaruv, the second-oldest of the sons of King Patabu and the eldest of us, Dragselia’s exiled princes, was attempting to establish communication with Dragselian command. His voice was deep and his words were crisply, and to my ear, comically, enunciated as he boomed into the Comm-Receptor.

“Notice to Dragselian Colonial Command. This is Zaruv vet Patabu, Crown Prince in Exile. I have an urgent message.” He began his rehearsed appeal as I rolled my eyes.

It was probably the hundredth time in the last week that we had attempted to contact anyone on Dragselia, her nearby colonies, or even a passing Dragselian ship. Our brother, King Mulkaro, had ordered that the communication signal from our ship be locked out of all Dragselian channels upon our customary exile. His care and concern for our continued well-being warmed my heart.

The party waited in silence for an answer that wouldn’t come. I loudly dropped my coat onto the table and plunked down in a seat.

“Well, that was productive,” I said sarcastically.

Zaruv eyed me narrowly. “It was worth the minimal effort. Who knows when the communication blackout will be lifted?”

“Oh! I know the answer to this one—never,” I said pointedly.

“What good does such pessimism do us? Surely, there is no harm in trying,” Zaruv argued.

“I would contend that I present you with realism, batr, and realistically, the blackout will stay in place until we are removed from existence, which is when Mulkaro will stop seeing us as a threat to the security of his power.”

Jennifer, Zaruv’s comely ginger-haired mate, cut in. “Who wants a cookie?” she said, producing a salver of warm chocolate confections. I knew her game, but occasionally, logic couldn’t compete with the demands of a dragon’s appetite.

Eagerly, I grabbed several, biting into the soft treats. “Thank you, Jennifer. Your human cuisine is always delightful.” Then I turned back to Zaruv. “However, it doesn’t change the fact that our genius brother is not going to lift the sanctions of our exile, so this is a waste of our time.”

“Batr, you go too far. You know it is forbidden to mock or question the king,” came Karun’s low voice beside me.

“Yes, it is forbidden . . . on Dragselia, but we’re not exactly on Dragselia, or has no one else noticed?” I said, frustrated by their constant adherence to laws which didn’t really apply to us anymore.

“Boys, boys, let’s all put our pickles away and settle down,” Andie joked, putting a hand on Karun’s shoulder.

I enjoyed Andie’s somewhat suggestive humor, which was a good fit for my stoic, charmless brother. All of my brothers had happily found mates on Vaxivia, and I was pleased for them, though I didn’t entirely approve of their timing. I surely understood the need for female company, having been deprived of it myself for so long, but it seemed rather inopportune to link with a mate given the present and uncertain circumstances.

“Perhaps you should assist Karun with that in private and see how he blushes,” I teased.

“I don’t blush,” Karun said, annoyed.

Andie touched his cheek and examined his features. “No, I don’t suppose a green man can blush,” she said, smiling at him.

“Well, actually, let me disabuse you of that belief, because I happen to recall a particular young palace maid who—”

“Pavar,” Karun warned.

“No, Pavar, please do finish,” Andie said, leaning forward, her blonde braid falling over her shoulder as she looked at me with keen interest.

“Unfortunately, I think my safety depends on this discussion happening another time, Andie, but I promise I have excellent blackmail material, should you need it,” I said, smiling as Karun looked uncomfortable.

“Deal!”

“Shall we prepare for launch then, batr?” Ragal, the pilot among us, asked Zaruv.

“Yes,” he said, nodding to Ragal and Tasha, who was serving as Ragal’s copilot.

Looking back in my direction, Zaruv continued, “As for you, Pavar, we may not yet be on Dragselia or any of her colonies. However, we will be soon, and it would be wise for you to remember that the king’s laws do apply there.”

“Senseless laws that should be changed. Alas, that would require some intelligent and self-awareness on the part of our King,” I added.

Zaruv’s expression grew darker. “You cannot speak of him like this, Pavar. It’s inappropriate. You are his brother and his subject. We must stand united if we are to defeat this Infernian threat.”

“My point is just this—we would be a stronger kingdom if perhaps we all realized that our King is not, and could not possibly be, perfect. We are in this situation thanks to his obstinacy and rigid adherence to an antiquated tradition. If Dragselia falls, it will not be because I, alone, question him. It will be because no one else does.”

I knew my voice was raised with passion, but I was so tired of beating against the same tired defense any time I pointed out the stupidity of our laws.

“You speak like that in Dragselia, and right or not, it will get you killed. Is that what you want? If it’s your death you’re after, I’m sure there are any number of Infernians who will happily help you with that.”

“I would gladly lay down my life for Dragselia, whether it is in battle against the Infernians or for speaking the truth about the faults of our government. I know the purity of my convictions. Do you?” I retorted.

“Enough!” he said as he slammed his open palm onto the table. “I am done with this conversation, Pavar. If you wish to continue to brood over your issues with the monarchy, do so in the cargo hold whilst you double-check our supplies.”

Irritated at such a dismissal, I opened my mouth to argue back, but the look of pleading on Jennifer’s usually sunny face silenced me more efficiently than Zaruv’s repudiation. I knew my arguments were logically sound, but I also knew that the war of our opinions could not be won in the confines of one discussion.

When we were first exiled, I had done my duty. I had held my tongue and accepted my exile publicly. But now, amongst my fellow exiles on a planet that was thousands of light years from the nearest reaches of our kingdom, it was ludicrous to obey a law that forbade frank and reasonable discussion.

I knew logic was on my side and that with time, I would force my brothers to see the reality of things. In truth, I was fairly sure they privately believed the same, but tradition was a hard prison from which to be freed.

Still, my blood was hot as I walked the long route back to the cargo hold. To be fair, my blood was usually hot, being part-dragon, but the argument left me stewing and I tore off my overshirt. The less clothing, the better. I wanted to burst into dragon form and fly off my frustration, but that wasn’t going to be an option for at least another week, maybe more.

Burning with excess energy, I slammed the panel for the cargo hold, causing a slight fracture to the glass but caring little. I walked the rows of cases, scanning the labels with my work panel.

It was tedious work, and I had already done it prior to loading the crates, making it all the more irritating.

As I made my way through the containers, I caught a whiff of the same citrusy smell. It was intriguing and I smiled to myself, wondering what other delicious treats Jennifer had planned for the trip.

She was a talented cook, and were it not for her passion for work as a nurse practitioner, I believe she would have found massive success with her culinary skills. Her meals had been one of the few bright spots of our time on the rugged desert planet of Vaxivia.

I hummed, distracted by thoughts of confections as I continued checking crates. Coming up to the final row, I heard a loud thump from the end of the aisle.

Startled, I began to walk toward the sound, and then it came again, louder this time. I started to run as the thumping grew more persistent.

Arriving at a large and oddly unlabeled crate, I put my hand to the crate and felt a thump against its wall, reverberating against my hand.

“Helmphf!” I heard as another blow shook the side of the container.

Realizing someone was trapped, I quickly jumped into action, removing the boxes stacked above it. Hastily, I shoved aside the last crate and sent metal instruments clattering to the floor.

Fitting my fingers into several drilled holes in the plastic lid, I jerked upward, tearing it off. The light was dim and the box was deep, and for a moment, I strained to make out what I saw. It appeared to be a lumpy stack of blankets until I saw the blanket slide free and the form of a human emerge.

Standing up quickly, a woman gasped for air and gripped the side of the container. With auburn hair that had the sensual waving look of a person just roused from bed and a figure that curved and flowed with luscious appeal, I found myself staring at her in shock.

I stood on top of the crate beside hers, still holding the shredded plastic lid. In the dim light, her skin glowed and her brown eyes glittered almost golden as they looked up, somewhat startled as well, into mine.