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Broken Glass

The human, Abel, had proven to be quite the welcome surprise for Brolath. He cooperated with the questioning without fail, politely deferred to Brolath's rank and authority, and thanked the Regulian shyly when Brolath covered up his naked body with his jacket.

Upon clothing the human, Brolath whispered.

“Don't worry, everything will be okay, I'll make sure of it."

Abel nodded slowly, a small smile slowly forming on his lips. He was happy and that made Brolath's heart warm.

It was hard to believe that this human could be the terrorist who killed so many people, but Brolath trusted the Claw's assessment that he was just a patsy in the grand scheme of things. Once Brolath retrieved a bigger suspect, he'd make a deal in exchange for Abel's immunity, he had the Emperor's ear after all.

Still, he could not help but be concerned over Atay's words. There was no point in taking the Claw at their word, especially when they clearly wanted the Guard to fail, so Brolath tried not to think about them. Brolath had been through worse working conditions and he was intent on making sure he would not repeat the same mistakes he made with Chikal.

“So, what leads do you have, Abel?" Rorgh asked, crossing his arms beside Brolath's desk.

The human shifted himself and for a brief moment, his legs revealed his manhood. Brolath had seen pictures of human penises but this was the first time he had a good look at one live and in-person. There was no sheathe, the penis was exposed to the world at all times, and the rounded head of it was covered in a blanket of foreskin.

Humans were popular bed-slaves in the Empire and Brolath could see why. Their genitals were practically designed in a way to say that this species was made for sex.

The cock was limp and Brolath imagined stroking it while it gradually grew stiffer. There was something appealing about it being on display like this and Brolath knew that if he were within arms reach it would be impossible not to try and feel it up.

“Well..."

They don't believe a word you're saying.

Abel's hands twitched as he slowly paced through the Ralothburg Public Library's metal stacks. The Human Literature section was jam-packed with inoffensive literature: smutty romance novels, dog-eared fantasy and science-fiction novels, and pre-war conspiracy theory tracts. All of these were deemed inoffensive and safe for human or alien consumption, it had the dual purpose of making all pre-war human culture look vapid and also avoided giving anyone any special ideas about freedom or enlightenment.

The Regulian wants to fuck you, that's the only reason you're still here.

Stepping behind a stack, Abel gasped for breath as pressure welled up in his chest. The two of them were keeping an eye on him and had him bugged. He could not show too much panic, lest they figure out he has absolutely nothing to offer them.

Why else would they believe your bullshit?

Pulling out pre-war book about, “Reptilian Shapeshifters," a book the Regulians no-doubt loved, considering the war with the Lacertans, Abel turned to a random page and folded the page in half.

Abel had told Brolath and Rorgh that this was all part of some complex communication between rebel cells. It was, naturally, all a lie. Abel merely had picked the library as being the first part of his fraudulent espionage mission because it had been the very first time he made contact with any resistance cell.

Through the stacks, Abel saw that very table he sat at, with a pile of human books, desperate to find some semblance of his lost culture. He saw himself collapsing into slumber and then waking up just after someone placed a volume of John Locke's works next to his head. He or she walked off before Abel could see them, but the book contained an envelope with his first letter from the resistance, green paper with yellow text so that colorblind Regulians could not read it.

But today, there was no such miracle. Abel was alone in the library and he could only delay so long before the two Guards grew suspicious.

Partly dismayed at having no lead but also relieved that he could go another day without possibly selling out anyone in the resistance.

He still had many more days of clandestine meetings and secret messages to perform.

He only hoped the Guards continued to believe him.

“So, we spent all day just for you to fold a page on a book?" Rorgh frowned at Abel, who bowed submissively towards the brown Lupiad in his cubicle.

“Making contact with the resistance is a complex matter, sirs," Abel bowed again, this time at Brolath.

“Captain," Rorgh shook his head and motioned towards the datapad irritably. Everyone was a little on edge today, the office that they had been assigned in the Claw Headquarters had been invaded by the smell of rotten eggs, no doubt done by the Claw to mess with the Guards, “this seems overly complex, even for a resistance cell."

Brolath looked down at the human. Now that he had been granted some limited freedom, his hair was neater and looked as soft as silk. It was merely styled as a mane, but it looked finer than Brolath's own and Brolath desperately wished to feel it.

“It would explain how they've given the Claw the runabout, wouldn't it?"

Sighing, Rorgh placed his datapad on the desk, “I suppose so, but..."

Rorgh's eyes darted between the human and Brolath.

“Abel," Brolath touched him on the shoulder, catching a few strands of his hair on the back of his paw. It felt as soft as it looked, “why don't you go and make us some coffee?"

“With pleasure, sirs," Abel smiled knowingly at Brolath.

Brolath couldn't help but feel a softness in his heart but also a firmness in his loins as the human happily obeyed his orders. Abel was wearing a pair of dark jeans now and it was serving to accentuate his round, firm butt, which attracted Brolath's gaze.

Thoughts of the future invaded Brolath's head. He couldn't help but imagine Abel happily serving him a cold drink on a hot day back on Regulus Prime while he painted a breathtaking landscape. Brolath was getting a bit too old to have not a single mate or slave, if the human was grateful enough, perhaps…

“Captain!" Rorgh snapped his fingers in front of the Regulian's ear and Brolath immediately broke out of his trance. “I need you to focus!"

“Sorry, Adjunct," Brolath coughed and leaned against the corner of the cubicle, “I was distracted by worries about the mission, I must conf-"

“You were distracted by that human's tight, shapely butt, don't fucking lie to me!" Rorgh said in a low hiss. “I told you when we started that if you wanted to find a companion on Earth, you should stop dicking around and just buy a slave! You barb their ass, confess your feelings, whatever; just do it with a slave and not a fucking asset!"

“He seems so nice though. Reminds me of-"

“By the Emperor..." Rorgh groaned and tapped the side of his black nose, “...he's releasing scents that indicate deception and simmering anger, can't you tell?"

“Scent lie detection is not a precise science," Brolath swallowed, “besides, after everything he's been through, it's only natural he's a little angry. Chikal-"

“He is not your boyfriend, Captain! He's only being helpful and sweet to us because we have a gun to his head! He will never be your sla-!"

Rorgh's ears suddenly twitched and he stood up. Brolath spun around and saw Abel being escorted back to the cubicles by that all-too familiar blonde Sirian, Frontus.

“Letting your prisoner make you drinks without supervision," Frontus shook his head, a smug grin on his thin muzzle, “sloppy, sloppy!"

Frontus patted Abel on the rear, shaking the tray with two coffee mugs on it. The human looked visibly distressed when the Sirian touched him, Brolath couldn't help but notice.

“Good thing they assigned me to supervise you guys," Frontus laughed and let Abel return to the two Guards, “can I get you anything? Office supplies? Receptionist? Hope?"

“We're good," Brolath muttered as he took one of the white mugs from the tray and brought it to his mouth, lapping at it slightly. He'd need a filter pill after drinking this but felt strongly against asking a Claw Agent for a pill, “thank you."

“Abroth, what's wrong?"

Entranced by the blurry letters on the menu in his hands, Abel almost didn't hear Regnath address him.

“I'm fine," Abel pursed his lips and smiled awkwardly. A wide television was hanging on the wall just above an arch leading from the dining room and into the waiting area. Atay was on the screen, the black vulpeculan was talking about how they're getting close to the bottom of the mass human deaths. Abel was not out of the woods yet, “what's...what's good here?"

Regnath adjusted the collar of his blue tunic and sighed.

“Try the sand rice with dehydrated water lizard," Yin piped in, tail swishing behind him eagerly, “I used to love that back home! Why have we never taken him to a Vulpeculan restaurant before?"

Chuckling, Regnath softly gazed at Yin, “I prefer Regulian food, you know that."

“It's far too salty for a human to enjoy!" Yin sniped. “Remember when I had to rush Abel to the hospital because he was dehydrated after eating a royal course of brine-meats and salted water?"

“I thought humans could drink saltwater," Regnath looked a bit ashamed, “I thought they could eat anything, really."

“How did you survive without me?" Yin shook his head.

“I didn't."

Beneath the table, Regnath's thin tail wrapped around Yin's bush. The Vulpeculan jolted a bit before easing up and smiling at his master.

There had only been one question when Abel returned home after his absence and that had been:

“Are you okay?"

“Yes, sorry for making you worry," Abel had said, “I forgot to call, I was staying at a friend's place. I didn't break curfew."

And that had been it. The Claw had not paid them a visit yet, otherwise they would have said something or tried to give off some sort of a clue that something was amiss, but nothing came up. They were unaware that their precious Abroth was now an unwilling informant to the Claw...or the Guard? Abel wasn't sure who was really calling the shots here, if anyone was. The Lupiad, Rorgh, mentioned they had a tracking device inserted into Abel somewhere, but he had no idea where, all he knew was that despite being released for the night, he was not free.

All of what he was doing was to help preserve this. All the shame of working with the enemy, supplicating towards arrogant aliens, enduring the stares that Brolath gave him, and also gritting his teeth whenever Frontus felt him up with his slimy paws.

It was all to protect his family.

But deep down inside him, there was always a fear: a fear that the man known as Glass might be something more benevolent than a fanatical ultranationalist. Perhaps Arnold had other reasons why he didn't want to work with him.

And worse than that fear, for Abel truly had no lead on Glass, was the fear that he was going to get caught any day now.

Abel was buried beneath a pile of lies and he had no way of digging his way out.

No tears, no crying...however long he might have left, he was going to enjoy what little time he had left before his fate was sealed.

A bowl of toasted sand rice sprinkled liberally with flakes of dried meat was placed on the table. Abel quietly dug into it, finding the texture to be unpleasant but the flavors to be strangely spicy and compelling.

Eat now and enjoy. For tomorrow, you die.

Or whatever they want to do with me…

Another day had passed and Abel returned to the library once more. Rorgh frowned deeply as he stared at what he had sardonically dubbed the “AbelCam," on his datapad. The human continued to dawdle in the stacks of old, dusty human books, flipping through them idly.

“I must express my concern again, Captain," Rorgh scrunched up his snout as he tapped the screen with his claw, “I have a hunch the human is just buying time."

“Hrm," Brolath shrugged with a yawn in the passenger seat, “you seem a little impatient, Adjunct. Not used to a stakeout?"

“It's not-"

“They're great opportunities for improving a skill or meditating," Brolath scratched at his own datapad, licking his lips, “I learned how to oil paint during one, you know?"

“Let me see what kind of skills you're learning."

Rorgh reached for his Captain's datapad but Brolath was able to yank it away, cradling it against his chest so that Rorgh couldn't see the skimpy human underwear that was on the screen. Brolath was curious what Abel might have looked like in it…

“They're references for my paintings."

The Lupiad flared his nostrils and rolled his eyes as he turned back to his own screen, “Thought you did landscapes..."

A soft whisper came through Rorgh's datapad.

“I know you're listening..." Abel hissed, “...I've gotten a signal, I'm going to the park outside."

Rorgh groaned, “Looks like your human wants to go for a walk."

Brolath grunted in reply and pointed out the windshield just as Abel stepped down the white, marble staircase leading down from the library. The human brushed a layer of dust off of the tail of his brown summer jacket and crossed the empty street to King Ralesh Memorial Park, where a monumental granite statue of the late King himself stood sentinel over a disproportionately small grass field.

Abel sat on a bench in the shade of the massive statue of King Ralesh. Abel remembered the day that he was assassinated in Sarajevo very well, Regnath and Yin were staring at the television in panic when the news reached them and Abel succeeded in keeping his elation hidden. The most powerful oppressor on Earth, dead! Surely an overthrow was around the corner?

It wasn't. A new King was elected, the Regulians were able to turn the Lacertans into a greater enemy for Earth, and life moved on. With his death, Earth was pulled into a Regulian war as the felines gradually stick their claws deeper into Earth.

Perhaps Ralesh had been a mere pawn, just like any other slave. Perhaps Earth's most powerful oppressor had been it's greatest fool.

Perhaps Abel was just grateful that the King was giving him some much-needed shade. The sun was more oppressive than the Empire today and so Abel did not mind bowing before the King.

Your lies are going to catch up with you soon, Abel thought, staring off into the distance, the Lupiad is suspicious, he's not going to let this go on much longer.

That morning, Brolath had once again ordered Abel to make him coffee, like he was some kind of office slave. Unlike the last time though, Brolath followed him to the lunch room where the coffee maker was. Abel was partly relieved at first, as he was worried Frontus would harass him again, but at the same time he knew that the Regulian wanted something more out of him than to help solve the plot.

As Abel stuck the pot under the dripper, he felt the Regulian's strong arms wrap around his chest. The office was steaming hot and being forced to snuggle up against a Regulian was almost as suffocating as the weight of his arms.

Brolath's breath smelled of meat grease as he whispered into Abel's ear, “No matter what happens, I'm going to take care of you."

Abel suppressed a shudder.

This is the only way to protect your family…

“I think..." Brolath rubbed his furry cheeks against Abel's skin, “...you could be happy..."

You deserve this for what you did. Offer yourself up and save your family.

“Yes..." Abel whispered, bile rising up in his throat.

What a pitiful end to Abel the Revolutionary.

Abel snorted and leaned back into the bench.

A gust of dry savannah wind blew past the square and Abel caught the slightest hint of a fluttering noise in the short hedge behind his bench. Turning around, Abel found a piece of paper jammed inside the hedge.

Pulling the paper out, Abel found that it was a leaflet for the Imperial Academy, calling on for the best and most loyal humans to join them during an open house where one would have access to the library, gymnasium, and the campus cafeteria and pub.

The pub…

If I'm going to turn my live into a farce, I might as well go out with a bang.

“Here we are..." Rorgh muttered as he pulled the car into one of many deserted parking stalls.

Desiring not to be seen by potential rebel spies, of which Abel claimed there were many in the Academy, much to Rorgh's disbelief, Brolath had insisted on parking at a park near the campus that was filled with wild grass imported from Regulus that was dried up and dying due to landscaping funding being diverted to the war effort. No would would be watching here.

“This is the final place?" Brolath turned around and asked, looking directly at Abel with his impassive eyes. “You're certain this time?"

“Yeah..." Abel popped open the passenger door and stepped out, “...it's at the pub. It'll take a few hours but someone-"

“Captain," Rorgh flung open his own door and leaped out. Leaning on the roof, he poked his long nose back inside and addressed Brolath, “I'd like to have a quick chat with our asset, may I?"

“Go ahead, Adjunct."

“Love live the Emperor," Rorgh recited before gently shutting the door.

Abel looked over at the brown Lupiad nervously before being grabbed by the shoulder and escorted into the flat, empty field. A bulge was pressed up against the side of the Lupiad's jacket, his pistol.

If he wanted to dispose of Abel without attracting attention, this would be the place.

“Alright," Rorgh announced and let go of Abel, leaning up against a dead tree that looked like several bamboo shoots stuck together, “level with me, what's your goal here?"

Rorgh's brown eyes flickered in the sunlight. The Lupiad's tone was strange, oddly soft and comforting to Abel's ears, and that was what scared him the most.

“I'm trying to help."

“No," Rorgh crossed his arms, “you're not. I don't know what your game is but it's not helping us. You want to waste our time? Throw us off the scent? Or maybe you just want to save your skin another day?"

A chill ran down Abel's spine when Rorgh suggested the last bit. Abel tried not to show anything, but the Lupiad's black nose twitched, which gave Abel another jolt. The damned wolf was reading him like an open book.

“You're handsome and I think you know that, Abel."

For a second, Abel was afraid he was going to have to deal with the amorous advances of a third alien.

“Brolath wants to fuck you."

Gulping, Abel replied with a hoarse, “Yeah."

“He's got the Emperor's eye, even if this investigation goes South, he can just say the word and he can get you collared and shipped back to his apartment on Regulus Prime," Rorgh sighed and looked off to the setting sun. “If you want that kind of lifestyle, I'm not going to judge you. Not everyone can be strong."

Rage simmered within Abel's stomach but he suppressed it, mindful of the Lupiad's keen senses.

“I told him to pick up a companion while he was on Earth and he has his eyes on you, you might be able to find some comfort with him," Rorgh sniffed, “but I don't think that's what you want."

Abel blinked.

Rorgh's black lips curled up into a smile, “You want to smash the whole fucking system, yeah? Free Earth, tear down the whole Empire, and personally spit in the Emperor's face?"

Sighing, Rorgh took off his jacket and hiked up his sleeve. Parting his wood-brown fur was a ring of charred black in the shape of four Lupiads in a circle, each biting the tails of the next. In their paws were a brush, a sword, a hammer, and a bow.

“Was part of the Lupiad Collective Pack for most of my childhood until the Empire 'liberated,' me," Rorgh tilted his head to the side, “so yeah, I know a thing or two about wanting to smash the system and I don't think your desire has left, yeah?"

Before Abel could stammer out a reply, Rorgh continued, “You don't have to answer. We Lupiads might be the 'attack dogs' of the Regulian Empire, but we're all lessers in their eyes too. Believe me, being a Guard, I fucking know how it is. So if you want to impede our investigation and fuck off to Regulus Prime to be Brolath's little fucktoy, I'm not going to hold it against you, I'll even buy you a gift to commemorate your enslavement; Brolath was looking at some skimpy underwear, how about that?"

Rorgh took out his datapad, tapped it twice and walked over to Abel, holding it out.

“You can look at the investigation's files, all of them," Rorgh handed over the datapad to Abel, who eyed it cautiously in his hands.

“The gas attacks that we're investigating...they're believed to modified versions of Smart Anti-biotics. There's ample evidence, as you'll see here, to suggest that they've been modified to target certain species. So far it has just been minor respiratory issues but if properly designed there's nothing stopping these from targeting cells or organs-"

“Of all non-humans..." Abel whispered.

“That's the fear, yeah," Rorgh patted Abel on the shoulder and turned around, bushy tail gently swaying behind him, “we don't know anywhere near enough about the terrorists to guess how close they are to this, but if they were to develop such a thing..."

Rorgh sighed and looked over his shoulder back at Abel, “...You can hate the Empire, you can even hate me and the Captain, but do you think all aliens deserve death? Will revenge for Earth's disgrace be worth your family? Do you believe every alien that has set foot on Earth deserves death?"

Abel's hand quivered as he looked over the documents on the datapad.

“Well, as I said, I'm not going to judge you for any decision you make, Abel..."

The campus pub was quiet and with it being the only drinking hole within miles of savannah, this was quite unusual. Two other human students were silently studying in booths by themselves, occasionally nursing their beers.

Abel though, was sitting at the bar where he normally sat, but seeing as the circumstances were quite dire, decided to forgo his normal order of an expensive ale and instead stick to shots of cheap bourbon.

“Cheers!" he smiled at the bartender, a tired woman about his age, and lifted his glass.

The bourbon was harsh and felt like scalding magma going down his throat. Standards were slipping with the war raging across the galaxy and Abel didn't want to think about what they were cutting the liquor with.

It's not like it mattered anyways.

A TV mounted above the bar had an episode of “Young Imperials," playing, the Propaganda Ministry's favorite animated series about one young teenager from every Imperial species being given magical powers that they use to fight all enemies of the Empire. It was the end of an episode, where they would have a quick morality lesson, and Rick, the human of the group, was apologizing for not reporting his neighbor to the Claw after seeing he had a pet iguana and treating that as a dog-whistle for being a Lacertan agent. Alorth, the Regulian, patted him on the head and made a quick, patronizing joke and everyone all laughed, including the human.

The cartoon depressed Abel, but thankfully it was not the episode where Rick made friends with a Lacertan who had crash-landed on Earth and trusted him because he was nice. Naturally, it turned out he was a genocidal lizard who had plans to gas the entire planet and Rick was treated as a moron just because he had the audacity to think he could be friends with another species and overcome boundaries that were literal lightyears apart.

A news broadcast came on and it was once again talking about the mass deaths Abel had caused. More people had passed away in the hospital and Abel didn't want to hear about it, laying his face on the bar counter while the reporters listed off numbers and government officials reported that they were getting closer and closer to finding out who did it.

I deserve this, Abel feel into despair once again, thinking of his presumptive fate. It was time to start getting used to the idea of being Brolath's slave because there was no other way Abel and his family were going to walk away from this unharmed.

All you did was buy time and they're not going to give you anymore.

The news shifted away from the deaths of the former slaves and began talking about another gas bomb being set off. It was in the center of a crowd in the Autonomous Communes, the Regulian's cruel tease of human autonomy, and it only harmed one person: a Regulian who happened to be the only alien in the area, who was rushed to the hospital with respiratory issues.

Abel felt a tight sensation in his chest, knowing that he could have come close to finding out who was behind this but failing. Perhaps if he had played his cards right, he could have had the best of both worlds: being a proud member of the resistance and also putting a stop to whatever maniac was behind these attacks.

Idealism was now in short supply though. There was no hope left for Earth and certainly none for Abel himself. There was no point in pining for the last embers of freedom before they were snuffed out, if the Regulians don't do it, then the worst examples of humanity would be eager to do it as well.

“Another!" Abel cried out and raised his hand.

They say that there's maybe a million slaves that the Regulians brought with them, most of the Vulpeculans, hell, even a few Regulians themselves. As far as I'm concerned, that's the best thing the cats ever gave us: a million possible friends to join the fight.

Arnold's optimistic words rang hollow, it all seemed like a sick joke. If what Rorgh was saying was true, would the perpetrator behind the attacks consider those slaves to be enemies as well?

Someone tapped their claws on the bar counter in a very irritating fashion. More importantly though, Abel's drink had not arrived and he was going to need more alcohol in his system if he was going to let that Regulian have his way with him for all time.

Before Abel could lift his head and complain, a short whisper entered his ear.

“Keep your head down."

It was a male Vulpeculan accent and Abel could smell his species' distinct musk trailing from behind the counter.

“Some friends would like to hold a reunion, are you interested? Tap once for yes, tap tw-"

With no hesitation, Abel tapped his finger once.

“Very good," the Vulpeculan hushed, “the TV will tell you where."

Abel focused on the news broadcast.

“...Bern city officials decry the attack..."

“The Bear Pit, you will meet there. We will know when you arrive."

Abel opened his mouth slowly.

“Do not speak and do not raise your head for another minute," the voice harshly whispered again, “long live the Terran Confederacy."

Hushed footsteps echoed a few time before the Vulpeculan seemingly vanished into thin air. When Abel finally lifted his head he found himself alone in the pub, as if the whole incident never happened.

Abel couldn't help but smile at the miraculous turn of events. Just when he felt like he had fallen to the bottom of a pit of despair, someone tossed him a rope.

Idealism was not dead. The Regulians could not kill the ideas that good men and women fought for.

To hell with sucking that cat's cock! To hell with hopelessness!

I'm back in the resistance! Back fighting for a better future, one free of Regulian authority and domination by the seeds of hatred they sowed in humanity.

I'm going to find Glass and shut down his operation.

I'm…

Abel's heart sank a bit and he stared at the last remaining drops in his glass.

I'm an informant.

Pushing the glass away, Abel jumped off of his stool and made his way to the exit. Forcing his feelings into his gut, he continued.

I'll make this work. I'll find a way to redeem myself, hide the resistance, and shut down Glass.

And I will never, ever be a slave.