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At the very bottom of the CattaCatta Tower, under the smooth stone tile of the tower’s ground floor and beneath it, below the musty concrete basement most of the public thought made the tower’s bottom, was a pit with real dirt on its floor. Not the carefully tilled, artificial things that existed in the Atrium or the gardens and greenhouses dotting the tops of towers. Real dirt. Archayon’s flesh. And typically, in this pit, that dirt was soft and damp, slick in places from spilled blood.

Two naked dragons circled each other in the pit—a silence between them. The sleek steel walls of the pit made it difficult to see the seams of the doors they entered from. Above them, a plexiglass ceiling allowed a room full of betting dragons to watch, while cameras broadcasted what happened beyond the lowest floor of this tower. But any sort of drinking, cheering, betting, or revelry stayed separate from the two fighters in the ring.

Lunelei liked that silence. The silver dragon thought it soothing. In Archay, where the buzz of noise felt constant as the pulse of magic, it was serene. He imagined that, before the calamity of the Scarring, the world had real places like this. Lunelei needed only to focus on the sound of his breath and the dragon standing across from him. That other, copper dragon carried scars—places where his bright scales became lines, splotches, and gashes of pale brown—all across his massive frame. Lunelei was on the bigger side of things when it came to dragons: not the tallest or broadest, but the silver dragon stood over six foot and clearly carried the muscle to intimidate most dragons. The copper, who simply went by Nairs, was nearly twice Lunelei’s height—of a size almost certainly caused through surgical intervention. Though, the only clear tell was that Nairs’ head seemed a little too small for his body.

Nairs jabbed a finger at Lunelei and announced for the cameras in the room, “You ready to die, pipsqueak?”

Pageantry. Nairs played a character for most of Archay. The fighting was real, but the only way fighters made money was through tips, subscriptions to their streams, and regular payments by “donors” interested in their character and career.

Lunelei didn’t care much for that. He crouched on the balls of his feet and put his fists up. About ten paces between them, another ten to the wall of the pit. Lunelei told the dragon, “Come try to kill me.”

A war horn—more pageantry—sounded and Nairs charged, perhaps not expecting Lunelei to also spring forward. A second after the horn, Nair swung his fist at Lunelei. The silver couldn’t block, Nairs was simply too big, so Lunelei slid between the copper’s legs to dodge the blow. He wrapped his tail around Nair’s ankle and used both their momentum to tug the massive dragon off his feet. Nairs was no amateur, though, and quickly caught himself with a palm before he sprung off it to face Lunelei. It was the move of a gymnast, which seemed impossible for a body the size of Nairs to do. While he recovered, Lunelei came in again, leaping off the ground with a push of his wings so when Nairs faced him Lunelei’s knee collided into the copper’s snout. A numbing smack of pain in Lunelei’s knee made the silver grunt as Nairs snarled, blood pouring from his crushed snout as he fell backwards again. This time, he landed on his back dazed, and Lunelei landed not far from the wall. He shook off the pain in his knee while Nairs cursed on the dirt.

Lunelei said, “You can always give up, you know.”

“Fucking newbie cunt,” Nairs snarled, now kneeling. A blade thick as a broadsword slid out the top of his hand, just above the knuckles. “I’m going to split you open from slit to skull.”

Nairs confirmed what Lunelei expected. The copper was likely more synthetic than dragon at this point. It’s why Lunelei went for his head, and why he would need to keep going for it. Even if Lunelei tore off Nairs’ arm, it was likely the copper would not feel it.

Nairs lunged, and Lunelei rolled under the arc of his blade. The weapon impacted steel and left a hard dent across it, but Nairs had baited Lunelei. The swing of course was big and obvious. Lunelei only realized the ploy when he rolled into the whip of Nairs’ tail. It smacked Lunelei hard enough to send the silver dragon spinning across the dirt. The pain was a minor concern, but the blow nearly fractured Lunelei’s ribs and left him completely winded. He needed to get his breathing back under control, but as he rolled backward onto his knees he saw Nairs bearing down on him. The bigger dragon had pursued Lunelei across the room, blade extended to impale the silver. Lunelei dove out of the way, quickly backpedaling to avoid another swing.

Lunelei struggled not to cough, needing only a moment to re-center himself. He leapt to the air with his wings and flew to the ceiling to try and get away, but Nairs pursued him into the air. The silver’s eyes widened at the big dragon’s speed, the beat of his wings sounding like sails catching wind. Lunelei managed to juke past another thrust, and that blade shot by him as the silver kicked off Nairs’ stomach back to the ground. Nairs’ fist pounded into the ceiling, puncturing the plexiglass with the blade. It took only a few seconds before Nairs tugged his fist free and dropped into the center of the room, but it was all the time Lunelei needed.

The silver managed to recover enough that he could draw on his magic. Inside the pit, dragons rarely gave each other the chance to channel the energy of the planet, but they could still draw from their body’s energy. So when Nairs charged, roaring, Lunelei set his stance. On Nairs’ next thrust, Lunelei didn’t dodge, but knocked the blow away. When the back of his palm struck the flat of the blade, a blast of magic pitched the thrust away with enough force to snap the steel clean off. When that happened, it made it all too easy to strike Nairs in the diaphragm with a magically charged punch. Lunelei felt ribs snap as those scales caved into his fist before it blew the copper dragon off his feet and onto his back. Panting, and body shaking from exerting his magic like that, Lunelei said, “We’re done.”

Nairs still struggled, both fighting for breath and through some amount of pain. Even with half his body replaced with cybernetics, he still needed to breathe. Lunelei used his magic to recover the broken blade from across the room. It flew quickly into Lunelei’s hand as he stepped across Nairs’ body. He dropped onto the dragon’s broad collarbone, sitting over the dazed dragon’s twisted scowl. Lunelei pushed the tip of the blade against Nairs’ throat. Blood leaked from Lunelei’s hand where the blade sliced into his scales, it dripped onto the struggling copper, but Lunelei remained impassive as he said, “I’m not interested in killing you, Nairs. You’ve got a career and plenty of dragons you still need to snap in half. Surrender.”

Nairs coughed and spat at Lunelei. His voice carried a snarling bite as he said, “I am Nairs… the Undefeated… the Crusher…”

“Become defeated, win your life.”

“Fuck y—” but the descent of a blade splitting open his throat silenced the copper dragon. He had tried to grab Lunelei by the tail, as if the silver dragon wouldn’t be quicker. Lunelei was not gentle, he thrust the blade hard enough to sever Nairs’ spine and push it into the dirt. Pinned to the ground there, his blood soon began to soak into the dirt and join all the others that had fed the pit.

Lunelei sighed and stood up. For a moment, he relished again the near silence of the pit. Then a big steel door opened along the wall and the silver dragon heard the distant chorus of cheering.

***

Money made from fights was cut between the people who ran the pit, with a percentage going to the fighters. If the loser died, all of their current earnings went to the winning fighter. An incentive to always kill your opponent. Nairs was a killer, but Lunelei was not. Of all the fights he’d won, Nairs was the first dragon Lunelei killed. He really had no choice; Nairs could keep going and going while Lunelei’s body already ached from the exertion of the magic he used.

Sitting back in a chair on a tramcar, the silver dragon’s body still ached. A consistent, feverish throb of pain that begged rest. Out the window, the lower levels of Archay were smothered in the dusty artificial lights of the sprawl, which stayed on even during the daytime here. Sunlight rarely reached the floor of the sprawl. It was said if dragons caught a flash of sunlight on Archay’s bottom level that it was good luck for the next year. The tram car ran a circuit between multiple towers, each tower a city unto themselves, with tracks and bridges connecting them across multiple levels. The silver dragon quietly sat in unassuming black shirt and pants. No jewelry or affectations, no piercings. He had no hair on his scalp, instead having opted to remove it before the fights of the pit. His horns, Lunelei was often told, matched the queen’s in their shape. Another thing said to carry good luck for dragons born with them.

Lunelei flipped over a small thumb drive between his fingers. The sleek plastic casing was unmarked and unremarkable. Lunelei’s manager gave it to him while Lunelei saw a mender to take care of his bruised ribs. The manager, a dragon who went by Kisk, bought out Lunelei’s previous manager for a hefty price only a month ago

“You did good against the Crusher,” Kisk had told him, which Lunelei had scoffed at.

“Seemed like you were trying to kill me.”

“Testing you. Wanted to see which was better, the undefeated veteran or the undefeated rising star.”

“Did I pass?”

That’s when Kisk had handed Lunelei the thumb drive. “Not quite. My employers want to offer you a job, though. Outside the pit, another test. It’ll pay good, I promise.”

So Lunelei took it. Kisk was the type of dragon who didn’t have a last name or any way to identify himself, but seemed to have his claws in a lot of different places. Lunelei liked that about him—it was why the silver dragon tried to get his attention in the first place.

Lunelei paid extra for a corner apartment in his residential arcology. He lived in the BetaSar Tower, halfway across the sprawl from CattaCatta. Most dragons who lived there worked in the food synthesizing farms that employed the bulk of the tower and fed large chunks of the sprawl. Because of the farms, the tower stank like air oxidized from a lightning strike.

Lunelei’s studio had a window view set so he could see into the sprawl, but other dragons could not look into his apartment. That large, transparent wall was partially blocked with a desk and bed. The desk itself was made of plastic and glass, and kept a constant whir from the fans cooling the processors fit inside it. It was both furniture and supercomputer. The sort of thing most pit fighters didn’t invest their money in. When the door to his apartment slid shut, he heard a familiar voice chime, “Welcome home, Lune.”

The voice was soft and androgynous, a match to Lunelei’s own, only this one carried a synthetic undertone to it.

“Evening Mauren,” Lunelei said while he stripped off his clothes. Mauren was the A.I. that the desk powered. She was connected to the rest of the room by several cameras and scanners that monitored things Lunelei might not notice. Including the silver dragon’s own health.

“You seem unharmed. The fight go well?”

“Of course,” Lunelei said.

“Your oxytocin levels are still low, however—”

“Quit it, Mauren.”

“Regulating your health is one of my core programming functions. My scanners detect you are clearly depressed and—”

“I’ll tend to those needs after I’m done working,” Lunelei said. “I’m not going to jump wings bound off a tower anytime soon.” The silver dragon, now nude, slid the thumb drive into a slot on the desk. “Examine this for me, will you?”

That shut the A.I. up for a moment. Lunelei faced the sliding mirror door to his closet. Mauren wasn’t wrong; even without methods to track his brainwaves, Lunelei’s constant dour expression told anyone his mood. But the familiar aching weight in Lunelei’s chest only hurt when the dragon let himself be still. Long as he kept working he would be fine. Lunelei traced a finger down his diaphragm to his waist, admiring the soft touch of his claw across scale for a moment before Mauren spoke up, “You pretend that you do not need it, but I will schedule you an appointment at a brothel.”

Lunelei growled and spun on a camera hanging in a corner of the room. “Just tell me what was on the drive.”

“Very well,” the A.I. said, “What do you wish to know first?”

“The data Kisk wanted me to read, then whatever you can get off its shell and what other sources it’s interfaced with.”

“In summary: Kisk wishes to hire you for a raid. You are to be armed and sent as muscle for breaking into a high security facility. The drive contains a location in PelTar Tower for you to meet with your employer before being taken to the facility. You may bring any weapons of personal preference, but Kisk can also see to you being outfitted. Judging by the neutral language used, they composed this message for either you or Nairs. A prize for whoever won your fight.”

“Psh, the job must be loud if they considered hiring a dragon like Nairs for it.”

“Indeed. As for the drive itself, it is a disposable unit that was bought at an electronics outlet in CattaCatta. The purchase was made today, and the message was uploaded from an anonymous server within the tower.”

Lunelei sighed and sat back on his bed. He nestled up to the wall and rested his horns against it. The pressure it put on his skull helped him think. Outside, the sprawl buzzed like a hive, and the vibrations of the noisy metropolis traveled through the wall and down his horns. Mauren waited patiently for Lunelei to eventually exhale loudly and lean forward. “You think this is the one, Mauren?”

“The probability is high. I have no data on a Kisk, so it is possible you are ingratiating yourself with one of Archay’s crime families.”

“We’ll find out soon enough. If it’s not Archayon’s Phoenix, though, it means we screwed something up and will need to start over.”

“I’m sure your deductions are correct,” Mauren told him.

“Hmph, you’re basing that on nothing and are saying it to reassure me, but thanks anyways.”

“It is my duty as your mental health companion to do so.”

Mauren took up that role of her own accord. The longer the A.I. lived the more it learned from the net and developed her own personality. In the last month, she had come to the conclusion that, until he no longer needed to, she would be Lunelei’s companion till the dragon adjusted his priorities. Lunelei found the notion amusing. Plenty of rich dragons were able to afford synthetic companions with an organic layer of scales to even stimulate real touch among other real stimulations. But Mauren had only her voice to offer companionship. Lunelei considered resetting Mauren a few times just so she would stop pestering the silver dragon so much, but he was genuinely curious just how much more of a personality Mauren might develop.

Lunelei lay back onto his bed and said to the ceiling, “Mauren?”

“Yes Lune?”

“What are those pests in the royal palace up to?”

“You have referred to many dragons in the royal palace as pests—”

“Fine, start with the heir. First whatever is in the news, then the data links we have hacked in the palace. I want to know how soon until the prince finally gets permission to meddle in Earth’s affairs.”

“You always ask first about the prince. Is that a preference I should consider when I make your brothel appointment?”

“Just give me a report before I reset you, you sorry excuse for a calculator.”

***

Mephis’ office in the palace sat at one end of the thirtieth floor. It was a room with a clear view of the ocean and walls that could be made transparent at a command from his desk. Right now the walls were an opaque grey, masking the hustle outside his office. They’d just held a full council meeting, with the representatives of every tower in attendance to finalize the vote for Prince Chisur’s diplomatic mission to Earth. It was a major decision that, frankly, took months of legwork for Mephis to accomplish.

And now, he just needed a moment to collect himself before his clerks whisked him to his next meeting. He sat back in the large leather chair behind his desk, letting out a sigh and toying with the tassels of the ceremonial gown he wore. It was crimson with gold accents to reflect the royal line, and emblazoned on its front in black was the symbol of a heron-like bird breaking free from the surface of water: the logo for the CattaCatta Tower he represented.

Mephis perhaps enjoyed a few seconds of solitude before the door across from his desk slid open. The albino dragon jumped up, alarmed until the door slid close and Chisur materialized in the middle of the room. The dragon was smaller in size than the seven foot tall albino dragon, who smiled when he saw that only his mate interrupted his quiet.

“I’m sorry for barging in but—”

Mephis wrapped the prince in a hug. “Nonsense, you’re always a welcome intrusion, my prince.” Mephis drew back and kissed Chisur’s hand.

“I will never get you to call me by my name, will I?”

Mephis’ hand stroked down his side, squeezing Chisur’s waist as he said, “I just like to remind myself of what I have, that’s all. Not many representatives can say they share a bed with the heir of Archay.”

Chisur murred and kissed Mephis on the lips. It was a tender, brief exchange before Chisur nuzzled his cheek and said, “You were quite the sight in council today. They’ll likely credit your speech for why the resolution passed.”

Mephis chuckled. “Impressive rhetoric for the cameras, maybe. Everything got decided with bargains I made behind closed doors.”

“As good at striking a deal as giving a speech.”

Mephis shrugged. “Being the biggest dragon in any room makes it pretty easy to intimidate others into what you want.”

“You? Intimidating?” Chisur asked, prodding Mephis’ slight gut. “You’re a complete softie.”

“Says you,” Mephis growled. He kissed Chisur more deeply this time, leaning the prince back a bit.

Chisur’s hands cupped Mephis’ cheeks and he drew back to quickly utter, “How much time do you have?”

“Mmm, ten minutes maybe?”

Chisur’s growl almost came out a whine. “I won’t be able to take you’re knot, but that’s fine.”

Mephis’ husky laugh in the prince’s ear made the red dragon shudder. “So that’s why you visited my office.”

One of Chisur’s hands rubbed against Mephis crotch through his gown. “Seeing you in your element got me hot. Kyle, too, but he’s not here. Think you can fuck me hard enough for the both of us?”

Mephis murred and groped Chisur’s backside while the prince undid the strings lacing up Mephis gown from the back. The clothing slid from Mephis’ shoulders, and pooled onto the ground while the two locked lips again. Their muzzles opened and the prince’s delectable, oversized tongue slid into Mephis’ mouth. The large, dexterous appendage made the albino dragon groan as it completely filled his muzzle. Already his cock peaked from his slit, the throbbing pink tip glistening as the prince rubbed the spaded head with his palm. Ruby red fingers dipped lower and teased into Mephis’ vent, groping the base of his cock and making the bigger dragon roll his hips forward. More of his draconic spire spilled into Chisur’s waiting palm, smearing the scales in the musky oils of Mephis’ slit. He throbbed and ached; soon pre spilled across Chisur’s forearm and still the prince teased inside his slit till he felt the beginning swell of a knot.

Fully aroused, Chisur broke the kiss, looking down and growling, letting Mephis slick cock rub against his firm belly. The prince wore an open shirt and pants that clung to his legs and outlined his muscular form and round, firm ass. It was not something Mephis had noticed before they started seeing each other like this, only ever imagining bottoming for Chisur. But the prince knew how to draw out the big albino’s more dominant side. He huffed as Chisur asked, “How do you want to take me?”

“On my desk,” Mephis said before he showed his considerable size and strength, lifting the prince by his waist and sitting him on the desk. Chisur threw off his shirt while Mephis tore away his pants. Once that was gone, Mephis grabbed Chisur by the hips and pulled him down so his bottom half hung off the desk. The albino dragon crouched down and pushed his muzzle against Chisur’s slit. He inhaled his mate’s strong, draconic musk. A familiar warmth filled Mephis’ chest. He pushed his tongue into Chisur’s slit and shivered at the more heady flavor there. The musk grew stronger as he teased around the black cock, more doing it to savor the taste of his prince than to draw out Chisur’s pleasure. Still, the ebon cock came glistening from Chisur’s slit, rubbing against Mephis’ snout as his tongue slithered inside his mate. Chisur squirmed and gripped the edge of the desk while Mephis worked.

Eventually Mephis freed his tongue and kissed lower. He spread his mate’s cheeks, the scales yielding but firm beneath Mephis’ thumbs as he revealed Chisur’s rim. The flesh there was tantalizingly soft when Mephis kissed it. The bigger dragon murred as the pleasing, scent of his mate’s entrance rubbed against his muzzle. He licked around the rim, wetting the golden scales around that smooth flesh. Mephis wriggled his tongue into Chisur’s entrance. The prince above him gasped as tongue now lapped inside him, pumping in and out to tease his entrance. Mephis pushed spit inside his prince, readying the ring of muscle before he withdrew his tongue and replaced it with two large, white fingers. He spat on them and thrust both inside Chisur. The prince hissed and slapped his tail against the ground. Mephis nipped the base of Chisur’s tail in teasing response, pressing his fingers in to the knuckle before curling them upward to a firm mass against Chisur’s otherwise silky walls. The prince’s moan made Mephis murr before he started pumping both fingers in and out. Chisur clenched spasmodically down on the digits when they knocked against his prostate, but it did nothing to slow the treatment Mephis gave him. Soon, the usually dominant prince whined and mewled for the albino dragon as he pumped his fingers and licked up to Chisur’s cock. The black tower of flesh was more endowed than Mephis’ own, and already had spilled a thick line of pre cum onto the prince’s golden belly. Mephis took it beneath his tail enough times to know his prince knew how to use it, but right now the prince looked pained as he met the albino dragon’s red eyes and pleaded, “Mephis… fuck please… we don’t have much time.”

Mephis answered him with a growl as he stood and grabbed Chisur’s legs to spread them. “Think you can be quiet?”

Huffing, Chisur asked, “That’s… part of the fun… right?”

Mephis only answered Chisur with a smirk as he lined his cocktip to Chisur’s entrance, which was wet and loose, a little puffy from use. The preparation plus the natural lubricants of their cocks made it easy to push inside his prince. Watching that pink shaft press Chisur’s rim inward was almost as satisfying as the silky warmth of the prince’s walls—that pliable inner flesh almost a little too tight. Mephis shut his eyes and enjoyed the sensation, slowly sawing more and more of his cock into Archay’s next ruler. Hearing him struggle for breath against the strain of taking Mephis’ cock was exquisite. Chisur would only be a subby slut for him, and Mephis loved that. The way those walls milked and encouraged him, even as the ring of muscle at Chisur’s entrance struggled to yawn around the pink spire splitting it open. Chisur bit down on his hand to keep from groaning.

When Mephis hilted inside his prince, there was a satisfying bulge at that golden navel. Chisur released his hand and gasped for breath. Mephis murred, rubbing along his prince’s inner thighs while he let Chisur adjust to his girth.

“Ready?”

Chisur only nodded, then groaned when Mephis started to pull out. Ten inches of draconic cock slid from the prince before Mephis slammed back forward, smacking his slit wetly against Chisur’s entrance, his knot not quite out yet. The prince’s claws scratched across the glass pane of Mephis’ desk. Mephis refused to give Chisur a break, and started working his hips. Those walls clamped down on each hilting thrust. The albino’s soft pink wings unfolded a little as he pounded Chisur’s ass. The desk rocked some, and Chisur’s black cock smacked against his stomach, leaking strings of pre across his golden scales. The prince threw his head back and whimpered and cursed quietly. He struggled to keep quiet. The two had not gone public with their relationship, and really could not afford to get caught fucking in Mephis office.

Which is why when there was a knock on the door the big albino dragon froze, hilted deep inside his mate. A small dragoness, his assistant said behind him, “Mephis?”

Mephis made to turn around, but Chisur grabbed his elbow. The prince said, “She can’t see or hear us. She thinks she’s looking into an empty office right now.”

Mephis eyes went wide and he hissed, “What do we do?” He supposed, dating one of the most skilled mages in the world had its advantages.

“Finish fucking me.”

“With my assistant—”

Chisur’s interior clenched around the length of Mephis’ shaft and made the dragon shiver. “Yes!”

Mephis’ assistant left the door open while she went asking for Mephis. Through the doorway, the open floor had clerks and interns buzzing about, any one of them able to look in and see the two dragons fucking if not for Chisur’s illusion spell. That new exposure did make Mephis more aroused. Chisur felt it, too, grabbing his ass and spreading it before he begged, “Come on Mephis, fuck me—I’m so close.”

Mephis pounded Chisur’s ass, and now, with the spell in place, the prince moaned loudly into the office. Loud enough dragons might hear him even with the door closed. But the two didn’t care. Mephis ploughed his prince, stirring up his hole and making it feel sloppy and loose. Mephis own pre cum made the work slick and wet at this point. He might as well be breeding a cunt for how desperately he fucked his prince. And by the Queen, the sudden image of Chisur gravid strangely pushed Mephis over the edge. He hilted the prince to his knot, leaning over and biting hard into his shoulder, thinking how nice those golden scales would look swollen with his young, the prince his submissive slut and—fuck…

His knot ached against Chisur’s entrance, but Mephis did not try to force it in. Instead he snarled around Chisur’s wounded shoulder while thick gouts of cum filled the prince. Chisur whined and moaned rakishly beneath him, stroking his cock only for a few seconds before Mephis felt the throbbing ebon spire between them start to spill sticky, hot cum against their scales. It was so reckless. The door was still open, and Mephis was flooding the prince with enough draconic seed that it pushed out around Mephis’ shaft and dripped down Chisur’s tail. All while the prince coated them both in his own musky, hot cum. Spunk spilled across the desk and ran messily on the floor. Chisur pulled Mephis off his bleeding shoulder so that the two could join in a tender kiss. Chisur bucked his hips upward, rubbing his cock between them to draw his orgasm out just a little longer.

When they broke the kiss, panting and a bit winded, Chisur said, “Fuck… that was good… I need to remember to use that spell more.”

Mephis nuzzled into Chisur’s shoulder. “Think of the tabloids, knowing someone in the royal family was going out to bed his mates in public.”

“I mean, this story alone should give you all the attention you need.” Mephis’ assistant said. The lavender colored dragoness sat against the desk, arms folded and looking down right at the two of them.

“Velina! You—”

“I only needed to take a few steps inside to see you. And hear you. And smell you. Seems you keep some high company, Mephis.”

Chisur hugged Mephis a little sheepishly. “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”

“Only because I just found the easiest pay raise in all of Archay,” the little dragoness told them both with a clear threat.

Mephis had seemingly taken up Chisur’s political projects of his own accord, so the two of them caught fucking would be enough of a scandal to make the council consider recasting their vote. Mephis’ assistant knew that, and they knew that.

Mephis said, “How about you shut the door and we’ll clean up and negotiate something?”

“Oh, I look forward to it,” Velina said before she glanced at Chisur, “Pleasure to meet you, my lord.”

***

A loud pop, like an exhaust backfiring or a gun going off, snapped through the apartment and woke Casey with a startled yell. The thin human sat up sweating in bed, certain he heard something. It was still dark, and the only light came from his phone blinking some kind of notification at him from his nightstand. Casey grabbed his glasses and slipped them on before reaching behind the bed for an old aluminum softball bat. He flipped on the light to his room and waited at the door a moment, listening for anyone lurking in his apartment.

Nothing stirred, then a fist pounded on his door. Casey flinched, and, squeezing the bat tighter, entered the living room of his one bedroom apartment and saw no one pounced on him. Casey went to the door, dressed only in a nightshirt and boxers when he undid the bolt but left the chain in place.

He opened the door a crack and saw Damien on the other side say, “Yo Casey, you hear that?”

“Yeah, just a sec, man.” Casey undid the chain and opened the door all the way, bat placed to the side. Damien wore a set of pajamas his wife gave him with sailboats on it. He remembered Damien loudly complaining upon opening the gift at the Christmas party they invited Casey to last winter.

His neighbor hugged Casey with a hard slap on Casey’s back before he said, “Thank God you’re okay. It sounded like a gun went off in your apartment—I was worried I’d find you with head blown off and I’d have to call the fucking cops.”

Casey sheepishly returned the hug before Damien let him go. “Uh, thanks for being worried about me. But I’m not that—”

Damien gave him a look.

“Alright, alright, maybe I am, but I’m getting help, okay Damien? Got myself a therapist last month, you know? I told Charisse about it, she not tell you?”

“Nah, I knew, but how’m I supposed to trust you. You don’t own a gun, right?”

“I may be messed up but I’m not stupid, dude,” Casey said.

“Then what the fuck was that noise?”

“Maybe the neighbors upstairs?” Casey said, pointing at the ceiling.

“Man I hope so. You know someone’s gonna call the cops after hearing that, and the last thing I need is one knocking on my door asking a black man about a gun going off.”

“Word. You get the knock, text me and I’ll come out same time as you do, alright?”

“You’re a real one, Casey,” Damien said again before he hugged his friend.

“Thanks, you two have a goodnight, now.”

Damien nodded and the two parted ways. Casey shut the door and leaned against it, sighing. Good of Damien to check on him—the interaction probably saved Casey from a panic attack.

Almost. That anxiety returned when he looked up into the living room and noticed it on the couch. It was the size of an old typewriter, but resembled a tube television with a keypad in front of it. It was sleek and silver and the screen carried a backlit message that said, “Greetings from the planet Archayon!”

Reluctantly, Casey went to the thing and touched it. “What the actual fuck?” he whispered as he ran his fingers across the smooth surface of the device. Was this some kind of twisted prank? Did someone break into his apartment and leave this? Did Damien? Someone trying to make him more paranoid than he already was?—no Casey. Calm down, don’t let the anxiety disorder rule your thoughts. After the gunshot noise, he needed to breathe. He looked at the clock on the microwave of his walk-in kitchen and saw it was 4:30 in the morning.

He sighed, knowing he would be awake in an hour anyways, he went back to his bedroom to take a shower. He could relax his brain and then figure out what the fuck was going on in his apartment.

***

It surprised Jerawk how serene he felt when recording the broadcast for Earth. A day after the council passed the diplomatic measure, with Jerawk named as the appointed ambassador, they went to the Atrium to record the message. They walked through the large, open air ground floor of the palace with a camera crew in tow. He was thankful he needed to not lead anything, just walk by Kyle and Chisur’s side while a video director took care of the specifics. The dragon in question was a gaudy shimmer of scales, looking like bismuth as he directed Jerawk where to stand, coached him through posture and what facial expressions to use. It went by very quickly. The speech took a few minutes to give, while in the background the towers of the sprawl stood and dragons wandered about the large central road that bisected the Atrium. They already recorded the voiceover for when the instructions on how to use the ansibles and the b-roll showing and explaining Kyle came up in the video. He didn’t need to worry about editing the broadcast or writing the script, he just needed to be a friendly little dragon who spoke for a nation to an alien world. Not exactly simple, but the reassuring presence of his mates made everyone pass through the affair with ease. Jerawk didn’t make any mistakes, but they did several takes just for good measure. The crew left and the three dragons opted to linger in the Atrium.

They walked a garden path just big enough for all three to be side by side, with Jerawk in the middle clasping both his mates’ hands. Along the path, dark, violet-barked trees grew in twisted pairs with long, thick leaves. Chisur was telling Jerawk about his gaff at Mephis’ office, which Jerawk already received from Kyle, but the prince knew the little yellow and striped dragon liked hearing things directly from the prince.

“So Velina wanted her salary doubled to stay quiet? Seems she could have asked for a lot more,” Jerawk said. “Seeing how you were dripping, my prince.”

Chisur bumped Jerawk’s side with his hip. “Don’t tease Mephis. He’s still so mortified he’s having trouble talking to me in public.”

Jerawk snickered a little. “If you two just came out with it months ago you wouldn’t even need to be in this predicament.”

Chisur sighed. “It was his decision, not ours.”

“He’s so so worried about his image,” Kyle added. “Velina seemed good spirited about the whole thing, though. I bet she wouldn’t have even needed the money, just the satisfaction of teasing Mephis gave her a thrill.” Kyle spoke as if he was there, and well, with his tether to Chisur, Jerawk supposed Kyle was.

Jerawk watched their shadows walk ahead of them down the path. That thought of Kyle being there with Chisur stirred a strange longing in Jerawk. A feeling he wrestled with for months now but refused to name. He’d known Chisur for most their lives—as his previous attendant, Jerawk had been with the prince since he was a child. And in the span of a year Kyle knew Chisur deeper—they both knew each other deeper than…

“Something wrong, Jerawk?” Chisur asked.

“Huh, oh no. Just lost in thought.” Jerawk kept watching their joined shadows, keenly aware that somehow things passed literally above Jerawk’s head between his two mates.

Kyle squeezed his hand. “What’s on your mind?”

Jerawk had a lie ready for them both. “Thinking of next steps. Just mulling them over in my head. Really there’s not a whole lot for me to do until I visit Earth.”

“Well, aside from monitor all the communications made between all the ansibles we sent out,” Kyle teased. Most of that work would be handled by an A.I. that was scripted for certain responses and to build out a diplomatic envoy to whatever nations seemed most receptive to an actual visit. Jerawk, along with a few other career diplomats, would oversee what the A.I. managed and make sure to put in their own voice where necessary.

Really what he’d do until he visited Earth was walk meandering paths in the Atrium. Bounce Eska on his lap. Read more stories online about how shameful it was for a lowly attendant without a surname to be given such an official title. Damn was he troubled by all this. And was it jealousy he felt towards his mates? And if so who? Towards Chisur for being closer to Kyle or Kyle for being closer to Chisur? Chisur, who Jerawk knew all his life. Kyle, who they confirmed today, already carried Jerawk’s young. There was so much to celebrate and yet…

“I suppose it’s just a different kind of babysitting from what I used to do with Chisur,” Jerawk finally answered.

The prince scoffed and Kyle giggled a little.

“That’s one way to think of it,” Kyle said. “You can lecture humans about not caring enough about themselves.”

“Hey, I’m better about that now,” Chisur said, tail reaching across Jerawk’s to swat Kyle’s side.

Jerawk laughed a little despite his mood. Perhaps it was just a moment of doubt. He tugged both dragons closer just to feel the touch of their scales. That was enough to make him push past his gloom and focus back on the present with them.

***

Casey held a bar to steady himself while he rode the Metro train home. Most people, like him, stared at their phones. Some talked to each other, but everything seemed focused on the video broadcasted a few hours ago. It showed up as a video message on his phone with the insistence of an emergency alert, and then a barrage of texts from his friends and family asking if Casey got it too. He had. Casey rewatched it, his hand a little clammy on the metal bar as an alien—a dragon—introduced himself to their world.

Getting off the train, the audio of the video played in Casey’s headphones while he walked out of the subway and the last couple blocks to his apartment complex. It went over instructions for how to work the ansible again, which when Casey saw it displayed on the video for the first time he cursed so loud it turned heads at the library he worked at. Then the dragon, Jerawk, talked about the human on their side of something called the Tether. “Kyle Reed,” Casey whispered, feeling a strange pit in his stomach while he walked. According to Jerawk, Kyle was taken to their world to save him from an accident, then Kyle chose to stay. He worked with the prince on diplomatic stuff and research—how Kyle ended up working with a prince was never explained.

“Kyle Reed,” he muttered again at the door to his apartment complex. He knew a boy named that in high school, years and years ago when Casey went by Cassandra and he still lived on the west coast. He and Kyle had been friends: two closeted teenagers, one trans and the other gay. Kyle’s parents found out about him and kicked him out onto the streets, and Casey never heard from him again. There were so many goddamn Kyles in this country, it could have been anyone who went missing a year ago. Casey did learn from twitter that the accident had happened, and a Kyle did go missing. As far as anyone knew, this was either the most elaborate conspiracy ever or first contact with alien life. People seemed split on which they would prefer. One tweet stood out to him, a simple, “I, for one, welcome our new dragon overlords.”

Invasion seemed a scary thought, but also if they wanted that they’d have just invaded right? No warning. Just laser guns or whatever it was they wielded for weapons there.

Inside his apartment, Casey’s gaze returned to the ansible. He dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and took off his jacket, tossing it on the couch before he grabbed the strange device. It weighed about as much as a jug of water. Casey carried it over to the small, thrifted dining table in the corner of his apartment and set it down next to a stack of unopened envelopes, most of which were ads for credit cards. He thought a lot about what the fuck he should do with this thing while at work. He could call the cops, but how the fuck was that phone call supposed to go? Also Casey hated dealing with cops. Dropping it off somewhere behind a dumpster seemed irresponsible. Telling anyone about it meant he could get in trouble with someone. He wasn’t sure where this thing was meant to go, but Casey was sure it was not meant for him.

Then there was the simple fact he could just use it. What would the dragons do? Tell on him? Maybe Casey could convince them to pick him up. He bet their weird sci-fi world was easier to live in than this one. It was an amusing fantasy to think of, at least.

The ansible had only one function and that was to be a messaging client. No emojis or stickers, no links or images to copy into chat. Just text. The keys on the keyboard were a QWERTY, so Casey assumed they at least sent this one to the right country. He sighed and started typing, deleting several different responses to “Greetings from the planet Archayon!” before he settled on something.

Yo, anyone on the other side of this?

Greetings from the planet Archayon!

Yeah I got that.

I am an A.I. assistant named Teneer. It is nice to meet you.

Fuck, did they really have me talk to a bot? Casey thought. They replaced the job of a friend of his a year ago with a bot that handled help questions for the library’s chat client. His friend was still looking for a decent job.

May I ask what is your name and who you represent?

Casey, from the nation of Casey.

Greetings from the planet Archayon, Casey!

Fuck off. Casey smiled and idly checked for any messages on his phone. At the very least trolling a bot from an alien world could be fun.

Teneer wrote back, I do not understand.

Teneer, what is love?

I am here to answer any questions about Archayon and facilitate a dialogue between you and my leaders.

Let me talk to Kyle Reed.

Kyle Reed: mate to Prince Chisur Archay, and a hero who saved the royal family and palace from a terrorist attack during the Summer Solstice Ball. During that attack he was severely wounded and his body had to be altered magically to recover. He chose to become a dragon and has lived the last year with Prince Chisur, heir to Archay’s throne.

Casey gaped. Jerawk’s broadcast mentioned none of that.

Finding his words again, he said, Is this for real?

I do not understand, Casey.

Casey rolled his eyes. He needed to think of some other way to ask what he wanted. Even good bots didn’t think sideways like real people did. Teneer, in Jerawk’s video to Earth he didn’t mention any of the stuff about Kyle that you just told me. Why is that?

It was deemed too fantastical to share publicly. We purposefully kept discussions dealing with magic out of the video.

But sharing that stuff here is fine?

You would not talk with me if you were willing to learn more.

Damn, the bot got him there.

The bot added: My word is the only proof I can offer for what happened to Kyle Reed. A basic ansible cannot transmit any sort of video evidence. Communication through the Tether is difficult.

I get it, I get it. What is your goal?

To establish diplomatic communication with Earth. Our planets share a bond, there is no reason we should not.

Casey thought about that answer for a moment. The question of Kyle still teased at the back of his head. Any chance I can speak to Kyle? I used to know a guy like him in high school. I’m just curious if it’s the same one.

That is not likely. Only Jerawk may give permission to speak to someone not a part of our diplomatic envoy.

Can I talk to Jerawk, then?

If you feel you’ve learned enough about Archayon to discuss establishing more firm diplomatic relations such as an embassy.

Uh… yeah, I guess the nation of Casey is down to fuck.

Excellent! I will send a priority bulletin to Jerawk right away. Casey, your nation, the Nation of Casey, is the first country to respond positively to our efforts. Thank you for being the first to join us on the path to diplomatic unity.

Casey snickered a little. Regardless what happened, he was too deep in on his trolling to hang up now.

***

Jerawk chose not to stay at Chisur’s suite that night. Kissing his mates goodbye, he walked back to his apartment, which was still squared away with the rest of the palace attendants in the TorVah Tower adjacent to the massive ziggurat. Massive, Jerawk supposed, if not compared to the tower which climbed even higher.

The small dragon was making his way through the Atrium, failing to not brood over Kyle and Chisur, when he felt something vibrate against his chest. Rather than the skirt and shawl he used to wear as an attendant, the yellow dragon now wore a tailored sleeveless shirt made of synthetic silk. It was the same night-time violet of his stripes. With it he wore a black skirt cut so the hem went across his thighs at an acute angle, nearly leaving the left side of his hips and butt exposed while it covered his right side to the knee.

He retrieved his phone from his pocket: a sturdy plastic strip that seemed transparent until a touch of magic made its display light up. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Teneer’s priority alert. He could technically put it off or redirect it to whichever dragon worked in the Lower Warrens monitoring the communication logs right now, but Jerawk chose to open the message. Work meant distraction from his troubles, which he needed right now.

In it, Jerawk saw Teneer’s message log with Casey. The little dragon cursed. They would need to work on Teneer’s A.I. some, especially if an ansible ended up in the wrong hands like it so clearly had here.

The dragon’s claws ticked quickly across the phone’s screen. He tried to be polite, lest this person record the conversation somehow in order to make Archayon look foolish.

Greetings, Casey. I assume you are not actually a representative of a country named after yourself?

Hey man, my body is my body.

Excuse me? Jerawk growled quietly. It felt good to turn his negative feelings into anger at something.

Sorry, it was a dumb joke. It had to be, Jerawk had no clue what Casey meant. Anyways, am I actually speaking to Jerawk?

Do you want me to tell you what love is?

Lol. Jerawk’s tail whipped behind him as he tried to decipher what that meant. He didn’t need to wait long for Casey to type, I’m not supposed to have this am I?

Obviously. He checked the registry on the ansible number that Casey communicated through. It was one of the two they sent to the capital of the United States. They sent two to each location because they were certain that if some governments only had one they would opt to take the ansible apart to try and learn something about it instead of using it for its intended purpose.

There is not much we can do about you having it, Jerawk said. What will you do?

Hold onto it. I figure I can either get rid of it in secret or keep it my secret. If I tell anyone I’m pretty sure it will only bring trouble.

An idea occurred to Jerawk, he stopped in the middle of the Atrium, staring out into the sprawl while he turned it over in his head. Eventually he started walking again and typed, You should keep it.

Really?

Yes, I’m going to set this ansible to forward things to my phone.

Aww, no more Teneer :‘(

No. I’m supposed to be an ambassador for a whole planet. The way I see it, countries are going to cherry pick what they tell us. You seem… not trustworthy but… like you’re okay not following the rules.

Fuck cops.

I’m not sure what you mean by that but okay.

It means I’m cool B)

Jerawk shook his head. Getting used to talking to Casey would clearly be its own work. I’m going to keep this a secret between us. I’ll delete Teneer’s logs and it will be assumed this ansible got destroyed somehow. But really you’re going to be my secret weapon.

Ohhhh I like this. Jerawk’s dirty little secret ;-)

Jerawk ignored the comment and added. It’ll be a trade. You get to keep your contact to an alien world, and I’ll have an outside opinion on how Earth sees us.

Folks are losing their minds, dude.

We expected as much.

I, for one, welcome our new dragon overlords.

What?

Sorry, it’s a Simpsons joke I stole from twitter. I’ll get you caught up on all the dope memes, Jerawk, don’t worry. Can you answer me one question, though?

I can try.

Tell me more about Kyle Reed?