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“This is it.”

Abel’s hushed whisper floated off into the wind that breezed towards the small town. The homes were little more than wooden cabins with glowing orange windows in the dead of night but there were power lines strung around the village and satellite dishes on the side of buildings that were barely visible from here, so it would have exactly what Abel needed.

This was what he was searching for all along, wasn’t it? A way back in contact with Brolath, a way back into the clandestine world of espionage.

But it wasn’t what he wanted now.

Turned around, Abel saw Lashar and Asha removed their camouflaged hoods, making their scaled heads, black and green, seem to appear out of thin air.

“We knew it couldn’t last forever,” Asha said, lowering his head. It was the strongest overt form of body language Abel had seen from the Lacertans since meeting them, aside from the particular body language they had mustered while resting in the dacha naked.

“Ah, come on!” Lashar stepped forward and slapped Abel on the shoulder. “Lets think of the good times we had, not what we’re losing! We all die someday!”

It was only logical to think that way, wasn’t it? But still, Abel could not muster up that kind of logical control over his emotions and he could tell the Lacertans were not succeeding either.

“Logos would not be happy with you two right now,” Abel forced a smile. “I can tell you’re just as upset as I am.”

Lashar and Asha both went rigid.

“How could you tell?” Asha asked.

“I’ve learned a thing or two about Lacertans since we met,” Abel’s eyes began to water. “I can tell. I think it’s very sweet of you...”

Looking away, Abel wiped away a tear.

Brave Abel, the revolutionary. Crying after saying goodbye to some aliens he slept with, an intrusive thought assaulted Abel’s mind.

Fuck off, Abel fired back in his head. I’m fighting for true freedom and I don’t give a shit what others think.

As much as Abel wanted to stay, sooner or later judgment would catch up with them. They might be able to avoid the Regulians for a time, but sooner or later they would find them, or some of the local rebels who aren’t keen on aliens.

At the very least, Abel could play a role in stopping the latter by continuing with his mission.

Abel walked up to Lashar and cupped his palms around the side of his face, drawing him in closer while the Lacertan lowered his muzzle. Abel pressed his lips against the bridge of his snout, rolling his skin along the smooth scales before giving him a gentle kiss.

“You put me at ease and made me laugh,” Abel whispered.

Stepping away from Lashar, Abel repeated the motions for the larger of the two, being careful not to cut his lip on Asha’s horns. Asha’s scales were rougher, but still smooth and cool, relaxing to the touch.

“You’re cute when you’re serious,” Abel whispered.

Finally, Abel turned away from both of them. His heart told him to stay but his brain reminded him that he had a job to do and he could not do it with them. He had to leave the Lacertans he had grown fond of behind and he rip the band-aid off and leave immediately, before it became harder.

Leave things unsaid.

Abel took one step away and then another, regret aching in his chest.

Fuck it.

Abel spun around, blushing and sweating, and gasped.

“I love you both!”

Spinning back around with his eyes watering, Abel set off towards the town as Asha and Lashar returned his proclamations.

“We love you too, Abel.”

Abel turned around one last time and nodded at the two Lacertans right before they put their hoods back up and vanished from sight.

Saying those last words took a bit of a weight off Abel’s heart, but only a bit. It was better to say these things, lest they never meet again, but it still hurt.

Though it was hard to merely accept Lashar’s recommendation, it was the truth. It was better to focus on having had a magical experience with beings far from the other side of the galaxy and exchanged friendship, love, and sex.

The latter of which was one of the biggest crimes you could commit in Regulian space.

The tears had begun to dry up when Abel stepped on the dirt road leading into town. There was dust in the air, similar to the early days of Regulian occupation before the Regulians worked to help filter out the dust they had kicked up with their orbital bombardments.

A mining town, perhaps?

The few local residents out this late, all human, stared at Abel as he walked along the main road towards the center of town. He smiled and waved at them, but they did not wave back.

“Extranet? WiFi?” Abel said in Regulian and then repeated in English.

One old man who was sipping tea in his front yard pointed down the road towards a building that had a sign in Cyrillic. It looked like some kind of tavern or a cafe.

“Thanks!” Abel nodded.

The old man mumbled something in Russian and took a sip of tea.

Abel stepped onto the hardwood stairs leading up to the store’s entrance and pulled the rickety wooden door open.

The inside was small with barely enough room for ten patrons, all of whom were in corners speaking very lowly in Russian while sipping tea or a bit of vodka. The bartender raised an eyebrow at Abel as he stumbled towards the counter and rested his elbows on the counter, the days of walking finally catching up with him.

“Tea, please,” Abel gasped in Regulian.

The bartender stared at him.

Abel repeated his request in English and again, the bartender did nothing.

“Fuck,” Abel cursed. He didn’t know a word of Russian, but surely the word for tea in Russian couldn’t be that strange? Abel desperately tried to think of another word for tea and then spoke. “Cha?”

Apparently that was close enough, because the bartender put tea leaves in a strainer, placed it in a pot, and poured boiling water over it from an electric kettle.

“Do you have...” Abel paused as a porcelain cup was placed in front of him. It had blue periwinkles on it and looked very out of place in this rugged place, “...internet? Extranet? WiFi?”

The bartender pointed to a piece of paper taped to the wood-paneled wall. Most of it was in incomprehensible Cyrillic but there was clearly a section that showed an SSID and a password.

“Thanks!” Abel nodded and poured the tea into his cup. It was dark and had a strong, smoky smell to it.

Abel took out his datapad and immediately began typing in the password. After a few failures, it finally began connecting ever so slowly.

Sipping his tea, Abel jolted when the datapad suddenly connected and a ton of messages came in. The language was coded and the username didn’t reveal who it was, but it was clearly Brolath, desperate to find out where his captive had vanished to.

Ignoring the anonymous messages, Abel typed in the number he was told to communicate with Brolath on and sent a simple message out.

“I’m alive and I’m in Siberia. My coordinates are...”

Brolath tried to keep his cool but there was no denying he was letting the worst and most obvious of his scents loose. He smelled desperate, excitable, downright manic, with a tinge of arousal. He could not control himself, he needed to reunite with his agent in-person and maybe this time…

He wouldn’t make the same mistakes as last time…

And with Leon…

I’ll do it right this time…

The guards blocking the entrance to the lift-copter port wrinkled their noses at Brolath. They could smell something was off and showed no deference when Brolath spoke.

“Imperial orders, I need a lift-copter.”

“Uh huh,” the black Lupiad on the left snorted, “the Emperor is dead, may he rest in peace.”

“On behalf of the Grant Regent then!” Brolath snarled and whipped out his datapad. “Want me to call him?”

The guards stepped aside and the door swished open, revealing the hangar. One of the guards began to call the control tower and relay what had just happened.

There was one lift-copter on the elevator leading to the outside world. Brolath made a bee-line to that, pointing a finger at a short, brown Sirian technician working on it.

“Is that one ready?” Brolath demanded.

“Yeah, just finished up here,” the technician turned around, peering up at the Regulian. “Why’s that?”

“Regulian Guard,” Brolath flashed his badge. “I need it, Grand Regent Proclath will vouch for me.”

The Sirian nervously licked his lips, “I gotta get approval from-”

“This is all the approval you need,” Brolath tapped his badge. “I’m getting in, prepare the elevator.”

The Sirian cursed in his native tongue and stepped away, taking his toolbox with him. Brolath stepped into the lift-copter and took a seat by the controls, slipping the radio headset over his ears.

No sooner than the elevator had started to move, a voice came blaring out on the radio.

“What the hell is going on!?” a Lupiad demanded.

“In the name of the Regulian Guard and the Grand Regent, I am commandeering this vehicle for an urgent investigation,” Brolath explained. “We need to recover an asset...”

Asset...that kind of demeaning language towards Abel made Brolath’s crotch tingle and his paw instinctively began to rub it.

No! Not this time!

Brolath snapped his paw away and continued, “...an asset for a top-secret investigation. You may file complaints to the nearest Regulian Guard representative. Please ensure all air traffic is diverted.”

The Lupiad swore one last time and then the radio connection was muted.

There was not much else to do in the meantime as the elevator slowly raised itself upwards. Brolath began to think of Abel, the human’s smooth, tan skin and his adorable attempts at looking like a Regulian with that mane of his.

He’ll have missed me...just as I miss Leon…

Once again, Brolath found himself stroking his crotch, imagining embracing the human when they reunite. Finally willing to confess his feelings, Abel kisses Brolath on the lips, as humans love to do…

“You’re clear for take-off,” the Lupiad suddenly snapped on the radio.

“Received,” Brolath spoke and began the ignition procedure.

The lift-copter rumbled to life and the jets fired. Without any delay, Brolath goaded it into hovering up before flying away from the hangar and the domed city.

I’m coming, Abel…

Hours had passed with no reply from Brolath, not even a hello. It was dark out, there was a good chance the Regulian was sleeping right now.

It was a surprise to Abel that the cafe was willing to accommodate him for so long, even when the rest of the patrons had cleared out. The bartender made sure Abel’s cup didn’t run dry and eventually a woman brought out a plate of boiled dumplings without Abel even asking for it.

I guess they think I’m some kind of vagabond? Nice of them to take care of me.

The dumplings were full of juicy ground beef and were delicious dipped into the dollop of sour cream served with it. It sure beat the junk food that Lashar had given him.

I wish I could have shared this with them.

Life was not fair. The Regulians would not accept the two Lacertans and neither would the rebels Abel was looking to meet up with. Not that there was a chance in hell of Abel finding the rebels now, not after being left for dead when that damned monster attacked the train.

Which was why Abel wanted to hear from Brolath, to at least get some kind of order or lead. Hell, maybe the Regulian solved the case on his own and Abel could wash his hands clean of this whole thing?

Abel scooped up a dumpling and popped it into his mouth as the door behind him opened up with a slow creak. A series of footsteps thumped across the squeaking floorboards, approaching him slowly.

A finger tapped on Abel’s shoulder.

“The bill is on us,” a man with a thick Slavic accent spoke with perfect Regulian.

Abel swung around on the stool. A group of three men were standing there, all dressed in old military gear from before the invasion, Kalashnikovs slung across their shoulders. Their leader had a smile on his face, a disconcertingly friendly one.

“It really is you,” the pale soldier in his thirties nodded. “Glass will be pleased to meet you.”

Abel quietly deleted the message he sent out to Brolath with a tap of his finger, he had the menu open just in case he had to get rid of it fast.

“You’re with Glass?” Abel asked. “I was on my way to meet him when...”

“We know all about the situation,” the soldier patted Abel on the shoulder. “He’s had search teams running about for days now, not easy work!”

“Glass ordered this?”

The soldier nodded.

Why does he care so much?

Abel refrained from asking. Something was going on here and he didn’t know what, so it was better to keep his mouth shut.

“Well then,” Abel grabbed his datapad and thanked the bartender. “Let’s go.”

Brolath took out his datapad, set it to low-light mode, and flicked it on. A dull glow, barely enough to be seen from the town off in the distance even if you looked for it, emanated and revealed that this was the place. The location Abel gave him.

“He’s here...” Brolath whispered, licking his dry lips.

Brolath’s tail twitched excitedly. The human would no doubt be scared and need to be comforted.

I’ll do it right this time. I’ll show him…

Flicking the datapad off, Brolath crept closer to the town, crouching close to the ground. Siberia was a dangerous place and there was no good intel on this area about how much effective control the Duchess had over the population.

Thankfully, the towns streetlights were all on. It would ensure that the weak human eyes in the town would see nothing more than an impenetrable shroud of black if they looked in Brolath’s direction.

At least, not until he got closer to the town…

A sharp wheezing noise caused Brolath to freeze and hunker down. The noise persisted, sounding much like the human automobiles Brolath drove on Earth when it was being started, until an engine rumbled and popped.

Curiosity got the better of Brolath and he took out a pair of night-vision binoculars he stole from the lift-copter. Shortly after pressing them to his eyes, he caught sight of a heavy pick-up truck slowly crawling out from the rows of homes.

Flicking the goggles to thermal mode, he caught the outline of four iridescent silhouettes, humans. Two in the cab at the front and two in the back. Brolath zoomed in on the ones in the back until their heat signature swallowed up his vision and he flicked back to night-vision mode.

Abel’s face flickered into view.

Brolath blinked, expecting it to vanish, a product of his desires overriding reality. But Abel was still there in the back of the truck after Brolath blinked.

The human did not seem distressed as Brolath traced the truck’s movement with his binoculars. In fact, the human seemed downright at ease.

Unfortunately, Brolath was not. Despite this clear sign of the mission going somewhat smoothly, Brolath snapped up from his crouch and sprinted towards the truck.

I’m coming, Abel, I’m coming…

I’m coming to-

Brolath collided face-first with something and went spinning into the dirt. His snout was screaming with pain as he tried to right himself, his arms quivering.

There was nothing there...how…?

“Who’s there!?” Brolath demanded, rolling onto his back and staring at the sea of darkness surrounding him. “I need to find Abel!”

There was no reply.

But there was something or someone there, Brolath knew it. He didn’t run into nothing.

The thermal imagery would tell the truth.

Reaching for the binoculars, a sharp hum rang out.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice hissed from the shadows.

There was no mistaking that wretched accent dripping with venom. There was only one abomination in the galaxy that sounded like that.

Canvas fluttered as a green Lacertan suddenly appeared out of thin air before Brolath. He had a rifle aimed straight at Brolath’s chest.

“What’s this about Abel?”