Make Love: Not War
Copyright© 2026 by Komiko Yakamura
Chapter 1
The Human Alliance had been at war with the Valthari Federation, a hostile kingdom of 5 potentate Queens and their daughters reminiscent of the mythical Amazon warriors. Tall, sleek Humanoid with skin as soft pink as a newborn babe with bioluminescent veins of glowing silver occasionally pulsing under the skin. Their ears long, gracefully tapering to a delicately rounded point. There was a stark contrast between the males and females of this species. Men had an almost hideous block angularity to their highly muscular bodies and heads. The females were stunningly gorgeous, curvaceous although also highly muscular. The females were far deadlier of the two; faster, more agile, and cunning.
Our story takes place on the small planet of Thorax, a planet rich in Glacies-Pyrite, a mineral used in pulse reactor cores because of its unique property to maintain a constant temperature of 0°C regardless of heat surrounding it.
Fighting was the fiercest in the northeast quadrant, where the majority of the refineries were located. Vance Riker was a human alliance special forces medic who got separated from his unit, and without a weapon. He found himself desperately searching for a safe place to hide until he could be located by the GPS tracking device all military personnel had imbedded into their armor.
Trying to stay low and moving from cover to cover. Vance spotted a crashed junior class Valtharian battle cruiser about forty meters off to the left. Still smoldering, severed electrical conduits still spitting sparking electrical discharges. It had a gaping hole on the front starboard side that looked like a perfect entry to a good hide. The enemy would not think to look inside one of their own craft for a human.
He crouched and stepped inside the hole in the outer hull. The interior of the Valtharian dropship smelled of ozone and copper. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noted the red dot on his chest right above his heart. Vance kept his hands high, the light of his tactical flare reflecting off the barrel of the pulse weapon pointed at his chest.
“I’m a medic,” he said, his voice calm despite the sweat beads rolling down his neck. His eyes quickly adjusting to the interior light, saw her. Sitting on the floor, back against the bulkhead. He could see she was steadily oozing blood from her thigh just below her hip.
“You’ve got about forty minutes before that femoral bleed makes you take a permanent nap. You put the gun down, I fix the leak. Deal?”
Zanera glared, her violet eyes shimmering with lethal intent. She looked like a goddess of war carved from marble, but the puddle of blue-black blood beneath her told a different story. She lowered the phaser. “Fix it, Human. But if your hands stray, I’ll take your head.”
Elias knelt, reaching for his shears. “I need to get this armor off. It’s blocking the site.”
“That is my skyn-plate,” she hissed, her face flushing a deep lavender. “It is not merely ‘armor.’ It is my modesty. To remove it is to see my ... my sacred sanctum.”
Elias sighed, the weary exhaustion of a man who had seen too many combat zones. “Look, Gorgeous —or whatever—I’ve got three years of trauma surgery experience and a degree in xenobiology. I’v8 ae seen ‘sacred sanctums’ from here to the Orion Belt. It’s just plumbing. Take it off or bleed out. Your choice.”
With a series of clicks, the plate fell away. Elias blinked. “Huh. No pubic hair? Efficient.”
“We are Valtharians!” she snapped, though her voice hitched as his warm, calloused hand stabilized her hip. “We do not grow ... weeds ... upon our bodies!”
The human medic crouched beside her, sweat tracing the line of his neck. “This is insane,” he muttered, glancing over her smooth, silvery skin. “You’re lucky I passed my alien physiology module.”
Zanera arched one perfect brow. “And you, human, are fortunate that I am too weak to vaporize you for your insolence.”
He chuckled softly. “Oh, you’re adorable when you threaten me,” as he applied the quick-sealing and healing gel before applying a dressing.
“Adorable?” she echoed, scandalized, right before he pressed closer, guiding her hips gently to test how much pain her wound would tolerate. She sucked in a sharp breath that was not entirely from discomfort.
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