Love Is Always Write Volume 4

was their boss, but since they were older they said, "Yes, sir," and did whatever the jamming asteroids they chose to do.
    He couldn't even complain, because then it would be associated with his young age and his general tendency to be a whiner. But Darien wasn't a sniveling puppy; people just didn't get him. He was the first to smack himself when he was being stupid and whiny.
    Darien took his damned helmet off. Planet X (for him it wasn't even Xad anymore) had excellent levels of oxygen; thus, it was ridiculous to be wearing that gadget under two scalding suns. He shook his sweaty mass of red curls. This was his only act of rebellion; regulations required his hair be no longer than a centimeter, but who was going to get there with a razor to make him comply? And to make his action more defiant, something in the gravity of the planet made his hair grow faster than usual. It already covered his ears after almost four months, becoming a turban under the helmet.
    At least snow-haired assholes one and two didn't follow his lead and had their regulation buzzed haircuts. For a reason he'd never wanted to analyze, white hair nauseated him. He didn't know if it was because he associated it with old age, decay and death.
    Frederick and Jacques screwing the brains out of each other had nothing to do with decaying flesh, though.
    Darien had caught them twice in undesignated areas going at it like pistons. He was miffed by this insubordination, but secretly, it was more out of envy. They had one another; Darien was alone.
    His increasing horniness did not help matters either. Masturbation didn't satisfy him at all. He longed for the touch of another being to conquer his itch. Enough. What he needed to do was focus on his task in this exterior area of Temple Alpha. All the technology of the universe, and archaeology still relied on trowel and brush for successful accomplishment, which wasn't a bad thing. Manual labor distracted him somehow.
    Nevertheless, that somehow wasn't happening today.
    The group of androids under his command worked methodically when suddenly, they all went face first into the dirt, all energy drained from them. The strident sound of horns deafened him; he covered his ears and shut his eyes. Darien had read somewhere of a city wall destroyed by the sound of horns; this was what it must have sounded like, enough to make anyone go crazy.
    What in the Seven Planets is that?
    The ground began shaking, and a figure emerged from the mound at his right. It was big and brown and crazy looking with spikes and what seemed like furious skulls. Darien thought perhaps he shouldn't have dismissed all the talk of a curse and a sacred guardian on the old documents after all. Whatever this was didn't seem friendly, and those deafening horns were making him want to scream.
    With heavy steps, the bulky thing descended, everything trembling in its wake. Darien stood up and drew his laser gun, ready to shoot. He didn't have the best aim, but the thing was so massive it wouldn't take that much to put a hole in it somewhere.
    Along with the chill of impending disaster, Darien felt sweat run down his spine, his entire body inside the suit completely clammy. As whiny as everyone thought he was, he was not going to roll over and let this freak send him to the next life. He wasn't leaving without at least one or two blasts left behind in the byotch carcass.
    The humongous monster halted with a raised hand, stopping the horns altogether. Darien heard the shrill of the energy concentrating as his gun prepared for discharge. His determination didn't waiver; even if the thing didn't possess any visible weapons, he'd never seen anything like it before, and therefore, he couldn't be confident.
    Nightmare-thing directed its hands toward its head and removed it, showing that it was a helmet. What came out of the helmet left Darien stunned. Purple Byotch!
    Magnificent would be insufficient to describe the beauty of the man. His eyes were pure cobalt, and his lips were pink as the first rays of the sunrise. Angular and masculine, his face ought to be in museums of every galaxy. Not even the white hair, straight and to one side, diminished the otherworldly features.
    "Put your gun down, please. I am Kekoa Wana'ao, guardian and priest of this planet." The eidolon smiled, exuding ethereal charm. "What's your name, pretty one?"
    "You speak my language?" If you needed a stupid question, that was the perfect one.
    "I learned your language when the