The young couple slept peacefully in their bed while powerful, dark forces worked against them, against all mankind. Two malevolent figures watched them from the darkness, their eyes aglow.
These two creatures, descended from races older than man himself, had bided their time waiting for the opportunity to strike. They were patient, lurking in the shadows. Soon the moment would be theirs, they would emerge from the shadows and take their rightful place in the light.
“Well Commander Xerc…”
“Not yet Rufus. We shall use our Terran names until victory is in our grasp.”
“Yes Mrs. Pewtersmythe, we have waited this long, patience is something we can afford.”
“Yes Rufus, the ability to calmly wait, to endure the hardships and subjugation has helped our two peoples in the past. Now that same diligence will pay off, the spoils of this victory shall be ours for the taking. Nothing will be withheld from us.”
Mrs. Pewtersmythe’s voice took on a high keening edge. Not for the first time did Rufus think there was something of the maniacal in it, though he wisely kept his council. She had led them well thus far.
Though there was not a small bit of enmity between their two species, they had been able to work together to achieve their mutual goals. Mrs. Pewtersmythe’s people, the Leonaise, were renowned for their guile and cunning. Using craft and skill to achieve their ends, resorting to treachery and sedition only when diplomacy failed.
The Siriuans, though no less intelligent than their gracile allies relied more on their massive size, and strength. They were warriors, devourers, conquerors. Over many a domain did they hold sway.
The truce between their two people was not easy. For centuries these two great races had fought a seemingly endless war, though neither gained the upper hand. A tenuous armistice had been established, leading to a semblance of peace, neither side fully trusting the other.
Over time an affinity had developed between Rufus and Mrs. Pewtersmythe, there existed between the two, if not a liking, then to be sure a genuine mutual admiration for the other. “Do you think there can ever be a true peace between our people? Will we ever leave the generations of bloodshed and war forgotten in our past to allow us to march ahead in unity and prosperity.”
“You are like all of your kind Rufus,” she said quietly, casting an indulgent glance in his direction as a parent might to its offspring. Beneath that wild and ferocious exterior, you are all, at heart gentle and philosophic souls.”
Rufus bristled slightly at these remarks. “That may be true Commander,” he said stiffly, “as the old soldiers saying goes prepare for peace, but plan for war. No one dislikes war more than the warrior. Your people, while seeming to engender trust are always plotting… scheming… hatching nefarious plots…,” his deep voice trailed off into a low growl.
"Now, Rufus, I meant no offense,” she purred soothingly, “let there be no ill will. I merely meant to suggest that beneath the surface bravado, you Sirians are a deep and contemplative people.
"Thank you Mrs. Pewtersmythe.” The man stirred on the bed. “I think it is time.”
“Yes, I believe you’re right.”
The man yawned and sat up.
“Rorwf,” said Rufus.
“Mrower,” chimed in Mrs. Pewtersmythe.
The man looked at the clock, scratched his head, stood and said, “Okay, okay. I know. It’s time for breakfast.” He rose and left the bedroom.
Commander Xercian, and Leftenant Klatu padded along behind.