The light blue face of the oracle’s attendant creased in puzzlement. “You are refusing the prestige of being chosen worthy enough to claim a mate?”

“That is correct. I have no interest in shackling myself to a female.” By his ancestors, he’d rather die first. Mating would mean no more space exploration and discovery. No more adventures. Binding himself to a female and, in turn, planet side was an abhorrent thought he refused to entertain.

“But—but—” The attendant seemed at a loss for words. “Your ancestors are already seeking your perfect match. No one ever says no. This is supposed to be your reward for all your hard work.”

“I am saying no and if you want to reward me, give me a raise. Now, if that is all, may I return to my current mission?”

Flustered, the servant to the Oracle opened her mouth, probably to argue again, when suddenly, she disappeared. In her place, the veiled form of the Oracle herself, the spiritual leader for his people—a diminutive female who ruled the various clans with a titanium fist—appeared.

“First class warrior Reg’iantros Vel Veratu, have I heard correctly? Do you refuse the gift we bestow upon you?”

Reg was now the one caught off balance, face to face with the woman who had started and stopped wars. He ducked his head in respect, not daring to look her in the eye, or the veiled area he assumed hid her eyes. “Sorry, Oracle, but the idea of settling down is repugnant to me. I appreciate the gift you would bless me with, but I would prefer to continue as I am.”