From an ongoing collection of original scifi shorts. More stories available here.
It had been over a hundred standard Xevilian years since Targas had seen another of his kind. Perhaps he was the last. Perhaps there were a few others. But Targas knew one thing for certain: His generation would be the last generation. Those few still alive had lost the ability to reproduce. The bacteria had seen to that.
He guessed that this circumstance played into his desire to own other rare creatures. It was a kinship of a sort. Deep down, he saw each individual item as a member of his new family: one forged in loneliness rather than genetics. He sorted through his collection in his mind. At present, he kept seventeen creatures, with the most recent being a Yuvorian Grak, a creature no larger than one of his clenched talons. The Yuvorian Grak could communicate rudimentary thoughts by shifting the color of its skin, creating complex patterns of light that Targas had never been able to understand.
Very soon, he would have another rare organism to add to his collection, and this one the rarest of them all, a Dru Ialian.
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