Page 16 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander
“I’m Job. Yes?” he corrects, as I usher the tiny Glaseroid who is half my height back into the mess hall.
“Yes, you are my little friend,” I confirm as I place him on a seat at our table. He shudders and squirms the closer he gets to Noroth, who peers at him like he’s the one responsible forhis disgusting food. “Here, eat your fill,” I offer, sliding Noroth’s bowl of slop toward him.
Job’s beady eyes dart between me and the food as I sit facing him in an undersized chair. “Most... Gracious. Yes?” he retrieves a metal canister from his jacket, and I watch in disgust as he pours some squirming larva creatures into the bowl. “Mod harvests these. Most delicious. You try? Yes?” he offers to Logarn.
The blond-haired youngster reaches with a spoon until I clutch his arm. “Don’t eat that, Logarn,” I say, my voice stern. Job shrugs his shoulders before tucking into his writhing meal, the plump wriggling white creatures disappearing down his mouth opening.
Noroth rises as if prodded by a spear, his face a little pale. “I’m going for a piss.” The broad barrel of muscle exits the room with haste. I suppress a laugh watching the indomitable Klendathian struggling with some bugs, some bigger than others...
“Job, tell me about Tyrxie,” I question, curious to learn more about the human and what has befallen her.
Job’s antennae rotate on his head, the implications unclear.Voiding Glaseroids.“Tyrxie, female mammaloid, fleshy bits, sneaky, slow maintenance. Yes?” he returns to his food once again, as if his answer is enough.
“How long has she been a member of the crew?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.Is it possible the human was snatched from Earth after Krogoth’s proclamation, but the Captain held on to her?
“Fourteen years, three months, and five days. Yes?” job responds, his slurping punctuates his answer.How is this possible? No species had shown any interest in Earth or humans until Astraxius’ discovery.
Scratching my head, Job chimes in. “You seek mate? Yes?” his bug-like eyes study me as he continues. “Captain, sell her, yes?”
“No,” I respond without hesitation.
“Mammaloid mating behavior strange. Yes?” Job offers, as he leans forward as if he’s studying me under a lens.
She’s been on this ship since early childhood. How did she get here?... Unless.“Does Captain Kaanus engage in slaving?” I ask, my voice cool. It’s not unheard of for desperate mercs to shame themselves, turning to slavery, snatching primitive species from their homes.
Job flinches back at my question, his antennae and arm limbs becoming animated. “I here after Tyrxie. No slaving. Yes?” he explains, as I let out a frustrated sigh. Job either doesn’t know or won’t say.
Leaning back in my polymer chair, it bends and creaks under my weight. “Who’s been attacking her? She claimed she bumped her head while helping you,” I inquire, glaring at Job, searching for any hint of deception.
“She unswollen during work. But she often swollen. Yes?” Job continues slurping from his unappetizing bowl, before adding, “Mod, treat her. Why you care?”
Why do I care?Is it because she’s a human? Her life is harsh and full of pain, true, but the universe can be merciless and such tales are not uncommon. Did I endeavor to discover the history behind every one before? No, but why does her situation stir something within me now? Is it mere curiosity, or is it basic lust that drives me? Yet I do not feel its savage pull.
It must be the boredom.
The sound of a warning alarm interrupts my thoughts, screeching throughout the ship. Job almost leaps out of his seat, spilling his meal, as I tap Logarn, a signal to follow me. Wasting no time, we march towards the bridge. Hardening my mind, I flex my fingers, extending my claws, ready to strike.
A thud echoes behind us, followed by the ship tilting to one side, forcing me to place a steadying hand against the metalcorridor. Someone’s attacking the ship, but I can’t hear any energy weapons, a relieving thought. The Mutalisk’s Hammer vibrates, followed by the rhythmic rattle of heavy weapons fire.Are pirates attacking us?
The bridge door slides open, revealing Kaanus seated on the captain’s chair navigating the ship with frantic movements, his female Hyanxa screaming instructions over the screeching warning sirens. The Gorglaxian Triandale hand’s move in a flurry over the holographic weapons systems, his tentacles fluttering of their own accord.
Another thud rocks the ship, shaking the floor beneath our feet. Hyanxa yells as the impact throws her to the ground with a crash. Triandale clutches onto his terminal for support. “What’s the situation?” I demand, standing firm. My eyes are drawn to the dazzling central control projection, which fills me with a sense of urgency. Shimmering in tiny blue, it shows our ship being chased by the squirming mass of sinewy tendrils and writhing limbs,
“Seems the Mutalisk wants his cock back,” I jest, but my voice hasn’t a drop of humor. This situation is dangerous. Grave, in fact. A Mutalisk, a colossal monstrosity which lurks amidst swirling clouds of interstellar dust and the shimmering tapestry of stars, awaits victims for its insatiable hunger. This close to one, we have no hope of escaping.
“Ceasefire!” I roar over the cacophony of thuds, bangs, and siren blurring. “You’re only pissing it off.” Arc cannons could do some damage to a Mutalisk enough to deter it, but these rail guns and warheads will not penetrate its nightmarish fusion of tough hide and celestial elements.
“Do you propose we let it eat us?” Kaanus shouts, his voice laden with strain and panic, with his back still turned towards me. The sight of his plasma rifle draped over his chair gives me an idea.
“I will face it,” I declare, already, my adrenaline and Rush stoke and roar within me. “Open the docking hatch, deploy the docking fields, and give me your rifle.”
“What are you voiding, crazy?” Kaanus yells over the noise, his hands darting over the holographic controls as another crash and shudder reverberates throughout the ship.
An excellent question.
Not waiting for permission, I leap behind him, recovering his bulky plasma rifle with its nozzle glowing a soft blue haze. Turning to leave, I’m halted by the bridge door sliding open, revealing Job or is it Mod? “Void born. Very bad! No?” his arms and antenna waving in a blur of frantic motion. “I make toxin. No?” his spindly arm trembles as he reveals several vials of red liquid.
“Let me fetch the Venomizer,” Triandale offers with his agonizing slow speech.