Page 20 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander

“Good to see you too, Mod,” I greet him with a sarcastic tone and a surge of confidence that I rarely have. My adrenaline is pumping as I get closer to executing my plan. “You saved us with your toxin, thank you,” I nod at him.

Mod sets his vials down on the nearby metal bench. “I save myself. The rest a welcome consequence. No?” he retorts.

From Mod, this is equivalent to a heartfelt declaration of friendship that brings a smile to my lips. But the true intentions of the two Glaseroid brothers are always hard to discern. “Whereis Xandor, the Klendathian?” I ask, hoping to keep the eagerness from my voice.

Mod turns back to his liquids, holding one up to a light source for better inspection. “In his guest quarters. No?” he answers, his voice laced with boredom and irritation.

One of Mod’s duties is to tend to the wounded, but his lack of a bedside manner, empathy or any basic decency proves he’s much more invested in his chemical experiments, deadly toxins and unknown ointments. “How’s he doing?” I inquire, my fate hanging on Mod’s every word.

“Stable, cracked ribs, concussion, severe bruising. But I treat. Klendathian physiognomy heals quick. No?” Mod replies, turning with a quickness that surprises. “Why ask, you ovulating? No?” his beady eyes scan my body.

Heat colors my face at his rude accusation. “No, Mod!” I reply in a rush, too quick. Taking a calming breath, I continue. “I have my reasons, but do you think he’s still unconscious?” My question might reveal too much, but the need to change the subject drives me.

Mod places his many arm limbs under his mouth slit. “Hmm, should be, but can’t be sure. No?” he answers, turning back to his bench.

My chance for freedom.

“Thanks, Mod.” I wave, gesturing goodbye as I exit his lab, but Mod doesn’t notice, already lost to his world of liquid chemicals and fusing elements together.

Navigating the corridor again with careful steps and keen ears, I make my way toward the guest quarters. This is always the most dangerous area of the ship, with the aggressive male strangers who often seek me out attempting to breed me. Even stepping foot here fills me with an anxiety that shakes my hands.

And now, the presence of three unstoppable giant males intensifies its danger, as they tower over all like they shouldbelong in another dimension. Rubbing the handle of my knife does little to calm my nerves because these Klendathians are almost impervious. Xandor had even endured battling a Mutalisk, a feat I would have sworn is impossible.

Stealth is my only hope.

A loud thud jolts me out of my thoughts, followed by another and another. I tense up, expecting trouble, until I recognize the familiar voice that accompanies the heavy footsteps. It’s Quad, shouting random words and phrases as he makes his way towards me. He’s hard to miss, with his massive frame and four muscular arms, but he’s even harder to ignore with his constant stream of babble.

I don’t bother to run or hide from Quad. He may be a nuisance, but he’s always been protective, even when his childish antics get dangerous. Like the time he got a new suit of armor and challenged everyone on the ship to a fight, or the time I needed a boost to reach the top of the hull and he flung me into the air with such force that I sprained my ankle on landing. He didn’t mean any harm, he just didn’t know his own strength. Or much else, for that matter.

Despite that, he’s still dangerous.

“Bash! Bash!” Quad repeats, swinging his massive four arms around like meaty scythes of destruction. A perilous word on the lips of the hulking brute causing my surge of fear to come back with increased intensity, forcing me to squeeze into a corner, not wishing to be trampled.

“Oh hello, Tiny,” Quad says, halting, waving his four arms as a broad smile crosses his broad, deep-set face. “Why you here? You never here,” he bellows with such loudness, I almost flee to hide in a gangway, fearing he may awaken Xandor and half the universe.

Holding a finger to my lips, a call for silence. “I’m hiding, Quad,” I whisper, crouching for emphasis.

He frowns, his brow furrowing. “Oh,” Quad says quieter, but still much too loud. “You always hide,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Hiding is boring, bashing is best!” He roars, my pleas for quiet already forgotten. “Captain said I clean cargo, then we bash?” He asks, nodding his head eagerly.

I shudder at the thought, feeling a surge of dread. “I’m far too tiny for bashing,” I say, raising my hands in a placating gesture.

Quad hangs his head, disappointment etched on his features. “Okay,” he says, his voice low. Then, his face lights up in an instant, his sadness already a distant memory. “I bash the others!” he declares, resuming his stomping down the corridor.

“Because I’m the best basher now!” Quad announces, his voice growing more distant as he moves away. I worry what plan the eccentric giant has in mind, but I push it to the back of my thoughts. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, glad that he’s gone. I have my own plans in motion, one I hope Quad’s loudness hasn’t ruined.

I can only try to protect myself.

With careful steps, I arrive before the master suite nestled deep within the guest quarters. Xandor appears to be their leader and carries himself with a natural confidence that I can’t help but envy. No doubt, this must be his room. The thought sends ripples of terror through me, like little tendrils of ice creeping over my skin, biting deep and stealing my breath. I reach for my locket, rubbing it for courage.

I can do this!

Crouching into the door, it swooshes open with a loud hiss, making me wince. It sounds as loud as Quads bellowing to my heightened senses. I place careful steps, one foot caressing the floor at a time as I hold my breath, not daring to make a sound. Good, the room is dark, except for a dull pale glow emitting from the ceiling giving me just enough light to see but also to hide.

The master suite is the largest quarters on board the Mutalisk’s Hammer, even bigger than the Captains. Metallic walls and floor contrast with the white polymer furniture. I’ve often been here to clean after guests depart, so I know the layout well. It’s towards the end of the room that I’ll find out if Xandor is here and if he’s sleeping. I cast my nervous eyes around, feeling a creeping worry. He might not be staying here, since no clothes or personnel items are lying around.

Then I spot him, the surprise rooting me to the ground. The terrifying, heroic, monstrous Xandor. His broad chest rises and falls, releasing great audible breaths of air due to his sheer largeness. Tiptoeing closer, I stifle a gasp at his massive form sprawled out almost naked on the bed, stirring feelings of excitement and fear within me.

Lust is dangerous.