Page 26 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander
“Brother, I feared the simple one had sent you to the ancestors,” I remark, my face beaming with joy, as I approach Noroth on the bench. “Who would have thought you could become even flatter?” I jest, with a friendly pat on his shoulder, which elicits a grimace of pain from him.
“Hands off patient! He suffered severe crushing damage. If not for his armor, he would have expired. No?” Mod bristles, his beady eyes narrowing towards me, as he applies bandages soaked in strange colorful liquids.
“Xandor,” Noroth whispers, each syllable a clear indication of his agony, beckoning me with a limp hand. I lean in beside him, eager to hear his pained words. “Glaseroid.... Trying to kill me... Rancid liquids,” he splutters, wincing in agony.
Mod retrieves a large metal rod with four retractable spikey prongs from a shelf. “Nonsense, drug-induced delusions,” hescoffs, setting the instrument beside Noroth. “Giant, tough mammaloids, complain like new pupa. No?” he protests while selecting from an array of wicked-looking saw-like tools.
Noroth’s gaze flicks to Mod and back to the spikey pronged item, causing his eyes to roll back in his head.I got off light with the Mutalisk!
“Is this safe?” I ask, growing more uneasy with each strange and ominous tool Mod piles beside Noroth.
The little Glaseroid scoffs. “Safe? No. Necessary? Absolutely. No?” he replies, leaving me more befuddled by his sentence structure and repetition of the word ‘no.’
“Uh... When will he make a full recovery?” I ask, hoping for some clarity, while Mod pours some blue oily liquid over the surface of his serrated hand saw.
“Forever if you keep distracting. No?” Mod scoffs. “Chest cavity compromised must penetrate and reinforce. Like Job with repairs, only better. No?” he answers after a sigh, buttoning up his long coat and covering his narrow face with a clear polymer mask that looks like it belongs to his brother in engineering.
Noroth stirs, his movements slow. “Void, I almost start before administering proper sedative. No?” Mod declares as his spindly arms pat down his coat, searching for a purple jar. Then he turns to me, his antenna twirling with excitement. “You leave now, unless you help? No?”
My gaze shifts between the pair and my brows furrow with a frown as a sense of dread fills me. But without the Scythian healing pods, I’m powerless to help my poor friend. “You make sure he survives this, Mod,” I demand as my eyes bore into the little Glaseroid.
Exiting the room, the voice of Mod just catches my ear. “Yes, he survives. No?” prompting me to sigh with exasperation, resigned to leave it in the hands of the Gods and this eccentricMod now. I make my way towards my quarters, exhaustion weighing down on me after such a long and eventful day.
As my body sinks into the soft mattress, the faintest hint of Tyrxie’s scent still lingers in the air.Will she visit again tonight?The question lingers in my mind as sleep beckons, offering respite from the chaos aboard the ship.
I awaken from my fitful night of sleep, plagued by troubling dreams. Images of being trapped and weighed down by an unshakable force, unable to escape, while those around me died before my eyes. Even now, the memory of their fading forms slips through my grasp like fine sand, leaving behind only a clammy bed, damp with sweat.
It isn’t just the nightmares which torment me, but the consistent sudden lurches from my sleep. As if my unconscious mind suspects an intruder lurking, jolting me awake every few moments. However, there is no sight or sound beyond the monotonous hum of the ship’s engines and my panicked breaths.
During one such disorienting episode, I glimpse her... Tyrxie, standing in the shadows at the foot of my bed. But this version of her fills me with an ominous dread. Her eyes bore into mine, a hostile entity whose ardent wish is to see me dead. Recoiling from the terrible spirit, clarity soon came. As my eyes focused, what I could swear was a figure of Tyrxie melted away, leaving just a troubling echo in my mind.
Perhaps the real Tyrxie wishes to see me dead?It would not surprise me; her fear and hostility envelopes her like a cloak. A sigh escapes my lips at the realization that once again I find my thoughts and now even my dreams haunted by the ceaselessruminations on the human female, despite vowing to her and myself to part ways and leave her in peace.
Must be some kind of space travel induced illness of the mind? Such a brief time, a potential record!The automatic illumination casting a pale bright glow over the large but sparse decorated room indicates the sleep phase has ended. Yet the allure of sleep still beckons due to the fatigue and mild headache pulsating within me.
With a sudden burst of energy, I leap out of bed, thankful to find only a faint twinge of pain in my chest, the last traces of my brutal fight with the Mutalisk. At least I can still trust my body, unlike the treacherous labyrinth of my subconscious. Wasting no time, I equip some leather clothes and exit my quarters to discover Logarn marching down the corridor.
His weighty armored boots thud, shaking the gangway beneath him, reminding me to ask Job about my war gear later. Logarn strides forward, oblivious or uncaring at my sudden appearance. “Oi, Logarn,” I jest, giving him a playful shove from behind. “Pay more attention.”
He whirls around, surprising me with his speed. Fury flickers across his face for a fleeting moment, then vanishes, leaving behind his usual unsettling blankness. “Second Xandor,” he intones, pumping his fist to his chest and bowing in a crisp salute. “What are your orders?”
“Orders?” I ask, rubbing the back of my neck. “The same as the last hundred times you’ve asked. Standby until we reach Nebia,” I say, this time leaving out the insistence that he doesn’t need to salute me every time we meet; it’s a lost cause. “And where are you off to?” I inquire, curious that he is walking alone.
“Captain Kaanus summoned all personnel to the bridge,” Logarn answers, extending his wrist console for inspection.Why didn’t I get a notification?Examining my wrist console shows nothing other than we are ten minutes late to the meeting.
“Let’s not keep them waiting,” I declare, leading Logarn towards the bridge, wondering why the Captain has called a meeting, and why I was left out? The nagging suspicion that forces are working against us bloom once again.
As we continue down the undersized corridor, recycled air dampening the pale lights into a hazy fog, my thoughts drift to Noroth. “Logarn, do you know of Noroth’s condition?” I ask with bated breath, eager for news.
“He is stable,” Logarn answers devoid of emotion, a contrast to the joyous relief flooding through me like a glorious wave.
“Finally, the Gods bless us. I had thought they had forsaken us for daring to set foot on this rust heap,” I reply. As the bridge door appears before us, I can already hear muffled voices.
The bridge hums with tension, its metallic walls appearing alive, absorbing the collective shock. “We’ll shift our furs but hold on to—” Captain Kaanus halts at our arrival, his white eyes unreadable. Followed soon by the faces of the entire crew, some more shocked than others. I notice Tyrxie, crouching in the shadowy corner, as if she is trying to become one with the darkness. A worried expression spreads over her face, twisting my heart. I avert my gaze from her. The effort is like denying myself a view of a stunning green hued nebula dancing in space.I don’t even find petite females attractive!
“Uh... Captain Kaanus, it’s rude to begin a meeting before everyone has arrived,” I stammer, struggling to find my thoughts. “Ruder still, that I was not invited,” I add, looming over the crew, the effect enhanced inside the cramped bridge, as my head almost brushes the ceiling. The seats around the minuscule table are all occupied. Quad motions to stand until I quell his movement with a hand on his shoulder.
Kaanus’ face scrunches with confusion. “Not invited?” He looks to the female Jungarian with red hair. “Was he notincluded, Hyanxa?” his question prompts the female to activate her own wrist console.