Page 4 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander

I squeeze further into the opened-panel, struggling not to choke on the dust which carpets the small enclosure. Examining the polysynth boards is awkward as my hands and head are restricted in this tight space.

At least Job stayed onboard with me. The rest of the crew almost tripped over themselves in their haste to explore this planet, Klendathor. I know next to nothing about it other than giant, aggressive warrior males inhabit it. That was enough information for me to stay far away.

I’m safe here, plenty of places to hide.

Unlike that night two years ago. Even now the memory causes me to shudder with rapid breaths. I was in my bunk on this very ship, awoken by rough hands and hungering animistic growls, grasping and tearing at my clothes. I screamed and screamed, but no one came. Only when I clawed and sunk my teeth into the attacker’s hands with a desperate, terrible fury did they relent which allowed me to escape and hide for days in the cargo hold.

Which one of these bastards was it?

I’ll never know, but I’ve made damn sure they all know I sleep with knives and I’ll cut any attacker who tries again. Everything was tolerable when I was younger until my body changed. I grew taller, developed these... breasts, and my hips widened. Not to mention the periodic bleeding that’s hard to conceal. It felt like it happened overnight, as the males began to look at me with hungry eyes. All because of some stupid lumpy bits—a curse that still haunts me.

Better to remain unseen.

“Polysynth boards aren’t supposed to melt, right?” I inquire as I run my hand over the fused and twisted circuits. “Ouch!” Scolding pain burns my finger. “Voiding thing!” I shout, sucking my now swollen, red fingertip.

“No, very bad. You remove and bring me? Yes?” Job demands, ignoring the fact the board just scorched me.

I take out my hypodriver, set it to the broad mode, then wedge it into the baseboard which attaches it to the larger components. I’m sure this violates every safety regulation, but that’s never stopped us before.

Click,

The polysynth board flies out under my straining to land amidst the dust. With my thermal dampener rag, I grasp it by its corner like it’s a poisonous creature. I squirm back through the narrow tunnel like a bug through soil towards Job. Hisspindly limbs reach down through the grating, taking the item for inspection.

Maybe it was Job who attacked me?

I just about make out Job standing over me through the slits above as he places three of his limbs to his flat head. “Hmm.” in turns the item over with his other hand, peering through his magnifying goggles. “Repairable. Yes!” he exclaims, reaching for one of his tools at his belt.

But Glaseroids are a small species. My attacker was stronger and bigger than me. At least it felt like that when I pushed against their iron grip and thick hands. Job and Mod are even smaller and frailer than me, a...

Whatever I am.

No one can or will tell me what species I am. Not my crew, not the aliens aboard stations and not the species on other planets. It’s like some cruel joke everyone is in on and I’m the punchline.

I’m different.

Captain Kaanus claimed he rescued me from some slavers during a daring boarding operation, where he and the crew liberated the captives. I was the youngest and strangest of the bunch, with no parents, so he took me in and raised me on this ship ever since I was the height of his knee. I used to trust Kaanus; he’s the closest thing I have to a family. But then he became increasingly possessive and aggressive toward me.

“Done,” Job declares, as showers of sparks snap with a buzzing sound while he puts his engineering tool away. “Here, you put back. Yes?” I reach up, squeezing my fingers through the grate to clutch the repaired polysynth board.

I tsk, looking at the object. “Job, this is still melted!” I protest, running my hand over the twisted and discolored board.

“It works, you see. Yes?” Job assures, wavering his six skittering arm limbs and gesturing towards the ship’s panel.

I turn around with much difficulty, almost squashed in this compact space. “No wonder things keep breaking around here,” I grumble under my breath.

Job must have heard me as he responds. “Resources very scare,” he calls out after me as I continue to crawl on my belly towards the open panel. “You speak to Captain. You convince him to buy new parts. Yes?”

New ship more like.

I scoff at his words. There seems to be a misunderstanding among the crew that our Captain has a soft spot for me... Maybe he does, but then why am I crawling on my belly through a disgusting old gangway tunnel then?

He won’t let me leave.

I recall asking the large Argorian Captain for leave so I could search for my species, unsure if my unknown people even have a home planet or if there are any others like me. He had scared me then, not for the first time. His scaled face twisted with rage, accusing me of being ungrateful, screaming that he should have sold me off instead. The shock of his outburst sent me running with tears in my eyes, and even now it twists my stomach in knots.

Better not to ask.

But I can’t stop thinking about it. Is there a home for me among the stars? Away from all this grime, filth, dangerous journeys, and desperate battles? Somewhere safe. I close my eyes, almost picturing a bright warm sun overhead and fresh non-recycled air through my black hair, the sound of animals rather than the low dim of a shaky engine, lush vegetation and clean water over rolling hills...