Page 5 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander

“You expired? Yes?” Job interrupts my pleasant thoughts, as I can just make out the low tapping of his impatient foot-like appendage on the gangway. I sigh, as I place the polysynth boardwith steady hands back into its slot, bracing for it to burn my fingers again.

Click,

Did it work?I peek open an eye, seeing no change or sizzling fingers, surprised at the result. Turning again, I make the agonizing crawl through the tunnel back to Job. The blue glow of Job’s wrist console highlights his flat, narrow features. “Excellent, APRS functional,” he says with a hint of satisfaction. “Faster next time. Yes?” He scolds.

I’d like to see him move faster through here! Our entry into Klendathor damaged the Atmospheric Pressure Resistant System, or APRS. Job made the terrifying statement that if the APRS had given out a few seconds earlier, we would have all been cooked to cinders. But now we can rest easy knowing that a half melted polysynth board stands between us and a fiery death.

Maybe it’d be a mercy?

Crawling to the open grate, I extend a grimy hand towards Job, hoping for his help to pull me back up onto the gangway. He scoffs, his beady bug eyes narrowing. “Much work to be done. Yes?” he mutters before scurrying off toward the engineering quarters, grumbling about, “dirty mammaloid hands.”

Gazing at my hands covered up to the elbow in dirty grime and dust, it’s hard to blame the Glaseroid. With a resigned sigh, I make my way towards the crew quarters, eager to scrub off this filth that clings to me with a stubbornness like it’s part of me.

I am filthy.

The heavy hydraulic hissing of the docking hatch catches my attention. The other crew members must be returning. I hasten my steps, hoping to finish my shower before any can find me, naked and vulnerable. They should be busy loading the cargo hold for trade.

I must be quick.I jog into the crew quarters as the gray arcweave door whizzes open at my approach. My heart poundsin my chest as my trembling hands pull off my heavy, reinforced boots. Almost stumbling in my hurry, I hop through the cramped room full of bunks with floor littered with discarded clothing and other random junk. Adding my boots to the cluttered collection.

I move towards the narrow white door nestled in the back. It opens at my approach, revealing a tiny room with an adjustable toilet, mirror and many shower nozzles embedded into the polished arcweave walls. Not for the first time, I wonder how someone like Quad, with his bulk or the towering Triandale can fit here comfortably.

Maybe it was one of them.

I struggle to peel off my dirty, once-white shirt, as it clings to my skin with dampness and grunge. Next, I remove my simple brown trousers. They drop with a heavy thud ladened with many pockets full of rags, hypodriver, hypospanner, knives and other tools needed for the jobs I get assigned.

Thumbing my large knife handle, I feel the reassuring weight of my pistol that rests in my belt holster. A pang of anxiety tightens my chest as I unbuckle and set it aside. I feel more exposed without my weapons than I do without my clothes. Staring at my reflection in the dirty mirror, I strip off my black underpants, greeted by pale white skin denied any sunlight, marred with dirt. Untidy hair as dark as the void of space frames, green eyes lost and afraid. I poke at my exposed ribs, and the fleshy breasts that draw so much unwanted attention, feeling the stiff pink nipples that are hard to hide.

Horrible.

I activate the shower, and I brace myself for the powerful jet’s blast. The familiar gritty substance scours my skin with an abrasive chemical concoction. It’s not pleasant, but it is effective. I rub the tiny particles into my body, watching it cleanse me of the crusted grime and dirt. Water is a scarce resource on theMutalisk’s Hammer. Some more advanced vessels can fabricate such luxuries, but not this pile of rickety bolts.

I can count on one hand the number of water showers I’ve had, each one a blissful memory of warm, soothing waters flowing through my hair and against my skin with a unique softness.Maybe at the next safe station or planet, I can sneak off to find one.The thought brings a smile to my lips.

I wonder if my home planet has water showers?

Just at the edge of my awareness, I hear... the crew quarter doors whizzing open. It’s hard to tell over the blasting jets of the shower, but my instinct tells me someone’s coming. My hands tremble as my breathing becomes erratic. I’m too exposed here, nowhere to hide! I reach for my black holster with unsteady and frantic hands.

The white shower door slides open, revealing Hyanxa, the Captain’s second-in-command. Despite the sudden intrusion, my shoulders loosen, knowing it’s not a male who has come with their powerful hands and predatory, greedy eyes. But her usual disdain in her golden eyes soon twists into something far more sinister.

Hatred.

It steals my breath. “Found you!” Hyanxa roars, her long-muzzled snarl twisting around the deep scar on her right cheek. She strides toward me, towering almost a head taller.

I squirm into the corner, holding my holster in front like a feeble shield, unsure of what has triggered her anger.

“You little cunt!” Her scream is deafening as her hand crashes across my face so hard it rings my ears and blurs my vision.

Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. Trapped.

“Hyanxa, I didn’t do anything, please!” I beg. Already feeling the stinging, throbbing ache of her slap.

“Didn’t do anything! I see the way you look at Kaanus,” she snarls, revealing sharp fangs, shaking with fury and adrenaline.“I won’t let you take him from me! You understand, little slave whore?” Her sharp nail digs into my ribs, causing me to flinch with pain.

I try to push past her, my eyes already streaming tears, revealing my fear and terror. Her short brown furred hand shoves me with force into the corner, jolting my head. I grasp for the knife in my holster, knowing that hurting her will result in getting kicked off the ship or worse, but hoping it will frighten her.

“Go on, try it,” Hyanxa taunts, her fangs glinting in the dim light. “I want you to,” she smirks, a cruel twist on her muzzled face. I lower my holster with downcast eyes, defeated, knowing I’m powerless to stop her. “That’s what I thought, you little znat cunt.”

She straightens, brushing a lazy hand through her long red hair as her golden eyes sweep over my body. “If I catch you so much as looking at Kaanus again.” Her hand shoots out, pinching my nipple with cruel precision, making me yelp in pain. “I’ll have you sold off to the cheapest pleasure house in Terminus Exile Station. They’ll line up to take turns breeding you for a few credits a go. You might even enjoy it, being a dirty whore,” she smiles, a sadistic gleam in her eyes, as she twists my nipple hard and sharp. I scream, the agony piercing my mind forcing me to my knees.