Page 58 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander
Echoes a voice in my mind, reminiscent of Hyanxa’s. But I silence the thought. Xandor can be trusted. He saved me, saved our ship, risking his life, like a hero from a story. Despite my hostility, he always treated me with honor.
As I stand staring at Xandor with a smile on my lips, my vision begins to blur and my legs grow unsteady. Suddenly, maintaining my balance becomes a struggle, and I start to fall. But then, Xandor’s firm hands catch me, encasing me in their protective embrace, with surprising gentleness. It feels pleasant, being held by him, not wishing to run, allowing myself to just be.
My eyes close of their accord. Total exhaustion robbing me of my consciousness.
“Rest Tyrxie. You’re safe now,” Xandor whispers, his words the beginnings of the sweetest dream.
Chapter 23
Tyrxie
Aftermath
Istartle awake. Ittakes a few seconds for my surroundings to become familiar. I’m laid out in Mod’s laboratory, my pleasant dreams slipping away. Disappointment surges within me, noticing Xandor absence. Releasing a heavy sigh, I question the sincerity of his words—were they genuine or mere false reassurances to lure me back to the ship, back to danger?
Maybe I was naïve to trust him, or anyone for that matter.
Rising on my elbows, I grimace as pain pulses in aching protest from my face, ribs, and hand. The latest painful punishment for my blind trust in the menacing Urgnaw. A mistake I vow never to make again. The memory of his brutalattack causes me to shudder and, without thinking, I reach for the most painful injury—the aching scabbed brand on my chest.
I brush my fingers over the coarse, throbbing skin as I gasp, lamenting that this is now part of me. A foreign emblem I must carry forever, reminding me of my stupidity and my helplessness. Pain lances through me as I pick at the wound, desperate to be rid of it already, hating it with every ounce of my being.
Agony forces me to stop, as I lack the resolve and willpower to continue. Withdrawing my fingers, I see my strange red blood between my fingernails, wishing I had the strength to push through the pain, but I don’t.
Seems I lack the strength for most things.My plan to escape was a disaster—it not only failed, but almost cost me my life. And yet, it was Xandor, the one I had stolen from, the one I had run from, who saved me from a fate worse than death.
Where is he now?
A sense of longing which wrinkles my brow follows the strange question. Usually I’m wondering where people are, so I can avoid them. But now I’m filled with a treacherous desire for his reassuring presence. He promised to protect me until the day he died. Even the memory of it makes my heart flutter, so much so I almost don’t believe his absurd words. Yet he spoke with such intense sincerity I find myself trusting his words... trusting in him.
Why? I don’t deserve his protection. I deserve nothing.
The bitter thought fills me with an irrational, yet strange, comforting familiarity. But the question remains, Xandor only offered an incoherent response when I asked. He could’ve killed or mated me at any moment with my vulnerability and his overwhelming strength.Is it a deeper connection he seeks?Yet he knows nothing about me, other than that I stole his precious mask from him.
It makes no sense.
As I sit up on the bench, the laboratory door slides open, revealing Mod. Seeing him unhurt brings a smile to my face, but it soon fades as he carries an intimidating metal instrument with three large spiked prongs that gleam in the low light. The sight of it causes my mouth to go dry. “Is... Is that for me?” I stammer out my words, hindered by fear.
“Ah, bruised patient awakes. No?” Mod replies as he hurries to one of his shelves, placing the ominous device amongst the jars of inky liquids and revolting specimens. “This I borrow from Job, useful for breaking tough bones. No?”
“Breaking bones?” I repeat, reexamining myself with nervous glances, checking my extremities. “My bones?”
Mod tuts his antennae drooping. “Your bones more like spongy twigs. Could break easily with small hammer. No?” He opens his long coat, revealing all manner of strange tools and jars, and points toward a tiny rounded hammer.
“That’s a relief,” I reply, releasing a long breath, though unsure if his description of my bones as ‘spongy twigs’ should offend me. Mod approaches, dabbing a cloth with some black oily ointment, his beady eyes scanning my body. “How is everyone else?” I blurt out, wondering what fate has befallen the rest of the crew.
“All live, though Triandale is gone, Kaanus nasty wound to leg. Have disinfected and stapled. Quad covered in bruises... mostly his knuckles. Job slight concussion, singed fingers,” Mod recites distracted as he dabs my bruised cheeks with the stinging cloth. “Hyanxa bruised face.” He lets out a weary sigh as the stinging cloth now produces a welcome numbing sensation. “Blond-haired Klendathian cracked ribs and sternum. Much work. I should ask Captain for bonus. No?”
Relief blooms in my chest at his words and whatever strange liquid he’s applying to my wounds. I’m glad I intervened whenI did, maybe saving their lives from the Suns of Omega snipers. Even if it also meant saving Hyanxa and Kaanus. Although I wonder what happened to the young Klendathian, did Xandor’s soldiers help in the battle?
“What in the void happened out there, Mod?” I inquire.
“You apply elsewhere, to fleshy bits. No?” Mod shifts, tossing the pungent chemical-like cloth onto me rudely. “You would have seen had you not run away. No?” he accuses with his antennae directed straight towards me.
I abandoned them, so I deserve to be abandoned.
A pang of regret and sadness tug at my mind and I struggle to meet Mod’s expecting glare. For a moment I wrack my brain for some clever answer, some clever lie. But something is different. I’m different now. Where my trembling fear should be, I only sense regret.
“I’m sorry Mod, I was frightened and ran away, but I did take out a few snipers from the windows,” I answer with a smile.