Page 59 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander
“Hmm, I wondered who fired first shot. No?” Mod nods his head, with two of his arm limbs framing his mouth slit. “Maybe answer placate Captain? No?” He muses with casualness as his words cause my heart to thunder in my chest.
“The... The Captain?” I stutter out as my hands search my holster, finding only my long knife but absent my pistol. “Was he asking about me?”
Xandor must still have my gun, and they’re going to kill me!
“Yes, you visit his quarters once healed. No?” Mod replies with a curious, tilted narrow head.Even Mod is watching my reaction.Coming back to the Mutalisk’sHammer was a terrible mistake. They all know of my betrayal and I’m back where I started, only this time, somehow worse off. Xandor brought me back here only to abandon me—the thought stiffens my spine with worry.
I take a deep breath, settling my nerves. If I must confront the Captain and... Hyanxa, then so be it. I’ve had enough hiding, enough fear. One way or another, I refuse to live like a znat any longer.
“You hurry, scrub between milk sacks, you leaking mammaloid exertions onto bench? No?” Mod gestures with his elongated fingers towards my scorched branded chest, his less-than-stellar bedside manner still intact.
“You’re all heart Mod,” I grimace, running the cloth over my agonizing wound, the oily fabric bringing with it a sharp stinging ache. “Maybe it was a mistake saving you back on the station?” I ask, smirking through the pain.
Mod scoffs, his head antennae fluttering. “If I expire, who tends to wounded? No?” he shoots back even quicker than usual.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a droid? I remember you and your brother recommending them,” I chuckle, remembering a previous conversation on the bridge.
“You grow bold. Maybe I apply too much opiates? No?” Mod replies, sniffing the jar containing the black oily substance with a frown.
I may need more opiates before the day’s end.
I grimace, staring at the strange horned beast burned into my flesh, sitting between my breasts. Mod’s oily ointment clears some of the dead skin away, soothing the scorching ache, but also making it more visible. It sits like an otherworldly monster claiming ownership of my body. My mouth twists with disdain as I resist the urge to scrape it again. My hatred for it burns hotter than the brand that inflicted the wound.
“Mod, is there anything you can do about this?” I exclaim with heat in my voice, gesturing towards my breasts.
“Hmm” Mod places his fluttering arm limbs below his mouth, his beady eyes staring at my chest. “You seek to remove fleshybits?” He suggests, reaching for one of his many strange-shaped knives and saws nearby.
“No!” I shoot back, although there was a time not long ago where I longed for their removal. The unwelcome part of me that draws so much unwanted attention and agitation. “No, I meant this voiding brand that’s been burned into me.”
Mod leans closer, inspecting my cracked skin as if I’m one of his inky jarred specimens. “Flesh, partially healed, inefficient mammaloid skin leaves permanent scar. No?”
His words draw a disappointed sigh from my lips. “Don’t you have some Mod-like oil or weird glowing cream that can make it go away?” I ask, my voice laced with desperation.
“You mistake Mod’s artistry for magic?” His antennae twirl as a reflection of his amused tone. “My magnificent abilities appear like magic to species with reduced cranial capacity. No?”
Says the Glaseroid with the flat, narrow head!
I stare at Mod, unblinking, but he seems oblivious as he busies himself wiping his instruments. “You could’ve just said no,” I retort, hopping off the bench. Already the antiseptic strong-smelling cloth has lessened my pain. “Thanks Mod,” I offer with a smile, turning to exit the lab. “I’m off to visit the Captain.” My bold words elicit a pang of anxiety that I soon suppress.
Mod waves a dismissive, elongated hand over his head. “I prepare more swollen mammaloid ointment. No?” he sighs.
Not if I can help it. Not this time.
I clench my fists, my resolve stoked, yet a treacherous part of me wonders if, under pressure, will my strength persist? Imagining the snarling, twisted face of Hyanxa fills me with fear, but also anger.No, I’m changed now. I can sense it deep inside.Maybe some of Xandor’s bravado has rubbed off on me? Or was it when I took those sniper’s lives? Having faced death, I no longer fear it? All the pain I’ve endured? Whatever the reason, it’s hardened my determination.
I march across the dull arcweave gray gangways. The foggy, recycled, clammy oxygen clings to my skin like a suffocating blanket. It is so stifling and oppressive now, compared to the open, gleaming glitz of Omega Flux Station.
My ears pick up the low hum of the hyperdrive engine purring throughout the corridors, meaning the ship must already be off the station, hurtling through space once again. Kaanus will be angry. The visit to Omega Flux was a complete failure. With the trade goods lost and the scoomer trade turning into a terrifying battle.
And then all the talk from the strange, scarred Jungarian, claiming Kaanus was a slaver. The implications burrow deep in my mind, yet with all the ensuring chaos I couldn’t pay it any heed. But the questions come swirling like a cosmic maelstrom.Was I a slave? Am I a slave? The Captain’s tale of how he rescued me from slavers—a fabrication?I take a deep breath nearing the Captain’s chambers now, forcing the questions down. If he’s angry at me already, I dare not provoke him further with these questions.At least not yet.
As the door swooshes open, I thumb my locket, the smooth surface a familiar balm that helps calm my anxious thoughts. The Captain’s chamber is the second largest quarters on the ship. I’ve avoided this area as much as I could. Standing in it fills me with apprehension as I study the clothes strewn about in the darkened room. Until I groan spotting the small laced undergarments that could only belong to Hyanxa.
Moving further inside, the only light source illuminating the room sits above a polymer bed, framed by wardrobes lined against the metal walls. “Who is it?” Kaanus snaps, his voice groggy and a little slurred.
Kaanus stirs, removing his blankets as I notice many bottles of spent alcoholic beverages scattered near and around him.“Just me... Tyrxie,” I reply, stepping into the open bedroom with tentative steps.
Motion catches my attention to my left as I draw my blade, dropping into a crouch. It’s Hyanxa, with her automatic weapon leveled at me. She too is crouched, lying in ambush in the room’s corner, shrouded in shadows, like a deadly predator awaiting her prey.