Page 6 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander
“Remember what I said,” Hyanxa warns, her voice now calm. She stalks out of the shower room, leaving me crumpled and broken, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs.I did nothing, I did nothing! Why does she hate me?
I am a stupid little cunt. Why did I risk the shower? I should have known better!
Chapter 3
Tyrxie
The job
After Hyanxa leaves, Itake a moment to wipe the tears from my eyes and ignore the throbbing hot pain in my cheek and nipple. There’s no time left to waste. I must escape this trap of a shower.I’m too vulnerable here.Moving towards my bunk with desperate haste, I pluck out new clothes much like my previous ones, only not marred by disgusting grime. These old ones are only fit for incineration. I ready myself, tightening my holster, already feeling more secure as I check the knives hidden in my pockets.
The gray polished metal container near my narrow bed contains precious little other than clothes. I have almost nothing, just bits and pieces and a few credits I’ve scurried away.Except for one item, the most important item in the world to me, even next to my large combat knife.
My knife failed to protect me from Hyanxa.
No, my locket is the better item. It’s never betrayed me. A token from my unknown past, the only clue left to me. I hold the smooth golden object; it feels so familiar. Countless times I’ve clutched and stroked it, seeking some reassurance and hope. Instead, its surface reflects the low white artificial light projected from the ceiling now polished to a mirror sheen.
I separate the delicate latch with deft fingers, revealing a colored picture of me. Or at least the old me, the me I can’t recall ever being. In it I’m a small little girl with green eyes brimming with joy, with a future which should have been full of happiness and safety. A tiny plaque rests below the oval image, engraved with some strange text, unreadable and agonizing.
The answer is so close it’s maddening, yet it always eludes me. Dozens of times I’ve sought so-called learned peoples on various space stations and planets, with the faintest flicker of hope, only for it to be snuffed out with a soul-crushing shake of a head or disinterested scoff.
I’m wasting too much time here.
I rarely sleep in my bunk anymore. Instead, I prefer to snooze nestled hidden deep in the bowels of the ship. Being unpredictable is better, and today is without a doubt a no-bunk day. So I pocket my locket, still stroking it with gentle fingers. I let out a loud sigh, realizing they will expect me to help load the ship with resupplies and whatever trade items Kaanus has picked up.
Exiting the crew’s quarters, I march towards the cargo hold that sits next to the docking hatch. My arcweave tipped boots echo off the gray metal gangways as my ears pick up the low rumble and bang of heavy goods being hauled. I take my timekeeping my pace slow. Lifting heavy cargo is not something I’m gifted in as I examine my thin, pasty white arms with a grimace.
Look as thin as Job and Mod’s head antennae.
The sounds grow louder as I approach. Numerous voices can be heard now. Sounds like most of the crew are there. I take a deep breath, trying to control my increasing heart rate. Hoping that they might be close to finishing the haul. I step through into the largest open room aboard Mutalisk’s Hammer to see much of the crew carting strange wooden boxes and barrels, piling them on top of each other.
“There you are, Tyrxie,” Captain Kaanus smiles down at me as he stands near the door with his wrist console activated, likely counting stock. He towers over me. Being several heads taller, his face scaled with white and a blue tint that almost shimmers. It turns into a frown as his milk-white eyes, that I find hard to read, scrutinize me. “What happened to your face?” he exclaims in shock.
He rushes over to me, his long gray coat with large lapels and collar fluttering in his haste. My heart pounds in my chest. Hyanxa’s threats, still fresh and full of dark promise, echo in my mind. I avert my eyes from him. He strokes my cheek with a gentle touch, tutting and examining the throbbing mark.
Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!
“You know what she’s like, Kaanus.” Hyanxa hops off a pile of boxes shadowed in the corner, so shrouded I didn’t notice she was here. The sight of her steals my breath and my gaze lowers even further. “Silly little thing probably banged her face, ducking through somewhere she shouldn’t be,” Hyanxa approaches, her golden eyes narrowing at me. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes... yeah, I bumped my head helping Job earlier,” I stammer out the lie, to see Hyanxa smirk before she sidles up at Kaanus wrapping herself around him, running her hand over his spikey head.
Kaanus chuckles “Fine, be more careful next time.” He gazes down at Hyanxa, who is almost purring with her head against his broad chest. He strokes her long red hair and the two of them engage in a wet, sloppy kiss. His lips lap with hunger into the muzzled jaw of the sadistic Jungarian that causes me to avert my eyes in case I throw up.
I remember kissing before on a space station, an alien boy, with lost eyes like mine, but still it was awkward and stupid.
Quad whistles echo through the cargo hold, as the hulking Barlyxian, with four large muscular arms that he never ceases to remind us about as if we can’t see them, carries two huge containers with ease. “You seek room!” He bellows out towards the Captain and Hyanxa, laughing.
Kaanus shakes his head as he goes back to examining boxes while inputting stock into his wrist console, as Hyanxa stalks out of the room, causing me to breathe a little easier. “Give them a hand, will you?” Kaanus gestures towards me, still glued to his holographic display.
Quad’s immense belly shakes with laughter. Despite his imposing appearance, bald head, flat nose and sharp protruding teeth, there’s a childlike innocence in his demeanor. “She no help. She only has two thin arms!” He slams down the two hefty boxes he’s carrying with a thud for emphasis.
It couldn’t have been Quad. I never would have escaped his powerful arms, right?
“No, Quad, you risk rupturing my liquids!” Mods’ skittering arm limbs flail in protest as he scurries over to inspect the boxes. His beady eyes dart around the containers. Mod is the exact double of his brother Job, except maybe Job’s exoskeleton might be a touch darker, but that might be a trick of the light. “If liquids mix, might create deadly toxin! No?” Mod protests.
“Pfft. Not break. Strong Klendathian wood,” Quad scoffs, straightening some cases. I ignore the two, instead headingtowards the strange purple sunlight beaming in through the docking hatch. The towering Triandale huffs and puffs, passing me, carrying one large container in his thick, rough-skinned hands.
Where Quad is the widest person I’ve seen and two heads taller than me, Triandale is the tallest, a head even taller than Quad. But Triandale is all elongated, curved neck, thin and lanky with deep-set eyes that seem full of sorrow.