Page 72 of Uncovered By the Alien Commander

“Good, I’m glad,” Xandor replies, interrupting my jumbled thoughts, wishing I had someone, anyone, who could answer my unsolvable queries. “Although this pales compared to the steaks back home. Not to mention, I nearly obliterated these,” he adds, taking my old plate to cut up more meat.

My greed and rumbling stomach drive me to keep devouring chunks. A frantic part of me wants to finish before something or someone takes it away from me. “I like the burned bits,” I mumble, my mouth stuffed to the brim. “They’re crunchy.”

Xandor shakes his head with a sigh, “It’s supposed to be succulent,” he laments with an over dramatic opening of his elevated hand. “So it melts in your mouth, like soft snow under a pleasant sun.”

Noroth rolls his eyes, and I would laugh, If I wasn’t struggling to swallow. “Oh,” I begin, trying to imagine snow melting, something I’ve never seen. “If it melted, how could you eat it? Like a liquid?” I ask with a grimace, thinking that sounds horrible.

Xandor lets out a soft laugh. “No... It’s hard to explain,” he frowns, his full lips scrunching. “If you ever return to Klendathor, try the steaks in Draxru. Then you’ll know what I mean,” he smiles. “And then you’ll think, ‘Gods, Xandor was right all along!’”

My heart sinks like arcweave slag. I had hoped he would stay with me, that he could show me Klendathor and Draxru, maybe even—Earth. But I told him I wanted to part ways on Nebia, for him to leave me alone.

I’m such a stupid bitch!

“What this really needs is some vegetables, a big plate of fried dumplings and a horn of stiff draught,” Noroth interrupts with closed eyes and a soft groan.

My mouth waters, even though I’ve no idea what he’s listing. Seeing their reaction is enough. To my surprise, I notice my plate is almost empty. Despite my stomach feeling full to bursting, I still crave more.

Xandor must observe my greedy glances. “Here, finish mine,” he offers, pushing his plate toward me with a smile.

Yummy!I drive right in, using both hands with efficient movements, creating a conveyer belt of deliciousness. “Gods, she eats faster than you, Noroth,” Xandor states with a laugh.

My face heats at his words, but I don’t care. Who knows when I’ll have the opportunity for such decadence again? “I think you’re right,” Noroth scrutinizes me with a wide-eyed stare.

I’d reply if my mouth wasn’t sore from chewing. Finally, my stomach gurgles with loud surrender, overwhelmed by this rare treat. “Void, I couldn’t eat another bite!” I exclaim, patting my swollen belly.

Xandor frowns. “That’s lucky. There isn’t another bite remaining,” he says with dry humor.

I smile, glancing towards Xandor. “Thank you. It tasted delicious,” I declare.

Xandor waves a dismissive hand. “Think nothing of it. My only regret is that voiding thing burned them,” he gestures with annoyance towards the perfect functioning food dispenser, as if it’s somehow responsible. “If I were back on Klendathor, with a real natural fire, they would’ve been perfect,” he laments.

My heart thunders in my chest as a bold question forces my lips to open. “Maybe you can show me one day?” I ask, my gaze locked onto his, pleading with every fiber of my being that he won’t reject me.

His golden eyes bore into mine, as if weighing every ounce of me. My very soul laid bare before him. It’s a struggle to resist the urge to flinch. Then my heart shatters as Xandor averts his gaze downward. “No, we are to part on Nebia,” he intones, entombing my desires with such finality, I’m rendered speechless.

He casually shatters my heart, and I know I deserve it.

An incredible tension and awkward silence ensue as I suppress tears that threaten to burst from my eyes. Noroth groans, filling the void. “What food do the Nebians eat?” he inquires, although the question feels hollow—an echo of my soul.

“I don’t know, but judging by their short stature and grumpy attitude, I’d guess—” Xandor begins with a frustrated tone until I interrupt him, driven by a sudden mania that surprises me.

“Why?” I demand,

“Why what?” Xandor responds.

“Why do you reject me?”

“You reject yourself.”

“What the void is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t know your own mind, and when you do, you work against it.”

“That’s not true...”Is that what I’ve been doing?

“It is, and you lack the conviction of your words. Even now you waver, uncertain of what you want.”

“No, I’m just trying to process things.”