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Her head rolled against his shoulder as she peered through half-lidded eyes at the ship’s interior as they passed. Metal walls rushed past, their surfaces pockmarked with rivets and seams. Corridors stretched into a maze of right angles and intersections that seemed to go on forever.
Checker plate flooring clanged dully beneath the alien’s feet, echoing off bare metal panels lining the walls. Exposed pipes and conduits snaked along the ceiling, disappearing into shadowy recesses. Harsh, fluorescent lighting cast a cold glow, creating shadows that danced and shifted as they moved. Then they passed through a door, and the scenery changed. The alien carrying her lowered her onto a soft surface. A bed. The change in position sent a wave of dizziness washing over her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the world to stop spinning.
“It’s alright,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “You’re safe now.”
She forced her eyes open and tried to bring the world into focus. His face swam into view, hovering above her with an expression of concern etched into his features. Despite the strangeness of his appearance—the hard cheekbones, heavy jaw, and the edge of his fangs peeking past his lips—he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, transforming his expression into something warm and inviting.
“Thank you. You’re quite lovely yourself.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized she’d said that out loud. Despite her embarrassment, words spilled out, and she couldn’t stop them.
“Your eyes,” she mumbled, “they’re like…like starlight. And your fangs…are they sharp?”
The alien’s smile widened as she reached out to find out for herself, and he captured her wrist in a gentle grip.
“Perhaps we can explore that when you’re feeling better,” he said, his voice morphing into a low purr that sent shivers down her spine.
Her heart fluttered in her chest, a mix of embarrassment and something else—something warm and electric that she couldn’t quite name. She wanted to say more, to explore this strange, intoxicating feeling, but his expression sobered.
“I need you to hold still for me, sweetheart,” he said, his tone becoming more professional as he looked up at something. She tried to twist to see whatever it was but gasped as her head swam. “No, don’t move. I’m going to scan you to figure out what they shot you up with. Once we know, I can administer an antidote. You’ll feel much better soon. I promise.”
She nodded… or tried to. It felt like she was disconnected from her body as if she were floating just above it, linked only by the thinnest of threads.
A soft whirring filled the air, and he looked above her head in expectation. The scanner machine, she realized dully. He was scanning her to make her better. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, without warning, every cell in her body screamed in protest. She felt as if someone had flipped a switch, and pain flooded her system. All her muscles tensed, coiled tightly like springs ready to snap. Fight or flight instincts roared to life, drowning out all rational thought.
“No!” The word tore from her throat, but it wasn’t her voice. It was the voice in her head… and it had taken control of her body.
Her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the alien’s wrist with inhuman strength. She could feel the delicate bonesbeneath his skin and knew how much pressure she’d need to grind them to dust.
His eyes widened, darting between her face and the vise-like grip on his arm.
“Jane? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Scan field incompatible with power core,” the voice continued, using her mouth like a puppet. Hearing it out loud rather than in her head was odd. “Overload risk.”
Understanding dawned in the alien’s eyes, and he nodded. His wrist still caught in her grip, he leaned over her, reaching out. The device powered down, the whirring sound cutting off abruptly.
Relief washed over her. The tension drained from her body, leaving her limp and shaking on the bed. She released the alien’s wrist, a pang of guilt rolling through her at the red marks her fingers left behind.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, in her own voice this time. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s alright,” he cut her off with a smile. “No harm done. I should have been more careful.”
He studied her face intently.
“How do I help you then?” he asked, running a clawed hand through his hair in a surprisingly human gesture. “I need to know what they gave you and if it’s dangerous. Without the scan, I’m flying blind here.”
Before she could answer, the other voice took over again.
“Subject has been administered a cocktail of neuro-inhibitors,” the voice stated flatly. “Primary components include fifteen milligrams of zeta-hexacycalodine, thirty micrograms of neo-thalassic acid, and five units of polytriphtic quasimorine. Secondary compounds detected: trace amounts of beta-isoflavonoid complexes and approximately two CCs of metachromatic nanite-binders.”
The alien’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening with each unfamiliar term. He nodded, already moving to gather equipment from various cabinets and drawers.
“Fascinating, utterly fascinating,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “A synthetic neurotransmitter inhibitor, coupled with… hmm, yes, I see.”
