Page 13 of Stripped By the Alien

The alien slows as he approaches. Up close, he's even larger than I'd first thought. The colorful plates covering his body shimmer with shifting shades of blue, green, gold, and violet whenever he moves.

That realization doesn't improve my mood. "Stay back," I tell him, tightening my grip on the sheet.

For a moment he pauses. Hope immediately tries to convince me that he understood. Then he takes another step, and the hope disappears just as quickly. Behind him, the lobster waves both claws enthusiastically, apparently delighted by whatever it thinks is happening.

Great.

The Space Locust stops a few feet away and lowers himself. The movement brings him closer to my level. His antennae make small, thoughtful motions while he studies me. His huge alien eyes are deeply unsettling, despite their beauty. It feels like he looks right through me.

My gaze flicks toward the nearest membrane-covered opening. For a moment I consider making a run for it. The idea falls apart almost immediately. I don't know where I am. I don't know where any of these passages lead. I don't even know whether the atmosphere beyond this room is safe for humans. The fact that I'm considering sprinting naked through an alien vessel says more about the contents of that Bliss Pack than my judgment.

A strange thought occurs to me while I watch him: He's being extraordinarily careful. Every movement is deliberate. Every gesture seems designed to avoid frightening me. That doesn't make me trust him. It does make me wonder why he's trying so hard.

The moment of hesitation is enough. The Space Locust reaches forward.

I gasp and scramble backward, but the platform ends before I do. One moment I'm sitting upright. The next I'm tipping sideways toward the floor. The alien moves with startling speed. Before I can hit anything, one arm catches me while another slides behind my back.

Suddenly I'm off the table.

"Oh, hell no." The protest emerges much weaker than I'd intended.

The Space Locust lifts me as easily as though I weigh nothing at all. Panic immediately gives way to a different concern as I grab for the sheet before it slips away. Somehow preserving the tiniest shred of dignity still feels important.

The alien appears completely unaware of this crisis. One powerful arm supports my back while another rests beneath my knees. His grip is secure, steady, and infuriatingly gentle. I especially dislike that part.

If he were rough, this would be simpler. If he were obviously cruel, I could fit him neatly into every story I'd ever heard about his species. Instead he's carrying me with the sort of care usually reserved for something fragile.

I struggle anyway. The effort lasts only a few seconds before reality reasserts itself. The Space Locust doesn't tighten his grip or attempt to restrain me further. He simply keeps walking, apparently having anticipated this reaction from the beginning.

The lobster scurries ahead, clicking excitedly as it goes. A membrane covering the opening peels back into the wall like a living curtain, revealing the passage beyond. The Space Locust carries me through it, and I find myself staring into a world that seems impossible.

The corridor glows with soft internal light. Veins pulse beneath translucent surfaces. Strange living structures protrude from the walls and ceiling. Nothing appears manufactured. Nothing resembles any ship humanity has ever built.

For the first time, I am looking into the heart of a Space Locust ship.

4

- Krix'vorr -

The female continues resisting all the way to my quarters.

I would've expected exhaustion to overcome her by now. The healer reported extensive injuries, and several of her inner systems were approaching failure when I recovered her from the wreckage and healed her.

Yet every time I glance down, she's either glaring at me, clutching the fabric around herself, or studying the ship with obvious suspicion. Her determination is admirable. It is also highly inconvenient.

The Beast opens passages before us as we move through her interior. Crew members step aside the moment they notice me, completing the proper gestures of respect before their attention shifts toward the female in my arms. Antennae flare. Conversations stop. One distracted underling nearly walks into a wall while staring. Even now I find myself understanding their reaction.

The female is unlike any species I've encountered.

Her features lack obvious armor, and her proportions seem almost absurdly vulnerable. Yet she crossed a minefield that could destroy ships far larger and more heavily defended than her own. The contradiction continues to occupy my thoughts. Every observation seems to raise additional questions.

"Chief Harrower," Sris signals from my shoulder as another pair of crew members pause to stare. "The crew appears distracted."

"They'll recover,” I grunt.

"Perhaps." One claw makes a doubtful motion. "Though rumors are likely already spreading."

I consider that while we continue down the corridor. Sris is probably correct. By now half the ship has likely learned that I returned carrying an unknown female. By the end of this cycle, the remaining half will have invented details that never occurred.