Page 14 of Stripped By the Alien

A junior navigator freezes when he notices us approaching. His eyes widen before he quickly bows deep. I ignore it and continue walking. The navigator's attention immediately returns to the female, his expression filled with fascination rather than alarm.

The same reaction appears throughout the ship. The female notices it as well. I can tell from the way her gaze moves between crew members, lingering on faces before returning to me. She seems puzzled by their behavior, which is understandable.

I know what she is in the most basic sense. She is an unknown alien. She is a pilot. She is female. What I don’t know is where she originated, and that question grows larger every time I examine the evidence.

Her vessel was beneath our standards. It was built, rather than grown. Dead, rather than alive. Yet even that takes effort. Metals must be refined. Energy systems must be manufactured. Complex materials must be produced in enormous quantities. Someone built that ship, and someone almost certainly built others like it.

Somewhere beyond the minefield, a civilization exists.

The thought sends a pleasant thrill through me. Years of searching. Years of pursuing fragments and rumors. Years of rivals insisting there was nothing in that direction of space. Now I am carrying proof through the corridors of my ship.

"Chief Harrower," Sris signals.

I glance toward her. “What?”

She points to my antennae. "You seem pleased."

My gaze drops to the female again. Her eyes narrow the moment she notices my attention. Apparently she interprets observation as hostility, which is an understandable conclusion given the circumstances.

I pass through another membrane. "I suppose it’s pleasing to me that the healing process worked, even with this alien."

Sris studies me for several moments while we continue walking. Then one claw rises thoughtfully. "It worked remarkably well. Arguably better with her than it would have with another of your kind. It was very quick, despite her plainly being close to death."

“She was receptive,” I say curtly.

“Extremely receptive,” Sris says. “The vreths must have worked immediately. The exact right vreths. On an alien.”

I pass through another membrane. “And it saved her life.”

Sris looks over at the alien. “It was very quick.”

I choose not to pursue that line of discussion.

Ahead, another membrane parts to reveal the passage leading toward my quarters.

The female moves in my arms. Her eyes remain alert despite her condition.

Good. Dead pilots answer no questions.

I lower the female onto the resting platform in my quarters. She immediately pulls the transparent medical sheet higher around herself and fixes me with a suspicious stare.

The reaction is understandable. If our positions were reversed, I would also be suspicious.

An underling comes running with his hands full of the items from the medical bay and places them on the floor. “This is everything it came with, Chief Harrower.”

“'She', not 'it',” I growl. “Dismissed.”

The crew member tears his gaze away from the alien and leaves.

The Beast closes the entrance membrane behind us and the sounds of the corridor fade. For the first time since recovering the female, I find myself in relative privacy.

Sris climbs down from my shoulder and lands on a nearby table, watching while I turn my attention toward the equipment that accompanied her aboard my ship. "What now, Chief Harrower?"

I study the scattered objects before answering. Sections of damaged suit plating rest beside small fragments from the wreckage. I spot tools and exotic materials and several layers of fabrics.

The female follows my gaze immediately, and the alertness in her expression tells me she understands the importance of the items every bit as well as I do.

"Now," I reply, "we learn what she brought with her."