Page 32 of Stripped By the Alien

Second, have you seen or heard of exotic crash debris?

Third, have you seen or heard of unusually energetic or disobedient captives or rescues?

Keep this message a complete secret! For the Glory of Queen Szum-zic and her Brood!

So ordered by

Chief Harrower Krix’vorr.

Got it?”

“Yes, Chief Harrower,” the signals chief says and hurries to his communications wall.

The crew do their best to look busy. We all know that the Beast mostly flies herself. She may be the best tamed ship in our whole Brood, and yet it can be useful to have a crew.

I sit down on my Chief’s seat and let out a breath as it adjusts to make me comfortable, slowly pulsating in the way the Beast knows I like. “It pains me to keep secrets like this. But nobody may know.”

Sris climbs up and grabs onto my upper arm. “This secret won’t keep for long, sir. But if others like her have been found, it would make your discovery much less valuable and it would turn this all into a race.”

“We can handle a race to find that planet,” I ponder. “But not if we start from far behind.” I think of the alien, her big, dark eyes, her round face. “She almost escaped. She almost killed herself. She acts nothing like prey. Does she perhaps realize what I intend to do with her planet?”

“Perhaps,” Sris says. “Perhaps she has enough Brood-spirit to want to kill herself instead of risking you finding her Brood and Nest.”

“Or perhaps it was an escape attempt,” I counter. “Yes, I think that was it. She was genuinely surprised to find herself in space. That was the Beast’s doing, not hers.”

I put one leg up on a cushion that grows up from the floor for that purpose. “She acted after capture. She acted with great spirit. And I can’t ignore the way she dealt with that minefield. With both bravery and skill. She almost got through it! She’s a dangerous one, that alien.”

“That dangerous alien is now in your personal chamber,” Sris reminds me. “Shall I have her put in a holding chamber instead?”

I raise one hand. “No, no. She’s safe where she is.”

“I was thinking of the safety of our ship and our Brood,” Sris says with some coolness. “Not of the safety of an alien captive.”

“Captive or guest,” I drawl. “It depends on how useful she is. You! Navigation chief! Bring a map.”

“Yes, sir!” The underling scurries to obey and brings me a big star chart, much more detailed than the one I showed to Nora. The creature writhes in its bowl and then settles into stars and space lanes and imperial frontiers and other useful markers.

“We are here,” I ponder, pointing with one finger. “Still near the minefield. The alien did mention others, likely earlier scouts. I want us to complete a patrol of the whole outside of the minefield. We shall look for other small ships. Perhaps we may invite more of Nora’s kind. Or capture them. Before anyone else can.”

“So we shall delay the reports of your discovery even further?” Sris asks.

“It will mean some delay,” I concede. “But it would be embarrassing to go to the Royal Nest and then find that someone else has already found the same type of alien and perhaps even its planet. No, it would be more than embarrassing. It would be destructive! My whole career at stake. We will do this right. The Queen will understand.”

“I would submit that deep understanding for errant males, Chief Harrowers or not, is not our beloved Queen Szum-zic’s strongest quality,” Sris points out.

“Ah, but I’m not errant,” I explain, both to Sris and to myself. “I am being prudent and serving our Queen and her Brood as best I can. If we do find another, we shall make all haste to the Nest and present our discovery. Including the location of the rich world that Nora certainly comes from.”

“You could find out now,” Sris persists and holds up both claws. “And I mean now, within the next smallcycle.” She quickly opens and closes the claws with metallic snicks. “That lack of shields does render the alien immensely vulnerable.”

For some reason I feel an immediate anger at the suggestion of torturing Nora. “Sris, your point is taken. Now be quiet, or I shall suspect you of being in the service of another Brood!”

Sris quickly climbs down from me. “I’m only in service to you, Chief Harrower,” she insists. “It is my task to serve you in serving our Queen. But these things must be pointed out.”

I lean back in the seat. What might she be doing right now in that chamber? Possibly she’s lying down, resting after a challenging time. Because being ejected into space must be challenging for a completely shield-less species. She must have been close to death for the second time in just a cycle or so.

To be so fragile! To only barely survive a short-smallcycle outside in space!

“Perhaps I should check on her,” I mutter. “Perhaps she needs more healing after all. Perhaps she’s dying right now.”