Page 35 of Stripped By the Alien

“Its petals move in sync with your speech. I wonder if-”

At that moment, a membrane opens and Krix’vorr comes in, ducking his head. “Nora,” he rumbles. It comes out “No-oara,” which I kind of like.

“Krix’vorr,” I reply, doing my best to make the alien sounds. “Do you have some actual clothing for me?”

Lucius translates, but so does the flower that Krix’vorr attached to his chest. It even uses my voice.

“We shall see about the clothings,” Krix’vorr says, and I jump as the flower by my ear repeats his words in almost perfect English and in his voice. “You may not needs much of it yet.”

Okay. So now we can talk for real, using the translation flowers that seem to do even better than Lucius. And it’s a Space Force principle that attack is the best defense. “I will need clothing, as anyone will. Also, when will you release me? I feel perfectly recovered now and I can go back to my own world. Thank you very much for helping me. I shall be sure to describe your great heroism to my people.” It’s all improvised on the spot, and I can hear it’s not great. But he has to know where I stand.

Krix’vorr comes closer. Despite the large room, he seems to fill all of it with his great size and intense presence. “Of course I shall take you back to your world, Nora. Simply show me where it is.”

“Oh, I can’t ask you for such a favor,” I tell him as sweetly as I can. “It would be much better if you simply lend me a small ship, a shuttle perhaps, so I can make my own way home. I wouldn’t want you to risk anything more for me, and that minefield is still in place.”

“You would brave the minefield in a small shuttle? We already know how that would end.” His voice is deep and resonant, and it fills the room just like he does. It’s physically impossible to look at anything else than him.

I’m barely aware of my surroundings when Krix’vorr is near. He has this predatory aura, as if he could turn into a whirlwind of violence at any time. But then he also has this total confidence in every movement and every word, that makes me think I’m totally safe with him. And he has saved my life twice now, both times at great risk to himself. It’s screwing with my mind really bad.

“I know the minefield now,” I point out. “Going back through it will be easy.”

“I have no small craft to spare,” he rumbles. “I will now summon the star chart again, that you may show me where your world is.” He speaks alien words that are not translated by the flower.

“He’s talking to the ship itself,” Lucius says softly. “Giving orders through it.”

“There’s no need to get a star chart,” I state. “I have only ever seen one and don’t know how they work. I couldn’t possibly help you.”

“Then tell me, in your own way, where your world is,” the giant locust says with a hint of impatience.

I lean against the soft window. “I can’t. I can only find it when I’m flying a small ship by myself. That’s how my kind navigates through space. By… umm…”

“By pure intuition,” Lucius whispers.

“By pure intuition,” I echo. “By feeling. Not by seeing and planning.”

The translation hangs in the air while Krix’vorr stares me down so hard I have to look away.

“I’m not accustomed to being told obvious nonsense.” There’s a snarl to his voice that chills me. “I have seen the wreckage of your ship, and you are plainly not equipped to travel in space except in machines. You are in my ship now, and you shall speak the truth!”

The last word comes like a whiplash.

Shit. He’s seeing right through my lies.

The membrane opens, and the locust comes in, carrying a bowl with that living star chart from earlier.

“I always speak the truth,” I assure him, but the sudden tremble in my voice betrays me.

The lobster places the star chart bowl on the bed.

“The minefield is here,” Krix’vorr says, and the lobster points to a line in the bowl. “We are here. One of these stars must be your home star. Which one is it?”

I glance at the bowl. I can immediately see which of those points has to be the Sun. “I don’t understand any of this. It's very pretty, though.”

Krix’vorr takes a step closer. “I saw you fly through the minefield. I saw you try to escape from my ship. I’m talking to you now. And you are far too bright to not understand.”

“Sorry,” I say with a shrug. “I can’t help you with this.”

I press myself harder against the soft window. Lucius hovers near my shoulder while the lobster crouches beside the star chart bowl on the bed.