Page 60 of Stripped By the Alien

His hand moves slowly along my arm. "I decided when you identified the wreckage. Well, before that, really."

I study him for several moments. He's completely serious. Somewhere in his mind, the search has already become another objective, another challenge waiting to be solved.

The strange thing is that I believe him. Because every impossible thing that's happened since I met Krix'vorr has ended the same way. He decides to do something, and then he does it.

His arm tightens around my waist and pulls me closer. "We'll look for her, Nora."

The certainty in his voice settles something inside me. Sophia is still missing.

The Gzet are still out there. Nothing about the situation has improved. And still I feel sure that everything will work out.

Krix’vorr gets up. “Put your tape on. We’ll start the search for the other alien.”

I get out of the alien bed and pick up the old tape. Now it’s more like a long strip of plastic, with no stickiness left.

I pick up the roll of tape. “Can you cut some pieces off this?”

Krix’vorr draws his sword, and I pretend to not see the congealed blood of the locust he killed after the battle. He cuts six inch-long pieces from the tape, and I use them to fasten and secure the non-sticky strip of tape that I wind around myself. By the end, I look much like before I took it off, but now it only sticks in a half-dozen important places and I’m sure I can get it off on my own.

“If you come across actual fabric, I’d love to get some,” I tell Krix’vorr as I adjust the still ridiculous covering. “It doesn’t need to protect me that much against meteorites and assassins. It just needs to fit me.”

The locust touches my hip with two fingers. “I would prefer it if it did both.”

We leave his personal chamber and move through the Beast again. The warm organic corridors feel familiar now, though I still can't look at them for too long without remembering that we're walking through the insides of a living creature.

The Beast's pulse travels beneath our feet in a steady rhythm, while crewmembers hurry past carrying bundles of biological equipment I can't identify. After everything we've learned about Sophia, I'm eager to move forward, yet the activity around us makes me suspect that finding her won't be simple.

As we continue deeper into the ship, I notice that the atmosphere has changed. The battle is over, yet the Beast feels more active than before. Membranes open and close constantly. Messengers hurry from one chamber to another. Groups of locusts cluster around tablets covered in writing before dispersing again.

"What are they doing?" I ask.

Krix'vorr glances toward a group of crew before answering. "The battle ended. Now we determine what it means."

I consider that while we walk. On an Earth vessel there would be reports, tactical reviews, sensor analysis, intelligence summaries, and enough bureaucracy to bury everyone involved beneath paperwork. The locust version appears more direct. It looks like information flows toward the strongest mind available. That mind examines it and decides what happens next.

When we enter the command chamber, the atmosphere changes immediately. Several crewers rise from kneeling positions. Others stop what they're doing and bow their heads.

The giant viewing lenses still show stars drifting past outside, though many of the secondary lenses now display enlarged images of the damaged enemy vessel, fragments of the wreckage field, and biological diagrams that seem to depict injuries suffered by the Beast during combat.

Nobody waits for Krix'vorr to ask questions.

Information begins flowing toward him immediately. One crew member presents a tablet. Another reports observations from the battle. A third provides updates on the enemy vessel's condition. Krix'vorr stands in the center of the chamber while information arrives from every direction. Occasionally he asks a question. More often he glances at a report, hands it back, and moves on to the next one.

Watching him is strangely fascinating. A few hours ago I watched him command a living warship in battle. Now I'm watching him command information with the same confidence. He never appears rushed. He never appears uncertain. The crewers seem to know exactly what he expects from them, and he seems to know exactly what to ask.

Lucius comes buzzing, staying out of the way close to the wall. “As far as I can gather, they’re trying to find out where those Gzet aliens took Captain Crendle. They keep assuming that she’s dead and that her body was taken. The wreckage looked too damaged for her to be alive.”

“I still think she is,” I tell him softly, satisfied that finally I can tell him something new. “Because the Gzet are a slave trader species that like to permanently alter their captives and then sell them. To me, it seems unlikely that they would bring a dead body anywhere.”

The drone lifts his front edge, an AI’s way of displaying surprise. “Really? Krix’vorr told you that?” His voice is barely audible, even if it’s projected only at my ear for privacy.

“He’s on top of things, Lucius. I think we’ll find Sophia pretty soon.”

“And then Krix’vorr will have two captives,” the drone points out, his light a tense yellow.

I don’t like his tone. “Mhm. Am I a captive? Krix’vorr claims that he rescues me and would take me back to Earth if I would tell him where it is.”

“He obviously wants to know where Earth is so he can strip it bare.”