Page 50 of Wanted By the Alien Warden

“Not really,” I told him. I took another swig of water, making sure not to dribble any this time. “This program wasn’t arranged between two government bodies. I’m actually employed by a corporation based on Elora Station. They specialize in selling travel services and advertising space. The Zabrian Empire hired them to coordinate this project. And they hired me.”

That made me think, though…

What if I decided the program shouldn’t go ahead?

And instead of making any kind of difference, I simply got fired and replaced with someone else who’d do the work in my stead?

Somebody who didn’t care as much as I did?

“I see,” Warden Tenn said, interrupting the suddenly sour turn of my thoughts. “And how long have you held your current position?”

“Almost seven months, now. I spent a few months getting the advertising sorted out, communicating with the empire, organizing travel plans, and writing that book, of course.”

“And you like your work?”

“I… I do,” I replied, a little surprised and flattered that he seemed so interested, not solely in my job and how it would pertain to his men, but in me. My feelings about it all. “I mean, it’s definitely the best job I’ve ever had.”

At least, it was before I had to deal with the stress of unwittingly sending human women off to potentially get chopped up by alien axe murderers…

“You’ve had other jobs before this?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said with a bitter laugh. “Nobody gets by on Terratribe I without working. Unless you’re, like, some rich politician’s wife or something. I worked in a shuttle engine factory for more than ten years. I did everything I could to move from the assembly floor into staffing, and I took night classes on subjects like communications and business. All that experience helped get me my role on Elora Station as the human-Zabrian liaison for this program.”

Warden Tenn tilted his head slightly as he regarded me. His eyes deepened to umber and amber now that the sun’s last rays were disappearing.

“You have worked very hard.”

Ah. Poop. That should not make me feel like I wanted to weep. I really needed him to go back to the annoying warden instead of this serious, sincere,I see you, Tasha, warden.

“Haha,” I chuckled awkwardly, trying to disguise my wet, sniffly inhale. “Yeah. I did. I wanted to do whatever it took to get off Terratribe I and build a new life on Elora Station.”

The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

“And you’ve succeeded.”

“Ah, yup.”

Why did that feel like a lie?

“I, too, have succeeded in one much smaller and less impressive feat,” he said. He stood and shook out the shiny pants. “Here you are.”

“Oh! Thank you,” I said, scrambling to my feet to take the newly completed garment. “I’ll go try them on. You should eat,” I said, using the pants as a sort of flag, flapping them in the direction of the food he hadn’t yet touched. I clutched the pants close to my chest with one arm, scooped up my bag with the other, and scurried into the tent.

Between the lack of sun outside and the substantial leather walls of the tent, it took ages for my eyes to adjust. Eventually, I could make out just enough in the gloom to get my pyjamas on, the completed set.

Oh, boy. I wanted to cry again. The pyjamas were the whisper of heaven on my skin.

It was like getting hugged by a fucking baby angel.

What is it with me and baby angels these days? And bats out of hell?

You’d think the warden was some ancient demon or fallen god, with all the symbolism my stupid brain was coming up with.

“Tasha?” Warden Tenn’s voice drifted through the muffling leather. “Let me know if I may enter. I cannot knock upon thetent as you directed me to do with the door. I fear it will fall down.”

I laughed quietly, then halted.

Was that a note of concern I detected in his voice?

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