Page 33 of Wrecked By My Alien Mentor

“Alright, Cora,” Pyke says, his voice carrying that mix of authority and casual charm. “Let’s get you suited up.”

He hands me a small case, and I pop it open to find a pair of contact lenses. They look like the kind you’d get from an optometrist, but I know better. “These’ll transmit everything you see and hear back to us,” he explains. “Just pop them in, and we’ll be your eyes and ears.”

I nod, slipping them into place. They feel like regular contacts, but the moment they settle, a faint green light flickers in the corner of my vision. “Got it. I’m officially your spy cam.”

Pyke grins, his sharp teeth glinting. “Exactly. Now, this—” He pulls out a small bottle of nail polish, the label unassuming. “—is your secret weapon. One swipe of this on a grolgath, and their shapeshifting ability is toast. But be careful. The effects are… dramatic. You’ll know when it works.”

I take the bottle, turning it over in my hands. “Dramatic how?”

“Let’s just say it’s not pretty,” he says with a shrug. “But it’s effective. Just make sure you’re ready before you use it. No second chances.”

I nod, tucking the bottle into my pocket. “Got it. No pressure.”

Pyke claps a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but not unkind. “You’ve got this, Cora. Now, let’s go over your story.”

We move to a nearby table, and Pyke pulls up a holographic display of Luhr’s file. “You’re going to tell him you used the creamer on Orion. Describe the symptoms—convulsions, foaming at the mouth, the works. Make it graphic. He’ll eat it up.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re really leaning into the trauma angle, huh?”

“It’s believable,” he says with a shrug. “You’re supposed to be shaken up. Just don’t overdo it. Let him think he’s convincing you to join his cause. You’re not eager—you’re conflicted.”

I nod, committing the details to memory. “Got it. Traumatized, but not too traumatized. Conflicted, but not suspicious.”

Pyke smirks. “Exactly. You’re a natural at this.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on my lips. “Thanks, I guess. Anything else I should know?”

“Just remember,” he says, his tone serious now. “Luhr’s dangerous. Don’t let your guard down, even for a second. We’ll be watching, but if things go south, you need to be ready to act.”

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

The cloaked shuttle hums softly as it glides over St. Louis, its transparent hull making the city below look like it’s suspended in midair. Pyke sits across from me, his scales catching the faint glow of the cockpit controls. His tail flicks lazily behind him, the only sign he’s even remotely relaxed.

“Remember,” he says, steady, “you’re not just selling the story. You’re sellingyou. Luhr needs to believe you’re desperate, angry, and—most importantly—vulnerable.”

“Got it,” I say, my fingers drumming against the armrest. “Desperate, angry, and just unstable enough to be useful.”

Pyke smirks, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “Exactly. Play it up, but don’t overdo it. We’re counting on you, Cora.”

The shuttle lands silently on the roof of Orion Plaza, and Pyke steps out first, his massive frame scanning the area for threats. He gives me a nod, and I follow, my heart pounding in my chest. He heads inside to coordinate the extraction team while I make my way to the coffee shop, the weight of the mission settling heavily on my shoulders.

The cafe is quiet, the hum of low conversations and the hiss of the espresso machine filling the air. I take a seat at the same table as before, my hands trembling slightly as I pull out my phone. I text Lars, keeping my message short and frantic:Need to talk. Now.

Twenty agonizing minutes later, he walks in, his ice cream white suit pristine as always. His eyes lock onto me, and he slides into the seat across from me with the calm confidence of someone who’s always in control.

“Cora,” he says, his voice smooth and composed. “You look… distressed.”

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. “You were right. All along. Orion—he’s not human. I didn’t believe you, but I saw it. I saw what he really is.” My voice cracks, and I let it, leaning into the performance. “He—he started convulsing. Foaming at the mouth. I thought he was dying, but then—” I cut myself off, rocking slightly in my chair. “How many of them are there? Anyone in this cafe could be one of them?—”

Lars leans forward, his expression unreadable but his voice calm. “Shh. You’re safe now. But you’re right to be afraid. This city, this world—it’s not what you think.”

I nod, my eyes wide and unfocused. “What do I do? I can’t—I can’t just ignore this. Not after what I’ve seen.”

He smiles faintly, a hint of approval in his gaze. “Being afraid doesn’t mean you can’t fight back. There are others like you. Like me. People who know the truth and are ready to do something about it.”

I hesitate, feigning skepticism. “What kind of people?”

“People who want to take back this planet from the invaders,” he says, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Come to a meeting. See for yourself.”

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