Page 60 of Alien Attachment
“I make no promises about the shooting,” Jhorn says with dry humor. “But I will ensure any such encounters are resolved quickly and decisively.”
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in months. “You know what? I think I can live with that.”
As The Starlight Tether carries us toward our uncertain but chosen future, I realize that for the first time in my life, I’m not running from something. I’m not driven by debt or desperation or the need to escape my past.
I’m running toward something better. Something I helped build, something I chose, something that’s mine not because I was born to it or assigned to it, but because I fought for it.
And that makes all the difference.
“Course laid in,” Lila announces. “Estimated arrival in the Helix Nebula: five days, fourteen hours, thirty-seven minutes.”
“Then I guess we’d better get comfortable,” I say, noting the way Jhorn’s bond-lines pulse with anticipation at the prospect of five days alone together in hyperspace. “This should be interesting.”
“Indeed,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to that register that makes my pulse quicken. “Very interesting indeed.”
Through our bond, I feel his hunger, his plans for how we might spend those long hours between the stars. And around us, Lila’s amused observation that perhaps she should develop some selective awareness protocols if we’re going to be spending extended time in close quarters.
I grin, settling back to enjoy the journey. Whatever the Helix Nebula has in store for us, at least we’ll arrive thoroughly satisfied and ready for anything.
After all, we’re not just a crew anymore. We’re a family. And there’s nothing the galaxy can throw at us that we can’t handle together.
“Hey Lila?” I say as the ship settles into the steady rhythm of hyperspace.
“Yes, Kaylee?”
“It’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back,” she replies. “Now, shall we discuss our new criminal enterprise? I have several proposals for maximizing profit while minimizing legal exposure.”
I exchange a look with Jhorn, his alien features lit by the warm glow of his bioluminescence. “You know what? Let’s hear them.”
As Lila begins outlining her surprisingly detailed plans for our future operations, I can’t help but smile. Some families bond over dinner and holiday traditions. Apparently, mine bonds over heist planning and creative interpretations of interstellar law.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Epilogue
Jhorn
IobserveKayleefromthe galley, noting the precise way her fingers dance across the navigation controls, the subtle tension in her shoulders that indicates concentration, and the seventeen different micro-expressions that cross her face asshe calculates orbital adjustments. My enhanced vision catalogs each detail with the thoroughness my creators intended, but the pleasure I take in watching her is entirely my own innovation.
She has been piloting for 3.7 hours without break, her dedication to our safety both admirable and concerning. Her biological systems require regular rest intervals, hydration, and what she terms “actual food instead of synth-paste garbage.” I have prepared a solution to at least one of these needs.
The tray in my tendrils contains my latest attempt at synthesized coffee—a beverage whose molecular complexity continues to challenge my understanding of human preferences. My first efforts were... educational disasters. Kaylee’s colorful descriptions included “battery acid,” “liquid despair,” and my personal favorite, “what I imagine engine coolant tastes like if engine coolant could disappoint you personally.”
I have since recalibrated my approach seventeen times.
“What are you up to back there?” Kaylee calls without turning around, though I feel her awareness of me through our bond like sunlight on water.
I do not respond immediately, savoring the anticipation that builds between us. My tendrils have learned to appreciate dramatic timing—another skill not included in my original programming but highly effective in generating what Kaylee calls “that insufferably smug alien look.”
Through our connection, I sense her amusement despite her attempt at exasperation. This is perhaps my favorite discovery about human emotional complexity—the way annoyance and affection can coexist in the same moment, creating fascinating feedback loops through our bond.
“I have been conducting advanced molecular gastronomy,” I announce, approaching with the careful precision I reserve for carrying substances that could theoretically be consumed by human digestive systems.
Her laugh ripples through our bond before reaching my auditory sensors. “Is that what we’re calling your ongoing chemical warfare against the synth-unit?”
“Scientific methodology requires persistent experimentation,” I reply with dignity, though my bioluminescence betrays my amusement. “Previous iterations provided valuable data regarding optimal flavor compound ratios.”
