Page 64 of Exiles on Earth
“Come on, let’s get the first aid kit or whatever the equivalent is.”
He’s flummoxed. The big guy who punched through a prison door lets me lead him, surprised when I try to look after him. He counters stubbornly, “I will live until my nanites repair the damage.”
I fold my arms. “Don’t make me order you around.”
His eyes flash, something in them answering my challenge. He squares up to me, me, a tiny human against his massive frame, then he nods.
The thrill of an enormous, powerful man bowing to my whims is intoxicating. No wonder the females on his planet like it that way, but I wouldn’t enslave him the way they have.
Nor would I use his ingrained matriarchal culture against him. That would be unfair.
The captain stammers, “Acco... accommodations,” his voice halting as though the word is foreign to him—just as Ilia’s had been when his nanites were first adapting to English. His pale eyes flick to me briefly before darting away. “Please. Not good, but yours.”
I glance at Ilia, his broad frame stiff and towering in the corridor, his scales dull but his eyes burning with restrained anger. While I don’t like the idea of leveraging his culture, I haveno problem using it to ensure his safety. I straighten my spine, making my voice firm but polite. “I want Ilia nearby. Please.”
The captain’s head snaps up, his gaze locking on mine for only a moment before he bows deeply. “Affirmative, female.”
“And,” I add quickly, my words tumbling out before I lose my nerve, “don’t hurt him.”
“Affirmative, female,” he repeats without hesitation, bowing again.
Yuck. My stomach twists at the overly deferential tone. Thank goodness Ilia doesn’t talk to me like that. The captain keeps his gaze averted, head tilted down as if I’m too bright to look at directly or he’s afraid of offending me. The other crew members keep sneaking wary glances at Ilia, their fingers twitching near their weapons.
The corridor we walk through feels like the inside of a dark, mechanical beast. The walls are a sleek, gunmetal gray, lined with pulsating conduits that hum faintly. Floss’ toenails clink along the metal as she slinks beside me. Overhead, strips of harsh white light flicker intermittently, casting the narrow space in an eerie, stuttering glow. The air is cool, sterile, and heavy with the faint tang of ozone.
The captain moves briskly, his steps sharp and precise, leading us deeper into the ship. At every corner, crew members pause to gawk, their eyes darting between me and Ilia. I catch a glimpse of their weapons—sleek pistols with glowing accents clipped to their hips, and coiled whips that shimmer with faint, lethal energy. My pulse spikes, but I keep my expression neutral, hoping they can’t sense the hammering of my heart.
Finally, the captain halts before a door that hisses open with a hydraulic sigh. He gestures for me to enter, bowing again. “My cabin,” he says apologetically, his voice tinged with what sounds like shame. “Not worthy, but yours. Only bed. Shower.”
I peer inside. The room is small and stark, dominated by a narrow cot bolted to the wall and a compact shower stall in thecorner. Bare metal walls surround me, except for a single glowing panel which hums softly. The shower fixture is installed above the sink, and there’s a box I don’t want to think about right now. It’s hardly luxurious, but the thought of warm water after everything makes my muscles ache with longing.
Ilia steps closer, his towering presence filling the doorway. His eyes scan the room, lingering on the bed, the bathroom, Floss making her way in to curl on the floor between us, and finally the captain. The scales along his arms ripple subtly, a silent warning.
“It’ll do,” I say, keeping my tone calm but firm. “Thanks, captain. I’ll be fine here.”
The captain bows once more, retreating a few steps. “Anything, female. Call, we assist.”
As the door hisses shut, sealing us in, I turn to Ilia. His gaze remains fixed on the door, his entire body taut like a coiled spring.
The unsaid lingers between us. He seemed so happy with me, but then he called more aliens. Is he trying to go back to Oloria, and I’ve inserted myself into his life?
I head for the shower, the promise of warmth and a moment to think almost overwhelming.
“I’ll stand out here,” Ilia informs me, like he’s my bodyguard or something.
“Thanks,” I whisper, but I still can’t help feeling a lot has changed. I go inside the bathroom with Floss and shut the door.
I strip quickly and stand under the faucet, ready for a stream, but instead all that hisses out is damp air. Ah. Water has to be a valuable commodity on a spaceship. I make the best of it, tears pressing against my eyes.
This is an adventure! An adventure I don’t want. It’s hard at home but I’m happy working, being useful. What use would I be on an alien planet, one with few women? I can’t help but imagine the worst.
Ilia won’t let anything bad happen to me, I know that. The way his body glows red, his form doubling in size like a force of nature unleashed. How he punched through that steel door to catch me mid-fall—it was something otherworldly. Almost terrifying, if I didn’t know him.
I shut off the mist of water, staring blankly at the tiled wall. Each black hexagonal tile feels like a piece of a puzzle I can’t solve. I’d been so laser-focused on saving my farm, building my barn, and keeping my dream alive that I barely noticed him worming into my heart, how I cherish all the deeper, quieter qualities he has. His patience. His understanding. The care he showed in helping me.
My cheeks flare hot. And his attractiveness. That had definitely slipped under my radar, too. Now, I can’t stop noticing it. The way his scales shimmer under the light. The way his quiet intensity fills a room.
I press my forehead against the cold tile, exhaustion pressing heavy on my shoulders. When did my life shift from fighting foreclosure to grappling with wanting to date an alien? And now, bigger questions loom: Where are we going? How long before I can get back home?
