Page 8 of Argurma Warrior (The Argurma Chronicles #1)

M eg chewed her bottom lip restlessly as she stared at the machine built into the wall. A replicator, the alien had called it. This was the thing that supposedly would be taking care of all of her needs. She didn’t see how. So far, the buttons she pushed had errored out each and every time except the one time that it produced a foul mush that made it her gag in horror at its smell the moment the clear compartment door opened. That was definitely not an experience she cared to repeat but she also knew that she couldn’t go too much longer without eating.

Perhaps she should just swallow her pride and touch the panel that had put her in contact with the big alien in the first place and admit that she needed help. Clearly, he expected her to figure it out for herself and she had little doubt that she would be treated to the same sort of impatience and snarly attitude that she had encountered everywhere else whenever she asked to be shown how to do something. Her world didn’t come with instructions and her family had sheltered her as much as they could before those who remained died, which did her few favors despite the many happy memories she had from her youth. It would be silly, though, if he were overly upset that she couldn’t figure it out. This was not some piece of human technology falling apart from disuse and age. This was alien stuff, and she didn’t know anything about alien stuff. So, he couldn’t be too angry… right?

Meg groaned silently. She hated how even her inner voice suffered from obvious anxiety. Licking her lips, she debated the panel beside the machine once more, indecision warring within her.

“Do you require assistance human life form?” A voice interrupted from above, making Meg jump and skitter back closer to the wall.

Her eyes snapped up to the flat, metal ceiling above her just as a light dropped down and scanned over her before disappearing entirely. Her heart thumped in her chest as she continued to stare up at the ceiling, waiting for something… anything… else to happen. Who was that? It wasn’t her alien. The voice possessed a leveler pitch and a softer cadence to it while being entirely cold and impersonal in ways that the alien couldn’t seem to carry off when speaking to her, if that was at all his goal. And what was that light?

“Who are you?”

“Degarath. I am the ship’s elite caliber AI unit designed for navigation and the needs of its crew. Model 2560Zincron. Please identify yourself human life form for the crew manifest.”

She blinked. Crew?

“I think that there’s been a mistake. I’m not a member of the crew. As far as I know I’m a captive here.”

“All captive lifeforms are assigned to containment cells in the cargo hold. You have been assigned crew cabin one. If this is in error…”

Her eyes widened. A containment cell didn’t sound good. “No! My mistake. I’m a crew member. Ah, my name is Meg Hart.”

“Acknowledged, Meg Hart. My scans indicate that you are unnourished and dehydrated. It is recommended that you acquire the appropriate nutrients for your body.”

“Yeah, I got that but I... I don’t know what those exact needs are. Or how to use this thing.” She winced at how pitifully helpless she sounded.

Great way to start making your way into a new life on a new planet, Meg. Just show them that you are as helpless as you are useless. Guaranteed to make any alien want to help you and keep you around long enough to show you how to survive.

“Do you require assistance in operating the replication unit?” it replied in the same flat, inquisitive voice.

“Yes, please,” she burst out in relief at the lack of judgment in its offer.

There was a very brief hum that she might have considered a sound of agreement or satisfaction if it had sounded like there was a real person behind it. It was so odd to think of in that way since what spoke that wasn’t a person? She knew it said that it was an elite model AI but that didn’t mean anything to her. What she did know was that there was something distinctly off about it that didn’t even mesh up to the strange way of speaking and mannerism of the alien.

“My scan reveals indicates a high probability of compatible physiological needs with the Argurma species. Place your hand on the replicator’s scanner. It will run a more detailed scan of your nutrient requirements and offer several options of food and drink that will be safe for your biology,” the voice informed her. “From there you merely make your selection from the menu. Modifications had been made to the dish by opening a side menu up at its icon.”

“Yeah, let’s not make this too complicated,” she muttered, flattening her hand against the uplifted, lit up metal area that she assumed to be the scanner.

The light flashed painlessly as it rolled back and forth along the length of her hand with a soft hum. As it worked, it sent a tingle up her arm that made the hairs stand on end as if getting hit with a good dose of static electricity. Although it didn’t hurt, it was unsettling. She considered just pulling her hand away—it should have enough information by now as far as she figured—but, to her relief, it gave one last long flash before a glowing menu sprung up in front of her. She peered at it curiously. The layout was similar to some of the faded diner menus she’d come across while salvaging. At least that much was familiar. Her eyes skimmed over it. Naturally, nothing looked even remotely recognizable.

“Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. Seems that I’m back to experimenting. Well, at least I know it’s all edible and I won’t accidentally poison myself with anything I select. That’s at least something.”

The slop that Meg managed to finally get from the machine after a couple of misadventures with her selections, didn’t seem particularly edible in appearance, but she was so hungry that she couldn’t really bring herself to care too much. She paled a little at the appearance of it and winced slightly as she brought a chunk to her lips, but she quickly shoved it into her mouth and chewed before she could change her mind. Her expression eased as she chewed a little slower in consideration.

As odd as it looked, it wasn’t terrible.

In fact, it was delicious. Although the texture was something she had to get used to, it did somewhat, at least, resemble some of the old packets of dried noodles that she and her friends had found in their youth and eagerly eaten up before anyone discovered them. These noodles, however, were thicker and covered in a spicy sauce with thick chunks of shredded meat mixed among them and bits of some sort of alien vegetation that had a sharp bite to it.

Licking the remnants of sauce from her lips, Meg reached over and picked up the cup at her right to take a sip of the clear liquid she’d initially assumed to be water. She had quickly been corrected on that assumption. Her first gulp of fiery liquid burning down her throat and into her gut. So now she sipped it slowly, enjoying the slightly sweet, fruity flavor to the beverage even as the liquid gradually pooled in a pleasant warmth in her belly.

Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so bad. Good food—a tad bit on the spicy side but filling and tasty, and good drink to enjoy. Meg leaned back in her chair and grinned. She could get used to this. She still didn’t know why he had grabbed her, of all people, and that still worried her, but this was a damn sight better than what she’d been looking at wandering through the wastelands.

Maybe he knew Terri’s alien. They were clearly of the same species—Argurma the AI had called it. Maybe brutish, asshole behavior was just a characteristic of the species. Both certainly seemed to have that same abrasive mannerism. Like it would have killed him to be a little gentler? Then again, Meg had been planning to stab him, so she couldn’t entirely blame him for reacting as he had. In fact, the more she thought of it, the more certain she was that he had to have been sent by Terri. Why else would he have appeared out of nowhere for her? He probably had been tracking her since her departure from The City.

Swallowing what was left of the food portioned out to her, she picked up the plate and utensils and glanced back up to the ceiling.

“Um, Degarath, where do I put these?”

There was a brief flicker of light and she got the intense feeling of being looked at once more. “Place it into the reclamation unit—the large dark dome at the base—and close the hatch to initiate retrieval of matter.”

She glanced down and nodded as her eyes landed on the object in question. It reminded her of a pull-out bin but when she opened it was dark and sterile as if it had never been used. Meg gave it a doubtful look but put her dishes inside and closed it before straightening again. With one need fulfilled, her next most immediate need rushed forward as she grimaced at the thick layer of grime and dirt covering her. Even her hair had grown out over the month and lay in itchy, tangled mats over her scalp.

“Is there anything else you require, Meg Hart?”

“Just Meg. But actually, yeah. Degarath, is there somewhere I can get clean?”

“Affirmative, Meg. Proceed to the door on the right side of the room to access the automated cleansing unit. It is voiced activated for all your grooming needs.”

“And perhaps find something to wear,” she added hopefully.

Her clothes had been old when she got them and were now practically falling apart. Surely there was something on this alien ship that she could wear.

“Acknowledged.”

“Thank you, Degarath,” she murmured as she walked over to the right wall, noting the faint outline of a door shape as she got closer.

That didn’t prepare her quite enough to prevent her from jumping when the door suddenly snapped open revealing the stark interior of what appeared to be some sort of bathroom. Fully automated, Degarath said. Was that a good thing? Warily she stepped inside and jumped again when numerous muted blue lights suddenly snapped on, surrounding her with a soft glow.

“Greetings,” a somewhat more feminine voice purred. “Do you desire a rejuvenating mist or full cleansing, Meg?”

She froze, her eyes widening but then laughed nervously. Of course, Degarath must have shared that information already. This world of machines was a strange one. So different from the quiet, often broken-down ones of her own world.

“Full cleanse,” she replied, stepping into the room.

“Scans show multi follicular protein filaments on your head and covering ten percent of your body. Instructions?”

Oh, my hair.

“Um, yeah. Cut the, ah, head filaments to a length of two inches.” She thought about the ones covering the rest of her body that often made her itch when she got sweaty or couldn’t bathe. “Filaments below the waist can be removed, please.”

“Acknowledged. Prepare for cleansing.”

“Oh, okay. Shit,” she mumbled, hastily pulling off her clothes as a soft whirl filled the small enclosure and the door behind her began to slide shut.

She didn’t quite get it all off and tossed out the door before the door closed entirely and the first of the warm spray hit her. She couldn’t even be mad about it. Not even in The City did water seem to get that perfectly warmed, always being a touch too cool for anything more than a hasty wash. This, however, she luxuriated in as she removed her now sodden underwear and kicked it to a corner of the floor as she rolled her shoulders back and relaxed beneath the hot spray that hit her from numerous sides. Gradually the spray thickened with a foamy lather that she didn’t hesitate to work into her skin and hair before it was rinsed away by another cycle of clean, warm water and replaced by warm jets of air buffering her skin.

It was all so wonderful, and she was lulled into such a relaxed state that she didn’t even startle when the jets cut off and a net of lights quickly slid over her body, conveniently shearing away hair so precisely that she gaped in awe. Not only were her legs completely smooth and free of the coarse hair that had plagued her since puberty but the hair from her head fluttered to the floor around her feet as if neatly sliced away. She reached a hand up and ran it over the soft remaining length and smiled seconds before another warm current of air blew the bits of remaining shorn hair off of her and free from the floor. She truly couldn’t believe such wonders existed!

She was still bemused by the whole experience when she picked up her sodden bra and panties off the floor and stepped out of the cleansing room only to find herself face to face with her captor as he stepped into the room at that exact moment. His violet-tinged eyes widened perceptively as they locked onto her, and Meg felt an apprehensive fear leap to the fore as her entire body locked up in terror of being overpowered in a vulnerable position once again.

“What are you doing? Get out! ”

With a shriek, she rushed him and threw her wet panties as hard as she could. The alien stumbled back with a muffled roar of surprise as the material slapped over his face, his claws going up to them immediately as he dragged the fabric free. She wrapped the bra around her fist, preparing to beat him with it if he should come any closer, but he didn’t. Though the strange tentacles on his head whipped with a loud hiss, and he seemed to be snarling a litany of curses under his breath, he did not so much as look at her. Instead, to her relief, he promptly staggered out as fast as possible, the material still clutched in his hand, leaving her alone once more.

It was only once she was entirely alone that she saw the folded black material on the floor where he had apparently dropped it. Frowning a little in confusion, she bent over and picked it up. It unfolded as she lifted it, showing a form-fitting black suit like the alien wore.

He had brought clothes… for her.

“Well, shit. Now I’m going to have to apologize.”