Page 24 of Exiles on Earth

“We have credits, I understand now. And they’re an enemy?” He cracks his knuckles.

“Not in, like, they’re going to swoop down and attack us. It was a joke.”

“A joke,” he repeats gravely. “The translation my nanites offer is irreverence, talking flippantly.”

“Right, with the purpose of making the other person laugh.”

His scales pale. “I’m sorry I didn’t laugh. I don’t mean to cause offence, I?—”

“Don’t panic, it’s okay—” I’m too late. He falls to his knees on the wet gravel, forehead grinding into the ground.

This guy could fold me in half, and it’s like he’s scared of me.

I tug at his arm. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Stand up.”

He gets to his feet slowly. “I don’t understand ‘okay,’ either. There’s so many definitions being added constantly.”

“How can you guys learn a whole other language so quickly? I’m kind of jealous.”

“Your parlance is an evolution of trade standard. My nanites recognize the patterns and pick up the adaptations as we speak more.”

Wow. “Wait, what? Trade standard? You mean… English is the basis of your common trade language?”

He inclines his head. “Better to say, trade standard became the basis of your language.”

I gulp. Hard. “Doesn’t that imply we do know about civilizations outside of this world?”

“The evidence suggests at some point, you did.”

“Mind blown. Which is an exclamation of amazement,” I quickly add, before there’s another mistranslation. “I wonder if the government’s aware and covers it up. I’m not one for conspiracy theories, but now I’ve met a real life alien, well, it’s looking more and more plausible.”

I don’t know why I’m telling him this. Maybe it’s the aftermath of shock, some kind of trauma bonding, or it’s been a while since I’ve had someone paying close attention to every word like there’ll be a test later.

He points to the lean-to. “This space will be suitable for us.”

“It’s exposed to the elements,” I caution, as if it isn’t obvious while the wind sweeps drizzle under the tin roof. “My dad built it to house the Land rover, but then we started putting recycling in it, and, well… there’s too much to do and not enough hours in the day.”

He runs his hands over the concrete breeze blocks making up the back wall. “It’s got an acceptable vantage point so we’re aware of and can monitor visitors to your compound.”

“Won’t you be cold?”

He blinks at me. “As I explained earlier, we change our body temperature at will. You don’t need to concern yourself with our wellbeing.”

“Okay, I’ll stop worrying about it. Lean-to’s all yours.”

Something unguarded flicks across his face, a split-second vulnerability. Like regret. Quickly it’s gone, and he continues inspecting the blocks like he’s looking for a secret hole.

I shake off my hair as I step under the roof of the lean to, listening to the rain rattle on the top. Another deluge starting up, as usual. I turn to face the house and what’s left of my barn. Water slicks the blackened beams, making them glisten in the dim light of early evening. My breath catches.

Ilia moves to my side. “We couldn’t help… the crash. I will use my Gerverstock strength to restore it, and my crew all have different skills but valuable ones.”

“You’d better,” I mutter. “What’s a Gerverstock? I thought that was your surname.”

He taps his chest. “More of me. Types of copies.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know the words yet, but I will learn and explain.”

“Okay.” I’m not sure what I feel about him. Pissed he broke my barn, absolutely, but right now, mainly curious. He’s clearly trying to help, and he’s also quite obviously apologetic.

What twists my gut like the spinning thresher of a combine harvester is how he’s acting like he expects to be arrested or, worse, beaten any second. Like he’s afraid.