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ALICE

Out of five hundred and eighty-three initial abductees, there were now two hundred and sixty-nine of us left. Of which two hundred and sixty-seven didn't seem to like me at all—Ava was still my one and only friend, which was fine with me. I liked being on the outer fringes much better than smack center like Josie or Tom, neither of whom ever missed a beat to put themselves into the limelight.

I was much happier in the role of a supporting character than being the heroine of a movie or book—all the bad stuff always happened to them. No, thank you. Whenever possible, I stayed in the background. The one and only interaction I had had with the big, hulking, silver alien so far had been enough for me to keep back whenever he was around. I would have done so during that first interaction as well, but the engineer in me wouldn't stay back while Xyrek was working on taking our collars off. Thankfully, he hadn't shown any interest in me that day or the days following—during which time I was more successful in blending into the shadows. But now, the big alien was carrying me down the hall, walking by my fellow passengers, who stared at me in bemusement, some concerned, some with glee. So far, he was nothing to me but an abstract—an alien who rescued us from the Cryons. I was grateful to him for it and for his promise to take us to a planet called Astrionis, where another alien, Lord Protector Garth, and his human wife, Silla, were building some kind of refugee camp for humans. But a small part of me was very much aware that when Xyrek appeared like an avenging angel on that awful planet and killed our captors, he was like one of those superheroes I'd always fantasized about—he even wore a cape! His silvery skin had looked otherworldly on the barren, red planet. At over six feet tall and impressively muscled, he towered over all of us; he truly was a damsel in distress's knight in shining armor.

His closeness to me was more than uncomfortable when he taught me how to use the tool on the collars; it was too unsettling for my peace of mind, which was why I did everything to avoid another run-in.

For the past week of our journey, I hadn't had any interaction with him. Every now and then, he appeared in the breakroom, or I caught a glimpse of him when he walked down the hall. That was it. I had no reason to approach him, and I wasn't like some of the other women who threw themselves at him, competing for his attention. As far as I was concerned, a low profile was the way to go. I was short enough at five one that most people overlooked me, and that was just fine by me.

But now I was hanging underneath his arm and being carried to his private quarters, and I had no one to blame but myself. Obviously, keeping a low profile was hard when you caused a minor meltdown. Oops.

Any regret I might have felt for my snafu disintegrated on the spot when he told me to follow him. It was rapidly replaced by indignity and then by anger as he pulled me under his arm like a ragdoll—or worse, like I had seen some people carry their dogs.

He put me back on my feet the moment the door closed behind us.

"What the hell?" I fumed, marching to the door and expecting it to open for me like it had for him. It didn't. I whirled around. "What do you want?"

He looked as surprised by what he had done as I was, but he recovered first. "Why were you trying to blow up my ship?"

"I wasn't trying to blow up your ship," I sighed. "I was simply trying to understand how that food dispenser works and see if it could produce more appetizing food." He didn't look like he believed me, so I added, "Look, one of the women is pregnant, and the food is making her sick. I just wanted to fix the damn machine."

That was the truth, as far as it went. All Ava had left was the baby growing inside her. It was all she had to live for. The unappetizing mush Xyrek served aboard his ship made her sick and caused her to throw up even more, so I tried to upgrade the damn machine to spitting something out that actually looked edible. I know that sounds incredibly noble, but that wasn't the only reason. My ingrained curiosity about how things worked had gotten the better of me. I was well aware that in order to carve some kind of life out for myself on Astrionis or in this universe, I needed to familiarize myself with the alien tech, and this seemed a perfect place to start.

"She will have to wait for a few more days. Once we reach Astrio—" he interrupted himself. He looked almost stricken.

"What?" I demanded.

"We had a change of plans; instead of Astrionis, I will be taking you to Morrakbarr."

"Why, and what is Morrakbarr?" I narrowed my eyes. He didn't look happy about his new orders, which raised a silent alarm inside me.

"Never mind that. You still have some explaining to do."

"I just told you." My hackles rose.

"That you were trying to fix the nutrition dispenser, yes. I'd still like to know why you thought you could."

"Oh, I'm sorry, does a woman trying to fix things not fit into your world?" I fumed. I had gotten a lot of shit from many people—men and women—over the years. Apparently, a woman engineer didn't fit into our so accepting world. You're a what ? people would ask at parties, dinners, and even conferences for engineers. Most of my peers were happy because I was someone they could hit on when their nerdiness kept most of the female population away. Think Big Bang Theory … Comics and ComiCon were only the tip of the iceberg. No self-respecting woman wanted to stay home on the weekends to play video games or theorize about a nuclear chip that might make cars drive without gas. Yet even they couldn't hide their smugness over small female brains. So yeah, I was a bit sensitive when anybody tried to allude that I was incapable of fixing a motor or computer simply because I was a woman.

"Of course not," Xyrek denied my accusation. "Females are good at a lot of things. I meant what made you, as a human, think you could fix our technology."

Well, those words weren't much better. They were just as insulting. "So you think my small human mind can't grasp your alien technology?"

"Yes," he simply answered, his eyes challenging me to contradict him—his black, unsettling eyes. I hadn't seen them this close before; I mean, I had noticed that his eyes were black, like all of them, like there was no white sclera or iris of a different color—there was only black. I just hadn’t anticipated how unsettling having those eyes fixed on me would be.

His words, however, didn't sit well with me; they churned my already irritated stomach. "Well, I’ll have you know then that it wasn't my fault that the nutrition dispenser short-circuited," I shot back, crossing my arms. "I was working with subpar alien tech that looked like it was designed by a drunk octopus with a soldering iron. Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to run high-voltage circuits next to a fluid injector? That’s just asking for a meltdown. If anything, you should be thanking me for saving your entire kitchen from turning into a smoking crater."

I jabbed a finger at him. "And for the record, human engineers do know how to fix things—when the tech isn’t held together with what looks like wishful thinking and space duct tape."

His unsettling black eyes narrowed. “Our technology is superior. It has sustained my species for millinias.”

I scoffed. “Yeah? Well, my species figured out how to put wheels on luggage, and it only took us a few decades. So forgive me if I’m not impressed by a machine that explodes when someone tries to make food taste better.”

His jaw tightened. “It did not explode.”

“Oh, right. My mistake. It violently malfunctioned in a completely controlled and non-destructive manner.”

He exhaled sharply. “Do not ever touch anything on my ship.”

“Next time, build something that doesn’t fry itself when you press a button,” I retorted. "Are we done now? Can I go back to the others?"