Page 10 of My Alien Bughead (Supernova Casanovas #4)

Chapter 10

D’Aakh

I am the most intelligent person on this ship. Maybe even this sector of the galaxy. It might sound cocky and vainglorious but it doesn’t make it any less true.

It’s not often I am surprised by something I wouldn’t have expected in my wildest dreams. Today? I’ve been shocked twice in less than ten minutes. It makes me think the stims I’ve been taking are really doing a number on my brain.

The first time was when I heard Lucía explaining both the inner workings of a space cruiser and the current state of this ship. Her earlier statements, I could have brushed off as lucky guesses but the way she spoke just now…

There’s no denying it anymore. The human does have some knowledge. Just how much? I don’t know but she’s far from the clueless, brainless pest I considered her to be a few minutes ago.

My conscience rears its stupid head, reminding me that I’m an asshole for how I’ve treated her so far. Stamping it down, I remind myself that she’s still an intruder on my ship and I won’t let her mess up the Supernova more than it already is.

I work alone. Lucía Nores has to leave. End of story.

The human female might be intelligent, skilled and strong and— I stop myself before my thoughts run riot in the wrong direction. She might be all that but she’s not staying. And if me being mean gets her off my ship faster, then I shall continue doing so.

Getting back to my original thought process, the second shocker of the day is an even bigger face-slapping surprise. I can’t even begin to comprehend the stunning sight before me. Lucía runs into my back as I’ve practically frozen mid stride. Her hands press into me as she rights herself. Even through my combat uniform and the chitin plating, I can feel her warmth, her electromagnetic field modulating to a frequency that seems to be reaching out straight to my ahni.

No.

Stepping forward, I swiftly move away from Lucía, thankful that she doesn’t follow. She’s clearly too taken aback by what the Serramorphs have done to this place. Truth be told, so am I.

It’s like stepping into another world. My crewmates’ superior hearing wasn’t wrong. A waterfall does cascade down what appears to be rocks on the opposite side of the room. An actual waterfall with some not-so-actual rocks. We don’t haul stones around in space, so the Serramorphs have creatively turned what looks to be old cargo containers, scrap metal, and universe knows what else into a craggy structure resembling a rock cliff about twice my height.

The water cascades into what is either a small lake or a large pond, not sure what the difference is. It’s also made out of pieces of metal carefully welded together. The sides are smooth and gently sloping, offering safe and easy access to the water like a swimming pool. The soft lapping of the waves underlies the sharper rush of the waterfall, the sounds combine to create a very relaxing backdrop.

It’s not even the freaking waterfall that is most surprising, though. It’s the greenery.

“Holy fucking shit!” Astra exclaims from behind us. Heedless of her own safety, she pushes between Lucía and me, entering the large open space in front of us. “Since when do we have a park with a waterfall and a plunge pool?”

“We don’t,” I say. “Or didn’t, at least.”

Some larger ships have biospheres, open spaces with real plants and water features where the crew and passengers can relax and soak up some simulated sunlight. Those ships are massive, though. Like battleships housing thousands of soldiers, generational ships that entire species live in, or luxurious cruise ships. Not something as relatively small and utilitarian as the Supernova.

Tareq rushes to Astra’s side, stopping her from touching a vine crawling along the wall. Like all the plants here, it’s still small, only reaching up to my waist, but if left unchecked, it will completely cover the walls within a few weeks. A thin layer of soil covers the floor around the pond with grass and flowers sprouting from it. Improvised planters of all sizes line the walls, holding saplings of plants I’ve never seen before. Bushes and trees, presumably.

“Don’t touch anything,” Tareq admonishes Astra quietly. “It could be poisonous.”

“But it’s so beautiful.”

I roll my eyes. How humans survived evolution, let alone became a dominant species on their planet, is a mystery to me.

With a groan, Zarkan squeezes himself through the tight passageway and stands next to me. “I’m not going back that way,” he grumbles, stretching his arms out. As usual, his body language is perfectly controlled. The only thing betraying his surprise at our surroundings is the slight widening of his vertically slitted pupils. “Hmm,” he grunts, scratching at his chin. “Didn’t know we had such large rooms in the ship's underbelly.”

“We don’t. Or rather, didn’t.” I point out at the lines on the wall a few feet away from us. “There used to be a bulkhead there. And there. This probably used to be a workshop or maybe a research lab for the engineers. Surrounded by storage rooms. The Serramorphs removed all of the non-load-bearing bulkheads to create…” With a shrug, I throw my hands out. “Well, this. Whatever this is.”

Something in the air changes. Tingles of awareness run down my spine. Automatically, I grip my assault rifle and raise the barrel. Unconsciously, I step in front of Lucía to shield her from danger…because she’s an unarmed civilian in a potentially hostile environment, of course. Not because I care about her specifically.

There’s no skittering. The layer of soil on the floor makes the Serramorphs’ approach soundless.

“Three on the left,” I announce, my voice tight as I take aim at the closest insect.

“Two on the right,” Tareq echoes.

That’s five. The headcount said six adults, plus one juvenile. We’re still missing two. I’m not discounting the juvenile. For all we know, it could be more dangerous than the adults.

The Serramorphs stop about two dozen feet from us, arranged into a half circle around the fake rock structure. Only now do I notice a darker space there. An opening, like a cave. Whatever it is, they’re set on protecting it.

They’re not making any aggressive movements toward us, merely blocking our path but I’m not fooled by their seemingly peaceful behavior. They’re myriapods, and each of their many pairs of legs ends in either sharp-looking pincers or claws. No doubt, they’d be able to shred a person to bits in mere seconds, if given a chance. I’m not planning on giving them that chance.

Lucía moves, as if she wants to pass around me but I sidestep to block her path. “Stay behind me,” I order.

“Pfft.” She snorts. “Who put you in charge, bughead?”

My grip on the rifle tightens until the plastic components squeak. “Listen, zeeva ,” I all but snarl, provoking her with the animal nickname, “I—”

“Silence.” Zarkan moves forward until he’s face to face with the Serramorphs. Or rather, they’re face with his hips. He’s not visibly armed, though I’d bet my left ahni he has more than one weapon hidden on his body.

He holds the datapad in front of him. Some of the insects tilt their heads curiously, but none approach or make any threatening moves. Still, I keep my barrel trained on the bugs on the left, ready to take them down at the slightest sign of aggression. I know that Tareq is doing the same. We’ve been in the thick of things together so many times that when it comes to combat, we don’t have to verbally communicate anymore.

“I’m Zarkan,” our captain introduces himself. “I’m the captain of this ship.”

Disharmonic squeals and chirps come from the datapad as Cai translates Zarkan’s words. The Serramorphs edge closer, chirping and squeaking in response. After a short back and forth, Cai says, “They aren’t happy dealing with a male leader.”

“Of course they aren’t,” Astra says, shoving at Tareq. “Especially since these hotheads are aiming guns at them. I’ll talk to them.”

“Like hell you will.”

Tareq tries to stop her but she pierces him with such a fierce glare that he freezes in his tracks. “Try and stop me, tigerman,” she hisses, “and it will be just you and Lady Right Hand for a month.”

Tareq’s jaw works as he looks between Astra and the Serramorphs, then he huffs in defeat. Just as I expected, when push comes to shove, his mate is the one in charge. “Fine,” he grumbles. “But I’m coming with you.”

“Fine, but put the gun away first,” Astra commands. Tareq, whom I’ve seen face down hordes of armed-to-the-teeth Ataxi without a sliver of fear, capitulates without a word of protest. Seriously, mated males are the weakest creatures ever.

Motion behind me catches my attention and I glare at Lucía as she tries to follow Astra. “Where do you think you’re going?”