“You don’t like to ask for help, do you?” he calls after me.
Gritting my teeth, I turn back around. “Look, buddy, I—”
“I have rather good hearing,” he continues. “I wasn’t trying to stalk you or eavesdrop, but I think I gathered that you want to see alien tech? Is that right?”
I eye him. “That is really stalkerish.”
“Is it? Considering it seems like you’re the one stalking me?”
"How can you even say that? When you showed up at my… Just stop." I say, feeling more than a little threatened and put off by this heavily muscular, too-tall male. He's at least a foot and a half taller than I am. I'm five foot. Short. Very short. Next to him, I'm a bug, and he's a giant. I don't want him to know that where we first met is my home.
“I can stop. You can continue on walking and leave and not have a chance to see any alien tech.”
I glower at him. “What is it you want from me?” I blurt out. “You that desperate for sex that you’re willing to pimp out your tech?”
He blinks a few times. “We do think about things other than fucking. I wasn’t thinking about fucking you. If I was, I would be hard. I’m not.”
I can't help peeking, and I'm shocked to realize he's right. He's not hard. Unless he has a teeny tiny cock, and from what I've heard, that's not the case with the aliens.
Flushing, I lift my gaze to his face. He’s smirking again, and I have to admit that I deserve that.
“I can’t bring you to the machines I brought over to your military, your government,” he says, “but I can bring you on board my ship. You can look around, and I’ll answer any questions you have. How does that sound?”
“Why?” I ask suspiciously.
“Why what?”
“Why are you willing to do this for me?”
“Why not?” He shrugs. “What else am I going to do?”
“If you’re bored, I’m sure you could find a woman to fuck.”
He bursts out laughing. “You won’t quit with that, will you?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You’re right. I could find a woman to fuck if I wanted to.”
I can feel the heat of his gaze, but I refuse to look over. I really need to stop talking about sex with him, but I can’t help it. He makes me feel all on edge, and I don’t like it. When I’m on edge, I say my thoughts out loud, and everything I know about the aliens is related to sex. I’m not going to talk to him about anything personal, so the only connection I can make with him is about sex.
Not that we will ever have sex.
Not that I’ve ever had sex.
Yes, I’m a virgin. Of course I am. What guy would want to be with me? I bathe regularly in the pond near my place, but I don’t have access to a proper shower. I don’t have a house. I make do the best that I can, but I’m odd, and that won’t ever change.
There was one guy I thought that I could maybe be with. A guy who I thought I could maybe let in. No. Of course not. I’m so seriously jaded that it took me a long time to be able to talk to a guy after shit hit the fan. Not literally. I don’t have a fan, at least not one that will blow on me. All of my fans are built into my machines. They get more love than I do.
The ship isn’t that far of a walk away. It’s just beyond the base. No one is walking around, and we’re all alone. I try not to feel uncomfortable entering an enclosed space with the alien, but he doesn’t do anything to make me feel this way. It’s my own past issues, maybe, but that’s all right. I’d rather be on my toes and be careful and guarded than risk getting hurt again.
Rix gives me a tour of the place, and I eye the control panels, the setup, all of it, and I'm not impressed. Not at all. Years ago, when I was about ten, I sneaked onto an alien ship. It was right when I was starting to tinker a great deal.
I run my hands over the dashboard. Sure enough, there’s a slight divot where young Ava tried to pry a piece off to see what was underneath.
It’s the same ship. The aliens haven’t updated their technology any. To say I’m disappointed is an understatement to the nth degree.
5
Rix
It’s clear from the shining light of wonder and joy in Ava’s eyes dimming to a dull spark that she’s not impressed. She looked so beautiful with her eyes on fire as she stepped on board. She tried to hide her excitement, of course. I don’t understand her, not really, but I think I might want to.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “You don’t seem happy.”
“Happiness isn’t an emotion I ever feel,” she says distractedly, running her fingers along the dashboard. Her fingers stop, and she scowls.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why do you keep repeating yourself?” she snaps. “Do you have a limited vocabulary?”
“No, not at all.” I appraise her. She’s tough. She doesn’t like to have help.
Why do I care?
Maybe because I’ve felt the same way. I’ve experienced a lot of freedom that most Kurians and Novans never had, and I like to push things to the limit. I like to do things myself, to do things my way. If someone gets in the way, look out.
So I can respect that, but clearly, she wants something. She’s after something.
“You can leave at any time,” I tell her, leaning against the doorway to the cockpit, crossing my arms as I appraise her. “You don’t seem to be happy with the tour, and I’m sorry I bothered to help.”
She glares at me.
