What Happens in Orbit Pt. 23

Within minutes of being introduced to the group, Cora regretted it immensely. They were all from the United States, like her, of approximately the same age, but likely from different states.

And most of them scrambled backwards when she walked in. A conversation containing distinct accents tapered off as the door shut.

Cora huffed, taking a seat.

A woman with curly, dark hair spoke up, her accent unfamiliar. "What did they do to you?"

Cora resisted the urge to cross her arms as she surveyed the four others before her. There were some scars, some bruises, but none of them looked like her.

"From the looks of things, not what they did to y'all."

Two more women entered the smaller room, stopping short when they saw Cora. "Holy shit."

There were only two young men in the group, one of them motioning sharply at the woman who spoke. "Shh. Quit it."

"What? You're fucking scary looking."

Cora scrunched her nose, trying to stop herself from glaring. "Super helpful. Thanks. It's not like I want to go back to Earth anyway." From the way they stood, none of them were particularly familiar with each other.

One of the women, a brunette with a low bun, was especially shocked at this. "Why wouldn't you want to go back?"

Giving her a long, dry look, Cora weighed the pros and cons of telling the truth. "Ugh. Fine." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. "I have a family out here. A life. And kids."

Cora had prepared herself for many reactions, but not the one she got.

The woman reeled back, making a disgusted cry. "You let them- you- oh, ew!"

No, Cora. Don't engage. "Unlike whatever they took you for, that's what I was taken for. They changed me down to my DNA. But the crewmembers weren't willing to see it through, and risked their lives to get me out of there."

Her expression didn't change. "And now you're some alien sex toy. With Stockholm Syndrome."

Cora's blood pressure spiked. She could imagine it. She could imagine the consequences of losing her temper. Staying in her seat, she closed her eyes. "Stockholm Syndrome isn't real. It's just an urban myth like... like MSG causing headaches."

"MSG does give people migraines. Everyone knows that. But that doesn't matter. Are you pregnant right now? You gonna bring one of those freak babies back to Earth?"

Cora opened one eye, looking at the others. They'd started to shrink back. "Just leave me alone."

"You might not care about your health anymore, but I do. They've done something horrible to your mind. Don't worry. They'll fix you, they'll make you normal again, and if those fucking freaks put something inside you, they'll get rid of it."

I'll get rid of you. Cora stood quickly. Ah, nope, time to stop. Stop it. "Are there quarters here? Is there somewhere I can go and not get... whatever the fuck she's doing right now? I just want to rest."

One of the other women moved to speak, but stopped herself. The man standing next to her had a patchy buzzcut and similar sweatpants. He looked over, then sighed. "Come on, I'll show you. And quit running your mouth. That motherfucker at the door won't save your life if you piss this chick off. You see them teeth? I wouldn't."

Cora staunchly refused to look around as she left the room. The man, who introduced himself as Kevin, led her to an empty room. There was a pallet on the floor, freshly rolled out blankets and even a pillow. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." The door shut behind her.

How long had it been since Cora slept alone?

She didn't want to think about it.

Maybe I can stay in here until we get there.

She wasn't sure how long she slept for, but it was long enough that she'd got a crick in her neck. Someone was knocking.

"Yes?"

"They brought food." The woman from before opened the door and came in, carrying a plate. Successfully keeping her face scowl-free, Cora accepted the plate. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The woman sat on the edge of Cora's pallet.

"If you're gonna talk to me like you were earlier, please just don't. I'm already going through enough."

She sniffed. "I can tell. You've even got a tail now."

Cora inspected the food. A hard, dry biscuit, and what was definitely cream of chicken that'd just been poured out. She tested it. Ice cold. Oh, well. Food is food. She began to eat, trying to ignore the woman's stare. She's just trying to help. She's been through a lot, too.

"You know, you have to give up on what you had out here."

"Hm?" Cora looked up, chewing on the galaxy's driest biscuit. Maybe they got Popeye's out here. "What do you mean?"

"You don't belong out there. You can find a nice man, or, uh, lady, someone on Earth, especially once you get that tail removed. It'll all get better."

Cora swallowed, trying not to choke. They made this biscuit out of plaster, I know it. "I know that's what you want for yourself, and I'm sure you'll all be able to live wonderful lives. But that's not for me. I was happy. When we get there, I'll be heading down to a base in South America, and hopping on a flight back to my family."

She shook her head, pity and fear apparent on her face. "Babe, no. They don't love you. You're not one of them."

"You don't have a clue."

The woman shook her head again, this time harder. "Look, I'll tell them when we get there. They're gonna help you."

"Who is 'they'?"

"The United States Government," she said.

Cora tried not to laugh, coughing instead. "Like, the whole government? Or just that one person in NASA that worries about space bacteria?"

"No, there's a whole department. They let us speak with them earlier. They'll make sure we're okay and healthy, and then help us restart our lives."

"Oh." Cora feigned pleasant surprise. "They could help me?"

She nodded. "I see how you're carrying yourself, and how you reacted when I said earlier that you're probably pregnant. It's okay. They'll help."

And when you say help, you mean kill it. Study it, put it in formaldehyde. I'd rather eat glass.

Cora had reached a level of anger that scared her. She stood, resting the plastic spork on her plate. "I'm surprised they let you come talk to me. That guy was really worried for your safety."

She drew herself up. "I don't need anyone worried about my safety. And I told them I was going for a walk."

Cora nodded, slowly. "A walk could be good. Do they come collect the trash when we're done eating?"

"Yeah, but the guy that does it hates doing it. He's always saying something under his breath and glaring at us."

The words tumbled forth, her heart pounding. "That's a Foshar for you. I think they're always in a bad mood because they don't have any eyebrows. Want to walk with me back to the garbage disposal? I'd rather avoid dealing with them more than I have to. They already really don't like me. They call me 'troublemaker' in their language. Come on, let's go."

Cora stood in front of the disposal opening, regarding it with some curiosity and disappointment. No matter whose ship she was in, they always put it at far end, and it was always a circular opening, about a foot wide. I guess they all buy it from the same people. Too small to shove anyone down it, though. Anything too large was likely just pushed through the airlock.

The hall was completely empty, save for Cora. The silence was welcome, but very unsettling.

"Idiot," she muttered.

A few minutes later, there was banging on her door.

Cora jumped up, throwing it open. "What?" All four of the others stood in the hall. One of the women spoke first.

"Where's Tanya?"

"You mean- she brought me food earlier and asked if I wanted to go on a walk."

"And then? Why isn't she back?"

Cora plastered a concerned expression on her face. "I walked with her to the back of the ship, we threw our plates away. She wanted to keep wandering and I said no, because I know they have Noxis working on this ship, too."

It wasn't untrue.

"What's a Noxis?"

Regarding them with disbelief, Cora groaned. "You're kidding. Giant flesh-eating spider people? Their queen is the one that ordered us back to Earth for our safety. But, uh, she's got no control over her spawn."

A woman with close-cropped curls was mouthing the words flesh-eating spider people over and over again.

"What are we all yelling about?"

They turned to the left and Cora peeked out the door. A particularly exhausted-looking Foshar stalked their way, both pairs of arms crossed.

"One of us is," Cora looked back at the group. "Missing, I think?"

One of them spoke up, indignant. "Hey!" Whoops. She'd replied to the officer in Roshak. "What'd you say to him?"

"I told him that I think the reason we're yelling is that one of us is missing. He didn't come in speaking English so why would I assume he knows it?"

"Because- oh."

"Yeah, oh. You're focusing on the wrong thing right now." She turned back to the officer. "I showed her where the garbage disposal is. She decided she wanted to go bother the Noxis patrolling the back of the ship."

"There's no Noxis on this ship."

"Hm?" Cora froze, slowly turning to look behind her. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

He leaned forward, irritated. "There's. No. Noxis. On. My. Ship."

Cora giggled nervously. "That's funny, cause, uh, there were two walking around back there. You can't mistake them for anything else. Especially not by the noise and smell. There's at least six total somewhere on the ship. I really... thought... they were crew... members?"

She watched, stomach turning, as the little bit of color in the officer's skin faded, turning him solid gray. He whipped around, hitting a keypad with excessive force. "Szaal!"

"What?"

"Crisis recall the entire crew to the common area, now!"

A soft, pleasant tune began to play over the loudspeakers. It sounded almost like a Nokia ringtone. The officer drew a small sidearm, toeing the door in front of him open. "Tell them to follow."

He's not leaving us for dead. That's nice of him.

"He says to follow him. I'm gonna bring up the back." Cora moved her hand in a quick circle, ushering them through the doorway. There was no scent here, but Cora wasn't telling the Foshar that.

Kevin's voice was steady, with an edge of annoyance. "What's going on?"

"We've got... I think you'd call them stowaways?"

"Flesh-eating spider stowaways?"

"Angela, that's not helpful."

"She's right," Cora replied brightly. "It'll be fine, though."

They entered the common room, the door closing and locking behind them.

"Tanaro, why'd you recall everyone?"

The Foshar officer turned to glare at Cora. "Tell them what you told me."

There were at least ten Foshar manning the ship, all now standing in front of her.

"Well, when I got on the ship, I smelled Noxis, and I've heard them moving around in the att- the superspace. You know, the tap-tap-tap. There were two walking around the back of the ship as if they were patrolling. I even spoke to one, and he smiled at me. Well, I can't really say it was a smile. You know, grr." She imitated the Noxis grimace. "I kinda just kept walking after that. And now one of the humans is missing after she thought she was gonna go wandering around on her own." Now, Cora might have encouraged her to go say hello to the big, friendly Noxis, but that was none of their business.

A Foshar woman interrupted, making a sharp click with her tongue. "We're missing someone as well. Mital isn't here."

One of them vaulted over a table to sit in front of a large, wall-mounted computer. He scrolled through several red squares, tapping one furiously. "Oh. Uh. Mmm. Oh no." He pinched and swiped at the touchscreen, zooming in on a flashing set of numbers until they took up the entire screen.

"Oh no, what?"

"Mital's- hey, see, he could have just taken his monitor... off? Because he's, because otherwise his vitals are... oh, hmm." His voice stayed monotone, even as he gestured wildly. He put his head down on the desk, covering himself with his arms.

"Are there not cameras on this ship?" Cora already knew the answer.

Tanaro groaned. "There are not."

Ray had always made it a priority to never regret anything that led to scientific discovery. His father taught him that.

Unfortunately, the only thing that Cora's death lead to was incredible guilt. No amount of fatherly advice would change that.

As they approached Koramin's ship, he shivered.

"Are you sure you have to do this?" His wife, Zomari, placed her hands on his shoulders. "I know you feel responsible, but you know they're likely to kill you if they catch you. I can't fight them all off."

"I can't hide from them forever, Zomari. They've probably already started hunting me."

She sighed. He'd collapsed to his knees, sobbing in front of the burning wreckage of the building after the summit. "I thought they knew. They didn't know."

She'd been forced to carry him back to their ship.

Now, she trailed behind him as he marched indignantly towards the throne room. He'll get us killed before his former crewmates can even try.

She sighed, hanging back at the doorway and covering her eyes.

Ray tossed the doors open, eyes blazing. "Queen Kora-what?" His bold cry crackled to a whisper.

Tarina sat on the throne, equally confused. "Are you lost?"

"Yes!" Ray stepped backwards and shut the doors. He turned to his wife. "Um?"

"What just happened?"

"Koramin isn't in there. It's her daughter."

"Maybe she's on holiday?"

"My starshine, that's not something the Sheevae royalty do." He pressed his back to the closed doors, wildly looking around. "I feel I've missed something important."

A pair of ship staff were quickly approaching, Tor hot on their heels. "There you are. Come on." He seized Ray's elbow, pulling him down the hall. There was no rage, no vengeful snarl.

Zomari followed from a distance, now even more confused.

Tor stopped short at one of the technical rooms, sending Ray through the doorway first. Zomari stopped just before the door hit her. "Oh, I'm sorry. Come in."

Ray looked around before turning to face Tor. "What's going on? Where's Mar, and all the others?"

"Retrieval mission back to Roshak. Leo and Erie are here. Why?"

Ray took a step back, trembling. "I- I thought you'd be angrier at me."

"For?"

"You know what for!" he cried out. "I was in on the Queen's plan, and the last thing I did was make a sly joke! I thought she was in on it too, and because of my ignorance, she's gone." He dropped to his knees. "Just kill me already. I can't live with so much guilt."

Tor's expression flitted between laughter and shock. "You... you think Cora's dead?"

Ray sat up, freezing in place. "Is she not?"

"No. She just got shipped back to Earth. Told us to have you help her get back."

"But I-"

"You're a dumbass."

Zomari ran her hands over the smooth skin of her scalp. "I told you, Ray. That human is so much smarter than you give her credit for." She sighed, the secondhand embarrassment reaching painful levels.

"Koramin's dead, though." Erie piped up.

"Yeah, queen's dead." Ray stood, brushing at his clothes. "Of course."

"And Cora killed her."

"Yeah, makes sense. Classic Cora."

It was only then that Ray's ears actually passed what he'd heard along to his brain. Comprehension occurred.

Upon understanding, Ray made a noise that Tor would try and fail to recreate, years later.

"Why would we go on a retrieval mission for something unknown? Doesn't that seem like a trap to you?" Mar vented as he marched through the tall grass. The western train line had been downed, the trees in this area still too young to support any weight on their own. "We could be up there, making a plan to get her back."

Della stared hard at the ground. He was very bad at keeping secrets.

Tai, however, was a natural. "It's more likely that they feared the message would be intercepted."

"Then why send it at all?"

"Why," mumbled Della, running a hand under his rifle strap. "It's gotta be important."

"And we had to come get the kids anyway."

"Then why not get them first?"

Tai gave Mar a particular look. "You're arguing purely to argue. I know you want engines spinning and a plan in motion. Let's just focus. We have to survive this and bring the kids back in one piece. And get, uh, whatever Loyma has for her."

"Oh," whispered Tai, stopping suddenly. "Look at that."

The colony had grown considerably. In the distance were dozens of new homes, but just in front of them were the faint glimmer of hundreds of tripwires. Tai's hand shot out, catching Mar just before he hit one.

"It's only been, what, one rotation?"

Tai shrugged. "A bit longer, I think. Our suns alter the flow of time in orbit. Mar, I know you see all those traps."

He grumbled.

Della knelt to inspect one, following it to another tree. Then, he jumped up, crying out. It sounded like the cry of a majestic Targ.

One that was being strangled, maybe.

In the distance, a Roshak leapt into view above a gate with an answering cry. A faint yet resounding click echoed through the trees.

"They're all disabled now. We can go." Della hurried ahead.

Mar trailed behind, grumbling more as he found himself getting wrapped up in fine wire.

"Would you focus, already?" Tai hissed, already at the gate. "You're like a child."

Della shot him a panicked look.

"What? I didn't mean it like that."

"I can hear you." Mar was still a few paces away.

"No you can't," replied Della, turning to jog through the open gate.

Tai let Mar go ahead of him. He wasn't supposed to be here, but Tor couldn't come. And Della, left unsupervised, would have broken down and told him the truth before the ship even left orbit.

Loyma appeared, holding a bundle and beaming. She stopped short. "Wait, where's Cora?"

Tai nudged Mar.

"Oh. The Noxis Grand Mother ordered the Foshar to return her and their other human subjects to Earth. In order to keep us all alive and together, the queen had to agree to her terms. Tarina, since Koramin is dead."

"Then, is she-" Loyma trailed off, patting gently at the lump of fabric in her arms.

"We have a plan. We will get her back."

"If she doesn't get back herself," Della laughed. "Me, I'm expecting her to take that ship over and turn it around."

Tai peered up, one eye open. Loyma was staring at him. "Shit," he swore, ducking his head back down.

"It's fine. Relax, Tai. You're needed right now. Especially since Cora isn't here."

Mar was getting increasingly uncomfortable. "Tai, what the fuck is going on?"

Stepping forward, Tai laced his fingers together. "Cora was supposed to be here for this. She..." He took a deep breath, inching away from Mar ever-so-slightly. "She ended up carrying. Tor told her to wait to tell you until it hatched, so that you didn't have to grieve twice."

It was unfair of him to pass the blame to Tor. Tai had known Mar for years, but he had no clue how he'd react to this.

"So all of you knew?"

"What did he mean by grieve twice?"

Tai looked back, intending to shut Della up before he made things worse. Mar interrupted. "I thought it wasn't possible." His voice was flat.

This hadn't answered Della, but Tai's expression kept him from asking any more questions.

Loyma grew tired of waiting and marched forward. "It is. He's healthy and needs his family."

Mar reached out, using every hand to cradle the now-wriggling bundle. He stood stock-still for several moments.

Tai and Della looked at each other. Della opened his mouth.

Tai punched him in his shoulder, hard.

"We can go. Thank you for taking care of her."

Loyma smiled. "You are more than welcome. But tell Cora she owes me a rematch."

Mar looked up, mildly confused, while Tai and Della grimaced behind him. There were still furious purple scars wrapped around both her right arms.

"Okay?"

Cora stood in front of the locked door, arms crossed, weighing her options. She'd always thought the Foshar were big, scary, and generally unflappable. Clearly, that wasn't the case.

"Look, our weapons don't work against Noxis. It's like the beams just pass through!"

This caught her attention.

"They do?" Turning, Cora approached the huddled group.

Tanaro glared at her. "This doesn't concern you."

Defiantly, she raised her chin. "Oh? And how many Noxis have you killed?"

"That's..."

"We shouldn't have to! This was a peaceful mission!" Szaal interrupted. He tapped his palm against the table for emphasis. "They shouldn't be here! Why are they here?"

They started bickering again, forgetting Cora's question completely. Man, these guys are useless.

She returned to the door, studying the lock icon at the keypad. I'm almost positive it's a one-way lock. I could go through, but I couldn't come back in. Looking over her shoulder, she noted the display Szaal had pulled up, a small red symbol on a zoomed-in portion of the map.

They use Roshak script, too. That was where Mital was, or at least his monitor.

This ship was strongly reminiscent of the bounty hunters' ship. The colors were different, but the overall layout seemed similar. Knives in the kitchen, should be tools in the engine bay storage room, maybe tool rooms. Wonder if I'd have any luck with a hammer. She cast another glance back at the others. Kevin was facedown on the couch, and the others were sitting in a circle, whispering tensely while eyeing the panicking crew.

She pushed the door open, stepping through and closing it behind her. The latch clicked distinctively. Oh, yep. I'm out here for good.

She headed to the kitchen first.

It took a bit of snooping, but she managed to get her hands on a hooked, serrated knife. "This is neat," she whispered, holding it up. It had some weight to it. The fuck would they even use this for? A memory of Tor's mother came to mind. Oh, those crabby things. It would do just fine against exoskeleton.

Tucking the handle into her belt, Cora strode down the hallway. The smell was stronger here, a strange ammonia scent.

She kept moving. The engine bay would be closer to the rear of the ship, centered between two smaller halls.

There was a clatter above her.

"Sure," she laughed, not stopping. It was welcome to try.

It was at this point that Cora realized her mistake. She'd only ever fought the smaller, male Noxis.

"Too confident, little thing."

A Noxis female, slightly smaller than Amola, stood behind her. There were definitely more in the superspace, but they hung back. Oh, that's right, they like hunting alone.

"It's a bad habit of mine. Hey, want to race?"

Before waiting for her answer, Cora lunged down the hallway. This is gonna suck if I'm wrong. She caught the edge of a doorway, spinning herself into a storage room.

"Oh, thank God." She'd found the tool room. Before her, leaned against a shelf, was a sledgehammer almost her height.

She hefted it aloft, about to give it a test swing when there was a whisper behind her. Not thinking, Cora sank her weight down into her legs, using every fiber of muscle to sling the hammer around.

The hammer hit the wall with a disgusting squashing noise. Cora wiped at her eyes. "Oh, ew."

She'd hit the Noxis square, shattering her chest carapace against the metal. She'd also been splashed.

"Yuck." Dropping the hammer, she turned back to the shelves. There had to be something smaller.

I want something smashy that won't be so hard to use. There were several hammers hanging up, of various lengths and shapes, but complex brackets held them in place.

Cora climbed onto the nearest shelf to get a closer look. It took her longer than she liked, her attention divided between the doorway and the hammer of her choice.

Finally unhooking it from the wall, Cora inspected her prize. It was a typical sledgehammer, the handle as long as her forearm. The head was shaped oddly, but as Cora gave it a test swing, she realized that the shape gave it perfect balance. Fuck them, I'm keeping this.

She poked her head out into the hall. Silence.

Guess I should go try to find... what was his name? Mitad?

Cora walked at an easy pace, trying to keep her footfalls and movement casual. Fear seemed to attract Noxis more than anything else. The missing engineer's monitor was... right at Cora's feet. Foshar crew monitors were closer to necklaces, thick cord and a pendant interwoven with thin coppery wire. Kneeling, she picked it up. Uh oh. There were noises coming from the engine bay.

Ensuring she wouldn't be snuck up on, Cora cast her senses around before approaching the doorway. I need a better vantage point. Whatever was happening, it was on the other side of the engine tower. She tiptoed up to it and began to climb.

At the top, where the insulated exhaust vents branched out, Cora finally caught sight of them.

Aw, I hope they're not all ladies. This could get ugly. The Alien franchise came to mind.

Oh, Sigourney Weaver. She would help me get back.

The engineer had been captured, wrapped firmly in the grip of a massive female Noxis. And she was doing to him what a female Noxis did best.

Cora wasn't sure if interrupting would do any good. He'd gone limp, eyes staring blankly ahead.

She shifted her weight, imagining how the hammer would best convey her momentum. Then, she jumped.

Cora's math was a bit off. She managed to crush the Noxis' head, but the brain contained in the torso remained untouched. She swung the hammer with one hand, slamming her body into the central column. The Noxis twitched hard, going limp.

I... I don't trust that. "Ugh." Raising the hammer to the side, Cora clamped her eyes shut as she swung again. It hit its mark. "Fuck, that's so nasty." For a moment, she felt guilty. They weren't all mindless killing machines, they just... acted like it. "Why are you guys even here?" She grumbled, wiping the hammer off with a shred of uniform. The Foshar was laying perfectly still, eyes wide.

Inching up to his side, Cora knelt next to him. There was no visible sign of life, no breath, no pulse. Just the slightly nauseating bulge of eggs. I gotta get rid of the body. No way I'm taking the eggs out myself.

Gently, she ran a hand over his eyes, closing them.

He immediately opened them again, coughing.

Much to her embarrassment, Cora shuffled backwards, making a faint sound of disgust. "Ah, sorry. I didn't think you were still alive."

He didn't respond, rolling onto his hands and knees before retching violently.

Nope, nope, nope. Cora ducked out of the engine bay. "I'll, uh, let you finish."

She couldn't risk plugging her ears, but it was hard to focus on listening for more attackers when everything was drowned out by the coughing and heaving.

For a brief moment, she considered leaving him to it. Cora, no. You can't abandon someone just because they're gross. It's not even his fault.

He appeared at the doorway, bleary and visibly disgusted. "You're still here."

Cora swallowed the unpleasant feeling in her throat and nodded. "Yeah. I thought it would suck if you survived that just to get attacked by another one somewhere else. Do you, um, want to grab another uniform?"

The engineer looked down at himself. "... Yes."

She let him lead the way, tucking the hammer in her belt and pulling out the knife. The hammer was heavy, but she sported a wide, thick fabric belt that fit snugly just below her waist. It had been a gift from Tor.

Cora made a mental note to thank him again.

"Were they all recalled?"

"Yep. They think you're dead, though. I grabbed your monitor, but I don't think that you want them knowing you're alive until you've got more clothes on."

He grunted.

"Hey, uh, Mitad, are you sure they're all out, the eggs, I mean?"

He turned slowly, giving her a weak glare. "My name is Mital. And no. I need to stop by medical and get a dose of antiparasitic."

Cora hadn't heard one of those words before. But the engineer didn't seem to be in a teaching mood. Maybe later.

Mital went into his room, leaving Cora in the hall.

And here comes another one. She readied her knife, imagining the position it would be landing in by the noises its feet made.

As Mital exited his room wearing a fresh uniform, Cora knelt on top of the Noxis, slamming the head of her hammer repeatedly into its torso. "Let me go, dipshit!" The tentacles had wrapped firmly around her left arm, turning her hand an ugly, dark purple. It still wasn't letting go. "God damn it!"

"It's not going to let go once you've killed it." Mital said, as if this was common knowledge.

"Thanks, that's super helpful! Mind passing me the fucking knife?" Cora snarled, her arm bones threatening to splinter. The kitchen knife had been knocked from her grasp, the smooth handle useless once covered in blood and guts.

He picked it up by the blade, handing it to her.

She hooked the appendage, angrily tearing through it. The Noxis underneath her stayed limp. Trying not to make any more noise, Cora worked at prying the tentacle from her arm. It was beginning to loosen, but this wasn't enough to relieve the intense pain. There would be a bruise. A nasty one.

She stood with a huff, giving the corpse beneath her a good kick. "Jackass."

A thanks would be nice. Shaking her head, Cora banished the thought. It was pointless. She'd probably be making more trouble for them than the Noxis ever had here shortly.

"Medical, then the common area?"

Mital nodded. He led the way again, his gait slowly relaxing. Poor thing.

Cora approached the locked door to the common area.

"I'll get it." Mital stepped up to the keypad, hitting it squarely with his palm.

The door slid open, the sound of panicked whispers and shuffling seeping into the hallway. "It's just us," he stepped in, hands up. "Cora killed them all."

He'd called her Cora. Not the human, not that. Cora tried not to let it go to her head. She'd never had a Foshar refer to her by name before.

The crew regarded her with varying levels of contempt. At this point, she was covered in several greenish-purple fluids, her hands stained up to her elbows. The contempt was fading, slowly being replaced with disbelief. Then came what was obviously relief. "All of them?"

The humans were still backed nervously against the far wall. They'd probably moved when the door opened.

Cora ignored them, sitting quietly as the crew gathered at one of the desks.

"So, our only loss is one of the humans?" This was Sana speaking, judging by her nametag. Is that her name, or her rank? Cora leaned forward, peering at Tanaro's nametag. Name.

"Only loss? We're diced if central command finds out we let our ship get infested."

"Szaal is right. We can't turn around now, either." Tanaro sank against the table, groaning. "We need to clean and do a sweep for eggs. And when we get to Earth, we need to keep ground contact under fifty marks."

"Can't we just decon the descent ship?"

Tanaro raised his head just enough to glare at Mital. "We're doing that anyway. Noxis young are small. There's too great a chance that there's already some on the ship. Minimum crew to ground, circular patrol around the ship. I'm sure the humans will want to socialize, but... No. We're not doing that." He covered his head with his arms. "Can you envision it- being the crew that brought the Noxis to Earth? We'd be put to trial for causing an extinction. Humans wouldn't stand a chance."

Cora chewed at her lip. Y'all can barely handle them yourselves.

"Why don't we just focus on what we can do right now? Let's get the ship cleaned up. Earth is still, how long do we have?"

"Two or so rotations until we reach orbit." Tanaro sat up, shifting in his seat to lean back. "Nobody goes anywhere alone until we can get a proper decon at a spaceport."

Cora followed Sana down the main hall. "Where did you say it was?"

"Just outside the kitchen." As her and Mital were returning, there'd been one waiting. "There," she said as they rounded the corner.

It hadn't been a fight, really.

"Did you have to dent the floor?" Sana knelt, lifting the damaged panel with a finger.

"Sorry. He jumped out at us and scared me. I just swung until he stopped moving."

Sana made a faint noise of disgust. "I can tell."

Cora noted the way Sana was standing. She's hoping I'll get it, so she doesn't have to. "I'll get it. I'm already... gonna need to bathe."

"Yeah," Sana said, like she was about to gag.

Prodding at the corpse with the handle of her borrowed hammer, Cora managed to dislodge it from the crater in the floor. If this thing moves, I'm gonna lose my shit.

It didn't. As she dragged it along by its legs, Sana led the way.

"Are we not tossing them out the airlock?"

"Do you think that's a good idea? We're in your home system now."

Cora thought about it. "They can survive freezing?"

Sana nodded.

"Can I ask where we're taking them?"

"Garbage disposal."

Cora thought about the dinner-plate-sized hole. "O-kay."

There were already crew members standing around the disposal area. The entire cover was propped open, heat emanating from the opening.

"Hurry, the engines are about to cycle on," Mital snapped at her.

"On it, sorry." Cora ignored the rising nausea as she picked up a large, oozing spider corpse with her bare hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She swung it overhead, trying to avoid the searing-hot metal.

Mital knocked the support loose just as she pulled her hands back. The cover clattered shut. "That's one."

Light bloomed from within, followed by a wave of heat.

As she followed the others to the engine bay, Cora wondered if she'd misunderstood the Foshar. Were they aloof and contemptuous towards her, or was that just how they were? They're not human. Why would they act like it?

Cora spent the rest of the cleanup carefully watching their expressions. The Foshar didn't smile, at least not with their mouths. In fact, their faces stayed blank, their voices mostly flat. They still hit the notes necessary for conveying meaning in Roshak, but with none of the accents to signal emotion. It took a while for her to notice the gestures.

Disgust was easy. Narrowed eyes, stiff posture. They all looked like this as she pried carapace from the central tower.

After the sixth time that someone held their arms out in a conversation, Cora had an epiphany. Is that a smile? Mital had done it earlier when he'd thanked her.

Cora relaxed. It was like learning another language.

Though their tones often sounded like they were snapping at her, Cora watched for the gesture. To her surprise, they were often smiling, or making a gesture close to a smile that indicated a friendly tone. To her embarassment, she realized that clasping her hands behind her back was considered rude.

After several days, she tried smiling in a conversation with Sana. Sana's hands paused in midair. "Oh," she paused, then continued talking as if nothing had happened.

When it finally loomed into view, Earth wasn't as vibrant as Cora expected. From the window, it was almost gray. I don't really care. I don't want to see it at all. She huffed, crossing her arms. "Is there really no way I can convince any of you to let me stay up here?"

Tanaro clasped his hands together at chest height. That's new. "No. When we leave here, this ship is going to be inspected at the next port. We're already in a lot of trouble."

Cora tried not to be frustrated at them. The next few weeks, months, years, whatever; they were going to suck. She could already tell.

"We're entering orbit now. You should get your belongings together and join the others."

The descent ship was smaller, a single round interior with several seats and windows all around.

"This the part where we burn up in re-entry."

"Kevin!" Someone fussed, smacking him on the arm.

Cora sat in a chair, trying not to sulk. She was failing. "They've got force inverters. The more the pull of gravity, the slower we go." They were a favorite of Tor's. She smiled weakly, remembering how excited he was to explain how they worked. His words had gone in one ear and out the other, but his expressions were burned into her memory.

Three other Foshar crew were on the ship, unarmed except for elegant spears. Their purpose was obvious.

Cora fidgeted, taking stock of her situation. This is gonna suck. She had a heavy duffel bag now, a gift from Sana who'd regarded her crate of possessions with pure confusion. "You don't have enough hands for that."

Cora hadn't argued. It was true.

And her stolen hammer fit perfectly inside.

Once on the ground, she'd have two choices. Cora crossed her arms again, brow furrowing. It won't be that simple. No matter what, I have to get to Argentina. I'll have to fight, sneak out, or convince them to let me go.

Unfortunately, Cora had forgotten something important. They knew she was coming.

"Ms. Ramirez! Your mother is waiting for you."

Cora froze. "Who?"

The biohazard suit-clad woman mashed a button on her chest.

"YOUR MOTHER IS WAITING FOR YOU," came her voice again, this time much louder.

"Fuck. Ah. Ok. Uh." She floundered. "No. No, that's ok, she's- Now why the hell did you have to go and call her?"

The woman took a step back, her visor fogged up but her confused expression still visible.

"No, no, it's fine, I'm sorry. I know you're just doing your job! Shit!" Cora ran her fingers over her hair. This was definitely a worst-case scenario.

Someone poked their head into the tent. "Tomlinson. We've got... a problem."

As she rustled out, Cora peered after her. The humans had been ushered into a large white tent, set up on an airstrip. The descent ship was gone.

But Mital was still standing there, as bewildered as a Foshar could look.

He can't speak English. Crap. Cora jogged out, holding her hands in the air. «Mital! Why are you still here? »

«They fucking left me! I was behind the ship, and they just took off! »

There were figures in heavier hazard suits standing to the side, armed. This could get bad.

"Don't- Nobody panic." «Quit panicking. » She held her hands up. «I'll talk to them. »

«I don't want to be on this planet! I'm supposed to be going home in less than a rotation! I know what their kind do when this happens. I've seen the films! » His voice had gone thin, his posture painfully stiff.

Cora ignored him, turning to the pair of nervous humans. "Can we get the guys with the guns to chill? They're freaking him out."

"Why is he here? Did they mean to leave him?" Tomlinson waved at the armed men, shooing them with her hands. They didn't move.

She wasn't sure if she should tell them about the Noxis. "They didn't mean to leave him, no, they just had a deadline. I think."

"They're not answering their radios," said the man with a hint of irritation.

«Mital, he says they're not answering the radios. »

Mital closed his eyes. «Why would they? They should hope they don't need anyone in engineering, since Tanaro doesn't know a wrench from his own-»

To Mital's credit, he wasn't doing any of the violent gesturing that would make the humans nervous.

Cora turned back around. "He's worried that y'all are gonna, you know, do stuff to him. Says he's seen it in the movies. He was supposed to be going home once they finished this mission."

"Would they come back for him?"

I don't like the way she asked that. His light gray scalp was beginning to take on a brownish hue. "There would likely be... a retrieval mission happening in the next few months. It wouldn't be for him specifically, but she'd probably pick him up as well. Can we get out of the sun? I think he's burning."

As they re-entered the tent, Cora saw more people struggling into hazmat suits through a plastic window.

«What's happening? »

«I'm trying to convince them that it's dangerous to keep us here. Doing uh, tactical lying, as Mar would call it. »

«Don't let them cut me open. »

Cora was about to laugh, but more people were entering now, carrying equipment. Laughing suddenly seemed in very poor taste. «I won't. »

"What did you mean earlier, what you said about a 'retrieval mission'? And who was the 'she' you mentioned?"

One of the men settled into a folding chair, his plastic suit rustling as he crossed his arms.

"Well, I know I was expected to stay here, but I was more so... How do you put it?" Cora racked her brain for official-sounding words. "Forcibly deported. There's a hierarchy out there, and the lady at the top of it- well, she's actually a giant spider, but still a lady, anyway, she told the Sheevae queen that all humans had to be returned to Earth. And if you argue with the Grand Mother, you risk getting cut off from all the good Noxis stuff, like the ship parts they manufacture, and all their exports." Cora took a breath. They were all sitting attentive, seemingly unbothered by her rambling.

"Anyway, the Grand Mother is about to get in trouble because some of her kind did something pretty bad- Actually, you all should probably know this. A bunch of Noxis, that's what they're called, got onto our ship and killed one of the humans coming back. Sadie? Stacy? I can't remember, but she's gonna be in trouble."

"And why's that?"

I gotta phrase this right, I only get one chance.

"Because I've been in space for a good while. I hit it off pretty well with the former Sheevae princess, who's now the queen since her mom passed. Marriage isn't really a concept they have, but I'm something like her wife now. She didn't argue with the Grand Mother at the time, but when she finds out that a human died because of her decree, and I doubt the Foshar will specify which human died, she's going to be furious. I told them I'd do my best to be back in a few ro- months, maybe? They're close to months. But unless I manage to get to where I need to get to and let her know I'm okay, she's going to come looking for me. And Tarina is not nearly as nice or patient as the Foshar are."

"You getting this?" One of them spoke to a human typing furiously on what looked like a tablet with a keyboard.

"Trying. Gonna need some clarification."

Cora pulled out a folding chair, sitting in it. Her knees were threatening to shake.

"What can I clarify?"

They went back and forth for several minutes, defining names and species and their respective leaders.

"Now, Cora, we don't have the capability to reach anyone that's not within our solar system. You know that, right?"

She nodded. "Right! But they do down in Argentina. Their emperor lived down there for a while, so they have a presence."

"We- I think- We knew about that."

The man with crossed arms nodded. "I expect you'll want to go there?"

Cora nodded again, this time carefully. "I know we can't just walk out in broad daylight like this. But the Foshar leader, I forget his title, he doesn't like his kind going missing, and I can't just leave Mital here. He's got- Hold on." «Do you have a family? »

Mital was perched uncomfortably on one of the folding chairs. «I have six children. Why do you think I took this job? » He made a gesture, like patting the air. «Don't misunderstand. I want to see my kids again, and my wife. »

"Holy shit. He's got six kids- pardon my language, sir. He's got six kids."

«Why the fuck are they asking if I have a family? »

Cora frowned at him. «I asked because I'm trying to get them to let us go to Argentina. The Yarlott have a post there and we might be able to get back that way. They might be more cooperative if they can relate to you. »

«Oh. »

"He's really nervous, sorry."

"I have a question." The man leaned forward, finally uncrossing his arms. "You were abducted and experimented on. You want to stay like that?"

This seemed like a terrible time to rail against the economic situation in the United States.

"Uh. Mmm, yeah? I mean, it's not a huge deal to me anymore. It's been years. I've got better things to worry about."

He took a deep breath, his expression unchanging. "We have concerns regarding your mental stability after what you've experienced."

She leaned forward, aiming for apprehension over intimidation. "My mental stability is the absolute least of your worries right now. If Tarina has to retrieve me herself, she's sending warships."

He wasn't biting. "We've communicated extensively with the Foshar. Anyone attacking our planet would risk all-out war. On a scale neither you nor I can comprehend."

I can comprehend it very well, thank you. Cora hated being talked down to. The words began to tumble out of her mouth before she could catch them. "For her nation's heir, she would. This isn't about comprehending anything, sir. The Foshar have nothing on the Sheevae. This is about letting me get out of here, taking Mital with me, and preventing her expending the resources to save her child. Honestly, I don't understand why we're going back and forth like this. Except that maybe it's you that doesn't comprehend. I'm not trying to be rude. I've seen what Tarina can do. Earth is still my home planet, and I don't want to see it on the receiving end of her wrath."

"Heir?" repeated several of them. The atmosphere changed.

Mital's leaned forward, catching her eye with a glare. «What did you tell them? »

«About Tarina's child. »

He looked at her, unblinking, for several seconds. «As a threat? »

She nodded.

«Did it work? »

She gave him a sour look. «You're here, too. You tell me. »

The humans were leaned towards each other, whispering furiously.

Within an hour, a box truck was parked outside the tent.

She made eye contact with Tomlinson. Fuck. I still have to do that.

«Mital, could you wait here? I have to go see my mother. »

He opened his mouth to argue.

«I promise they won't probe you. »

Mital jumped, nearly falling out of his too-small chair. «Who said anything about probing? »

"Ma'am, if you go over that line, we'll have to quarantine you- Hey!"

Before Cora could comprehend what was happening, her mother had her wrapped in a hug. Then, she stepped back, gripping Cora by her arms and looking her over. She looked exactly as she had the last time they'd met, maybe with a few more gray hairs. Her heart rose, then sank. It was coming.

"My God. What did they do to you? You barely look like yourself."

Of course. Can't just hug me. "They did a lot. I'm okay."

Her mom didn't believe her, especially not when the tears started.

"You- Can't you fix her?" She gestured to the helpless hazmat-suited guard. He shrugged.

"Mama, I don't need fixed," Cora was getting irritated. The shuddering sobs were not helping. "I'm fine."

"Like hell you are. Look at you! Look me in my eyes and tell me you're fine. Oh, what happened to your beautiful hair?"

Cora was starting to remember why she'd moved several hundred miles away from home. Why she'd accepted open space so readily. The flow of tears came to a halt.

"We all thought you were dead," she continued, forgetting her previous sentence. "They can't see you like this, though. Some... creature. I'll make sure they clean you up and- A tail?" She spun Cora around, making a noise of disgust.

"I've been gone for two years and you're worried about how I look? Seriously?"

"Yes, Cora! How will you live like this? Who will love you like this?"

"What?"

"You heard me! They told me you want to leave again. You want to go back! I won't let my daughter destroy herself!"

Who will love me like this? Cora bit her tongue, choking on an uncomfortable snarl-sob combo. Who will love me like this?

She drew herself up to her full height. She was barely an inch taller than her mother, but it was enough. "Tell them all I'm dead. And let me stay that way!"

Wrenching herself from her mother's grasp, Cora stormed back to the quarantine tent. "See," she hissed. "I was right."

"She's still out there screaming."

Cora frowned at Tomlinson as she returned. She'd cleaned inside her visor, but the fog was quickly returning.

"I'm sure she is. You'll need to get a- get a pressure washer and fill it with holy water."

Mital was watching them. «What happened? »

«My mom saw the way I look now and started panicking. Said a bunch of awful stuff to me. Typical for her. »

He stared at the ground. «I think if one of my children came home looking like a human, I might react that way, too. » Pressing his hands together, he looked up at her.

Groaning, Cora rubbed at her eyes. «She thought I was dead for two years, and one of the first things she says to me is suggesting that I'm unloveable now. »

Mital blinked slowly. «I... retract my previous statement. That's a disgusting thing to say to the child you were just mourning. »

"Can I interrupt?" Tomlinson was still standing behind her.

"Ah, sorry." Cora turned her chair slightly to the side. "Sure."

"They're getting transportation set up now, but once you're across the border, we can't guarantee your safety."

For some reason, this irritated Cora just as much as her mother had. "Why's that?"

"Well, you know how things are-"

Cora crossed her legs, leaning forward. "Look me in my eyes and try to tell me about the dangerous Mexicans. Please."

Tomlinson cringed. "Agh, I'm sorry. It's just- the cartels have been more active, and aggressive, too. You know..."

"I do." She leaned back, studying the tent ceiling. The plastic sheeting pillowed between metal frame, rustling faintly. "I also don't give a shit."

Cora watched as her foggy expression went from vaguely offended to excessively understanding. "Ohhhh!"

"What?"

"Earlier, you said something about the, uh, the queen's kid?"

"Yeah?"

She nodded wisely. "You're pregnant."

Cora wasn't sure what she was getting at. She wasn't even sure if she was, or not. It hadn't been long enough, as far as she knew. "... Yeah?"

"That explains a lot."

It was at this point that Cora realized she'd been a huge bitch. Hell.

"I'm sorry," she groaned. "It's been a long... year? Shit."

Tomlinson laughed, shaking her head. "My husband would tell you, I was way worse. I only ever craved lobster and the fancy soft cheeses you could get at Whole Foods." Her visor had completely fogged up again. "Ooh, and white wine. I don't know if you're aware, but that's all stuff you can't have when you're pregnant. Oh, except for lobster. That was just expensive."

Cora shifted in her chair. Mital had slouched forward, closing his eyes. "I know a little bit, but I don't know anything about Sheevae babies. That's another reason I need to get back to Tarina."

Cora sighed dramatically when the doors shut behind them.

"What?"

"I thought that wouldn't work. But," she paused, inspecting the interior, "It looks like they do this often. These don't normally have..." Cora trailed off. She hadn't learned the word for air conditioning. "Cold air." There were metal benches riveted to the truck's walls. She tossed her bag down, picking a spot on the floor.

The engine sputtered to life.

"How do you know they're taking us to Argentina?"

She leaned back against her bag, her hammer pressing into her ribs. "Because I'll kill them if they don't."

It was easy enough to say. She rolled over, eyes now fully adjusted to their temporary prison.

Someone had left a phone charger plugged into a socket at the front. They use these for transporting people a lot. Cora decided to consider the implications of this after she'd plugged her phone in.

The screen lit up, an eye-searing white. She set it down, feeling the urge to step back as it booted up, as the password box appeared. It's still got signal?

Years in space, kicking around in the bottom of a crate, started up like it was bought yesterday. Cora panicked for a moment, realizing she couldn't remember her code.

She picked the phone up again, muscle memory taking over. She didn't remember the code, but her fingers did. Simple, four digits.

Her phone froze as it unlocked.

Here it comes.

Cora mashed the volume button down, quickly silencing it as the first text rolled in.

Most of them were spam. She waited for the deluge to end, the screen frozen mid-scroll.

It took almost ten minutes for the notifications to stop. The notification LED, overwhelmed to a solid green, finally came to rest at an easy blink. There was probably no point in checking her email. Bank account?

She typed in the code, immediately greeted with an error message. Oh, four years of app updates. She found herself procrastinating. The Messages icon made her stomach turn. Methodically, she updated her bank app, then two out of six of her social media apps.

As the email icon came to rest at a grand total of twenty-four-thousand notifications, she tapped on it. I wonder if they fired me. Did I get an email about it?

After several minutes of scrolling, Cora had made only one concerning, non-work-related discovery.

Someone had been doing her taxes for the last four years.

Actually, I think I'll go check my texts.

Her finger hovered over the icon, now showing a yellow 478 at its top right corner. Oh, my bank app's done updating. Sighing, she swiped over and logged in.

Mital jumped as she made a confused squawk. "What was that noise?"

Cora shook her head. "I, uh, don't know." The balance had far too many digits. Not in the negative, either. Identity theft? It usually didn't work like this. They at least would have changed the password. There was a regular deposit, like a paycheck, and a direct deposit from the IRS. Her bills were all paid on time.

This had Ray written all over it.

Shaking her head, she set her phone down. That was enough for today.

Cora wasn't sure how long she expected the trip to take. She didn't, however, expect the truck to roll to a stop after only a few hours, the engine cutting off completely. She stood, stretching. They better not make me keep my promise.

The door opened, revealing the well-lit tarmac of an airport at dawn.

"Transfer time."

"Transfer?" Cora picked up her bag, unplugging the charger from the wall and tossing it in with her phone.

"Yeah," the driver yawned. "You know, I looked, the drive would have taken like three weeks. They're putting y'all on a plane."

"That's nice of them." Cora turned to a bleary Mital. "They're flying us there. It'll be faster."

He grumbled.

They approached a plane, Cora catching him by an elbow as he swayed.

She nodded to the driver as they boarded, whispering a thank you. On board, there were two armed guards sitting in the first row of seats. They wore a differently patterned uniform.

Just as Cora opened her mouth to greet them, they stiffened, rising to their feet. One of them hit his head on the low ceiling.

Through the open door, sharp, hurried footsteps echoed in.

Cora took a calming breath, ushering the half-conscious Mital to the back row of seats. This was a smaller plane, the seats spaced further apart and made of nicer materials than a typical commercial flight.

There were boots coming up the metal stairs.

Cora approached the front of the plane, noting that the guards paid her no attention.

A woman boarded first, wearing the same uniform as the group that received them. Two more unarmed individuals entered after her, loaded down with suitcases and large green duffel bags.

"At ease. We'll be coming along, Cora. I hope you don't mind."

She spoke with a certain authority, the kind that said I already know you don't mind. Her voice was smooth with a familiar accent. Cora shook her head, her cheeks inexplicably heating up. "Not at all."

She was gorgeous. Cora wasn't sure if she wanted to be her, or- well, something else. She was definitely old enough to be Cora's mother, fine lines adorning her face.

She introduced herself as Isaura, but her uniform said Ortiz. She patted a seat for Cora.

"I'll be right back. Is your friend settled in?"

She craned her neck to look back at Mital. He'd somehow managed a position that left only his knees visible above the seats. "Uh... I suppose, yeah."

Isaura returned after a few minutes, closing the door before doing the final checks that a flight attendant would do.

Cora frowned, turning around in her seat again. "Hey, Mital?"

"Mm."

"Do you think you could buckle yourself in?"

His hand flew above the seat for a split second, motioning a sharp, sarcastic laugh.

Groaning quietly, Cora slid out of her seat and walked back to him.

Mital had scrunched himself down into the seat, his shins pressing into the seat in front of him.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stuck."

"That is possible."

Isaura was still up front, checking the door again and chatting with the others.

This would be tricky. Mital was about as lanky as a Foshar could get. "Hm." Cora pushed the aisle-side seat's armrest up before grabbing Mital under his arms, pulling decisively upwards and dislodging him.

"What- ough-"

Cora stifled a laugh as she turned him around to face the aisle. "These definitely weren't made for someone as tall as you."

He rubbed at his upper arm. "No, I don't think so. What kind of ship is this?"

"It's a 'plane'." At his motionless response, Cora continued. "Sorry. Airplane. Going to Argentina in the truck we were in, that would have taken a... quarter of a year. These are for traveling long distances across the planet, much faster."

He made a face.

"What?"

"We don't do that."

"Giant flying creatures?"

"No, that's on Noxis. And Takka. We have these storms on Milarish. They make you sick if you get caught in them."

It was Cora's turn to make a face. "How do they do that?"

He shrugged. "They're made of tiny creatures that get inside you and colonize your organs."

Isaura was coming down the aisle. "All good?"

"Remind me never to go to their planet. It's got germ weather."

"Germ weather," she repeated slowly.

"Sorry, nothing. We're ready if you... all are."

Cora had forgotten how much she loved planes. The engines on orbit-escaping ships took a while to warm up, the sensation of ascent almost imperceptible over the numbing, deafening drone of gravity inverters. In comparison, the plane's engines sang as it picked up speed.

Mital was silent behind her. I hope he's alright. She wasn't sure if Foshar could get airsick.

There was a quiet noise, like a whisper. Cora tilted her head, peeking between the gap between her seat and the window. He was staring out the window, entranced.

The clouds were beautiful today.

She leaned against the window, watching the wings carve through the air.

"Did you miss it?"

Cora jumped. At some point, Isaura had settled into the seat next to her. She'd taken her uniform jacket off, now just sporting a fitted t-shirt, tucked into her camouflage uniform pants.

It was by no means a revealing outfit, but Cora's mouth still went dry. What am I, a dog?

"I, uh, yeah. I do. Did. I didn't want to come back, but maybe... Maybe to visit isn't so bad."

Her lips moved in a mesmerizing way. Cora envisioned beating herself over the head with a rolled-up newspaper. Stop it. Bad dog. Bad!

Isaura took one of her hands, inspecting Cora's skin closely. "Wow," she whispered. Cora fought back a shiver as her breath grazed over her hand. Maybe I'm just attention-starved. Maybe that's why I'm being so weird.

"I shouldn't tell you this, but there was a debate about letting you leave. They wanted to study you."

Cora shifted in her seat, uneasy. "If they were gonna let you do it, then maybe I'd like it."

"Mm-hm?" Isaura smiled, her lips a perfect bow. She didn't look up, tracing the silhouettes of the irregular tendons crisscrossing Cora's wrists. "That's why I'm here."

"To study me before I go?" This didn't feel like being studied. This felt like being doted on.

"Without making your wife mad."

Cora laughed. "Oh, it's not like that, I don't think. As long as I'm not, like, being diced up in some lab, she'll be fine."

"Mm." For a moment, she seemed sad.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She pursed her lips. "Ah, my wife left me just recently."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Wife? Cora was envisioning the rolled-up newspaper again. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Mm. Not really." She held Cora's hand, running her free hand down to her elbow, then up the inside of her arm. Her fingers pressed in, gently. "Hm." She tried a few other spots on Cora's arm.

Her warm fingers pressed into Cora's throat.

"Ah-" Cora was suddenly putty in her hands.

"Sorry, you lost all your other easily accessible pulse points. Your circulatory system changed... shape."

"That's ok, check all the ones you need, I guess." Please, God, keep touching me. Cora wasn't even sure that she was horny.

"I am curious."

"Mm?"

She looked around, pausing to take notes on her tablet. "Do you mind if I check some of your less accessible pulse points?"

"Sure? I mean, no, go ahead." Cora didn't know what less accessible meant.

It meant slipping a hand into her pants, apparently. She stiffened in her seat, trying to give Isaura the benefit of the doubt. It was a good thing that she did. Her hand slid to the left, fingers pressing into her groin. Am I making a normal face right now? Cora tried to straighten her expression. Her ears were hot.

Isaura felt for the other side, humming. "Those are even stronger. Weird." She tapped several lines of notes into an app. "I was told you were genetically altered for breeding purposes. How was that?"

She's definitely a doctor. Shit. "What a way to ask that. It was... Weird? Uncomfortable? I thought I was gonna die. They kept making me drink this stuff and I felt like I was getting sick all the time. My joints hurt and I was really cold." Cora didn't want to go into the whole 'getting fucked like an animal in a giant air vent' thing, as fun as it was in the moment.

"Were they successful?"

"Uhh... Yes."

"Hm." Isaura had pulled out a stethoscope but was clearly having a hard time with it. "Breathe in?"

Cora took a deep breath.

"All the way."

"This is all the way," she wheezed. "I got no more room."

"Really. Huh." She tucked a hand behind Cora, pushing her forward to slide a hand under her shirt. The cool metal of the stethoscope pressed into her back. "Again."

Cora shivered, hoping her heart wasn't beating too loud. She lowered the stethoscope, trying it again in several locations.

"If I didn't know any better," she said as she lifted Cora's shirt. Her hands ran up to the base of her ribs, pressing in. "I'd say your ribcage and lungs are an entirely different shape. Hold on."

"Holding!" Cora resisted the urge to kick her feet. She hadn't had a physical since elementary school. The attention was nice but gave her a funny feeling in her throat. She'd missed it.

Isaura dug through her bag, muttering under her breath. "I can't do shit here. I don't have my- Ugh." She set her bag back on the floor and sighed. "When we get to Mendoza, we'll be quarantining for a while. I can do a full exam there. They're just bugging me about 'preliminary' info."

Her phone had been buzzing insistently for a while.

Cora pulled her shirt back down, thinking. "I could list off some of the things that are different now?" She paused again. Crap. What if I give too much information and they try to keep me here? She envisioned a Wolverine-esque situation. Or maybe Captain America. Wow. I forgot about those guys. Cora had gotten distracted again. Isaura had been speaking the entire time. Shit.

She tuned in, pretending she'd been listening the whole time.

"... reproductive changes."

She'd tuned in too late.

"Uh, well, the biggest change in general that I can think of is that I don't need air like I used to. Or, at least, oxygen. A lot of my teeth fell out and grew back different. Oh! My bones grow back. I think."

"So, you're essentially one of them, now?"

Cora pulled her knees to her chest. "I don't think so. They used stuff from a couple different sources. I'm like... some kind of wacky hybrid."

"Mmm. Can I see your teeth?"

"Sur- Actually, not yet." Cora knew for a fact that she smelled bad enough without opening her mouth. She'd managed to lose her toothbrush halfway through the trip to Earth and had been making do with floss borrowed from one of the other humans. "I got to brush my teeth first."

"Do they not have toothbrushes out there?"

Cora would have laughed, but now she was even more self-conscious about her breath. "They do, they're just different shapes. And... I lost mine on the way here."

"We'll get you one. Speaking of hygiene, do you still have cycles?"

"Cycles?" Cora racked her brain. That was such a familiar word. Not Roshak days, but-

"Periods?"

"Holy shit." She couldn't even remember the last time she had one. "No? Those stopped, like the same day I got my first dose. I think."

"Do you get anything similar?"

Cora wasn't keen on explaining heat to her. "Hm, not really? I just got temperamental every so often."

The questioning continued, Isaura going down a list.

"Do you do this often?"

Isaura gave her a look of pure bewilderment. "No?"

"Oh. Sorry. That was a stupid question." Cora shrank down in her seat.

There was a layover, but Cora slept through it, as well as the next half of their entire flight.

She'd managed to sleep for sixteen hours straight. They were in the air again now, Mital still somewhere behind her. Ignoring her aching back, she peeked over the seat. One of the other passengers was sitting with him.

"They're playing tic-tac-toe," Isaura whispered from the next row of seats.

This created more questions than it answered. She stood carefully, stretching and stepping into the aisle. Her back was especially sore. She stretched, surprised when both her knees popped, loudly. "The fuck?" She muttered to herself, rising up on her toes and peeking over the seats at Mital. He was losing, terribly. She didn't remember being this crackly. Maybe this is why we don't sleep for that long. Cora had gotten used to sleeping in intervals throughout the day. Spoiled, even. I feel like I could sleep more.

She did.

Cora woke up again, this time to a resounding thud. She tried to jump up but was held firmly in place by a seatbelt.

"Good, you're awake. Let me- hold still." Isaura pulled her to stand, brushing at her shirt and running a hand over Cora's face. "Hmm. Stay right there." She came back seconds later with a damp paper towel, rubbing gently at Cora's face, returning again with another paper towel for the spots of general grime on her clothes. "This won't work... Ah! I have an idea."

Cora found herself being wrapped in some kind of sheet, or maybe a thin towel. Isaura fidgeted at it until it covered the worst of Cora's rough state in an intentional way.

She leaned to peer around Isaura, through the plane doorway. "Is there- ooh, shit."

There was a group of uniformed men standing at least fifty feet away, shoulder-to-shoulder, squinting against the sun. Several paces being them, a man was holding up a pair of binoculars.

"Already you're nervous. I won't tell you who that is. Just stay with me."

Mital was already outside, unloading larger suitcases with the others. There was a hazmat-suited figure carrying a radio, who, upon seeing Cora, began to jog over.

"Our esteemed president welcomes you to Argentina!" Cora tried for her Spanish, knocking the dust off her consonants. "Thank you!" Wait, president?

Even before she'd left Earth, Cora's political knowledge extended as far south as... Mexico. That was it.

The royal blue uniforms all bore extensive striping and badging. Those had to be military officials. The distant man in the suit stood alone, a radio in hand. That had to be the president.

He waved.

For some reason, this filled Cora with giddy relief. She waved back.

There was a bus waiting for them. The driver was also in a hazmat suit. Cora sat by Isaura. "Do you think he can see in that?"

Isaura looked up at the driver, grimacing and leaning forward in her seat. "It will be fine."

Mital was already on the bus, turned sideways with a bedsheet over his shoulders.

It was fine. The bus ride was short, streets suspiciously clear along the tree-lined route. After inching the bus under the hotel awning, the driver stood. "We are here." His visor was completely fogged up. Jesus. "Please," he swiped hopelessly at his face. "Put on the clothes. Masks. In the blue bag."

There was a large blue duffel bag in the first seat. "I'll get it." Isaura stood. "For the- for him, too?"

The driver may have made an expression, but none of them could see it. "I, ehm, I hope so."

Mital ended up closely relying on his bedsheet. The hairnet worked, which was perfect, considering he had no hair to begin with. The suit never stood a chance, nor did the gloves. There was a bright yellow military cordon in the distance, but anyone with a good camera would easily get a picture of him.

Dutifully wearing his hairnet and a paper mask tied at the back of his earless head, Mital jogged with them to the employee entrance, narrowly missing clipping his forehead on the doorway.

More people in hazmat suits followed them, using pump sprayers to douse the hallways with something that smelled like boiling vinegar. It seared her nose through the mask. Cora was relieved when the hotel door shut behind her.

Mital sidled up to a bed, poking it. "Why is it shaped liked this?"

"What did he say?" Isaura poked her head out from the adjoining room.

"He wants to know why our beds are rectangles. I've seen a lot of circle beds and hammocks up there, but no beds like ours."

"Circle beds?"

Cora frowned, turning back to Mital. "Do you know why beds are always that shape?" She drew a circle with her fingers.

Mital made a gesture that insinuated that Cora was a dumbass.

"Excuse you! It's a real question."

"Do humans sleep like a," he paused, laying down on the bed and stiffening his arms to his side. "Like they're sick? Do eggs have corners?"

Cora made a face. Both Roshak and Foshar slept tightly curled up. Even on the large, flat beds found on ships, several slept easily in one bed. "I think so. And squares are easier to make here." She turned back to Isaura, who was trying not to laugh. "I think it just makes more sense? They come out of eggs."

"Round is the shape of rest," declared Mital, unprompted.

"I take that back, Isaura. I think it's a spiritual thing."

While Mital was discovering the joy of telenovelas, Cora caught up on more she'd missed. Logging into social media was nauseating. There had been so many changes that she struggled to find a way to disable the big green dot screaming "Cora is alive!". It took long enough that someone messaged her. An old friend from work, one that'd been really good to Cora.

The popup appeared right above where she was about to press, causing her to open the message.

"Fuck," she hissed.

She'd still been sending her posts and funny videos, even though Cora had been gone long enough to be declared missing.

Did your account get hacked?

Cora set her phone down for a second. She couldn't leave her hanging. But she couldn't risk any trouble.

I am SO sorry I disappeared like that. I miiiiight have left to live with family where the debt collectors couldn't find me. I haven't had the money for a phone with internet.

Ari was typing for a while.

Shit I thought u killed yrslf. Or were abducted by aliens lmao

Cora snorted.

Don't tell anyone I'm alive lol I just looked and ofc they're still after me

Texting had become foreign to Cora. Her phone's suggestions were doing heavy lifting.

Her friend responded with a skull emoji. I'm just glad you're ok.

Cora closed the app, putting her phone down.

Cora was relieved to be back on a normal sleep schedule, even if finding a good sleeping position was difficult. Mital's silent complaints had irritated her enough to push the beds together and stack the pillows around him. She'd gotten in the habit of sleeping in some kind of bastardized fetal position, knees tucked under her and forehead pressing into the bed, a holdover from months of sleeping in ships with poorly insulated engine bays. Her arms crossed over her head, her biceps pressing against her ears.

It was an effective way to sleep. So effective, in fact, that she rolled over to find Isaura staring at her, visibly concerned.

"You good?"

Rising to her knees, Cora looked over at Mital. At some point, he'd acquired both room's spare blankets and was now a mountain of pale pink fleece. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Would you be willing to come in here?"

"For what?"

"I need to finish your exam."

Cora stretched, quietly groaning. "Okay." She inched carefully off the bed, following Isaura through the doorway. Isaura motioned to her room's desk chair. "Sit here, please."

"Let me see your arm." She wrapped Cora's arm in a blood pressure cuff, one that had to be pumped by hand. Cora watched, fascinated, as she managed to divine two numbers from the dial.

There was a laptop at the desk. Someone had put stickers on it, then covered them with a red version of the same sticker. Cora squinted. The display had a privacy screen, meaning she'd need to be right in front of it to read it.

"Okay," Isaura muttered, leaning over Cora to read whatever she'd pulled up. "I have your medical history here. It looks like you were diagnosed with asthma in 2007, do you still experience symptoms?"

"Ooh!" Cora rested her chin on her hand, elbow on the desk. "Holy shit. I was. It's been forever since I thought about that. I don't know. The last time it gave me any trouble was- hm. Freshman year of college?"

"And when was that?"

"Pff, I don't know, 2016?" Cora racked her brain. "I've definitely done things since then that would have given me an attack. I guess it's gone? It wasn't that bad. I kept my inhaler in my locker at work." It was probably still there, if they hadn't cut the lock off.

Isaura started typing.

"Okay," she whispered, clicking to look at something else. "Healthy kid aside from the asthma. No cycle for, I'd say, about two years. Were you on any medications before you left? Vitamins, herbal supplements, anything like that?"

Cora chewed at her lip. "I was taking... shoot, what's it called. It's this orange seasoning."

"Turmeric?"

"Yeah!"

"And why were you taking that?"

"My mom said it was good for immune health. I forgot to take it most days. It gave me heartburn."

Isaura made a face. "Mhm. You didn't have any records we could find for about five years before you left. Did you weigh about the same as you do now?"

Cora stretched out her legs, holding out her arms. "Hm. I... Probably weigh more. I feel like I do."

Isaura noted Cora's expression. "How do you feel about that?"

"I hadn't really thought about it until now. My mom always said I needed to lose weight."

She leaned back in her chair. "Then it hasn't been an issue."

Cora pursed her lips. "It helped that there's no mirrors in space. Maybe there are, but I never saw them."

"You haven't seen yourself since you left?"

"It's bad luck," she started, surprising herself. "Wow. Uh, I think it's actually a Foshar or Roshak thing. Every ship I've been on hasn't had a single mirror. Then, when I was living on Roshak, that was what they told me. You live with people who'll fix your hair for you, or tell you if you look bad. Nobody lives alone."

"Do you want to?" Isaura pointed to the wall mirror. It had taken Mital less than a minute to cover theirs with a sheet.

"Not really," Cora said as she stood. "But I probably should. I might be able to tell you more about what's different." Her stomach turned. She'd never felt particularly good about herself, and she'd been so overwhelmed in space that she hadn't stopped to ask herself if she was genuinely attractive to the people that wanted her around, or if it was just the novelty. It had never even crossed her mind. She found herself getting irritated.

As long as I can hold my own up there and help them, it doesn't matter what the fuck I look like.

Oh.

She really did look like any other Roshak. Her hair had gathered nicely into keratinous bundles like the theirs, the ends smooth and rounded. It took a moment for her brain to accept that she was looking at herself.

Isaura stood, gently closing the door. "Would you be comfortable removing your shirt?"

Cora tore her eyes from the mirror. "Yeah, I can do that." She fought for a moment, tugging her hair through the neck hole after she'd pulled her head out. "I look way different."

Nervously, she turned back to the mirror. "Shit. Way different."

"I'm going to ask you some questions. Stop me if you need a break."

There'd been a few changes that Cora noticed, but didn't worry much about. Chest-wise, she'd never had much to be proud of. It had been a relief to find that their presence was largely ignored by her mates. She was showing, now, too. She raised her arms as Isaura inspected her shoulder.

"Wow," was all she said.

Cora's shoulders had widened, muscle draping gracefully down to her mid-back. She understood now why her mother had panicked so much. She looked like the ideal Roshak woman, minus tusks. I wonder if I'll get those, too.

The unease in her chest was softening into relief.

Isaura started out her exam like any doctor would, but just like before, she fell back into whispering to herself, taking notes. "Incredible."

She stepped behind Cora and paused. "What did this?"

Craning her neck, Cora turned her back to the mirror. "Oh! I was attacked. Some weird robot slashed me with a knife. That was the first time I really fought..."

Isaura spun her around to look her in her eyes. "You have to fight?"

"Not always. When I'm with my family, I don't need to. They're all pretty tough, especially Mar."

Her concern didn't budge. Cora described the worst of her injuries, rolling up her pants to show Isaura her knees. "Here's where I fell through the floor at a spaceport and shattered half my everything."

"Wow... Spaceport?"

Either Isaura had finished with her exam, or she'd completely forgotten about it. She'd gotten comfortable on the hotel couch, listening to Cora describe ships and ports, the different aliens, and all the foods. The sun set at some point. "Have you seen any other humans out there?"

Cora nodded brightly. "I'm not exaggerating when I say there's thousands."

Isaura's jaw dropped. "No. We can just... Leave?"

Cora nodded again.

She was quiet for a while. "Do you think I could?"

Tipping her head back and forth, Cora considered this. "It's kind of like, I don't know. Like medieval times out there. The way the laws are set up. Or maybe the Wild West? From what Tor told me, they've only had space travel for a couple generations, maybe two or three hundred years. There's not a lot of exploding spaceships like in the movies, but there's not really anyone in charge. The laws are super unclear and as long as you don't piss off someone's queen, you're usually fine." Cora remembered the couple employed on Koramin's ship. "I've seen them working all kinds of jobs."

Isaura chewed at a hangnail. "Was learning their languages hard?"

"I think..." Cora ran a hand over her hair. "Don't quote me on this, but I think that the Yarlott's standard language is Spanish. When they do official broadcasts of government meetings, one screen had Spanish subtitles. I've never heard them speak anything else."

At this, Isaura went silent, and didn't move for at least ten minutes. Just as Cora started to doze off, she clapped her hands, startling her. "That was a lot of questions, I know. I was distracted."

She rose from the couch, tapping her computer's space bar. "One more thing, then I'll let you go. Can you lay down for me?"

Cora reclined. "Do I need to take off my shirt again?"

"No, just lift it up."

Isaura leaned over Cora, placing her hands on either side of her stomach. "You haven't had any wellness visits for your pregnancies, have you?"

Cora flinched at this. "Uh... No. The first few were just eggs. Not a lot to be done there. This one's other parent is a different species."

She was failing miserably at keeping a professional countenance. "Eggs. So are, uh, live births not common out there?"

While Isaura pressed into her stomach at different angles, Cora thought. "Uh, no. No. I- Hey, wait a second." She glared at the ceiling.

"What?"

"I- Well, someone told me that Sheevae don't need to have sex to reproduce, then Tarina made me go through a whole ritual just to get me pregnant."

The professionalism evaporated, leaving behind a pained grimace. "Ritual."

"Not like that, we drank something weird, danced for a while, then did the, uh, you-know-what."

"That doesn't make it sound any better... Do they all do that?"

"Drink, go dancing, fuck?" Cora gave her a long, dry look.

It clicked. "Oh. Ohhh. You're right. Okay. My bad."

She pulled Cora's shirt down. "I'm not seeing much in terms of stretch marks, how big were the, uh, eggs, if you don't mind me asking?"

Cora held up her hands. "Yea big, like a grapefruit?"

Isaura gagged. "Shit."

Leaning forward, Cora fixed her with the driest look she could muster. "Thank God human babies are only the size of chicken eggs."

"That's not- they had to put them in you, right?" Isaura had turned a funny color.

"No. I got fucked the normal way, then the eggs came later. You only get eggs laid in you if you fuck the spider ladies. And those come right out once they get up to a certain temperature. They only leave those eggs in if they really don't like you."

She shot up from her chair. "I'm changing the subject!"

After a night to process Cora's sex life, Isaura resumed her questioning, blissfully free of any mention of eggs.

If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was wanting to leave, too.

"She's very talkative this morning," Mital blearily remarked. He'd managed to stay up through several of his usual rest times after getting sucked into, much to Cora's initial dismay, Telemundo's paid programming, followed by Caso Cerrado.

At least he hasn't asked me to translate for Sed de Venganza. I don't think I could.

"Do Isaura and I talk too loudly?"

He shook his head. "Speak. And no. You're not well if you need to live in complete silence."

Cora nodded sagely.

Isaura returned from the other room, towel-drying her hair. "I just got the text. We leave today!"

Cora wasn't sure what she'd expected from the Yarlott base, but she never expected Santiago. He was a five-foot-tall paper wasp, brown and bright yellow, his personality that of an excellent tour guide. On his head, perched between his massive compound eyes, was a tiny straw hat. It was held on with a piece of folded masking tape.

Pinned to his starched cotton work shirt was his name tag. He's wearing slacks.

He'd been speaking to them the entire tour of the facility, and Cora had yet to get over the fact that a wasp was wearing a leather belt. A nice one.

"Any questions? Cora?"

She panicked. "I like your hat."

"Thank you! Let's continue."

To Cora's mild embarrassment, Mital was the only one in their group that had come to terms with this well-dressed gentleman. The others were too busy envisioning a wasp tying his tie in the morning.

"Usually, we aren't this busy, but with current events, we have hundreds of applicants coming in every week. I'm not allowed to say why. It's 'complicated human politics'." Santiago shrugged, opening a door for them. It was a wide, open office building, packed with desks. Waiting near the front, in rows of neatly lined chairs, were humans holding overburdened clipboards. There were a lot of families, some with kids in tow. Those don't look like space tourists.

Mital stepped closer to her. "They look like they're running from something."

He was right. They looked exhausted.

Santiago pointed the waiting area out to them. "Cora, you and Mitad wait over here." He turned back to face Isaura and the men with her. "The boss is excited to speak with you all."

As their voices faded, Cora made a face. "I should make you a name tag, too."

Mital waved a hand. "It doesn't mean something bad in your language, does it?"

"Well, it's," Cora paused, thinking hard. "It's half, not like not enough, but like... Half of a whole thing. I think?" It had been too long.

The people waiting around them were watching, some openly staring. Some were dozing off.

"I wonder how long they've been waiting," Mital murmured.

Cora waved at a little girl sitting across from them. "Did it take you a while to learn how to speak so quiet, like that?"

He looked at her. "Why?"

"I still can't. When I try to, they can't hear the tones I'm making."

Mital thought for a moment. "It's been a very long time since we taught our children to speak." He tapped his palms together softly, staring at the tile floor. "Ah. You practice. It does take a while. You make each tone, bringing it down to silent. Every time, you will be able to hold it longer."

"Oh," said Cora, pleasantly surprised. "I can do that. Probably not here."

Her chair was getting more comfortable the longer she sat in it. She dozed off a few times, waking up once to find Mital completely out.

Cora found herself in a small, sparsely decorated hotel room. "Ugh." Sunlight streamed in between thick curtains.

Waiting for her in the lobby were a few covered dishes and a pot of coffee. She stared at the pot for a moment. How long had it been since she'd had coffee?

She held a hand close to the glass. Someone had just made it. The food was all warm, too, heat radiating from the towels. While reaching for a coffee mug, Cora hazarded a peek under one of the towels.

That wasn't what she was expecting.

Cora dropped the towel back down, turning to the coffee maker like she could ask it a question.

Shaking her head, she peered into another dish. And another.

It was all tamales.

She tapped her nails on the mug. They were shaped a little different, and smelled a little different, but damn it, a tamal was a tamal.

A smile slowly crept across her face as she took a small plate.

Some of them were wrapped in banana leaves. "Oh," she whispered, her smile growing.

She sat down at a small table, setting her mug down gently.

I'll have to make these for-

As soon as their faces came to mind, Cora found tears running down her face. "Shit," she mumbled, pressing her hands into her forehead.

Suddenly embarrassed, Cora snuck back to her room, carefully balancing her mug and her plate in one hand.

There, she sat on the edge of her bed, finishing her breakfast in between heaving sobs. Once done, she washed the dishes in the bathroom sink and got back into bed.

When she woke again, the clock read 10:39.

Well, at least I don't feel sad anymore.

That was a lie. She did, but her body had managed to find a distraction. An unwelcome one. Cora pressed her thighs together. Is this gonna be all day?

Groaning, she pushed herself into a seated position. "God, that's weird." Her body felt off in a way it hadn't since the experiment was ongoing.

Leaning back and forth, she took stock of every little sensation in her torso. Maybe it's the... She didn't even want to think the word. Now, it made her nervous. It had been so easy to agree to in the moment, exciting even. But now?

Cora lifted her shirt, hazarding a glance at her stomach.

It growled.

She dropped her shirt, grimacing.

Maybe I'll feel better after a shower.

Cora sat in a small office, alone except for a Yarlott typing vigorously at their computer. Isaura had went somewhere with Mital, promising her that he'd be completely safe.

The Yarlott shifted in their chair, carapace clicking audibly against itself.

She fought back a shiver. They're not big bugs, they're... guys. They're people. You didn't worry about Amola or Mitri this badly.

The Yarlott let out a hiss, scaring Cora out of her chair and towards the door.

"I'm sorry! Forgive me!" They waved their hands at her.

She kept the doorknob in her hand. "What happened?"

"I'm embarrassed!" Wait. That wasn't what they said. Cora turned that word over in her mind. They'd made a mistake, one that she'd made once being a no sabo kid.

"Did you mean to use that word? That's the word that means you have... babies."

"How did you know!?"

It took a few minutes of dimes y diretes for Cora to figure out that the Yarlott was trying to apologize, hadn't meant to announce that they were full of eggs, and were extremely uncomfortable.

They undid a few buttons on their shirt, showing carapace that bowed outward.

"You can't just..." Cora made a vague motion, insinuating to just put them somewhere?

They shook their head. "We're guests, we can't do that here. Additionally, I have to put them somewhere. I can't just... put them somewhere. On someone else's planet!"

That didn't make much sense. Cora made a face. "You won't explode, will you?"

"I don't know," they buzzed, a little too loudly.

"Where would you even put them? Are you like the, uh, Noxis?"

Their volume wavered. "No. I- I- I- don't know."

Cora wondered if her questions were just making the situation worse. Maybe I shouldn't have asked at all.

The Yarlott was now visibly shaking, their work completely abandoned.

I definitely shouldn't have used the word 'explode'.

Suddenly, they rushed for the door, hitting the light switch and turning the lock. "Help me!"

Cora wasn't sure that she had a choice, finding herself on the floor with something pressing against her lips. The minute she opened her mouth, it was filled with squishy, marble-sized objects. Oh fuck- Cora panicked as she imagined eggs in her lungs. Wrong way, wrong way. She pushed herself up as she swallowed. Ew, ew, ew. She gagged, forcing the pulsing rod in her mouth down further. It was harder to breathe now, but at least she wouldn't have to taste anything.

I gotta start thinking before I ask questions.

Taking in a thin, ragged breath, Cora let her mind wander. The Yarlott was nowhere near finished.

I don't know, now this is... Kind of hot? She couldn't decide. It was definitely the weirdest thing she'd done.

Her stomach protested as she began to run out of room. She pulled back, taking her first full breath in several minutes. The Yarlott made a thin, whining buzz. "I'm sorry, are you still not done yet?"

They quavered. "No."

"You could... Do you know how humans usually do this?"

They shook their head, just visible in the darkened room. "No. That place is too acidic."

"Too acidic?"

They reached for Cora in the dark, pushing her over and lifting her hips while pulling down her waistband. "Maybe here!"

"Maybe not there!" It was too late. Cora cringed, not sure what to expect. The smooth, lightly ridged ovipositor slipped into her ass with no discomfort.

"God, that's weird," she hissed, feeling it push deeper, the flow of eggs beginning again.

When the Yarlott began to pull out, Cora found herself disappointed. And soaking wet. Seriously?

They collapsed to the ground in front of her. "You saved me."

"It's, uh, no problem? Just don't do that to any humans here, please." Cora pressed her ear to the door before turning the light back on and unlocking it. "Do I have to worry about these hatching in me?"

The Yarlott pushed themselves to their feet. "No, they're not fertilized."

"And if they were?"

They shrugged awkwardly. "You just eat more. Maybe for one day? Fast and easy, never danger to the host. That's why there's so many of us. However, the boss says he doesn't want too many of us here, so don't get them fertilized."

Cora made a face at them. "Do you think I'm going to wear a shirt that says 'Fertilize Me'? How am I even gonna get these out-"

The door opened. Cora clamped her mouth shut, pulling at her sweatshirt to make it sit differently and hide her stomach. Isaura poked her head in. "There you are! Why are you still here?"

"You told me to wait here?"

She laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry. You didn't have to wait here." Squinting slightly, Isaura pursed her lips. "You look a little pale. Go outside. I know you weren't feeling good this morning."

Cora chewed at her lip. "Okay." The weight in her stomach swung at each step. This is fucking weird. She followed Isaura out into the hallway, stopping when she held her arm out. "Follow this hallway, there's a nice little place. I don't know. It's nice. You're not gonna be sick, are you?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm just, uh, feeling a little off today. Too much milk in my coffee, maybe."

"Mhm. Go. Doctor's orders."

Isaura hurried off, leaving Cora to head for the door. She went slowly down the hallway, feeling like she'd ate too much. "Ugh, what a day," she muttered to herself.

As she neared the exit, she passed an open office. There were two Yarlott inside, standing and facing the doorway. One of them, much taller with a longer abdomen had a familiar, awkward posture. "You, too?"

"Me, what?"

Against her better judgement, Cora stepped inside, finding herself immediately held gently from behind. Her pants stayed up this time, something cool snaking between her skin and her waistband. She let out a shaky sigh as it pushed inside.

They hadn't even shut the door.

One Yarlott stood there, chatting with passerby as Cora was pulled back around the corner. There were two more Yarlott waiting there, nervously shifting back and forth. The one inside of her was moving back and forth, gently massaging her insides. "Is there space for more?"

Cora wasn't sure she coherently responded. It had stopped feeling weird and started feeling really good. She leaned forward against the wall, weakly moving her hips. Someone tugged her pants down, just a little.

The two stepped forward, and Cora found more slick appendages pressing into her, slowly, carefully. Cold hands fondled her taut stomach, humming in awe.

I might cum from this.

Much too soon, they stopped. "Boss is coming soon." Cora fought back a whine.

"Let me open the door for you."

Grateful, she let them hold the door open as she walked stiffly outside.

It was a beautiful day. They were in a thickly wooded area, mountains rising further in the distance. Maybe I can walk this off. Following a trail, she made her way into the woods.

After only a few minutes, walking it off was clearly not an option. The eggs were sitting low in her stomach, pushing against places they really shouldn't have. It felt a little too good. Cora looked around before pressing a hand between her legs.

Her legs gave out. "Fuck," she hissed, collapsing against a tree. This wouldn't do. Maybe I can find a place to get rid of these. Uphill off the trail was a thick wall of trees and brush. Huffing and puffing, Cora made her way up to it. It was a mostly secluded alcove that took several minutes to get into. She gingerly dropped to her knees, brushing leaves from her clothes while she weighed her options. Whatever she had to do, it was probably gonna be gross. She sighed, massaging at her temples. Another situation.

When Cora next opened her eyes, she noticed a couple things. One, this alcove was intentional. The brush was placed, woven branches along the ground holding it in place and making it purposely difficult to get through. The thickest of it was covering a massive hole in the ground. And two, another smaller Yarlott was standing there.

"Mimosa told me there were some bad choices made."

Cora gave him a sour look. "Mimosa is right."

They rubbed their hands together, making faint clacking noises. "Can I help you? It will be very difficult to remove those on their own."

She regarded the Yarlott for a while, saying nothing. Much of their mannerisms were copied from the humans they worked with. This one fidgeted a lot, just like the others. Cora considered what she knew about bugs. The bigger ones laid the eggs, so the smaller ones...

It probably wasn't a good idea to be double-pregnant. That didn't seem healthy. "What do you mean?"

"How were you going to try to remove them?"

Cora slid a hand under her sweatshirt, pressing it against it her skin. She could feel the faintest of shifting. They wouldn't push out easily like Noxis eggs. "You want to fertilize them?"

Their antennae shot up. "Well, um, maybe, uh, what are you doing?"

"Go ahead. But you better get all of them." She leaned against a tree, facing it, the tie on her pants now undone.

"Are you sure?" They asked, like they weren't already holding Cora.

"Yes. But don't hurry." To her surprise, this appendage was thicker and prehensile. It crept inwards, pushing deeper and deeper.

Cora whined hoarsely as her stomach pulsed. It was full enough now that it was hard to reach her soaking-wet pussy.

"I can't stop," the Yarlott buzzed. Whatever was inside her was moving back and forth, stirring up her insides and drawing out lewd, breathy moaning. She rocked her hips desperately, pressure rising. She'd managed to get a few fingers inside, moving her hand in furious circles. "Yes, yes, oh, fuck-"

She thrust her hips forward, pressing her distended stomach against the tree just before her entire body stiffened, convulsing. The Yarlott paused, struggling as her asshole clamped down hard around their appendage.

Feeling slowly returned to her legs.

"What was that?"

Cora laughed. "Sorry. I came."

The Yarlott looked around. "You... were already here."

She laughed again, weakly, as they pulled her towards the hole.

Wings hummed as she was lowered to leaf-covered ground.

"You're much warmer than our usual hosts."

"Yeah?" Cora wheezed. "Does that mean it'll go faster?"

They shrugged. "No idea."

Her stomach convulsed, rippling strangely.

"Oh. Actually, yes, it will go faster."

Cora spent the next several minutes oscillating violently between Oh God, ew, and Oh, fuck as several different types of Yarlott eggs hatched inside of her, wriggling downwards.

She pounded a fist against the ground. "Fuck, this feels so weird!"

"Don't waste your energy pushing, they will make their own way out."

They quickly confirmed this, hurriedly pushing their way out as she complained loudly, her ears burning with embarrassment. The Yarlott triumphantly held up a large, squirming larva as Cora suddenly found herself losing consciousness. She'd been holding her breath.

Shit.

Cora came to in a quiet office, her clothes clean and back on her body. She smelled faintly of baby wipes. The sun was low in the sky.

I think, she mused, forcibly ignoring the memories rising in her mind. I think I will not be telling a soul about this. Ever.

She stretched and groaned, her body feeling like putty. Her stomach was back to a normal size, but her stretch marks from previous situations were now red and angry. Damn. I've gotta take better care of myself.

The room wasn't empty.

There was rustling from around the corner, like a fan with streamers attached. Getting up carefully, Cora leaned forward to peek at the group of silently arguing, business-casual Yarlott. Upon noticing her, they all spun around and dropped to their knees.

"Please don't tell anyone about this."

Cora held up her hands. "I was going to ask the same. But you all need to figure out a solution, you can't let this problem continue. If one of you loses control again, I don't think a human could handle all those eggs."

"We've been working on a solution."

Cora thought about the hole in the ground. The inside was clearly still under construction, but it was definitely a nest.

Uh-oh, said her humanity.

Not my circus, not my monkeys, said the rest of her, casting their vote with an overwhelming majority.

As she left the room, she did mental math on the amount of marbles that could occupy a beach ball's worth of space.

She walked faster. I need to get out of here.

As she rounded the corner, she ran into Isaura.

"You good?"

"Yep! Where's Mital?"

Isaura offered a big smile. "He's back in his room. They called your people, a ship was already on the way!"