Alien Creep: An Alien Shifter Romance (Alien Abductors Book 1)

by Calista Skye

  “Mila, the title of this note seems to indicate that there was a Field Report Number One. But I can't find one.”

  “Oh. What is the title of the last note I made before this one?”

  “Some Notes on My Current Situation.”

  “That's no good. Retitle that one Field Report Number One.”

  “Done.”

  The cockpit of this ship has an angular canopy that gives me a pretty good view to the outside. The hangar is dark and still full of all kinds of alien junk. It's not something I've ever thought about before – aliens can be messy, too. The Bululg are so neat and businesslike, but it turns out that other species are pretty normal when you get close to them.

  Like Xan'tor. Of course, he's not normal. He's blue and huge and has dangerous spikes growing from him. And a freaking tail.

  But inside, he's pretty normal. If being totally on top of things at all times was normal. Nothing shakes him. He's just himself at all times, focused and relaxed in his own abilities.

  Okay. Time to concentrate.

  I take in the alien controls. The main ones are much the same as in Xan'tor's ship, and they kind of look like they've been put in after the ship was made. They look out of place. As if you took the steering wheel out of a car and replaced it with a set of levers. Right here and now, I would have preferred the steering wheel.

  After a little bit of study, I think I recognize most of these things from Xan'tor's ship.

  I even think I know how to start this little spaceship.

  Biting my teeth together and leaning away with one eye clenched shut, I gingerly press the button.

  The lights on the dashboard come alive, all red. It looks like the ship is telling me that absolutely everything is wrong with it, like a thousand 'check engine' lights in a car. But after a few seconds they go out, one after the other.

  A deep hum is starting somewhere behind me, and I open the canopy, ready to jump out if I think it's going to explode.

  The hum gets more intense, and the whole ship starts to vibrate gently.

  I stand up in the cockpit, with one foot on the step that makes it easier to get out.

  All the instruments are moving and doing stuff, some lights flash and then go out. The hum settles at a steady rate, and to my satisfaction and surprise the ship doesn't catch fire.

  Does it?

  I peer backwards at the long tail section, but there's no smoke. Yet.

  After a minute or so I get back into the seat and touch the speed controls. The hum immediately gets higher, and the ship shakes as if it wants to go forwards, but is held back.

  Reducing the throttle to idle, I permit myself an anxious smile. I have started a spaceship for the first time in my life. In fact, I may well be the first human to ever do that.

  Thinking about it, I may well be the first human to ever walk on – or rather inside – Titan. I may be the first human to 'thread the needle' between Saturn and its rings. I may be the first human to leave the Solar system not a captive or slave. I may be the first to fly a real spaceship. And I may be the first to lose my virginity to a blue alien like him.

  So many firsts! And probably nobody will ever know about it.

  But that last one is really the only one I care about today. Stars almighty, he's good. The way his alien cock feels inside me… Immediately, tingles start forming in the usual places. I wonder how long he'll be gone. Hopefully, he'll be back soon—

  “Having fun?”

  I jerk, startled.

  One eyestalk is peering down at me from the canopy opening.

  “Not sure I'd call it fun,” I reply. “Just getting to know this thing.”

  “Hmm,” Frox says and somehow climbs the ladder outside the cockpit. “I always thought it was fun to learn new technical things. But alien species are different, I suppose. You managed to activate the drive, anyway.”

  “Yes,” I confirm knowledgeably. “I just wanted to activate the drive.”

  “The lightspeed drive,” Frox says and drops heavily down in the seat behind me, closing the canopy. “Usually not something we do while inside a hangar. Or less than a thousand miles from one, actually. Too great a danger of the whole thing exploding like a large nuclear bomb. You set off nine different alarms in the pyramid room just now.”

  I quickly pull my hands to me. “Ohmigod!”

  A long tentacle snakes past me and pulls back a lever on the dashboard, and the hum spins down and dies away. So do all the lights on the dashboard and the instruments.

  An eyestalk passes my head and studies the dashboard from up close. “Seems to have lucked out this time,” Frox says. “Or we wouldn't be here to discuss it. Try the blue lever next to it for the main drive.”

  Half-closing my eyes, I carefully pull the lever using two fingers.

  Nothing happens except that the dashboard comes back on.

  “There,” Frox says from behind me, and the eyestalk gives me a glance. “I imagine you want to take it for a spin, yes?”

  I hesitate, not liking what he said about nuclear bombs. “Well, I'm not sure—”

  “Of course you do. Quick, grab the controls! Yes, like that. No need to flinch, you're perfectly safe. Did that blue mountain of duty and honor show you how to fly? Or did he just bore you with endless talk of duty and honor?”

  “He showed me some things,” I explain and pull on the controls, making the ship turn on its axis and point the nose out the hangar opening. Then I push the throttle, and I get a kick in my back as the little spaceship accelerates out into space.

  To my satisfaction, Frox gives a surprised “oh!” I don't like that he doesn't think Xan'tor taught me well.

  “Just some simple things,” I repeat and do a fast loop and a barrel roll. “Kid's stuff, I guess. He's not a bad teacher, our blue mountain of honor and duty.”

  Frox withdraws his tentacle and eyestalk. “He showed you how to fly a spaceship pretty well, is what you mean. Fine, sorry I doubted your abilities. I wasn't sure how much he had taught you. He can be hard to predict.”

  I accelerate more, getting a feel for this little ship. It turns faster than Xan'tor's, but it accelerates much slower. “You don't like him much, huh?”

  Frox is silent for a couple of heartbeats. Then he laughs, an eerily human thing for such a weird alien to do. “I don't like him much? Is that what you think? Human female, if you only knew.”

  “I'm all ears.”

  “When I first met Xan'tor, I was a slave. Or just about. He got me out of a very difficult situation, doing something that should be impossible. And he did it without lifting a blade or a gun. He did it by sheer force of personality. Well, you know what he's like. He can face down powerful crime lords in their own homes, being perfectly polite and cheerful.”

  “I saw him with the Bululg Brood Lord,” I tell him. “That sack of trash dismissed him, but Xan'tor just stood there and didn't move until he had the information he wanted. Like he hadn't heard he was asked to leave.”

  “He did?” Frox asks with incredulity. “The Brood Lord himself? Who has the power of life and death over everyone in that solar system? Well, then you know what I mean. Anyway, he freed me, and expected nothing in return. Nothing! He did it only because it was what he called 'the right thing'. Insane! I owe my life to him, but he never mentions it. And in the beginning, when I tried to thank him, it just embarrassed him. So I stopped trying. But I say it inside myself, every time I see him: 'Thank you'. He's the best in his business. Nobody else get close, nobody else gets paid like him. But you wouldn't know it from what he tells you.”

  I slide the ship from side to side, snaking like a sidewinder. No computer game spaceship could ever do that. “He doesn't talk about himself that much.”

  “You know the other guys in our group? Two of them come from species that are at brutal, centuries-long war with each other. And he gets them to work together like good friends. Without any effort. It just works. Because, could you stand the thought of ever disappointing h
im?”

  “No,” I confess. “Feels like the universe would end if I did.”

  “Exactly. Xan'tor commands total loyalty, and I'm not sure he even knows it. So to answer your question in the most restrained way possible: I not only like Xan'tor; I adore him.”

  “Me, too,” I say softly.

  “I know,” Frox says. “It's impossible not to. But be careful, Mila. He's all about duty and honor. And he's not joking about his clan.”

  The large planet outside comes slowly closer, and I turn away from it, back towards the ugly, derelict spaceship that's Xan'tor's base. “Why is the clan so important to him?”

  “You don't have clans on Earth?”

  “There might be some. In most countries I don't think they use the clan system.”

  “Ah! You have countries, of course. I forgot. Nations, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you have families? Your sister?”

  I make the nose of the spaceship rise so that we'll fly over the base and into black space beyond. “Uh-huh.”

  “Imagine the loyalty you feel to your country. Or after the invasion, the loyalty you feel to your planet, your own species. Your home, your customs, your language, your roots. Your people. Mix that with the love and loyalty you feel for your closest family. Roll it into one. Can you imagine it?”

  The base zooms by underneath, and in front of me is only black space. “I don't know. Maybe. It's… big.”

  “Yes. It's a big emotion. Now take that and multiply by a hundred. I know you can't do it. I most certainly can't. But that's what the clan is to Xan'tor. I just want you to know it. He's impossible to understand otherwise. Well, you’ve mastered flying this ship fine. Now I think I'll show you how to deal with the lightspeed drive. I mean, in a way that won't get us vaporized. Just put your hand on that lever...”

  - - -

  When Xan'tor returns, I'm in the Pyramid, chatting with the others and experimenting with the food machine. I've been able to have it make something that tastes a lot like a very spicy chili, and I'm pretty happy with that. But it has a lot of settings and options, and I would love for it to make a decent copy of a pepperoni pizza.

  I keep glancing at the entryway where Xan'tor will come in, hoping to see something big and blue. I miss him already, and I don't mind it at all. If being abducted by aliens and suddenly finding myself surrounded by hostile space has one good effect, it's making me allow every good emotion to flourish without censoring it. I shouldn't be this needy about anyone I've just met a few days ago, but I refuse to feel bad about it. I'm in love with him, and I'm fine with that.

  He's suddenly in the room, and a whole air force of butterflies take off in my stomach.

  He puts a box down on the floor, shakes his robe off his shoulders, and tosses it onto a crate. “I thought I smelled something,” he says, coming over to me and bending over to nuzzle my hair.

  I look up, my happiness at seeing him turned to worry. “What? Do I smell?”

  “Yes. You smell good! In this base of only males and aliens, do you have any idea how rare it is to catch a whiff of something sweet and fresh?”

  The others in the room laugh and throw funny comments.

  I understand them better now. Their constant insults and teasing is just how they bond. I guess it's the male way. Or even the alien way, I'm not too sure.

  A smile comes to my lips. “Okay. Here, try this.”

  I lift a sporkful of really hot chili to his lips, and he doesn't hesitate at all before he engulfs it. He chews only once, then freezes. “Ah. Yes. You've been playing with the food dispenser.”

  I look up at him. If he's not used to peppery hot Mexican food, he might think he's been poisoned. “What do you think?”

  He grabs a mug of water and gulps it down, sweat forming on his forehead. “It's… unusual. But it should be more spicy. Don't give me any more of that until it is at least twice as spicy.”

  “But this is as spicy as the machine can get it!”

  “Then I suppose you will never need to feed it to me again. But I appreciate the effort, Mila. Thank you. Good grief, I can't feel my tongue or lips. ”

  He nuzzles my neck again and strolls over to the main control panel. “So. Everyone done for the day? And is everyone here?”

  “Everyone appears to be here,” Frox confirms. “Even Crirux has returned. Do you have an announcement?”

  Xan'tor takes up a wide stance. “I do.”

  25

  - Mila -

  They all look up and stroll closer.

  I jump up onto my crate and dangle my legs, munching on synthetic chili that is actually a little too hot for my tastes as well.

  “Friends,” Xan'tor begins, very seriously. “We have worked hard and built our own fortune. But we have not been able to enjoy the profits. Well, we have a little bit, I suppose. Once in a while. But not that much, anyway. Not as much as we deserve. So I decree that it is time for a party. That box,” he points, “contains all the Reskit mead they had on Wrirun Station. I bought it all. And I command you – I mean us – to finish it all tonight.”

  They all cheer, then break open the box in a way that tells me it's not the first time they do this. Xan'tor gets a couple of metal cylinders out of it and brings them over. “Do you drink alcohol, Earth female?”

  I peer at the cylinder. I have seen something just like it very recently. “Sometimes, male from a planet that I don't remember the name of right now. Is that what it is?”

  “That is what it is.” He pushes a protrusion on the cylinder, and the top opens with a hard hiss. A wisp of condensation rises from it as he hands it to me. “And my planet is called Caross. It means 'battlefield' in our language.”

  “Oh. I guess that tells me all I need to know about your species.” The cylinder is heavy and smooth and looks exactly like the pipebomb I had strapped to my forearm at the Bululg space station. Just as well I never threw it into the crowd with the intention of blowing everyone up. It wasn't a pipebomb at all. It was an alien can of beer.

  Not sure how to feel about that, I sniff the one in my hand. It's not like beer at all. The scent is much more citrusy and fresh. I take a little sip. Its' like Sprite, but less sweet and clearly with a lot of alcohol in it. Making a mental note to stay with only one of these cans, I take a big sip and enjoy the freshness.

  “What do you think?” Xan'tor asks.

  “It's… unusual. But it should be at least twice as spicy. I think one can only for me.”

  He grins. “You have a warrior in you, Mila. You give as good as you get. Yes, one is probably enough for you. It's surprisingly strong.”

  The others push crates together around us so we can all sit in a rough circle. They make all kinds of alien foods, and I try most of them, offering comments. Then we're all drinking and eating and chatting up a storm. Frox finds some of the same music that I remember from the spaceship the first day, and the atmosphere is just like any party among good friends on Earth.

  I take them all in. Beloron with the green skin is a good story-teller, and he always makes his stories funny. The gigantic Renerak would scare me if I met him anywhere else, but he's in fact a mild-mannered and quiet giant that I suspect is capable of incredible violence if he's pushed too far. I've seen big guys like that on Earth.

  Frox always rolls around and works at whatever projects he has. I doubt the others see it, but I notice how he sourly makes sure that everyone is comfortable and have what they need. But I'm pretty sure his sourness is all an act.

  Prash draws my eyes, with his golden skin and three large horns that must make him dangerous in a fight. Still, except for Xan'tor, Crirux is probably the most attractive of these guys. His stunningly handsome face somehow goes perfectly with his thick fur and golden hair, and even his metallic arms don't seem out of place on him. He's a funny one, too. I think Emma would like him.

  Xan'tor sits down beside me on the crate. “We needed this. Things have been too tense lately.”


  “Lots of work and no time to relax?”

  He shrugs. “Time goes by so fast, and then you realize you've done eleven long missions end to end with no break in between. We all need to slow down a little now and then. And with you here, I can imagine no better time. We never celebrated you coming here.”

  I clink my alien can to his. “I agree. Cheers.”

  He looks at his can, as if inspecting it for dents. “Shers?”

  “Cheeeers,” I repeat slowly, the booze making me a little silly. “Your first Earth word. And the most important one. Useful for any occasion. Now say it.”

  “Sheeers,” he brays.

  “Try with a 't' first. T-sheers.”

  “Ttt-shers.”

  “A little longer in the middle. Cheeeers.”

  “Cheers.”

  “Yay! You got it.”

  He scratches his chin. “Cheers. For any occasion, you say?”

  “Any. It's never wrong to say cheers. In some places, it means 'thank you'! And in other places,” I think about it, “it doesn't. So useful!”

  “And the banging of the cans?”

  I do it again, much harder. “Cheers. Yes, it's tradition. Very important.”

  He shakes mead off his hand. “If you say so.”

  “I do say so.”

  He takes a sip. “What else do you say?”

  “Just that I wish Emma was here. You'd like her. I'm not sad, don't worry. Just saying.”

  He takes me in with those suns that can be so cold. But now they're warm. “We will get your sister.”