Page 55 of Stripped By the Alien

Replacing his weapon in his belt, he walks past me. “Come along, Nora.”

I follow him through the enemy ship, my mind struggling to keep up with what I've just seen. The violence should terrify me. Some of it does. But walking behind Krix'vorr, surrounded by his crew, I feel something I can't quite explain. Not safety, exactly, but the strange certainty that whatever happens next, it will happen to someone else first.

The wreckage occupies an entire storage chamber.

At first I only see twisted metal and shattered components piled between organic support structures. Then my eyes begin picking out familiar details. The angles. The plating. The shape of the hull beneath all the damage. The symbols.

My breath catches.

That’s a Space Force scout ship, or what remains of one.

For several heartbeats I remain frozen where I stand. The wreckage is scorched black in places. Entire sections have been torn away. Some parts appear melted. Others have been crushed as though something enormous grabbed the vessel and squeezed.

"Nora?" Lucius asks.

I barely hear him. My feet carry me forward before I've consciously decided to move. Krix'vorr says something behind me, but the words blur together. The ruined scout vessel has consumed my entire attention.

I climb onto a broken section of hull and steady myself against a twisted support beam. My hands shake as I brush soot and residue from the damaged surface. Beneath the burn marks, faint identification markings emerge.

My pulse pounds harder. Can it be?

I wipe away more debris. Because I know this ship. This scout ship.

A flood of memories follows immediately. Long hours in training. Mission briefings. Arguments over strategy. A rare, shared drink. Shared personal details that made us bond, despite the rivalry among the pilots. Watching launch schedules update in orbit around Earth.

And then, watching her scout vessel depart before mine ever received clearance.

"Sophia," I whisper. The name leaves my mouth before I realize I'm speaking.

Lucius rises closer. "Captain?"

I point toward the damaged markings. "Captain Sophia Crendle. This was her ship."

The drone becomes very still. For several moments neither of us says anything. I keep running my fingers across the damaged hull, as though touching it might somehow confirm what I'm seeing.

Sophia left Earth a month before me. Just a month.

At the time I was jealous. She got the assignment first. She got the ship first. Now I'm standing over the remains of her vessel.

Krix'vorr approaches slowly. I can feel his attention on me long before he speaks. "You know this contraption?"

I nod and force myself to look away from the wreckage. "I know the pilot." The words sound strange in my own ears. Because surely I should use the past tense. Surely nobody can survive this kind of wreck. She must have hit the mine field too, but in a different place. The engine is blown apart, the cabin looks shattered and there’s definitely been a fire.

“But if someone looked at my wreckage,” I mutter, “would they think I made it?

I climb down from the wreckage and begin examining the surrounding debris more carefully. Emergency compartments have been emptied. Several storage lockers have been ripped out completely.

"They searched everything," I murmur.

Lucius drifts past me, recording continuously. "The Gzet, which I assume to be a species of alien?"

“Or these guys,” I say, nodding to the dying ship we’re in. “If Sophia survived the crash, she didn't stay with the wreck.”

Lucius circles the wreckage. “I was going to comment on that. Someone took her, dead or alive.”

Krix'vorr watches me think through the possibilities. His posture remains relaxed, though I've spent enough time around him to recognize that he's paying close attention. "You believe she still lives?"

I straighten slowly and look back at the wreckage. The answer isn't logical and there isn't enough evidence. There isn't even a good reason. Except that I know Sophia.