Page 16 of Oh No, I Shot A Spaceship And Kissed An Alien Cyberchef

“And you believe my return would magically solve everything?” Rist asks, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. “Need I remind you how spectacularly our last attempt failed?”

There’s a heavy pause before the General speaks again, his voice lowered. “This time would be different. We have more support, better intelligence. The military is on our side now.”

“You’re talking about a coup,” Rist says flatly.

My eyes widen. A coup? As in, overthrowing a government? I knew Rist was some kind of exiled prince, but I had no idea things were this serious.

“I’m talking about restoring Latium to its former glory,” General Karzak insists. “About giving our people the leader they deserve. You, Your Highness.”

“And if I refuse?” Rist asks.

The General’s response is immediate and cold. “Then I fear for the future of our world. Your brother grows moreparanoid by the day. There are whispers of mass arrests, of dissenters disappearing in the night. How long before he turns on your supporters here? On your friends?”

A chill runs down my spine. Are we in danger? Is that why everyone’s been so on edge about the General’s visit?

No, I can’t let myself spiral like this. I grit my teeth. No. I’m more than what he said I was. I have to be. Everyone is counting on me.

“The longer you hide here, playing hotelier to aliens and refugees, the worse things become at home.”

I bristle at his dismissive tone. We may be aliens and refugees, but this hotel has become a home for many of us. A safe haven.

“I need time to think,” Rist says finally. “This isn’t a decision to be made lightly.”

“Of course, Your Highness. But please, don’t take too long. Our window of opportunity grows smaller with each passing day.”

Realizing the conversation is winding down, I quickly straighten up and raise my hand to knock. Before my knuckles can make contact, the door swings open fully.

I find myself face to face with the imposing figure of General Karzak. He towers over me, his crimson skin a shade darker than Rist’s. Somehow the black of his eyes flares in the low light, looking just like how a cat’s might. Predator, my primitive human brain supplies. Goosebumps prickle my skin as I realize just how much danger I might be in all of a sudden for overhearing things that shouldn’t have even been said.

Seriously, if you’re going to have a private conversation, close the damn door! What is this, amateur hour at the alien conspiracy club?

“I... uh... dinner!” I stammer, thrusting theplatter forward like a shield. Smooth, Laura. Really smooth. I might as well have yelled “Look, a distraction!” and tried to run away.

The General’s eyes narrow, and for a heart-stopping moment, I wonder if he knows I was eavesdropping. But then his gaze drops to the elaborately arranged meal, and his expression softens slightly. He raises a hand and taps one of his highly polished horns. For the first time, I notice they are adorned with intricate metalwork, engraved swirls and… is that a couple of gems? Is this guy just putting priceless jewelry on his head? I really hope they are fake, cause they look seriously tacky.

The General steps aside to let me enter. “It appears our discussion will have to wait, Your Highness. Duty calls, in the form of... what is this delightful aroma?”

I move into the room, grateful for the distraction. “It’s, um, Gral’thok Shu’vari, sir. At least, that’s what the chef called it. I just helped with the chopping and plating.”

Rist raises an eyebrow, looking impressed. “Gral’thok Shu’vari? That’s quite an ambitious dish. I’m surprised Nelan remembered how to prepare it without his precious NutriSynth.”

“Indeed,” General Karzak agrees, leaning in to inspect the plate as I set it on the ornate dining table. “It’s been years since I’ve had a properly prepared meal of this caliber. The presentation is always... unconventional, but intriguing.”

I bite back a snort, remembering Nelan’s obsessive fussing over the placement of each tentacle. If this is “unconventional,” I’d hate to see what passes for normal in Volscian cuisine.

“I hope it meets your expectations, sir,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. It’s hard to look at the General now,knowing what I’ve overheard. Does he see me as just another alien refugee, unworthy of this planet? Of Rist’s protection? Am I like the garnish on this dish – decorative, but ultimately disposable?

The General picks up a utensil – something that looks like a cross between a fork and a pair of tweezers – and delicately lifts a piece of tentacle to his mouth. As he chews, his eyes widen slightly.

“Just as remarkable as I remember,” he says after swallowing. “Please convey my compliments to your chef. This is easily the finest Gral’thok Shu’vari I’ve tasted outside of the royal kitchens.”

A wave of pride washes over me, quickly followed by confusion. Why do I care so much about this stuffy General’s opinion? Because it validates Nelan’s hard work, a small voice in my head whispers. Because you want him to be right, to be as skilled as he claims.

I push the thoughts aside, focusing on maintaining a professional demeanor. “I’m glad you enjoy it, sir. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you,” Rist says curtly, before the General even has a chance to reply. “That will be all for now.”

I almost balk at the way Rist gave his clear dismissal. I’m so accustomed to him being soft and sweet, despite his imposing physical size and form. The way he talks now… it’s every inch the uncaring politician.

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