Page 41 of OmnitronW
“Plumber’s butt,” Lt. Dish said. “I wish I could unsee that.”
Its shirt didn’t cover the ample stomach hanging out over the trousers and said stomach was covered with a mat of dark hair. The figure paused to scratch at this and may have said something because other figure, smaller-in-height figure appeared. He or she was also round with smaller rolls of flesh that even seemed to be settled around the ankles.
The companion’s clothes were as shabby and dirty as the larger figure, though thankfully, this figure didn’t present a rear view as they both walked toward the shuttle.
The larger figure pulled a large, gray square of what might be fabric out of a pocket and rubbed his glistening face.
His? She studied the face on top of the rolls and decided he did look male. It had a scruffy beard, a partially balding top of his weirdly round head, and a fringe of hair sticking out around the bald spot.
“Well,” Lt. Dish said.
When she didn’t say anything else, Riina looked back and saw her grimace.
It did seem to sum up the alien’s appearance.
The man approached their shuttle and stopped, putting his hands on his ample hips—she presumed they were in their somewhere—and tipped his head back.
His eyes were rheumy, red, and a kind of muddy brown.
He rubbed his face with the cloth again and Riina realized it was illuminated with some kind of light that didn’t seem natural.
“Can we hear what he’s saying?” Tim asked.
There was a pause. It wasn’t a surprise. Veirn was in severe lockdown mode.
Then a voice came through the speaker. She couldn’t understand anything but one word.
Garradian.
He had recognized the shuttle. That was interesting, possibly encouraging. Or terrifying. She wasn’t sure which.
“I am working on a translation,” Veirn said, as if anticipating the question. “Their language is not completely unfamiliar.”
Did the AI sound as relieved as this made her feel? It was possibly unreasonable to feel relieved at all. They appeared to have been dropped into an alien dumping depot.
Laws of salvage were different in each system and galaxy. But most laws only went into effect when everyone on board was dead.
That could be good. Or it could be bad. It all depended on the ethics of the two out there.
And they didn’t look wildly ethical, not if the gleam of avarice in the big one’s eyes were an indication. But looks could be deceiving. Case in point, the former cyborg and the cyborg in their cockpit. First contact with them had been terrifying and fraught.
“I believe I’m beginning to understand them,” Veirn said. “They are discussing the salvage of this shuttle and how long it will take to breach its systems.”
Sometimes it wasn’t wonderful to be correct.
“We will need to talk to them,” Riina said.
Tim’s head jerked her direction.
“No, I’m not volunteering,” she reassured him.
“Humans,” Trac said, “could survive in the outside atmosphere, but it would not be comfortable, and they shouldn’t stay out there for an extended period of time.”
Riina might be relieved to learn this. She should probably be excited about yet another first contact.
She wasn’t.
For some reason, perhaps an imp of mischief she didn’t know she was capable of, caused her to look at Drun.
