Page 28 of Whisked Away By the Alien

“Sometimes I wish I could shut my family up,” I mumble beneath my breath.

“I can shoot them if you’d like,” Sten offers.

My mouth drops open. Is he serious?

The corners of his mouth quirk up into a delightfully mischievous grin. “Zyanthans have humor too.”

I release a deep breath and sink back into my chair. I’m getting the impression he understands how much my family is stressing me out. I should have realized he was joking. I don’t see any guns on him. Which makes me curious about his weapons.

“Are you packing?”

“Golda!” my mother scolds.

“I meant a weapon, Mom. Good grief.”

“It’s impolite to ask a guest such a personal question,” she says, lifting her head high trying to recoup any lost dignity she just suffered. Yup, she can butcher his name but I can’t ask a simple question.

“You’ve already seen my weapons,” Sten says so innocently that I choke on my water. He’s probably not familiar with the euphemism, and likely meant his knives. Ihopehe meant his knives.

“I am a trained warrior. We never go anywhere without weapons. Throwing knives are standard equipment because they require little maintenance. We usually carry a blaster as well, but I do not have one at the moment.”

“I know you’re part of GI7, but why were you sent to New York?” Dad asks.

“GI7 plans to open a field office in New York City so we have agents closer to the witnesses located in this half of the continent. First, I have to gain a better understanding of humans and their culture to ensure I can protect our witnesses here.”

“That explains what Charles meant when he said you needed hands-on-experience. How long have you been on Earth?”

“I arrived on Earth two weeks ago. Los Angeles. Four days ago, my commander reassigned me to New York City. As part of my preparation for working on Earth, I learned English and studied all available material we have on your planet. But it’s not as effective as learning through experience. My Commander sent me here partially as a test.”

“I wish Charles would have told me you don’t have cooking experience. I would have come up with something else for you to do during your stay.”

“I’m expected to teach myself whatever is required in any situation. Usually that means finding new routes, the best place to set charges and infiltrate enemy territory. Not how to fry a potato. But nothing we learn is considered useless.”

“Like adding eggs to a recipe means removing them from the shell first,” I tease.

“But you threw the entire apple into the mill to make the applesauce,” Stenikov counters.

He has a point.

“The mill grinds everything and separates the skin and seeds from the pulp. But you didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one in charge. It was my job to provide all the necessary instructions.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Golda is not in the military and never will be,” Mom pipes up. “I know they’re allowing women in, but those are women who know how to finish what they start.”

Here we go.

“I didn’t enjoy working with Mr. Townsend, Mom. Mixing chemicals bored me.”

“There’s a big need for pharmacists. Three weeks isn’t enough time to discover what you like.”

Okay, this one’s on me. I engaged her. I know better. One quick glance at the clock on the wall doesn’t save me as Mom continues lecturing me about the warehouse being no place for a bright woman, and how I’ll never meet the right type of guy there like I would at a pharmacy.

As I run through the bus schedule in my head, deciding when I should escape, a large hand wraps around mine beneath the table. Sten’s holding my hand! That nearly knocks the breath from my body.

“On Zyan, adults choose their own field, based on interest and talent.”

That shuts Mom up. I want to look at Sten, but I’m afraid if I do I might cry because he’s done something no one else has ever done in a similar situation. Stood up for me. And if I cry now, Mom will take that as confirmation that my job and personal life make me miserable. But they don’t. Do they?

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