7. Voices
SEVEN
VOICES
Elena
“You don’t need to be afraid of the naga, but you need to be wary of them. Like all sentient beings, they must be shown respect—”
I cringe into my arm. My world spins and I slip back into unconsciousness.
“We are on the naga’s land. They are not on ours. You must remember that when you’re outside your ship. If you encounter a naga or one approaches you, try to speak to them. Many of them understand the common tongue and are proficient in it, though some less so. But be cautious, always be cautious—”
A woman’s voice fills my ears, and despite being woozy, they prick to the word naga being repeated.
“Though most of the nagas have territories of their own, some are nomadic. Those that have nests guard them and will not let just anyone near, so if you happen to be near one, or stumble upon one of them, leave promptly. Signs to look out for are animal hides and bones. They like to wrap the spines of their enemies around trees as a warning. You will not win a fight against a naga in hand-to-hand combat, especially not on their own turf—”
Peeling my eyes open, I lift my head from my arm and blink out the sleepiness. While the woman continues speaking, I peer at the windows of the dome where I see my reflection staring back at me.
“If you are a woman and you are alone, or without a male companion, be extra cautious if you must leave your ship. As someone who is in a relationship with a naga herself, many male nagas are keen on finding their mates. With no females of their own for the males to mate with, they have turned their eye on us. They are lonely. If a naga takes you and abducts you to their nest, try reasoning with him. Most, in my experience, are sympathetic to females of all species. Though there are exceptions…”
I blink at my reflection in the dim light, taking in the woman’s words. It’s dark out now and I can’t see anything except the deep shadows of the wilderness and the stars in the night sky. Everything else is either black or a reflection of the light inside the ship.
If a naga tried to abduct me, I wouldn’t try reasoning with them. I’d be fighting.
“The nagas can be our friends—our allies. They can help you adjust in this… overwhelmingly awful transitional period we’re all going through, but remember, not all naga are the same.
Their color and tail pattern will tell you what clan they are from, and some clans are more reactionary than others.
Some clans are more trustworthy than others.
” I hear her yawn. “But that’s all from me for tonight.
Continue to listen to this channel to further your knowledge of Earth and its unique inhabitants.
Until next time, this is Shelby, your source on all things naga. Out.”
The radio signal cuts off, turning to static. The woman’s voice fades within the white noise.
I shake my head, going over everything this Shelby just said, trying to remember the parts I was still waking up to. She’s in a relationship with an alien.
Did I hear that correctly?
Sitting back in my chair, I rub my eyes. As the white noise fills my ears, the darkness outside grows in my periphery. I lower my hands to look at it.
She mentioned they have tails… with patterns and colors…
What the hell do these nagas look like?
I keep hearing about them, first over Supreme Commander Volp’s intercom that one on The Dreadnaut had escaped into the ship, then over the broadcasts of others who have encountered them, and now again from this Shelby.
No one has actually described them. Only that they’re big and partially humanoid.
If people are talking about their appearance, I must be missing it.
I try to imagine one, picturing a humanoid man with a tail—a large man with a colorful skin tone and splotchy yet intricate patterns running up and down his arms. Tattoos are common, so it’s not too hard for me to come up with an image in my mind.
The size of the tail is where I stumble—and their faces.
If this Shelby is with one of these nagas, then they can’t be horrifying, right?
Like the Lurkers or the Ketts… No one would or even could be in a relationship with one of those.
Getting up from my seat, I press my hands to my lower back and stretch my spine, moaning from the constant overall body ache I’m suffering through. I wince at the empty liquor bottles on the control panel and reach for the half-empty cup of water, tipping my head back and downing it in one go.
My eyes widen on the moon directly above me.
I’m never in the front of the ship this late at night. I don’t like how I can’t see what’s outside. I especially don’t like the idea that something could be watching me from the darkness, with thoughts that I could be their next meal.
I stare at the large luminescent orb that’s casting the landscape in glowing silver. The Dreadnaut was stationed near it. Now, it’s wreckage…
“I command the AI to turn off the interior lights.”
The ship gradually darkens.
The branches of the tree at the front of my ship suddenly rustle, catching my attention.
Watching the trees shake until they stop, I slowly walk to the front.
The silver light cast by the moon illuminates the branches, but only their outlines.
There’s nothing moving among them, no wayward animal lurking about.
But the same branches keep rustling. Not often, or all the time, but enough to make it strange that I’ve never seen anything to cause it.
Two small dots glint in the darkness.
I freeze and my breath catches. A shape, unlike the other jagged shapes around it, emerges from the deepest shadows. My brows furrow as the dots continue to gleam while I slowly comprehend what I’m staring at.
Eyes.
I lurch backward, my heart slamming into my throat.
“I command the AI to turn on the lights,” I gasp as I pivot on my heel and stumble to the back of the ship.
Fleeing to the bathroom, I pause after the door closes behind me.
I wait and listen to the sounds of the ship, to the low hum of electricity flowing through it and into the many machines and systems, using the background noise to comfort me.
I’m safe. I’m surrounded by walls.
But I know what I saw… Something’s outside the ship. Something that’s definitely not Levy or Greg.
Could it be…? I shake my head before rubbing my temples with the pads of my fingers. No.
Maybe it was nothing at all? I walk to the mirror and look at my sallow expression and sunken eyes.
It was probably nothing. I’d just been listening to the radio about nagas; of course I’m going to imagine seeing one.
I grab hold of an old bottle of painkillers—one’s I found in my parent’s room—that’s sitting on the counter and fill the bathroom’s cup with water, plopping several pills in my mouth and washing them down.
I brush my hair with my fingers when a wave of resentment and sorrow hits me.
Hungover and using painkillers for dumb reasons…
I punch the mirror, cracking it with my middle knuckle.
Pain erupts in my hand and I gasp, cradling it to my chest. I bring my throbbing knuckle to my mouth to suck the blood now seeping from it.
Glaring at my pallid face like it hit me instead of me hitting it, I can’t help but acknowledge that it looks better with a crack through it.
Without a glance outside to see if something is really out there, I leave the bathroom and flee to my room ashamed. I curl up on my bed, pulling the thick white comforter over my face, using the pain from my knuckle to distract me.
If they could see me now, Mom and Dad would be so proud.
This time—the tears don’t flow.