The Broadcast
TWENTY
Elena
“Be wary of a naga’s scent. They can affect us, especially us womanfolk, in significant ways—”
The sound of white noise fills my ears as they prick at the word naga being said on the ship’s intercom system.
I lift my eyes from the label on the large water container to the hatch above me and then down the short pathway to my right.
I’m under the main floor of my ship, trying to figure out how to open the container and praying it’s possible with one hand.
“I command the AI to go back to the previous channel!” I shout, hoping I didn’t already lose the broadcast. It’s that woman Shelby who spoke about the nagas. I keep missing her when she’s on air.
After a short bout of white noise, Shelby’s familiar voice hits my ears.
“...naga male is ready to mate, and mate for life, they will undergo two bodily changes. One, their bodies will produce and give off a stronger, thicker odor—like human musk after a long workout. And two, their penis will form a knot that will fill with seed. The former will not cause them distress, but the latter can. The knot stretches the skin and enlarges the tissue and seed sack under it, often causing pain and pleasure simultaneously.”
Wait, what?
She’s talking about their… their penises?
I knew that’s what it had to be—that or something similar—behind Lukys’s bulge, but it takes a moment to adjust to hearing naga anatomy being talked about in that way. Or in any way at all.
Sliding down into a crouch, I glower at the large attached cap at the far corner of the water container.
I press my left hand to the textured side of it and grip it as best I can, trying to open it.
When that doesn’t work, I straighten into a taller crouch to press my body against the cap’s side, encircling my good arm around it.
“But back to the naga’s scent… If a naga is producing a musky scent, then be wary before getting too close to them.
Their scent can be filled with pheromones.
It’s a natural phenomenon to entice the female that they want to breed with to be with them.
These pheromones act like a virus to infect the female, often making them want to mate—and even preparing their bodies to do so.
The nagas can’t help their pheromones, so it’s up to you to cover your nose.
Their pheromones can affect others if too much of it is inhaled.
On a side note, if your immune system is strong, you’ll be able to stave off their virus longer. ”
I pause with my body against the cap, frowning as my nose twitches with the ghost sensation of Ilubriam chocolate. My body yearns to go to my bedroom and crawl under Lukys’s thick hide.
I took it because I liked the way it smelled…
Now, days later, my room literally reeks of chocolate. It simultaneously comforts and startles me, reminding me of something I love and something I fear all in one breath.
I can’t bring myself to get rid of it. Or even to wash it.
His cave and my room have become one and the same in the darkness, and I don’t know why I’m so intrigued by a hide that does nothing except bring me right back to thinking about him.
Lukys stole me… but he didn’t hurt me. He could’ve tried to take me again, but he didn’t. He returned my stuff. Why?
Is he playing some game? Is he trying to apologize—in his own alien way?
I’m stuck with the questions. If his bulge is any indicator that he wants to mate, he made no move in that regard toward me. For a primitively living alien-human male, he’s more layered than I make him out to be.
I was weak—still am weak—and wouldn’t have been able to fend him off. He could’ve done whatever he wanted and nothing would’ve stopped him.
But… if he was producing pheromones and his scent—the Ilubriam chocolate—is a virus that prepares the female to mate, then maybe he was waiting for it to infect me?
I sigh as I lean heavily against the cap and with my good arm shove it upward. It loosens enough for me to spin it the rest of the way off. I peer in to find the container mostly empty, just like I expected.
“That virus’s name is Genesis-8. Now, to get deep into Genesis-8 and its profound effects on the very Earth around us would take all evening—and will be a presentation at a later time.
But to make a long story short… and like I have reiterated in past broadcasts, the nagas are not true aliens, they are alien-human hybrids…
Genesis-8 essentially mutates humans to allow them to breed and produce young with the nagas. ”
I pull back from the container and replace the cap, feeling marginally better for getting acquainted with it. Now when it comes time to retrieve water, it won’t be as daunting of a task. I’ll know where the water goes and how to get it there.
“—that is the end of my broadcast for tonight. Continue to listen in to further your knowledge of Earth and its unique inhabitants. Until next time, this is Shelby, the Naga Lover. Out.”
The white noise returns. While still bending over, I walk down the aisle toward the hatch. I pass various machines and storage facilities. Glancing at the wording on them, I fear I’m going to need to get acquainted with all of them too. And soon.
I could be here for months… years… If help ever comes.
I try not to think about it as I climb the short ladder up to the ship’s main floor using only my good arm. Popping out between the lounge seating and the bar, I stand and eye the large multi-gallon garbage container I scavenged from the kitchen.
Once my shoulder is better and I can lift things again, I’ll be able to use the bucket to collect my water.
“I command the AI to close the maintenance hatch.” I walk to my room to get some sleep. “I command the AI to stop the radio,” I add, passing through the open door without sparing a glance outside.
If he’s out there… I wouldn’t be able to see him in the dark.
The large ebony hide fills my vision where it’s spread across my bed. The old but still enticing smell of chocolate hits me. The door to my room slides closed as I step toward it, but before I can lie down among the silky fur, that same twinge of fear I get when I come in here comes roaring back.
I should’ve gotten rid of it. I shouldn’t have taken it in the first place.
If Shelby’s right about what she says about the nagas… I could be sick.
That’s ridiculous.
I’m not sick.
I’m just banged up.
Regardless, I grab the edge of the thick animal fur and pull it off the bed, discarding it in the corner with my clothes. Lying down on my white blanket that was underneath the hide, I toss and turn, plagued with thoughts as to why Lukys let me go.
I’m stressed, and the longer I go without a response to my broadcast, the more hopeless I feel. I play Jenna’s music as much as I can, but even that has become depressing.
And despite all of that, none of it answers the biggest question of all…
Is help coming?
I press my face into my pillow and close my eyes tightly. Help’s not coming before I help myself…
Help might not be coming at all.