She watched. She waited. Time passed. Nothing happened. Their nerves became more frayed with every passing minute.

“Someone’s approaching.” Raphael’s bass voice crackled through her comm. “I’ve got multiple heat signatures.”

“How many of them are out there, Raf?” Calexa gestured to Mai and Zahra. They nodded in acknowledgement, their oxygenated helmets partly obscuring their faces. They were down in the exit-dock, clad in full combat-gear.

They started to move toward the airlock.

“Hard to say… power’s failing. The external monitor keeps going offline. Around twenty or thirty souls is my estimate.”

So they were significantly outnumbered. That was no surprise. They’d just been swallowed by a spaceship bigger than anything she’d seen in her life.

“What’s the atmosphere like out there?”

“Livable, according to the sensors. At least twenty percent oxygen. Seems… tropical.”

“Tropical?”

“A little humid, a little warm. You’d probably find it pleasant, Cal.”

“Huh.” They reached the airlock. Calexa punched the manual override and they stepped inside.

And waited.

A small port-hole was their only window to the outside. Unable to contain her curiosity, Calexa moved to the side and stared through it.

Darkness stared back at her.

“What’s that saying, Cal?” Zahra was right behind her. “If you gaze too long into the abyss…”

“I’ve heard that one, I think. She who fights monsters, or something like that.” Calexa placed her hand against the glass and tried to clear her mind of frantic thoughts.

What the hell is out there?

Whatever it was, she wasn’t letting them—or it—onto her ship without a fight.

In the blink of an eye, darkness turned into light, revealing a cavernous space. A horde of faces stared back at them.

“Whoa.”

The faces were… violet. Deep, dark violet, like a fading Mars sunset.

Violet and black.

“Holy hell,” Mai said. “Who turned on the lights? I have not seen the likes of those guys before, and I thought I was pretty well traveled for a human. What the hell… are they?”

“I don’t know.” Calexa’s voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t recognize the species.” She scanned the crowd outside, trying to get a sense of their intentions.

Raphael’s estimation of numbers was accurate. There were around two dozen of them, and they stood in a defensive formation, watching the Medusa with solemn expressions. Without exception, they were all armed to the teeth. Various knives adorned their bodies, and the long spearlike weapons they held had vicious looking white blades affixed to one end.

“They look like a fucking handful,” Zahra remarked, her tone uncharacteristically subdued. “I am not excited about taking them on. Can we please try and avoid that scenario at all costs?”

Calexa had to agree. “We’ll wait until they initiate communication. I’m not opening the doors without a bloody good reason.”

There was something strangely primal about the appearance of these aliens. Their features were stark and elegant. High, noble foreheads and sharp cheekbones framed slanted obsidian eyes, and they shared a unique hairstyle. Long, gleaming black hair was drawn into a braid that ran down the center of the head. On both sides, their scalps were shorn, giving them a wild, rakish look.

Their powerful bodies were encased in dark grey armor unlike anything Calexa had seen before. It was constructed from a series of plates, some large, some small, which were all connected in an organic, asymmetrical fashion. The effect was striking, the armor forming a sculptural sheath around their lean, powerful physiques. Artfully placed spikes and horns protruded from their shoulders, and around the left leg of each warrior, there was a strange looking black coil; a thick, rope-like thing that curled around the limb from thigh to ankle.

What was most fascinating, however, was their skin. Royal violet was the term that came to mind. The rich hue was accentuated by black markings that varied from face-to-face, forming distinctive striped patterns that coalesced around the eyes, mouth, and cheeks. No two warriors possessed the same facial markings. The intricate patterns appeared to be as unique as fingerprints.

“What a pretty shade of purple,” Mai remarked. “Not that there’s anything lovely about them…”

Momentarily transfixed, Calexa could only nod in agreement. For some reason, she got the sense these strange warriors didn’t belong on this enormous spaceship. They didn’t match their surroundings, which were cold and grey and empty.

A commotion started at the back of the group and rippled through to the front. Slowly, the wall of warriors parted.

They were making way for someone.

The leader of this unit, perhaps?

Two figures emerged through the crowd. The first was a warrior like the others. He carried the same long blade-tipped weapon. The only thing distinguishing him from the rest was the fact that he wore no armor.

He wore very little at all, save for a pair of loose black trousers. His broad chest was bare, revealing a powerful, muscular body. The pigmented markings on his face continued down his arms and torso, creating a fascinating interplay of color and darkness.

Around his neck was a thin silver torc. A symbol of rank, perhaps? He wore his state of undress with a regal sort of indifference, as if he expected the Universe to fall into line around him.

“That’s the boss right there,” Zahra said. “See how they make way for him?”

“And the other guy?” Mai’s voice held a note of trepidation.

Calexa studied the second alien, who walked alongside the bare-chested guy.

Zahra groaned. “Bad news, that’s what he is.”

She was probably right. Alien number two looked… sinister. Although he was of a similar height and build to the others, he seemed completely different.

His armor was different. It was dark grey, and it shimmered under the bright lights. It was fluid and seamless, and it appeared to be constructed of thousands of tiny scales.

A pair of curved blades hung at his side. Strangely, he didn’t carry any sort of gun.

She could make out nothing of his features. His face was hidden by a very tech-looking helmet which was at odds with the garb of the warriors surrounding him.

He came to a standstill alongside his companion and looked up at the Medusa.

A strange sensation rippled down Calexa’s spine. It was as if the alien could see through the reflective surface of the port-hole window. He seemed to be staring straight through her.

But that was impossible, because the super-reinforced window was one-way glass.

“There’s something odd about that one. See how the others give him a wide berth?” Zahra’s grey eyes widened.

“It’s almost as if they’re… scared of him.”

“Hm.” Between the sinister one and the bare-chested warrior-chief, it was hard to tell who called the shots.

Warrior-chief said something to the mysterious one. Mysterious One shook his head, crossed his arms, and waited.

“About fifteen minutes.”

“What?” Calexa blinked, not quite comprehending Raphael’s warning. The big navigator could be unintentionally obtuse at times. That was one of the drawbacks of supposedly possessing ‘higher intelligence’.

“That’s how long we’ve got until our backup power supply starts to get seriously low. Pulling out the landing gear sucked up more energy than I thought. The systems are already unstable. I’m going to have to down-cycle the cabin lighting soon, but I’ll try and keep the ventilators on for as long as possible. We’re cycling external air now. Our endogenous oxygen’s completely gone.”

“I’m guessing the pulse cannon won’t fire, and unleashing a triticore missile in here would be a bad idea, wouldn’t it?”

“Correct. There would be significant blowback.”

“So we’re virtually defenseless?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call you three banshees defenseless, but you are between a rock and a hard place.”

“Huh?”

“Old Earth saying. Sooner or later, we’re going to have to set foot out there. Preferably sooner, before the ventilator system fails, and before our power gets so low that we can’t open the airlock.”

“How far has Monroe gone with the repairs?”

“He isn’t going to get the main powerbank up and running within the next fifteen minutes, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“How long?”

“An hour if we’re lucky, and that’s just because it’s Monroe, and he’s a freak. That sort of job would take an advanced repair-bot half a day to complete, you know.”

Calexa swore. Full automation had its advantages and its drawbacks. In this case, the Medusa’s seamlessly integrated networks were about to disable the entire fucking ship.

She turned to Mai and Zahra. “You two get down to the passenger bay and stand guard. I’m going to ask Raf to open the airlock.”

“What? We can’t open it. Not with those guys just waiting—”

“Go and guard our passengers. We don’t have too many options right now. The ship’s systems are about to go dead.” Calexa set her PX-45 to live-mode. With her other hand, she unhooked a frag-grenade from her weapons belt. “I’ll handle it from this end.”

“Cal…” Zahra regarded the frag-grenade in Calexa’s hand with a dubious expression.

“Relax,” Calexa said in what she hoped was a calm, reassuring manner.

“Why is it that whenever you say ‘relax’ in that tone of voice, I always get the feeling you’re about to do something downright insane?”

“I’m going to make first contact, that’s all. Don’t worry. I’ll convince them that the last thing we want is a fight. This,” she opened her fingers to reveal the dull metal grenade, “is just for… insurance.”

Just in case something got lost in translation.

Considering there was no way their databases would have a translator algorithm for whatever language these aliens spoke—hell, Calexa didn’t even know what species they were—that was a very real possibility indeed.

“We’re not leaving you to face them on your own.” Mai swiveled slowly on her heel, aiming her Irradium cannon through the tiny port-hole window. “If Raf’s going to open the airlock, then maybe I could fire a warning sho—”

Calexa shook her head. “Get down there and guard our passengers,” she insisted, her voice softening. “I’m the gatekeeper, the test case, the sacrificial lamb. We don’t know what they want with us, and they don’t know what we’re capable of, so let me dip my toe in the waters first. I’ll try and buy us as much time as possible so Monroe has a chance to fix the powerbank. That way, we’ll know for sure whether their intentions are hostile or—”

“You’re not going to give yourself up, are you?” Zahra was aghast.

“I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I won’t be taken as a helpless captive, and I’m damn hard to kill.”

“Princess isn’t going to be happy about this.”

“S has no say in the matter,” Calexa snapped. “My ship, my rules. You two go down there and keep them safe. What you decide to do next depends on what happens to me. Just try to keep everyone on the Medusa at all costs. It’s our only line of defense.”

“You’re nuts, Cal.” The resignation in Zahra’s voice was mixed with affection.

Calexa shook her head. “Sanity is a relative thing in our universe. Whatever happens, I trust you both to keep it real.”

Zahra and Mai nodded grimly, exchanging a knowing look.

“We have a reputation to maintain, don’t we?” Mai smirked, and her expression alone—a great fuck you to the circumstances they found themselves in—warmed Calexa’s scarred heart.