“I hadn’t a clue it was possible for his kind to be trained into docility. The Ulseh tend to be a wild bunch, you see.”

Luenos’s grip tenses around my crutch. His teeth part and give way to a threatening scowl. For a moment, it looks like he wants to say something, but with four hands rested against his knees; he digs his nails into his skin, looks down, and keeps to himself.

“I didn’t,” I say. “We’re friends.”

This time, it is both Maxwell and Vihkir that burst out into laughter.

Maxwell slaps his knee. “Forget what I said before,” he howls, doing his best to catch his breath with a hand pressed to his chest. “This is— this is too good. Friends?” He snorts. “You were just in charge of babysitting him to make sure he didn’t eat nobody.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, brother.” My attention wanders Vihkir’s way. “Why does that seem so strange to you?” I ask him. “We took you in, and you haven’t been hostile so far, so why not—”

Keeping his gaze on me, Vihkir points to Luenos. “Because he’s a monster,” is what he says.

The ship jumps as we slowly prepare for landing. My throat goes dry. “And I didn’t think people befriended monsters, especially not ones that try to destroy entire civilizations.”

It hadn’t occurred to me that aliens could consider one another as monsters. But of course my reasoning was faulty. Of course they have enemies just like us. However…entire civilizations? And Luenos being one of those at fault? I frown. “What are you talking about? Luenos isn’t a—”

Maxwell’s cackles only grow louder. “And what does that make you then, my friend?” he cries, his eyes glossy with tears as he points to Vihkir. “Have you even seen yourself? You look like a scorpion had a mad orgy with buckets of red paint.”

Vihkir turns to face me. He smiles… At least, I think that’s a smile?

“Is it safe for me to assume this human was never taught manners?” Vihkir pouts, tilts his head, and adds, “Also, what is a scorpion?’

Hoping it’s polite etiquette in his culture, and not a declaration of war, I smile back. “A scorpion is a creature we often find roaming deserts back on Earth. To answer your question regarding Maxwell’s behavior, though, I wish it were the case. However, considering our father always strived to teach us only the best of manners, I fear there are no explanations that could excuse his questionable…choices when it comes to language.”

Vihkir’s lips part. He cocks his head to the side. “I had no idea humans were aware of Strauke culture.” His nose twitches. “Do tell me where you found this information,” he says, both baffled and disgusted all at once.

I pause. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Your comrade,” he says. “He holds knowledge regarding the significance of red paint to us.”

“I’m… I’m sorry?” I tug at my collar. “I don’t think I quite follow.”

Luenos leans forward. < Telling someone their markings aren’t true, that they are nothing more than paint, is an insult to the Strauke,> he says. < It means they aren’t purebred, which also implies they deserve swift death. >

I gulp. My gaze falls onto Vihkir’s figure. “Is… Is that true?” I ask him.

He crosses his arms, nods, and says: “Indeed it is, human. Was this not what you referred to when we both agreed on his insolence?”

“Hey!” Maxwell shouts, stomping his foot once more. “I can understand you, you know— wait.” His eyes go wide. He gasps. “I can understand you?” Turning my way, grasping both my shoulders, Maxwell shakes me. “Vance! Vance! What do you think this means?” The giddy joy of a scientist calling, “Eureka!” slides into his happy tone. “Was it just a matter of time?” He gasps. “I knew you couldn’t be the only one. Also, why pick someone as normal as you? Of course the gift to understand would come my way at some point! Maybe it was even more difficult to communicate with me because I’m such an overachiever and they couldn’t handle—"

“Ahem.” Vihkir clears his throat. The sound is more human than I would have guessed possible from him. “Let me stop you right there, human,” he says. “First off, I fail to understand why it took you so long to realize this. Secondly”—Vihkir points to Luenos with his thumb and a closed fist—“this one over here isn’t like me. I have no clue as to what his terms might be, but whatever the case, I can assure you I speak a tongue that all understand.”

Maxwell squints. He crosses his legs and says: “Explain.”

“You see—”

The pod’s engine dies.

“We’re here!”—Kevin, Kyra, Klinton?—the man shouts as he pauses midway from leaving the now open hatch.

I sigh.

I really need to remember his name.

“Yeah.” Maxwell waves him away. “You go on ahead.” Turning back to Vihkir, he smirks, spreads his arms and legs across the bench and says: “I’ve got some shit to attend to right here.” And suddenly, I’m very glad our cultures aren’t the same when it comes to profanity. “Let’s hear it, scorpion-man. What’s your deal?”

“My name is Vihkir,” he mutters. “And I am not whatever these scorpion-things you insist on mentioning, repeatedly, are. I am a Strauke prince. Or, at least…I was.”

I part my lips, eager to ask how a future leader of his country—or perhaps would it be his planet in this case?—ended up here.

But Maxwell beats me to it.

“Enough of the chitchat already,” he says, waving his palm around. “Just tell me if I’m some kind of chosen one or not so I can go work for thirty hours straight and pass out for three days once I'm done.”

Vihkir’s shoulders slump. “Very well then,” he says. “What I emit when it seems as if I’m speaking with you aren’t actual words per se, but waves with certain emotions your little human brains then interpret as, I should hope, the correct message. By no means is there talk of a”—his nose twitches—“chosen one.”

Maxwell’s fingers travel to his knees. He pushes himself up and huffs. “Well then.” Head hung low, he walks toward the exit. “That was fun while it lasted, kiddos.” Maxwell pauses. He looks at me from over his shoulder. “Do something with these two, will you? But… Whatever you decide to do, just don’t leave them in the pod. Oh yeah, also, take scorpion-man to the infirmary if he’s still bleeding. And… Clean up the blood afterward. Thanks.”

Vihkir sighs. “He’s not ever going to call me by my name, is he?”

I shake my head and laugh. “Don’t take it personally. Unfortunately, the Maxwell treatment isn’t otherworldly-being exclusive.” Standing in turn, I peer at Luenos, who has been oddly silent this whole time. “You coming?” I ask him.

Without a word, Luenos rises from his seat, letting me feel our obvious height difference as he towers over me, his head almost touching the pod’s ceiling.

I lean to the left, eyeing Vihkir and his wounds. “How can one treat you?” I ask, praying that his blood being red will also lead to compatible treatments we might already own. “Do your people also use disinfectant and antibiotics?”

Vihkir chuckles. He crosses his arms. “We’re long past the disinfectant stage in our culture. We’ve healers now. But.” He takes a few steps toward me. “If you must use such outdated artifacts…then, so be it. I suppose a bit of stinging is worth it if I can avoid a worst-case scenario.”

I walk down the pod’s skinny silver steps. They creak beneath my foot and crutch. “How do you know it stings if you’ve never used it?” I ask him.

Vihkir follows me into the dock. He grins. “We have lessons concerning our ancestors. A lot of my people enjoy making jokes concerning the pain for wounds for better concept. After all, it is such a strange idea.”

“I see…” I blink twice as my eyes adjust to the much brighter, and almost blinding, lights of the ship’s hallways.

However, upon noticing a pair of missing footsteps, I pause and turn around.

Luenos stands awkwardly between a frame far too small for his body.

“Luenos,” I say, “is everything okay?”

Silent, he nods, and I am torn between the worry he might be refusing to speak with me for taking Vihkir in, and the fear I might’ve somehow lost the ability to hear his words.

“I’m going to go to the infirmary with Vihkir,” I try again, hoping he’ll at least answer with a simple yes if not nothing this time. “If… If you’re tired, why don’t you go wait in my quarters?”

But Luenos doesn't reply.

Before long, my back is turned as I walk away with Vihkir, who continues to bombard me with questions on human culture.

My heart sinks.

Have I done something wrong?

Does he hate me now?