+++

After dodging and ducking their way through, between and past all the promenade traffic, the “alien” duo stopped at the last spot they’d glimpsed their guide; a store with a Curly Wurly alien outside and a blank sign on the wall above.

Was it actually a sign [or a store]?

Neither of them had the faintest idea, but they did know that the Curly Wurly alien’s tentacle…or strip of skin…had just peeled off.

‘Dropped off,’ mumbled Salvo.

‘That can’t be normal,’  said Trig.

‘Arm thing, it just…dropped off.’

‘Fuck, they’re not even trying to pick it back up either.’

The Curly Wurly alien noticed them staring all weed eyes, opened the petals on its tulip-like head and shimmered. ‘… … … … … … …’ came out with even more of a whistling sound than its comrade in the Teleport Room.

Salvo backed up behind Trig, faking a cough as she scanned left and right for an escape route. Fortunately, the Russian woman was parked halfway down a narrow passage to the side of the store, waving at them with her non-cup holding hand.

‘Down here,’ said Salvo, tugging Trig’s sleeve.

‘Where?’

‘This way. She’s waving us over.’

Trig let his sleeve be tugged a little harder before giving his legs the order to follow. Five, six metres along, he checked back on the Curly Wurly alien and repeated, ‘that’s not normal,’ when he saw it peeling off a fresh strip of skin and pointing it at him.

Wait, was that a brand new strip or recycled?

Re-grown?

Why was his sleeve still being yanked on?

‘Salvo…’

‘Sorry,’ she said, letting go.

‘You sure this is the right way?’

‘Huh? Yeah, I saw her go down here.’

‘Okay.’

‘At least I think I did.’

Trig made a wyvern-esque breathing noise and nothing beyond that.

The two friends kept moving. From a human perspective, which they couldn’t avoid, the narrow passage seemed to be the alien station equivalent of a back alley, running straight down to another passage at the end, where there were a lot fewer aliens passing by. Doors lined both sides, all closed, lime green cylinder tubes clung to the walls, acting as supplementary lights, one or two stray humanoids were staring blankly at pads…and that was about as much as they could gather before being yelled at in street Russian.

The woman who they’d yet to get the name of was now perched on a redundant step in an open doorway, backlit a little creepily in pale red light from inside. Even creepier was the juxtaposition of her nonchalantly sipping on her drink. Well, not that nonchalant. Her nose bridge was scrunched, probably pissed off that they couldn’t keep up.

‘That coffee must be pretty cold by now,’ Trig whispered into Salvo’s ear, getting a shh in return.

‘… … … … … here.’

‘She wants us to go in.’

‘Obviously.’

‘Do you think it’s safe?’

‘I guess.’

‘Yeah, it must be.’

‘Red light looks a bit creepy but-…yeah, probably safe. I mean…bringing us all this way and then just-…you know, doing something to us. Doesn’t really make sense.’ Trig lifted his right hand to his lips, annoyed when there was no cigarette there. Improvising, he started biting one of his nails instead.

The façade in front of them was larger than the place they’d just stopped at, the one with the curly wurly skin shedder, and had large oval windows on either side. Projected onto the “glass” of one of them was a white symbol that appeared to be the replacement for an actual sign. Of course, it was probably alien in origin, but it looked a little bit like a robot with an umbrella over its head.

‘… … … … time to do … … … ….’ said the Russian woman, turning her back and heading inside.

‘What was that?’ asked Trig, dropping a piece of bitten off nail onto the floor.

‘Not sure.’

‘Something about the red light?’

‘Doubt it.’

‘More I look it…feels a bit giallo. That kind of vibe.’

‘Actually, I think it looks quite comforting.’

‘But then, maybe giallo is a safe thing here. Or comforting. Giallo red.’

‘I think we better go in.’

‘You sure you’re feeling okay?’

‘It’s quieter now. Not so many aliens.’ Salvo took a breath and looked through the doorway. ‘Hopefully not so many in there either.’

‘I’ll go first,’ said Trig, resting his hand on her shoulder for a moment then walking towards the giallo red light, which grew paler the closer he got. A few steps past the entrance, it was barely noticeable at all, serving as regular light to highlight the junction he’d just come to.

‘… … … …’ came some loud Russian from the left.

He’d already starting turning right, so he flipped back and followed the sounds, noticing holographic images buffering on the walls – alien politics? Health? It was impossible to tell –  and then another open door halfway down the passage. In both essence and aesthetics, it reminded him of somewhere he’d hoped it wouldn’t be; the hospital. The only big difference was the fact that the walls weren’t painted green.

Stopping at one of the holographic displays, which were clearer now but still semantically opaque, he searched for signs of disease warnings or medical advice. It may have been there. But the patient was non-human and the written script didn’t translate into anything he’d heard of, so he gave up and kept moving.

Somehow, Salvo had passed ahead of him and when she turned right, he quickly followed in her wake. A little too quickly it turned out, as he bumped into her waist and almost sent the rest of her tumbling onto the floor.

‘You might feel … … … … … …’ said the Russian woman, collecting Salvo’s arm and leading her scientist-like [not nurse-like] to the left.

‘Feel what?’ asked Salvo, trying to absorb the room they’d entered, as well as gulp at what looked like a medical slab propped up on its side directly ahead.

‘Headache,’ replied the woman, simplifying.

‘Why?’

‘Not the … … … … … … things in the room. Very different.’

‘Yeah…it does look quite strange,’ muttered Salvo in Cantonese, glancing back at Trig and making her eyes moon-sized.

Trig may not have understood Russian, or what making your eyes big meant in this specific context, but he had a pretty good idea what they were talking about.

And Salvo was right.

The room was strange. Vertical panels unmoored from the floor, green and red lights cascading across their surfaces, various loose cables and unorthodox machines strewn about the floor, most of them an Earth brown colour which only added to the impression that this room was a tree and these were the roots.

Even the shape of it was odd; a basic curved wall, like a mushroom head, leading three quarters of the way back round to the entrance before jutting outwards into…actually, it was difficult to see what it turned into as there was a thick layer of dark green mist obscuring the view.

An alien version of a cubicle curtain perhaps, leading through to a treatment room?

A gas leak?

Whatever it was, there were strange beeping noises coming from within. Could’ve been a machine, could’ve been alien torture, there was no real way to be certain, so Trig left it behind and followed the de facto leader to the left hand side of the room.

Salvo was being positioned against the vertical slab, while a claw-like apparatus extended out from its top. Not the friendliest of shapes. A restraint perhaps? A brain scraping device?

It stopped an inch or two from Salvo’s head, though she didn’t appear to have noticed it.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked in Cantonese, before realising Trig wasn’t the doctor analogue in the room and translating her question into Russian.

‘Two minutes,’ said the Russian woman, taking two purple balls that were floating in a hole in the nearby wall and attaching them without straps or pins to both sides of Salvo’s neck.

‘What did she say?’ asked Trig, quelling the sudden injection of Phantasm death spheres from his brain.

‘Two minutes.’

‘That’s it?’

Salvo nodded, straining as she tried to shift herself into a more comfortable position.

‘Ask her what those balls are for.’

‘Wait, I can’t move my arms. Or my legs.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Trig, I’m stuck…’

‘They’re completely numb?’

‘I can’t move, it’s too-…’

‘Wait, I’m coming over.’

‘Fuck, my whole body, it’s not working. Trig, get me off of this thing.’

As soon as she’d let out her last word, a red light shot out of the ceiling and fixed itself to Salvo’s forehead. She gazed up at it, trance-like, and as she did so her expression changed almost instantly. As did her comfort level. Job complete, the light reeled itself back up to the ceiling and vanished.

‘What the fuck was that?’ asked Trig, searching for little holes in the surface above, and then in his friend’s forehead.

‘It’s okay,’ said Salvo, slouching her shoulders. ‘I feel better now.’

‘Better? You just had a laser hit your head.’

‘Calmer, more balanced. Yes, a good laser. Very soft and soothing.’

‘What?’

‘I think they’re trying to help us.’

‘Salvo, you sound lobotomized, like a pod person.’ Trig turned on the only other person in the room to turn on. ‘What did you do to her?’ 

‘… … … … … … …’ said the Russian woman, seemingly understanding Trig’s question, the spirit of it at least, and patting him on the triceps.

‘What?’

‘She said you’re next,’ translated Salvo, unaware that the tips of the claw directly above her head were glowing bright green.

‘Next for what? What’s she doing? Why is that claw glowing?’

‘It’s okay, Trig.’

‘What is okay?’

Salvo responded with a groan.

‘Salvo…’

Another groan.

‘Does it hurt? What’s happening?’

Salvo closed her eyes and muttered something about drifting in fluff, followed by more groans. It was unclear if it was something pleasurable being forced upon her or something just mildly painful, and looking round at the décor in the room didn’t help anything.

Random spurts of gas emanated from the walls.

The weird green nebula curtain on the opposite side of the “medical” space continued to send out weird, electronic beeps.

Something resembling a tangled line of earphones with five earpieces of varying sizes whipped itself gradually forward, away from the other cables.

It was all too much for Trig to take in, yet clearly not enough for the ceiling to open up and the red laser to pacify him. What did that mean? On some level, he was placid? Or his curiosity about the room, the station, the aliens went so deep that it overruled his sense of personal threat?

But what about the machine room, the first jaunt through the portal? Salvo had been the calm one then, not him. Or he had been the calm one…the cautious one…and she’d been the bold one. Was that right? He couldn’t remember. Wah, it felt like days ago…the machine monologuing Russian at them, Salvo struggling to keep up, him not even trying, just lying down and taking a nap into happy oblivion.

Wait, Salvo…she wasn’t groaning anymore.

He spun back round, just in time to see his friend stepping out from the vertical bench, itching the sides of her neck where the purple balls had been.

‘Trig…’

‘What is it? What did they do?’

Salvo opened her mouth to respond, but clearly didn’t have the words to describe the procedure so looked to the Russian.

‘… … … … … … … … … …’

‘Ah, re-alignment. That’s what it’s called?’

‘… … …’

‘Re-align what?’ asked Trig, instinctively taking a step back and raising a half-hearted fist at the ceiling as the Russian woman came towards him. ‘Your brain? How do you even know that word?’

‘Don’t be scared,’ said Salvo, still scratching her neck. ‘It’s harmless.’

‘What is?’

‘It just helps your brain to understand all the languages here.’

‘… … … … … … … … …’ added the Russian woman.

‘What?’

‘She said the sooner you get it done, the sooner things can move on.’

Trig heard a whipping noise behind him and looked back. The earphone creature, or machine, was only a metre away from him now, either moving very slowly by natural design or sneaking up on him like a pervert.

Both possibilities were disconcerting so, after moving closer to Salvo and patting down her arms, examining her neck and her forehead, making sure there was no hidden damage, he stepped parallel to the vertical bench, took a deep breath more for performance than need, and allowed the Russian woman to strap him in.

‘… … … … … …?’ she asked, checking his heartbeat.

‘What did she say?’

‘She wants to know if you need the red light.’

‘Nope, not a chance.’

The Russian woman smiled, clearly understanding the tone of Trig’s answer. ‘… … … … … … …’

Trig tilted his neck slightly to face Salvo.

‘She said you’re a model patient.’

‘Really?’

‘Yup.’

‘Cos it sounded kind of like the English word for sociopath.’

Salvo shook her head, and looked elsewhere in the room.

‘Fine, let’s just get this done.’

‘… … … … … …’ said the Russian woman, attaching the purple balls to his neck.

‘Yeah, same to you, Kollontai.’

‘Kollontai?’

‘What?’

Her hand stopped, still on the purple ball. ‘… … … … … … Alexandra Kollontai?’

‘Never mind,’ mumbled Trig, slowly realising the name was Russian and therefore understandable, and he didn’t even know who Kollontai was anyway, he’d just heard Cav mention her a lot, something about betraying furniture in the Swedish embassy.

‘… … … … … …’

‘She said to relax,’ translated Salvo, rubbing her own neck.

‘Yeah.’

+++

Two minutes later, the process was complete.

Was it?

The claw thing had ceased glowing green at least. That had to imply some kind of finality to things. And that’s what had happened with Salvo.

‘All finished,’ confirmed the Russian, removing the purple balls.

Trig stepped away from the vertical slab and itched his neck, vaguely understanding what had just been done.

Salvo was right, the procedure wasn’t painful at all. If anything, it was mildly erotic, as if some microscopic sponges had glided over his frontal lobes and massaged the most overworked of all his neurons. And the balls they used on his neck…it was like a pulsing lullaby toy, sending him half to sleep yet at the same time keeping him attuned to everything being transferred into his head.

Which, apparently, was quite a lot.

Apart from verbal alien language comprehension, he now had a basic knowledge of all alien body types, how they greeted one another, what they considered to be rude, why the earphone creature was moving so slowly towards them.

Ah, not a creature, an intelligent being.

Trig turned and looked down at the earphone cable alien type thing, which was now rubbing one of its earpieces tentatively against his leg. He took a moment to think, visualising the action of checking his internal database, but there was nothing that covered alien-on-human interaction. Could this be a more casual form of greeting? Something individual to this specific alien?

‘You switched on?’ asked the Russian, in Russian, which he could now understand every word of.

‘I’m okay…’

‘Don’t bother answering, I can’t understand you yet.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Come, over here.’ The Russian woman grabbed his sleeve and pulled him across the room towards the green mist curtain, leaving the earphone alien abandoned next to the vertical slab. ‘You can both understand my speech, which is definite progress…not sure how much longer I could’ve put up with the baby Russian shit…but Chinese is not in the station database so we’re gonna need you to fix that before we do anything else. Nod if you understand.’

Trig looked at Salvo, who was already nodding. All the panic from earlier, as well as the pretending-not-to-panic-but-panicking-internally, had dissipated completely, as if the red laser had carved open her emotion lobe and completely obliterated her sense of fear. If such a lobe existed…

‘Good. Now, go through the green mist and stop by the red light that looks like a communications pole. Stay around that area and talk to each other for twenty minutes. Try to vary your topics. Prompts will appear in the mist if you get stuck. Go. And don’t worry, the mist particles are breathable.’

The only valid response was to say ‘what?’ but they’d said that about two hundred times already and even if Salvo did translate it into Russian, the guide would still tell them to shut up and get moving. Probably. Okay, they didn’t know that for sure, but that’s the kind of vibe she gave off.

And that’s pretty much what Trig relayed to Salvo as the mist parted for them and then quickly closed back up again after they’d passed through.

‘She’s just tired, that’s all,’ she replied, running her fingers through the mist and making a soft ‘ahh’ sound. ‘Today was supposed to be routine, but then we turned up and took her away from her book sam.’

‘Her what?’

‘I’m not sure. She said we’d find out later, after this.’

‘That’s what she said?’

‘When your brain was being re-aligned, yeah.’ Salvo paused then launched her fingers forward, attempting and failing to grasp some of the mist particles swirling just off the tip of her nose. ‘Wah, it’s like they’re fireflies or something. Darting away when I try to catch them.’

‘Don’t worry, I don’t think they’re gonna hurt us.’

‘I know, I just wanna catch some of them. Feel their body texture. Hey, is that the red pole thing she was on about?’

Trig followed the trail from Salvo’s eyes to the red pole thing that was suddenly right in front of them. It hadn’t been there five seconds earlier. Perhaps some kind of teleportation triggered by their feet touching a sensor on the floor?

‘We have to touch it, right?’

‘Apparently.’

Salvo put a hand out and slid her knuckles down the side of the pole. Trig watched her without making the slightest attempt to imitate.

‘Well…’ he said, itching his neck again, ‘at least you’re not having a panic attack anymore.’

‘When did I do that?’

‘Before…when the aliens turned up.’

‘Oh, that one.’

‘And outside just now, in the busy area, the promenade.’

Salvo squinted at the base of the red pole for a moment then nodded. ‘Ah, those two.’

Trig laughed, his hand stretching forward and joining hers on the pole. A strange experience. It wasn’t smooth, it wasn’t firm, it wasn’t really anything, yet when they looked at the spot they were touching, they clearly saw something that resembled a solid, red, metallic pole.

‘They weren’t really panic attacks,’ continued Salvo, tongue out, its tip aimed at the green mist, ‘I just didn’t expect aliens to appear. With no legs. And weird red skin. But then the Russian woman turned up and things were better. And then worse again when we teleported to this place. Actually, when I lay it all out like that, it makes sense. Anyone else would’ve followed the same reaction pattern, I think.’

‘Except a sociopath.’

‘Hey, I didn’t say that, it was her.’

‘Right…so she did say it?’

‘But it is a bit weird…like, you did seem more stressed before the aliens turned up. Then they arrived and you were kind of…’

‘…a sociopath.’

‘…like a weirdly calm person suddenly. Well, mostly calm. Apart from one or two moments.’

‘My hand going numb.’

‘Yeah. And just now, before you went on the vertical slab. You were a little bit flustered then…’

‘A bit.’

‘…but not enough to get the red light treatment.’

‘What the hell was that thing anyway?’

‘No idea, but it worked. I really do feel much better now. Maybe cos I can understand things they’re saying…but even this weird green mist stuff…is completely fine. I don’t feel apprehensive at all.’

‘I suppose that’s good.’

‘It’s kind of like a sauna, when you think about it…’

‘A sauna that is absorbing our Cantonese. However that works. Alien tech I guess, like magic to us lowly humans. Maybe magic to them too. How long do we have to stay in here again?’

‘Twenty minutes.’

‘How long have we been in so far?’

‘Don’t know. Five?’

Trig nodded, looking around to see if the green mist was doing anything interesting. Ah, it was, and not just interesting, but visually spectacular too.

About two metres ahead of them, the mist particles had changed into different shades of green and rearranged themselves into a picture.

‘Is that a pig?’ asked Salvo, seeing the same thing.

‘And a human next to it.’

‘You think it’s a farm?’

‘Looks like it.’

‘Maybe this is what she meant by if we get stuck. The mist will draw out a topic for us…based on our memories…or their archives…or something else.’

‘It wants us to talk about pig farming?’

‘I guess so.’

‘Which aspect?’

‘I don’t know. Anything.’

Trig examined the pig image and the cluster of chickens that was being added as they spoke. Okay, farming in general. What did he know about that? Short answer, nothing much.

‘Isn’t this a bit elaborate?’

‘The mist pictures?’

‘I mean, why not just have a tannoy system and tell us what to talk about?’

‘It’s probably their way of doing things.’

‘Maybe. Just seems inefficient to me. Especially when they have a red light that can instantly soothe someone, purple balls that can realign your brain to understand alien languages, a teleporter to…teleport stuff…and then this. Green mist particles playing primary school charades.’

‘I like it.’ Salvo took her hand away from the red pole to scratch her neck, but it didn’t get that far – an invisible gust of hurricane-strength wind blew it back onto the pole. ‘Wah…my hand…’

‘What?’

‘Something pulled it back. Onto the pole.’

‘You mean the mist?’

‘I think so.’

‘Must be their way of telling us to hurry up.’

Salvo laughed. ‘And talk about farming.’

‘Great.’

‘You wanna start?’

‘Wait…the picture.’ Trig pointed at the green mist canvas, which was busy forming itself into something new.

It didn’t take long.

A few more seconds, and they were looking at an incredibly detailed portrait of a werewolf dressed in eighteenth century garb.

‘Where did they get that from?’

‘You,’ answered Salvo without taking a breath. ‘Obviously.’

‘I wasn’t thinking about werewolves.’

‘At some point you were. In your life.’

‘I wasn’t…’

‘Trig…’

‘I don’t even like werewolf movies.’

‘Well, it’s not me.’

Trig tried to let go of the pole to gesture at the werewolf image, but was instantly shoved back onto it. Instead, he prodded his head towards it and complained, ‘I have nothing to say about them.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Nope.’

The green mist didn’t like this answer, as more particles swarmed over to the werewolf image and enlarged it by about seventy per cent.

‘Care to rethink that?’ asked Salvo, smirking.

+++

After going through a very small list of basic werewolf facts, and another five topics beyond that, the red pole descended into the floor and the green mist started nudging them towards the direction they’d come in from.

It wasn’t aggressive nudging, but it was insistent, and soon enough they were back in the main language-giving room – or whatever it was called – being asked by the Russian woman if they were fully switched on.

‘What?’ asked Trig, looking back at the green mist curtain as if he’d forgotten to close something or press a button to turn it off.

‘Are you fully aware of things?’

‘We’re okay.’

‘Of course you’re okay, we’re not barbarians.’ The Russian woman gestured towards the earpiece alien, which was already crawling over to Trig’s leg for a second greeting. ‘What I’m asking is, are you aware of what is going on here?’

‘Generally, yes. I think so.’ He looked at Salvo, who seemed equally confused. ‘Sorry, what’s the question?’

‘Okay, let me put it in a series of objective statements. One, this station is full of aliens.’

‘We know that,’ said Salvo, adding a redundant nod.

‘Two, those aliens can now understand you when you speak. You can understand them when they speak.’

‘Yeah, that’s what the green mist was for right?’ added Trig, half waving at the earphone alien wrapping around his calf. ‘You wanted us to speak Cantonese for you so you could add it to your computer database.’

‘Okay, good. You’re better than the last accidentals at least…’

‘The who?’

‘Had to use the purple light on them. Poor bastards.’

‘Purple?’

‘Doesn’t matter. The important thing is…you don’t need it. In fact, your attitude towards the discovery of alien life is quite lax. Surprising really.’

‘The red light helped,’ said Salvo, looking affectionately up towards the ceiling.

‘Yes, for you, not him.’

‘There’s no reason to be scared of aliens,’ said Trig, trying a smile at the earphone creature snaking around his leg. ‘I knew they’d be friendly.’

‘Ha, that’s a bit simplistic.’

‘I mean, overall.’

‘Am I friendly?’

‘Err…mostly. But you’re human.’

‘Nope.’

‘You’re not?’

‘I’m from the Terzo Collective, very far from your solar system.’

‘Terzo?’

‘You look human.’

‘Hmm, that’s a depressing thing to hear.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ll get to all that later.’ She pointed downwards, at Trig’s leg. ‘What about that one? Are they friendly?’

Trig followed her finger. The earpiece alien was moving from one side of his calf to the other, almost like a sawing motion, but there was no sensation of pain or even ill intent from the alien. Not that Trig could interpret anyway.

‘I don’t know. I guess it’s saying hello…’

‘A bit more than that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re Chinese, so I’ll be blunt. It’s getting off on your leg.’

‘Getting what off?’

The Russian woman looked at Salvo as if she were Trig’s carer. ‘Can you explain it to him?’

‘You mean…’ Trig froze then shook his leg violently. It was relatively good timing as the earpiece alien had gone limp a second earlier, making it easy to shrug them off.

‘That’s disgusting,’ said Salvo, darting to the side as the earpiece alien landed near her feet.

‘Give it a week, you’ll be doing the same.’

Both Trig and Salvo stared at each other blankly, genuinely puzzled.

‘Meaning you’ll be getting Eee-To there to wrap around your erogenous parts, or slide inside you, whatever gets the job done. Personally, I prefer holograms, but everyone’s different.’

‘That thing…Eee-to…just wanked itself off on my leg,’ said Trig, half a question, half a realisation.

‘Sure, they’ve done it to half the humanoids on this station. Legs are erotic to them. Especially the calves. And as it’s meaningless to us, there’s no harm.’

‘No harm…’

‘Like a dog humping your leg, it’s kind of funny, and maybe you’d kick it off, but with Eee-To there’s no excess fluids to worry about, and they’re not mammals so the psychological-physiological connection isn’t there either.’

‘No connection?’

‘I’m no legal expert, but it sounds like sexual assault to me,’ added Salvo, a little more calmly than Trig could manage.

‘Not on this station.’

‘But…it masturbated on his leg…had sex with it…whatever you call it.’

‘It violated me,’ corrected Trig, taking off his shoe and rubbing the offended area with its vamp.

The Russian woman pulled a padd out from somewhere inside her jacket and swiped at the screen. ‘Look, this is going to get tedious very fast, so why don’t we just move over to the Enrolment Centre? Get you set up with a hologram.’

‘A what?’

‘Your personal guide. Someone trained to deal with the barrage of questions you’re about to hit me with that I have no patience to deal with.’

‘And that’s a hologram?’ asked Trig, putting his shoe back on.

‘Sure, what else would it be?’

‘Wait,’ interrupted Salvo, physically holding out her hand like a stop sign. Probably a little too over-dramatic, but she didn’t appear to care. ‘Our friend who came here, before us. Can you check where he is?’

‘What friend?’

‘His name’s Cav, he came through the portal a few hours ahead of us, but we don’t-…’

‘Ah, cut, cut, don’t give me the whole story. The hologram can tell you. Hopefully before Eee-To starts wanking on your leg again. Come on.’

Trig  looked down at the floor and shuddered. The earphone creature…Eee-To…was still in an inert state, probably recovering from whatever version of an orgasm it had just given itself.

‘Ah, don’t be so resentful,’ added the Russian woman, catching Trig’s expression. ‘Most aliens will request consent before doing anything like that. I guess Eee-To just got a bit carried away.’

‘With sexual assault,’ replied Trig, giving his calf one final wipe against the wall.

‘Now, about that hologram.’