Oh No, I Shot A Spaceship And Kissed An Alien Cyberchef (At The Alien Hotel #3)

Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

LAURA

I balance the elaborate dish carefully as I navigate the hotel’s winding corridors. My arms ache from the weight of the ornate platter, but I refuse to let it show. After all the fuss Nelan made over this Gral-whatever, the last thing I need is to trip and spill alien tentacles all over the floor.

My mind wanders as I walk, replaying the kiss with Nelan over and over. The warmth of his lips, the strength of his arms around me... I shake my head, trying to dispel the memory. Now is not the time to get distracted by complicated feelings for stubborn alien chefs. Besides, with my luck, I’d probably end up burning my tongue on his spicy alien cooking.

As I approach the General’s suite, voices drift through the partially open door. I slow my steps, straining to hear. Eavesdropping: because sometimes being nosy is less dangerous than being clueless. Or so I tell myself.

“... cannot continue like this, Your Highness,” a deep, authoritative voice rumbles. It must belong to the General. “The situation on Latium grows more unstable by the day. ”

I freeze, my heart pounding. I shouldn’t be hearing this. But curiosity gets the better of me, and I inch closer, careful not to make a sound. I’m basically a ninja now, if ninjas carried precarious platters of alien cuisine and had a tendency to trip over their own feet.

“I understand your concerns, General Karzak,” Rist’s familiar voice replies, sounding weary. “But I’ve told you, I have no desire to return.”

“With all due respect, sir, your desires are irrelevant in the face of our people’s needs,” the General counters. “Your brother’s reign has become increasingly tyrannical. The people suffer while he indulges in ever more extravagant luxuries.”

I lean in closer, barely daring to breathe. What exactly is going on here?

“And you believe my return would magically solve everything?” Rist asks, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. “Need I remind you how spectacularly our last attempt failed?”

There’s a heavy pause before the General speaks again, his voice lowered. “This time would be different. We have more support, better intelligence. The military is on our side now.”

“You’re talking about a coup,” Rist says flatly.

My eyes widen. A coup? As in, overthrowing a government? I knew Rist was some kind of exiled prince, but I had no idea things were this serious.

“I’m talking about restoring Latium to its former glory,” General Karzak insists. “About giving our people the leader they deserve. You, Your Highness.”

“And if I refuse?” Rist asks.

The General’s response is immediate and cold. “Then I fear for the future of our world. Your brother grows more paranoid by the day. There are whispers of mass arrests, of dissenters disappearing in the night. How long before he turns on your supporters here? On your friends?”

A chill runs down my spine. Are we in danger? Is that why everyone’s been so on edge about the General’s visit?

No, I can’t let myself spiral like this. I grit my teeth. No. I’m more than what he said I was. I have to be. Everyone is counting on me.

“The longer you hide here, playing hotelier to aliens and refugees, the worse things become at home.”

I bristle at his dismissive tone. We may be aliens and refugees, but this hotel has become a home for many of us. A safe haven.

“I need time to think,” Rist says finally. “This isn’t a decision to be made lightly.”

“Of course, Your Highness. But please, don’t take too long. Our window of opportunity grows smaller with each passing day.”

Realizing the conversation is winding down, I quickly straighten up and raise my hand to knock. Before my knuckles can make contact, the door swings open fully.

I find myself face to face with the imposing figure of General Karzak. He towers over me, his crimson skin a shade darker than Rist’s. Somehow the black of his eyes flares in the low light, looking just like how a cat’s might. Predator, my primitive human brain supplies. Goosebumps prickle my skin as I realize just how much danger I might be in all of a sudden for overhearing things that shouldn’t have even been said.

Seriously, if you’re going to have a private conversation, close the damn door! What is this, amateur hour at the alien conspiracy club?

“I... uh... dinner!” I stammer, thrusting the platter forward like a shield. Smooth, Laura. Really smooth. I might as well have yelled “Look, a distraction!” and tried to run away.

The General’s eyes narrow, and for a heart-stopping moment, I wonder if he knows I was eavesdropping. But then his gaze drops to the elaborately arranged meal, and his expression softens slightly. He raises a hand and taps one of his highly polished horns. For the first time, I notice they are adorned with intricate metalwork, engraved swirls and… is that a couple of gems? Is this guy just putting priceless jewelry on his head? I really hope they are fake, cause they look seriously tacky.

The General steps aside to let me enter. “It appears our discussion will have to wait, Your Highness. Duty calls, in the form of... what is this delightful aroma?”

I move into the room, grateful for the distraction. “It’s, um, Gral’thok Shu’vari, sir. At least, that’s what the chef called it. I just helped with the chopping and plating.”

Rist raises an eyebrow, looking impressed. “Gral’thok Shu’vari? That’s quite an ambitious dish. I’m surprised Nelan remembered how to prepare it without his precious NutriSynth.”

“Indeed,” General Karzak agrees, leaning in to inspect the plate as I set it on the ornate dining table. “It’s been years since I’ve had a properly prepared meal of this caliber. The presentation is always... unconventional, but intriguing.”

I bite back a snort, remembering Nelan’s obsessive fussing over the placement of each tentacle. If this is “unconventional,” I’d hate to see what passes for normal in Volscian cuisine.

“I hope it meets your expectations, sir,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. It’s hard to look at the General now, knowing what I’ve overheard. Does he see me as just another alien refugee, unworthy of this planet? Of Rist’s protection? Am I like the garnish on this dish – decorative, but ultimately disposable?

The General picks up a utensil – something that looks like a cross between a fork and a pair of tweezers – and delicately lifts a piece of tentacle to his mouth. As he chews, his eyes widen slightly.

“Just as remarkable as I remember,” he says after swallowing. “Please convey my compliments to your chef. This is easily the finest Gral’thok Shu’vari I’ve tasted outside of the royal kitchens.”

A wave of pride washes over me, quickly followed by confusion. Why do I care so much about this stuffy General’s opinion? Because it validates Nelan’s hard work, a small voice in my head whispers. Because you want him to be right, to be as skilled as he claims.

I push the thoughts aside, focusing on maintaining a professional demeanor. “I’m glad you enjoy it, sir. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you,” Rist says curtly, before the General even has a chance to reply. “That will be all for now.”

I almost balk at the way Rist gave his clear dismissal. I’m so accustomed to him being soft and sweet, despite his imposing physical size and form. The way he talks now… it’s every inch the uncaring politician.

I nod, backing towards the door. As I turn to leave, I catch a glimpse of Rist’s face. He looks troubled, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a furrowed brow and tight lips. Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and I see a flicker of... something. Worry? Guilt? Before I can decipher it, he turns away.

“Good night, sirs,” I manage to say before slipping out of the room.

As soon as the door closes behind me, I lean against the wall, my heart racing. What have I just stumbled into? Political intrigue? An impending coup? It’s like something out of one of Charlotte’s mystery novels, except this is terrifyingly real. And sadly lacking in a dashing detective with a magnifying glass and a penchant for dramatic reveals.

I push off the wall and start walking, my feet carrying me aimlessly through the hotel’s corridors as my mind whirls. Should I tell someone what I’ve overheard? But who? Elana might know what to do – she’s got experience with this kind of high-stakes situation. Or maybe Sutek, given his past as an assassin.

Oh god, what if Sutek decides he’s got to kill the guy?! I don’t want that kind of drama and guilt weighing on my shoulders. I’ve already got enough baggage to fill a small spaceship.

But what if not telling puts my friends in danger? The General’s words echo in my head: “How long before he turns on your supporters here? On your friends?”

Are we already in danger just by associating with Rist? Have I been naive, thinking this hotel was truly a safe haven after everything we’ve been through?

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice where I’m going until I nearly collide with a familiar figure.

“Whoa there!” Nelan’s hands shoot out to steady me, gripping my shoulders. “Laura? Are you alright?”

I blink, focusing on his face. He looks concerned, his dark eyes searching mine. For a moment, I forget everything – the overheard conversation, the political intrigue, even my own conflicted feelings. All I can think about is how much I want to lean into him, to let him hold me and tell me everything will be okay.

I’m so wrapped up and confused, that my brain practically short-circuits like the malfunctioning NutriSynth. I’m just running on instinct, and right now my very soul thrums for Nelan.

For once in my life, I don’t deny myself. After all, when the world’s going crazy, sometimes you just need to grab onto something – or someone – solid. And if that someone happens to be a stubborn, talented, infuriatingly handsome alien chef? Well, there are worse ways to face a crisis.