The ship touches down relatively gently—by my standards, at least. The Princess, however, doesn’t seem to appreciate the landing quite as much. She mutters something under her breath, her ears twitching. The translator fails to pick it up, which I can only assume means it’s some kind of exotic Xilthari profanity, untranslatable to outsiders.

So Xilthari ships must be even more advanced than this one. Or maybe she’s just used to flying in la crème de la crème, as the Canadians would say.

We’ve landed in what looks like a military base—vast open fields, rows of ships neatly arranged, uniformed personnel moving with precision. The ground is covered in fine orange dust, but beneath it, there’s a layer of solid cement. I didn’t see much of the surrounding environment on the way down; the slaver's ship didn’t exactly offer the best panoramic views.

A squad of Xilthari soldiers awaits us outside, all clad in orange uniforms. Their fur is also various shades of orange—fascinating. Genetic uniformity? Selective breeding? Coincidence? Questions for later.

There’s no need for introductions. Vira had already explained the situation over comms. The two Verni slavers are swiftly taken into custody, dragged away without ceremony. Goodbye Roy and Derek. Considers yourselves lucky, truly. If it were to me, your brains would’ve been scattered around your ship long ago. The former captives, meanwhile, are escorted onto another ship.

I watch them go, Vira notices my gaze.

“They’ll be taken to the hospital for a checkup,” she explains, “then arrangements will be made to return them to their home planets. They're safe, don't worry.”

I wasn't looking at them, in truth. I’m more interested in the ship they’re boarding rather than their destination. Xo-Ran-Ti lifts a tentacle in what I assume is a wave. I still feel that familiar twinge of disgust when I look at him, but I nod in acknowledgment. The entrance to the ship closes behind him. This will be the last time I ever see him, hopefully.

I must admit, he did well—for someone in his position.

The Xilthari ships are simple in design—elongated cubes with rounded edges. I was going to say parallelepipeds, but I doubt you’d know that word. What intrigues me most is their propulsion system. There’s no visible thruster, no obvious means of lift, yet when one of the ships departs, it barely kicks up any dust. Some kind of gravity manipulation? I need to know more.

“So, what about me?” I ask casually. “Will I be taken back to my home planet, too?”

“Of course,” Vira replies. “But first, my father would like to meet you. He wants to thank you personally—and reward you.”

Now, this I can get behind. My return home can wait a few hours after all.

The ship we’re directed into is small, designed for a crew of six—me, Vira, two pilots, and two guards. Its interior is just as minimalistic as the exterior, the walls resembling smooth sandstone, as if the entire vessel were carved from a single rock and given the ability to fly through pure magic. Of course, the technology must be hidden beneath the surface. Still, I notice the controls remain physical buttons—quaint.

I shift in my seat, struggling slightly with the fit. It’s too tight for me. Across from me, one of the guards sneaks a glance in my direction, trying to be subtle but failing miserably. To him, I must be massive. I haven’t seen a single Xilthari over 170 centimeters tall (5'7), and these are military personnel—likely chosen for their more imposing stature. Yet even among them, I see no real bulk, no intimidating presence. They’re more akin to housecats or cheetahs than tigers.

The guard keeps staring, cautious, curious. Perhaps word of my actions is spreading. The Verni, after all, have a reputation for being formidable in hand-to-hand combat, or so Tal-Vira told me. If I took them down, what does that make me?

Maybe they’ll even give me a medal for bravery, when I return home. The first human to kill a dangerous alien species. In self-defense, of course...

When we finally land and exit the ship, I have to quickly regain my composure. Can’t let them see I’m impressed. But it’s hard not to be.

We’re standing atop a massive pyramid-shaped structure, overlooking an expansive city below. The architecture is simple but aesthetically pleasing—buildings of sandstone and other materials stretch into the distance, even from our elevated vantage point. The sun is harsh, the air dry. Vegetation is sparse, but I spot shrubs and palm-like trees scattered throughout. A few ships glide through the sky above, casting shadows over the city.

We proceed inside, passing through colossal hallways with ceilings soaring at least twenty meters high. I maintain a straight face, but I am quite impressed.

Servants bow their heads as we walk, offering silent respect to the princess. Eventually, a rotund, black-furred Xilthari approaches us—first at a leisurely pace, then breaking into a run. He envelops Tal-Vira in a tight embrace, thanking whatever gods he worships for her return. Alright, that’s sweet. Now, what about me?

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He releases her and turns his attention to me, with Vira watching closely. Time for first impressions, it seems.

The King grasps my hand in both of his, lowering his head in a gesture of respect.

“Great Skies Above, you really are as huge as they said!” he exclaims, wide-eyed.

I am indeed.

“Well, I’m only slightly above average for my species,” I reply with a laugh. Not quite the truth—but it’s better if they think all humans are as imposing as I am.

“But of course, where are my manners?” He straightens up. “Introductions are in order. I am Tal-Vira’s father, King Ranni-Tal. But please, call me Tal.”

I note the naming convention—Ranni-Tal, Tal-Vira. So her children will be Vira-something? Amusing.

“I’m Jonathan—”

“Trent! Of course! My daughter has told me all about you.”

His enthusiasm takes me by surprise, but I don’t mind. Even on a distant planet, my reputation precedes me. And if Vira has been speaking so highly of me, it seems I’ve made quite an impression. Just as planned.

“We have much to discuss, young... human, correct? But not now! You must be exhausted. Go, change into something more comfortable! If I have to see my daughter in that prisoner uniform for one more minute...” His voice rises with anger at the end—a protective father. Good. That makes him all the more indebted to me.

I have been in these clothes for a couple of days at least. A bath sounds very appealing right about now.

Several more Xilthari appear, their fur colors varying widely. It seems only the military adheres to a strict fur code. I part ways with Tal-Vira and Ranni-Tal, but not before he arranges a dinner for later. I’m curious to see what Xilthari cuisine has to offer.

A servant leads me to my quarters. The room is minimalist like the rest of the palace, but the bed is comfortably large. I undress and step into the bathroom—which, to my surprise, is even bigger than the bedroom itself. A massive bathtub, nearly double the size of the bed, sits beneath an artificial waterfall cascading from the wall.

I sink into the water, letting its warmth envelop me. I close my eyes and rest my head back.

This isn’t bad at all.

I’m left to sit around naked for the next few hours. A bit of a nuisance, really. I had hoped to explore the palace, but apparently, there are no clothes here that would fit my... unique dimensions. Being taller than most of the Xilthari has its drawbacks.

A servant eventually informs me that the king has sent for three tailors to come to the palace, tasked with crafting clothing for me as quickly as possible. At last, someone understands how I should be treated.

When they finally arrive with the garments, I can immediately tell the quality is exceptional. Silk? Well, space silk, I assume. It’s smooth and cool against my skin—perfect for a desert climate like this.

That said, I’m not entirely thrilled with how it looks on me. Granted, I can make almost anything look at least decent, but this tunic-like attire isn’t quite my style of choice. Of course, it’s exactly what I expected, given the robes everyone at the palace has been wearing so far, but still.

I take a moment to look at myself in the mirror. I look like a Roman senator. An Emperor, even. Ave Jonathan. I like the sounds of it. Perhaps this outfit is growing on me after all..

No shoes though. It would seem I am to remain barefooted, once again.

As the servant leads me toward the dining hall, I take the opportunity to look around. The hallways are vast and sparsely furnished. Yellowish sandstone seems to be the main material in use throughout the palace. The few decorations there are include a couple of vases with succulent plants and some occasional rocks that I can only assume are crude attempts at art. I notice the servant Xilthari glancing down at my feet from time to time. Weird, but I suppose we all have our kinks.

The dining hall itself is just as grand as I imagined. The table could easily accommodate a hundred people. But, for now, it's only me, the king, and the princess, along with a dozen or so servants and guards—but I pay them no attention. The king gestures for me to sit beside him, and I do as instructed.

“I apologize for the delay! We had to take exceptional measures to get your clothing ready,” Ranni-Tal says.

He’s wearing a different outfit now—dark red robes that sit perfectly on his black fur. If he were taller, and perhaps a little less round, he’d look downright imposing.

As for Tal-Vira, she’s changed too. Her body seems even more slender in the light, flowing clothes she’s wearing. She looks stylish—dark green suits her, I guess.

“These garments are impressive, King Ranni-Tal,” I say, “Or should I call you ‘Your Highness’?”

I need to butter him up, but not too much.

He chuckles and waves his hand dismissively. “Please, no need for that. I owe you more than you can imagine, my friend.”

My pupils dilate for a moment. The King owes me. My arm hair stands on end. I am getting excited. Oh no. I hope they don’t notice that. I need to regain control quickly.

The princess’s voice pulls me back into the moment.

“I am forever in your debt, Jonathan Trent. If it weren’t for you…”

Yes, yes, I’ve heard this part already. Let’s get to the point.

“No need to say more,” I interrupt smoothly. “I only did what anyone else would have done.” They both smile, pleased. How humble of me, I imagine they’re thinking.

“And as comfortable as I might be as your guest,” I continue, “I do long for home, and.. and for my family…”

The king’s eyes soften. I’ve struck a chord. He’s empathizing with me—he’s already shown how much he cares for his daughter, so mentioning my family was a good move.

He speaks again. “Of course. I am afraid, not one of my men has heard of your ‘Earth,’ but I’m sure if you provide the coordinates, we’ll be able to send you on your way as soon as possible. Until then… you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

Comforting, but there’s a problem.

“As embarrassing as it is,” I say, “I must admit that I don’t know the coordinates of my planet. My ship was lost, and I didn’t memorize them. Though I’m confident I can describe my star system in detail if that would help.”

Tal-Vira looks satisfied. “That will be more than enough information.”

I smile. Victory is within reach.

I hear it now—the crowd, chanting my name. David Letterman asks me a question. I make a joke, and everyone laughs. They laugh very hard. And clap, too. The people at home-

The servants enter the room, bringing plates of food. I shall fantasize later.

We begin to eat. The food is... unremarkable, though not in a bad way. It’s carefully cooked, and I can tell the Xilthari take great pride in their cuisine. But the flavors are familiar enough that I feel like I could have had the same meal back home, though without the same exotic feel.

There are no vegetables—just a carnivorous feast. I don’t mind.