Chapter 11: Pulped food

Aurora sighed and laid her head down on her up-drawn knees. Her shoulders shook, and she laughed – loud, hysterical laughter that bounced off the walls, like echoes of screams against stone cliffs. Never in a million years would she have thought she'd end up on a spaceship with an alien who thought he could shake her soul loose, an alien who expected her to give him one. She shivered and tightened her arms around her legs. Maybe she could say abracadabra, wave her arms around, then convince him she could see a soul in his eyes.

The door opened, and he walked in balancing two plates of food on his palms. Even walking and carrying two plates, he managed to look dangerous, competent, like a soldier. He came and sat down on the floor opposite her, his movements surprisingly graceful. His uniform stretched tight over his wide shoulders. Balthazar handed her one of the plates.

She took the plate and balanced it on her knee. "Thank you."