Within minutes of being introduced to the group, Cora regretted it immensely. They were all from the United States, like her, of approximately the same age, but likely from different states.
And most of them scrambled backwards when she walked in. A conversation containing distinct accents tapered off as the door shut.
Cora huffed, taking a seat.
A woman with curly, dark hair spoke up, her accent unfamiliar. "What did they
do
to you?"
Cora resisted the urge to cross her arms as she surveyed the four others before her. There were some scars, some bruises, but none of them looked like her.
"From the looks of things,
not
what they did to y'all."
Two more women entered the smaller room, stopping short when they saw Cora. "Holy shit."
There were only two young men in the group, one of them motioning sharply at the woman who spoke. "Shh. Quit it."
"What? You're fucking scary looking."
Cora scrunched her nose, trying to stop herself from glaring. "Super helpful. Thanks. It's not like I want to go back to Earth anyway." From the way they stood, none of them were particularly familiar with each other.
One of the women, a brunette with a low bun, was especially shocked at this. "Why wouldn't you want to go back?"
Giving her a long, dry look, Cora weighed the pros and cons of telling the truth. "Ugh. Fine." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. "I have a family out here. A life. And kids."
Cora had prepared herself for many reactions, but not the one she got.
The woman reeled back, making a disgusted cry. "You let them- you- oh, ew!"
No, Cora. Don't engage.
"Unlike whatever they took you for,
that's
what I was taken for. They changed me down to my DNA. But the crewmembers weren't willing to see it through, and risked their lives to get me out of there."
Her expression didn't change. "And now you're some alien sex toy. With Stockholm Syndrome."
Cora's blood pressure spiked. She could imagine it. She could imagine the consequences of losing her temper. Staying in her seat, she closed her eyes. "Stockholm Syndrome isn't real. It's just an urban myth like... like MSG causing headaches."
"MSG
does
give people migraines. Everyone knows that. But that doesn't matter. Are you pregnant right now? You gonna bring one of those freak babies back to Earth?"
Cora opened one eye, looking at the others. They'd started to shrink back. "Just leave me alone."
"You might not care about your health anymore, but I do. They've done something horrible to your mind. Don't worry. They'll fix you, they'll make you normal again, and if those fucking freaks put something inside you, they'll get rid of it."
I'll get rid of you.
Cora stood quickly.
Ah, nope, time to stop. Stop it.
"Are there quarters here? Is there somewhere I can go and
not
get... whatever the fuck she's doing right now? I just want to rest."
One of the other women moved to speak, but stopped herself. The man standing next to her had a patchy buzzcut and similar sweatpants. He looked over, then sighed. "Come on, I'll show you. And quit running your mouth. That motherfucker at the door won't save your life if you piss this chick off. You see them teeth?
I
wouldn't."
Cora staunchly refused to look around as she left the room. The man, who introduced himself as Kevin, led her to an empty room. There was a pallet on the floor, freshly rolled out blankets and even a pillow. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it." The door shut behind her.
How long had it been since Cora slept alone?
She didn't want to think about it.
Maybe I can stay in here until we get there.
She wasn't sure how long she slept for, but it was long enough that she'd got a crick in her neck. Someone was knocking.
"Yes?"
"They brought food." The woman from before opened the door and came in, carrying a plate. Successfully keeping her face scowl-free, Cora accepted the plate. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." The woman sat on the edge of Cora's pallet.
"If you're gonna talk to me like you were earlier, please just don't. I'm already going through enough."
She sniffed. "I can tell. You've even got a tail now."
Cora inspected the food. A hard, dry biscuit, and what was definitely cream of chicken that'd just been poured out. She tested it. Ice cold.
Oh, well. Food is food.
She began to eat, trying to ignore the woman's stare.
She's just trying to help. She's been through a lot, too.
"You know, you have to give up on what you had out here."
"Hm?" Cora looked up, chewing on the galaxy's driest biscuit.
Maybe they got Popeye's out here.
"What do you mean?"
"You don't
belong
out there. You can find a nice man, or, uh, lady, someone on Earth, especially once you get that tail removed. It'll all get better."
Cora swallowed, trying not to choke.
They made this biscuit out of plaster, I know it.
"I know that's what you want for yourself, and I'm sure you'll all be able to live wonderful lives. But that's not for me. I was happy. When we get there, I'll be heading down to a base in South America, and hopping on a flight back to my family."
She shook her head, pity and fear apparent on her face. "Babe, no. They don't love you. You're not one of them."
"You don't have a clue."
The woman shook her head again, this time harder. "Look, I'll tell them when we get there. They're gonna help you."
"Who is 'they'?"
"The United States Government," she said.
Cora tried not to laugh, coughing instead. "Like, the whole government? Or just that one person in NASA that worries about space bacteria?"
"No, there's a whole department. They let us speak with them earlier. They'll make sure we're okay and healthy, and then help us restart our lives."
"Oh." Cora feigned pleasant surprise. "They could help me?"
She nodded. "I see how you're carrying yourself, and how you reacted when I said earlier that you're probably pregnant. It's okay. They'll help."
And when you say help, you mean kill it. Study it, put it in formaldehyde. I'd rather eat glass.
Cora had reached a level of anger that scared her. She stood, resting the plastic spork on her plate. "I'm surprised they let you come talk to me. That guy was really worried for your safety."
She drew herself up. "I don't need anyone worried about my safety. And I told them I was going for a walk."
Cora nodded, slowly. "A walk could be good. Do they come collect the trash when we're done eating?"
"Yeah, but the guy that does it
hates
doing it. He's always saying something under his breath and glaring at us."
The words tumbled forth, her heart pounding. "That's a Foshar for you. I think they're always in a bad mood because they don't have any eyebrows. Want to walk with me back to the garbage disposal? I'd rather avoid dealing with them more than I have to. They already
