Alex thrusts her body back from the viewing window, launching herself over to Solitude’s computer console. She slams into the wall above the console and scrabbles to find the support handle.

Thrusters. Turn on the thrusters, Alex!

If the thrusters can be activated, Alex figures they might burn off whatever has stuck onto the pod. She jerks her hand back from the console with a shocked cry as another tentacle phases straight through the pod’s walls. Several more tentacles join it, and Alex kicks away from the console to the farthest point in the pod she can get to. Grabbing the nearest support handle, Alex witnesses the emergence of a collection of ropy, glowing tendrils with those same color-emitting orbs at each of their tips. Blue and green lights rapidly clash against the pod’s lightbulbs, reflecting off the walls and into Alex’s wide eyes.

At the center of the tendrils is an alien. A glowing core of light, changing colors from deep purple to bright aquamarine, lies inside a “body” of translucent “skin”. The alien is several inches taller than Alex, which she realizes when it fully phases into the pod and appears to harden its body into a more solid state. Up at its upper points, where a human “head” would be, two perfect spheres materialize on smooth amorphous material. These spheres match the colors of the alien’s core, changing at the same time as that other part of it.

There are more tendrils attached to the alien than Alex can count. When she tries to, the flashing lights of the orbs distract her, and she loses count. She chooses to discard this when the alien turns to look straight at her. Under its strange gaze, Alex feels her limbs start to grow limp. She is unable to will her eyes any more closed than halfway.

A pulse spreads through Alex’s body. It is not human in design, because she can feel it leave tingling sensations in her muscles. She squeezes her hand around the support handle, and then pulls on it to draw her body to that one spot.

Another pulse passes through Alex. Her eyes see purple, blue, and green lights on the walls around her. The viewing window bounces these lights back into her eyes, the light inside so bright it blocks out the darker exterior from view. Alex grips the handle tighter, trying to not let go. If she starts floating towards the alien, it will catch her in those tentacles. Then, she will certainly die.

Alex looks at the reflection in the viewing window. She sees herself, breathing heavily and bobbing around the viewing handle like a pool toy. She sees the alien, standing by the computer console with its tendrils waving about but its body and inner core not floating around aimlessly. This creature seems to have better coordination and control of itself in zero gravity than humans. The two orbs on its face—a replica of human “eyes”, Alex figures—still look at Alex’s reflected image.

“Don’t… Don’t kill me.” Alex hates how weak and frightened her voice sounds. “Don’t eat me. Don’t hurt me.” Her words carry through the pod; her demands are simple, driven by the desperate need to remain alive, human, and sane.

The alien’s core rapidly changes color. Its tendrils extend further, the orbs moving to face different directions in front of the creature. The tendrils then emit beams of light onto various parts of the pod’s walls and floor. Despite her conscious wish to not be tricked by alien lights, Alex tries to look at them. The window’s reflection shows the orbs making beams of light, and the alien’s core pulses more of those energy-draining waves.

Alex cannot see the alien’s pulses, but she feels each one. They weaken her grip on the handle, and as they keep happening Alex realizes they are doing something else. She feels more relaxed than before; looking at this creature no longer terrifies her.

“You--?” Alex swallows and tries to breathe slowly. There is no sense in panicking in the only space keeping herself from a violent death. “You won’t hurt me?”

The alien brings two tentacles closer to Alex’s position. Through the window’s reflection, Alex sees those orbs slowly increase their brightness for a few seconds before returning to their previous level of light.

“You won’t trick me?” Alex’s voice is clearer now. She feels more confident in speaking to this extraterrestrial life form.

The two orbs glow, and dim, as before. An answer, Alex figures, indicating agreement. That is a good sign.

“W-Why are you here?”

The alien bobs and moves its tentacles to replicate something being turned around. Alex stares, confused, as the alien repeats the gesture a few times. Then, in a flash of clarity, Alex understands what she is being asked to do. She sniffles and brushes her hair away from her eyes. The orbs dim even further, creating a mixture of dark colors replicating seawater and the darker shades of a cosmic nebula.

The alien wants Alex to turn around. It must want her to see these lights with her own eyes. No reflections to block out the effects. It won’t say why it is here until that happens.

Alex considers her options. She has nowhere to go and hide. She has no weapons beyond her own fists, hands, and teeth. The alien inside the pod with her can travel through solid objects and produce colorful lights. The alien appears to communicate using these lights, and it wants to “talk” to Alex face-to-face.

Alex sees only one choice here that will let her stay alive.

The trooper’s heartbeat burns as she slowly turns her body around to look at the alien. Her hands stay behind her, clutching the handle so she does not float in a random direction. As Solitude continues its orbiting, Alex vaguely recollects there has been no alert from the computer since the alien arrived.

The alien’s tentacles extend out again and project beams of color onto the walls, ceiling, and floor of the pod. Alex widens her eyes to try to track as many of these beams as possible. She sees the beams show images and detailed shapes. There are multiple copies of the creature before her, each pointing to itself. It is an indicator of the creature recognizing itself; Alex knows humans do the same thing in conversations.

The orbs all flash again. This time, the images all point to the creature making them. A message becomes clear to Alex as she makes eye contact with the alien. This is me, the images say. I am this being.

Another flash from the tendrils draws Alex to them again. They now show images of the planet Solitude orbits around, and then the alien holding that planet in its tentacles. The message is clear once again: This world is mine.

A third flash. The tentacles show copied images of Alex’s face and body, the detail almost perfectly replicating the human’s shape. The images all point to themselves, and then the real Alex. The copied Alex’s faces all show confusion.

This is a question for Alex.

Who are you?

Alex’s eyelids flutter, starting to close on their own. She tries to speak, but cannot will her throat and mouth to move as she wants them to. As she takes in the scope of her body’s denial, she also detects a rhythmic pulse through her feet; it is the same pulse that made her limbs grow weak earlier. The alien is making that pulse every few seconds, even while its tendrils create the images and lights that Alex looks at and understands.

Alex’s instinctive reaction is fear. Am I being… tricked? Hypnotized? Am I going to be eaten?!

“No… Please…” Alex cannot get more than a single word out at once unless she puts lots of effort into it. “Don’t… don’t kill me…”

Alex feels another lump lock up her throat and block her words. The lump expands, blocking her lungs from getting precious oxygen. She cannot breathe. She feels her eyes bug out as her body tenses up like a cord, straining to get what she needs most.

The alien pauses, and then the images it has made all vanish almost simultaneously. It moves its body forward, pushing against the walls with its tendrils to move straight towards Alex. Any other tendrils all stretch towards Alex, coiling together and then out again in a blooming pattern. The orbs on these moving tentacles all flash in quick sequence; a strobe effect with multicolor addons.

Alex struggles to keep up with the changing colors. Round and round they shift, changing across the spectrum of a rainbow. She can tell the orbs, and the tendrils connected to them, are getting closer to her face. She still feels the pain in her chest, too; she still struggles to breathe through that cursed lump of anxiety.

The lights grow so bright and so fast that Alex cannot think straight while looking at them. Her body burns inside from lack of oxygen, while the lights burn in her eyes as beacons of color. Alex watches them, locked onto their dance with her eyes. Her vision starts turning black at the edges and her thoughts become hazy—

Alex lets out a wheezy gasp as she feels the alien emit a far stronger pulse. The vibrations are so strong they send shockwaves through her bones and muscles. As this force ripples inside her, the lump in Alex’s lungs vanishes.

Alex inhales. It feels like life is literally being pushed inside her. She coughs a few times before taking in another breath, reveling in the sensations she had just lost. Her muscles scream in relief as they release their tension.

Breathing becomes something joyful. Being alive becomes joyful.

Alex’s vision blurs with tears as she feels new tears shroud her eyelids. The orb’s lights change from flashes to bursts of starry colors like sunlight viewed from underwater. Alex finds it beautiful to look at, something reminding her of better times on Earth before she was assigned to the Cortula. She doesn’t want the lights to go away.

She wants to look at the lights.

Alex’s subconscious prevents her from letting go of the handle behind her. That would put her in danger, even from these lights. So, she stays put, stuck between her inner mentality and an alien’s beautiful influence.

The alien floats even closer to Alex. The tentacles it uses that are not keeping its body stable wiggle and drift back and forth in front of the woman’s eyes. Alex blinks, her vision still blurry, and then she sharply inhales when she feels her right eye be gently rubbed by a translucent surface. The tears in her eyes are wiped away with careful ministrations from the alien’s appendage.

Alex does not know how to react to this close contact. The alien takes advantage of this and wipes Alex’s other eye clean with a second tentacle. She can see clearly, and she realizes the alien has several tentacles around her upper body and face. She sees a mark of sentience, intelligence, in the creature’s bright eyes.

Alex blushes when she looks down to her chest and realizes the position she is in. Under a different circumstance, she might be seen as acting provocative towards this stranger. Her fear bubbles up again, conjuring the image of the tendrils ripping her bodysuit to shreds and having their ways with her bare flesh. She’s already let the alien touch her, what’s to stop it from taking that next step?

The alien brings a single tentacle and its corresponding orb to Alex’s face. She turns her eyes away from it. “No,” she tells the alien, “I don’t want it.”

The alien does not answer with words. Its foremost tentacle draws back a few inches before it repositions itself, pointing the orb downwards. Slowly, the alien moves that tentacle to the left, and then the right; every time it reaches the center, it gives a flash of blue light. This rhythmic action starts to catch Alex’s attention in seconds, but she tries to not look at it.

Suddenly, Solitude’s lights shut off. In the sudden darkness, the alien’s flashing orb becomes the sole source of color in the pod. Alex’s eyes snap onto it, her focus lasering onto the flashes because there is nothing else to look at.

Solitude’s lights come back dimmed, their artificial energy weakened. Alex’s eyes still hurt from the sudden brightness. The alien stops moving the flashing orb, and Alex’s eyes stop moving with it. She does not look away—she does not want to look away.

“Alert,” the pod’s computer announces to its two occupants. “A system error has been detected in the power reserves. Backup systems now operating to conserve power.”

Alex’s eyes widen. Backup systems means the pod has lost a lot of power. She can guess as to why that is, but it does not change her situation. If she does not do something, she is going to die in space or burn up in the atmosphere of an unknown world. She does not want to die here.

No one will remember her journey.

No one will care about what she has experienced.

No one will be sorry that she is gone.

No one will try to save her.

I am alone.

Blue light flashes very close to Alex’s eyes. Alex comes back to the present moment, seeing the alien’s flashing orb very close to her forehead. Alex stares at the glowing orb as she feels her worries diminish into residual thoughts in the back of her mind. The blue light is so much nicer to look at, and she so desperately wants to have something nice right now. It might be the last nice thing she ever gets.

As Alex takes another breath, the orb comes up to her forehead and pushes down on her skin. On the next flash, Alex feels blue light get pushed into her head. She moans in surprised pleasure as the blue light spreads through her mind. She remembers the open blue sky on Earth, a cool breeze on one’s body, and lying on a soft couch beneath beams of warm sunlight.

Alex’s mind, stunned and worn down from the trauma of her journey, welcomes the offer of relaxation with little resistance. Her eyes roll back when the orb flashes again; on the third flash of calming blue light, she gives a gleeful smile as she stares cross-eyed at the orb. It just feels so nice to look at the light. There’s no harm in that. The light is helping her feel happy. The alien making the light is helping her feel happy.

Alex wants to feel happy. That way, she won’t feel alone anymore.

A pulse of energy comes from the alien, vibrating through Alex’s body. She shudders and then sinks into the relaxation it brings. Her hands become limp, her fingers finally detaching from the handle. She floats aimlessly, staring at the orb as it nudges her forehead and keeps flashing that light she wants so much.

Then, the orb changes colors. Blue becomes green, the green of Earth’s forests. Alex feels part of her mind shift in response to this change. Instead of simple relaxation, she starts thinking calmly. She takes stock of her situation.

I am alive.

I am in an escape pod.

The pod has little power left.

An alien is in the pod with me.

Alex inhales slowly as she states fact after fact to herself. With each fact, she feels more comfortable where she is right now.

The alien is not hurting me.

The alien helped me relax.

The alien does not want to hurt me.

The alien wants to know who I am.

I…

Alex slowly brings her floating hands up to her chest, curling into a ball as she floats inside the pod.

I am safe here.

I feel safe here.

I am not alone.

I feel… happy.

I want to feel happy.

I want to feel happy here.

I want to…

The orb draws back from Alex’s forehead. She yearns for its touch again, the green light shining in her eyes like a lure in open water. She feels her arms and legs move under the alien’s touch—a touch she no longer feels afraid of. She lets the tentacles bring her over to the alien and turn her around to face it eye-to-eye. The tentacles keep her limbs close together, but they do not touch any other parts of her body.

The alien’s eyes change from green to magenta, and then turquoise, and then deep purple. Alex sees all these changes with rapt focus. More of the pulses pass over and through her body, a calm rumbling to further soothe her mind.

Alex yawns. Then she realizes what she just did and blushes in embarrassment. Why did I just do that?

The alien does not appear offended by Alex’s actions, but it spends several seconds looking at her with those purple eyes. It seems… curious. Almost like it wants Alex to do the same—

Alex yawns again. She can’t help it; the pulses and alien lights have worn her down so much. But she knows she cannot fall asleep. Solitude needs to land, and if the power goes out, it will become a missile with a trapped human along for the ride.

The alien bobs its “face” at Alex. She blinks, realization slow to come for her. Did it just… nod at me?

With delicate tugs against zero gravity, the alien pulls Alex downward with its tentacles. She stops moving when she is looking at the alien’s inner core. Hidden beneath a thicker layer of its bioluminescent “skin” is the strongest concentration of colors the alien appears to possess. Up close, the area around the core looks larger than Alex first thought.

Another pulse comes from the alien, and Alex feels a wave of bliss race through her limbs. Twitching, she feels the tentacles hold her steady. Eyes open wide, Alex watches as the layers of skin around the swirling core peel back and out like a blooming flower’s petals. Inside this chamber is the alien’s core, fully exposed.

The core pulses and swirls, growing faster with each second. The colors inside it shift from purple to aquamarine and back to purple. It is a vibrant nebula contained within the alien’s glowing body. In the darkness of Solitude’s reduced light, Alex is left with little distractions from this display of color and power. She is also left with few thoughts in her head.

So… pretty…

Alex’s lips twitch as more of those soothing pulses wash over her brain. The colors shift, and by now her brain is so connected to the alien’s colors that she interprets the core’s flashes as words. Simple messages appear in her mind, whispered through telepathic means.

Do not worry.

You are safe.

I am here for you.

I will keep you safe.

I promise.

Alex burbles out a half-formed question. Her lips hang open; moving them is so hard when she can just watch and listen. Still, the alien gives responses through new flashes and changing colors.

You are above my world.

My home.

You came here feeling alone.

You came here feeling afraid.

I have read your mind.

I have seen your fears.

Do not worry.

You are not alone.

I am here for you.

I will keep you safe.

I promise.

The alien’s tentacles pull Alex closer to the core. Alex hesitates, turning her head away while still looking at the core. Again, the colors of that alien light source change pattern and frequency. New words are spoken.

Rest inside me.

Relax by my core.

You will be safe here.

You will sleep.

You will smile.

You will not be alone.

We will go to my world.

I will wake you there.

I am here for you.

I will keep you safe.

I promise.

Alex is powerless to stop the tentacles from bringing her inside the alien’s body. She sees the world through a murky haze, but her world is centered around the alien’s core. The pulses it emits match her heartbeat now, synchronizing with her body’s natural motions. She yearns to be closer to it; when the alien’s tentacles release her arms and legs, she curls up around the core by her own free will.

The core flashes a repeating pattern of colors, the same message it has given multiple times to a receptive Alex.

I am here for you.

I will keep you safe.

I promise.

Alex believes the alien’s words. With a heavy sigh, she accepts what is going to happen to her. Her eyes fully close as she gives in to the alien’s wishes. She feels the vibrations, the steady pulses connecting her to the alien, and the greater universe, massage her body and mind. Each pulse pushes her thoughts further down into a deep chasm of relaxation.

Her thoughts are slowing down so she can sleep…

Sleep so deep…

So deep…

So…

Deep.

So.

Deep.

Alex does not feel her lips curl into a blissful smile as she snuggles beside the alien’s core. Her mind sinks into a deep, blissful sleep as the alien seals its “skin” back together. She does not feel the alien move its body around to brace against the pod’s surface, one of its tentacles stretching towards the control console and pressing a specific sequence of keys with its orb.

“Command code authorized,” Solitude’s computer announces as the alien’s tentacle darts away from the keys. “Initiating landing sequence. Brace for atmospheric entrance.”

The alien’s eyes change to a stormy blue. With Alex’s slumbering body inside it, the creature braces itself for what is to come.

She feels warm. She tries to move but finds it difficult to do so. She realizes she does not want to move. She feels more comfortable staying still, listening to the steady beating of her heart. That heartbeat sounds stronger now than ever before. It is her buoy, her lifeline, cradling her against the infinite expanse of her imagination.

She realizes she is dreaming. She does not need to open her eyes for this to be understood. She does not try to question why she is dreaming. She simply lets the dream happen. It is more comfortable this way.

The warmth grows, spreading invisible tongues of heat along her skin. She bends away from its touch, sticking to what is familiar to her. As the heat continues to expand, becoming more prominent, she curls up into a ball to protect herself. Being less exposed will mean taking less damage.

There is a pulse, a sound and vibration that carries through the dreamscape. Alex embraces it, knowing it is good. The heat recedes before the pulse, but it is only a temporary respite. The heat crawls back towards the dreaming woman, and then it rapidly slinks away. It has lost the battle.

The dreamer smiles while asleep. She has won. She is safe.

Suddenly, there is a great impact. The dreamscape changes, bending and reshaping itself reactively. The dreamer’s body rolls around, momentarily disoriented. But she is not afraid. She is too relaxed to be afraid, too deeply asleep to panic and question what is happening. She is safe here, no matter what.

The impact does not come again. Gentle bobbing motions rock the dreamer’s sleeping body. She feels a new layer of depth open beneath her, something dark and peaceful. Without opening her eyes, she feels gravity draw her to this new space. She can go there now, if she wants to; she would probably not want to come back up once she gets there.

Another pulse ripples through the dream. The dreamer’s body rises away from the deeper layer. She approaches a surface that, in her mind’s eye, is brighter and feels lighter. She ascends through it, as if climbing through the sky instead of the sea. Blue and green lights shine above the topmost layer, familiar colors to the dreamer.

The dreamer smiles. She does not want to go deeper now.

The dreamer raises a hand and feels it push against a thin layer of solid substance. That substance folds back symmetrically, a biological door opening before her. As it does so, she senses the dream around her sink back into the depths. It is not needed where she is going.

The dreamer closes her eyes to seal the dream away.

Alex Raine opens her eyes. Blue and green orbs of light rest above her head, each one attached to a translucent, bioluminescent tentacle. The tentacles move back and upwards, getting Alex to uncurl her body to catch up with them. When she is fully stretched out, the tentacles all stretch back to welcome two purple eyes and a smooth alien face into her view.

Sunlight—natural sunlight—shines on the alien’s face and makes it shimmer. Alex smiles at how pretty is looks. Through the alien’s body, Alex can see the sky of a new world. She bends her head up to look closer to where she is lying and feels the helpful motions of soft tendrils at her back and neck.

The Solitude escape pod lies still, washed up on the shore of an alien lake. The sand is a darker color than on Earth, the water not making waves like Earth’s oceans. The pod’s exterior sports burn marks and exposed circuitry, its entrance doors broken open and left that way. It is a dark, hard thing against the softer environment around it.

Alex breathes in this world’s air, seemingly without the need for a rebreather. Her body does not have any protection beyond her bodysuit. It appears no further protection is needed, especially with the alien as her helper.

Alex looks at the alien again, holding its gaze with her own. The alien’s eyes glow with purple light as it lets out a familiar pulse of energy. Alex smiles back as she lets the pulse bring her into a slightly more relaxed state of mind. She does not need to be afraid here; she has the alien to help her.

The alien said it will keep Alex safe. She trusts it to do that; it has already done that by bringing her safely to this world while she was asleep. She firmly believes that this help will stay until a human comes to rescue her. Surely, at some point in her life, another human will track Solitude and the Cortula to find all the lost crew members. Maybe, if Alex is lucky, a military division will come for her.

Until then, Alex has a companion. An alien one, but one who speaks to the deepest desire of her heart: to be safe, happy, and not alone in the universe.