The Creare Compound ship didn’t request permission to dock with the Space Command Space Station. It’s like our firewalls didn’t exist. Xal heard the crisp clamp of metal on metal that reverberated through the ship walls. The void of space would have probably not even allowed the sound to travel a few inches, but steel on steel always echoed louder than any other materials that Xal knew. The group of older men and Xal stood in front of the hatch door as the gold bars of light from the Creare Compound ship shifted to match the space lock frame.

Xal had pulled up a video of the Creare Compound ship as it drew near. The transport ship’s reflective black surface made it hard to distinguish its actual shape and size until the scanners could fully assess it. Even then, the scanners failed multiple times before producing an image fractured with blocks of gold and black pixels as if someone set a chessboard over the scan. The transport ship measured about thirty feet in length, fifteen feet tall, and would house the exact number of people assigned by Adonis. The gold lights stopped moving, and the airlock cycled through before stabilizing the pressure between the Creare Compound Ship and Dark Specter 1. 

“Oxygen levels stabilized, Fleet Admiral Crafton,” Xal said, following protocol, “Permission to open airlock.”

Fleet Admiral Crafton looked on at the new opening of a soft golden glow on the other side of the airlock. It was as if the Fleet Admiral could feel Xal’s worry. An alien craft with a title that no one from any of the three-letter agencies recognized and just so happened to be kind enough to offer a free ride to a completely innocent meeting with someone who is hopefully human. Yeah, nothing to worry about there. Xal turned back to the Fleet Admiral.

“Sir, they’ve already docked,” Xal said. 

A figure appeared in the doorway. The person stood in the same black and gold armor as the transmission. The armored Creare Commander removed their helmet to reveal ahead of short-cropped black hair and a softer jawline than Xal expected. If it was a commander, most commanders always had those solid jawlines that just screamed that they came out of a movie and demanded the respect of Hank Levill in his MEGA outfit. What I wouldn’t kill for some MEGA powers and a cybernetic armor right now. But in the end, Xal accepted that he was just another human trying to survive in this mess of a situation. 

“Fleet Admiral Crafton,” Adonis said, the same rumbling voice as before, “I see you selected quite a large team to join you on our craft. I must apologize as some of your team have weapons hidden in their uniforms, and that will be unacceptable.”

Adonis stepped forward in the antechamber, and Xal glanced at Admiral Crafton. The Fleet Admiral shook his head, deferring Xal’s question to try and vent the antechamber. Not that it would do much, but Xal didn’t think that it would hurt to try. 

“I must also ask for only two of you to come,” Adonis said. “Further analysis of your ship and its crew members show that you, Fleet Admiral, and Xal are the true leaders of this craft.”

Xal could feel all of the eyes of the senior staff fall on him. This makes no sense, and I hold no power or leadership position on this ship. Adonis tapped the glass on the door separating the Spaceman and the alien ship. A gold flash appeared along the seams of the door, and the clank of the lock signaled the opening door. Xal took a step back in time to see a small pill-sized metal object fly from Adonis’s wrist. A soft hiss filled the air before Xal blacked out.