Alien?

“You’re an alien?” Riley squawked. It probably shouldn’t have surprised him, especially considering that dream he so wasn’t thinking about now, but it still floored him. “I got hijacked by an alien?”

You’re the alien, the squatter insisted. I’m… not from around here.

It must’ve realized that this was a big deal for its involuntary host, because it stayed quiet while Riley tried not to hyperventilate or think too closely about the Alien movies and their take on extraterrestrial encounters.

When he was done checking his belly and chest for signs of distension, it added reassuringly, Listen, I’m not going to mess with you, okay? Or…

breed in you. Gah. That’s disgusting.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Riley asked, filing away the information that apparently the alien could suck general concepts out of his mind as easily as focused thoughts and language data. “You could be trying to lull me into a false sense of security until your eggs hatch or something.”

Yeah, his squatter huffed, or I could just barf into your brain right now and be done with it. It was an emergency, you asshole—I had no choice but to find a host and you were the only compatible organism around. Can’t we just… agree to cohabitate for a while? I swear I won’t nest, or hatch, or… or whatever other gross things you can come up with. I’ll be no trouble. You won’t hardly know I’m there.

Riley sat down on the edge of the bed heavily. He swallowed, feeling completely out of his depth. For the first time in years he allowed himself to wish his father was still alive; he could’ve used his advice and reassurance.

“Is this permanent?” he asked, scared of the answer, but needing to know.

No, the squatter said immediately. We’re not fully bonded. I only did the basic hookups, nothing more. This is a temporary fix until I can find myself a suitable host and arrange for my relocation. Think of me as a… a roommate or something.

“And until then I’m walking around with you in my head?” Somehow, this didn’t sound like a particularly good deal for Riley.

I’m an intelligent armor and weapons system, the disembodied voice reminded him in a tone that suggested this was something to be awed by if you weren’t a complete moron. I can and will protect you in return for

riding your bones for a bit. I’ve already taken the liberty of hardening your skeletal structure. Did you know your left knee was all kinds of fucked up?

He had, actually. Bull riding was hard on the body, which was why he’d quit it after only one season and had never tried to go pro. It takes a special kind of crazy to keep climbing on one mean bull after the other, and while Riley had the skill, he didn’t have the ambition.