I'm a space repairman. That's the simplest way my handler describe it to me. Not the most ideal but I'm fine with that.

The Desarians land their boat in my garage. It's the kind of boat that screams new and debt-financed. There's something funky with their navigator, they want me to fix it.

Desarians have four arms, which give them plenty of devices to speak sign-language with. But they can't hear. Audio just isn't a thing with them.

Most of them can't stop making signs. If hands are not enough, they wear outfits made out of screens. Just to make sure you don't miss anything they have to say, their outfit project shapes and colors that supposed to mean things. They turn fashion and communication into one and the same.

So much expressing, so little to say.

But they can't hear anything, which is tough shit for me. I have to type on my tablet to get my message across. I don't trust the voice translator, it almost caused a diplomatic disaster the last time.

So I go into the boat looking for the navigator. It's a decently large boat yet there are Desarian people at every corner.

They look at me with expressions I don't know what to make of. I'm inclined to think some of them find me attractive. But their body language don't add up.

These are aliens for god's sake, I forget that now and then. They are not supposed to make sense, I need to stop projecting.

It doesn't take long before I sense something new. And awkward.

They are making sound. They sound like a mixture of grunts and shrieks. It started off softly from no particular corner and gradually grow. I couldn't tell at first but they come straight from the Desarian bodies.

I keep walking towards the navigator machine. It gets more difficult, the noise gets louder.

I start to pay more attention to people more than where I'm going. Are they saying something? Quite the opposite, they seem to be visually speaking less.

Some of them have eye contact with me. I'm half afraid eye contact with aliens is an avenue for misunderstanding.

I have a theory, so I pick a spot with the most people and I stop. I want them to see me.

They did. Most of them turn around look to at me, probably wondering what's up with me. The sound got a bit quiet.

I think they don't like me. And I'd like to see what they're going to do about it.

That's what the grunts and shrieks are about. The sounds are getting louder as I approach the navigator machine.

I do the repair, it's rather simple. I tell the person in charge everything is now fine. He pay me as promised.

As a side note I ask if there's anything wrong. He's confused by my question and tell me everything is fine.

On my way out the shrieks grow increasingly sharp. I'm careful not to walk faster than necessary.

I can't tell for sure but it feels like the eyes are all on me now.

I turn the corner towards the exit. The exit is right in front but the hatch isn't opened. They are not letting me out.

I can feel the boat moving. They never intend to let me go.

A couple of Desarians are coming my way. They walk slowly at first, then crawl on the ground and sprint towards me.

They should know better. I pull out a flash bang and knock out both of them, probably blinding them permanently.

I know exactly where the nearest escape pods are in this boat, it's not that far away. As soon as I approach one, a Desarian stands nearby, watching. She is probably an innocent bystander; what a shame.

I got on an escape pod and popped out into floating space.

Just before they fly out of sight, the Desarian boat exploded.

The flame comes out just like how I rigged it.