I jolt awake, blinking into the bright blur of day, and it isn’t a terrible dream. It’s a terriblereality. Thereissomething in my mouth, something meaty and bitable and absolutely unwelcome. I clamp down, sinking my teeth as deep as they’ll go, and the thing retreats, accompanied by a surprised grunt.
Good. Screw you, aliens. I hear a rapid, tense exchange in an unrecognizable language and satisfaction thrums through me like a good vibrato. Whatever they have planned for my end, I won’t make it easy for them. I didn’t think I had the energy to resist anymore, but today I do, and I’m going to use it while I’ve got it.
I feel...strangely good. Notgood. Every muscle aches, and stripes sting across my legs and back. But my head doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does, and I can lift my neck without wincing. And beyond that, there’s something mental or emotional that’s a little less bruised than it was yesterday.
And the biggest surprise? I’m not tied up or in a cage. This is new.
I struggle to focus on the shadowy figures in front of me. It’s weird, but only certain parts of my vision are blurry. Sometimes I catch things in focus around the edges. I move my head around until I piece together a picture of where I am.
I see an open room with a high, domed ceiling. Two upright figures, a bigger one and a smaller one, stand about ten feet away. They’re arguing over something, pointing at the big one’s hand.
The hand I bit, I realize with satisfaction. At the same moment, they notice I’m awake and turn to look at me. I can’t make out their individual features, just their shape and color. The smaller one looks almost human-sized, although the proportions of its limbs make it distinctly nonhuman.
The larger one is dark purple and, if a human bodybuilder were a violin, this would be a cello. Dramatic, sculpted arms meet impossibly broad shoulders, tapering into a lithe torso and lower limbs that promise more speed than an Olympic sprinter’s. I’m guessing male for this one and female for the other one. I think my new captors might be a couple.
I wonder how all that connects together. Why did they buy me? Judging by how the couple is arguing, I’m guessing they don’t agree about what to do with me. Before I have time to think about it much, they approach me tentatively, their faces coming into better focus. They aren’t lizards. They lack tails, for one, and their skull shape is different than the lizard people, with actual chins and with eye sockets lower in the face, more like humans. And they’re a different color, too. Rather than the lizard’s pink, shiny skin, theirs is a golden beige that blends with the walls and floor of the domed room.
I can’t see fine details of their features still, but the smaller one opens its mouth. Teeth flash inside the dark smudge of the interior, a tongue moves. “Vasa tlet.” The alien’s voice is soft and calm as it— I’m going to ventureshe—repeats the words again, pointing to her lips. “Vasa tlet.”
Open your mouth.
Her meaning is as clear as the sun slanting through the arched windows. Outside them, I see the shadowy sway of plants, and I’m momentarily distracted by the realization that I’m not on a spaceship, but on a planet. I feel the surface where I’m resting. It’s soft. Warm, plush fur brushes my fingers instead of the wire mesh I’m used to. This is different. Everything is different.
The big guy leans toward me abruptly, wrapping a huge hand around the back of my neck, his thumb resting across my cheek. He gives me the tiniest shake. “Vasa tlet, Alara.” he says gruffly, the order unmistakable. I brace myself for his thumb to dig in, forcing my mouth open, but it doesn’t. Instead it brushes against my mouth’s ticklish corner almost tenderly.
I pinch my lips together and clench my teeth against intrusion. Before I put anything in my mouth, I’m going to need its complete provenance. Where was it grown, who picked it, who prepared it and according to which recipe, all of that. I’m going to need to read a paper about it in theJournal of New Foods. I’ve had enough sharp green cubes cutting me up on the inside to last me a lifetime. On a spaceship, I can accept that there are no alternatives. But on a planet? I get to be pickier.
Who is this woman inside me who has so much fire? When I closed my eyes, I was prepared to die, but I woke up ready to die for a cause. They might both end in death, but there’s a vast difference between the two. How did I bridge the gap while I was sleeping?
“Vasa tlet. Vasa, va Alioth!” He sinks to his knees beside me. Is he... begging?
The smaller one puts a hand on his shoulder and says something in an admonishing tone. Then, to my surprise, she hums a few bars and breaks into a simple, haunting melody that sends chills down my spine and makes my jaw drop.
Vasa vasa, shemí vasa
Vasa vala vana
The refrain repeats, with an added line. A chorus and verse. It’s a song. These aliens havemusic, something I’ve rarely experienced since I was taken from Earth. I haven’t heard any voice but my own deliver melodic speech in the way humans do when they sing.
Until now.
The big guy sees his chance and crams two thumbs into my open mouth, holding my jaws apart for a split second. Then he releases me and rises, leaving me shaken, the taste of his skin, herbal and salted, still on my tongue. The sweet song cuts off, and they’re talking again, out-of-focus hands waving, their skin colors shifting rapidly.
The song was just a trick to distract me.
Wait a minute.They’re changing color?If they wanted to distract me, they should have just donethatto begin with. As I stare as best I can with my cloudy vision, utterly fascinated, the big one turns a vibrant deep green, and the small one briefly flashes bright sky-blue before both shift slowly back to the golden beige of our surroundings.
The female alien moves out of my field of vision, and I realize I’m still too weak to follow her movements by turning my head, let alone stand up, so all I can do is watch as the big male kneels down beside me again.
He reaches out to touch me and says something, a lilt to his voice that lets me know it’s a question.
“I don’t understand you,” I whisper, feeling sapped of energy already. I don’t have enough left to try and figure out what he’s asking. My eyes start to close.
“Oljin,” he says pointedly.
“Oljin?” I repeat. He nods, thumping his chest eagerly. It’s a strange gesture. My brain tries to make sense of the whole situation. “What does that mean? What do you want?”
He touches my arm and asks the same question he did before, then touches his chest and says, “Oljin.”
