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I bucked my hind legs, kicking behind me to take two of the men down. I felt a sharp, biting pain in my chest, but ignored it. I reared and kicked again, forcing the men to take a few steps back. I felt temporarily satisfied, when another sharp prick struck my neck.
I raised a hand, feeling the area. My fingers grazed over a dart protruding from the side of my neck. Too late, I put all the pieces together, realizing it was a tranquilizer.
I frantically pulled the dart out, wanting to remove it before the medicine could take effect. Then I glanced down at the dart that I had felt earlier, lodged in my front.
I tugged that one out as well, noticing with chagrin how heavy my hand felt. My body felt slow and sluggish. Just as my brain was starting to comprehend that I was too late – that the drugs were already entering my blood stream – another dart hit my back leg, and then another struck my arm.
My vision began to swim. Everything was swirling as my hand tried to find the last two darts. But they were impossible to find, and my eyes couldn’t focus. It was like a shade behind my eyes was drawing closed. I fought to stay awake, forcing myself to concentrate. A buzzing sound started to swell in my ears, and everything went the same shade of gray.
My last coherent thought was that I had to stay awake and protect Claire.
* * *
I woke up in a large white room. Between the bright lights and how very white everything was, it hurt my eyes. I winced, feeling overwhelmed. It was unappealing enough that I almost didn’t want to scrap myself off the floor, where I lay. I could just stay here, forever, with my eyes closed.
But then I thought of Claire, and I knew that plan was unrealistic. Whatever this horrible place was, I couldn’t just give up. I slowly got to my feet, ready to examine my new surroundings.
I paced around the perimeter of my space, realizing that I was in a cage. All four sides were glass. It was completely empty, besides me. There was no way in, or out, that I could make out, and I wondered how they had gotten me in here. Had they built the cage around me while I was sleeping?
The cage was placed in the middle of the white room. Outside of my prison were tables full of various equipment. Some of it looked rather intimidating, and at least from a distance, appeared to be sharp. I had no clue as to the use or purpose of many of the tools I could see laid out on the tables. With any luck, I hoped that I wouldn’t have to find out what they did.
I’d always wanted to learn more about humans and their ways. But this was something that I had a feeling I should be content remaining ignorant about.
Despite all the fancy items on display, no one seemed to be around to use them. My eyes darted in a circle around the room, expecting to find at least one person guarding the equipment. But there was no one in sight.
It was perplexing to me that they’d worked this hard to capture me, just to leave me here. I approached one of the glass walls, tentatively putting my hands against it. It felt sturdy and unlikely to break. But I wasn’t going to strength-test it yet. I suspected that someone, somewhere, was watching me.
“Hello?” I called loudly, peering around the room. I couldn’t make out anything obvious – no blacked-out glass that they could observe me through or hidden doorways. Still, I was wary.
“Hello?” I tried again, straining my ears to hear. There was no detectable reaction. Maybe I really was alone here.
Even if I was, I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew where Claire was. Did they have her in a cage of her own, in a room like this one? The men who’d captured me were wearing military uniforms that resembled hers. If she’d been one of them, did that mean she was safe? I hoped so.
I wandered the cage for a while, studying the room. Nothing new revealed itself to me. I had all the same questions that I’d started with, when, finally, a woman came into the white room through the only door.
She was middle-aged and wore a lab coat and glasses. Her straight blond hair was pulled into a professional looking ponytail. She was thin, with a sharp nose and a serious face. She approached the other side of the glass, pushing her glasses up her nose. Then she pulled a pen from her lab coat as she introduced herself.
“Hello,” she called, flashing a humorless, thin-lipped smile. “I’m Dr. Simone Grant.” The smile faded almost instantly as she grabbed a clipboard tucked under her arm. She held it in front of her, pen at the ready. “I understand from our hunters that you speak English. That means you won’t require the universal language translation implants we typically use. I find that fascinating.”
She peered at me over her glasses and paused to give me an opportunity to respond. I remained silent. After a beat, she continued, undeterred.
“Can you tell me your name?” she asked, fidgeting the pen between her fingers.
I stubbornly maintained my silence, not wanting this woman to know anything about me. I didn’t even like her knowing that I spoke English, even though I couldn’t see what difference it made.
She cleared her throat and tried again. “Can you tell me how long you’ve lived on Earth?”
I lifted my head to meet her gaze, wanting her to see my defiant expression. Perhaps she did not understand yet that I was refusing to answer, but I would soon make that clear.
“It must be a while,” she mused. “If you had the time to learn our language. Just how long is that? One year? Two?” she suggested. She quirked an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for my answer. A long silence stretched between us. “How did you learn?” she asked. “Did someone teach you?”
She clipped the pen back to the clipboard after a moment. I thought she was finally taking the hint that I wasn’t going to answer, but then she spoke again.
“You must be pretty smart.” I just stared at her with a dead-pan expression. I was smart – too smart – to fall for such an obvious attempt at flattery. Did that ever really work? “Maybe you could help us understand how you learned our language, and then we could use it to teach other aliens.”
I was suspicious of this woman. That should’ve been obvious, given the circumstances. But somehow, it felt deeper than the simple fact that her people had captured me. Claire had originally shown up trying to capture me, after all. My dislike of this woman felt both intense and focused. Something about her felt… off.
She wasn’t my friend, and she had no intention of ever being one. I doubted that she had any interest in teaching others how to speak English, despite her pretending to only ask for altruistic purposes. It all felt fake and calculated. Her questions were deliberate. I had no idea what she planned to do with the knowledge, but she wasn’t going to get any help from me.
