by J. M. Page
And in between the screens, covering every inch of free wall space, there were pictures. Pictures of a foreign world, pictures of other Fibbuns, even pictures of Fibbuns and what appeared to be tiny humans — people like her.
Lina swallowed. She was right, wasn’t she? She squinted, trying to see the expressions of those people more clearly, but she couldn’t tell if they were happy or in distress.
The guard grunted something, loud enough that it wasn’t for her, and another voice called back, another grunt.
Her guard gestured and Lina frowned, not sure what he wanted from her. Then, a large table and four chairs rose from the floor and she took a seat, earning a satisfied nod from the guard.
Her growing suspicions were confirmed when the Captain entered the room. He didn’t have his guards with him this time, but that made him no less imposing. He was huge, even by Fibbun standards, and looked perpetually angry. Possibly murderous.
He took a seat opposite Lina and dropped a translator box in the middle of the table.
The Captain grunted, and the box said, “Go ahead.”
Lina frowned, shaking her head, confused. “Go ahead with what?”
His expression grew somehow, impossibly, angrier. “Goblak says you want to talk. Talk.”
Goblak? She turned to face the guard and he shifted from one foot to the other. “If I may?” the box translated as he spoke in his native tongue.
“What?” the Captain said, his tone unmistakably sharp despite the level tone of the translation.
“She is not aware of—” The translation began, but the Captain switched the box off as they fell into what seemed, by all accounts, to be a heated argument.
“Um… Can I say something?” Lina asked, clearing her throat while they shouted at each other. Both stopped for a moment, turning to her, seeming surprised to find her still there.
Hesitantly, the Captain reached for the translator and turned it on again.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” she said, her voice shaking under the oppressive glare of these two aliens. “But I know that you guys could use some help. This ship is falling apart. It’s only a matter of time before something related to life support fails and then you’re really in trouble.”
“This is what I was trying to explain, Captain,” the guard, Goblak said.
The Captain leaned across the table, his stale breath making Lina wrinkle her nose as he spoke. “You think you can fix these things for us?”
She nodded, something in her gut starting to feel uneasy. “I know I can. Without the proper tools I’ve already fixed most of the problems in the… room I was in.” She felt like implying they were keeping her in a cell, keeping her as a prisoner — even though they were — would insult the Fibbuns. She wasn’t entirely sure how they operated, but she’d gotten enough of a feel for it to know that she should tread lightly.
“And what of your companion? The prince.”
Now, Lina shifted in her seat, twisting her fingers together nervously. She could only hope they weren’t experts in reading her body language.
“He was under the influence of the medication you provided and was speaking nonsense,” she said carefully, skirting around outright denying his claims.
“So he is not the prince?”
Lina swallowed, her throat thick with worry. “What are you going to do with us? I’m willing to help, but only in exchange for our freedom.”
The Fibbun Captain’s face twisted and he let out a strange sound that startled her. A loud bellow of sorts. She looked back to Goblak for any clues, but he didn’t seem concerned, or fazed at all, really.
“You think you’re in any position to bargain with me?” the Captain made that terrifying sound again and Lina realized it must have been a laugh. She shuddered. No wonder the Mabnoans thought these creatures were scary and dangerous. Everything about them was foreign and different.
She sucked in a breath, steeling herself. “I think I have valuable skills and you’d be a fool to turn your nose up at them because of some silly war that hasn’t been active for centuries.”
The Captain shot to his feet, roaring, but another voice came from an adjoining room. A softer voice saying, “She’s right, you know.”
Lina froze. Every cell in her body seemed to stop what it was doing, her heart stopped pumping, her lungs stopped breathing. There was someone else on this ship that could talk to her. Her eyes darted again to the photos on the wall, then to the doorway the voice had come from.
The door to the other room, which had been slightly ajar this whole time, now slid open completely — after a hearty shove from the other side — to reveal a woman like Lina. The same height, the same size, even the same buttercup yellow hair piled on her head in a knot. She wore a simple white jumpsuit, with thin-framed glasses perched on the end of her nose.
The two Fibbuns also stopped and turned toward the door, but neither seemed to raise their guard around this woman. Neither seemed surprised to see her.
She smiled as she walked into the room. “How are you?” she asked sweetly, sitting in the seat next to the Captain’s, on the opposite side of the table.
Lina nodded, her tongue too heavy to talk, just ogling this woman. There was something about her that seemed familiar. “Fine,” she choked out, realizing the woman was waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry for all of this. No one even told me we’d intercepted a ship until an hour or so ago. If I’d had any idea… They can be a bit abrasive, can’t they?”
The translator was still running and both Fibbuns bristled at her comment, making affronted noises. She turned with kind eyes toward the Captain and rested a hand on his arm, patting it gently.
Lina’s frown only grew deeper, something about this whole thing seemed… off. What was she missing?
“What’s going on?” she finally asked, her throat dry, her breath hard to find.
The woman’s expression fell and she sighed, removing her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. “It’s quite a long story, to be honest. So I suppose I’ll start the only way I know how. What do you think of our home?” she asked, extending her arms, gesturing all around.
“It’s… fine,” Lina said, more confused than ever.
“No, no. Tell me what you really think,” she said, reaching to the translator cube and turning it off. She gave both the Fibbuns a hard look that clearly said ‘don’t worry, I’ve got this under control.’
Lina wasn’t sure she liked that look. It only made her realize how much of what was going on she simply didn’t understand.
“Well…” Lina said, nibbling on her bottom lip. “It seems in dire need of repairs. A ship this size… you must not make it back to home base often, which means you have people living here full time, living out their entire lives — maybe entire generations? — and there are clearly some big red flags that are going to be catastrophes if they go ignored.”
The woman nodded. “And what do you think of our… hosts, here? You can be honest with me, dear.”
Lina’s brows pushed together, suspicion mounting still. What did she want her to say? What did she expect? It almost seemed like she was trying to bait her into saying something defamatory about the Fibbuns. She took a measured breath to steady her nerves. If she was walking into a trap, she was going to do it with both eyes open and with careful steps.
“I’d only heard of them recently, but they’ve not been what I expected… The hospitality I’ve been shown is beyond what I could have imagined.”
The other woman laughed. “Are you sure it’s your boyfriend who’s the prince? That was a very royal answer, my dear. Very tactful.”
Lina just frowned, unable to hide her confusion. “I’m sorry, but I really have no idea what you’re getting at here.”
The other woman grinned and nodded. “I know,” she said, flipping the translator back on. “But in order to tell my story, I had to confirm a few things I suspected. You see, I was brought up, knowing about our mortal e
nemies. I knew of the fearsome creatures that terrorized our kind and forced them to do their bidding.” Both Fibbuns grumbled under their breath, but it wasn’t enough — or perhaps it was too much — for the translator to pick up.
“So, when the ship I was on was captured… You can imagine my reaction. Probably similar to your reaction — fear, panic, grief, maybe even some resignation. I was sure I’d never get off this ship.”
Lina didn’t point out that it seemed like she never had.
“But I also noticed the things you did. I noticed a ship falling into disrepair. And I noticed my captors — the monsters I’d been warned about — didn’t seem as bad as I was led to believe. Where you’re gifted with mechanical problems, my area of expertise is more related to… anthropological mysteries. I saw the inconsistencies with the established narrative and my own first-hand observations. I couldn’t leave until my curiosity was sated.”
“But… You’re still here.”
A sad smile answered, and the woman nodded. “I am. There were those who thought I’d been tainted… That I’d been brainwashed and would try to lead the enemies back to our home. I wasn’t allowed to go back. Still, I had work to do here. I realized that this war… this conflict that has been going on for ages, is being perpetuated by cultural misunderstandings and a lack of communication. You’ve no doubt noticed the differences between us. How hard it can be to communicate at times. And when I came on board, we didn’t have these handy translators. I helped with the translations, though we haven’t had much cause to test it before you arrived!” she said, clearly happy with how the ‘tests’ were going so far.
Lina shook her head, feeling like it was stuffed full of information that she couldn’t sort through. And still, like beacons shining in her mind, there were so many questions.
“So… you’ve been their prisoner all this time?” she asked, her chest tightening. Even if they did let her and Bain go, would the Mabnoans react to Lina the same way this woman’s people reacted to her? When Lina tried to tell them of the generosity and misunderstandings, would she be labeled an outcast? A traitor?
Did it even matter, though? She never planned on going back to Mabnoa. Bain could go back; he didn’t buy into her theory. Besides, she couldn’t believe that the queen would turn her back on her own son, even if he had disobeyed her direct orders. They were still family.
The woman laughed — a musical sound that filled the room with warmth — and the lines around her eyes became more pronounced. She was a fair bit older than Lina, but she still looked healthy, young, and vital. Living on this downtrodden ship certainly hadn’t hurt her, it seemed.
“Oh, my dear, prisoner is hardly the word. I could have left any time I wanted. No one’s keeping me here against my will.”
Lina nibbled her bottom lip. She wished she could say the same. But then she looked from the Captain, to Goblak and over her shoulder toward the door. Could she? If she told them she wanted to leave, would they let her?
“And you… never wanted to?” she asked, edging toward the question carefully. The translator was still on, and the two Fibbuns were still watching them closely. If the woman did have any qualms, who was to say she’d feel comfortable speaking out about them now?
The woman sighed and her face fell, making her look much older than she had while smiling. “That’s not entirely accurate. There were times when I wished… when I thought that maybe I’d made the wrong decision… But I had work to do here. With my help… I wouldn’t say it’s been easy, but perhaps easier to communicate with others. My people… though they don’t welcome me back have seen that our so-called enemies wish us no harm. There have been no hostilities between us for nearly a decade. And, of course, there’s the matter of my gift…”
Lina frowned, trying to work out the cryptic message, but then the woman wiggled her fingers and it wasn’t so cryptic anymore. “You mean… with the plants?”
“Yes, of course. You were right in your assumption that this ship has housed generations. The Fibbun homeworld…” She shifted in her seat and Lina noticed the two aliens tensing. “It’s dead. It was dying when the conflict started, they’d hoped to find a way to save it.”
“And they failed?” Lina asked, her throat tightening. She knew what it was like to be without a home in the Universe. To feel adrift without roots. This was a whole species that felt that way, that suffered like she had — more than she had — and would never find the solace that she did on Mabnoa.
The woman gave her a sad, solemn nod. “Yes, they failed. The air is toxic, nothing can live there, no plants, no creatures, even the ships… The atmosphere corrodes everything. Any ships that have tried to go in for survivors quickly succumbed to the effects and crashed. We can only assume now that no one remains.”
Lina swallowed at the thought. They’d known there were people suffering. They tried to send rescue ships and every one of them failed. How many did they send before they gave up? And how difficult must that decision have been?
Suddenly, she was irrationally angry with the Mabnoans for hiding out, for keeping their gift secreted away while a whole planet died. Her hands balled into fists, her nails biting into the fleshy part of her palm, leaving divots in their place.
“So this ship is…”
“Everything they have left, yes,” she finished with a stiff nod. “Their hydroponic farms weren’t doing so well when I arrived, but in time, I’ve helped them to flourish. There’s no shortage of food now,” she said proudly.
Lina nodded. “I’d noticed.”
And almost instantly, the other woman seemed to deflate. “That doesn’t mean we’re without our problems though, as you’ve noticed. We’d love to have your help.”
Lina sat back in her chair, trying to put some distance between the woman who looked so familiar and herself. She needed to think, and those kind, shimmering eyes only made her want to jump and agree to anything she could.
“There’s something I still don’t understand… If there haven’t been hostilities for over a decade, why were we shot down and captured?”
“Ah,” the woman said, pressing her lips together firmly. “That… may have been my fault.”
“I thought you’d only just found out we were even here,” Lina said, suspicions rising as she narrowed her eyes.
“Well… I did, yes.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Lina’s eyes narrowed and unease crawled up her spine like a spider. Something was missing from this explanation and she didn’t like it.
The Captain grunted angrily, his hand slamming on the table, rattling the translator cube as it calmly said, “Tell her now.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Lina shoved her chair back, standing in one quick movement, slapping her palms down in front of her. “What are you not telling me? I’ve listened to your story. I’ve entertained the idea that there’s more going on here than I’ve been told, and you’re still not telling me everything? How am I supposed to convince Bain that this war shouldn’t be happening if you’re still holding onto secrets?” Her heart raced, her blood pumping hot. She couldn’t say why she was so fired up about this, or why her voice was shaking. Something in the back of her mind had been telling her something was missing, there was a piece of the puzzle still obscured, but she kept shoving it away, telling herself it would all come in due time.
But this… Clearly the Captain felt she should have already been told whatever it was and the clear disagreement in their ranks didn’t inspire much confidence.
The woman gaped at her, eyes wide and unblinking, and Lina was prepared to turn and storm out and test her apparent freedom, when Goblak’s slime-covered hand settled on her forearm. It was warm and heavy — and a little gross, to be perfectly honest — but his eyes spoke to her.
“Please, sit down,” the translator regurgitated his garbles.
“It’s time to tell her the truth Vessa. All of it,” the Captain said.
“Of course,” she said with a r
esigned sigh, her whole body slumping forward until she looked only half her size.
“When I was captured… I wasn’t alone. My husband and I shared a line of work. We fell in love during an archaeological expedition and our romance was nothing short of a whirlwind. He seemed like someone I’d known my whole life. Like a part of me I hadn’t known was missing.”
Lina slowly sank back into her seat, her hands still trembling. She didn’t know what this had to do with anything, but she didn’t like where it was going. It sounded too familiar. Too much like her and Bain. And hearing the woman — Vessa — speak about it in the past-tense only made Lina uneasier. She knew this story didn’t have a happy ending and the desire to run from the room was stronger than ever.
“Yunna was my other half,” she said, “and we both had this thirst for adventure. A longing to see more than the world we were brought up in. But we were told the same stories I’m sure your friend has heard his whole life: the outside is too dangerous, the enemies are waiting, you’ll never be able to come home. Of course,” she said with a wide smile thrown Lina’s way, “we too were young and foolish. We didn’t heed the warnings. We wanted to pursue the mysteries of the cosmos.”
Under the table, Lina twisted her hands together, her knuckles cracking under the pressure as she tried to stop finding parallels with her and Bain. It was almost eerie how similar the stories were.
“We talked to our ruling council and convinced them to give us a ship. We acknowledged the risks, but there hadn’t been a sighting of the Fibbuns in over a generation and it seemed safe enough.”
“Until you were captured,” Lina said, filling in the blanks.
“Yes, until we were captured,” Vessa said. “This ship had, unbeknownst to us, been searching for a new homeworld for a century. And it just so happened that the planet they were scouting was the same one we were studying. As you can imagine, there was a… misunderstanding.”
