by Delia Roan
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…
The guard’s footsteps faded, but she stayed motionless. The clinking of the chain would echo, so she only moved when the coast was clear. Counting to a hundred would ensure he was out of earshot for what she wanted to try.
Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty… Oh screw this. He’s long gone.
Mel sat up with a quiet groan. She rubbed the ache from her arm. If the barbarians holding her hadn’t cut her hair, she could have coiled her back-length braid into a pillow. She huffed a curl out of her face. Instead she had this unruly mop.
Jenna would laugh her ass off at me.
As a child, Mel’s younger sister, Jenna, had gone missing for several days. She turned up on the side of a highway, raving about aliens. Horrible, ugly aliens who kidnapped girls and women. Like the one who had snatched them from their apartment a few nights ago.
Mel shuddered at the memory. That guy was gross.
As much as Jen had harped on about the ugliness of the aliens, she had to admit Mr. Nice Guy was pretty hunky.
Different species.
Still the enemy.
Mel’s relief at having her sister home had turned to anger and then embarrassment, when all Jenna wanted to talk about was her experience in the woods. Mel felt a pang of regret. Maybe if she hadn’t been so concerned about being the Crazy Girl’s Sister, she could have been a better sister to Jenna.
Once Jen is done laughing, I’ll apologize for being a butt.
She rolled her shoulders and scurried to the wall where a huge metal ring anchored the chain to the rock. Mel had to work fast. The tunnel Mr. Nice Guy went down was a dead-end. He would return to continue on his rounds.
Gotta be quick.
She wrapped her hands around the ring and waited. Within a few minutes, the ground began to rumble. Bracing her feet against the wall, she yanked on the ring. The muscles in her arms strained as the ring trembled, sending vibrations up her arm. She gritted her teeth against the ache in her biceps and thighs.
Mel’s strength gave out before the tremors ended. With a puff of breath, she landed on her backside with a thump. Massaging her fingers, she scowled at the ring. A few days ago, it had shifted during a quake, giving her false hope. Since then, it had stayed firm. Unlike her own resolve.
Her forehead touched her knees, and she wrapped her arms around herself. She tried to hold back the despair crawling up her throat. If she crumbled now, nobody would be around to save Jenna. As her big sister, it was up to Mel to get them home safely. Jen was a sweet kid, but she was soft. She wouldn’t last a New York minute in a place like this.
The only one Jen can count on is me.
And the only one I can count on is me.
As if to underline her plight, the ground renewed its shaking, sending pebbles raining down on her. Mel flung her arms around her head and ducked down. Oh God, oh God! Please don’t let it cave in on me. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the earth to stop.
A crash from her left made her yelp. The wall collapsed, sending rocks the size of her head tumbling where she had been feigning sleep. With one last rumble, the earthquake passed.
Mel crawled across the floor to the debris and peered at it. The dust tickled her nose, and she buried a sneeze into the sleeve of her ratty sweatshirt. Then she studied the rocks. If she had truly been asleep, she would have been crushed.
Glad I didn’t count all the way to a hundred.
Mel narrowed her eyes. She could use this. She reached out and grabbed a fist-sized rock. She could smash the ring. Or…
A plan grew in her mind. Working quickly, she cleared a space in the middle of the rubble, then piled a few of the rocks over her legs in a loose pyramid. Lying down, she turned to the tunnel the alien guard patrolled and listened. She heard him coming.
Here goes everything.
“Help,” she called. Her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat and tried again, this time louder. “Help!”
Her reward was a pounding of footsteps. Mel lay her head on the ground. When the alien burst back into the room, he blinked at the sight of Mel writhing in pain under what appeared to be a cave-in. For a second, their eyes met, and Mel felt a nibble of guilt at the concern in his eyes.
“M-my leg,” she groaned. “Please help!”
Jenna would pee herself laughing at this terrible performance.
It didn’t matter what Jenna would think because her theatrical skills were enough to send the alien rushing to her side. Crouching down, he brushed a hand over her hand, a gesture of calming, and Mel swallowed back her surprise at the kindness.
The weapon slung over his shoulder slipped down, and he shrugged it off, tossing it to the floor a few feet away. Hope blossomed in Mel’s chest. Oh, yes, keep going, baby!
Mel kept her head down, letting her hair cover her face. She bit her lip to keep away the grin threatening to explode and groaned for good measure.
He’s buying it!
The alien moved down her body to examine her legs. Mel’s fingers curled around a rock. He was smarter than he looked, because within a second or two, his body stiffened. When he turned his face back to Mel, she was ready for him.
With all her might, she swung the rock at his forehead. Her meek behavior paid off because he wasn’t expecting the attack. He grunted as the stone hit the side of his face and he fell back.
Mel threw the stone at him and kicked off the rubble on her legs. She scrambled across the floor. The chain rattled as it dragged, but Mel had grown accustomed to its weight. A few short feet away, the alien’s weapon gleamed, a beacon of hope calling Mel.
The alien recovered quickly. He grabbed her ankle before she got far, and she shrieked. She rolled and kicked back with her free leg. Her sneaker caught him across the jaw, and he grunted, loosening his grip.
Mel dragged herself across to the weapon and snatched it up in triumph. She had observed Mr. Nice Guy when he carried it. The silver tube was heavier than she anticipated, despite being the length of an umbrella and the thickness of a water bottle. The surface was smooth, save for a notch about two thirds of the way down into which her fingers fit. From the way the alien held it, she assumed that was the trigger.
She knew which end to point at the enemy. She fumbled for a second, and when she whipped around to face the alien, she had him on the dangerous end.
“Hah!”
She expected him to be right behind her, but he remained sprawled on the ground, where he stared up at her with a furrowed brow. He tilted his head and his fingers rubbed his jaw where the rock had connected. His movements were slow and languid, and he didn’t seem to understand the severity of his situation.
Did I knock the sense out of him, or is he just stupid?
“Stand up!” Mel snapped. He studied her for a moment. When he placed his hand on the ground to push up, she shook her head. “No, stay down!”
He sank back down and crossed his arms over his knees. His ruby eyes studied her, and Mel felt her face grow hot. Though his face remained neutral, she got the sense that he mocked her. It was enough to make her want to kick in his teeth.
“One false move, and I’ll blast you,” she snarled, trying to put as much menace into the words as she could. The alien blinked a few times and stared at the weapon in her hands. She waved it at him. “Don’t even think about it, bud.”
She waited for a reply, but he seemed content to stare at her with those weird eyes. She licked her lips and shifted her weight.
“Do you understand me?” she said.
He narrowed those inscrutable eyes. “Yes,” he said. His voice was reminiscent of the quakes, rumbling and deep. In fact, sitting so still, he resembled a boulder.
“Good,” Mel said. When the frog-like aliens had captured her, she had awoken with a pain behind her ear and the ability to understand them. The translator device murmured a translation, turning alien speech into a form she understood. It seemed Mr. Nice Guy had th
e same ability.
“This is what is going to happen,” she continued. “You are going to free me and I am getting the hell out of here. Got it?”
She could see his brain working. His eyes flicked around the cavern. Gosh, he’s dumb. She bit back her irritation.
“Got it?” she repeated. “Understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Undo these chains.” She stuck her leg out, and shook it, making the chain rattle. “And no funny business, see?”
She bit back a nervous giggle. I sound like every bad gangster movie I’ve ever watched.
He dropped his head to his chest for a minute, then grunted. The words he muttered were too low for Mel to make out. Under her palm, the metal of the gun grew slick with sweat. He rolled to his feet, and approached her, his hands held out, palms facing her.
Against the image she wanted to project, Mel stepped back as he approached. A few feet away, he dropped to one knee and patted the other.
“What?” Mel said.
He patted his knee again. “Place your foot here.”
“No, you bend down.”
The alien sighed and cocked his head. “The lock is situated on the inside of the shackle. Do you want me between your legs?”
Mel flushed. “No!”
Cautiously, she stepped forward, and set her right foot on his knee while keeping the rest of her body as far back as possible. He grasped her ankle to turn her foot, pointing her toe outward. Even though the fabric, she could feel the firmness of his grip. With his free hand, he reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a flat metal rectangle the size of a credit card. He tapped it to the shackle, and with a snap, it unlocked.
As the chain clattered to the ground, Mel jumped back, keeping the gun trained on the alien. With the chain gone, she felt as light as a bird.
A bird who’s about to fly this coop.
She spoke without thinking. “Thanks.” When the realization hit her, she scowled.
“You are free,” he said. “Now what of me?”
“You?” She hitched her weapon higher. “You’re the guy who’s gonna get me off this planet.”
CHAPTER THREE
JAHLE
It was too much.
She was so fiercely adorable that he wanted to reach out and pet her head like a proud teacher. The rock had landed right where his brother just struck him. It was a weak blow, but she hit where it counted, and in a fight, that alone mattered.
He tried to hold back his amusement as she waved around the sonar evaluator. She believes it is a weapon.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to laugh. The look of desperation in her eye gave him pause. Even though she did not know the object in her hands was harmless, she was fully prepared to shoot him. She would kill to achieve her goals. He thought of Ketug, who had been willing to die in order to seek help for the Water People.
When did I last feel such conviction?
When she ordered him to free her, he had stopped being amused. Suddenly he was faced with a serious dilemma. He could free the human. Doing so would be the correct choice. The right choice. The honorable one, even for an honor guard who lacked the fundamental strength of character to fulfill his role.
It would also lead to her death, either by Dogan’s hand or by creatures in the wild. She was not of this world. The borebugs would feast upon her corpse. Geran had long since ceased to be a livable environment. Chained to the wall was the safest place for one as tender as the human.
She deserves a chance at freedom.
She will die.
Not if someone helps her.
With a sigh, Jahle made his choice. When he flicked open her lock with the magnetic key, she scurried back. She couldn’t hide the relief in her eyes at being rid of the shackles.
Now to convince her to take me along.
“What of me?”
“You? You’re going to help me off this planet.”
Or, he could let her figure it out herself.
He lumbered to his feet. “If I refuse?”
“Sorry, but I can’t leave you alive to sound the alarm.”
He had not had this much fun in years. Bowing his head, he hoped she would take it as a sign of submission.
“Where are the ships?” she said.
Kreebo base had a flight pad directly above the underground base. A ship waited to evacuate the remaining Ennoi Geran when the planet-wide disasters finally became too much for Kreebo to endure. Taking her there would be a matter of walking for ten minutes. Twenty minutes if they had to sneak around personnel. With their numbers low, nobody bothered to guard the ship. Not even the Water People were desperate enough to cross Dogan.
The Water People.
Dogan’s words came back to Jahle – Only way you can leave this base is if our enemies march you out at gunpoint.
He stared at the human. His brain churned.
Do I dare…
“Where are the ships?” she repeated, but this time, she spoke each word slowly, as if speaking to a deaf elder.
Where did Ketug say they were camped?
“At… Kastikan Ridge,” he replied. “Several days distance.”
“What! Impossible.” She gestured around the cavern. “I remember it was much closer.”
“That is Dogan’s personal one,” he said, his voice harsh. He didn’t like lying. It irritated him. “It will be well-guarded. You won’t get far.” When she bit her lip, he pushed on. “There is a second one, further away.”
Technically not a lie. There is a second spaceport.
“All right,” she said. “But no funny business, remember? Let’s get going.”
He cocked his head at her. “We need supplies.”
She groaned under her breath. “Fine. You go first, I’ll follow.”
As they crept their way up to the kitchen, Jahle heard the bell signaling the end of the eating hour. Over the years, the sonorous peal of a bell had degraded into a tinny jangle. He remembered his father’s pride when he told Jahle that the sound was the same as the bells on Cadam. See, son, they are no better than us.
Now they are, Jahle thought, as the bell sounded again.
The kitchen was deserted. Their footsteps echoed as they walked across the concrete floor. Long tables with benches lined the walls, a remnant of more prosperous times, when the Geran army was a mighty one. The shelves on the far wall were still lined with heavy pots, large ladles and dented metal plates and bowls. Only the plates saw use any more as they survived on dried goods.
Jahle led them to the pantry, but when he saw the door, he cursed. A heavy padlock locked the bolt in place. He grabbed the handle and tugged, but it would not budge. “Locked tight.”
The human shuffled her feet. “Well, we don’t need supplies.”
“You humans can march for days without food or water?” he said, deadpan. “How remarkable.”
Her face grew red. “On second thought, supplies would be sensible. Where is the key?”
With Akka, who would die before giving us the key.
“Not within reach,” he said.
“Okay, we jimmy the lock.” She eyed the door and raised the sonar evaluator. “I could blast it open…”
“Too loud. We could…”
“Shut up.” She scowled at him. “I’m giving the orders around here.”
He stepped back, palms up, and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. Let her stew in her frustration.
To his surprise, she didn’t. She studied the kitchen, her eyes narrow. “What we need…” she muttered.
She walked away from him, and he followed. He found her scanning the shelves of cooking equipment.
“There,” she said, pointing to a ladle. “Get me that one. And move slowly.”
Curious, he reached out and unhooked the ladle.
She hefted it, feeling its weight. “It’ll do.”
“You are making soup?”
She rolled her eyes and jerked the sonar evaluator at him, gesturing him back toward the pantry. “Ha ha. Everyone’s a comedian. Move.”
In front of the pantry door, she slid ladle’s handle into the shank of the lock, and leaned against it.
Ah, a lever. Smart.
He watched her struggle before she stepped back with a grunt. He straightened, expecting her to ask for his assistance, but she tackled the door with renewed determination. She snarled in frustration when the lever would not budge.
He gently nudged her aside and seized the ladle. He twisted the handle, putting pressure on the shank until it popped off the bolt. The lock fell, and he hooked his foot upward, catching it before it clattered to the ground. With a flick of his ankle, he sent the lock in an arc which landed it neatly in his hand.
“Fancy footwork.” She didn’t seem impressed by his actions. Her lip curled. “Let’s move.”
Inside the pantry, Jahle grabbed a pair of backpacks and then hesitated. The shelves were mostly bare. Anything he took would result in the alarm being sounded when Akka discovered the missing food. A broken lock might be blamed on a greedy guard, but missing supplies would let Dogan know he planned a long journey.
Plus, whatever I take, I will be taking from my own people’s bellies.
The guards were loyal to Dogan, but that did not mean they should starve. He picked the emergency ration bars. High in nutrition and low in taste, they were a last resort meal. The Water People needed a last resort.
He pushed the first box of bars aside and filled the bags with as many as they could hold, removing the bars from their packaging. When he was done, he slid the boxes back into place, hiding his theft.
Turning around, he caught the human staring at him. “You… never mind. What do we need next?”
Medicine.
“There is more food in another room.”
The medical room was abandoned. They’d lost their doctor several years ago. Before that doctor, Kreebo had his oldest sister. Roana had served as head medical officer. She had hoped Jahle would follow in her footsteps, and he spent countless hours playing under Roana’s desk while she handled patients.
He paused for a moment in the doorway, taking in the tattered charts on the wall, the debris covered examination table, and Roana’s chair. He closed his eyes as the depth of his loss washed over him.
