Alienation

by S E Anderson

  “I did good?” Mal asked, practically begging for approval.

  “You did fantastic, young Mal.” The creature beamed. “Congratulations. You deserve a reward. Itzi will see to you.”

  “Really?” Mal’s face lit up. “Awesome. Is that it?”

  “Yes, yes.” The stranger waved a thick hand at him, limply. “I'm a man of my word, I'll give you that. We're finished here. I no longer need your services. You and your friends will be ... taken care of.”

  Mal was practically glowing, but I clenched my fists, knowing what was coming. I half expected bullets to emanate from this very room. But Mal walked out freely, alive, and probably into a trap.

  I would have run then, if I could. I wanted to storm out that door, screaming, because this was not what I signed up for. Then again, what had I expected, signing up for a coup?

  I tried not to make eye contact with the Oexasie, but it took up most of my field of vision and looking away wasn't going to help my situation.

  “I’m impressed,” said the Oexasie. “It takes guts to return to the scene of the crime, especially without your … infamous escort. How did the Theosians find you?”

  “My escort dumped me,” I replied, trying to keep my chin high. “Literally.”

  The Oexasie laughed, letting out a resonating sound that could have been him choking. His breath smelled almost as bad as the Beast in the Undercity. Maybe they were cousins.

  “If I had known I could catch the great Zander by simply hanging up his coat, I would have set a trap ages ago,” he said, his mouth distorted into what could have been a grin. “So, does this mean the siblings have returned?”

  “I have no idea,” I lied. “I was a convenience for them. They left me the second they were able to.”

  “Left you to fend for yourself in the Undercity. How pleasant. What makes a woman like you want to help the miserables downstairs? You don't look like a Downdweller.”

  “You don't look like someone who cares about them.”

  He slapped the arm of the chair, and the room flickered out of existence. For a split-second, I stood in something brilliantly white and over-lit, like an operating room. The man laughed and slapped the chair again. The room returned to its old, haggard look. An illusion.

  “I doubt you care either,” he scoffed. “Tell me, why are you here?”

  “What do you expect?” I said, trying to play along. “I was a Downdweller for a day, and I don't want to be one for much longer.”

  “I can understand that.” He nodded. “I have heard of the way they live down there, in their own squalor and filth. They are nothing. You deserve more.”

  So, he hadn't been down there either. No one had. I guess what Tam had said was right: Once you went down, you never came back up. Ever.

  Still, I felt oddly gross, and I wasn't sure why. Maybe I was just disgusted by the people who were my only ticket out of there. I shuddered-I was doing a lot of that lately.

  “They deserve more,” I said. “If I can help, even in a small way, I think I will. For justice.”

  “Oh?” he replied, his eyes growing wide. “You think it's justice, bringing their people into a world where they'll be mistreated? Where they will be on the same level as mindless automatons?”

  “It's one step closer to equal rights,” I told him, sternly, half believing my own words.

  “Equal?” He laughed yet again, his mouth opening wide, breathing pungent air into my face. “I like your naivety, girl. Sit down.” He pointed to the armchair across from him.

  “No, thank you. I would prefer to remain standing.”

  He laughed. “I like you more and more. But please, sit down before I have someone shoot your head off. You know I can.”

  “Actually, I don't.” I shrugged. “I have no idea who you are.”

  He stopped laughing suddenly. He stared at me, as if trying to take me in in one gaze, staring like I had stepped out of a UFO and claimed his world as my own. His bizarre, lizard-like eyes blinked rapidly.

  “Oh?” he said. “Don’t you, now?”

  “Not a clue.”

  My heart pounded. This was new. All this blathering to save my own hide was sinking me deeper into this pit of trouble. I wondered, mildly, when this defense mechanism became a part of my personality. Was it when Grisham had turned into a hellbeast? Probably. That stuff had messed me up.

  Or maybe it was the moment I had realized that my chances of going home were getting slimmer by the second. Or that Zander wasn't coming to my rescue, so I had to throw everything I could at this fire and hope it would die down eventually.

  “You're not from around here,” the man said, doubtfully. I nodded. “So, where? Border planets? Outer rim?”

  “Unclaimed territory. Outside of Alliance control.”

  He let out a low clicking noise I took to be the equivalent of an impressed whistle.

  “Well, then, you're a long way from home.” He sniggered. “Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Maakuna Ik’Imo’No, fifth of my name,” he said, as if still expecting his name to instill some kind of terror. Not a chance. I couldn't care less. I didn't know it when Mal had said his name in the car, and I didn't know it now.

  But I think I was going to.

  “You're rather insolent, I take it,” he said.

  “And you seem pretty nefarious. I think that makes us even.”

  His face went cold. “Don't for a second believe you are on equal standing with me, girl. You are here because I wish it. And I might not want you around all that long.”

  “I'll be gone as soon as this is over,” I insisted. “That's the point, after all. If you still have a mission for me to do, that is. It doesn't sound like the Downdwellers are in on your full plan.”

  “Listen, kid,” he snapped. “You really think I care for those ... creatures? I've got better things to do than dwell on petty civil rights.”

  He waved his hand and a woman walked in, her dress a plastic sheet that only barely covered her rear. She stuck an orange stub in his mouth, lit it, and rushed out of the room in a polite trot as Maakuna watched. He took a deep, relaxing puff, blowing the smoke in my direction. I tried not to breathe it in, but I couldn’t help but notice it smelled like pond water.

  “So why are you even dealing with them?” I asked.

  “You're an interesting specimen,” he said, taking another puff of his cigar-looking thing. “Up from nothing, come from nowhere, and yet you expect me to tell you everything.”

  “I expect you to let me know what I’m getting into,” I said, realizing I was pushing it too far and yet incapable of stopping. “I need to know what I am doing if I'm expected to do it well.”

  He puffed the smoke in my face again, this time giving me no time to prepare. My body screamed for me to breathe, but I held my own, refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing me flinch.

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “You're going through with tonight whether you like it or not, so what comes afterward is up to you. You perform poorly, and it's your own ass on the line.”

  “What comes afterward?”

  “Ah, ah, ah!” He waggled a slug-like finger back and forth. “I keep no secrets from my family. On the other hand, I have no reason to tell you anything.”

  “Not that I would understand, right?”

  He nodded. “Exactly. Nothing a small human girl like you would understand. Leave it to the slugs.”

  “Oh, yes, I understood that quite clearly,” I said, going with it. I sat in the armchair like he had asked me to, leaning on my arm childishly. “Nothing a humanitarian like me would get, one who joins a team of losers to ease her guilt of her own upper-class privilege.”

  “Precisely,” he said, taking a long puff of his cigar.

  “Nothing a dummy like me would understand. A clumsy girl. I might even slip up tonight, I'm so incompetent.”

  He perked up at this. “If you mess this up, I'll have you killed.”

  “I wouldn't doubt it, sir. I know you'
re capable of that,” I said. “But wouldn't that be done by someone else if they caught me? I'll denounce anyone to save my own skin.”

  “You have no idea how big this operation is.”

  “Oh, yes, I have no idea.” I grinned now, tilting my head provocatively. “I'm just afraid I'll mess up tonight.”

  “You won't mess up.” A command.

  “Not if I know what's at stake. I mean, if I knew what would happen if I messed up ... I know the codes won't shut the robots down, you practically said so yourself. What if it makes them blow up? I could turn your whole operation in rather than getting arrested for something I didn't know I was even doing.”

  He grunted. “You want the truth?”

  I gave him a curt nod. “Maybe if the stakes were clear, I wouldn't slip up.”

  “Have it your way,” he said monotonously. He puffed out another cloud of smoke, and I breathed it in, ignoring my burning throat. “You heard right, the codes won't shut down the robots. Quite the contrary: they weaponize them.”

  I let out a fake gasp. I wasn't all that surprised, if the mob was involved. “But, why?”

  “After the robots are under our control”—Maakuna paused for effect—“the population will be under our control.”

  “What would you do with them?” I asked. “I mean, I hear many people talking about 'taking over,' but what would you do when you're in charge?”

  “Simple,” he said, and I realized he didn't care about what he was telling me. He probably thought I wouldn’t come out of this alive, one way or another. This time, I stopped myself from shuddering before the shiver came out. “The robots won't come out with guns or anything. No, that would be too messy. This is one of the biggest cities in the Planetary Alliance; people come here to shop and eat. We raise the shopping taxes, slowly, pushing the prices up ever so slightly. The government won't even notice. They don't track the bots. They're too well-programmed to ever mess up. The extra money gets funneled to us. It's that simple. The Downdwellers will think the plan failed and go back to living their miserable lives, and no one gets hurt.”

  This whole plan was becoming more insane by the minute. Was this how other people operated on these planets? Maybe it’s true what they say: The universe is a big, chaotic place. Earth was no exception, sure, but I was used to that strangeness, mostly.

  “So, even if I get caught”—I forced myself not to roll my eyes—“nothing will be wrong to start with?”

  “That's right: No one will even know.” He chortled.

  “That's a relief.” I gave a fake sigh. Internally, though, I didn't have a clue what was going on. His plan sounded just as ridiculous as the one he had fed the Theosians, maybe even more so.

  “But if you do get caught,” he continued, “make no mistake, the Alliance will hide you away where no one can find you, chip or no chip. And if you mess up in any way at all, even slightly, I'm sending you back to the Downdwellers for the rest of your miserable life. Understood?”

  I nodded quickly, knowing full well his threats were legitimate. He probably had hands in the police, and I would end up in the Undercity in mere seconds; that was, however, if I didn't find Zander first. And I had to find Zander first.

  “Why me?” I asked, my veins running thick with fear. “Why not some random woman. There are probably people who want—”

  “None are desperate enough.”

  “And what makes you think I'm desperate?”

  “Because,” Maakuna waved his short arms feebly, “it's this or the Undercity. And I don't think you're ready to resign just yet. I'd say you're desperate enough, desperate enough for me to know you won't fail, whatever you say. You don't want to go back down there. And don't give me that look. You can claim to want to help the Downdwellers’ cause because you believe in it, but make no mistake, you're like me. You're in it for yourself. Not to mention, you don't exist.”

  “Because they deleted me from their systems?”

  “Exactly. When you fell,” he explained, despite me having made it clear I knew this bit, “any record they had of you was wiped. And you weren’t from the Alliance to begin with. You can go anywhere undetected. If you get caught, you can scream and cry all you want, but they're never going to connect you with me. Anyway, what was your name again?”

  “Sally,” I replied. “Sally We—"

  “Well, Sally.” He handed me a note, with numbers scribbled on it. “You need to memorize this map.”

  “What?”

  “The plan is simple,” said Maakuna, slowly, as if I wouldn't understand. “You're going to the ball. You'll mingle with the crowd, and then you'll break into the palace. Be casual. Try not to attract the attention of the Travoshella. Then, you'll enter the commands into the ICP. And that's it. No harm done. You can leave and never see any of us again. Easy. But you have to blend in, and there's no way you'll do that with what you’re wearing now. Get this layout memorized, and then it's straight to hair and makeup.”

  My knees wobbled, leaving me unable to speak, while trying to ignore the creature's sharp glare and desperately figure out how to change this situation to suit my own needs: finding Zander again.

  But would he still be here?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Weirdest Bath of My Life

  Itzi and Sonota came to find me soon after that.

  Maakuna was tired of me and waved me away. I would never see him again. For that, I was eternally grateful. I was sure if Zander's offer of wiping my memory still stood, I would use it on my memories of Maakuna; his ugly face would haunt my nightmares for years to come.

  Sonota smirked, as he led me through the house, his partner picking up the rear. “The boss man likes you.”

  “It didn't seem that way,” I said, trying to ignore the sailing patterns on his head. It was probably just as rude to stare on this planet, not that it stopped people from doing it.

  The two of them grinned, as if they were in on a private joke. Whatever it was, I was glad I wasn’t in on it. I didn't want to know what those two found funny.

  We left the living room, Sonota ahead of me and Itzi behind, following the twisting hallways out and about in a direction we hadn't gone before. I wondered just how large this house was before we ran back into the stairs we had passed earlier, the one with the woman who’d glared. This time, though, she and her triple bosom were nowhere to be found.

  They led me up the stairs, one, two, three whole floors until we were in another identical hallway, only this one had blue trim rather than red. Small differences that made no difference. How many of these rooms were illusions, I did not know, but it explained how they could clean up so quickly after the mess Blayde had left. I followed the men down the corridor until we reached a door like any other, which they opened without knocking.

  Inside, the room was warm and inviting. A fake fire burned and churned in a small chimney, giving off a red glow and basking the room in real heat. The woman in there was setting up a mannequin, tossing a gold-yellow gown over it and pinning it in place. She turned as she heard us enter.

  “Ah, it's you,” she said, nodding at my two escorts. “I suppose this is the girl?”

  Her eyes fell on mine, and in the same instant we both understood. We had seen each other before. She had been above, at the Da-Duhui plaza. Tchilla.

  She had sold me the dress that I had—where was it now? Either with Zander or lost in the fall. In any case, she was the woman who had fitted me, the one who could dress anyone, any life form.

  Why was she doing work for the mob?

  If she knew who I was, she said nothing to the men, but I could tell she recognized me and that she knew I recognized her. Her spider eyes sparkled and gleamed black as they met mine. Thankfully, she kept her mouth shut for the both of us.

  “All right you two,” Sonota said, giving me a sharp push into the room. “You don't have much time. I'd suggest you get to work, but that goes without saying.”

  Tchilla and I both nodded. That was all my
guards needed, and they left. Itzi shut the door behind him. It would be a safe bet to assume it was now locked.

  The woman and I stared at each other for a hot minute, taking in the familiarity of each other's faces combined with the weirdness of meeting here, of all places. Finally, she stepped forward to touch my face. A strange act from an almost stranger.

  “I’ve sold you a dress before, haven't I?” she said, her voice almost a mutter as she slipped a lock of my hair behind my ear. She was a small woman, shorter than me, not exactly human, and, yet, not exactly ... not. Her proportions seemed off, and it wasn't the extra pair of arms that made it look so. The turban was off now. Her hair was so gray it was almost blue, and her skin was so wrinkled it reminded me of Chinese paper.

  “Yesterday,” I replied, hushed and rushed. “Or two days ago. I don't know anymore. How do you remember me? You must have hundreds of customers. I was just a face in the crowd.”

  “The man you were with,” she explained, speaking quickly, “he came to me, searching for you. He said you were lost. He wanted my help finding you. I had nothing to say.”

  My heart leaped. Zander was searching for me. He was still here, still looking. He wasn't giving up, and neither was I. I would get through this. I was going to go home.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, indicating, well, everything, with a sweep of her four arms.

  “I fell into the Undercity. That Maakuna guy promised the Downdwellers a way out in exchange for me crashing a party tonight. It's been weird.”

  “And you're all right?” she asked, smoothing my hair down yet again. “No one has hurt you?”

  “I've got a few scrapes and bruises, but I'll manage.” I heaved a sigh of relief. Speaking to her was like unloading huge weights off my back. She clasped my shoulders tightly.

  “Your name, girl?” she urged.

  “Sally,” I said. “Sally Webber. From Earth.”

  “Tchilla,” she replied. “Tchilla from Meegra. I'm going to get you out of here.”

  She ushered me to the curtain draped across part of the room, and I understood she wanted me to get changed. I slipped behind it and took everything off. The t-shirt and jeans had become stiff as cardboard after the muck they had been through. I had to practically peel them off my skin.