Alienation

by S E Anderson

  When I emerged from behind the curtain wearing my undergarments proudly, Tchilla made an audible hiss. I looked down. The partitions had cut off the light from the room, so it was only now that I saw the damaged state my body was in. A huge bruise graced my chest and belly, radiating so many shades of blue and purple that it could have been Blayde's hair. My stomach was littered with small pock-marks, little red bruises from where the maggot things had tried to burst their way out, before I had forced them out through my throat. My legs and hands were scratched up, but they were the least of my worries.

  Tchilla put the dress back down on the form. No, we were not going to try it on while I was in this state, her face said. As I stood in the middle of the room, quasi-naked and feeling like a train had hit me full force, she gathered help from outside. Within minutes, the woman from the staircase brought in a robot, who in turn carried a large metal basin—large enough to fit me—and they filled it with scalding water, which made steam rise and fill the room.

  I wasn't even thinking at this point. Exhaustion took over the second I admitted just how tired I was. Tchilla helped me strip entirely, peeling the bra from my skin and taking off my earrings, setting them aside for later. She held the silver with reverence. Then she led me into the water, which burned and soothed all at once. Motes of dirt rose and swirled around my limp body.

  My bra went into the fire.

  “Hey!” I shouted, though I was too tired to protest. Tchilla said nothing. Instead, she sat down on a chair, pulled out her garment basket, and sewed me a new one without a second thought. Her four hands flew over the small fabric, holding it and cutting it and stitching it all in one go.

  “Why are you here, Tchilla?” I asked, as the water reached my chin.

  “The same reason anyone comes to Maakuna: I had no choice. Now relax and get clean.”

  I took her advice and let my hair sprawl into the water. Nothing felt as good as this. Every ache and pain in my body washed away; every joint and muscle relaxed. My skin felt slimy, but a basket of what looked like soaps and sponges would see to that.

  I felt nonchalant about being nude around this stranger. She did not care, and neither did I. It was a relief to feel this comfortable around someone in this city, to have her work with me with no judgment.

  “Did my friend leave you a way to reach him?” I asked, scrubbing the muck from between my toes.

  “Yes and no,” Tchilla said. “He left me a way to signal him. Whether he sees it will be up to the stars, but I will try. I will tell him you plan on being at the mayoral palace tonight. Hopefully, he will find you there.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I replied, sinking deeper into the water. I imagined he would be worried sick by now, if he truly did care for me. But I was worried too. I was under the impression he would be on top of things a little more than he was. He promised to keep me safe, and he wasn’t doing anything like that right now. Was he really the man he claimed to be?

  “Did he tell you his name?” I asked Tchilla, and she looked up, making eye contact with me. In her hand was a beautiful, simple bra, a basket of gentle lace that dangled over her fingers. She had seven of those, I noticed, on each hand. Her arms were covered with tight metal bangles that stuck to her skin and never moved, even as she wove her many fingers through the motions of crafting.

  “He didn't need to,” she replied, her voice lowering to a whisper. “I would recognize him anywhere. I saw him as a child, you know.”

  “You what?” I slid out of the water, shocked by the sudden cold, but Tchilla returned to her work, her eyes twinkling.

  “How? When?” I asked, dumbfounded. “What happened?”

  “He did say you weren't from around here.” She chuckled. “Anyone here would know not to speak of him. The official stance is that he is a criminal, after all. Or a myth. Maybe both, depending on which version you like best. But in mine, you get handsome princes and heroic rescues.”

  “Zander?” I asked.

  “Shush,” Tchilla's face went cold. “Don't say that name so freely. But, yes, him. Him and his fireball sister. But it's a long story and not for tonight.”

  “Oh, please. I want to know.”

  She grabbed a handful of white powdery balls from a little bowl and crushed them in my hair before I could ask what she was doing. She massaged the powder into my scalp as she talked.

  “I mentioned before that I was from Meegra, but I grew up on Pyrina,” she said, her voice slipping into a tone reserved for storytelling and legends. “A planet much like this one, the home-world of the Alliance. It's beautiful: pink and orange skies any time of the day, a deep and dark ocean, and stars that still come out at night. I lived in a nice neighborhood, a place with tall trees lining the streets and fresh markets every day of the week.”

  “Why did you leave, if you liked it so much?”

  “Reasons.” Tchilla gave a sharp push with both thumbs on the nape of my neck. “Now, hush. You want the story, right? Well, it just so happens that when you live in a nice neighborhood in the capital planet of the largest alliance in the known universe, you might just get held hostage by terrorists. They came down one day, falling from the sky and taking the entire block as their own. They wanted money or something. It wasn't even all that special. We were told that if we stayed inside, we would not be harmed, but they cut off water, electricity, everything. We were adrift and alone.

  “And then one day, we weren't.

  “One morning, after about a week of being locked up on my floor with my parents, there was no one left on the streets to keep us trapped inside. No one knew if it was safe, but I didn't care. I was a child, you understand. I snuck out while they were debating the relative safety of trying the outside world.

  “And it was safe. The streets were empty, but I stuck to the shadows. Hold on,” she said, pushing on my head. I dunked instinctively, rinsing my hair in one swift move. When I brought it back up, she combed it, removing the water with an occasional pat of a towel.

  “Zander got rid of them?” I asked.

  “You've really got to work on your patience,” Tchilla chided. “We're not there yet. But, anyway, I turned a corner, and someone grabbed me. Completely out of the red. He had his hand over my mouth before I could say anything. ‘Stay quiet, and nothing will happen to you,’ he said. ‘Who did this? Who's in on it?’

  “I had no idea what he was talking about. He was jittery, and sounded panicked and paranoid. I knew something had happened, but I didn't know what.

  “And that's when your friend appeared. I was out of the stranger's grasp as quickly as I had gotten into it. Your friend had the terrorist on the ground, stunned, before I knew what was even happening. And he looked at me. That face, I could never forget it. I knew who he was. We had all heard stories, seen the wanted posters. This was centuries ago, you see. People back then knew he existed, though they had no idea what he was. I knew, though. He was a hero.

  “And then he spoke. It was odd, unprepared. He blurted ‘Um, stay in school?’ before his sister turned the corner hair ablaze—I mean quite literally on fire—and the two of them disappeared.”

  “Wait, how long ago was this?” I asked, my words tumbling from numb lips.

  “Oh, years and years ago.” Tchilla tugged the knots out of my hair, a little harsher than I would have liked. “The official report was that our own troops liberated the street that morning, but I knew the truth. The heavy lifting had been done for them. The siblings weren't criminals; they were heroes. So, when I was old enough, I left and came here. I couldn't stay there anymore, knowing what had happened there.”

  Zander was centuries old, a fact I had somehow known all along, but it something that had never registered in my brain. I remembered the stories I had heard, from aliens who all knew his name but told a different tale. Was he the same Zander from them all? The criminal centuries ago, maybe the myth from millennia before?”

  I shivered. Tchilla stopped combing for a beat, then resumed just as quickly
.

  I knew Zander was immortal. I had seen him die and come back to life as if that had been nothing. I knew that time was messed up for him. I had waited two years for him to return, only for him to tell me it hadn't been more than a week. But it had never resonated with me what that could actually mean.

  Just how old was he?

  “Come on, time to get out,” said Tchilla. “We're not going to have enough time to get you ready, otherwise.”

  I stepped out of the basin, letting her towel me off. She passed the fluffy mass to me as she turned back to her basket, handing me my new undergarments, which were heavenly light. Finally the gown, which she traded for the towel so I could put it on.

  With her extra fingers and hands, she stitched me in in just a few seconds, stitching and adjusting like none of it was any trouble. It was snug—snugger than I liked—around the belly and bust, but wide around the hips and legs, meaning I could walk fine in it, just not very quickly or I'd be out of breath in just a few steps.

  Tchilla was a talented seamstress. I studied my reflection in the basin, surprised at just how flattering the gown was. In all the excitement, I hadn't realized that I was wearing a handmade, designer dress to some once-in-a-lifetime alien bash.

  “Done,” she said, as she helped me put my silver earrings back on. “I suppose Maakuna will have other convincing jewelry for you to wear tonight. Now, if things get hairy, I have stitched a little pocket in the gown, on your left hip, where I may or may not have slipped a few smoke pellets. They're very thick, so if you need to use them, toss them away from you and hold your breath. Then run like hell. Do you understand me?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “Good,” she replied. “Your audio device is in the other pocket, on your right hip. They're going to want me gone, now. I will try to relay your location to, well, him. Good luck, Sally.”

  It was as if she had heard them coming. The door to the room flew open and in came the same people who had brought in my bath. Now they were here to take it away, along with the dress form, the basket, and everything that had made this room a dressing room.

  Sonota had joined them and dragged Tchilla away without a word. He touched her on the shoulder, leading her away. She did not fight it, nor did I. But I watched her leave, clutching my fists under the fabric of my skirts.

  And then they were gone. I was left alone in the room, wearing a gown far too fancy for me, my feet bare beneath it, practically shaking as I tried to compartmentalize the thoughts in my brain.

  Zander was looking for me.

  Zander was old, way old.

  And I was going on a mission for the mob that was highly, highly illegal and would probably get me killed.

  But, hey, my dress was swishy. I turned back and forth, playing with the lag in the fabric. Anything to distract from the existential dread of it all. Adding anything more to the fact that I was on an alien planet with no way off it wasn't going to make me feel any better.

  If anything, it would make everything a whole lot worse.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Heist Planning 101

  I had half expected them to come for me right away, but instead, I sat in the room, waiting, as absolutely nothing at all happened.

  Had they forgotten about me? I made my way to the door and tried the handle. No, it was definitely locked. I grunted in annoyance. I really didn't like this.

  I turned back to the fake-real fire, staring into it. The underwire of my last bra was sitting there, gently melting in the ash. My last remnant of Earth.

  Where had my clothes gone? I searched the room. Had Tchilla tossed them too? I felt a pang of sadness at the thought of losing my Chucks. I’d had them since high school. They had been there for me when John died, when I had run Zander over with my car, when I had been abducted, and now, through the streets of a murky alien city. They were only shoes, but it was like another link to Earth had just been snapped.

  It physically hurt.

  I jumped when I heard a knock at the door. Someone was finally here for me. But then I caught myself. They had knocked. This wasn't Itzi or Sonata. This was someone else.

  Could it be Zander, so soon? My heart fluttered then fell. That was far too unlikely … and knowing him, he would probably abscond through the window. Tchilla, then, coming back to pick up something she forgot? Also, highly unlikely, seeing how empty this room was.

  But the person did not wait for me to answer their knock. They pushed the door open, popping their head inside, and there was Mal, black Sharpie marks on his face and all.

  “Sally?” he said, beaming.

  “My god, Mal!” I replied, rushing to him. “You're alive!”

  “Of course I'm alive,” he scoffed. “Why under the stars wouldn't I be?”

  “Because Maakuna ... no matter. I thought he was different. I'm glad to see you're all right.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Same goes for you.”

  “And Pox? Qee?”

  “I drove them home. They weren't feeling all that good. I'd blame it on our lunch, but, you know, not everyone has the stomach to do what's right.”

  “United for the Theosian cause,” I muttered.

  “The what, now?”

  “The ... Downdwellers. The original race that lived here, the ones relegated to the Undercity? You know, the ones you're trying to help?”

  “Wait, they're another species?” Mal stepped back. “Shit! I thought they were just people who had got stuck down there!”

  “Um, nope. And they can create fire. They’re Elementals.”

  “Now you're just poking my nose.”

  “You're seriously telling me you didn't know? You have no idea who you're helping?”

  “We're just trying to do a good deed,” he said, making his way closer to the fire. Tchilla's stool was there, and he sat, patting the space next to him. It was far too small for me, so I stood. I wasn't very happy with him, anyway. I might have been glad he hadn't been executed, but I wasn't sure I liked him all that much.

  “You look beautiful, Sally,” he said, his eyes drawing wide as his voice lightened. I felt the heat rise to my face. I had not expected a compliment, and certainly not from him, this kid. Although, was he a child? The Sharpie made it hard to tell. He could have been my age, another young adult taking to the stars.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “You look tense.”

  “I'm fine,” I lied, stepping close to the fire, holding the hem of my skirt to keep it from the flames. It kept my hands from fidgeting.

  “You say you're from a place called ... Earth?” he said, making conversation. I nodded slowly. “Have you ever been with an alien before?”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, startled. Of all the things he could have said right then, I had not expected that. I guess it would be best for me to stop expecting anything anymore. I dropped the skirt then grabbed it again, stepping away from the fire before it became any more of a hazard.

  “I mean, have you slept with anyone who's not from your planet before?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Ever tasted the stars?”

  “Um, no. And I don't want to, if you're offering.”

  “But I'm curious,” he said, getting back up. “We're all human, but we're not. Not really, you know? Not the same kind of human, at least. Every one of us is slightly different: different parts, different pieces, different … sensations.”

  I felt vomit rising, and I gagged it back down. My hands tightened into fists on my skirt. “I said no, thank you.”

  “But aren't you the least bit curious?” he urged, stepping closer. I could smell him now, his breath like an overripe peach. “Don't you want to know a different species? I’d sure enjoy the challenge. I've tried thirty-two different kinds, and they've each been fun. I'm sure you would be, too. Care to be my thirty-third? Lucky double number!”

  “But ... you're a kid!” I sputtered, not knowing which part of that sentence disgusted me the most.

  “I'm two hundred and three.
Come on, I know you want me just as much as I want you. I saw you looking at me, back in the van.”

  “I'm not interested,” I snapped, stepping back, feeling the wall press against me. Damn. Not where I wanted to be.

  “But there's no risk.” He sniggered. “No compatibility, you see?”

  “Oh, I'm sure Kirk is just crawling with alien STDs,” I pointed out. Mal looked confused.

  “What did you say about Kirk?”

  I shook my head.

  He was starting to smell now, a weird, sweet scent, like someone had dropped a bottle of rose oil over him and set him out in the sun. Part of me was warming up to the idea, the hint of curiosity that had tugged at my brain from when puberty and science fiction had hit at once. Wondering what it might be like. If we all worked the same, if we could ...

  No. One day, maybe, but not with him. Not with this pushy, two-century old kid creeping me out and, I think, trying to win me over with … were those pheromones? And they were working, too. I wondered if his seduction tactics were legal on this planet.

  “Sorry, I ramble like that when I'm mad. And right now, I'm pretty pissed. I said no, so please stop.”

  I ran my hands along the wall behind me, hoping for a way out, but I was stuck. He had me pinned, and he was stepping closer.

  “Come on, you're just tense.” He reached a hand out to me, taking a strand of my hair in his mouth. And then, he began to chew.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I snapped, ripping my hair away from him, leaving a substantial chunk between his teeth. Ow, that hurt. My scalp was on fire, but I bit down hard on my molars and stifled my cry.

  “Not doing anything for ya?” He sniggered. “That's all right. Everyone's turned on by something different. Just let me find what works.”

  He reached out for me again, and something dark kicked in. With a yelp, I grabbed his arm, twisted it behind him, and tossed him away from me. He turned and came right at me, livid, and that's when my fist collided with his nose.