Not of This World

by Tracy St. John

  He imagined Arga found him ridiculous as he hummed calming noises and petted her long hair. Patches of it were silky, like the magnificent nikwen that roamed in herds on the distant plains, but much of it was matted and tangled. Monsudan created or not, she’d been living wild for several days. She needed a good washing and grooming. He wrinkled his nose. Maybe it would help the somewhat unpleasant odor coming from her too.

  To Kren’s surprise, Arga joined in the attempt to quiet the Tysu. His partner awkwardly patted her shoulder and said, “Easy. Easy,” in a rough voice. “Don’t cry, little pretty. We’re not going to hurt you.”

  Arga tended to put on a tough front, but he treated the Tysu with nervous care. Kren tried to not smile, and succeeded for the most part, but Arga noticed his amusement and shrugged. “Laugh, but I know you feel the same as I do.”

  “Like the world’s biggest jerk for scaring her? Yeah. If we could get away with it, I’d set her loose. But if she’s of Monsudan origin—”

  “Contain and destroy.” Arga stopped and grimaced sickly at the female as she glanced up at him and blinked free the last of her tears as she ceased trying to wrench free. “Poor critter. At least she responds to kindness.”

  “Let’s go before I do something to make you bring me in on charges.” Kren swung the Tysu up and cradled her. He turned toward the path that would take him to his dartwing.

  “Forget it. They’d put me in charge and I refuse to handle that kind of responsibility.” Arga went ahead of Kren, pushing back the foliage to clear the way so the Tysu wouldn’t get scratched up any worse than she already was.

  Kren again smothered an instance of humor. Arga loved to claim he had no interest in being accountable, but he was the first to charge into a situation. Kren always sought his counsel and never worried if he had to put his partner in charge of anything. Well, except for those few months when Arga had been inconsolable over his old guardian’s disappearance. However, his friend had been as reliable as ever once the grief eased.

  Kren followed Arga through the dense woods. They were almost to the edge of the tree line when the Tysu, light as air in his arms, burrowed her face against his chest. Like a child begging for comfort, she snuffled and rubbed her cheek against the leathery thickness of his flesh.

  Arga had turned when Kren halted, his expression pitying as he watched the girl-creature huddle. Then his eyes widened as Kren’s breast rippled and he softened his skin to match the Tysu’s for softness. She moaned and pressed her face between the swells of his pectoral muscles.

  Arga’s voice filled with warning. “Kren—”

  “I know, I know.” Kren started walking again, feeling the wet warmth of renewed tears coming from the Tysu. “She could bite. She could be venomous. If she kills me, you can gloat.”

  Arga grimaced a reproach. “I would never do that. Just keep an eye on her, okay?”

  Kren couldn’t have not looked at that tiny body if he’d wanted to. She fit in his arms so well, draping as sweetly as the best-spun cloth to dress his bed.

  He gave himself a little shake. He did not want to be thinking of his bed, not while holding this strange and yet similar female. He was being stupid. She could be Monsudan.

  Yet she showed no sign of aggression. She lay against him, her attitude that of someone who was tired, lost, and without hope.

  They reached the dartwings. Kren climbed in, squeezing himself into the tight confines and settling the Tysu in his lap. They were crammed in, but it seemed crueler to put her in the captive cargo area in the craft’s underbelly. She gawped around, her attitude again fearful. With the flex strapping holding her tight, she didn’t bother to struggle. She gave him a look that seemed downright reproachful, as if to say, Why are you doing this to me?

  Kren didn’t attribute that kind of intelligence to her, but he squirmed inwardly all the same. Sometimes the animals on his farm gave him that expression, especially on days when the weather didn’t allow them to graze the pasture. The beasts were dumb, but they had managed to figure out how to make a man feel bad with sad, soulful eyes.

  She jerked when he strapped his oversized helmet on her head. Kren reinforced his skull armor and slid a pair of goggles over his eyes to keep anything from blowing into them. Then he lifted off, prompting the Tysu to cringe against him. He made all of his body pliant so she wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.

  They flew into the deepening night. Kren kept expecting his prisoner to start up that ear-piercing caterwauling once more, but she didn’t. She huddled against him, pressing deeper into his body and trembling. With night coming on, the temperature dipped steadily now. Without flesh armor, she would be cold. Kren controlled the dartwing with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her, trying to keep her warm. He set the seldom-used air blower to send warmth into the cockpit. Since the craft was open at the top, it wouldn’t mitigate all of the chill.

  She didn’t have to suffer for long, thank the All-Spirit. Within minutes they reached Hahz’s enforcement dome. Kren landed his craft in its designated spot, noting Arga alighting a few seconds later.

  Kren pushed out of the cockpit, lifting the Tysu in his arms yet again. She was definitely shivering now. He hurried to get her inside. The double doors sighed open before him, and balmy warmth bathed his soft skin.

  He stepped into the large open area where the officers of the day shift gathered, minding the small village of Hahz. Nearly half a dozen silver eyes turned his way, widening when they saw what he carried.

  Chapter Two

  Jeannie Gardner blinked at her brightly lit surroundings. Enveloping warmth thawed the cold that had begun to penetrate deep into her flesh. She strained against her bonds anew, as if they might magically liquefy or evaporate in the balmier air. Escape remained impossible, however.

  She had to settle for getting out some other way, though she saw precious little hope of that in the bizarre place her captors had taken her. There appeared to be two doors on either side of the rounded structure, including the one she’d been brought through. She couldn’t run trussed as she was—and in the unfamiliar outdoors surrounding the building, where would she go that was guaranteed to be safe?

  The new setting made her think of a massive telescope observatory. The dome overhead was constructed of curved triangles of clear glass. They showed the large planet that hung in the heavens and gave the sky an eerie light. Too high up for her to climb and break through, even if she wasn’t wrapped up in the coil the striped beings had tossed around her.

  Podium-like structures constructed of the same metallic material as the dome’s shell circled the empty center of the room. Along the curved walls, screens displayed strange symbols—possibly an alien language—as well as one that showed an overhead shot of what was obviously a landscape. There were also screens that were blank.

  It was a space that could accommodate a couple hundred people. Much of it was empty, and Jeannie wondered what kind of gatherings took place within the curved walls.

  After three weeks outside of the alien laboratories—to the best of her calculations, it had been three weeks now—she’d grown used to that unfamiliar sky with its blue planet that watched over her trials and travels. Yet she’d never seen anything resembling the pair of men who had taken her prisoner. Though their skin was smooth, they had stripes like tigers all over their bodies. Manes that made her think of zebras, spiked brushes that might have been mistaken as Mohawk hair styles but for the fact the hair grew down to between their shoulder blades.

  Now there were more than two. Four more striped men approached. Her heart thundered as they neared, but she forced herself to breathe deeply, to quiet the panic that wanted to come. She had to remain rational, to stay calm so she could survive should the situation go wrong.

  Jeannie managed to hold on to her composure enough to evaluate the creatures closing in. They scared her. Fascinated her. Their rumbling but
sibilant speech sounded bizarre, but it was not unpleasant. They didn’t come off as vicious, despite their intimidating size.

  Maybe she would be okay. The creatures were clearly intelligent. Even gentle so far, if she didn’t count the zap that had come from the one man’s electrical stick. Particularly kind was the man that held her close to his body, sharing his warmth with her chilled skin. That was another bizarre twist among hundreds in her topsy-turvy life. His flesh had started out as hard as steel and now felt every bit as pliant as hers. He smelled of the outdoors, a nice, woodsy scent. He peered down on her now, his irises as shiny as brand-new nickels with eight-pointed starburst pupils. His pointed ears moved, perking toward her as if he waited for her to tell him something particularly clever.

  If not for those weird eyes and ears, and the gold, brown and white-striped skin, his face would look human. He looked like one of those cosplayers that went to comic book conventions, a kind of tiger-zebra-superhero, perhaps. Certainly his physique ran in the hyper-masculine superhero direction.

  Holy smokes, he and the others were naked too. Naked...with no genitalia. Jeannie was relieved she wasn’t in danger of being ravished by Super Alien Dude and his friends, but a small part of her mind thought it a shame that such stunning specimens had no equipment. A very small part of her mind. Appreciation of the male form aside, she needed to get the hell out of here—wherever here was.

  The other manimals—she kept thinking of them as that, with the stripes they wore—converged on the alien holding her. Their nickel eyes were wide as they jabbered excitedly. They were various hues of browns, golds, whites, blacks, and even greens. All were striped, lending them a natural tiger-camouflage aspect. Each had pointed ears that sat on either side of their head but higher than where a human’s ears protruded from the skull. The ears were pointed, reminding Jeannie of foxes. They changed shape slightly too, sometimes scooping into cups, as if to catch every sound coming from whatever direction they pointed.

  And they were all naked. Though they appeared masculine, none of them possessed even the most vestigial hint of a sexual organ. Kneeing them in sensitive regions to make her escape was apparently out of the question.

  They gathered around the creature that held her in his—its?—arms. Their expressions looked human enough. Jeannie seemed to be a thing of curiosity to the group. One said something in a questioning tone. The manimal holding her rumbled in return, his response filled with hesitation. The questioner held out a hand, one of its three fingers pointing. Jeannie’s eyes widened as the finger elongated, stretching toward her. The creature’s hand never moved, but the finger grew until it touched her shoulder. It rubbed her skin for a moment and then retracted, returning to the same size as the other fingers. It scratched its head, its expression confused and wondering.

  Others touched tentatively. She flinched, but they didn’t hurt her. They seemed only stunned and curious. Jeannie sensed no threat, which did her overwrought nerves a lot of good. Though she was still fearful about the situation, terror no longer swamped her.

  They couldn’t be worse than the other aliens, the ones she’d escaped. Those terrible creatures had abducted her from her home in North Carolina and subjected her to awful experimentation. These manimals weren’t nearly as bad as the cold, diminutive Grays and the large, mantis-like creatures that ordered them around.

  That didn’t mean the manimals were safe, though. She feared them, unsure of what they would decide to do with her. Their teeth from the canines back appeared sharp. She wondered if they ate flesh. She wondered if she looked like food to them. Her pulse picked up speed once more.

  One of the manimals came closer. He leaned in and then drew away, his nose wrinkling. Jeannie could have almost laughed at the reaction had she not been in such a bad spot. She had to stink after being on the run for so many days. Maybe that would be enough to convince these creatures she wasn’t worth a taste.

  The creature holding her squeezed her a little. She gazed at him, and he smiled down at her. He said something, his voice soothing. His body was strong but not hard as it had been when he’d first grabbed her. Human-ish, with pliable skin. When she’d banged her fists against his chest, he’d been a wall of concrete. How was that possible?

  The one who had helped catch her patted her head and also spoke in gentle tones. The others began petting her too, speaking quietly, as if they were soothing a stray puppy they’d found.

  Could that be it? Did they think her some sort of animal? They acted more inclined to be nice than not, even though they had bound her in some sort of strange, flexible strap that wound from her chest to her knees.

  Great. With my luck they’ll put me in a zoo and charge admission.

  Still, it was better than being food. Or a lab experiment. Maybe these funny-looking fellows would even help her if they realized she was an intelligent being. Maybe they would help her get back home.

  Jeannie knew nothing of these—whatever they were. If she let them know she was as thinking as they were, they might go crazy with superstitious terror and kill her on the spot. But she was caught and not in North Carolina anymore. Jeannie wasn’t even on Earth. She’d have to take a chance.

  She’d been brave these last few weeks, braver than she’d ever known a person could be, yet it took every last mote of courage left for her to open her mouth and speak. Her heart hammered though they continued to pet and chatter to her in voices pitched for a child.

  When her lips parted and she inhaled, the one who held her caught his breath and winced. His ears folded in on themselves, much as they had before when she’d screamed, as if her despairing shriek had pained him. They sprang open when she spoke instead.

  Enunciating carefully even though it couldn’t possibly help them understand her, she said, “Hello. My name is Jeannie.”

  * * *

  Kren’s ears popped wide open. He’d expected a scream. Not that he’d blame the Tysu, not when she was surrounded by so many of them. She couldn’t know they were all charmed by her unique prettiness, made all the more adorable by how small and helpless she was. Every man tried to calm the fear in her wide eyes by petting her dirty but silky hair, soft shoulders, and funny little feet with their stubby fingers.

  They must have been overwhelming to her. That’s why when she opened her mouth, he’d expected the earlier high-pitched shriek that drove through his skull. It was a great shock to hear her make a different noise, muffled by his closed ears.

  He glanced at the others. “What was that she did?”

  Nex, the officer who had been the first of his men to touch her, stared at her with undisguised shock. “That—that had the cadence of speech.”

  “There you have it,” Bort opined. “Artificial intelligence of some sort. It’s got to be a Monsudan creation.”

  “Maybe it’s not Monsudan,” Nex challenged. He’d been the most determined to refute the need to destroy their odd find. “It didn’t sound like their language.”

  Kren stared into the Tysu’s face. She returned the look, her attitude that of fearful waiting. He couldn’t help the jab of hope in his gut. “Could she possibly be sentient?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Translator online.”

  He’d reacted just in time because the Tysu chose that moment to speak again. Her voice was soft and lilting. The sounds she made were deliberate and repetitive. “Jee-nee. Jee-nee.”

  She kept saying the same thing. Her hands, pinned to her thighs, wriggled. She closed all her fingers except the ones closest to her thumbs. She tapped them against her legs. “Jee-nee. Jee-nee. Mah nayme iz Jee-nee.”

  The translator spoke from speakers on the curved walls, its electronic voice slightly buzzing. “Language unknown. Unable to translate.”

  Bort blinked, his earlier suspicion wavering. “It’s not Monsudan. Even if it spoke a derivative of their language, the translator would know it.”

  Kren’s
surge of hope grew larger. He looked at those insistently tapping fingers. “Arga, take the flex strap off. I think part of her communication might include hand signals. She’s trying to tell us something.”

  Arga paused before obeying Kren’s order. “Everyone, armor up. She doesn’t seem to have any offensive capabilities, but we shouldn’t take chances.”

  Kren didn’t protest, though he thought armoring skin was overdoing it. His instincts said this was not an aggressive creature. However, he wouldn’t put his men in unwarranted danger and he was not about to set a bad example. His skin rippled along with everyone else’s as they readied for trouble.

  Arga grabbed the end of the strap above the Tysu’s right knee. “Strap coming off,” he said and flicked his wrist.

  The flex strap unwound, slipping through like water where Kren and the creature’s body met. She sighed and smiled at Arga as the strap wrapped itself in a small circle to be tucked in Arga’s belt again. Kren wasn’t the only one whose breath caught when she rewarded his partner with that grateful expression.

  She stretched her arms and wriggled her fingers. Then she looked Kren in the eye again and tapped her chest just above her breasts. “Jeannie. Jeannie.”

  Kren considered. “Maybe she’s telling us what she is.”

  His most junior officer, a young man named Pon, spluttered with disbelief. “Wait—you really think this thing has self-identity?”

  “Let’s find out.” Kren sat her on a computer podium. Her feet swung three feet off the ground, and she gazed down at him, her expression expectant. He pointed to himself. “Risnarish. Risnarish.” He pointed to her. “Jeannie.”

  She sighed with relief and nodded with enthusiasm. “Jeannie. Risnarish.” She pointed to herself and then him as she spoke the two words. Then she garbled something else and pointed to Arga.

  He grinned to be included in the exchange and thumped his chest with a fingerless fist. “I am also Risnarish. Risnarish.”