Starport: Zeta Prime (Alt)

by S. A. Jackson

  Across the forest, near to the colony, the group of male aliens helped each other limp back towards the village. One, more seriously hurt than the others, handing lifelessly off of the back of one of them.

  * * * *

  Unknowing, in the village Jillian continued to crush her grain, listening intently to the words of the older female.

  “We all knew who wanted to become his bride. She made it perfectly clear that was her intention. But she has a coldness around her heart, something spiky about that one. We knew she wouldn’t be chosen.” The woman laughed.

  “Oh, you should have seen her face when he told us he had rescued you.”

  Jillian had to try very hard not to react to this news. He had rescued her? She thought back to the night she escaped. She had thought that she had just been lucky–getting away as she did. But why had they not fired shots at her as she’d expected? Suddenly, it seemed that luck may have had very little to do with it. Had Faron helped her to get away? For days, she had considered herself a prisoner, when in fact, she had been a salvaged refugee. He had saved her life.

  More than anything now, she wanted him to return so that she could show her gratitude. She had seriously misjudged these people from the start.

  “In seriousness, Jillian. You need to watch yourself with that one. We all joked at first about her tantrum upon your arrival, but I watched her face during the ceremony, there was a blackness on it.” The woman’s face grew serious and she stopped her pounding of the wheat to meet Jillian’s eyes.

  She assumed that the woman must have been talking about the first female who had bought her food, but couldn’t be certain. She had picked up on the animosity right away, but didn’t realize there may be a grave competition going on.

  Well, she was bound to Faron now, he was her mate, and there was little the other female could do about that. He had chosen her and she’d just have to accept that. Jillian severely regretted having ever pretended that she couldn’t speak the language. For now, she was unable to ask questions that she so desperately wanted to ask. Like, who the female was, and what to expect her reaction to be. Also, she wanted to tell Faron that she knew what he had done for her, and that she was grateful for it. She wanted to join in with the fun chatter of the females this morning. She wanted to know these beings.

  She couldn’t very well just announce her knowledge, more than making her look devious and underhanded, it would make Faron look a fool in front of his tribe, and that was the last thing she wanted. She decided that maybe it was time for her to pretend to learn it. Starting now.

  “Wheat.” She spoke in English and pointed to the grain on the table. The woman looked at her, confused for a moment, so she repeated the word with the action. Understanding, the woman pointed and repeated the word in her own tongue.

  Jillian spoke it, purposely fumbling the vowel sounds at first, until she had copied it a few times. The woman laughed, delighted.

  “I am Sennan.” The woman placed her hand on her chest. Slowly, Jillian did the same, once again being careful not to be too perfect right away.

  “I am Jillian.”

  Sennan smiled as she reached for more grain.

  “You will be fine here. Keep your eyes out for that woman. I warn you that she may stop at nothing to take Faron as her own. Protect yourself however you can.”

  Jillian heeded the warning internally, but lifted her shoulders in an attempt to portray her loss of understanding at Sennan’s speech.

  The woman talked the entire time they sorted the grain, knowing that Jillian couldn’t understand her but wanting to be friendly and not have the pair of them sit in silence. She spoke about births and marriages within the tribe with great pride, Jillian was warmed to learn of their sense of community, of togetherness, and was also fascinated to hear about natural births–similar to that of humans on earth a long time ago, and not even possible now.

  As morning moved into afternoon and both of their sacks bulged with the bulk of the powdered wheat, Sennan got up from the table and with one hand, invited Jillian to do the same.

  “Now, we’ll go and eat. The men will be back by sundown.”

  She felt excited at the prospect of seeing Faron that evening, and happily followed Sennan back to the communal hut.

  Smells of cooking hit her once again–a now familiar scent of spices and honey. She presumed that the door at the back of the building must lead to a kitchen of sorts, given that was where the fragrances were coming from. The room was much more buzzing than it had been that morning, alive with the shouts of children teasing each other, adults talking in groups and eating. They all turned as she stepped inside, Sennan next to her, and she saw nothing but a sea of kind faces looking towards her.

  She scanned the room quickly for signs of the one who had bought her food when she’d thought she was prisoner. She had a strong feeling this was the one she’d been warned about, but there was no sign of her so relaxing, she sat with her new friends to eat.

  * * * *

  A trail of blood followed the males as they made the arduous journey on foot back to the village. Nobody spoke to each other, knowing that they had to preserve their strength. The whole way, Faron admonished himself for not being quick enough, not being able to avert this horrific catastrophe. He hoped they had enough time, hoped it wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Shouts alerted Jillian as she lay on the bed. Surprisingly, she’d enjoyed her day. It had been nice to help out with the processing of the grain–to do something useful. But she had found following the language, and pretending she didn’t, exhausting. So later in the afternoon she had come back to her new dwelling to relax before the men returned.

  She hovered in the doorway to try and see what the commotion was about, and was horrified to see a group of the men–including hers, dragging themselves from the tree line. Clearly, all was not well. One of them was being carried by another, his head supported by Faron to prevent it flopping backwards.

  Dread stuck in her throat as, like all the other villagers, she raced over to help them.

  “We need to get him to the healing hut.” Faron gestured to Ashan needlessly. His eyes were closed as he hung over Charin’s back, alarmingly unresponsive.

  “You all need to go there,” said an elderly woman, stern enough for none of them to argue. Ashan’s wife pushed through the group that had gathered and started sobbing at what she saw.

  The woman put her arm around her comfortingly.

  “The healer has been fetched. He’s in safe hands.”

  His wife stroked his face and cried out to him, begging that he stay with her. Charin, Ashan and Camil made their way to a stone building on the opposite side of the village. Faron, lips tight and jaw clenched, followed on after them.

  “I don’t think so. You need to let me take a look at that. Look how hurt you are–you need to be seen to.” The elderly woman stopped him with a firm hand and examined the wound near his shoulder–a gaping hole gushing with blood.

  “What in the world did this to you, Faron?” She asked, her eyes filled with concern.

  “It doesn’t matter. I will go to see if I can help with Ashan’s treatment.” He didn’t look at the woman once. She opened her mouth as if to say more, but changed her mind and let him go.

  Jillian made it to his side just before he reached the building where the healer was.

  “Faron. Oh God, you’re hurt. What happened?” She babbled pointlessly in English, cursing her stupid lie not to speak the language, but knowing even now, that revealing herself would make her look awful. But she couldn’t not say anything to him. His injury looked bad. She gulped, it looked really bad. There was blood flowing freely from it, which she knew had to be stopped as quickly as possible.

  Jillian ripped a strip of material from the bottom of her skirt and pressed it down hard on the open gash. He shrugged her off immediately and carried on walking.

  Behind the closed door of the hut, she could hear the wails
of one of the women and she bit her lip at the distress of the sound. Half-jogging to keep up with Faron, she went to step inside with him as he reached for the door.

  He held a palm up to her. Stop. And then disappeared into the building, closing the door behind him and leaving Jillian on the outside, confused and upset. Not knowing what else to do, and being worried about his injury, she sat outside the hut and waited, hugging her knees to her chest.

  Inside, the healer had laid Ashan out onto a table. He looked closely at the hole that penetrated through his chest. Dousing a cloth in oil, he laid it over Ashan’s nose.

  “It’s to numb the pain when he regains consciousness,” he explained to his audience.

  “Can I help in any way?” Faron stepped forward.

  “Yes. I need to get the piece of metal out from the wound. It seems to be lodged, keep your hands on his shoulders. You’ll need to hold him still. If he moves, I could end up causing more damage.” He looked up as Faron took position, standing at his comrade’s head.

  “You look like you need to be treated, too. That wound’s not small.” The healer commented to him. Faron waved him off, his own wound could wait. Ashan’s wife was being held back by Camil and Charin, but as the healer leant to delve into the wound, she struggled free and flung herself onto his still body.

  “I’m going to need her out of here.” The healer requested.

  “Go and find Sennan, Fenn. She’ll look after you.” Camil led her to the door.

  As it opened, Jillian leapt up from the ground. She took one look at Fenn’s grief stricken face and grabbed her arm.

  “Fenn. Is he okay?” She wanted to help so badly, and tried to pull Fenn into a hug– knowing that her words were useless.

  To her shock, Fenn jerked away as if she’d been stung and narrowed her eyes at Jillian.

  “Don’t pretend you care. Those cuts are not from animals. Your people did this to him. Your people,” she spat as she walked away into the main clearing. Jillian stood, stunned. She hadn’t looked properly at the hole in Faron’s shoulder, but hearing Fenn’s accusation made her think. Had it been a bullet wound?

  She had thought the men had been out hunting, so how come they had come under gunfire? She pushed the questions to the back of her mind, knowing that she couldn’t provide the answers herself. She began pacing up and down the entrance of the medical site, waiting once more.

  Faron’s shoulder was throbbing with pain as he held onto Ashan, but he simply couldn’t focus on that right now. He needed to know that his man was going to live. It had been his fault that they had been out there–he had put them in that place of danger. The healer gingerly lowered two finely pointed sticks into the wound and managed to grip the metal object. As he began to lift it out, Ashan spluttered and tried to wriggle from the searing burn in his chest.

  Faron spoke calming words as he restrained him, watching the healer the whole time, willing the object to come out.

  “I’ve got it.” The healer lifted a small, blood covered shard into the air.

  “Now, we need to stitch him up and cover the area with dressings. He won’t be going out hunting for a while though, I’m afraid.”

  “Will he heal completely?” Faron felt guilty at the healer’s statement, knowing that he hadn’t been out hunting at all.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him, but it’s a good sign that he’s awake now, so remain positive.”

  Camil and Charin visibly relaxed at the news, but Faron stayed tense and anxious.

  “Come on, Faron. You need to get yourself mended. You’re of no use to Ashan–or any of us injured.” Camil insisted.

  Faron thanked the healer and left the two men in the hut to keep watch over the third. He glanced at Jillian as she sprang to him when he left, but then kept his gaze forward while he marched towards Sennan’s dwelling. He couldn’t look at her. He was furious at himself for putting his men in danger, and furious with himself for putting her in danger, too. What if they came looking for her now? It was his role in life to protect, and he had let everyone down. He couldn’t face Jillian until he’d made peace with himself.

  She was desperate for him to at least look at her. They had been so united last night, as one, and now she felt more of an outsider than ever.

  Sennan opened the door to Faron and invited him in.

  “Mother. Can you tend to my wounds? I want the healer to concentrate on Ashan?”

  She nodded and gave Jillian a quick glance as the two of them went inside.

  Jillian’s brain was reeling. Sennan was his Mother? She felt shunned by her new mate, and shunned by his family, now. Not wanting to be alone, she went into the large dining hall to see if she could find out what had happened out there–and also to see if she could get some comfort from someone. She was on the verge of tears at this horrible chain of events, and needed to be around others.

  It turned out that the communal building was not the best place to go. As she entered, she saw a group of females, huddled around the distraught Fenn. They looked up to see her, and all instantly turned away. She thought she’d even seen one of them scowl.

  Jillian sat at one of the more sparsely occupied tables, unsure as to where to go. She wanted to make sure that Fenn was alright, wanted to offer sympathy, but from the atmosphere of the crowd around her–she’d not be welcome.

  “They’re saying it’s all your fault, y’know.” Shana slid up to her, making her jump. Infuriatingly, she couldn’t ask questions. She lifted her shoulders and spread her palms in a shrug, hoping that Shana would read her ‘what’s going on?’ signal.

  Shana pointed to the gathered females then to Jillian.

  “They think it’s your fault. The men were hurt by weapons from your men. This has never happened before–not since you arrived. Now, there is a big problem.” She spoke as she jabbed the air. Jillian had a thousand questions. Did Shana see that she had nothing to do with it? Was she talking to her because she knew it wasn’t her fault? Ok, they were her people–humans, but she didn’t order them to attack. And why had they been near each other, anyway? Was this usual on a hunting trip?

  Jillian sighed and bowed her head. It was useless. How could she defend herself when she couldn’t speak? Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone wafting up to the table where Fenn was crying. It was the female who had brought her food, the one she had thought Sennan warned her against. Her face was the picture of compassion as she whispered softly to Fenn. Then, as she looked up at Jillian, a nasty smirk formed on her lips.

  I am in trouble now, Jillian thought. If she manages to poison them against me I will never be accepted here again.

  * * * *

  Sennan knew better than to question her son as she stitched his wound. He sat, staring straight ahead, lost in his own thoughts. He had known his Mother wouldn’t try to push things right now–she always read his state of mind well.

  His people would be wondering what had happened, and he knew that soon enough he was going to have to explain. But for now, he mused over his decision. He had never felt such a powerful emotion before last night with Jillian, he had been almost overwhelmed with the strong sense of wanting to keep her safe, wanting to look after her above all others. Had he sacrificed his men because of that?

  He’d watched her sleep that morning, and had been unable to contain his fury at the way she had been treated, at the way she would have most certainly been killed had he not intervened. But what was this feeling that overpowered all his other duties? It scared him. It had caused him to make a potentially fatal choice.

  * * * *

  Jillian looked at the female sitting next to her, and wondered if she’d be shunned too, for being with her. There was much kindness in these people, much loyalty. She didn’t want to be the one who would cause complications and animosity. Though she was desperate to hold on to Shana, to keep her by her side for reassurance that she would not be completely outcast, she was resolute that Shana shouldn’t be thought ill of amongst her own ki
nd, and flashed her a sad smile as she left the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She was too agitated to sit down, so she paced the room, chewing on her nail. She picked up the terracotta jug and filled it with fresh water from the pump in the central clearing of the village, wanting Faron to have no excuse to leave once he came back. If he came back. She got several stares as the water flowed into the vessel, and she was glad to hurry to the sanctuary of the room.

  Straightening out the fur bedding for what seemed to be the thousandth time, it was relief that first hit her as he stepped through the door to their dwelling.

  She ran over to him, not caring about whatever reaction she got—just wanting to show him that she cared, that she wanted to be there.

  Faron looked at her, still needing time–the guilt coursing like venom through his veins. In all honesty, he wanted to reach out to her, but he was afraid of losing face. Afraid that her comfort would break his steel exterior. He went and sat on the edge of the bed, pouring a large drink of water and swallowing it in one gulp.

  Jillian stood boldly in front of him. She needed some answers, and hard as it was going to be, she had to try her best to get them.

  Feeling vaguely ridiculous, she interlaced her fingers in a begging gesture. Please. She then pointed to his now bandaged shoulder and shrugged. What happened?

  He stared at her for a long time, she couldn’t detect any anger or blame in his eyes, and was comforted by this. However, he did not respond to her mimes. She knew he must realize what she was attempting to ask, but his mouth remained resolutely shut.

  Anger bubbled inside of her. Why wouldn’t he just talk? One of his friends had nearly been killed and it was driving her crazy thinking it may be her fault. She sat on the other side of the bed, so that they had their backs together.

  Was this her fault? Part of her felt that the tribe was being unreasonable by blaming her for the injuries to their men. But a part of her also wondered if they were right. What if the men had been looking for her? If during their search they had run into Faron and his men, and attacked? Maybe they knew that Faron had helped her escape?