sedona files 06 - enemy mine

by Christine Pope

  During that rather lame explanation — although I wasn’t sure I could even call it that — Gideon’s frown hadn’t disappeared, had deepened, if anything. But then he nodded slightly. “I can see how you might think that. My father was in command, and so he did have first right to any….” He stopped there, as if unsure how to put it.

  “Spoils of war?” I suggested.

  “I suppose so.” From the carefully neutral tone of his voice, I guessed he didn’t much like that phrase being applied to the woman who’d given birth to him.

  Something in his reaction heartened me a little. Gideon seemed to be doing his best to remain as cool and factual as possible, even when speaking of his mother, but I got the impression he was bothered by talking about her in such a way. And if he could have that kind of response, then it seemed to me there must be a good deal more to him that was human besides his appearance.

  Or he could also be putting on an act, behaving in a way calculated to put me off my guard. I really had no idea, because I didn’t know him, and I couldn’t seem to penetrate his thoughts. Whether that barrier existed because of his Reptilian heritage, I wasn’t sure. I’d never encountered a Reptilian before I saw Lir Shalan and his henchmen back at the ruined base. Aliens in and of themselves didn’t seem to be an issue, since I’d had to put up my own mental barriers to avoid being blasted by Callista whenever she was having a particularly bad day. But the Reptilians seemed to be an entirely different story.

  Even without my peculiar gift giving me hints, I had the feeling that Gideon was wishing he hadn’t brought up the topic of his mother. I didn’t know what to ask — or rather, I had so many things I wanted to ask him, I didn’t know where to start. Inquiring whether he had any siblings didn’t seem like a very good idea, and I guessed that any questions as to the nature of the Reptilians’ plans for me would also be ignored.

  Why he’d told me that Lir Shalan was his father, I didn’t know. Maybe to impress me with his importance? No, that didn’t feel right. That little fact had come out when he was explaining why part of his name was the same as that of the alien leader. I wondered then if his mother had named him Gideon, or whether it was a Reptilian name that just happened to have an earthly analogue.

  What I asked, though, was the question that seemed to matter most right then. “Why me?”

  He didn’t blink, or even look away, but in an odd way, it appeared as if his focus had shifted, that he was trying to avoid eye contact. Why? Maybe he hadn’t yet realized that I couldn’t read his mind. Anyhow, my abilities didn’t work that way. I didn’t have to be looking someone in the eye to pick up on their thoughts, although that sort of contact did help.

  “You’re special. You possess interesting talents,” he replied.

  Well, true enough. But so did my mother, and so did Kirsten and Callista, Martin and Raphael. Or was I more interesting to the Reptilians because I was human and still possessed psychic abilities?

  That explanation seemed plausible enough, although the deeper implications of why they’d chosen me began to sink in a second or two later. Did they want me for their breeding experiments? If I were really lucky, all I’d have to do was give up some DNA for them to play with, but what if they wanted something more from me than that?

  I went cold again, despite the warmth of the room and the jacket I was wearing. However, I didn’t want Gideon to see how much his reply had unsettled me. Thank God the Reptilians weren’t what you could call psychic, despite their surveillance tactics.

  “Well, thanks,” I said in a careless tone that I doubted would have fooled anyone. “My parents think I’m special, too.”

  Since I’d almost finished my water anyway, I set the cup down on the flat piece of metal that served as a table and got to my feet. Carefully not looking at Gideon, I sent a quick glance around the room. “So where are you taking me? Back to your world?”

  “No, we haven’t gone anywhere at all.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Come.”

  He held out a hand. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take it, especially after those revelations about his parentage. What if Lir Shalan had decided I would be the perfect mate for his son? I certainly didn’t want to encourage that line of thought, and taking Gideon’s hand might seem that I was being friendly with him. But then, I’d already blown it if I was going to be standoffish. After all, I’d held his hand when he first brought me here.

  There was also the distinct possibility that he just didn’t know all that much about human interactions, and only wanted to take me by the hand because that was the easiest way to guide me to wherever it was he wanted to take me.

  So I let out a small breath, and once again laid my hand in his. Those strong fingers didn’t feel any less human, even though I now knew that half his parentage was Reptilian.

  “This way,” he said, leading me out of the room that apparently was to be mine.

  We didn’t head back the way we had come, instead going farther down the corridor and then to a bank of elevators. Like the rest of the ship, they were made of metal, and didn’t seem all that different from elevators you’d find back on Earth. Well, except that they seemed to be turbocharged; Gideon pressed the index finger of his free hand against the panel to the right of the door, and we shot up so quickly that I almost lost my balance.

  But he tightened his grip on my hand, keeping me from stumbling. I wished I could pull away, and then scolded myself for being uncharitable. Whatever he — and the rest of the Reptilians — were up to, in that moment, he’d prevented me from taking a nasty spill. I could be grateful for that small moment of courtesy, even if he’d only done so in order to keep the future mother of his children from doing a face plant on the floor of the elevator.

  When the doors opened, we emerged into a hallway identical to the one where my borrowed room was located. Here, though, I could see other crew members moving through the corridor, and had to force myself not to stare at their alien faces.

  They didn’t seem to be bothered by the same scruples, unfortunately; their flat reddish gazes appeared to follow me as Gideon guided me along. He had to have noticed their scrutiny, but he did nothing to acknowledge it, or them, for that matter. Did they resent him because of his half-human blood? Or was he accorded a certain amount of deference as the son of their leader?

  Yet another thing I didn’t know, and a subject I probably wouldn’t want to mention. Even with all my not-staring, I’d noted that the aliens on this level wore dark gray jumpsuits with some sort of metal insignia fastened to their high collars, very different from the sweeping robes Gideon had on — the same type of garments all the Reptilians in Lir Shalan’s entourage had worn. Maybe they were the elite, while the ones I saw now were more like worker bees.

  My questions fell away, however, as the corridor opened up into a sort of observation deck, one that stretched a good ten yards to either side of us. Directly in front was a wall of glass — well, probably not glass, but some sort of transparent material holding back the vacuum of space.

  Because I could see now that we were in orbit above the Earth, a beautiful blue-green disk so close it felt as if I could reach out and touch it. We were just passing over the shadowy line that marked the coming of night. To mostly open ocean, I realized as I peered out at the view, although I thought I recognized the continent of Australia about to pass directly below us.

  “It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

  Gideon let go of my hand so he could wrap his fingers around the metal railing directly in front of us. It hit him roughly at waist level, although it was higher than that on me. Clearly, the Reptilians as a race were taller on average than humans.

  “This is what I meant when I told you that we really hadn’t gone anywhere at all,” he said. “There is your world, not so very far away.”

  He was right; it didn’t feel far. But since I had no way of getting off this ship, that huge blue-green orb filling the window — or view screen, or whatever it was — mi
ght as well have been light-years away.

  “Why haven’t you left?”

  The red eyes flickered over toward me. “Because we have matters to attend to here.”

  That didn’t sound good. “What kind of matters?” I asked, not bothering to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

  But Gideon only shrugged and returned his attention to the view of Earth beneath us. “We did your people a service in returning their astronauts to them. It’s only natural that your leaders would wish to speak with my father and the others involved in that rescue.”

  On the surface, that reason sounded fine and noble…except I knew that Lir Shalan and his people hadn’t “rescued” those astronauts at all. No, they’d had them imprisoned on the Reptilian base on Mars, and no doubt all of them would have suffered a variety of gruesome fates if they hadn’t been set free by Raphael and Callista and her parents. The astronauts had been sent safely on their way afterward, their ship’s programming altered so they could return to Earth even without following their originally set course.

  Unfortunately, the Reptilians had decided to roll the dice, and step in and pretend to rescue the Mars mission’s team, thus earning them the world’s gratitude…and, I feared, giving them carte blanche to do pretty much whatever they wanted.

  I didn’t reply at first, mostly because angering Gideon by flinging those truths in his face wouldn’t do me any good. So far he’d been civil to me, even friendly. While I didn’t want to be here, better to do so in his company than that of his fearsome father or any of the other members of Lir Shalan’s team. Starting an argument didn’t seem like a very wise idea.

  Besides, I honestly couldn’t tell if he was being disingenuous or whether he truly didn’t have any idea what a liar and manipulator his father was. Yes, Gideon had been there on Penalta when Callista was brought in front of the Assembly to defend her actions at the Mars base, actions that had resulted in the death of a Reptilian soldier. But she’d told all of us that Gideon hadn’t spoken at all, hadn’t done anything except observe. I supposed it was possible that his father had kept him out of his plans, and so he didn’t know that those astronauts hadn’t been rescued at all, had only been used as pawns in Lir Shalan’s endless games of planetary chess.

  “And once they’re done with their business?” I asked, both fearing the answer and wanting to know what my eventual fate would be. If I was going to be hauled away to Alpha Draconis to live my life in exile among the Reptilians, I figured I’d better start steeling myself to that possibility now. My stomach tightened with dread, though, and I wondered how I could ever survive on a world so far from everyone and everything I loved.

  “Oh, I think it will take some time,” Gideon replied evasively.

  So he wasn’t going to give me any real information. I didn’t know why I’d expected anything different. He might have looked far more human in appearance than Reptilian, but it seemed clear enough to me right then that he’d been raised to be his father’s son. Being polite or even friendly to me was only a means to an end.

  And I didn’t really want to think about what that end might be.

  CHAPTER THREE

  After lingering on the observation deck for a few more minutes, Gideon led me back to my room. The discarded hamburger patty looked very forlorn on its metal plate, but he went to it and carried it over to a slot that opened in the wall when he waved a hand in front of it.

  “Disposal unit,” he said briefly. Then he stepped over to the door I’d noted earlier and pressed his hand on the panel next to it. “Rest facilities.”

  I didn’t want to go any closer. There was something far too intimate about having Gideon look on while I took a tour of the bathroom. “Thanks. I’ll take a look when I need it.”

  His brows drew together once again, but then his expression cleared. “Of course. Your people are somewhat private about such things. If you do have any questions — ”

  “I’ll manage,” I broke in. “Thanks.”

  Another of those awkward little pauses descended. His gaze flickered toward the “rest” room, and back over to me. “If you will be comfortable here for a while, I must go speak with my father.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured him as he left, although I had a feeling I’d actually be anything but. Bad enough that I was marooned here on an alien spaceship, with no chance of getting away. What made it worse — foolish as it seemed — was that I hadn’t caught a glimpse of anything that looked like a computer or a television or an entertainment console. How in the world was I supposed to keep myself entertained in this windowless box of a room?

  I thought longingly of the phone I’d left behind in the Joneses’ SUV, a phone packed with games and books and a couple of movies I’d downloaded but hadn’t had a chance to watch yet. The contents of that phone could have kept me occupied for at least a week, probably more…assuming I could figure out a way to charge it.

  Of course, the thought of being trapped in here for a week only made my brain hurt that much more. What had I been thinking when I reached out and took Gideon’s hand?

  The quick and easy answer was that I hadn’t been thinking at all. I’d more or less acted on instinct, had allowed the visions to guide me. Now those visions had faded away, and yet here I was. Anger flickered in me. What good were those visions if all they’d done was lead me to an alien ship, only to abandon me?

  The door had closed behind Gideon. I went and laid my hand on the panel next to it, just as I’d seen him do, but it didn’t open. Not that I’d really expected it to. He hadn’t called me a prisoner, but that’s exactly what I was. Tears started in my eyes, but I blinked them away. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. I had to be strong, no matter what happened.

  If only this room had a window, even a single teeny porthole that would let me see the world I’d come from. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so alone, although I ached to think of what my parents must be going through right then, realizing that their daughter was a captive of the hated Reptilians. How had Martin and Kirsten even broken the news to them? Sorry, she just bolted past us before we could stop her….

  I doubted my parents would believe there was nothing the Joneses could have done. But it was the truth. I’d known I had to step in. Right then, my instincts had taken over.

  Only now those same instincts appeared to have deserted me.

  Since there wasn’t much else for me to do, I went over to the cubbyhole/bed, and, after unlacing my hiking boots and kicking them off, I climbed in. The flat padded surface was surprisingly comfortable, despite how thin it appeared.

  It was far too early to sleep, but that hadn’t been my intention in coming in here. I’d thought that maybe I could focus, meditate, see if my strange inner eye could flare back into life. I needed it now more than ever before.

  I’d read about isolation tanks, but I’d never experienced one. They were a fad of an earlier time, although I’d heard that several people in Sedona still owned them. Whether they used them or not, I had no idea, but I didn’t have time to worry about that now. The cubbyhole where I now sat could serve a similar purpose, even if it wasn’t quite the same. Some of the dim reddish light from the main part of the room did penetrate in here, and I thought I could hear a very low, almost subsonic background hum that probably came from the ship itself. Maybe the life-support systems.

  Otherwise, though, the space was dark and warm and quiet, excellent conditions for achieving the sort of meditative state I required. My mother had always outright stated that she stank at meditating, but I’d taken classes in Sedona, learning how to either increase my concentration or let things drop away, depending on what I needed at the time. Mostly it was a matter of learning how to shift my focus, the perfect tool for staying out of people’s heads unless specifically invited in.

  In this particular case, though, I didn’t want to stay out. I wanted to get in.

  Because Reptilians were built on a larger scale than most humans — especially young women in their early
twenties — I had plenty of space to cross my legs in the lotus position and lay my hands on my knees, palms upward. Because the light was so dim, I didn’t bother to shut my eyes. I only did that when I was trying to focus inward.

  Now, though, I needed to send my consciousness outward, to see if I could learn anything useful.

  Some people called it astral projection. I never really thought of it that way, just as another skill in my toolbox. It was also something I’d never discussed with anyone, not even my mother; the first time it had happened, I’d thought I was just having a particularly vivid dream. But things I had overheard turned out to have occurred at the very moment I’d experienced them for myself, and that was when I realized I couldn’t just see into people’s minds, or receive strange snippets of the future, but could actually have my conscious self move out into the world independent of my body.

  I didn’t do it very often. The sensation was too unnerving, as if I could actually feel my consciousness separate itself from my physical form with an audible pop. But I couldn’t think of too many things more unsettling than being held prisoner on an alien spaceship, so I was willing to take the risk right then. If I could leave this room, even in an incorporeal state, I’d at least have shown that I had some control over my situation.

  There was that odd sensation, like a rubber band that’s been stretched too tight suddenly snapping in two. And then I was moving out of my little cubbyhole of a bed, slipping through the door as if it didn’t exist. To my astral self, it didn’t.