Thumbelalien

by J. M. Page

  Her eyes roved around the room, looking for something she could salvage as a patch, but the only thing she found was the blanket tangled around Bain’s limbs. At least it was better than ripping her own clothes to shreds.

  So, as quietly as she could, she opened up the seam on one edge of the blanket and ripped until she had one long strip of fabric off the bottom. Bain didn’t even move.

  She climbed back up on the chair, balancing with her arms held out to either side, and wrapped the cloth around the split pipe, tying it tightly. It wouldn’t hold the leak in forever. Or even for a few days, but it would stop the drip for now. It would give her some peace.

  Of course, after the leak, she found a floor panel that was sticking up and tripped her, and then there was the wobbly leg of the table, and when a shelf extended from the wall for her dirty dishes, the servos clicked and stuck until she dislodged a metal shaving that was caught in the gears.

  By the time Bain woke up, Lina had repaired something in every part of the room. There were no more drips or clicks or rattling to be heard. The surfaces were level and it was safe to walk around without fear of tripping or injuring yourself. She hadn’t meant to do it, but one thing came after another and… well, here they were.

  Bain groaned as he started to wake, stretching, his eyes bleary and blinking. At first, he looked confused, glancing around the white room, but then his eyes landed on Lina and his furrowed brow smoothed, his expression softening.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse and strained.

  Lina got up and sat on the edge of the cot next to him. “Hey,” she said back. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay,” he said, sounding unsure. “Thirsty,” he added, licking his lips.

  “Right,” Lina answered, standing to move to the dining table and chair. The projector flickered on and she frowned at the symbols. How had she flipped on the translations before in Quarantine?

  “Ummm,” she said, tapping a spot on the table. A moment later, the shelf extended from the wall and dropped a bowl of something resembling porridge on the table.

  “Not quite right…” she muttered, tapping again.

  Bain inhaled deeply, sitting up now. “Smells good though.”

  This time, a plate with some kind of meat dish fell to the table. Lina swept away the porridge bowl so that they didn’t start stacking, but still, she hadn’t figured out water.

  “Lina?”

  “I’m going to get this,” she grumbled.

  “Lina?” Bain tried again, as she tapped something else on the screen and a bowl of yellow-green broth appeared.

  “No, I can do it,” she said, not looking back to him. But he didn’t answer and it was enough to make her narrow her eyes and turn, finding him smirking.

  “What?”

  “You’re cute when you’re frustrated,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?”

  “Well, I was thinking that I’m starving and I might just inhale all the food you’re ordering, but other than that… yes,” he answered, his eyes glittering green.

  “Sorry,” she said, sheepish as she delivered the bowl of porridge, handing him the spoon that was attached to the underside.

  “Thank you,” he said, gratitude filling every syllable as he dug in.

  She went back to the table and studied the display longer while she listened to the sounds of Bain eating. The slurp of each bite, the metal-on-metal scraping of the spoon against the sides of the bowl, his short breaths, trying to cool the steaming food. At least he was awake now. That was a step in the right direction.

  She focused on the display and tried to recall the layout of the screen in Quarantine. The interface there had been a bit more intuitive for a foreigner to figure out. This one definitely assumed she knew what she was reading. But would that mean it wouldn’t have a translation at all? There was a string of symbols that looked familiar and she tapped it, waiting for another plate of hot food to appear. But instead, the projection flickered and then changed, morphing into words she could actually read. Sort of.

  The letters were ones she recognized, but most of the actual words were very broken English and didn’t make a lot of sense. She guessed that was just more of their differences shining through. Like how the Fibbuns didn’t seem to have a word for privacy.

  She navigated the menus on the table while Bain continued eating and finally found the section for drinks. She never would have found it on her own. She tapped for water and waited.

  Nothing happened.

  She tapped it again, and again nothing.

  “Uh, Lina?” Bain called hesitantly through a mouth full of porridge.

  “Do you need more?”

  “Turn around.”

  She clenched her jaw, trying to be patient as he interrupted her puzzle-solving. She just wanted to get this thing figured out. She probably should have done it before he woke if she didn’t want distractions.

  Still, she’d humor him. She turned around and found that a portion of the wall between the cot and the corner chair had disappeared, opening into what looked like a separate bathroom. Not quite the set-up either of them was used to, but obvious enough in its purpose.

  “Oh,” she said on an exhale. “Well, that’s one way to get water, I guess.”

  She frowned, looking back at the interface. So if that wasn’t it… She tapped another section and a glass extended from the wall, a nozzle following to fill it.

  “Ha!” she cried, triumphant at last. Handing the glass over to Bain, she took his empty porridge bowl. “Anything else?”

  He shook his head, eyes wide, utter bewilderment looking almost comical on him.

  “What…” he started, then stopped, shaking his head with a wince. His hand came up and cradled his forehead before he leaned back against the pillows and gulped down the glass of water.

  “Everything alright?” Lina asked, taking a spot next to him, her feet swinging from the edge of the cot. Now that she’d figured out the projector’s interface, she couldn’t stop grinning. They had everything they needed. Except for answers.

  “I’m just… confused,” Bain said, still holding his head. “Where are we? Were we rescued?”

  Lina nibbled her bottom lip. “No, not exactly… Do you remember us being captured?”

  “Yes, of course. And that huge thing taking you away while his friend shot me.”

  “Right,” she said, dragging out the syllable. How was she going to explain this to him?

  “I think… I think we might have the wrong idea about these people?”

  Bain frowned, his forehead creasing as his fingers tightened on the glass. “‘These people’? We’re still on their ship?”

  She nodded slowly, bracing for the impact of his inevitable freak-out.

  “But… I don’t understand,” he finally said with a sigh. Whatever drugs they’d given him hadn’t just made him loopy and tired; there was obviously some lingering effect plaguing him.

  “Why don’t you lay back?” she suggested, remembering how exhausted and weak she’d felt from her trip through the transporter. If he was feeling even half of that, he shouldn’t be exerting himself.

  He resisted as she pushed on his chest, but finally he laid back, pulling her with him, his arm wrapped around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and her eyes started to drift closed as he played with her hair. “How about you start from the beginning. My memory is… lacking.”

  Lina nodded and began to relay her encounter with the guard, then their meeting with the Captain. “You were… less than cordial,” she said carefully. “Though I’m hoping we can explain that it was just the drugs you were on.”

  His hand tightened on her arm, his body going stiff. “Why should we explain anything to them?”

  Lina propped herself up on her elbow and looked deep into his eyes. “Don’t you want to get out of here? Go back home?”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible at this
point.”

  She sighed, shaking her head. “Of course you don’t. It’s possible by talking to them. Maybe there’s some common ground to be found here? I know they’re different, but just look around, Bain—” she said, gesturing to their plain little apartment. It was definitely more of an apartment than a jail cell. “Is this really how you’d treat prisoners? They tended your wounds and made sure you weren’t in pain. When they could have put us in different rooms, they showed mercy and kept us together. Even this place… there’s all the food we could need, there’s clean facilities — which, sure, probably need repairs — but I think they’ve given us equal or better accommodations to what they’re used to. That’s just not how you treat someone you think is less than you. It’s not how you treat prisoners you plan to kill.”

  Bain’s expression didn’t change, but he also didn’t argue.

  “I just wonder… I wonder if this isn’t all some kind of misunderstanding,” she said, tiptoeing lightly around the subject.

  He sat up straighter, his arm falling from around her, leaving her to shiver. “How could you even think a thing like that? You spoke to my mother. You know the things they’ve done to my people. The things they probably did to your parents.”

  She nibbled her lip, considering it. “But… most of that happened a very long time ago, didn’t it? We don’t really know what happened to my parents. It might not have had anything to do with the Fibbuns. And honestly, at this point, it doesn’t matter. They gave me up so I could have a better life and I did. The rest of the details are irrelevant.” Lina had never really been one of those abandoned children that longed to reconnect with her parents. She felt no real connection to the idea of them and had only ever cared about finding out if there were more people like her somewhere. And she’d found that. That and so much more. So whether her parents were alive or dead, freed or enslaved, it didn’t make much of a difference to her.

  “All I’m saying is that the war was hundreds of years ago and maybe things have changed? Maybe they’ve changed.”

  Bain folded his arms and stood, starting to pace around the room before his knees buckled and he had to sit back down. “So what? You think we should just try to talk to them and get our freedom?”

  She shrugged. “What harm could it do?”

  He wasn’t budging, still completely rigid with his back turned to her. “Well, while you’re trying to make peace with the warmongering aliens, I’ll be trying to find us a way out of here. I could use your help if you come to your senses.”

  “Bain, please, just consider that—”

  “No, Lina. They destroyed our ship. They captured us. They shot me. I don’t know how much more evidence you need that they’re our enemies.”

  “They’ve also treated us well, kept us fed, and been fairly reasonable, all things considered. Could you say that your people would treat them with the kindness they’ve shown us?”

  He expelled a sharp breath. “Of course not. They’d instantly be jailed and interrogated.”

  “Because that’s how you treat an enemy,” she said carefully. “But that’s not what’s happening now.”

  “Maybe they’re stupid.”

  She just narrowed her eyes at him, pursing her lips. “You can’t possibly believe that. Their technology has far surpassed that of Mabnoa. This foodmaker alone is technology I wouldn’t even begin to know how to replicate.”

  He grunted.

  “You’re just being stubborn,” she retorted, anger creeping into her voice. Why did he have to be so difficult about it? She’d presented all her evidence in a clear and logical manner and he just refused to listen. Did he really think he knew that much better than her? Or did he not trust her judgement? Either way, it didn’t bode well for their future cooperation.

  “And you’re being naive,” he spat back. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said quickly, staggering toward the bathroom, his hand on the wall for support.

  Lina wanted to offer to help him, to do what she could to make it easier, but she bit her tongue, instead laying back in the cot and curling up against the wall, her back to the rest of the room. That certainly could have gone better.

  Chapter Twenty

  She didn’t think she’d fallen asleep, but must have, because she woke to the sound of arguing. It took a moment for everything to filter in through the haze of sleep — memories of where they were, of fixing parts of this ship, and fighting with Bain. Bain who was still speaking in a very angry voice, but to whom?

  There was a fuzz in her brain, like cotton batting filtering everything. She’d gone too long without sleep and now that she’d gotten some, her body wasn’t ready to quit. But she forced herself to focus and heard the familiar grunting noises that made her eyelids fly open.

  One of the guards was back, standing in the doorway, pointing his weapon at Bain who kept lobbing insults and demands at him.

  “Your entire pathetic ship will be nothing but dust once my mother hears about this,” Bain said, venom spewing forth. Lina glared at him; he had no way of making good on those promises — by all accounts, Mabnoa had no weapons capable of such a thing — and he was just making matters worse.

  She stood up quickly, feeling a little dizzy as she did, but shoved that feeling away, racing to Bain’s side, stepping between him and the Fibbun guard.

  “What is going on here?”

  “He just came barging in with that thing and went for you,” Bain said, practically growling. “Still think they’re so harmless?”

  She huffed and turned away from him, meeting the strange yellow eyes of the guard. She couldn’t be totally sure, but she thought this was the same one who’d been with her in Quarantine.

  “What’s happening?” she asked him, trying to read his expression. It wasn’t easy. But the guard at least lowered his weapon, gesturing around the room as he said something in his garbled language. The gestures seemed random, but then Lina realized he was pointing to her repairs, trying to say something about that. She remembered the condition the rest of the ship was in and nodded.

  “Yeah, I did that. I can help in other places too,” she said.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Bain roared from behind her. She just shot a fierce glare over her shoulder.

  “You can help me or shut up, but those are the only choices,” she snapped at him. He was being utterly ridiculous and she couldn’t do this with him working against her.

  He seemed to choose ‘shutting up’ as his option. Whatever. As long as he wasn’t getting in her way.

  The guard jerked his head toward the doorway, seeming to tell Lina to come with him.

  “What about him?” she asked, pointing to Bain. The guard grumbled something and sneered at him, practically foaming at the mouth.

  Lina sighed, her shoulders slumping with resignation. “Yeah, fair enough.” Whatever the guard wanted her for, she’d have to do it alone. Bain had proven himself to be an obstacle and until he saw reason, she just couldn’t risk having him around.

  “I guess I’ll see you later,” she said to Bain, stepping towards the doorway as the guard backed out.

  “Lina! Lina, stop! You can’t go with him. What if you never come back?” Suddenly, there was desperation in his eyes, total fear taking over. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll be back,” she said, hoping it was true. She expelled a heavy breath and went back to him, cradling his jaw in her palm. “Please trust me. I know this seems crazy, but I really think it’s our best option.”

  He closed his eyes, leaning into her palm, and finally nodded. “Okay. If you think this is what you have to do.”

  She smiled, a sad little grin that tugged at her heartstrings and made her second-guess this. But then she just kissed him quickly and pulled away before she could change her mind. “I’ll be back before you know it,” she said, backing out of the room.

  The door closed behind her, locking Bain on the other side. He flattened his palm against the window and with his
eyes begged her not to be wrong. She tried her best to look assured as she turned away from him, but the whole time she followed the guard down the hallway, her heart was in her throat.

  The guard led her through the ship again, and Lina tried yet again to memorize the path they took, but it was too winding, too confusing. She wouldn’t have been surprised at all to find out that they’d crossed the same hallway multiple times just to throw her off. Once she lost track of where they were in her mental map, she switched to cataloging needed repairs. A leak here, a broken vent there, no power down that corridor, that kind of thing. By the time the guard stopped, Lina had a mental list a mile long.

  He turned to her, pausing before a closed door, and seemed to be trying to communicate something with her silently. There was a look in his eyes. A plea, perhaps? But what could he possibly want from her? She was the one trapped and kidnapped.

  She shifted on her feet and the Fibbun turned back to the door, his back swelling with a deep breath as he placed his sticky hand on the keypad.

  The door whooshed open, then stuck three-quarters of the way up with a grinding crunch. The Fibbun guard looked up and grumbled, ducking his head under the stuck door. Lina frowned at it, not needing to duck, though she craned her head to look up, trying to see past the door to the mechanism that had broken. Of course she couldn’t see anything, but she added it to the list in her head and followed the guard in.

  Once they were both inside the room, the door slammed shut again.

  She’d thought the guard might be taking her back to the bridge, but this room was unfamiliar. It wasn’t much more than the room that she and Bain shared, though it was done up in muted greens, grays, and browns, rather than white. The walls weren’t so bare in this room. There were screens covering almost every surface, displaying what looked like diagnostics from the ship, judging by the diagrams next to the foreign symbols.