Alien Home

by Mark Zubro

  “I thought Joe told me that it was against the rules to kill indigenous species.”

  “Did he? Well, technically, I suppose it is. I try not to let technicalities get in the way of doing what I want. That’s one of the reasons I’m so good.”

  “What am I supposed to do for three months? It’s going to be boring here with just me to talk to myself. Unless you plan to move in.”

  “I’m to help you learn our language.”

  Mike said, “Nuts. I hated foreign languages in high school and college.”

  Mike leaned back against the wall, resettled his butt on the sort-of metallic floor, raised his knees, and draped his arms over them. He peered at the alien. Mike said, “I could use some basic information.”

  “I can tell you that Joe is fine. It is unlikely you will see him again, although of that I cannot be certain. The trip to Hrrrm is long but not terribly arduous. This is as comfortable as you will get. This is also as uncomfortable as you will be. Since we educate by implants, and that’s not possible with you, I will have to work with you for an hour every day.”

  “I know a little. I can learn more.”

  “It’ll make life easier when you get there.”

  “Why was I taken along with Joe?”

  “I don’t care about reasons. I had my orders. There could be any number of explanations. Most likely it is because you’ve been tampered with by one of us. Worse, you got fucked by one of us.”

  “I fucked him, too.”

  “People don’t like the idea of intermingling with off-world peoples especially if they are of the same sex. It is very not done.” Mike caught an undertone of mockery in the seemingly rigid attitude.

  “You don’t give a shit who fucks who.”

  “I don’t care if you live or die. I only care that I get paid for delivering you.”

  “Why weren’t you sent after Vov?”

  “I have no idea how interstellar politics works. I wasn’t hired to find him. I was hired to retrieve you and Joe. That’s good enough for me.”

  “Are you from the government?”

  “Our pay is from the faction that rules Hrrrm.”

  Mike thought for a moment. He said, “I’m hungry, and I need to take a piss.”

  “You will be well fed and taken care of.”

  “Will my food be drugged?”

  “We don’t need to drug you to keep you here. If you managed to escape from this room, you wouldn’t be able to walk out of a door into space eternal. There are escape pods, but they would take you only a few light years, and then you would be recaptured before your oxygen ran out.”

  A cube about three feet square began to rise from the floor. Mike saw a door in the side nearest to him.

  Lerg said, “In this you’ll find taps to cleanse your body. You will not need to remove your clothes. They will be cleansed at the same time. I’m not sure what the difference in material from clothes made on Earth will cause to happen. Probably nothing. We try to calibrate these things based on all the civilizations we’ve encountered over the millennia. Yours can’t be that different. It’ll be the first small button on the left when you walk in. Just stand still. It won’t hurt you. A dry mist will surround you for several seconds. If your protection device works because of it, you’re going to be kind of smelly by the time we get to Hrrrm.”

  “How about brushing my teeth?”

  “The mist will do what is necessary. I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to not having what you had on Earth.”

  Mike walked forward. In moments the walls surrounded him, enveloped him, and he was in a private chamber. He performed some bodily functions. Waste disappeared in a small flash. The toilet paper felt odd, slippery like satin, but it served its purpose. He stood up and pressed the left button. The promised mist appeared and disappeared in several seconds. Mike did not feel refreshed, but he did feel cleaner. His clothes felt and smelled newly washed. There were seventeen other buttons on a console about waist high. He began pressing each one in turn. One dimmed the lights. Another caused a mirror to appear. He looked at himself. He wanted to shave. He spoke out loud. “How do I shave?”

  Lerg’s voice came from close by. “The fourth button in the second row. Press it. Put the substance that comes out on your beard. Be careful not to get it on any other part of you that you don’t want to become instantly bald. That compound removes hair instantly and painlessly.”

  Mike pressed the button. He caught several dabs of a gel like substance on the fingers of his left hand. He dabbed a bit of it under his chin. Seconds later the stubble where he’d dabbed was gone. With great care, he smeared it on appropriate parts of his chin, neck, and cheeks. In seconds he was clean shaven.

  “How about a towel?” Mike asked.

  “Press the third button in the fourth column.”

  Mike did. A dry cloud formed around him for a second or two. When it was gone, so were any remnants of the gel. Mike decided to forbear pressing any of the other buttons.

  “I’m done,” he announced. He would give a great deal to have a shower like he had on Earth. Lerg showed him how to summon the personal hygiene device on a simple communicator he provided.

  When done Mike asked, “Why didn’t my protective shield deploy when those mists surrounded me?”

  Lerg shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe what you’ve got only recognizes weapons systems or physical threats, or that thing you use is designed only to detect poison gasses.”

  “You could drug the mist.”

  “We don’t need to. You’re captured. Even if you killed all of us and took over the ship, exactly how much good would it do?”

  “I could rescue Joe. He could pilot this.”

  “Maybe. If he was on this ship.”

  “Oh,” Mike said.

  “Stupid we’re not.”

  Mike’s prison routine didn’t vary. Once a day he was taken out of his room. Under heavy guard, he was allowed to accompany Lerg around the ship. Over time he became familiar with the geography of the interstellar vessel. It was far larger than Joe’s, and Mike was fairly sure he wasn’t taken over all of it.

  To leave the cell, one of the walls of his prison disappeared. One second it was there. The next it was gone. The process made no sound. Mike couldn’t tell if it had been only a simple visual barrier. When he pounded against it at any time, it felt solid enough.

  He thought the entire ship might be about two miles long. He mentioned this to once to Lerg.

  “Yes, one of the largest in the fleet, a battle cruiser.”

  “They sent all this for just the two of us?”

  “And would have sent more if we had to.”

  “Weren’t you afraid of being detected by Earth’s radar?”

  “There’s a lot of black nothingness out there. Remember how asteroids are rarely found by your astronomers until they are relatively close to Earth? It’s reasonably easy to hide from Earth’s radar if you don’t have to land a ship of this size. To get really close, we sent out a scout ship about the same size as Joe’s. A ship this size takes half as much time to cross the galaxy as one the size the police are given.”

  Mike’s favorite spot to stop was a viewing room. He supposed the aliens could just be showing him a hyper-space-alien video of some kind, but Lerg assured him it was the real thing. Mike thought the view was spectacular.

  The daily nothing to do was mind-numbingly boring. He did his best to fill the time. He exercised for at least two hours every day. He paced the room, he did sit ups, pushups, jumping jacks, anything that didn’t require a weight.

  Lerg and he spoke for an hour every day in the language of Hrrrm. After a while Mike began to understand most of what the crewmen were saying to each other. However, he was seldom long enough in their presence to hear more than a few basics – what’s for lunch type of things. Lerg had left him a communicator that gave Mike information. He learned to read the language of Hrrrm far better than before.

  He also experi
mented with the communicator Joe had created for him. He wound up spending hours a day at it. Going back and forth from Lerg’s language communicator, he learned what many of the symbols he called up meant. By the time he was halfway through the journey he could summon the power of the communicator at will. He presumed they must be watching him. He didn’t really care.

  His food appeared at regular intervals. It was either multi-flavored gruel or a grayish Jell-O like substance that looked like it had sat around a little too long. At least it didn’t have little bits of fruit in it like his Aunt Mary put in every Thanksgiving. All the food tasted bland. He ate it all. Even with so large a ship, storage had to be finite. He realized the food could be drugged or could simply kill him. He had little choice.

  On occasion when he awoke he felt light headed, like the first symptoms of the flu. These always went away within a few minutes and did not always occur.

  The rest of the time was spent in mind-numbing, boring staring at the walls and missing Joe.

  One day Lerg announced, “In three days we will arrive at our home planet.”

  “What happens to me?”

  “I’m just the delivery person. I’m not involved in politics.” They were on the daily tour of the ship and just about to enter the viewing room when Mike felt the ship rock and sway. Other than the portal, it was the first time he even had the slightest indication he really was on a ship moving through space. The ride had been smooth and silent for three months. “What was that?” Mike asked.

  The alien’s communicator began to buzz. Mike took out his own. Faint numbers raced across the screen. Over what he assumed was some kind of intercom system, he heard all crew members ordered to their posts. Lerg’s communicator glowed bright orange and the face was a blur of symbols.

  “I need to get you back to your cell,” Lerg said.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’re under attack. If you don’t want me to use this thing to deprive you of oxygen, you will accompany me now.” Any trace of suave, professorial calm had disappeared.

  “Who’s attacking you?”

  Part of the wall on his right disappeared. Mike began to balk at returning to his cell. Lerg tapped on his communicator. Mike saw the yellow glow appear and felt the air around him become lighter. Without further hesitation, he entered the chamber. Lerg did not join him. The wall closed.

  Mike took out his communicator. Maybe if the ship was under attack, he could take advantage of the crews’ preoccupation and… He stopped his own thinking. And what? Go where? He had no place. He had no one. He didn’t even know if Joe was on the same ship. Lerg had implied he wasn’t. And what if whoever was attacking blew up this ship? Lerg had said it was the one of the largest in the fleet. Mike hoped it was very capable of defending itself. He wasn’t quite ready to be sent out into space eternal in the breath of an instant.

  The ship swayed from side to side for about fifteen seconds. This was followed moments later by a violent back and forth rocking motion like a child on an out-of-control swing. When the vehicle lurched up and down, Mike fell to his knees. He grabbed onto a corner of the center monolith and held on. The ship shook for a few more seconds.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Minutes of silence passed followed by a continuous hum in the low bass range. Mike began to wonder if it was the equivalent of a red alert in a Star Trek episode.

  Then the lights went out. Mike’s communicator cast a dim glow. By it, he saw one wall disappear. Men in red tunics flooded the room. His communicator flashed dark blue. They avoided him but stood against all the walls. They kept their communicators in their hands. None of them looked at him.

  Mike heard what sounded like the clash of metal on metal. He thought he saw a few of the guards sweating. A moment later a crush of men, this time in black tunics, rushed in. Fingers tapped at communicators. The air sparkled with color. In moments the red and black clad men fell to fighting hand to hand. They screamed and grunted. Mike retreated to a corner. The men in red ignored him. They were fighting for their lives.

  One of the men in black reached Mike and tried to grab him. Mike’s blue flashed and the man fell, unmoving. The other walls disappeared. More men, now in a variety of different colored tunics poured from every corridor.

  Several more men in black reached him. Each fell as Mike’s blue aura kept them at bay. Nobody tried an oxygen deprivation device.

  The men in the other colored tunics began to retreat. Several black clad men held them off. Others encircled Mike. One of them said, “Kill him.”

  They all pointed communicators at him. A variety of colors flashed at Mike. All dissipated. With his communicator, using all his concentration and skills, he advanced on his attackers. Those few who didn’t fall, retreated.

  They continued to fire. Now, their streams of light didn’t dissipate. They redounded on their owners, and again they fell.

  More red guards appeared, Lerg among them. Soon, the black were far outnumbered.

  Mike found himself standing on his plinth surrounded by fallen aliens. His blue aura throbbed and pulsed.

  “Next,” he shouted.

  Not one alien got near him. The few still standing men in black tunics surrendered. His cell was cleared of bodies. The walls returned.

  The calm placidity of everything he had experienced before resumed.

  His conscience whirled around the notion that he’d just killed a number of men in defending himself. There was no question they had meant him harm. He’d thought about what he’d done to Jack’s dad a great deal on the trip. He’d understood he had no choice then. He knew he’d had none now. But the taking of a life still disconcerted and upset him. And he had no one to talk it over with. He was alone with his conscience.

  About an hour later a bandaged and disheveled Lerg returned.

  “What the hell was that?” Mike asked.

  “The Sky Pirates of Msssk, or people imitating them so the Sky Pirates of Msssk would be blamed. They came to kill or kidnap you.”

  “What stopped them?”

  “You did. They couldn’t beat you. They didn’t expect that.”

  “Now what?”

  “We run.”

  “I thought this was one of the biggest ships in the fleet.”

  “It is, and help is very much on the way. Woe to whoever was behind this.”

  Mike began another question. Lerg didn’t answer. He turned and left. He did not come back. As before, no one else entered his cell. He was not brought any food. After several hours he slept.

  After he awoke, no one continued not to come. He tapped at his communicator but got no information that would help him. Mike paced. He tried shouting. He banged on a wall a few times, more to express his feelings of frustration than any real notion that it would do any more good than it had that first time he woke up.

  His doubts and fears returned a thousand fold. What felt like hours later, he slept again. No one came to him on these last days on the ship. The food appeared only after he was asleep, and faking it to see who brought it didn’t work. They must have some way to monitor his bodily functions. He ate the tasteless mush. What turned out to be his last meal on the ship must have been drugged to some extent. He felt himself growing very tired and then falling deeply asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Mike woke to a purple sky, fading to pink, and a double sun low in the sky. He knew he wasn’t on Earth. He couldn’t tell if it was sunrise or sunset. He was on the floor in a square room that had walls that on Earth he would say were made of glass or maybe clear Lucite. He stood up. No bed, no pillow, but it did have a low central plinth as on the ship. Besides numerous cramped and sore muscles, he felt a trifle lightheaded.

  He didn’t know if it was from the space differential, a time warp, the atmosphere of the planet, or psychological angst. Maybe a little psychic disorientation now and again, but not angst. He didn’t do psychological angst often so he doubted if that was it. After several moments, the feeling passed.
He slowly stretched different sets of muscles then walked to the nearest glass wall.

  He was on the highest point of all the land around him. Below him and in the distance, he saw mountainous crags with vast shadows outlined in gray, brown, and green. Looking straight down from the window, he concluded that he must be perched at the very top of a great mountain.

  He saw no evidence of habitation. Not a bird flew in the vastness about him, not an animal appeared. What he thought might be trees began at a line thousands of feet beneath his perch. He was looking out on what was perhaps the most beautiful landscape he might ever see. Untouched Yosemite as James Audubon might have seen it before it was ruined by people eager to provide water for thirsty Californians.