Arianna's Alien

by Reagan Woods

Mindful of his superior size and strength, he tilted her little face up, examining her alien features. He caught his breath, Vank was right, her eyes were green. Not the dark green he’d expected but the bright green of her planet’s leaves. Her cheekbones were high slashes in her heart shaped face.

  The nostrils of her little bump of a nose flared as she boldly conducted her own inventory of him. He would allow this disrespect for the moment because she didn’t know better.

  As loathe as he was to break such a delicate creature’s spirit, he would have to set about destroying her defiant independence post haste. The sooner he had her obedience, the easier living in such close quarters would be for both of them. He already found her presence unsettling.

  Her delicate figure under the tight black tunic was too gaunt. Graceful shoulders and muscular arms formed the top of a perfect hourglass figure. His hands could span her tiny waist with overlap. The slight parting of her lush lips and rapid breathing were the only indicators of her fear. He wondered briefly if Earthers kissed in the way Corians did…

  Darvan quickly stepped away from the tempting distraction. Shooting Vank, who watched on silently from the corner of the room, a skeptical glance, he questioned in Corian Standard, “This is the female that managed to evade your best hunters for nearly fourteen rotations?”

  “She is very canny, don’t let her size fool you,” Vank joined Darvan to take a look at the little captive. Darvan had to fight off the urge to push his brother away from the little female. How odd. None of the Earth females in the camps affected him like this…

  “Jorkan, do you think she is trainable?”

  “Of course, General,” came the smooth reply. “Would you like me to deliver her to you for a progress assessment in ten cycles or so?”

  Darvan saw Vank stiffen out of the corner of his eye. Clearly, Vank didn’t want Jorkan around the little Earther. If Darvan gave the captive into Jorkan’s care, he had no doubt the female would be mentally scarred. But this was a perfect opportunity to direct the Doranos male’s meddlesome attention elsewhere.

  “No, Jorkan, that won’t be necessary. While I’m on command rotation, you can pop into my quarters to make sure she’s making progress through the reconditioner. During her recovery periods, you can make sure she understands her duties as my personal servant.”

  “Very well,” Jorkan didn’t appear at all unhappy with his assignment. “Are you going to put the symbolic cuffs and collar on her?”

  “Of course.”

  Jorkan handed Darvan a simple black collar of narrum skin and a matching set of cuffs. Each small band had a ‘D’ shaped ring attached often used to tether or restrain a captive. Darvan fitted the accessories on Arianna with a heavy feeling in his stomach. The pinched look on her face said she understood exactly what was happening.

  “I’ll have your palm scan cleared to enter my quarters for work-cycle hours. Please get the captive situated now,” he dismissed Jorkan.

  “What’s on your mind, Vank?” Darvan leaned back against his desk and offered Vank a chair after the Doranos left taking Arianna with him.

  “Have you considered any of the petitions our warriors have filed for the Earth females?” Vank got straight to the point.

  “It’s been a single sleep cycle and I’ve been rather busy. I do have more to consider than the demands of the warriors, you know.”

  “I know you’re busy. There are several hundred thousand Earth females toiling alongside the males on the surface, crowded into dormitories. They can’t progress through the reconditioning modules very quickly because so many must share the equipment,” Vank gave him a speaking look. “They’d be more comfortable on-ship with their protectors. It might be worth talking to Dr. Balcar about a systematic approach to matching the petitioners with the potential claimed. He’s been doing some interesting research on the Hope.”

  “Would you like to handle the meetings with the High Council and plan the resistance strategy for the upcoming conflict with the Ventix while I see to the warrior morale, Vank?” Darvan asked drily.

  “No, sir. You always say you’re willing to listen to good ideas no matter the source,” Vank reminded.

  “Alright, I’ll contact Balcar,” Darvan folded his muscular arms across his chest. “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “Yes,” Vank said seriously, “keep the civilians away from the Earthers.”

  “I sent as many Doranos liaisons to the surface as I could to get them out of the warriors’ space. They had no discernable function in this military expedition aside from getting in the way. They’re known for their ability to organize and administrate, let them organize the Earthers.”

  “I’ve heard reports that they are already earmarking certain females for themselves.”

  “I have not granted the Doranos any females, Vank.”

  “Have you told them that? My sources say that certain of the captives are being reconditioned in Doranese.”

  “That was not my order. The law is very clear: only Doranos and Corian warriors may seek to claim conquered females. I will look into it.”

  The trial contingent of Doranos liaisons between the warriors and the High Council was not going well in his book. Tampering with the chain of communication, as he suspected Jorkan was doing, was bad enough, but, now, they were interfering with the hierarchy of military authority. The arrogant Doranos were interfering with his direct orders. The insubordination had to stop.

  Chapter Six

  Jorkan led Arianna through a dizzying number of hallways and the odd lift ride before he palmed open a large, sparsely decorated suite.

  “These are General Darvan’s personal quarters. You will reside here. The general has instructed me to begin your reeducation process. You will no longer speak English unless it is spoken to you first. Do you understand?”

  “No. I definitely do not understand. I only speak English,” she explained patiently.

  She darted a surreptitious, assessing look over her surroundings. They were standing in a small crescent shaped entry with three arched doorways. The doors directly to her left and right were closed. The larger doorway in front of them opened into a type of sitting room dominated by a set of plush tan chairs. They were so large that, if she were to climb up onto one and attempt to sit, her feet would dangle far above the floor like a child’s. The ceiling looked very high to her but that made since because the aliens she’d seen thus far stood between six-and-a-half and eight feet tall.

  There were no other exits that she could identify and no apparent windows. More importantly, she could see no avenue of escape. Where was an old-fashioned air duct when she needed one?

  Soft beige floors continued from the entryway throughout the space. Each wall was shaded a variant of a soft brown or muted tan. The pale alien glowed icily against the earthen tones.

  Leading her to the far wall, Jorkan touched another palm plate and spoke. Gripping her left hand, he pushed her palm firmly to the plate surface. A warm, tingling sensation flowed from the plate into her hand.

  “This is the machine we will use to recondition you,” he gestured to a rather large padded seat that slid from the wall. It resembled a plush, white dentist’s chair with a large, multi-armed children’s mobile attached above where the head would rest. Instead of pretty butterflies or images of animals, each arm of the mobile had a different device dangling from its end.

  “You will begin your first lesson now. I will return to check your progress. Be seated.”

  “What exactly does this ‘reconditioning’ entail?” Arianna backed stealthily away from the alien while he was busy swiping icons on the interface.

  “Actually, this machine is called an assimilator; however, we learned that you Earthers associate the word assimilation with a fictional concept that is both ridiculous and illogical. Why would we bother implanting you with cybernetics when we can simply reprogram your point of reference? To avoid the hysterics, we’ve rechristened the process ‘reconditioning’. Sometime
s, you will hear it referred to as ‘reeducating’.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just say so? That’s so much more palatable.”

  “I have things to do,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm. “Let’s move this along.”

  “Is this going to hurt?” Arianna stalled, looking desperately for a way out of whatever he had planned for her. No way was she going blindly into a frontal lobotomy. Didn’t these aliens at least have a closet she could hide in?

  “There might be some mild discomfort, slave. Now – Get. Over. Here,” he punctuated each word with a loud slap on the padded seat of the machine.

  “I’m very adverse to pain,” she stomped her foot for emphasis, though her bare feet on the spongy floor failed to give her words satisfactory punctuation.

  “Arianna, your life is no longer your own. The sooner you accept that, the better off you will be.” He lifted her bodily and tossed her into the chair.

  As soon as her body hit the seat, the chair molded itself around her as if it were a living thing. Thin metallic bands snaked from hidden compartments to restrain her movement. A helmet-like contraption with a thick visor lowered itself over her head, and suddenly she was home with her parents again.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  “Alright, Arianna, it’s time to surface,” the voice came to her as if it were echoing down a long tunnel.

  She didn’t want to surface. She felt safe and warm right where she was, but she wasn’t given a choice.

  “Up!”

  Jorkan gripped her shoulders forcing her to sit up. She was confounded to find herself up on a giant white chair. Her head swam as she struggled to reconcile the reality of who and where she was. Moments ago, she’d been a little girl playing with Bellara at her mother’s feet, listening to her father drone on about the latest tech advancements of the Corian Scientific Collective.

  Only….wasn’t her family from Earth?

  What’s wrong with me?

  “Your befuddled mind will clear soon.”

  She was anything but reassured by his bored tone.

  “Change into these clothes, please.”

  He heaved out a resigned sigh when she failed to make any move to comply.

  “Fine. Arianna! Raise your arms,” he commanded harshly.

  When at last she managed to raise her arms, he grasped the hem of her dress and peeled it up over her head. He pulled a more form-fitting and structured tank top over her head and plucked her up off the floor to slide a tight pair of shorts up her legs.

  In the deep recesses of her mind, she knew she should do these things for herself, that she didn’t want this heartless alien touching her. Instead, she helplessly watched him change her clothes. She was so tired. And so very sad.

  And, damn, did her head hurt.

  “Drink this,” he pressed an oddly shaped bottle of foul liquid into her hand and helped her raise it to her lips.

  The nasty drink eased the ache behind her eyes. She guzzled the whole bottle and gave him an expectant look.

  “You will become adept at surfacing from the reconditioning on your own. I’m told the first few times are the hardest.”

  He walked her over to a wall that looked like someone had glued clear plastic playing cards all over the surface.

  “You will run using this hologym and then I will feed you. After that, we will attempt one more session of reconditioning. Do you understand?” He spoke slowly and plainly, as if she were mentally deficient.

  “Yes, I understand you,” the words were an effort and she felt angry that he’d forced her to speak.

  “Running platform out, no hollo, incline tailored to Captive Arianna,” Jorkan commanded pressing his palm to a discreet plate.

  The piece of equipment that slid from the wall looked familiar. A surreal fuzz engulfed her mind. She’d used a treadmill in the gym of the government complex she had lived in after her mother disappeared. Government complex? She fought through the haze. Yes. That was real and…..right now….she was really on an alien ship. A prisoner.

  Jorkan propelled her onto the slightly raised surface and commanded, “Steady state heart rate. Increase by fifteen percent with intermittent periods of rest.”

  Close to an hour later, Arianna felt much more like herself. Sweat poured from her body. With every bead of perspiration, her mind felt sharper, more in focus. They could play with her perception of reality all they liked. In the end, they couldn’t change who she was. At her core, she was a survivor. Her fundamental vision would forever be freedom, and her steadfast goal, escape. She just had to figure out exactly how to pull that off.

  Chapter Seven

  The running platform chimed to signal the end of her program. Slowing to a walk, Arianna felt her new memories gel into a cohesive narrative. Now she understood that the machine they used to recondition her was using a sophisticated form of immersive learning to teach her Corian Standard and Corian cultural norms. She hypothesized that it hypnotically altered her brain waves in order to suspend her perception of reality. It was using her own basic memories as a template with which to re-educate her.

  In the right hands, the machine was an amazing educational tool. In the wrong hands, it would be a powerful propaganda machine. The simulated being that the program presented as her father was nothing like her memories of the real Frank Wellingcourt. The reconditioner was desensitizing her to the differences between herself and the Corians. By using her perception of herself and her past as the framework, it was teaching her empathy and understanding for the Corians and, in effect, the CGA as a whole. Fascinating. And dangerous.

  Jorkan strolled back into the suite as the platform came to a complete stop. His aristocratic features seemed to be perpetually frozen in a snooty expression.

  “This is ull,” he handed her a white candy-bar shaped lump. “It’s the perfect balance of protein, nutrients and fiber to help your brain adjust to the reconditioning.”

  She took an exploratory bite and spit it back out on his nifty black slipper.

  His bored, faintly disapproving expression never changed.

  “Ull is something one must adjust to eating,” he scraped the partially chewed glob from his foot. “But it is essential to neural cell regeneration. It’s also the only thing you’re going to get to eat.” He handed her a bottle of the viscous liquid.

  “Eat! Drink! You need to achieve several more milestones in the reconditioning program’s simulated environment before you will be able to follow complex instruction. Although, the general should be pleased with you. You have managed to advance through the program quite nicely. If you continue at this pace, you should be able to hold a relatively educated conversation within the next few rotations,” he seemed inordinately pleased with this last bit. His pink eyes glowed with a strange excitement.

  Arianna was slightly less confused when she emerged from the reconditioning trance the second time. She took Jorkan’s offering of fluid and food without protest. Well, without verbal protest. If aliens did have eyes in the backs of their heads, she’d probably be in big trouble.

  It was during her quick tour of the general’s quarters that she realized she was nearly unable to speak. Weariness dragged at the edges of her consciousness like weights on a drowning woman. Though she was functionally mute, she understood that Jorkan had been speaking to her in Corian Standard since she’d first emerged from the trance. Much like a young child, she was able to understand far more than she was able to articulate.

  “Come,” Jorkan took her proffered wrist, dragging her into the bathing room.

  Stripping her tank and shorts from her with impersonal hands, he shoved her into a large clear tube. A series of small black boxes circled the perimeter of the tube emitting cleansing sonic waves. Once the cycle completed, the door unsealed and he helped her out.

  His hands were much less impersonal when he smoothed her tunic dress into place. Arianna stepped gingerly away from his roving caress.

  “Water showers and baths are reserved for the gene
ral alone. You are to use the chemical bath or sonishower unless instructed otherwise. Normally, you would help one of the younger warriors serve the general’s last meal rather than eating your own meal now. He had a previous engagement this evening and should return shortly.”

  Arianna nodded her head listlessly to indicate she was listening.

  Noting her exhaustion, Jorkan gave her a patronizing smile that didn’t reach his cold eyes. “Your brain will form many new neural pathways while you sleep.”

  The suite’s main door slid open and the General strode into his quarters. It was hard for Arianna to gauge his age but he moved and spoke with blatant authority. This was a man, or male as the CORANOS preferred, who was accustomed to being instantly obeyed.

  “Jorkan, report,” he ordered without preamble, his tone arrogant.

  “Arianna can understand much of what we say now. With sleep, I expect she’ll have the ability to form rudimentary sentences in Corian Standard. She’s progressing through the program’s levels at a speed heretofore unseen. In spite of her diminutive size and emaciated appearance, her overall mental health and stamina are quite impressive for an Earther.”

  She scowled at Jorkan and the General barked out a stunned laugh.

  “I don’t think my captive cares for your assessment.”

  Maybe she’d make comments about their freaky looks and talk about them as though they weren’t there and see how they liked it. Yawn. Or maybe she’d just go to sleep and worry about it all tomorrow.

  “Thank you for your help. I’ll expect you back here after first meal,” the General summarily dismissed Jorkan.

  “Sir?” He seemed to want to protest but thought better of it.

  “Yes, Jorkan?”

  “Are you certain you wouldn’t like me to assume responsibility for Arianna first thing?”

  “If she’s advanced as far as you claim, I’m sure I’ll be able to instruct her on preparing and serving first meal without your assistance,” the General looked pointedly at the door.

  If she’d had the energy she would have stuck her tongue out at Jorkan’s pasty, snobby face.