by Phil Geusz
pretty. She looked like Mom. "We're hostages," I explained. "My brother and I. He's in five-nineteen."
Her eyebrows rose past her bangs. "Hostages?"
"Sort of, but not exactly." I took a few moments to explain about how there wasn't an exact English word for it, and what the differences were. "It kind of sucks," I explained, a single tear squeezing its way down my cheek despite my best efforts. "I mean . . . we didn't want to, and Mom and Dad didn't want for us to. But . . ."
"My dear heavens!" Linda the assistant hotel manager—for by now I'd read her nametag—gushed, her face now pale under her makeup. "I . . . I . . ."
"It is indeed an unpleasant situation," a new voice interrupted as Mr. Li opened his door and stepped into the hall between us. "But it is as it must be." He sighed and looked at the floor. "Being on the losing side of a war has its consequences."
She frowned, then looked back and forth between my tutor and me. "It's absolutely horrible!"
Li nodded. "I can only agree. And yet . . ." His eyes narrowed. "Things could be much worse, for each and every one of us. While Robert here has done nothing wrong—he wasn't to my knowledge instructed to keep this matter secret—there has been no official announcement yet. For obvious reasons."
"Yes," she agreed, nodding vigorously. "Very obvious! Now on top of everything else they're taking our children as hostages!"
Li took a moment to swallow before replying. "They mean it as a gesture of respect. The English word 'hostage,' as the boy said, is an inaccurate and unfortunate representation of an alien concept. He's to be educated and raised as one of their elite."
"How many more child-hostages will they be taking?" she demanded next. "All of them?"
"I . . ." Mr Li shook his head. "You don't understand, ma'am. It's not—"
"You're a damn collaborator, is all you are!" the woman hissed. Then she spat in Mr. Li's face.
"Please," he tried again. "You must—"
But it was too late. By then she was well past us, legs pumping and arms swinging, making for the main desk. "Collaborator!" she cried again. "I hate you!"
"Mr. Li," I finally said, breaking the awkward silence. "I—"
"Hush!" he said, raising a warning finger. "You've not misbehaved, as I said. That's not at all the same, however, as saying you've done nothing unwise." His brows lowered, then he pursed his lips and nodded. "I must," he finally said, clearly coming to some sort of decision but uncomfortable with the answer. "I simply must." Then he looked at me and swung his room's door wide open. "Come inside," he ordered. "Sit on my bed and wait. I'll be with you in just a moment."
I did as instructed, not that I had much choice. Li's hand now grasped mine, and while his grip was gentle I could sense iron bands lying closely underneath the soft flesh. He led me to the bed, which I sat on as instructed. Then, hesitating one last time, he picked up the room's phone and dialed a number. "This is Li," he said in his near-perfect Gonther. "Lord Rapput said I might call upon him in the event of difficulties. I fear that moment has come." There was a long silence, then Li explained about Linda the hotel manager. "I don't believe the boy did anything willfully wrong. He'd received no instructions not to speak freely. But the consequences of a premature leak—"
"Yes, Li!" a voice chimed in so loudly that I could make out its words halfway across the room. It was Rapput. Or perhaps Uncle Rapput, I ought to be calling him now. "You overheard every word?"
"Yes, my lord," Li answered, nodding even though Rapput couldn't possibly see the gesture.
"You've acted rightly," Rapput decided after a moment's hesitation of his own. "She shall be arrested immediately and held until there’s a greater understanding between our cultures on this delicate issue."
"Of course, my Lord," Li agreed.
"Yes," Rapput repeated. "You've done well indeed, Mr. Li. Thank you."
"It's my pleasure to be of service," he replied smoothly, sounding quite pleased with himself. As well he ought to be from his point of view, I supposed; I'd never heard Rapput thank anyone for anything until then! But that poor woman—she might be jailed for years.
Was it Rapput's fault? Li's? Or just maybe mine?
"You might want to take a few minutes," Rapput continued, "to explain to my nephews that from this moment until we're at least one Jump from this star that they're to speak to no one outside the family without my personal permission."
"Of course, my lord!" Li replied. "I'll take care of that immediately, even before examining the teaching machines."
"Perfect," Rapput agreed. "And with that, good night."
9
It was anything but a good night. Mr. Li carefully explained to both Tim and I that we were to speak to no one about anything. Then he asked questions to make absolutely certain we both understood fully. That all by itself was enough to creep us out. For the first time I realized that we were about to be completely and totally cut-off from practically the entire human race. Then we hit the teaching machines for a little while.
Sure enough, the academic stuff was all way below our level; math was math wherever one went in the universe, after all. Mr. Li set aside the arithmetic classes for the moment, promising he knew some tricks that'd have us thinking in base twelve in no time flat, a system which the Artemu had for some reason adopted despite having five fingers and four toes. It scared me to death, base twelve did! I doubted I’d ever learn to do such weird math!
Li chose to begin with a language lesson, since all three of us were reasonably proficient already, and we spent a pleasant hour listening to young, high-pitched voices ask simple questions of their "Respected Instructor." This was all straightforward; even some of the alien elements like having an indicator light blink yellow for "wrong," red for "correct," and orange for "somewhere in-between" was simple enough to figure out. But the rest of it . . . Even our new tutor squinted at the screen, baffled, as our virtual classmates lined up and placed their hands on each other's heads at frequent intervals, and all of us fairly slavered over the tantalizing glimpses we kept catching of what appeared to be a basic, elementary school-type globe that sometimes appeared in the background. The Artemu were almost completely unforthcoming with information about their homeworld, or for that matter the rest of the universe that still lay locked away from us. Such information was to be doled out only on an as-needed or as-earned basis, and sadly we men of Earth hadn't accomplished much in either category yet.
Then it was bedtime. Mr. Li shut off the teaching machine and ushered us back to our rooms. "My door," he explained with a small smile, "will be unlocked. It will remain unlocked every night from now on, until either you two are no longer in my charge or have grown into men in your own right. Come to me any time for any reason. I'll do everything within my power to help and protect you, even unto the cost of my own life. Do you understand me?"
First Tim nodded, then I did too. "You . . ." I began, not sure how to phrase things. "In the living room back home . . ."
He held up his hand palm outward in a "stop" gesture. Then he cupped his ears and pointed at the walls.
Timothy nodded. "Privacy is so hard to come by."
Li smiled, his face seeming to glow. "Another day, under other circumstances, perhaps we shall discuss human-type living room issues. In the meantime, we've all had a difficult, demanding day, and tomorrow looks no better." He yawned. "In years to come we shall spend much of our time together on exercise and physical development. Today, however, we can afford to make an exception."
I was absolutely exhausted. So was Tim, apparently—he yawned just as I did.
"Right," Li agreed with a nod. "As I said, my door shall remain unlocked. Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite!"
"That's just what Mom always says!" Tim replied before I could unstop my tongue. "Every night!"
"What a remarkable coincidence!" Li observed. Then he smiled wider than ever and was gone.
Back home at the ranch Tim and I slept in separate bedrooms but shared
a sink, toilet, and shower. I felt lonely as I brushed my teeth in more than half of a sink for almost the only time ever and bathed without fear of being interrupted by a glassful of ice-water tossed over the top of the shower curtain. I'd felt the same way back then that I did now; it was hard to get ready for bed without someone to talk to and joke with. How was I supposed to relax and try to make sense of the day?
Somehow I eventually found myself under the covers with the lights out, but even as tired as I was all I could manage was to toss and turn. Up until yesterday I'd led a fairly simple, straightforward life. I'd been a rancher's son and half a set of twins, and the life of a rancher's son was hardly a complex thing. I'd hunted, fished, played, and done school-time with my mother instead of attending the public places she didn't like very much. Looking back, it all seemed like a sunny, happy dream. Having a twin had only made it better. But now it was all gone away forever, except for Timothy. I'd never hunt on the ranch again, never hug Mom after getting a math problem three grades ahead of me right, never listen to Dad as he rode about the ranch pointing out landmarks and telling the stories of our forebearers. All of that was gone, gone, gone! And who knew when Timmy might be taken away as well by aliens who didn't seem to care in the least what was good for us or what we wanted?
Pretty soon I was crying worse than anytime I could ever remember. I was too old