Thumbelalien: A Space Age Fairy Tale

by J. M. Page

  “Psh.” He waved her off, almost falling forward as his arm threw him off-balance. His guard kept a firm hold of him, so he didn’t fall. “Not at all. Never better.”

  Great. He was on some kind of pain medication and it was making him loopy. If it was anything like the time Mom broke her leg, he wouldn’t remember any of this.

  As much as she’d been desperate to see Bain again, this wasn’t the state she wanted him in. He wasn’t useful like this. She needed him sharp and aware, not high and falling over. If they were going to find a way out of this, she’d have to do it alone.

  It looked like they were on the bridge of the ship. There were crew members at stations around the big room, paying them no mind, and a raised dais that looked over a wide-open windshield. The room had to be four stories tall, the ceiling receding into shadows at the very top, and there were open walkways along the perimeter of the circular room, allowing people to move freely between the stations on each level.

  But why had their guards brought them here? Unless…

  A huge Fibbun, more terrifying and imposing than the others, marched out of a different door, flanked by two guards of his own. His uniform was obviously more decorated than the others, and the moment he walked in, every other crew member stood and performed the same strange gesture — a salute of some sort, it seemed.

  Lina swallowed, sending a quick glance at Bain who was busy remarking on his guard’s strange appearance.

  “...and your eyes… how do you look forward like that?” he giggled.

  Yeah, he was definitely not going to be any help facing the Captain.

  The Fibbun she assumed to be the Captain of the ship took his place on the raised dais alone, his guards on either side of the steps leading up to it. He grunted something and the crew all took their seats again as Lina and Bain were ushered forward.

  Lina stumbled as her guard pushed her forward, her heart thumping madly, her head filled with the droning buzz of never-ending questions. What did they want with them? What were they going to do with them? Would they ever be free again? Would they even live through the day?

  The Captain started speaking, but Lina’s guard interrupted with something, pushing her until her toes connected with the riser of the first step leading up to the dais. She lurched forward, catching herself before she fell completely.

  The Captain barked an order to the bridge and a smaller Fibbun with bright blue veins under their mottled gray skin ran full-tilt to the dais, shoving Lina aside and tripping over itself to do the weird salute thing again before handing over a small metal box.

  The Captain spoke again.

  “You can understand this?” the box said.

  Lina nodded slowly. “Y-yes. Please, why are we here?”

  The Captain grumbled. “You don’t know?”

  “I—”

  “Because you’re monsters,” Bain said, his eyes barely open, his words slurring together.

  The box translated and there was a grumble of displeasure throughout the bridge, Fibbuns on all side taking offense and getting louder and angrier.

  “Please, he doesn’t know what he’s saying, he’s—”

  “I’m a prince,” Bain said, loud enough to echo in the huge space. “And kidnapping a prince is an act of war.”

  Please stop, Bain, Lina prayed, wishing that the drugs they’d given him for the pain had also rendered him temporarily mute.

  A new flurry of grunts and garbled sounds rose up and the Captain looked surprised by this new information, considering Bain carefully. He blinked, first one set of eyelids, then another, and his huge mouth moved in a way that Lina thought might be a smile, though she couldn’t really make out most of their expressions other than anger. That one seemed to be the default.

  The Captain tossed the metal box in his hands and the smaller Fibbun from earlier dove to catch it. Then the Captain said something that wasn’t translated, and Lina’s guard pulled her back again as the murmuring in the bridge died down. Bain’s guard hauled him up too, and they were both marched out of the room.

  Whatever chance she’d had of pleading their case, of asking for leniency, was gone now. Bain had shown all their cards and the whole hand hadn’t even been dealt. She wanted to be furious with him, but how could she be? He was high as a kite and didn’t know what he was saying. It was just unfortunate that they decided to take the drugged man at his word, rather than dismissing his claims as the ravings of a lunatic. Maybe she could still try to explain that. But she’d need to convince them to turn the translators back on.

  The guards led them down, deeper into the ship where the need for repairs was even more evident. Whole corridors were blocked off, lights out, airlocks sealed. There were puddles of various liquids — water, coolants, maybe even fuel? She couldn’t be sure — gathered along the edges of the hallways, with pipes overhead steadily dripping. Even the lights that worked were dim and flickering, though neither guard seemed to notice or care.

  They went through a set of three locked doors, each one slamming closed behind them before the next would open. Bain’s incessant insults reverberated from the walls the whole journey; Lina was glad that the guards weren’t translating what he was saying. He was venomous, full of hatred for this enemy he didn’t even know existed two days ago.

  But she could partially understand where he was coming from. He may not have known the details of the Fibbuns, but he’d grown up his entire life knowing about the destruction that befell his people and the fear that kept them locked in place and isolated. But for Lina, who didn’t grow up with any of that, who only wanted to know who her people were and what had happened to her parents, she couldn’t muster up the same hatred.

  Maybe the Fibbuns did kidnap her parents and force them to work. Maybe that’s why they sent her away. But she didn’t know; not really. And Bain’s constant barrage almost made her feel bad for them, even though they’d destroyed their ship, captured them, and now, seemed to be dragging them to the ship’s version of a dungeon. Even with all that, Bain’s insults felt low.

  After the third heavy door slammed down behind them, they were in a long hall of similar doors, each with a thick window inset. She had to stand on her tiptoes to see in, but the rooms looked plain with sparse furnishings, and each one they passed was empty.

  “Please,” she said, turning to the guard who’d been with her this whole time. Maybe he didn’t understand her words, but she felt they’d built some kind of rapport. “Please let me explain. He’s… He’s not feeling himself and I’m sure if we could just talk about this that—”

  The other guard stopped in front of one of the doors, wrestling to keep Bain upright as he tried to melt into the floor. If she wasn’t so worried about what the future held, the scene might almost be funny, Bain’s feet slowly sliding out from under him as the big Fibbun guard tried to use one hand to unlock the door all while keeping Bain standing.

  Finally, the other guard grunted and just let Bain crumple into a puddle on the floor. It was clear he wasn’t putting up any real resistance, and once the door was open, the guard dragged Bain into the room and deposited him in the middle of the floor, seemingly washing his hands of the whole mess. She couldn’t be sure, but the guard definitely looked relieved to not have the wayward prince as his charge anymore.

  “Please,” Lina pled to her guard, trying to convey with her eyes the desperation in her soul. She didn’t know what waited for them once those doors closed and locked them in, but she would do everything in her power to not find out.

  The guard hesitated as his comrade closed Bain’s door and moved down the line to open another. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes kept moving, looking in different directions as he stayed rooted in place with his slimy hand wrapped around her upper arm.

  The other Fibbun grunted something, gesturing to the open door down the way, but her guard just grunted back and re-opened Bain’s door, ushering Lina into the room-slash-cell beyond.

  “Please just lis
ten to me!” Lina cried as the door closed between them. Through the window, she saw her guard watching her, looking confused. She realized he’d done her a favor, putting her in the same room with Bain. They’d planned to keep them separated, but her guard had broken protocol to do this nice thing for her. Maybe he couldn’t listen to her right now, but this was a gesture of goodwill if she’d ever seen one. What did it mean?

  Chapter Nineteen

  She sighed, slumping against the door, knowing there was nothing more to be done at the moment. She flattened her palm against the window, looking out at the Fibbun who’d surprised her with this kindness. “Thank you,” she whispered, knowing he’d never hear her, but hoping he’d see the gratitude in her eyes.

  She might be locked in a jail cell on an enemy spaceship with no way home, but at least she wasn’t alone. At least she had Bain.

  The guard grunted a sentence to his buddy and Lina watched them both retreat down the hallway as far as she could until they disappeared through the airlocks.

  For a long moment, Lina just pressed herself against the door, watching that airlock through the window, praying someone would come back through it as the pressure of hopelessness grew heavier and heavier, crushing her slowly from the inside.

  Bain moaned behind her and Lina took a great shuddering breath, bolstering herself before she turned to face him.

  Instantly, her heart ached. He looked so helpless and broken there curled up on the floor. And all of this because he’d tried to save her, the fool.

  “Come on, let’s get you into bed,” she said, crouching down to the floor.

  This cell of theirs wasn’t too bad, really. It reminded her of the quarantine area — everything white and plain, though perhaps not entirely sterile. There was a cot attached to one wall, big enough for a Fibbun, so plenty large enough for the two of them, a table with a chair, and another chair with a little light above it. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it wasn’t really inhumane either.

  Bain grumbled and moaned again, completely limp and useless as she tried to heave him up toward the cot.

  “Come on,” she grunted, using all her strength to just drag him across the metal floor. He wasn’t even conscious at this point, his head lolling to the side, his eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Hopefully these drugs wear off fast,” she muttered, knowing no one was listening. She wanted to talk to him, to ask him about her doubts, to get a feeling for how he really felt about all of this, but there was no use until the drugs wore off and he was back to normal.

  Finally, she managed to heave him up into the cot, bringing the thin blanket up to cover him and tucking it in on all sides like he’d done to her when she was still under Farita’s care. How far they’d come since then. How the tables had turned.

  “You just get some rest and get to feeling better,” she said, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead.

  At first, his face was scrunched up, scowling in his sleep, but eventually the expression softened and he seemed to fall into a restful, dreamless sleep.

  Lina yawned, exhausted though not really tired enough to sleep. Besides, she wanted to keep an eye on Bain. She sat in the chair at the table, slumping forward with her elbows resting on it. It was going to be a long, boring wait.

  A light above her flicked on and there was a soft chime as it turned green, lighting the table the same color. She frowned, but before she could even wonder what was going on, the wash of green light changed to a projection of symbols — Fibbun words. None of it made sense to her though, and she wondered why the projection existed, especially over her table. Was this some sort of glitch? Was she supposed to be seeing it?

  Lina scowled, staring at the symbols, trying through sheer force of will to make sense of them. But they remained as confusing as ever, their meaning elusive.

  Though the projection itself was odd, it was equally odd that it was a static screen. Nothing changed on it, none of the words altered at all. Everything was very still, like it was waiting for some response. But how could she interact with it?

  She looked up at the projector again, squinted against the bright green light. She couldn’t see anything though, her eyes coming away with spots.

  “Oh-kay…” she exhaled, shaking out her hands before gently tapping the surface of the table, barely able to watch what happened through squinting eyes.

  The moment her finger touched the table, the symbols around it lit up and then the projector shut off with another beep.

  “Great. No idea what that did,” she grumbled, climbing up on the chair to get closer to the projector. It was still too far above her head to access, but she could see a sensor next to it, something that must have been monitoring the reflected light to identify her selection. But what had that selection meant?

  She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Another cheerful beep sounded and Bain grumbled, pulling the blankets tighter around himself as he rolled over in his sleep. Immediately following the beep, the wall next to the table opened up and a shelf bearing a plate of steaming food extended. The shelf retracted, letting the plate drop the inch or so with a clatter, but nothing spilled.

  Lina wasn’t entirely sure that it was food, but the way her stomach grumbled at the sight and smell of it was a good enough indicator that she should at least taste it. Maybe it was poisoned. Maybe it was food she’d not be able to digest. But at this point, she’d gone almost two days without anything to eat and she didn’t care. She was starving.

  The food on the plate looked like some kind of stew, thick and meaty with a spicy, savory scent that made the mouth water. Whatever it was, it was enticing. There was a spoon attached to the side of the plate — it never ceased to amaze her how such different cultures could find the same answer to similar problems — and she pulled it free, taking a spoonful of the foreign stew and bringing it to her lips.

  She tasted it slowly at first, with just the tip of her tongue grazing the hot contents of the spoon, but then that tiny taste turned to a mouthful and before she knew it, the whole plate was empty and she was licking it clean with her fingers.

  It wasn’t just edible food, it was delicious food. Far better than she would have expected, and now with her belly full, she began to grow tired. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours from when she’d been woken up by alarms on their escape ship to now, but somehow it felt like days had passed.

  She looked over her shoulder to Bain, sleeping peacefully tangled in the blanket. It looked so inviting to just crawl into the cot next to him, but she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of them both being asleep in here at the same time. That seemed dangerous. Besides, if she went to sleep and Bain woke up hungry, he wouldn’t know how to make the food delivery system work. Not that she was completely sure she understood it.

  And there was still the chance that he’d wake up raving mad and make matters worse before she could explain her concerns to him. Before they could talk about her doubts. He could start the war anew before she ever got the chance to tell him there might be another way.

  So she needed to stay awake. It was easier said than done. Already, with her elbow on the table and her chin in hand, Lina’s eyes drifted slowly downward, her head lolling forward.

  She snapped her head back up and shook it, trying to wake herself.

  Just think, she told herself. Find something to keep busy with.

  That was also easier said than done. The room didn’t seem to offer much in the way of distractions or entertainment. And the harder she tried to think of something, the more all she could focus on was the rattling of an air vent in the corner. It was vibrating just enough to be a constant annoyance and once she’d homed in on it, there was no ignoring it.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll deal with that first,” she muttered under her breath, as if talking to someone bigger that was steering her towards it. Without anyone to talk to most of her life, Lina had grown accustomed to talking to the Universe at large. It often seemed to push her in unlikely directions, but th
ey’d always worked out previously.

  She crouched down, looking around the room for the vent before spotting it under the cot in the corner.

  “Of course,” she grumbled, crawling under the bed to access the vent. Fixing the rattle was only a matter of tightening a couple of bolts, but while she was under the bed, she spotted a puddle on the other side of the room, hiding behind the chair.

  She shimmied out from under the bed, the rattling mercifully gone, and wandered over to the other corner where a leak in the ceiling made a steady drip drip into the puddle below.

  She looked around for something to dry up the spill with, but found nothing available and still the drip drip came steadily. She couldn’t hear it before, over the rattling of the air vent, but now it was driving her crazy.

  Climbing up on the corner chair, she used all her strength to pry the ceiling panel away from the others enough to find the source of the leak. If any guards were around, the sound of metal scraping and bending should have alerted them, but no one came.

  Up in the ceiling, there was hardly any space, just enough for pipes and air ducts, not enough room for even her to fit. So it wouldn’t serve as an escape route, at the very least.

  Still, she managed to locate the dripping pipe and ran her fingers along it until she found the split where liquid was escaping. She wasn’t sure what the liquid was — it was clear and odorless, for all she knew it could be water — but she still wanted to be careful about touching it and letting it stay on her skin. Some acids didn’t start burning until hours later or it could be something that would cause an allergic reaction. There was no telling, but caution was always her best bet.

  But without feeling her way around, how would she patch it?

  She remembered the diode in her pocket, amazed that it hadn’t been confiscated in Quarantine or lost on the ship somewhere. Mom’s present had come in handy way too many times recently; she was never happier to have it.

  Connecting the circuit that turned the light on, Lina perched on her tiptoes on the back of the chair and thrust the diode into the space she’d made. Now it was easy to see where the leak was coming from and the rust gathering around it. She hand-tightened a few of the connections, but the problem lay with a crack in the body of the pipe, not any of the seams and she’d need something to repair it with.