Alien Mine

by Marie Dry

  "No human food. Eat warrior food."

  She was getting used to his face showing no expression, none that she could read anyway. But if she paid careful attention to the tone of his growls, she could glean quite a bit.

  The young alien returned with four silver stools, which he set around the table. When he passed too close to her, Zacar growled and the poor young warrior quickly moved away. He walked over to the crates they'd stacked earlier, returned with a cylindrical metal container, and dumped a revolting, slimy-green mess into each of their plates. She shuddered and quickly filled her plate with the stew she'd made. Even if her life depended on it, she wouldn't eat their green...whatever it was.

  The kettle on the stove whistled. The four aliens half rose from their stools, looking ready for battle.

  "W--would any of you like some coffee?" she stammered, afraid they'd kill her kettle.

  "No," Zacar responded for all of them. He advanced on her and she moved to keep the table between them.

  Moving with a grace and precision she envied, Zacar seated her then sat facing her. Too close to her. Close enough for her to glance up and see the veins pulsing in his jaw, his imposing figure towering next to her.

  She had a bad premonition when he picked up her fork. Looking at it for a moment, he stuck it into the stew then regarded the meat with what she could only describe as suspicion. He put a finger over the small helping on the fork with intense concentration, squashing the meat, then held the fork against her lips. It took her a moment to figure out he'd been testing the temperature.

  "I really prefer to feed myself," she said barely moving her lips, in case he tried to shove the fork into her mouth while she talked.

  "Zacar..." he said then seemed to search for words. "Zacar feed breeder."

  Looking at the squashed vegetables on her fork, she was tempted to tell him she didn't want to eat anything his finger had been on. Still too scared of him to resist, she reluctantly parted her lips. He gently put the fork into her mouth, taking in every slight move she made. Everything around them faded, until only the compelling alien in front of her registered.

  He scooped up the next forkful and she gripped his arm to stop him. Muscles of flexible steel moved under her hand. Swallowing, she jerked her hand away and motioned to his food.

  "Why don't you eat your food before it gets cold? I really don't mind feeding myself." It would also put a stop to this strange intimacy causing all kinds of forbidden reactions in her body.

  With a roar, he jumped up, grabbed her close, and snarled what sounded like threats in his alien language into her terrified face. Too scared to do anything but tremble, she cringed as far back as the cage of his arms allowed. At last, he came to the end of his tirade and shook her softly. His voice was pure gravel when he continued. "Have omgraz'ra. Feed my breeder."

  "O--omgraz?" she asked, her voice faint.

  "Omgraz'ra. Honor."

  She curled her lip. He might roar about honor, but she saw no honor in killing babies and calling a helpless woman a breeder.

  "Well, it's not an honor to me." Her words probably would've had more impact if she hadn't mumbled them. Coward, she screamed in her head.

  He leaned right down in her face. "Breeder."

  Suddenly, she snapped. She'd had enough. First raiders then an alien and snow, then more aliens, hypothermia and almost frostbite.

  She stood on her toes and glared at him. "You can call me by my name, or even hey you, but if you call me breeder one more time, I will sock you." She punctuated each word by tapping her index finger against his rock hard chest. It hurt, but she didn't care. It felt good to let him have it for once.

  He dipped his head in an almost curious gesture and looked at her finger tapping his chest.

  Her fury evaporated, and Natalie withdrew her hand. Was she crazy, arguing with an alien that held her life in his vicious claws?

  "Breeder name honor," he said with exactly the same inflection he'd used earlier.

  Natalie clenched her teeth until she thought her molars would reach her tonsils. It was like talking to a machine that just never stopped. "On Earth, it's not an honor. Please stop calling me that." She hated the cajoling note in her voice.

  "No." He leaned forward, into her face. Intimidating her, invading her space with his thighs burning against hers, his shoulders cut off the light one of the other aliens had installed.

  Natalie grabbed her hair and tugged viciously. "What's wrong with you? At least try and understand my point of view."

  "Zacar feed Natlia." He took her hands out of her hair, and smoothed the long brown strands back in place.

  Natalie slumped forward, her forehead thumping against his chest, and she moaned in despair. Machine. He was one hundred percent machine. If she cut him, surely oil would bleed out.

  His rough paw tipped her chin up while he glared down at her. "No make sounds at me. I feed you now," he said, seated her and himself, then took up the fork again.

  She blushed when she noticed the other three aliens were waiting until Zacar fed her before eating their green slop. The way the scarred one pointedly stared at her sent shivers down her spine. And not the kind she got when Zacar looked at her. She'd have to make a point never to allow that one to catch her alone.

  At last, her meal was over. She quickly grabbed her glass of water and gulped it down. Sitting back, she smirked at him. He stared at her, but didn't try to stop her. He just ate his food in a few neat swallows before drinking something from a metal cup.

  "Time for...plant."

  "What plant?" she asked in confusion.

  "Plant in head," he said, while touching her temple.

  "Uh, do you mean an implant?"

  Wait, did he mean he was going to put an implant in her? Natalie got that insect-encased-in-glue feeling again and inched back from him. She held her hand up palm out. "Stay back."

  "Will not hurt Natlia." With exquisite predatory grace, he walked to the chest where she kept the TC and picked up something. When he turned, she saw he held two small round metal objects that looked vaguely rubbery in the palm of his hand.

  "What is that?" He is joking, right? He had to be. There was no way he was actually planning to put those things inside her head. Did he want to control her or something?

  "You would say..." He searched for a word. "...track."

  She jumped up and held her hands out, in a blocking gesture, in front of her. "A tracking device? Oh, hell no! You're not tagging me like I'm some animal, the way they used to do."

  "This also learn you speak. Help understand."

  She shook her head vigorously, taking a few more steps back from him. His English was improving daily. There was no need for her to learn Alien via an implant.

  "Where exactly would you want to implant that?" Careful to appear casual, she inched back. What if he turned her into a mindless idiot like in that ancient Stepford Wives movie they showed on the cell last month? "How does it work?" Hoping he didn't recognize her interest as false, she took another small step toward the back of the cave.

  "I put against head. Learns brain." He held the two patches against his temple to demonstrate.

  She could see his mouth move, but heard no sound. Her vision started to close around her until she saw him through a dark tunnel. All sound receded.

  No, I can't faint. If she fainted, she might wake up with who knew what in her brain. Determined not to succumb to the panic threatening to overtake her, she forced deep breaths through her lungs.

  "No--way." Nothing was going to be wired to her brain, especially not some alien gadget.

  "No need fear," he said. His attempt at being reassuring failed miserably. He advanced on her, pressing a few buttons on a small box-like thing he also held in his hands.

  Was that some kind of remote control? Was he programming those patches?

  "Maybe we should talk about this. For all we know, your technology will fry my brain if you try to put it in me."

  "Work," he sai
d, almost casually.

  She ran.

  Right now, she was really motivated to outrun anyone, even someone with his speed. Before she could blink, he had her immobilized against him, with his arm clamped against her back. She looked up at him and blinked away tears. Why? He'd saved her from hypothermia, fed her so carefully. Why was he doing this?

  Cradling the back of her head gently in his palm, he pressed the devices against her temples and she sobbed openly. She cringed away from him when he pointed the small boxlike thing in his hand at her.

  "Please Zacar, don't do this."

  "It helps you," he said.

  It was strange to see alarm on Zacar's face. She'd thought their facial muscles incapable of showing expression.

  Everything turned fuzzy, her body suddenly so heavy she couldn't stop her boneless slump.

  ***

  Zacar grabbed his breeder before she could hit the floor and shouted commands to Viglar and the others. They'd tested this. Made sure it wouldn't harm her. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

  "What happened," Viglar asked in his usual calm voice.

  "She fainted when I calibrated the implant. You assured me the tests were conclusive. That she couldn't be harmed by our technology."

  "Put her down on the bed," Viglar said. "I'll have a look,"

  ***

  Natalie came to on her bed, consumed by a blinding headache. She curled into a tight ball. Had the alien whacked her with his sword? Fed her some alien cocktail that left her with the mother of all hangovers? It felt like something crawled inside her brain, trying to force its way out through her eyeballs. She moaned. Whatever he'd put in her was splitting her head in two.

  "She dies, you follow."

  Ice scraping over rocks. She would recognize that voice blindfolded in a room full of a hundred aliens. Even now, with a splitting headache and more angry at him than she'd ever been at anyone, his voice caused shivers to tingle through her body.

  Biting her lip to stop moans of pain escaping, she lifted her eyelids. Even that hurt. Zacar and the doctor, Viglar, towered over her.

  The scanner the doctor pointed at her had her forgetting the pain in her head. She could barely struggle upright, but with the doctor pointing his scanner thingy at her chest, she felt way too vulnerable to remain lying down. "I told you alien stuff won't work in my brain."

  Zacar helped her sit up with a hand on her lower back. "You are well?" He still talked in a rough, grating voice, but now he didn't sound like a foreign barbarian anymore.

  "You can speak English perfectly now?" She should be glad but his broken sentences had made him seem vulnerable, more human.

  "The translation patch allows you to understand me."

  It was strange hearing him speak in whole sentences. Was she now understanding Alien or did he speak English. Trying to figure that out made her headache worse. The doctor pointed the scanner at her again and she put her hand on her head.

  "Please tell him to put that thing away. It's making my headache worse."

  "Viglar will heal you." He looked at the doctor, the menace in his voice conveying a silent or else.

  Pure terror ripped through her like the wind on a cold winter's day. If he could treat his own warriors that way, what would he do to her if he considered her redundant, weak?

  "I'm fine, really."

  "You do not look fine." His voice still had its familiar gravelly roughness, but he sounded like a stranger to her when he talked in such complete sentences.

  She inched toward the door of her tent. "I'm cured. Please, I just want to watch the cell cast," she said, trying to sound normal and healthy. She hesitated. "Never mind. I don't have any time left on the cell." With no time left, all she could watch was the news. And the last thing she needed after such a horrible day was any more depressing stories about raiders or more lies from the government.

  "You do not feel pain anymore?"

  "No." It still felt as if crickets chirped inside her skull but she refused to let him see. Who knew what else he would do to her brain to fix it?

  Zacar led her from the tent, to the TC. He motioned to the younger-looking alien, who was fiddling with her cell. Her fear forgotten, she rushed over to where he steadily took her pink TC apart. It had taken six pay checks and careful budgeting to be able to afford that model.

  "Hey, leave my TC alone. It's impossible these days to get them in from the cities."

  Determined to save what she could, she lunged forward to grab the cell from his hand. Zacar growled and picked her up, moving her back with frightening ease.

  "Hey, let me go. Ouch. My head hurts too much for this."

  The young alien cringed away from her, as if she had some vicious disease. Keeping a wary eye on Zacar, he continued to fiddle with her cell. He took something flat and shiny out of his pocket. It vaguely reminded her of the doctor's gadget. Natalie winced when he broke her TC into even smaller pieces.

  Sadly shaking her head, she sagged in Zacar's grip. She regretted moving her head when it throbbed even more. When he relaxed his hands, she walked away.

  "Well, there goes my next six TC hours," she grumbled, her headache the size of Yellowstone National Park.

  Zacar growled something her translator didn't catch. The doctor immediately came over and pressed something against her neck before she could flinch away. Instant relief.

  She glanced back to where the young alien was dismantling her property, surprised to see her TC was whole again. The warrior put down the TC, pressed a button, and the menu appeared. One glance at the image hovering in the middle of her cave told her she had access to a lot more than she could access before.

  "Yes!" She pumped her hand in the air and squealed with pure excitement and all the aliens spun around, their weapons drawn. She stumbled back. The other two appeared from outside, ready to take on an unknown enemy. The surly alien looked real interested in slaughtering her.

  "Why did you scream?" Zacar growled.

  "Uhh--sorry. I guess...what I mean is, I was just excited at having all those programs and movies available again." She could feel her cheeks heating and fidgeted under their stares.

  "Don't women on your planet scream with excitement?" She didn't do brazen well and ended up frozen under three sets of black and one set of red eyes pinning her in place.

  He didn't answer and she twisted her hands. Sheer nerves had her speaking to the young alien. "Won't you tell me your name again?"

  "Why you want to know?" Zacar growled at her. If he had any kind of facial expression, it would have been pure suspicion.

  "I just wondered, uh, who's the guy who fixed the TC, so I could thank him."

  At last, Zacar grated, "aZzzzgr."

  "Azagor?"

  Zacar nodded.

  She had the funny feeling that as long as he heard a Z and an R he agreed with her pronunciation of their names.

  "Nice to meet you, Azagor." The poor young alien froze in place, flicking nervous glances at Zacar. "Thank you for fixing my TC," she added.

  Clearly losing interest, the doctor and surly guy continued taking over her cave.

  Beaming a fake smile at Zacar and Azagor, she moved to the TC lying on the wooden chest and stumbled over the homemade cushion that served as her couch. She touched the call option hovering near her face. Nothing happened.

  "Can you fix the TC so I can make a call?" Silence greeted her question. Once again, if Zacar's face had been capable of expression, she knew it would've said get real.

  He pointed to the TC, and the young alien pressed some buttons on the activated virtual display. Her call log hovered above the chest. She fidgeted. Why would they want to know whom she'd called?

  Julia's number came up. She cringed when they played back a few of her conversations. Who knew the TC automatically recorded every call made?

  Zacar turned to her and clasped his hand around her neck. It was not a loving gesture. "Call your friend. Tell her you are snowed in and will call later." His thum
b rubbed over the pulse in her throat that beat double time.

  "You'll really allow me to speak to her?" Maybe she could get a distress signal to her friend with hand signals.

  "No visual," he said, as if he'd read her mind. Was that another function of the implants? "You tell her about us and I'll kill her." He said it as if killing Julia would be as easy as swatting a fly.

  Natalie's knees struggled to support her weight. Would he really kill her friend if she tried to tell her about the aliens?

  His thumb continued to caress the wildly beating pulse in her neck.

  "Why?" She never thought they'd allow her to contact the outside world. Ever.

  "No one can know about us."

  "I meant, why you are allowing me to talk to her?" Could she tap out help somehow without alerting Zacar.

  "She won't come looking if you say you are all right." His hand caressed her nape almost absently. Her skin came alive, every nerve ending painfully sensitive and sending sensual messages to parts of her that she didn't want alerted.

  Very clever. But she wasn't going to waste this opportunity. Julia was her only hope.

  Zacar pressed the button to connect the call. His hand tightened around her neck in a subtle reminder. "I am listening. Do not test me."

  The TC beeped then she heard Julia's voice. "Natalie? Thank heavens. I was so worried. Are you okay?" Julia asked.

  Natalie cleared her throat, very aware of the hand around her neck. "I'm fine. There's no help for it, I'm snowed in." Zacar's hand, still around her neck, continued to caress her while he stared intently down at her. She relaxed slightly when he didn't react to her subtle plea.

  "Do you want me to ask the sheriff to try and get you out?" Julia asked.

  "No, they don't need to help. I'm well stocked and warm."

  "That's just as well. I'm afraid they'd have to come with the rover and I'm not sure they'd make it. The hovercraft's broken again. Most of our roads are inaccessible as well and the sheriff's department haven't been paid for a few months now."