Alien Commander's Captive

by Ashley Hunter

  No sooner had I thought his name than the wall split apart with a mighty crack, stone crumbling to piles at my feet. I leaped back in surprise, but the droid only calmly gestured to the dark opening. “My master awaits within,” and then disappeared back down the hallway in the direction we’d come.

  Summoning my courage, I stepped into the opening in the wall.

  3: THE COMMANDER

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light. The hallways had been obnoxiously bright. Here, the only light source seemed to be radiating from the window opposite me that stretched the entire length of the room.

  It offered a spectacular view of the setting sun, now half submerged behind blue hills in the distance. And-could it be? I took a few steps close to the window. Yes, it was unmistakable.

  Nearly every inch of ground that the light touched was blanketed in the most luscious vegetation I had ever seen. Towering green trees gave way to blooming flowers of every shade, interspersed with plants that sported what I could only assume were native Dionus fruit. And in the very center of all the earthly riches was a tranquil lake, reflecting back the reds and blacks of the approaching night sky. After a week of staring at nothing but sand, I drank in the sight like a person dying of thirst.

  “How does it compare with your Earth?”

  I looked around in surprise; I’d been so engrossed in the view I hadn’t realized I wasn’t alone. He stood with his back towards me at the far end of the magnificent window, a black outline against the crimson-shaped landscape, staring out onto his world.

  “It’s-it’s certainly beautiful,” I tried diplomatically.

  He chuckled gently. The sound inexplicably filled me with warmth, as if I’d swallowed hot chocolate after a day out in the blizzard.

  “I suppose I can’t fault you for your loyalty to your home. You could show me the realm of the gods, and I’d still think this corner of Dionus the most beautiful place in the universe.”

  “There is something truly special about being home,” I agreed softly.

  Commander Zenon turned to face me. His gaze was just as intense as I remembered, his cobalt eyes seeming to almost burn in the glow of the setting sun. He’d traded out his linen shawl for a well-tailored top that existed somewhere between a vest and a sweater.

  I noted with some disquiet that it was undone several inches below his throat, exposing a few more glimpses of his well-muscled chest. Although clean-shaven, his hair was a stormy mass of curls. The darkness of his hair and the whiteness of his clothes only made his eyes all the more vivid in his captivating face.

  He bowed courteously. “Thank you for joining me for dinner. Would you like to sit?”

  I tore my attention away from him; between the beautiful landscape and the sight of the commander in what had to be his tightest pair of pants, I hadn’t noticed there was even furniture. The whole room was built of nothing but stately dark marble, and contained only a long table that sat parallel to the window.

  There were two chairs, one at either end, and in the center was a bouquet of vivid blooms that smelled like some combination of lavender and honey. I made my way to the chair closest, running my fingers along the table’s cool, even surface, allowing myself a moment of marvel. Just as my cavern was breathtaking in its naturalistic beauty, so this room was stunning in its elegant simplicity.

  The commander took the other chair. Sitting down, my eyes caught on a portrait that hung opposite the window, on the wall I’d just entered. Its subject was a ridiculously beautiful woman, her dark hair piled into waves of curls on her head. She wore an outfit very similar to the commander’s, though in shades of purple, and an intricate metal breastplate that emphasized her ample bust.

  As I stared at it, the portrait seemed to move slightly-I could swear I saw it blink and breathe; some kind of hologram, perhaps. The portrait's expression never changed, though, her rosebud mouth firm and her violet-blue eyes unsmiling. It was the only wall decoration in the otherwise empty room. She looked incredibly familiar, though I couldn’t put my finger on how exactly.

  “Who is the lady?” I pointed to the moving painting.

  He glanced at it, his expression unreadable. “A lady I once knew,” he said simply.

  “She’s very beautiful,” I observed.

  The commander smirked, enjoying his own private joke. “I think you’ll find that’s not unusual here.”

  “Everyone’s beautiful on your planet?”

  “Where do you think your people got their ideas for gods?” the Commander replied dismissively.

  The wall broke apart, and a small droid, barely tall enough to see over the table sped into the room. It carried two goblets and an oblique pitcher of gold liquid balanced on a tray on its head; no matter how quickly it moved, it never spilled a drop. It poured each goblet and served them to us with a bow, before retreating back through the wall.

  The commander chuckled as I peered curiously at the drink fizzling in my glass. “It’s made with the fruits from here,” He nodded to the wilds beyond the window, “but very similar to your human wine.”

  “Or you’ve decided to poison me and be done with it,” I offered, only half-joking.

  He smiled slyly over the rim of his glass. “Oh, believe me, if I am ever done with you... you will know it.”

  I shivered at his words, although it didn’t seem to be quite fear I was feeling. I quickly tried to switch the subject. “You mentioned this is a ship. What’s it called?”

  “The Galatea,” Commander Zenon replied, with a small touch of pride in his voice. He indicated the room with a sweeping gesture, “It belonged to my family for generations until it was lost in the last Great War. I managed to reobtain it, and have been steadily making improvements.”

  I took a sip of the Dionus wine. It tasted sweet, yet with a satisfying burn that reminded me of strong rum. A single bottle would keep everyone at Trent’s party drunk for a whole weekend, I thought ruefully. “What kind of improvements?” I asked, hoping to cover up how much a single sip of the commander’s wine had affected me.

  He shot me a small smirk, as if he already knew my motivation behind the question. “More room for my troops. Greater storage capacity, more advanced weaponry.”

  All practical, I mentally noted. But my cavern certainly wasn’t practical. Whomever added that clearly had a little romance to their soul.

  “How are you finding the ship? I hope you do not find yourself wanting for anything,” the Commander asked.

  “Just my freedom,” I smiled sweetly.

  He studied me for a moment over the rim of his goblet, as if he couldn’t quite puzzle something out. Finally he said, “Are you unhappy with your treatment at my hands?”

  “No, you’ve been the perfect gentleman.”

  “And yet-” He observed wryly, “I see you choose to wear your earthen clothes in direct opposition to my request.”

  “You’ve taken my home, my life, my freedom away from me-am I no longer even allowed to wear what I want?”

  He inclined his head politely, “You are of course free to choose your own garments.”

  “Then why, exactly, were you expecting that I’d comply with your request?”

  “Simply,” he said, his voice even and detached, “Because I thought you’d wish to please me.”

  I was spared a response by the entrance of two more droids, both different models than my Alva.

  Between them, they carried a massive platter piled high with food. Some I recognized, like steak, golden roasted potatoes and even a platter of sushi, and others were completely alien, like a purple slab of meat that seemed to be the size of my head.

  I barely paid attention to the food as the droids carefully arranged the dishes on the table. My mind raced with his words. Please him?

  “Eat,” the commander suddenly ordered, interrupting my thoughts, “The kettip is particularly good.”

  “I’m…. I’m not particularly hungry,
thank you,” I folded my arms across my chest.

  Commander Zenon raised an eyebrow sardonically, “No? You’ve had a healthy appetite up until now. Eat, for I won’t have anyone saying I mistreat my guests.”

  “And if I don’t?” I challenged.

  He took a long drink of his goblet. Standing, he walked the length of the table until he stood just beside my chair. Gripping the back in one hand, he leaned forward so that his face was only inches from my own.

  His close proximity froze me in my seat; I could nearly feel his breath on my cheek. He smelled amazing, a heady combination of the Dionus wine and leather.

  “If you don’t eat,” he said softly, “I shall have to think of other things to do with your smart mouth.”

  My heart caught in my throat. He couldn’t be implying…

  “That… would be the very definition of mistreating your guests,” I managed to speak breathlessly, “Forcing them to… obey you.”

  He grinned, a dark, canny, wicked grin, “Who said anything about force? I would never do anything that a guest wasn’t begging me to do.”

  My mouth was suddenly very dry. I quickly took a long drink from my glass, ignoring the overwhelming rush of inebriation. I should have been incandescent with rage.

  Yet all I could seem to focus on was the heat in his voice as he leaned over me. My discomfort seemed to greatly amuse the commander, for he leaned even closer, placing his mouth right beside my ear.

  “Now,” he purred, “eat.”

  I did as he instructed, piling my plate with whatever food was closest.

  Seemingly satisfied, and smirking heavily, the commander stood and gracefully returned to his own seat.

  I stared down at my own plate, thoughtlessly eating whatever I had grabbed. My heart was still racing. I could hardly bring myself to look at him; I knew my whole face must be red with embarrassment.

  “I understand you’re fond of reading,” the Commander commented, abruptly shifting back to cool politeness, as if the last few minutes had been a figment of my imagination.

  “Y-yes, I quite like reading.”

  “Stories of far-away worlds?” he asked with a small smile.

  “And physics, and classics, and history,” I added a little defensively. Curiosity getting the better of me, I asked hesitantly, “What sort of stories do you have here?”

  “Epic narratives of war and triumph and revenge. A true storyteller can lament on a single dynasty for nights without stopping. We lack your books, as trees are few and precious on Dionus, so our legends are usually more... oral in nature,” he flashed me another mischievous grin, “Though true storytellers are hard to find these days.”

  “Why?” I asked with interest.

  “Tell me of your life on Earth,” he commanded, completely ignoring my question.

  “Will you let me go if I seem too homesick?”

  “As I said, I have no intention of releasing you until my business on your planet is concluded.”

  “Yes, can’t get in the way of your murdering spree,” I remarked acidly, breaking free of his intoxicating spell.

  To my shock, he chuckled wryly. He stood and, goblet in hand, turned to face the window. “The mark of a true general of Dionus is that he learns from his failings. This,” he gestured to the wilderness beside us, “is the Crescent Oasis. To hold dominion over it is to own half the riches of this world. Its’ list of previous owners were the very best…. the most cunning, the most resourceful, the most disciplined.”

  The sun was nearly set on the horizon now. The moons seemed to be dimmer on this side of the ship, so that I could finally see pinpricks of stars beginning to glow in the darkening sky. The commander’s profile was almost unworldly in its beauty as he stared out into the growing night.

  “I defeated them all. I defeated them, because I was more cunning, more resourceful, more disciplined. And yet-” He glanced at me over his shoulder, his expression caught between exacerbation and intrigue, “I continue to underestimate just how easily you can provoke me.”

  I swallowed, “I-am told I have a special talent for being infuriating.”

  “And why?” he asked, so softly it almost seemed as if he was talking to himself, “Why exhaust yourself with defiance?”

  “You’ve-imprisoned me. You’ve taken everything from me…”

  “You have your life,” he interrupted, turning to face me, his gaze locked with mine. His eyes were magnetic, pulling me in, refusing to release me. “You know my power. Yet still you challenge me. Your every need is tended to, and yet still you are ungrateful.”

  I blanched at the bluntness of his words. “I… I haven’t meant to be ungrateful. I do appreciate everything you’ve done. How courteous you’ve been. It’s just… you took me from my home. You killed someone; you hate what I am. How can I be anything but defiant?”

  He gazed at me a few moments in silence, eyebrows knit together in concentration, as if he was trying to make up his mind about something. Finally, he extended his open hand. “Come here,” he summoned me gently.

  Without hesitation, I stood and joined him at the window, though I made sure to keep a few inches between us. The Commander, however, had other ideas.

  Slowly, as if I was a deer that would startle at any sudden movement, he placed his hands on my shoulders, and smoothly steered me until I was looking off to the left of the wilderness.

  Any urge I might have had to move away seemed to evaporate at his touch. I didn’t resist his wordless instructions; half because I didn’t dare, and half because I could not seem to stop noticing the comforting weight of his palms against my skin.

  “Do you see the stars?” he asked. I nodded.

  There was hardly any daylight left-candles had begun to spring to life within the room, bathing the marble fixtures and table laden with food in a golden, dancing glow. The stars outside seemed to burn in comparison.

  He lifted one hand, and pointed out over the horizon. “Look just there,” he instructed, his mouth so close to my ear I could feel every exhale. His body was dangerously close, close enough that I could feel his chest rising, subtly pressing against my back.

  I scanned the sky, trying to follow his finger. He seemed to be pointing to a particular star, high up in the sky, which glowed even brighter than the others.

  “Whenever you feel homesick,” he muttered, “look at that star. That, is the sun of your solar system. When you’re sad, find that star in the sky, and pour all of your sorrow into looking. Let nighttime guide your grief. And during the day-” His other hand began to drift from my shoulder, brushing his fingers slowly down my arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake “-during the day, be content. I will care for you. I vow to never harm you.”

  He pulled his hand back from the horizon, and cupping my chin, turned my face to his. His eyes smoldered in the faint candlelight.

  “Will you promise to at least try to be happy here?”

  I swallowed unsteadily. I felt as if I was standing on the precipice of a cliff, one heavy breeze from blowing over the edge. “Yes,” I finally managed breathlessly, “I will try.”

  His smile was dazzling. “Good. I’m glad.” His face was terrifying near. My head swam with the wine and the smell of him, as he drew me tightly against him, tipping up my head, bringing his mouth ever closer to mine.

  And yet suddenly, he pulled away, casually stepping back with an air of complete disengagement.

  “I’m afraid,” he said, returning to the table to take a long drink from his goblet, “I may need to put duty before pleasure.” Slightly raising his voice, he called, “Patch it through.”

  A figure instantly appeared in the very middle of the table; I jumped back in surprise, as the wood went right through him, before realizing the figure must be a projection of some kind.

  The figure was several years older than the Commander, though from his astonishingly well-preserved looks, he too must have been a native to Dionus as well
. He was dressed in a similar fashion as Commander Zenon had been during our first encounter, with knee-high boots and a black shawl that he swept back as he bowed.

  “All honor to the house of Rath’al,” he greeted us, with a sly grin.

  “Captain Thal,” Commander Zenon sighed, sounding almost bored, “To what do I owe the… pleasure?”

  “Well, you might have noticed that Yeft is making a bit of a nuisance of herself on our shared border.”

  “Has she. I hadn’t noticed.”

  “No,” Thal glanced at me from the corner of his eye, “I’ve heard you’ve been… busy as of late.”

  “So have you come to propose an alliance, or admire the oasis you lost to me from a distance?” Commander Zenon asked impatiently.

  The Captain’s mouth twisted unpleasantly, but his tone was of the utmost courtesy, “We have the same goal, Commander, you and I; I assumed that the only reason you hadn’t moved against her was because you perhaps were not informed of her movements.”

  Her? I instinctively glanced at the painting across the room.

  “Or perhaps her movements just don’t frighten me as easily as do others,” the commander responded.

  This seemed to especially sting, as the captain now openly scowled. “Perhaps they should, given that I am not the only one who has heard rumors about your… guest.”

  Abruptly Commander Zenon turned to me. Keeping his eyes from mine, he bowed and said, “Thank you for joining me for dinner. I’m afraid that Captain Thal and I have urgent business to discuss. Alva will accompany you back to your room.”

  Almost instantly, my robot servant appeared, hands folded and patiently waiting. I looked uncertainly between the commander and his strange fellow Dionusian, but Zenon was clearly done with me; he turned firmly away.

  Reluctantly, I followed Alva out the doorway and into the gleaming silver hallways. After the almost meditative tranquility of the marble room, the bright lights seemed especially harsh. Sound also apparently carried very well, for I clearly heard Captain Thal remark, “An Earthling, eh, Zenon? Good to know you’re flesh and fire just like the rest of us. I knew your hatred of humans was all bluster.”