Starport: Zeta Prime (Alt)

by S. A. Jackson

  Jillian adjusted herself, shuffling back onto the fur, weariness nearly taking her completely. The moons of the planet hovered in the distance of the black sky. She could see three of the five, ethereal and beautiful. They made her feel sad. Sad for the life she had once had, now gone, possibly for good if Mikey couldn’t find a way to clear her name. It was ludicrous that she had been framed as a supremacist rebel, of all things. The supremacists were an elitist group–believing that the poor should be kept poor, and not entitled to the benefits of space travel to new worlds–thinking pure new societies and colonies should be kept away from the inferiority of the less fortunate.

  As if Jillian could ever think such ridiculous beliefs. She herself had come from extremely humble backgrounds and she had had to work hard her entire life to get the respectable status she used to have. Suffering from prejudice throughout her childhood, she would never subject any others to such treatment. All humans were equal in her eyes.

  She sat up–a stab of horror ridding her of the sleepiness she had been overcome with moments ago. She had no prejudice when it came to humans–and she prided herself on this, but she had been judging these aliens from the moment she arrived on the planet. Immediately, she felt ashamed and guilty, admonishing herself for making assumptions based on rumor and hearsay from others. She’d just accepted being told that they were savages, though the experience she’d had so far had demonstrated the opposite of that.

  Not wishing to be naïve either, she knew she couldn’t drop her guard yet–she simply didn’t know enough, but she pondered hard as to whether she’d been too harsh on these unknown beings.

  Chapter Four

  A shadow on the floor made her start. She looked up to see her captor standing before her, holding two bowls of food. He placed one in front of her and then slunk to the corner where he started devouring his with his fingers, looking up after every mouthful–watching her. Out of intrigue rather than hunger, she bowed her head to survey the contents of the handmade pottery bowl. It appeared to be some sort of brown mush. From the fragrance, it didn’t smell too bad, a little sweet, even. She was in knots internally and way too tense to eat, but didn’t want to appear rude and knew she would become weak without sustenance.

  Tentatively, she lifted the bowl onto her lap and followed the alien’s actions by scooping a little of the mixture onto her fingers and nibbling a small piece. It tasted similar to baby carrots that had been mashed, with an unknown herby aftertaste. It wasn’t disgusting by any means, but she worried as to whether it would be safe for her to eat, thinking that if they looked quite different externally, they might be different internally.

  Faron eyed her as he ate, knowing that she must be ravenous. He was interested in her reaction to the dish, assessing how she took to it. Her tiny bites seemed delicate to him and he struggled to take his focus from her–this beautiful creature from another world.

  After a few mouthfuls, Jillian felt she had done enough to maintain some strength, unsure if she would be required to fight or run at some point. She placed the unfinished meal down and stifled a yawn, avoiding the gaze of the man whom she had started to feel very conscious of, like it contained a sort of…heat.

  “Eat,” he said in his native tongue after noticing how little she had consumed. She maintained her ignorance to the language by simply giving him a polite smile and a shrug.

  Faron thought that she couldn’t keep this pretence up much longer. He needed her honesty to release her–to be sure that she wasn’t going to be a risk to his village by attracting the more destructive of her race here. Deep down, he believed that she wouldn’t do such a thing, but he had a duty and had to be sure. There was a chance she hadn’t been taught their tongue, of course, but his instinct was strong and rarely incorrect.

  He reached across and shook her bowl in front of her, encouraging. This was the closest they’d been to each other, face-to-face and both locked eyes—neither able to look away as they absorbed each other up close.

  Jillian was transfixed by him in that moment, taking in the rippling flashes of dark green and warm amber of his huge irises–the caramel of his skin.

  He too, remained still as he searched her face, fascinated by the pink petal color of her cheeks, which for some reason was darkening by the second. Faron wanted to touch her curious, shade-changing flesh but held back, thinking correctly that the move would startle her.

  Placing the bowl back on the floor, he sat back. Jillian exhaled from the intensity of the past minute. She felt like she had just experienced something truly unique. Being careful not to get carried away, she reminded herself that she had been taken prisoner of these cat-people, and did not yet know what it was that they intended to do with her. To relax and trust this early on could prove a fatal mistake she wasn’t prepared to make. Just because she had felt a connection did not mean that he had felt the same thing–they were from different planets. She placed her guard back up.

  He got up and moved a pile of the fur, positioning it just in front of the doorway. To her disbelief, he curled on top of it and closed his eyes, clearly with the intention of sleeping and preventing her from dashing through the door, should she break from the chains.

  This made Jillian more acutely aware of her own fatigue, which had dissipated for a time in his presence. She yawned again, openly this time and bit her lip as she pondered her safety.

  With his large eyes now closed, she indulged in examining his body. Despite how she felt about her capture, she could not deny the marvel she felt at the rippling of his muscles underneath that skin. Skin that looked as smooth as any she had ever seen, but somehow, soft too–as if it were covered in a fine chestnut down. His frame was not bulky, rather athletic and slender, but underneath was iron strength. He had, after all, carried her weight through miles and miles of forest without appearing to tire once.

  He was almost quite … attractive. She tried to shake the thought from her head the instant it appeared, but now it was out she realized she had thought that as soon as she had seen him. He was just so powerful and self-assured–it gave him some kind of magnetism.

  As she looked on, her stomach gave a slight twist. It was less of a physical feeling however and more…emotional. She had unconsciously drifted into daydreaming, wondering if he too, found her pleasant to observe, wondering if the two races had similarities. She worried that maybe her smooth skin and small eyes repulsed him–after viewing her nose-to-nose, he had moved away to shut his eyes. Had he been disgusted by her difference?

  Was it wrong of her to be thinking like this? She was annoyed with herself for being so easily sidetracked, and started to organize her little knowledge to try and form some theories, and perhaps a plan, whilst she still had the time. She concentrated on what she had learnt about the aliens, hoping to remember something that may give her a bit of insight to her current plight.

  This race obviously had a modicum of civilization, she thought, owing to the fact they at least ate food from bowls and provided warmth and shelter to their prisoners. She felt ignorant at the little she knew about the natives on the planet she now had to call home–seeing as going back to Earth was no longer an option after the destruction of the gateway. The language lessons were intensive–they needed to be on account of its complexity, but actual cultural knowledge was limited. It seemed that the humans colonizing new worlds had very little interest in the inhabitants, as long as they weren’t given too much trouble.

  Most of the real life accounts of meeting with the aliens had come about mainly from the few battles that had ensued between the two groups in the early days of the colonization. There hadn’t been too much resistance however, and the fights were short-lived and resolved quickly. Most of the colonists had merely spoken about their primitive lifestyles and lack of technology–deeming them to be rather stupid and inferior because of this. Ashamed of it now, Jillian had never questioned this.

  She had, of course, encountered the cat-people before. As head of security, an agent
had radioed her once with the report of two of them hovering by the perimeter of her site.

  “We need you to move away from this area, please.” She had called to them, testing out her language skills from the other side of the fence. They had turned to each other, appearing stunned that she could speak to them. Saying nothing, they had crept forward stealthily and slowly. She noted that they were both males–bare from the waist up their stomach muscles protruded from their torso.

  “Move away from this area, please.” She had insisted again, unsure if they had understood the first time, but placing a hand over her stun gun just in case.

  “We want to know what you are building.” One of them asked.

  “It’s a…” Jillian faltered, knowing they would not have a word for ‘gateway’ in their language–since no such thing existed to them.

  “It’s a tunnel. For travel.” She had explained, figuring their question had been harmless and that they were bound to be curious. She had also drawn the judgmental conclusion that they wouldn’t truly get what she meant.

  The two aliens had simply slunk back to the tree line and vanished, having apparently gotten what they had come for. Whether they’d understood or not, she never found out as they never returned.

  Other than that, she had had no other experience. Well, she was finding out first-hand now, now it was too late to ask questions about how they handled their prisoners, about what fate lay before her. Nothing she had gleaned from her memories was going to help her in this circumstance.

  Soft breathing came from the sleeping feline-like creature a short distance from her and for a brief second, Jillian considered plotting an escape–just in case her future was not bright, but sighed at the notion. She simply did not have the energy left to even attempt it, she doubted if she even had enough energy to stand, and the fur was feeling more comforting by the second. Plus, there was a more pressing issue at hand. Running her tongue along dry lips, she became hyper aware of a raging and growing thirst. It baffled her as to why they’d brought her something to eat but nothing to drink. Swallowing a few times to try and create some moisture–another physical problem struck her.

  She utterly and desperately needed to pee. The irony of her body’s two most urgent needs was not lost on her at that moment and she bit her lip at the lack of options she had to sate either one. Shuffling on her fur mattress, she deduced that the need to drink was greater, and lifted the bowl of mush to see if it contained any liquid. The contents had congealed so that a thin film coated the top, and her stomach turned. If it had contained juice, it had long since evaporated.

  She huddled down and lay on her side, knees pulled in towards her chest. Wanting to show strength, not weakness, she would rather suffer than wake the sleeping creature and explain her needs. Her bladder throbbed and her mouth felt dry to the point of stickiness. It seemed like she would never sleep, what with so much need. But her resting place was warm, and her day had been long and tough. Against her mightiest will, her eyelids began to grow too heavy to keep open and she soon fell into the ignorant blackness of sleep.

  Chapter Five

  With a jump, she woke. Memories of the events that had occurred the previous day hitting her consciousness like a truck. She sat up immediately, alert and aware straight away. Her heart sank as she took in the surroundings. The grey stone making up the walls of her dwelling were uneven and misshaped, held together precariously by unique red mud fashioned into a sort of cement. A warming beam of sunlight shone through the open door. She shook her hand and a loud rattle reminded her of the fact that she was still chained here.

  She fought back tears of misery. Tears that threatened to spill for her ruined life. For her current hopeless situation. For the loss of the gateway–the only possible way she would have ever seen Earth again.

  In a split second before reality had smacked her awake, she had convinced herself that she was lying in her own bed, that everything was as it always had been. But she was still a prisoner. In both this village and if she ever managed to return to the colony, too. It was a bleak thought.

  Jillian finally noticed the absence of the alien who had put her in those chains, who last night had slept just feet away from her. His fur bed had been discarded to one side of the hut–all signs of him having ever been there gone.

  Also, her bowl of cold food had been removed, and in its place a terracotta clay jug. Jillian bit her lip, the stab in her full bladder becoming ever more painful as she uncomfortably held her urine. Scraping the jug across the dirt, she soon felt that it was full of some sort of liquid. Picking up the heavy object awkwardly, she sniffed its contents. It smelt faintly of clay but other than that was odorless, and from shaking it slightly she deduced that it must be water. This wasn’t the good news it should have been. Of course, she was more thirsty than she had ever been, but the need to pee overrode the thirst for the time being–the fullness inside causing her physical discomfort.

  Now it was daylight, she shunted across the floor on the backside so that she could have a proper look at the area she had been taken to so unwillingly, grateful that the length of the chain allowed her this movement. Rocking with the need to go, she attempted to distract herself by assessing her surroundings. None of the other huts looked the same shape or size as hers–she saw just over a dozen in total, most circular in shape and much larger than the small one she sat inside, constructed with more care than it looked as though hers had been. All were larger than the one she was dwelling in and a respectable distance away–the others were positioned in a semi-circle, with a big, rectangular structure at the top. If she had been in any doubt about it before—given the distance and the comparable shabbiness of the dwelling she was in–she was definitely in some sort of prison.

  The whole clearing was empty and quiet–almost eerily so.

  The large rectangular hut Jillian had just been observing, unknown to her, contained the entire village. Faron had called his tribe to a meeting to inform them of his intentions for the human. He could sense that they were anxious and he was eager to allay their fears.

  Gracefully sitting in rows on either side of the tables carved out of scarlet trees, inside walls decorated with terracotta pictures, the yellow eyes of the cat-people looked to their leader hopefully. Their young played and tumbled with each other underneath these tables and in the aisles, uninterested in the concerns of their elders.

  “I have rescued one of the invaders,” he said at last, causing some gasps to ripple across the room.

  “She is a female and was about to be attacked by her own kind–they bound her by the wrists and kidnapped her. When she escaped, they chased her with their death weapons. I have been watching this being for a long time now, and could not see any reason for their actions towards her.”

  Around the hall, no one spoke. Even the children had stopped their play.

  “As a people, you know we don’t condone unprovoked violence. We should not be prepared to condone it on other species either. I have rescued the female, and plan to keep her here with us. Safe from her persecutors.”

  “They might think you have taken her hostage, Faron. We should send her back. Let them deal with her,” a lithe young woman said, a hint of bitterness in her tone.

  “I will not send her back. She is in danger from her own kind. We are not cruel, Misha.” Faron answered her directly. Misha narrowed her enormous eyes once he had turned his attention elsewhere, unhappy with the reply, but not daring to question Faron’s authority.

  “Myself and the men will be on lookout for the next few days. I am sure that they won’t look for her, but my priority will be to keep you safe. You do not need to fear. I will keep her in chains until she becomes more familiar with her new surroundings. The risk of her fleeing is high at present, and she doesn’t know of the creatures that lurk in our wilderness.”

  Besides Misha, all the other villagers seemed satisfied with Faron’s assurances. They trusted his leadership and his sharp instincts enough to know t
hat if he said he believed something–it was so. Misha, on the other hand, felt resentful towards the new addition to their clan. She saw a light in Faron’s eyes when he spoke of her that she severely disapproved of.

  Being clever, she realized that disapproval was no way to win him over.

  “Do you need us to assist you with her care, while you’re out patrolling?” She offered, sugary sweet.

  Faron was not a fool, and could spot Misha’s falseness immediately.

  “Yes, if you could help with the preparation of and then take her the morning meal, I would be appreciative, Misha.” He told her. His plan was to put the human up against the most resistant of his tribe straight away. Misha may be difficult with her, and his decision was to use it as a test. If she could stand up to it without flowing her anger onto others that tended to her, he would know she was ready for release–seeing them as individuals would be a sign of understanding from her. He also considered the possibility that pushing her buttons may reveal her knowledge of the language.

  Misha dashed off to do his bidding, glad to be on good terms with him again. Many others made offers to help her, all eager to please their leader, but she batted them away, wanting to have his praise to herself.

  Jillian winced and jiggled at yet another pang in her bladder. It was vaguely ridiculous. Here she was scared out of her wits at first, having been kidnapped by an alien after being on the run from her own kind, to having barely any fear–her biggest problem being the most basic of human needs. She also felt desperately isolated. There was no movement over the clearing, and the only sounds she could here was the soft whipping of the tendrils hanging from the trees. She stared at their bizarre color–all of them the same, just variations of red from dark pink to deep maroon.

  She thought of the woodlands on Earth. Rare and sparse now of course, but those that remained had been a delightful palette of autumnal oranges, greens and browns. She felt an ache of sorrow realizing that this picture would only ever exist in her head from now on.