Authors: Emma Taylor
“Gina, I-I thought-” He fumbled as he tried to find the words to say.
She ignored the aches of her body, glad to feel his arms around her. As his body pressed against hers, she noticed that there was something missing from herself. She breathed deeply and tried to speak. “Rafe…the baby.”
He released her and just then the door of the room opened and Leila and a nurse walked in together. A smile lit up Leila’s face. “Oh, you’re awake.”
In her arms she carried a small bundle of cloth. Beaming, she brought the bundle over to the couple and passed it off to Gina.
Rafe kissed the top of her head. “Gina, meet our son.”
The breath caught in her throat as she looked at the tiny face of her son, alive and well in her arms. She smiled as the tears streamed down her cheeks. Here they both were, strong and healthy.
“I know we hadn’t quite decided on a name yet,” Rafe said. “We thought we’d wait for you to wake up.”
Gina kissed her son’s forehead. “Aiden.”
THE END
Rosy Mooney woke upon cold metal. Her cheeks pressed against the coldness. She opened and closed her eyes, seeing spots of light all over her vision. She opened and closed her eyes again, and her vision began to clear. Then she sat up and looked around the room.
Room
was an overstatement, as far as she could tell. There were four metal walls, a low metal ceiling, and a cold, hard metal floor. There was no bed, no window, no desk, no toilet; nothing. She rubbed her head and tried to remember how she got here, tried to remember if she knew where
here
was, tried to remember if any of this made any kind of sense.
She remembered being in her garden, looking up—and then she was here. What had happened in between? She had no clue, just a strong sense of foreboding. She would be late for work tomorrow; that much she knew. She had graduated college a couple of years ago and worked for a publishing company, doing grunt-level editing. She had been striving for a better position, but now?
She slumped against a wall and stared into the lowlight; a green orb that shone from the ceiling.
It was five or so minutes – she guessed; time was hard to keep track of here – when there came a bang-bang-
bang
from outside the cell. She jumped to her feet and tried to ascertain from which direction the sound was coming. But direction as well as time was a problem here. The banging seemed to come from all around, as though a giant was smashing his fist against the entire cell. She closed her eyes, to see if that would help, but all that did was give her the notion that she was on a rollercoaster, and soon she would drop…
“Argflufaxtee’ka’ta,” a high-pitched, scratchy voice said. “Teekrokla’fen… Damn it… Fruta’kala… Is it working? Hello? Human one? Are you there? Say something if you understand my words.”
Rosy put her hands to her head, trying to break herself from this mad dream, praying to God that she would wake up in her bed at her shared house, and go downstairs and tell her housemates about the crazy dream she’d had.
Guys, I was in some kind of cell. It was so scary. But at least I can use it in the novel I will
eventually
start.
But when she took her hands from her head she was still in the cell, and that voice was still calling to her. It was less high-pitched now it wasn’t talking gibberish.
“
Helllllooooooooooooooooo
,” the voice said. “Rosy Mooney, yes?”
Rosy started, and then cleared her throat. “He-hello?”
“Hello,” the voice said, with some relief, Rosy thought. “Okay, the Translator is working perfectly, then. I understood that. Okay… I imagine this is very disorienting for you. You have no need to fear. You will not be harmed. You have been taken from your planet to serve as a house slave to the Ka’la’tek family in Province Two. They requested a human woman around your age and with your physical and mental attributes. Blue eyes, brown hair, tanned skin, around five foot five, and capable – by human standards – in terms of cognitive intelligence.”
Rosy laughed: couldn’t help but laugh. Whoever had played this prank on her was really laying it on thick. She tried to think of anyone she knew who would be capable of playing a prank like this. There was Jack, from the house. He was big into drugs and could have easily got his hands on some mushrooms, and then it would have been simple for him to slip some into her dinner (they had had mushroom risotto). Yes, she decided, Jack was playing a cruel trick on her.
“Ha-ha,” she said. “Okay, you’ve got me. I was scared. Can you let me ride this out now, please? I’m seeing and hearing some really weird stuff. Just stop with the weird voices and stop saying things that make no sense. Just let me ride this out and I’ll be okay.”
“I am not sure you understand, Rosy,” the voice went on.
“Oh,” Rosy said, and let out a giggle. “I think I understand perfectly. You hilarious guys thought it would be
ab
so
lutely
hilarious to give your housemate drugs and then watch her trip. I understand just fine.” She began to feel anger. She had work tomorrow. How could they do this to her? “I understand just
fine
,” she said, her voice becoming bitter. “I understand better than you
think
, you sick bastards. Now, just leave me alone.”
“You are to serve as a house slave to the Ka’la’tek family, Rosy. You are being transported there as we speak. Soon you will arrive at the household. Now, if you’ll just let me go over the some basic—”
Rosy put her hands over her ears and called out: “
Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala… NOT LISTENING… NOT LISTENING… LALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA!”
She hadn’t done this since she was a girl, but listening to her voice override Jack’s tripped-out voice, she realized that it was still an effective tactic. She kept going, on and on, ignoring as the voice tried to punctuate her tirade.
Then smoke drifted up her nose. She tried to keep going, but she had to take her hands away. Green smoke drifted from the green orb on the ceiling. Rosy tried to stay strong – tried to keep some fight in her – but the smoke seemed to wrap her in a blanket. And she
was
tired. She curled up on the floor, and who knew cold metal could be so comfortable?
“Good,” the voice said, and Rosy was forced to listen. “When you arrive at the Ka’la’tek family residence, you will—”
Rosy was forced to listen to the nonsense: she must sweep the floors; she must watch the children; she must make the food; she must care for the pets; she must attend the household in every way the family saw fit.
“Bullshit,” she mumbled, laughing to herself. “What utter bullshit you are talking, Jack.”
*****
It was a foolish notion, of course. Alien abductions only happened in movies, not in real life. And why would they take her? Just swoop down and take a twenty-three-year-old editor? What would the point of that be? They might as well just take any random person off the street. She had been looking up at the stars—and now she was here.
Alien abduction only happens in movies, dear. Go back to your drugs theory. That was much less scary.
She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink the whole time she was here. Neither had she had to go to the toilet. Every so often the green orb emitted smoke which she was forced to breathe in, and she found that her hunger was sated, her thirst quenched, and her body miraculously uninterested in the bathroom. The smoke was giving her some chemicals, she decided, that regulated all that. The problem was, she had never heard of food and water being converted into gas form and then
fed
to people. Of course, water could become steam. But humans couldn’t
drink
steam, could they?
She didn’t need to sleep, either, which was annoying because there was nothing to do but think for the entire journey. But then—
A cell wall slid away.
***
Rosy was hurried into a room of gleaming white and blinding yellow lights. She did not know what moved her. She just seemed to glide from the cell into a world of whiteness and bright lights. She closed her eyes against the lights and then screamed as her body was sprayed from all directions. “We have to immunize you,” the voice said, from somewhere above. “And we have to purge you of all diseases that may be dangerous to the Ka. This may hurt.”
Her skin was blasted from all sides with sick-smelling liquid, jet-engine powerful streams that threatened to send her toppling down into—whatever was underneath the light. “Humans,” the voice said, “you have so many sickly things on you, so many parasites and bugs, creepy crawling. It’s a wonder more of you don’t just drop dead. Well, I suppose enough of you die.”
She barely heard this as her skin was scorched and then a mechanical arm pinched her wrist and held it before her. Another mechanical arm emerged, holding a needle, and pumped a syringe-full of chemicals into her bloodstream. Immediately, a sweat broke out on her forehead, beads sliding into her eyes. She closed her eyes against the stinging and tried to think of something happy, something that would distract her. But nothing could distract her from that annoyingly upbeat voice.
“This is all for you own good,” it said, with the same tone her mother had used when she’d been vaccinated as a child.
This is all for your own good, dear, so just lie down and let the big scary man stick a huge needle in you
. But now it was even worse, because it was not her mother speaking but—but—
just say it
—but an
alien
. “There is no use in struggling. All of this is automatic. The machinery doesn’t care if you struggle, and you certainly won’t outmuscle it.”
A dim part of Rosy’s mind saw the logic in what the voice said, and so for the rest of the time she just stood there as she was stabbed and sprayed with who-knew-what. When it was done, the same force took her back to the cell and laid her on the ground: naked and dry, feeling bleach-clean.
She had nothing to do but lie there. The voice had left her. She was alone.
She was almost glad when the cell door slid away again.
*****
The first thing she saw was blinding orange-red sunlight. Then two almost man-shaped creatures strutted into the cell and began strapping things on her legs, on her arms, tapping her throat and inserting mouthpiece things into her mouth. They slid it all under her skin, so she couldn’t see any of it, and when they were done she could barely feel it, either. The sunlight was too bright for her to make out anything clearly, and then the man-shaped things were gone and she was left alone.
She waited for half an hour, just staring into the orange-red light, before rising to her feet and walking from the cell. As soon as she was out, the cell shot up from behind her. She turned and looked up. The cell – just a metal box – was being sucked to a huge ship in the sky. The ship covered most of the skyline, and then it rumbled – the ground rumbled – and it was gone, shooting into the sky, leaving her.
She looked around. She stood in an American-West-looking place: the sort of place Steinbeck wrote about. Tall corn-like plants – but red tipped with green – swayed in a slight breeze. The sunlight was scorching on her skin, but she felt one of the implants inside of her buzz under her skin, and she instinctively knew that it was combating the sunlight. She was also aware that everything felt
lighter
here, like at any time she could float away, but somehow her feet were heavy enough to stay grounded.
In front of her stood what she assumed was a house. It was built with what looked like hard-packed clay. It was completely gray, and must have been at least a half-mile around. The walls rose to three times her height. She looked around: nothing but miles and miles of that corn-like crop. She walked around the compound, looking for any distinguishing features, but there was nothing but grayness.
Then she rounded a corner and saw a break in the clay wall: a 16-foot-wide opening leading to what looked like a passageway. She headed for the passageway, mostly because she needed to focus on something lest she go insane. She kept walking and walking until she was at the passageway.
“Argeshfl’ta,” a voice said.
She turned abruptly and there he stood. He was around eight and a half feet tall. His skin was dark red; crimson. He had pale white hair and flaring white eyebrows. His eyes were small and deep set in his face. His nose was bigger, and his mouth was about human-size, but red-lipped. His hands and legs, too, were human-like, except that he had no pinkie fingers that she could see: just three fingers and a thumb on each hand.
He touched something on his neck. “Hello,” he said. “Is it working?”
Rosy coughed. “Um, yes,” she said. “I think so.”
He smiled, showing rows of white, gleaming teeth. And somehow that comforted her.
He has teeth
, she thought stupidly. “I’m Elion Ka’la’tek,” he said. “And you are Rosy Mooney, yes, from Earth?”
Rosy nodded, thinking she should review her drugs theory. This was too crazy to be happening in real life. Outside the compound, a light breeze rustled the green-red plants. “I don’t know what’s happening,” she said.
“The crew has already fitted you with everything you need to be safe,” he said. His voice was lower than the voice on the ship, but not by much. Somehow, though, it was more comforting than that voice; it sounded like a voice she needn’t be
so
scared of. His eyes, she saw, were bright green, summer-leaf green. “Here’s how it is, Rosy. My father is one of the Highers. At least he likes to think so.” He made a face somewhere between disgust and amusement. “That means he has
gone back to the land
, and for that he needs a house slave. For our species, a human house slave is a sign of prosperity, so of course he has to have one. And the current trend at the moment is for young, intelligent women like you. So here you are.”