Stolen

EVE

I wake up slowly, but I’m not fooling myself. I know exactly where I am. The only difference is that I’m warmer than I’ve been in a while.

My face is pressed against Dax’s leg, the unique fabric of his pants soft against my skin. My right arm is sprawled across his legs, as if I’m trying to steal his warmth.

I glance up to see his head resting against the wall, his eyes closed. His left arm stretches across me, his massive six-fingered hand resting on my forearm, and his right arm is on my upper back.

It feels more than just nice being like this, but it’s hard to let myself get lost in the feeling when my life is in such a mess. I move to sit up, waking him in the process.

He looks down at me and smiles reassuringly. We’re alone, so I feel safe enough to speak. “Thanks, Dax, for staying with me.”

“I’m locked in here, remember?”

I snort at this. “I don’t think you’re as trapped as you claim,” I say, giving him a pointed look, “which makes this even more meaningful.”

He glances around before leaning in, his lips whispering in my ear. “I’ve reached out to three allies about you.

My boss, his wife, who also happens to be the medical director, and Roskier, my second in command and leader of the ground operations unit on my ship.

I haven’t heard back from Roskier yet, but he might have shut down all incoming communications while he’s on leave.”

I swallow hard, staring at him. “What does that mean? For me? For you?”

He shrugs, as if getting me out of here is no big deal.

“It means that I have some very powerful beings working hard to ensure you get out safely and that anyone involved in this will be tortured for information and killed.”

“Wow, Dax, that sentence went from me feeling hopeful about getting out of here, to knowing a lot of people are going to die. It doesn’t seem very humane to kill so many if they really didn’t know any better.”

Dax smiles, his eyes sparkling, but there’s a hint of ruthlessness in him. “I’m not very human, Eve. None of the species on this ship are human, and the ones responsible for you being here—and I highly doubt they’re as innocent as the ones ‘just following orders’—are not human. So, Eve, it’s not fair to hold us to human standards.”

“I guess I just Christopher Columbus’d you, huh? I didn’t mean to. I don’t know how things work here,” I say quietly, feeling like a stranger in a truly alien world.

Dax seems to lose focus, as if he’s searching for information. “The words and information I absorbed from your device don’t explain the term, ‘Christopher Columbus’d’.”

I laugh. “It just means that someone is new to an area, like me in your world. I came into your ‘world,’ thinking my way was the best way. The only way, and assuming you should learn my way.” I feel so out of place.

He reaches out and gently takes my hand in both of his, easing some of my embarrassment. “Every time a new species is brought in, they do something similar. Always.

They’re new and think they’ll change the universe with their ways and customs. Because they’re the best, and theirs is the only way to do something. We expect it each time, and we tell them that’s not how it works.

Their planet is theirs to control, and anyone who visits a planet must follow their laws, no matter how ridiculous they may seem.” He looks serious now.

“But in space, there are basic laws everyone agrees to or they receive no protection. Some choose not to abide by them, and sometimes their planets and entire species suffer without the majority's help.”

I give a weak smile as I sit next to him so we can talk without raising our voices. I don’t want anyone overhearing us and I really want to be next to him again. I want to learn more about life here.

“So, I take it, none of the species are gonna start singing ‘Kum Ba Yah’ with the humans?”

“Kum Ba Yah?”

“Hm, like holding hands and living in peace.” At this, Dax laughs, and when I say laugh, I mean he doesn’t just chuckle.

He has to turn towards the wall to hide the fact that his pale blue skin is turning purple. I scowl and shove him. He’s huge and, of course, doesn’t budge.

“That’s what humans think? Is that how you live?”

“No, I mean, of course, I thought some aliens would be hostile, but I’d always hoped for the other kind. The kind that left their world to become great explorers and share their knowledge.”

Dax stops laughing now, and looking away, asks, “Why would a peace-loving civilization with everything to lose leave a planet with so much to offer?”

“I already told you, maybe a sense of adventure?” He nods at this, deep in thought.

“Leaving a planet is hard. It takes resources you don’t have, and lives are sacrificed. I can think of a few species that left their planet for more noble reasons. But most, including mine, left because we had no choice.

Our home was overcrowded; some have been diseased, or just decaying past livability. Like so many other species out there.

“When a planet can no longer support its population or is about to be destroyed by something, that’s when you leave. Or you die.” He shrugs as if it’s a simple fact. “I’ve seen worlds die because they didn’t realize they needed to leave and that the changes needed to keep their world hospitable would take too long.

“There is no peace, not the kind of love you want, only desperation, and hope for our future generation to experience all the niceties that come with a new life. Those species become more ruthless.

We are the ones that did everything to survive. And even though once a species becomes as advanced as the ones you’ve seen, a piece of their ancestors seems to stay with them.”

His fists are clenched tight, and he turns to me with a serious expression.

“But my world is already struggling with overpopulation, and we haven’t even started to address it,” I say.

He looks away. “Then maybe your world isn’t desperate enough yet. There are worse things than a world that’s still so appealing that its inhabitants don’t want to leave.

I’m not saying your species won’t eventually die out if they don’t find a solution, but it seems you’re not at that point yet.”

I stand up, because sitting in a cell is becoming my new normal, and I need to process this. Is life out here a survival of the fittest situation? I don’t think so.

There are laws, probably fewer laws, but the consequences for breaking them seem harsher.

I run my hands through my hair, stopping when I realize it’s too tangled, and consider his words about visiting other planets and abiding by their laws.

I guess I would have a choice and wouldn’t have to visit any planets that were too terrible. Unless I was sold to one.

What happened to the dream of exploring new life and new civilizations, of boldly going where no one has gone before? Reality happened. Planet-destroying, dream-crushing reality.

“Why hasn’t your company, or any of the species, done anything to help other worlds?”

“Who says we haven’t?”

“If worlds are still dying because they can’t get their act together, that’s not much help,” I retort.

“There’s a difference between helping and forcing the evolution of an entire species.”

His face twists with anger at this. “My species wouldn’t exist if a decision hadn’t been made a long time ago to intercept an asteroid.

That’s help. Sometimes when a species is close, we do make contact. But honestly, yours probably isn’t close enough yet.”

He looks away, avoiding my gaze. “My planet’s government is the reason my agency adopted a more hands-off approach.

After what my own planet did…it was decided that too much interference was wrong, even if the intentions were good.”

“Dax,” I say softly, making him look at me, “as much as I love learning about different species and the paths that led them to the stars, I can see how upset you are. You don’t have to tell me,” I say gently.

“It’s not a secret,” he says flatly. “Our government nearly wiped out its own people. All with the best intentions.”

I frown. “That makes no sense.”

“We left the origin because of overcrowding. Our planet, Sool-Urwa, didn’t have that problem.

We continued to advance our technology and became known for thriving in hostile environments. But our government feared the same would happen.

And that our population would grow too quickly,” he scoffs and looks at me. “What parent wouldn’t do everything they could for their child?

The government promised they could ensure the healthiest children and, with technology implanted in our bodies, incredibly long lifespans. So, within three generations, all children were a product of that.

But by then they realized they had been lied to as well. The children were healthy, and they lived long lives. But they also made it very difficult to reproduce.

Our females were rarely fertile. The males, they ensured their seed was strong, healthy, but again, very few.

That was a long time ago, and then the wars happened. It started as a civil war and escalated to an interplanetary war. Eighty percent of our planet’s population was wiped out, and our ability to reproduce was already decimated.

We were thrown back to the days before space travel. And we stayed that way for a long time. After that, any trust in our government was gone.

“My parents were together for over two hundred Earth years before I was born, and I am an only child. There are only only children. No more siblings.

As a society, we developed a strong sense of protection for our mates, and if they were pregnant, or there was a child, no one went near them if they wanted to live.

It was theorized that the male’s protective instinct might have been affected by the genetic engineering, too.”

Wow. “We have what’s called designer babies, where the parents can choose some physical traits, and healthiness, but nothing like what you’re describing. Dax, that’s awful.”

I crouch down and squeeze his shoulder. “I hope your species took some of its ruthlessness out on those who made that decision.” I give him a wicked smile.

“Yes. We did.” He returns the menacing smile. “Your species shouldn’t trust anyone with your future.

My kind did, and the most precious thing we could ever have is now so rare. Only twenty-five percent of all mated pairs even have one child in their lifetime.”

I can’t believe this happened, and then to be almost wiped out? I’m about to ask him another question when someone walks too close, and we both pull away, forgetting that we shouldn’t have been talking.

Dax realizes it too when he gives me a pointed look and says quietly, before stopping all conversation until the night cycle, “Go in the corner and learn Universal. I’ll shield your body from anyone looking in.”