Stolen

“Freedom lies in being bold.”—Robert Frost

ARDAXUR

I’ve been sitting with my back to Eve for the better part of the day, my body tense and alert. I’m not usually this restless. I want to know more about her, about how she ended up here. But for now, we wait.

At first, she was just sounding out words. I found myself silently repeating them, impressed by her pronunciation. Now, she’s whispering simple sentences to herself. My hearing is sharp enough to catch her soft words. I glance back at her, noticing her eyebrows drawn together in concentration. The hair there seems strange to me, but it only makes her blue eyes, several shades darker than my skin, stand out more.

The speed at which she’s learning a new language is fascinating. I just integrate languages, and my bioware deciphers them. But this, actually learning them, and so quickly, is incredible.

I turn back to face the outside, a scowl forming on my face. We need to get out of here. Soon. With the information I’ve gathered about this ship, I know we can make our move tonight.

My implanted bioware signals an incoming message. It’s connected to the nerves in my eyes, so I can see the words as if they’re right in front of me. The message is from Virtorn. I’m sure Mola is involved too, after seeing the content I sent him.

I don’t like the “options” Virtorn is suggesting for getting her back to her planet. It’s not safe to mess with the brain of a species we know so little about. I don’t want her to get hurt.

I’m also annoyed with myself. I didn’t even think about the microorganisms. I hope I haven’t already exposed her to some preventable infection.

My kind can’t survive the organisms on many planets, and they can’t survive ours. So, we program our bioware to work with our immune cells. But who knows what her body can handle? Even if she or her species is strong, the simplest microorganism can cause serious damage if left unchecked.

Once we’re out of here, I’ll have to keep her isolated in my room.

I glance back at her again. Her long hair is now tied back. If I were in her shoes, alone and treated the way she’s been treated, I’d do anything for a few moments of happiness. The few smiles I’ve seen on her face, mostly in her images, tell me she’s not broken yet.

Another message comes in, this one from Roskier. I brace myself for his usual threats.

I’ve spilled blood of every color from countless species when they’ve threatened my crew or me. A little more won’t bother me.

Roskier is a man of few words. The fact that he’s written so much means he’s probably upset. He never talks about the things he’s seen. His silence speaks volumes.

“Dax,” Eve whispers. We’re alone, so I respond, correcting her.

“My name is Ardaxur, little Earthling. I know you can pronounce it,” I tell her. I know I shouldn’t be talking, but we’re alone, and I want to hear her soft voice.

“Don’t try to humanize me with a human name. Unless, of course, I can call you Evlore,” I say, narrowing my eyes and trying to keep my face neutral.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” she says, sounding amused. “Dax is just a shorter version of your name. You can’t just add random syllables to my name. And besides, do you know how many sci-fi books I’ve read where the alien has a human name?” She gives me a sly smile.

“I can assure you, the name Dax means very little in my language, or Universal. But in the Borque language, Daxa means death stench.” I turn to look at her, making sure she sees the look on my face. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

She scrunches up her nose, a gesture I’ve come to like. She laughs quietly.

“Fine, Ardaxur. I was just wondering what your species is called?”

I have to think about that for a moment. It’s a surprisingly contentious issue.

“It depends on who you ask. My planet is called Sool-Urwa, so many of us are fine with being called Sool-Urwans, like you’re an Earthling. But remember, there was an original planet?”

She nods. “It’s called Derlu, and many refer to all of us, on all three planets, as Derluans.” I can’t help but smile at her rapt attention as she absorbs this information.

“Derlu is the name of the original planet. The settlers named my planet Sool-Urwa, even though they hated it and resented the original Derluans who told them it was their new home.”

“What does Sool-Urwa mean, then? It sounds soft, and delicate.”

“In your language? The closest translation would be ‘Icing-Death.’”

Her eyes widen, and she breaks into a huge smile. “What?”

I have to hold back a laugh. “The original settlers named it out of spite. We kept the name as a reminder of what we’ve overcome.”

“So, it’s completely covered in ice? How do you grow food? Is it really that bad?”

“No, it’s not that bad,” I say, shaking my head with a smile. “It’s home, and I miss it sometimes. The middle parts of the planet, near the equator, are ice-free. That’s where all the food is grown. It’s all done by machines, and no one is allowed there to prevent contamination. It’s cold, but not that cold.”

She falls silent, her gaze drifting away from me. I can see her mind working, thoughts churning. We don’t speak for a while after that. But this silence isn’t the comfortable kind we’ve shared most of the day. It’s forced, and I can see a sadness in her eyes.

I don’t know much about her species, and I shouldn’t be able to recognize that look. But I do, and it doesn’t belong there.

“What’s bothering you, little Earthling?” I ask softly.

“I just realized that it’s possible to see things that humans only dream of.” She still won’t look at me. “Stars forming, dying, exotic worlds, new life.”

She looks at me then, and I wish she hadn’t. I hate the feelings that surge through me at seeing her like this. It’s foreign and uncomfortable.

But instead of wishing she would look away, to make it easier on me, I take her hand, holding it tightly. I want to give her strength and hopefully make it easier for her to continue.

“My future is uncertain, and I may never see anything other than this cell. That will be the extent of my space adventure,” she says, waving her hand around, tears streaming down her face.

“At least I had you for a little while. Thank you.” Her hand squeezes mine tightly. As she moves to sit closer to me, I glance around to make sure we’re alone.

This won’t do. “Please, Eve, don’t let this uncertainty cloud your mind. I need your trust. Will you give it to me?”

She looks into my eyes, her emotions raw. She doesn’t answer, just nods her head and looks away again. I take that as a yes.

“I promise, I will do everything I can to get you out. And when you’re free, I will make sure you experience a life that no other human has.” I place my hand under her chin, urging her to look at me.

“After so many years, and so many experiences, I take too much for granted. I hardly ever stop to marvel at a gas nebula. But seeing it again through your eyes, seeing your awe, will be better than seeing it for the first time alone.”

I feel her jaw clench under my hand. I’m not sure if she believes me.

But she must, because she gives a quick nod, then throws herself into my arms, burying her face in my neck.

She holds me tight, and after the initial shock wears off, I wrap my arms around her. I realize how much I like this feeling.

Holding her close, she feels so fragile in my arms. I revel in the sensation of her against me, as I rub her head with my chin, my hands feeling both on fire and at home on her back.

I feel the wetness from her tears seeping into my shirt. “Thank you for giving me hope, Ardaxur. Even if it doesn’t happen,” she says, her voice hardening in a way that makes me proud.

“Hope while waiting for a surprise death is better than despair waiting for a known death. I don’t want to die, but I also don’t want you, or anyone else, risking their lives for me. I won’t allow it.”

She keeps her face buried in my neck, and I don’t like where this conversation is heading.

“No. I choose the risks I take, and you are worth it,” I tell her, anger surging through me at her words.

“Then I choose the risks I take, too.” I want to tell her no, that that’s not acceptable, but I’m not naive. I know there will be risks, and sometimes plans don’t work out.

“Is this the right time to say, ‘I hope our plans don’t get sexed up’?” I ask, grateful that she still hasn’t pulled away.

But then she starts shaking, and I realize she’s laughing, trying to suppress it.

“Fucked up, not sexed up, Ardaxur.”

EVE

Thank God, it’s almost night.

I thought being alone for two weeks with no one to talk to was hard, but it’s even harder having someone to talk to and having to constantly stop myself from speaking.

Is this how stay-at-home moms feel when they finally get a night out, but they choose to see a movie? Desperate to talk to anyone, but knowing they shouldn’t.

After I extricate myself from Dax, we share a good laugh after the serious turn our conversation took. We agree to go back to being quiet. It’s necessary. I know that.

He won’t tell me his plan right now, and I have to trust him. It’s not that I don’t have a choice. I can choose to trust him or not.

It’s that I probably wouldn’t trust anyone else, but I do trust him. He’s earned my trust, without question, without hesitation.

The crew makes one final pass through the cells, bringing me my “food,” though Dax’s food doesn’t come. I was hoping some of his would soon be mine because I’m so damn hungry.

I roll my eyes, my mind wandering in its hunger.

My linguistics professors hated my use of slang and cursing, but there’s a time and a place for that shit.

And being in an alien prison, hopefully about to break out, is the perfect time to swear, use slang, and do everything else that’s considered sacrilege when it comes to language.

Dax told me before we went back to radio silence that he wasn’t sure when he’d be let out. If it were now, he’d come back in the middle of the night.

If it were morning, he’d have to spin a tale for the crew about someone sneaking in during the night to whisk me away. He’d be stuck here after ensuring my safety if they kept him longer.

But when they don’t bring him food, I realize they won’t keep him much longer.

With that thought, we exchange glances, and I hope my face mirrors the gratitude I feel for a few days of companionship and a few hours of hope.

I trust him, and I know I’ll see him again, even though my breath hitches as I spot one of the crew members—actually one of the decent ones—approaching us.

He has a hesitant look on his face, like he’s scared of me but has been ordered to release Dax.

With one last desperate glance at Dax, his violet eyes blazing with resolve, I look away and retreat. He starts rubbing the tips of his horns, the way a person would rub their temples.

I want to laugh—it’s so unexpected, and I think he’s nervous too. I’m scared, but after what happened earlier, I can’t afford to look back and dwell.

With everything that’s happening, I have to look forward when looking back doesn’t do me any good right now.

Seeing the “thing”—I’m not sure what to call it—he stands in front of Dax and lowers the clear wall. He speaks to Dax in Universal, and holy freaking cow—I can understand some of it!

Not all of it, but there are words that I understand: “free…behave…getting late…food.” I can piece together what’s being said, and as Dax steps over that threshold, looking back once, I see anguish.

I know his species might be different, but I can’t see how that look can be anything other than that. He then walks away, and I sit here, looking at the “food,” deciding that I’m hungry enough to eat some of it.

ARDAXUR

I’m finally back in my room, checking everything, making sure nothing was taken.

I had locked the door to everyone but myself before I left two days ago, and I can see that no one’s tried to get in.

That’s good. I remotely connect to the ship, wanting to know where every life-form is, and the layout of the vessel.

I’m going to need Torgan’s help for this, so first I contact Roskier, who should be with Virtorn. I don’t have to wait long for Roskier to accept it, and I make sure no one is outside before continuing.

“Rosk, it’s good to hear from you.”

I hear him snort, and laugh. “You expected anything different?”

“I tried contacting you, and I wasn’t sure if I’d get word to you soon enough.”

“I was occupied.”

I shake my head at this, amused. I know my friend. “Were you killing, or having sex?”

“Why does it have to be either or?” he asks innocently, and I know if he killed someone or something, they deserved it. He might be vicious, but he doesn’t kill an innocent.

“They freed me today, Rosk. I had to leave her behind,” I can hear the anguish in my own voice, and I hear him growl at this.

“It won’t be long, Ardaxur. I have Torgan here for whenever you are ready.”

“I’ll be ready shortly. What have you told him? Where is Virtorn?”

“Virtorn is telling him the bare minimum he can, and they will be here shortly. Between the three of us in your head, I think we can pull off the escape of one little primitive species.”

This bothers me. It’s my fault, though, as the pictures don’t show her to be much more than that.

However, I haven’t exactly been sitting down and telling them, “no, I was wrong, she’s smart, and actually made me laugh for the first time in too long.

And I can see so much hope and beauty in her face and eyes, that leaving her felt like a knife to my chest” is a conversation for a different day.

Instead, I simply say, “Rosk, she isn’t primitive. I’ll explain everything later, but don’t think of her as anything other than our equal.”

If I could hear a swallow, I think I heard his, but his voice is not happy. “Done.”

After a seemingly devastated Torg is brought in, and the three of them are in my head, I start to plan with them. Torg knows the ship the best, but Roskier and Virtorn help me decide on an actual plan.

We did, and now I crawl on my stomach because this crawl space was not meant for one of my kind. I made it so they can see what I am seeing and hear what I hear as I make my way to the holding cells.

Virtorn and Roskier were given the information so that they can integrate Eve’s language and understand her until she learns Universal.

Finally, after almost an hour of slow-moving, I find the hatch and open it, dropping into the main room of the holding cells. I had told Eve to sleep, and I hope she has.

But first, before I go to her, I do as we planned. I find my nightmare, the Quir. The sounds that it makes when upset, angry, happy, really anything, can affect certain species in their sleep and create hideous nightmares.

Eve thankfully doesn’t seem affected by more than the noise, but me? Oh, it affects my species. Thankfully, it’s violent and deadly, and not much will survive once I set it free.

I won’t lose sleep over this beast dying. I find it and use my bioware to set it to release shortly. But I also need to open the cells of several captives.

I didn’t tell Eve this; I wasn’t sure how she would handle it. But lives will be lost tonight. We decided it would be best to make it look like several cells had opened, and this beast was set free.

They won’t be looking for her body. I know she won’t like this, but this was a decision I had to make, and I will sleep soundly afterward.

I release as many of the domesticated creatures as I can, relieved to see they aren’t like Eve. I then head to her, unlocking her cell. She springs up, her eyes wide, not with terror, but with a spark of excitement.

“Ardaxur!” She sprints and leaps into my arms, and I hear a flurry of angry voices in my mind. I’m aware they can see her, her state, and even though they haven’t witnessed her true brilliance yet, they’re about to.

She glances around, her eyes shining, and I notice she’s wearing tight black clothes I’ve never seen her in before. She’s too skinny, but I know if things weren’t spiraling out of control, I’d be distracted right now.

“This is clever. I get what you’re doing. Releasing a bunch of animals, and I’m guessing a few predators too?”

“Exactly,” I exhale, grateful that she gets it.

She nods, a look of resignation on her face. “I don’t like it,” she gazes into my eyes, “but it’s a genius plan.” She watches the timid animals wandering around before turning back to me, tears welling in her eyes. “I just hope I’m worth it.”

Honestly, the voices in my head are so loud and distracting, I have to snap, “Shut up,” before turning to Eve to say, “Not you, Eve. And yes, you are worth everything.”

I don’t think they were prepared for everything that Eve is, and Roskier, Virtorn, and Torgan are not taking it well.

“Okay.”

I seize her hand, sprinting towards the vent, and have her place her foot in my hand. She’s weak, and can barely hoist herself up, but she manages because even when she’s weak, I can see she finds her strength when it’s needed.

The distance is great, but I’m able to leap, my strength temporarily boosted as my bioware increases blood flow to my muscles.

“Go back here, and follow me. It wouldn’t take long if it were just you, but as you can see, I can barely squeeze in here, and it took a while to get to you, about an Earth hour from the hatch closest to my room.”

“Thank you, Ardaxur.” She’s quiet, but not timid. I can hear the passion, the gratitude for her freedom. I can only hope I can ensure she remains free.