She sighed, slumping against the door, knowing there was nothing more to be done at the moment. She flattened her palm against the window, looking out at the Fibbun who’d surprised her with this kindness. “Thank you,” she whispered, knowing he’d never hear her, but hoping he’d see the gratitude in her eyes.
She might be locked in a jail cell on an enemy spaceship with no way home, but at least she wasn’t alone. At least she had Bain.
The guard grunted a sentence to his buddy and Lina watched them both retreat down the hallway as far as she could until they disappeared through the airlocks.
For a long moment, Lina just pressed herself against the door, watching that airlock through the window, praying someone would come back through it as the pressure of hopelessness grew heavier and heavier, crushing her slowly from the inside.
Bain moaned behind her and Lina took a great shuddering breath, bolstering herself before she turned to face him.
Instantly, her heart ached. He looked so helpless and broken there curled up on the floor. And all of this because he’d tried to save her, the fool.
“Come on, let’s get you into bed,” she said, crouching down to the floor.
This cell of theirs wasn’t too bad, really. It reminded her of the quarantine area — everything white and plain, though perhaps not entirely sterile. There was a cot attached to one wall, big enough for a Fibbun, so plenty large enough for the two of them, a table with a chair, and another chair with a little light above it. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it wasn’t really inhumane either.
Bain grumbled and moaned again, completely limp and useless as she tried to heave him up toward the cot.
“Come on,” she grunted, using all her strength to just drag him across the metal floor. He wasn’t even conscious at this point, his head lolling to the side, his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Hopefully these drugs wear off fast,” she muttered, knowing no one was listening. She wanted to talk to him, to ask him about her doubts, to get a feeling for how he really felt about all of this, but there was no use until the drugs wore off and he was back to normal.
Finally, she managed to heave him up into the cot, bringing the thin blanket up to cover him and tucking it in on all sides like he’d done to her when she was still under Farita’s care. How far they’d come since then. How the tables had turned.
“You just get some rest and get to feeling better,” she said, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead.
At first, his face was scrunched up, scowling in his sleep, but eventually the expression softened and he seemed to fall into a restful, dreamless sleep.
Lina yawned, exhausted though not really tired enough to sleep. Besides, she wanted to keep an eye on Bain. She sat in the chair at the table, slumping forward with her elbows resting on it. It was going to be a long, boring wait.
A light above her flicked on and there was a soft chime as it turned green, lighting the table the same color. She frowned, but before she could even wonder what was going on, the wash of green light changed to a projection of symbols — Fibbun words. None of it made sense to her though, and she wondered why the projection existed, especially over her table. Was this some sort of glitch? Was she supposed to be seeing it?
Lina scowled, staring at the symbols, trying through sheer force of will to make sense of them. But they remained as confusing as ever, their meaning elusive.
Though the projection itself was odd, it was equally odd that it was a static screen. Nothing changed on it, none of the words altered at all. Everything was very still, like it was waiting for some response. But how could she interact with it?
She looked up at the projector again, squinted against the bright green light. She couldn’t see anything though, her eyes coming away with spots.
“Oh-kay…” she exhaled, shaking out her hands before gently tapping the surface of the table, barely able to watch what happened through squinting eyes.
The moment her finger touched the table, the symbols around it lit up and then the projector shut off with another beep.
“Great. No idea what that did,” she grumbled, climbing up on the chair to get closer to the projector. It was still too far above her head to access, but she could see a sensor next to it, something that must have been monitoring the reflected light to identify her selection. But what had that selection meant?
She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Another cheerful beep sounded and Bain grumbled, pulling the blankets tighter around himself as he rolled over in his sleep. Immediately following the beep, the wall next to the table opened up and a shelf bearing a plate of steaming food extended. The shelf retracted, letting the plate drop the inch or so with a clatter, but nothing spilled.
Lina wasn’t entirely sure that it was food, but the way her stomach grumbled at the sight and smell of it was a good enough indicator that she should at least taste it. Maybe it was poisoned. Maybe it was food she’d not be able to digest. But at this point, she’d gone almost two days without anything to eat and she didn’t care. She was starving.
The food on the plate looked like some kind of stew, thick and meaty with a spicy, savory scent that made the mouth water. Whatever it was, it was enticing. There was a spoon attached to the side of the plate — it never ceased to amaze her how such different cultures could find the same answer to similar problems — and she pulled it free, taking a spoonful of the foreign stew and bringing it to her lips.
She tasted it slowly at first, with just the tip of her tongue grazing the hot contents of the spoon, but then that tiny taste turned to a mouthful and before she knew it, the whole plate was empty and she was licking it clean with her fingers.
It wasn’t just edible food, it was delicious food. Far better than she would have expected, and now with her belly full, she began to grow tired. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours from when she’d been woken up by alarms on their escape ship to now, but somehow it felt like days had passed.
She looked over her shoulder to Bain, sleeping peacefully tangled in the blanket. It looked so inviting to just crawl into the cot next to him, but she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of them both being asleep in here at the same time. That seemed dangerous. Besides, if she went to sleep and Bain woke up hungry, he wouldn’t know how to make the food delivery system work. Not that she was completely sure she understood it.
And there was still the chance that he’d wake up raving mad and make matters worse before she could explain her concerns to him. Before they could talk about her doubts. He could start the war anew before she ever got the chance to tell him there might be another way.
So she needed to stay awake. It was easier said than done. Already, with her elbow on the table and her chin in hand, Lina’s eyes drifted slowly downward, her head lolling forward.
She snapped her head back up and shook it, trying to wake herself.
Just think, she told herself. Find something to keep busy with.
That was also easier said than done. The room didn’t seem to offer much in the way of distractions or entertainment. And the harder she tried to think of something, the more all she could focus on was the rattling of an air vent in the corner. It was vibrating just enough to be a constant annoyance and once she’d homed in on it, there was no ignoring it.
“Okay, fine. I’ll deal with that first,” she muttered under her breath, as if talking to someone bigger that was steering her towards it. Without anyone to talk to most of her life, Lina had grown accustomed to talking to the Universe at large. It often seemed to push her in unlikely directions, but they’d always worked out previously.
She crouched down, looking around the room for the vent before spotting it under the cot in the corner.
“Of course,” she grumbled, crawling under the bed to access the vent. Fixing the rattle was only a matter of tightening a couple of bolts, but while she was under the bed, she spotted a puddle on the other side of the room, hiding behind the chair.
She shimmied out from under the bed, the rattling mercifully gone, and wandered over to the other corner where a leak in the ceiling made a steady drip drip into the puddle below.
She looked around for something to dry up the spill with, but found nothing available and still the drip drip came steadily. She couldn’t hear it before, over the rattling of the air vent, but now it was driving her crazy.
Climbing up on the corner chair, she used all her strength to pry the ceiling panel away from the others enough to find the source of the leak. If any guards were around, the sound of metal scraping and bending should have alerted them, but no one came.
Up in the ceiling, there was hardly any space, just enough for pipes and air ducts, not enough room for even her to fit. So it wouldn’t serve as an escape route, at the very least.
Still, she managed to locate the dripping pipe and ran her fingers along it until she found the split where liquid was escaping. She wasn’t sure what the liquid was — it was clear and odorless, for all she knew it could be water — but she still wanted to be careful about touching it and letting it stay on her skin. Some acids didn’t start burning until hours later or it could be something that would cause an allergic reaction. There was no telling, but caution was always her best bet.
But without feeling her way around, how would she patch it?
She remembered the diode in her pocket, amazed that it hadn’t been confiscated in Quarantine or lost on the ship somewhere. Mom’s present had come in handy way too many times recently; she was never happier to have it.
Connecting the circuit that turned the light on, Lina perched on her tiptoes on the back of the chair and thrust the diode into the space she’d made. Now it was easy to see where the leak was coming from and the rust gathering around it. She hand-tightened a few of the connections, but the problem lay with a crack in the body of the pipe, not any of the seams and she’d need something to repair it with.
Her eyes roved around the room, looking for something she could salvage as a patch, but the only thing she found was the blanket tangled around Bain’s limbs. At least it was better than ripping her own clothes to shreds.
So, as quietly as she could, she opened up the seam on one edge of the blanket and ripped until she had one long strip of fabric off the bottom. Bain didn’t even move.
She climbed back up on the chair, balancing with her arms held out to either side, and wrapped the cloth around the split pipe, tying it tightly. It wouldn’t hold the leak in forever. Or even for a few days, but it would stop the drip for now. It would give her some peace.
Of course, after the leak, she found a floor panel that was sticking up and tripped her, and then there was the wobbly leg of the table, and when a shelf extended from the wall for her dirty dishes, the servos clicked and stuck until she dislodged a metal shaving that was caught in the gears.
By the time Bain woke up, Lina had repaired something in every part of the room. There were no more drips or clicks or rattling to be heard. The surfaces were level and it was safe to walk around without fear of tripping or injuring yourself. She hadn’t meant to do it, but one thing came after another and… well, here they were.
Bain groaned as he started to wake, stretching, his eyes bleary and blinking. At first, he looked confused, glancing around the white room, but then his eyes landed on Lina and his furrowed brow smoothed, his expression softening.
“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse and strained.
Lina got up and sat on the edge of the cot next to him. “Hey,” she said back. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” he said, sounding unsure. “Thirsty,” he added, licking his lips.
“Right,” Lina answered, standing to move to the dining table and chair. The projector flickered on and she frowned at the symbols. How had she flipped on the translations before in Quarantine?
“Ummm,” she said, tapping a spot on the table. A moment later, the shelf extended from the wall and dropped a bowl of something resembling porridge on the table.
“Not quite right…” she muttered, tapping again.
Bain inhaled deeply, sitting up now. “Smells good though.”
This time, a plate with some kind of meat dish fell to the table. Lina swept away the porridge bowl so that they didn’t start stacking, but still, she hadn’t figured out water.
“Lina?”
“I’m going to get this,” she grumbled.
“Lina?” Bain tried again, as she tapped something else on the screen and a bowl of yellow-green broth appeared.
“No, I can do it,” she said, not looking back to him. But he didn’t answer and it was enough to make her narrow her eyes and turn, finding him smirking.
“What?”
“You’re cute when you’re frustrated,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?”
“Well, I was thinking that I’m starving and I might just inhale all the food you’re ordering, but other than that… yes,” he answered, his eyes glittering green.
“Sorry,” she said, sheepish as she delivered the bowl of porridge, handing him the spoon that was attached to the underside.
“Thank you,” he said, gratitude filling every syllable as he dug in.
She went back to the table and studied the display longer while she listened to the sounds of Bain eating. The slurp of each bite, the metal-on-metal scraping of the spoon against the sides of the bowl, his short breaths, trying to cool the steaming food. At least he was awake now. That was a step in the right direction.
She focused on the display and tried to recall the layout of the screen in Quarantine. The interface there had been a bit more intuitive for a foreigner to figure out. This one definitely assumed she knew what she was reading. But would that mean it wouldn’t have a translation at all? There was a string of symbols that looked familiar and she tapped it, waiting for another plate of hot food to appear. But instead, the projection flickered and then changed, morphing into words she could actually read. Sort of.
The letters were ones she recognized, but most of the actual words were very broken English and didn’t make a lot of sense. She guessed that was just more of their differences shining through. Like how the Fibbuns didn’t seem to have a word for privacy.
She navigated the menus on the table while Bain continued eating and finally found the section for drinks. She never would have found it on her own. She tapped for water and waited.
Nothing happened.
She tapped it again, and again nothing.
“Uh, Lina?” Bain called hesitantly through a mouth full of porridge.
“Do you need more?”
“Turn around.”
She clenched her jaw, trying to be patient as he interrupted her puzzle-solving. She just wanted to get this thing figured out. She probably should have done it before he woke if she didn’t want distractions.
Still, she’d humor him. She turned around and found that a portion of the wall between the cot and the corner chair had disappeared, opening into what looked like a separate bathroom. Not quite the set-up either of them was used to, but obvious enough in its purpose.
“Oh,” she said on an exhale. “Well, that’s one way to get water, I guess.”
She frowned, looking back at the interface. So if that wasn’t it… She tapped another section and a glass extended from the wall, a nozzle following to fill it.
“Ha!” she cried, triumphant at last. Handing the glass over to Bain, she took his empty porridge bowl. “Anything else?”
He shook his head, eyes wide, utter bewilderment looking almost comical on him.
“What…” he started, then stopped, shaking his head with a wince. His hand came up and cradled his forehead before he leaned back against the pillows and gulped down the glass of water.
“Everything alright?” Lina asked, taking a spot next to him, her feet swinging from the edge of the cot. Now that she’d figured out the projector’s interface, she couldn’t stop grinning. They had everything they needed. Except for answers.
“I’m just… confused,” Bain said, still holding his head. “Where are we? Were we rescued?”
Lina nibbled her bottom lip. “No, not exactly… Do you remember us being captured?”
“Yes, of course. And that huge thing taking you away while his friend shot me.”
“Right,” she said, dragging out the syllable. How was she going to explain this to him?
“I think… I think we might have the wrong idea about these people?”
Bain frowned, his forehead creasing as his fingers tightened on the glass. “‘These people’? We’re still on their ship?”
She nodded slowly, bracing for the impact of his inevitable freak-out.
“But… I don’t understand,” he finally said with a sigh. Whatever drugs they’d given him hadn’t just made him loopy and tired; there was obviously some lingering effect plaguing him.
“Why don’t you lay back?” she suggested, remembering how exhausted and weak she’d felt from her trip through the transporter. If he was feeling even half of that, he shouldn’t be exerting himself.
He resisted as she pushed on his chest, but finally he laid back, pulling her with him, his arm wrapped around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and her eyes started to drift closed as he played with her hair. “How about you start from the beginning. My memory is… lacking.”
Lina nodded and began to relay her encounter with the guard, then their meeting with the Captain. “You were… less than cordial,” she said carefully. “Though I’m hoping we can explain that it was just the drugs you were on.”
His hand tightened on her arm, his body going stiff. “Why should we explain anything to them?”
Lina propped herself up on her elbow and looked deep into his eyes. “Don’t you want to get out of here? Go back home?”
“I don’t see how that’s possible at this point.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “Of course you don’t. It’s possible by talking to them. Maybe there’s some common ground to be found here? I know they’re different, but just look around, Bain—” she said, gesturing to their plain little apartment. It was definitely more of an apartment than a jail cell. “Is this really how you’d treat prisoners? They tended your wounds and made sure you weren’t in pain. When they could have put us in different rooms, they showed mercy and kept us together. Even this place… there’s all the food we could need, there’s clean facilities — which, sure, probably need repairs — but I think they’ve given us equal or better accommodations to what they’re used to. That’s just not how you treat someone you think is less than you. It’s not how you treat prisoners you plan to kill.”
Bain’s expression didn’t change, but he also didn’t argue.
“I just wonder… I wonder if this isn’t all some kind of misunderstanding,” she said, tiptoeing lightly around the subject.
He sat up straighter, his arm falling from around her, leaving her to shiver. “How could you even think a thing like that? You spoke to my mother. You know the things they’ve done to my people. The things they probably did to your parents.”
She nibbled her lip, considering it. “But… most of that happened a very long time ago, didn’t it? We don’t really know what happened to my parents. It might not have had anything to do with the Fibbuns. And honestly, at this point, it doesn’t matter. They gave me up so I could have a better life and I did. The rest of the details are irrelevant.” Lina had never really been one of those abandoned children that longed to reconnect with her parents. She felt no real connection to the idea of them and had only ever cared about finding out if there were more people like her somewhere. And she’d found that. That and so much more. So whether her parents were alive or dead, freed or enslaved, it didn’t make much of a difference to her.
“All I’m saying is that the war was hundreds of years ago and maybe things have changed? Maybe they’ve changed.”
Bain folded his arms and stood, starting to pace around the room before his knees buckled and he had to sit back down. “So what? You think we should just try to talk to them and get our freedom?”
She shrugged. “What harm could it do?”
He wasn’t budging, still completely rigid with his back turned to her. “Well, while you’re trying to make peace with the warmongering aliens, I’ll be trying to find us a way out of here. I could use your help if you come to your senses.”
“Bain, please, just consider that—”
“No, Lina. They destroyed our ship. They captured us. They shot me. I don’t know how much more evidence you need that they’re our enemies.”
“They’ve also treated us well, kept us fed, and been fairly reasonable, all things considered. Could you say that your people would treat them with the kindness they’ve shown us?”
He expelled a sharp breath. “Of course not. They’d instantly be jailed and interrogated.”
“Because that’s how you treat an enemy,” she said carefully. “But that’s not what’s happening now.”
“Maybe they’re stupid.”
She just narrowed her eyes at him, pursing her lips. “You can’t possibly believe that. Their technology has far surpassed that of Mabnoa. This foodmaker alone is technology I wouldn’t even begin to know how to replicate.”
He grunted.
“You’re just being stubborn,” she retorted, anger creeping into her voice. Why did he have to be so difficult about it? She’d presented all her evidence in a clear and logical manner and he just refused to listen. Did he really think he knew that much better than her? Or did he not trust her judgement? Either way, it didn’t bode well for their future cooperation.
“And you’re being naive,” he spat back. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said quickly, staggering toward the bathroom, his hand on the wall for support.
Lina wanted to offer to help him, to do what she could to make it easier, but she bit her tongue, instead laying back in the cot and curling up against the wall, her back to the rest of the room. That certainly could have gone better.