Barbarian Lover(44)
The computer calculates for a moment, then answers. “Sensors indicate there are thirty-five modified sakh, twelve modified humans, three szzt, and one—“ the computer makes a weird chirping sound that sends shivers up my spine. It sounds just like the Little Green Men. The szzt must be their guards. I rub my arms, uncomfortable. Maybe I should learn both languages.
“Huh,” Harlow says next to me.
“What?”
“I thought there were thirty four in the tribe.” She wrinkles her freckled nose. “Did someone have a baby?”
“It’s too soon,” I tell her, but I realize she’s right. The numbers are off. I move to the table and mentally count out who lives in each cave, using pieces of the small scrap metal to represent the big blue aliens. When I’m done counting, I’m still one number short than the computer.
How is it that we’re missing an alien?
I turn to Harlow, about to ask her that same question, when a searing sound cuts through the skies overhead. It reminds me of a jet plane…except there are none on this wintry planet.
The other aliens have arrived.
I turn back to the computer, grim determination on my face. “Computer, please give me the languages for the sakh, the szzt, and the last one you mentioned.”
“The ___?” Again, the bird chirp that won’t ever be pronounceable by human vocal chords.
“That’s the one.”
“Please hold steady while the information is transmitted into your memory. You may experience some discomfort—“
Blinding pain slashes through my head and that’s the last thing I remember for a good bit.
• • •
KIRA
When I wake up, Aehako’s in my face, a concerned expression drawing his brows together.
“Are you well, Sad Eyes?”
“I’m fine,” I promise him as I sit up, his hand supporting my back. “I was just getting some languages, um, installed.” I look over at Harlow and press a hand to my aching forehead. “How long have I been out for?”
“About an hour,” she says with a grimace. “Three languages might have been too much at once.”
My head throbs in response. “I think you’re right.” With Aehako’s help, I get to my feet, though I’m wobbly. I lean against Aehako, glad for his comforting presence. “Any more signs of the Little Green Men?”
“Just the sound of the ship flying overhead,” Harlow says. Her arms are crossed over her chest and it’s clear she’s worried.
“Again?” I look at Aehako with concern. “I think the aliens know we’re here.”
He rubs his mouth and considers. “What do their feet look like?”
That’s a weird question. “Their feet?”
“Haeden and I saw tracks in the snow on the way here.”
I gasp. “You didn’t say anything!”
“There was no sense in worrying you when you are already beside yourself with fear.” He touches my cheek, and my anger fades. “The tracks were unfamiliar to us.” He spreads his fingers as if they’re prongs. “Three large, spiky toes. Does that match your aliens?”
I shake my head, trying to remember. The orangey aliens with the pebbled skin had two toes, and the little green men had small, wispy feet. “So now we have something else to worry about?”
“One thing at a time,” Aehako tells me. “We should find Haeden.”
As we head out of the mechanics bay, I turn to Harlow. “You think there are still guns on the ship?”
She gives me a shocked look. “Wasn’t this a pleasure cruiser?”
“Surely even those would have some sort of defense system? We need guns if we want them to listen to us.” Now that’s a phrase I never thought I’d say.
Harlow looks worried at my suggestion. “I don’t know how to shoot a regular gun, much less an alien one.”
“Yeah, but the aliens don’t know that,” I tell her. If it comes down to it, we might have to bluff our way out of things. “If we look like we’re armed and dangerous, then maybe they’ll use a bit of caution when approaching us.”
She nods, though she doesn’t look happy. I don’t blame her. I’m not thrilled about it either, but we’re low on options. All I know is that I’m not going back with them. Period. I rub my sore ear, thinking of my memories from being a captive on the ship. Harlow doesn’t have the same memories I do. Of the constant terror. The rapes. Of being treated like you’re less than an animal. That you don’t matter.
Liz had joked that her dad had treated his farm animals better than we’d been treated, and she wasn’t wrong. To them, we were nothing more than cargo.