The time with Harlow passes surprisingly fast. There’s a schematic projected on one of the walls, and if it flickers every now and then, it’s still better than consulting a paper version. Harlow’s a genius with the metal parts, piecing things together and soldering, drilling, and basically making me feel like a useless hack. To pass the time, we talk about our old life back on earth. Harlow’s dad ran a car garage and fixit shop in Minnesota, but passed away last year. No mother in the picture, and she’d recently sold the business and wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. Turns out that isn’t an issue anymore, I suppose.
“The ironic thing?” she tells me. “I wanted to travel. I guess now I got my wish, right?”
I manage a wan smile at that.
We talk about foods that we miss, and things that we lack here – like regular shampoo and even porcelain plates. Instead of getting morose, though, Harlow grows thoughtful. “I’m sure we can bring our knowledge to the tribe and maybe improve things. And we can scavenge around here. Tiffany said she was good with makeup and hair stuff back home, so maybe she could make us soap.”
I like that Harlow doesn’t dwell on the past. Instead, she’s looking ahead to the future, to how we can improve our situation here versus mourning about what we’ve lost. It’s a great attitude.
When we take a break, we both decide to get the language dump from the computer. We take turns and Harlow goes first, and I have to admit, it’s pretty scary when she slumps and goes unconscious after the laser-beam hits her right in the eye. She’s awake a few minutes later, and I hand her the waterskin she brought. She sips it, rubs her forehead, and gives me a rueful look. “I guess it could be worse. They could speak several languages, right?”
I laugh at her words, but it makes me think about the Little Green Men. Should I learn that one, too? Just in case? I won’t be able to speak it, but it’ll be handy to know.
When it’s my turn, I call out, “Computer, can I learn more than one language at once?”
“I can insert up to three languages into your memory at once,” the computer tells me. “Which languages would you like to download?”
“The sakh language,” I tell it, the computer’s name for Aehako’s race. “And…” I pause, because I don’t know the name of the race for the Little Green Men. “Um…”
“What are you thinking?” Harlow asks me, curious. When I explain to her my idea, she nods. “Maybe if we narrow it down to sentient races in or around this planet?”
“Good idea.” I’ll need to narrow it down a bit more. I think for a moment, and then clear my throat. “Computer? How many language-speakers are there on this planet?”
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.
Here, on Not-Hoth, I matter. To Aehako and the others, I matter.
So I clear my throat. “Computer, show me what functioning weapons are still on board this ship.”
? ? ?
Two hours later, I’m bossing everyone around and trying to get things done. Haeden’s been no help, so I have him sitting on the bridge, in charge of the single defense gun that the still-somewhat-functioning computer has. He has a bright red button he can push if things go to hell that will (hopefully) activate the single gun, provided it hasn’t rusted over after all this time and the harsh weather. There are a handful of alien guns from the ship’s security, but only one has any charge left. Harlow and I debate over who’s going to handle it, but I win the argument.