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Alien Ship
A Cell
The swish of the door opening woke Macy. She sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes when a thing walked into the cell. Images flashed in her mind of shadows with black eyes and thick boots. It looked like a man with a shark head—a great white shark, not a hammerhead. The light reflecting off its skin made her shudder. It shimmered like a wet slimy fish. The sharkman stared at her, its black eyes showing no warmth or emotion as it held something out to Cyndi, speaking to her in strange hisses and clicks. Cyndi responded adding an almost melodic quality to the sounds. Macy’s eyes widened as she clambered to her feet, pulling her pajama gown closed around her sleep shirt. At least it reached her knees, but the knowledge of her nudity underneath didn’t help her feel any better.
“Ew,” she said as soon as the door closed behind it. The lighting flickered from white to yellow again. “And you can talk to it?”
“Yup, thing in the ear, remember?” Cyndi offered a smile. “Here, one protein bar for you and water packets. Finally.” She handed a bar and packet to Macy before sitting. “They don’t often bring water.”
Macy consumed the meager fare. When Cyndi tossed the packets onto the floor, Macy did the same but squealed when the wrappers disintegrated into thin air. She leaped to her feet and darted to the farthest corner. Cyndi laughed.
“Not funny,” Macy mumbled.
Cyndi’s laughter dwindled into giggles and ended with hiccups.
They sat in silence for what felt like two hours before Cyndi asked her to sing something. Macy sang a modernish love song, as in released the last few years before the media ban.
“Are these the usual ones you sing?” Cyndi snuggled against the wall.
Macy slipped off her nightgown, settled beside Cyndi, and draped the nightgown across their laps. “Nope, I sing some of the greats from Frank Sinatra or Nina Simone.”
“I would’ve loved to have seen you perform.” Cyndi’s expression turned wistful.
Macy arched a brow then dipped her chin to her chest. She’d never had friends who supported her. It would’ve been wonderful to know Cyndi was in the crowd, cheering for her.
“Why is that surprising?”
Macy raised her gaze and attempted a shrug. “I see you more as a pop fan if music wasn’t illegal.”
“I am, of course, but the greats are...classic.” She flashed Macy another smile.
Tossing her nightgown onto Cyndi’s lap, Macy jumped up, grabbed the imaginary microphone, and belted out a classic from Nina Simone.
Cyndi clapped, singing along with far more enthusiasm than skill. At a scraping, like metal along stone, she tackled Macy to the floor, yelling at her to keep her eyes shut. Thick, sticky foam rained on them, saturating them, and bringing on the shivers.
Time slowed as they lay sprawled in the icky substance and waited, their breathing ragged. When all was clear, Cyndi pushed off Macy.
“What the hell?” Macy sat up, wiping the stuff off her face, not willing to open her eyes until she was sure it was safe to do so. That took a few swipes before she was confident enough to try a peek. Cyndi held out the nightgown. Macy accepted it and buried her face in it. Having been trapped between Cyndi and Macy, it was dry.
“Some sort of detergent. It burns the eyes,” Cyndi wrung out her hair that hung limply over a shoulder.
With trembling fingers, Macy gathered the dank mess of her hair. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes. She let them flow while she twisted the remnants of foam from her hair.
“Just give the foam a few minutes. It evaporates.”
Macy shivered at the thick, soapy feel of the foam coating her skin. Oh, what I’d do for a shower. And a coffee. Ramen noodles would be wonderful about now. She sucked in a sharp breath. With Cyndi’s gaze on her, Macy couldn’t lose her shit. Her new friend needed her to be strong.
Forcing a chuckle, she said, “Dammit, Cyndi, I lost my mic.”
~*~
“My folks are on an arctic cruise. Mom saved up forever for it.” Cyndi sucked on the protein bar as if it tasted like a grilled cheese sandwich.
Macy shuddered, staring at hers, untouched and resting on her lap. A sharkman must have delivered it while she slept. “But I thought ship cruises had fallen away.”
“Nope, just fewer, I guess. When the polar ice caps melted, there wasn’t much to see. Now that they’re frozen again and losing large chunks of ice, the cruises are available.” Cyndi licked her thumb and grimaced. “My younger brother Allen is a pilot for ESA.”
“Earth Space Agency?” Macy clasped her hands to her chest. “Does he fly into outer space?”
“Sometimes, though mostly between Earth and Lunar Base.” Cyndi dipped her head and sniffed. “He always wanted to explore space, and here I am beating him to it.” When she raised her chin, tears had pooled on her eyelashes. “What about you, Macy? Who are you leaving behind?”
Darkness crushed Macy’s chest, and she struggled to breathe. She blinked the haze aside and focused on Cyndi. “I...have no one. My gran just died, but I lost my mom and aunt years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” Cyndi squeezed Macy’s hand.
Macy usually shrugged off sympathy, but this time, she covered Cyndi’s hand. “So, I can venture into space as free as a bird.”
Cyndi grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
“Will you be missed?” Macy draped her nightgown across their laps. As thin as it was, it provided some relief from the cold.
“Only from work. Allen doesn’t check in on me unless Mom asks him to. We don’t have a close relationship. He’s quite a bit younger than me.”
“I wonder how they scout us out?” Macy frowned. “I mean, you and I were miles apart and alone. They can’t have thousands of aliens lurking in the shadows ready to nab an unsuspecting woman.”
“They scan the city, searching for unguarded female lifeforms.”
Well, that explains it. “So owning a sex-cyb wouldn’t have saved me.” She grinned. “Good to know.”
“Ew, Macy.” Cyndi giggled. “Would you do a cyborg?”
“Hell, yes, when the alternative is—” she flashed her palms, “fresh air.”
“They do come without emotional baggage.”
Macy laughed. “Yes, yes, they do.”
That day of girlish chit-chat went far to bolster Macy. By the time she found herself confronting an alien, she knew almost everything about Cyndi, from her favorite color to the worst childhood memory. Macy had shared as much.
When the sharkman had stepped into the cell, as her alien first contact, color her unimpressed. Part of her had hoped Cyndi had misheard Yithians for Etterians. But alas, what stepped through that door was in no way bronze-skinned and gorgeous.
It had entered again—Scarface, Cyndi called it. Macy watched the arrogant son of a bitch—without a doubt. And the way he spoke down to Cyndi, his words clipped, his gaze unwavering as if he addressed a lesser species, shot fire through Macy until her heartbeat deafened her and a wave of heat flushed her body from her toes to her ears.
What gave them the right to steal women? Yes, yes, the fittest survive, she got that. One would think aliens were superior with better things to do than kidnap defenseless people and cart them off to who knew where. What if she’d had a child? What if she had a sick parent? And the least they could have done was provide a freakin’ blanket. Last night, she’d slept like shit. Freezing cold, shivering on a rigid surface with damp clothing due to their idea of sanitation, all thanks to these idiots. She’d be lucky if she didn’t get pneumonia.
She’d had enough. From whence she got the courage or stupidity, she would never know. While Scarface hissed at Cyndi, Macy stormed up to it and poked it in the chest. The thick armor bruised her fingertip, but the pain didn’t stop her. She only wished it had or if her conscience—in her gran’s voice—had been vocal. It hadn’t. It had, in fact, been unusually quiet. Probably scared shitless, which she realized in hindsight may have been the better approach.
Cyndi’s eyes were wide when Macy shoved past her. “Macy, no,” she whispered, dragging her fingers along Macy’s arm as if to yank her back.
Macy shook her off and faced it, poking him again with another finger. “Listen here, fish breath. I demand you free us. Who the hell gave you the right to take us?” Macy huffed, gripping her hips.
He placed his three-fingered hand in the middle of her chest and shoved, sending her flying. She stumbled but caught her balance.
“Don’t touch me,” she yelled, her fist raised.
He hefted his black gun with the yellow blinking light and, without hesitation, fired at her.
She hadn’t seen that one coming. Why hadn’t she noticed the damn thing in his hands? Idiot! Her gran’s voice echoed in Macy’s head as she writhed on the floor, the fiery tingles that had preceded her kidnapping once more traversing her body, numbing her limbs, and smothering her ability to speak.
On a whimper, she froze, now immobile. Scarface stomped across, hissed something at a jabbering Cyndi then fired at Macy again.
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