It's been days. No, weeks. Years? How long have I been trapped here, staring into the mustard walls of my prison cell?
The hair on my legs stands up as another mechanical screech emits from the Xani's base. It lies on its side with wide, empty eyes and a slack jaw drinking the dirt.
My burns don't hurt. It was if I was never smacked with the fiery sticks. Like it was a dream or another reality. The assaulted area on my shoulder is covered in a thin coating of the brown dust. Back when I was in the URE prison, I always complained about the shared shower time with the rest of the inmates, but at least I had showers. Now, I have nothing. Part of me wonders how much spit I'd need to form a good lather in my armpits.
I stink.
The plugged hole in the ground for my makeshift toilet is fine until I uncork it. The wafting stench lingers in the air for hours after.
I can't get escape the sour taste from the only food source they provide me with. Pulling the salty blue rind from the fleshy, pink pulp, I plop the squelching fruit in my mouth and toss the leftovers at the Xani. It hasn't budged since Knuckles left five hundred years ago. I wonder what he's doing now.
The boredom is interminable. At least my son is okay. I can handle anything as long as I know he's healthy.
"What do they have you for?" I ask my companion, wondering if it understands me.
Its blank expression is unchanged.
"Do you have any family here?"
No movement.
"You look stunning today. Have you done something with your hair?"
"Christ, you've gone completely mad." I recognize Knuckles' voice bellowing from the helmet speaker before I see him emerge from behind the dropped wall of pebbles.
"What took you so long?" I struggle to stand.
"I haven't even been gone more than eighteen Earth hours. What are you babbling about?" He steps through with Coodi close behind.
The Xani rustles and gears up, its engines whizzing under its legs.
Coodi jumps between them. Her arms outstretched on either side of her to block its path toward her asset. The Xani settles in the corner, the gears whistling low as if it's waiting for her to make the first stupid move.
When Coodi accepts their impasse, she lowers her arms and steps aside, keeping her body between the Xani and my medic.
"Don't be alarmed," Knuckles shouts at it, horrifying Coodi. "I'm a friend. I am here to assist your fertile hostage. You may sacrifice her to your heathen gods after our examination, if you must, but make sure I'm bloody well out of the vicinity when you do it."
The Xani flutters, its legs bustling around as the blades spin at intermittent speeds.
"He's impressed you know of his gods," I translate with mock expertise. "And wonders if you would like to meet them."
Knuckles chuckles softly as he pulls a square, folded garment from under his arm. "I brought you a present. We convinced your overlords to make one concession to keep you healthy enough for trial." He drops a contrived wink. "And that your Earth baby is somewhat of a future dignitary, so you must get whatever means to make sure it lives through the night or else the Tadj will have to face a bitter war against a new Earthen enemy."
"Earthen?" The name sounds strange in my mouth.
"It seems to be what we are called in these parts. What I find strange is that we are not the first ones they have seen. Especially from the jolly disposition your hosts greeted me with at the entrance, I'm afraid to say we may not be well liked in this stretch of solar system."
"You say that like it's good news. What are you so excited about, Knuckles? Have you missed me this much?"
"You've been placed under our personal care," he confesses, unfolding the garment and measuring it up against my body. "Warrant Officer Coodi and I are your designated guardians during this lovely incarceration."
"You're going to be staying in prison with me? That's really sweet."
"Oh, no, we're staying at the posh inn just down the road from here, but we'll be in frequent contact. I'm thrilled to be off that upended cluster of crap. God, I hate you and your hideous craft." He says the last bit at the Xani.
I watch Coodi shift uncomfortably. For once in her life, she needs to relax.
"He's mortally offended," I say with an attempt at seriousness. "You will be the first sacrifice upon our return to his planet. Do you hear that, Coodi? Your asset's going to be thrown off a mountain alter into a pit of knives."
Coodi doesn't look amused. Knuckles, however, is glowing.
"It's a "he" now?"
"I named him John."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister John. If only you had thumbs, I'd teach you how to handle this one so I could spend the next thirty days doing real scientific work."
I push my arms through the holes in the gown and turn so Knuckles can tie the ends behind me. "What kind of scientific work are you planning on ditching me for?"
"Have you seen this planet?"
"No, I got here with my eyes closed."
"There are two atmospheres in this world. We are technically subterranean, but the environment here is more active and alive than our environment in the Before Days. Did you notice the ground as you descended?"
"Again, I came down with—"
"Right, right, your eyes closed. You're a right comedienne." He pushes my shoulders back so I lean against the wall. With our normal banter, his hands on my arms, and his face in my sights, I forget, for a fraction of a second, that I've massively fucked up.
Knuckles talks. He talks and talks for ages about his observations of the planet and I am forced to endure each word. But I soak it in, because I know that it won't last long. Soon he'll leave me, and I'll be alone with my stoic partner for another bout of endless hours.
"What's this thing?" I tap the tubing around my upper lip.
"That's what's keeping you alive without your suit. It's an oxygen mask. The Tadj have sensitive skin that connects to their brain which allows them to soak up necessary molecules to fuel their bodies through osmosis. Fascinating."
He rambles on in his monologue, searching his satchel for tools.
"Your device is a modification of the one they all wear. Notice their own devices?"
I remember seeing the mask. I remember the bartender tuning it. "It's a translator of some kind."
"Precisely."
"That would really come in handy," I say as Knuckles compresses my abdomen. "Especially because maybe then I could understand what the hell is going on in that one's brain." My sharp nod gets both Knuckles and Coodi contemplating the passive Xani in the corner.
It lifts its head as if understanding we were talking about it. Coodi shifts into a straighter form. She crosses her arms and glares at the creature.
That seems to be the one form of language we do share. It keeps its tense stance and so does she.