I trail after the Commander with my mind reeling. Those women have never known freedom. Have never even seen Earth. They were bred like livestock and trained from childhood to please alien men. But what’s truly terrifying is how content they seemed.
I'm human, female, and alone. I clutch my necklace tighter. The small piece of metal with alien writing on it, that I can’t even read, is apparently the only thing that separatesmefromthem.
Stay calm,I tell myself. ButI remember Miranda's warnings about women who never came back. What if my “employment” is just a more elaborate version of those human “companions” I just saw? What if the only heartbreaking difference is that I was allowed to live “free” for twenty-two years first?
And now Clay’s warning about the doctors carries more meaning. If they can actually change minds through telepathy, how many of those companions started out fighting before they were “calmed” into submission?
I need to be smart about my situation and not freak out.
We stop in front of a mustard-colored door, so mundane against the ship's dark aesthetic that it seems deliberately out of place. “Your quarters,” the Commander says. “Put your hand here,” he instructs, indicating a small panel next to the door. It warms under my palm and then pricks me.
I hiss and pull back.
“Now the door is keyed to your genetic code. It'll lock and unlock for you alone.” His tone becomes serious. “But I suggest you stay insideunless I or another authorized officer escorts you to another part of the ship. This is a military vessel, and not everyone here shares the Ascendant Alliance's enlightened view about human staff.”
“What’s the worst that could happen to me if I were to go out alone?” I ask not because I really want to know, but because I need to know. No matter how bad it is, I know my imagination could come up with worse.
His eyes meet mine intensely. “Some of my men might mistake you for a different kind of human. The kind that doesn't say no.”
“Oh. I think I’ll stay in my quarters with my books.”
“Good decision.” He inclines his head in a polite gesture. “The ship's physician will examine you shortly for health clearance. Welcome aboard, and may the goddesses guide you.”
“Thank you,” I say, relying on basic politeness to mask my inner turmoil.
Once I’m inside my room, I’m surprised that it’s not like a prison cell at all. It smells like a hundred blooming flowers. More potent than any Earth perfume I’ve ever smelled. Not what I expected on a military vessel. The rest of my quarters are Spartan—black walls, a grey metal wardrobe, a narrow bed, a tiny desk, and a miniature bathroom. There’s a little window to see the stars, and I almost fall over when I see Jupiter at a distance. I go to the window and just stare at it.It’s so amazing I almost forgot about my fate and the fate of the human women I met in the corridor.
After I get over the fact we are passing a planet outside, I open all the drawers and the small closet. Hanging in the wardrobe are three black dresses. Gifts from the Celestial Spire, apparently, as there is a note, thankfully written in English.
I look at the dresses, each one crafted from a material so fine it looks like liquid shadow. I runmy fingers down one, and my skin tingles. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I try one on, and the sensation makes me shiver. The fabric clings to my body, responding to my temperature and my movements. It’s more than a good fit. It’s as if it’s a second skin but a flowing second skin of warm silk. It’s strange. Too strange for me right now. I take it off and put back on my Terra Sanctum uniform.
Then, I pick up the plain black boots. The material is finer than any leather I’ve ever felt. So, I take off my own shoes and slide these alien boots on. And they do not disappoint. My feet feel like they are enveloped in warmth and comfort like I’ve never felt before. “Not surprisingly, sci-fi boots are superior,” I say softly to myself.
Next, I look around hopefully for any underwear or bras, but I can’t find any. Only thigh-high stockings. “Don’t aliens wear underwear?” I ask under my breath. After a few minutes of looking, I come to the conclusion it was probably just a mistake. Just like there are no pajamas, but I’m certainly not going to ask the Commander for either of those things.
Then, I look around the room for the IC and find a small device about the size of a flip phone. It flashes my name the instant I touch it, letters appearing in silver light across its black surface. Curious, I try to look through it, but every screen is filled with alien hieroglyphics I can’t read. After a few seconds, I set it back down on the desk and hope I won’t have to learn this alien language.
The desk suddenly brightens at my presence, projecting a holographic interface with alien script. I wonder if it’s like Terra Sanctum and it’s a welcome message to the guest.
I sit heavily on the narrow bed, and I can’t stop my hands from shaking. Suddenly, the reality of my situation is crashing down on me like a tsunami. Those women in the corridor could be my future. And if the aliens can alter minds, change thoughts, and make people compliant... how would I even know if it was happening to me?
Ineed a plan. Rules to live by. Ways to make sure I don’t become like them.
Rule one:Never accept anything that could be a drug. No drinks. No pills. No “calming” treatments.
Rule two:Stay alert. If I start feeling too content, too happy about my situation, something's wrong.
Rule three:Remember who I am. Remember Earth. Remember that this isn't normal, no matter how normal they try to make it seem.
