“They never spoke anything but that click-click sound in front of us prisoners,” James reasoned. “How could either of us have known?”
“We should have.”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourselves,” Dr. Kincaid cut in. “The Xenocanns brought translation devices with them. I even saw one of them use a translator to learn German from one of the prisoners.”
Octavia quirked an eyebrow. “Translation devices?”
“Certainly.” The doctor nodded. “Not all of them carried them, but typically at least one per crew did.”
“What did they look like?” James asked.
“Small,” the doctor replied. “Gold, circular… didn’t look like there was much to them.”
Octavia stilled. She remembered snatching a gold, circular thing from one of the dead aliens’ bodies. It certainly matched the doctor’s description. Suddenly excited, she grabbed her backpack and rummaged through it until she located the small device. “Did it look like this?” she asked, pulling it out of her bag.
Dr. Kincaid’s eyes widened. “Yes, lass. Exactly like that.”
Her pulse quickened. “Do you know how to use it?”
“I don’t know.” The doctor shrugged. “I mean to say the only thing I saw them do was hold the circular ring up to their foreheads whilst the German man spoke in German. He didn’t say much either. It took but a few words, the feeders got what they’d wanted from him, and proceeded to eat him alive in front of me.”
“I wonder if this works on humans,” Octavia considered aloud as she looped the gold band over two of her fingers. “That would certainly help with the language barrier between us and our, uh, hosts.”
The doctor gave her a look that said he didn’t know. “There’s only one way to find out. Before you consider it, however, I’d think of a cover story. They aren’t liable to believe you are a female warlord, which is the only word in ancient Gaelic for your position as a commander.”
No, she supposed not. “Who should we say we are? You’re the expert.”
“Semi-expert. I’m more the hobbyist.”
“We’re brother and sister,” James reminded her. “You decided that.”
“A sister who orders her brother about?” The doctor didn’t appear convinced. “Not bloody likely during this period in time.”
“Okaaaay,” James said, thinking as he spoke. “Maybe you’re an Italian lady and I’m your most trusted knight?”
“A Roman lady,” the doctor corrected. “Everyone has heard of Rome. I think.”
“Fine, whatever.” Commander Benatti rolled her eyes. “I’m Lady Octavia Benatti and he is Sir James Bellamy. Does that work well enough?”
“It’s a start.” The doctor eyed her curiously. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
He vehemently shook his head. “They’ll think you a witch who’s made a pact with the devil to retain her youth.”
“Good God,” James muttered.
Dr. Kincaid nodded. “From this moment forward you are twenty-two,” he decided. “Just shave off a decade and there you go.”
“Okay I guess,” Octavia sighed. “Hopefully they don’t ask too many questions. Assuming this translation device even works on humans.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“Hold it to my forehead while you speak in Old Gaelic?”
“We could,” the doctor said, “but you’d be better off trying it with the laird.”
