He Comes in Peace

Skye struggled into a sitting position, an aching in the backs of her eyeballs. What had happened that night, or afternoon, or morning? She had no sense of time, period, even when she was not locked up in a cold, windowless room.

There was no clock on the bedside table, she found that out the before her little nap.

Her stomach rumbled just then.

Does hunger indicate the amount of time passed? she wondered sluggishly to herself. She doubted it. Last she remembered, she had not eaten anything on her trek through the forest, perhaps not even breakfast that day.

She touched a hand to the side of her head, still feeling the effects of her headache. What had previously been a fierce marching band, crashing their symbols and blowing their trumpets inside her noggin was now the dull drumming of, well, drums.

Maybe a set of bongos.

Did it really matter?

She pushed herself off the bed and nearly collapsed.

I think I'll stick with crawling, she grumbled, carefully letting herself down onto the ground.

Why did she keep speaking to herself?

"Maybe it's because I want Kartayon to hear me."

Skye clapped a hand to her mouth, wondering if that really was why she was bent upon conversing with herself.

Kartayon? she thought tentatively, feeling rather idiotic that she was attempting to reach out with her mind towards an alien she was not sure was alive, conscious, or in any sort of state well enough to communicate telepathically with her.

Kartayon, she said more firmly.

The room was now coming into more focus, and she could somewhat make out the combined total of eight metallic legs to her left.

She began to crawl towards the wall, preparing herself for another trip around the room, hoping that perhaps if she could get close enough to where Kartayon was being held, he would be able to hear her.

As she started to feel around the wall, she kept up a steady mantra of his name, over and over in her head.

Kartayon. Kartayon...Kartayon? Kartayon!

Halfway around the room, a shaft of light entered the room, causing Skye to freeze.

"Where's the girl?" came a low voice. The shaft of light broadened and shone onto Skye's face, making her squint and partially shield her face.

"There she is."

Next came a click of boots walking briskly across the room. There were two men, and they circled around the bed and table, surrounding Skye on both sides.

"Good morning."

So it is morning.

"Sleep well?"

Not really.

"Why isn't she talking?" said one man to the other.

Skye gazed up at them, her expression blank.

"Beats me."

"Stand up."

Skye was grasped on the upper arm and pulled to her feet. She started to sway slightly, and reached out to grab something that would steady her. Her hand snagged on the thick coat of one of the men.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" the man growled, throwing her hand off.

"W-Whoa!" She was caught at the last minute by the other man. He steadied her and made sure she stopped wobbling before letting go.

"You're coming with us," the nicer man said, waiting for Skye to leave the room before he did. He swept a cursory glance around her cell before closing the door behind him.

"Where are we going?" she croaked, licking her lips. She discovered that they were rather dry and cracked, after an entire day of barely any water. "What day is it? What time is it?"

"We are going down to the cafeteria."

"Cafeteria?" repeated Skye confusedly. The word somehow did not connect very well with this place. The image of her school's cafeteria floated into her mind. She pictured a long line up, the chatter of students, the scrape of chairs. How could any of that relate to this, this jailhouse?

"Yes, the cafeteria," said the man leading the way, turning his head slightly and smirking at Skye. "You know, food?"

Skye was too tired and worried to be annoyed. "There's a cafeteria here?"

The man behind her answered this time. "Yes, there is. The people here have to eat, don't they?"

"Guess so," Skye mumbled. "What day is it? What—"

"Listen, girl, you don't need to know any of these things where you're going," snapped the man in front.

Skye gave a small start and kept her mouth shut.

'Where I'm going?' Where the Hell am I going?

As if the nicer man could read her mind as easily as Kartayon could when their foreheads touched, he answered, "Don't worry about that now. It's Tuesday, and right now it's two in the afternoon."

Skye found this information less welcome than she thought it would have been.

Tuesday meant that she had been away from her mother for several days longer than she had planned. What had been she and Kartayon's original plan, anyway? Now that she thought about it, what had he been planning all along?

I went along with him like a stupid little lamb following a shepherd. Where was he planning on taking me? How could following him have helped me?"

She frowned and batted those thoughts away. If she had stayed at home, she may have ended up in the exact same place anyway, except sooner.

She moistened her lips and croaked out another question. "Where is Kartayon?"

"Kar-who?" both men asked.

"Kartayon. The...the alien." She winced when she called him that.

"I don't think that information is really necessary," said the man behind. They were walking down several flights of stairs now, one set after the other until Skye felt her knees wobble.

When they stepped out onto even ground again, Skye pressed a hand against the wall and took a little breather.

Part of her wanted to pull something brash, something like kick both her guards in the sensitives and run away as fast as she could, hoping that by banging on as many doors as she could and screaming mentally and aloud Kartayon! she would be able to find him, rouse him, and they could both escape together.

But then the sensible part of her shook her head and tsked. Brash plans never worked out.

They opened a set of heavy metal double doors and entered the busiest part of the building Skye could imagine.

Scientists, or demons, Skye thought viciously, were bustling around, having food ladled onto their trays and beverages being filled in Styrofoam cups.

Her mouth watered, but when she caught sight of a mass of scientists dressed in white occupying quite some attention in the center of the eating area, her hunger vanished and her breath quickened.

In the center of all the attention was Kartayon, shackles buckled onto his wrists and ankles, heavy metal chains strapping him to the bench that other scientists sat freely on, a snarl on his face, his body writhing and fighting against his restraints.