Page 2 of No Strings Attached

“Hey, what’s your name?” That came from his right.

“Bahbi,” he told the Trallian who had appeared in the top bunk of the row to his right. “What’s yours?”

“Trakluved.”

Bahbi gave a deep nod, acknowledging the other’s position in the middle of his litter and, thus, superiority over him. “I thought top bunks were for runts. What are you doing up there?”

“Staying away from the superiority/inferiority complexes of these other pricks around us,” he said, whiskers twitching in either amusement or annoyance.

Bahbi wouldn’t know for sure unless he got to know Trakluved better. Although he knew that he had never metanyonelike Trakluved before, so it was possible he might never understand him. His one statement had set him out as wholly singular in Bahbi’s entire existence up until now. Not having a clue how to reply, he simply nodded again to acknowledge the words.

Trakluved asked, “Which city are you from?”

“Goalia. You?”

“Sterm.”

Bahbi nodded again, feeling like his head was on a spring. “My litter’s warrior won a competition in Sterm. My mother presented the video footage of the victory each night for a year when we were young. I thought it was a very beautiful city. I often admired the view of the mountains ringing the arena during the viewing each night.”

“Yes, the views are nice, but it’s cold—freeze your cock off cold. I liked the warmer temperatures of Goalia when I was there looking for an apprenticeship, although the population density meant that my chance of success was very small. Still, even though I failed, I can still recall all the tastes of the endless variations of Goalian street curries, and that’s its own type of success.” Trakluved leaned back on the mattress with a wistful look on his face.

Bahbi smiled a little; he felt the same wistful pang at the thought of his favorite street curries. “In what area were you seeking an apprenticeship?”

“Any area. It was during the one-year grace period. I failed and was shipped out at 15.”

“Here?”

Laughing, Trakluved said, “Hell no. I’m 27 now and have had 10 placements. You?”

“I’m 25 and this is my first. My litter dispersed at 15 like everyone’s, but my mother was heavy with her next litter then and selected me to stay for their first 10 years. We couldn’t afford staff, so my mother selected one from every litter to do all the jobs necessary until the next litter reached 10. From 10 to 15, the littermates themselves learn the jobs and compete for the role, so I was no longer needed.”

“Fuck me, but that’s a sweet deal. Always the runt?”

“No. Whoever was the most skilled in doing all the jobs. Everyone was trained and evaluated.” Bahbi paused for a moment, before adding, almost unnecessarily, “Everyone except the warrior, of course. Or the female.”

“Of course.” Trakluved sneered. “Everyone except the goddamned warrior. Or the female.”

Bahbi was taken aback, then paused, and thought for a moment. Smiling sheepishly, he asked, “So, Trakluved, do you think you can show me how to operate the shock sticks?”

Grinning back, he replied, “Call me Trak.”

Four: She’s Gone Feral

Cut off in themiddle of “Nobody Home,” Vi saw her look of surprise mirrored on the Grey when the lid of her statis pod opened. And that was…something, to say the least. Without eyes that could widen, or eyebrows that could raise, she wasn’t sure how her mind was interpreting the expression as one of surprise until she made conscious note of the open mouth gape. Her mouth was the same as it had been for nearly a month, crammed full of respirator, but she could feel her eyes bugging out of her head, and it felt like her eyebrows were in her hairline. Her whole body had stiffened at the sound of the lid’s seal being broken, followed by the current sight of a Hollywood movie alien leaning into her pod and staring at her, dumbfoundedly. Then, she heard a conversation take place inside her head.

What the fuck, Gagnor?! She’s awake!

What do you mean?

What doyoumean, “what do you mean?” She’s fucking AWAKE. Did you forget to administer the stasis gas? Has shebeen awake this whole fucking time? Qlu’s going to kill us if we’ve damaged her.

No, Flot, I didn’t forget. I’m not an imbecile.

Without pausing to marvel at the miracle of telepathic communication, Vi instinctively tried to send a mental scream at them:GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF THIS POD. NOW. I will rip every limb and appendage off o--

Suddenly, her mind was filled with buzzing, and she lost the ability to even think words on her own, much less project them into the minds of these aliens. They had blocked her transmission somehow. She started to think of the most ghastly, violent imagery she could, trying to push it from her mind into theirs. Images of her running nakedly amok through the ship, ripping their heads off their bodies with her bare hands, slashing through their torsos with a giant hunting knife, feeding their long fingers into their decapitated heads, painting her name onto the walls of their ship in green blood: VI WAS HERE, MOTHERFUCKERS.

It occurred to her that she very well might have become a little deranged during her interminable captivity, because she intrinsically knew that she would follow through on each and every one of those images if only given the tiniest of chances.

---