6. Talia

Chapter 6

Talia

H ow had I gone from closing up the dance studio to lying on a crude bunk inside a cell within a lizard alien mining operation? Sadly, I doubted any of the lizards were eager to learn dance. I suspected I’d soon be handed a pickaxe and a bucket and told to dig.

At least I felt clear in the head now. My arm no longer throbbed, and the fever I’d thrashed through had left my body. I was on the mend, and grateful for it. I couldn’t imagine facing a new life on an alien planet while sick.

“I’m glad you’re better,” Firion said softly, his concerned gaze sliding down my frame. His eyes held a hint of warmth, though I didn’t know why.

Feeling irritated, I struggled to sit up. I wasn’t mad at him, just the situation. And I was terrified about what might be happening to my sister.

He rushed forward and helped me, easing me back against the cold stone wall and stooping down to study my face. His hand slid across my forehead. Even on an alien planet, the same gesture was used to see if someone felt hot. “You were very sick. What happened to your arm?”

“The lizards cut it when they captured me. I was in a spaceship . . .” I struggled to remember, but everything before waking up was dreamy. “It was small. It crashed in a desert and the top came off. I fell over the side and the lizards raced toward me. I struggled.” My growl rang out. “I tried to get away, but they were too fast and too . . . determined.” Maybe I hadn’t been determined enough. If I could’ve gotten ahead of them, I might’ve been able to find a place to hide. Then, once they gave up, I could’ve looked for Maggie. “My sister was with me.”

“Inside your small ship?”

“No, I meant she was captured on Earth when I was. I saw her on the bigger ship before mechanical arms placed me in the small one and shot me toward this planet. She’s here somewhere. I’ve got to find her.”

He nodded. “Another woman. Do you believe she’s in the desert as well?”

“We were taken together.” I frowned. “You seem to understand a lot of what I’m saying, and I don’t only mean language. I doubt you speak English. Although, I don’t understand the lizards. I heard you talking with the one across the hall earlier, but while I could understand you, his words were just grunts to my ears. Do you speak their language?”

He shook his head and fingered a small crystal he wore on a strip of what looked like leather around his neck. “This is a translator. If—no, when—we get out of here, I’ll make sure you have one too.”

“If we get out of here, I don’t care if I ever see another lizard again, let alone talk with one.”

“As for us understanding each other, that’s a gift from the gods.”

“Gods, huh?” Our parents had raised us in the church, and while Maggie and I had slid off after they died, not attending often, our belief system remained strong. But to hear of multiple gods on a distant planet . . . I wasn’t sure what to think about that.

“There are many of them. They crashed on our planet ages ago and remained.”

“Another alien species, then.”

“Perhaps. We worship them as gods because that’s what they are.”

“Everyone needs something to believe in.”

“I suppose.”

“It’s not like they’re tangible or anything,” I said. But, wait. “You said they crashed here and remained, which means they must be tangible. Our god isn’t.”

“They take care of us.”

“So people say on my planet, too. But they were noticeably lacking when my parents were killed and this . . .” My eyes burned with tears I refused to shed. There’d be plenty of time to cry once I got out of here and found my sister.

“Our gods work in different ways. ”

“I’m sure they do.” I tried to keep my voice neutral. Who was I to attack his belief system?

“I’ll ask the stone gods to give me weapons,” he said softly. “That will show you.”

“Good luck with that.” I wasn’t mocking him, but weapons were a big ask for a god— gods , that is.

He grabbed a tray off the only table in the room, a rickety thing with only three legs, and placed it on my lap. “You should eat. Drink.”

I wasn’t picky about food. Maggie and I had to cook for ourselves after our parents died, and it was touch and go there for a bit. We ate a lot of ramen noodles and boxed mac ‘n cheese. The rare apple. Mom had been a fantastic cook, and she’d ruled the kitchen. We hadn’t grown up preparing our own meals, so there was a learning curve. We both got better. Within a year, we could make real mac ‘n cheese and even soups and a few desserts. The internet was an amazing thing.

“What is it?” I asked, grimacing at the meal. Although, he’d called this a cell, which implied prison. And I doubted a mining operation offered fine dining to their workers.

“I’m not sure. Some sort of meat. Vegetables. Bread. Eat it all. You need to regain your strength.”

He was right about that. It was all I could do to hold myself upright. I wanted to curl up on this uncomfortable bed and sleep for the next three weeks. I suspected that wasn’t going to be part of my future. And I also questioned where he’d sleep since there was only one bunk in the room. Maybe we’d take turns like the lizard guys across the hall.

“How long was I sick?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. They brought you here yesterday, and you were delirious.”

“Days then. That’s the only impression I got from the span of time when I started to lose consciousness.” I lifted a hunk of what I hoped was a piece of bread off the plate and bit into it.

It tasted like rancid meat. With a wince, I returned it to the plate and tried something else that wasn’t much better. But by better, I meant it didn’t taste like it had gone bad yet.

Incredibly thirsty, I drank most of the water that was surprisingly good. No weird aftertaste. No chlorine, either, which could be a bad thing. Would I get sick from the food or water? It wasn’t like I had much choice. Drink and eat or die.

Chewing, I looked up at him. “You should eat too.”

“Oh, I will.” He flashed me a smile.

Cute. Tusks the size of my thumbs jutted up from his lower jawline. They made him look fearsome, though I wasn’t afraid of him. If he’d planned to hurt me, he would’ve done it when I was half out of it and couldn’t fight him off.

A glance around the room showed me there was no second tray of food for him.

I stopped chewing, gaping down at what I’d eaten, which was more than half of what I’d found on the plate. I’d drained all the water .

“Where’s your meal?” I asked in a tiny voice.

“Don’t worry about me.”

That’s when I realized how truly tenuous our situation must be.