Kudzu

By C Amon Trant

Dr. JJ Bookman is an exobiologist, on his way to Tallahassee to plan future research, but everything is down. No electricity or cell service. He finds a hotel that takes cash, and he waits for the gas stations to get power. He sees the Humvee enter the hotel lot and stop behind a car. The Sergeant, in full battle gear and grenades, checks the first tag. With a shake of his head, the Private pulls to the next car, the next, and then JJ's. 

JJ rolls up his window. 

The Marine Sergeant checks JJ's tag and looks at his clipboard again. The Marines exit their vehicle, rifles ready, and the Sergeant nearly breaks JJ's window with the butt of his rifle. 

"Get out!'

JJ didn't move fast enough, and the Marine hit the glass again. JJ opens the door, they drag him out, zip-tie his hands, and throw him into the Humvee. 

They take him to a secret facility in one of Florida's many limestone caverns because something found the secret base and knocked on the door. And no, JJ does not speak 'alien.'

• Language: English
• Publisher: C Amon Trant
• Release date: Feb 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224863938

C Amon Trant

C. Amon Trant is a retired physician, son, brother, husband, and -as his granddaughter so eloquently puts it- "GaGa." 

Book preview

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

––––––––

Cover design by C. Amon Trant

No legacy is so rich

as honesty.

William Shakespeare

Act 3, scene 5

All’s Well that Ends Well

Kudzu

Other books by C. Amon Trant

The Messenger Series:

Prime

Pentagonal Rooms

Emissary

The Eye

Western Kingdom

Visio

Mount Crith

Pestilence

A pearl

The balancing stone

Beauly

Circles

Choices

Part 1

1

No electricity or cell service.

My hotel room was an oven.

I sat in my car with all the windows down, at least until the mosquitoes drove me inside.

The last rays of sunset washed across the parking lot from the blue and orange sky.

The radio produced a hiss from the FM band and static on the AM side.

I pulled out the slice of yesterday’s pizza and took a cautious sniff. Seemed okay.

Rechecked my cell. One bar, then nothing.

I tried Linda anyway.

Didn’t ring.

Dialed Mrs. Smith.

Nothing.

I pulled up some photos of Katie from Sylvan Beach Park last month.

She’s growing up so fast.

I should be home. Steve even offered a virtual tour, but...

With a shake to clear my head, I tried Lin again.

Nothing.

I thought about that Buddhist book in the trunk-

Something thumped to my right.

A military Humvee.

They stopped behind the first parked car.

A US Marine -in full battle gear- looked at the plate and checked his clipboard. With a shake of his head, he waved the driver forward.

The Marines stopped behind the next car and checked something.

And the next.

Then mine.

I rolled up my windows.

The Sergeant looked at my tag, the clipboard, and back to my tag.

He said something to the other Marines.

All eyes turned toward me.

My mouth went dry.

All three exited their vehicle, rifles ready.

Sweat slicked my palms.

One Marine, a Private First Class, stood behind my car, his head on a swivel.

The Corporal was at my passenger door, and the Sergeant loomed large outside my window.

Ge’ out!

What?

The Sergeant almost broke my window with the butt of his weapon, then directed the barrel almost on me. Out of the car!

Keeping my hands visible, I unlocked the door.

He snatched open the door and grabbed my bad arm.

Ow-ow-ow. Easy.

The Private grabbed me, and they slammed me against the fender. They nearly dislocated my shoulder as they secured my wrists with zip ties.

After removing everything from my pockets, they stuffed me in their vehicle.

What’s going-

Shut it!

––––––––

2

They drove me west on I-10 for nearly an hour, then turned south.

Darkness in every business, intersection, and neighborhood; I hadn’t seen a blackout like this since Hurricane Harvey.

I tried to shift in my seat, but every movement dug the zip-ties deeper into my wrists.

Two hours into this tour of rural northwest Florida, the Corporal directed the Humvee into a wooded area.

Had to be near Eglin by now.

We bounced down dirt roads for another thirty minutes until the road was barely a path.

The driver stopped by a cluster of tall pines growing on white, sandy soil.

The Sergeant opened my door, and the other Marine shoved my bad shoulder.

Ow. Easy.

Shut up.

The Sergeant grabbed my shirt collar.

I’m not resisting.

He yanked and nearly threw me to the ground.

The Sergeant pointed toward a stand of pines.

Someone shoved me from behind.

My foot caught a root, and I landed on my face.

Blood in my mouth.

The PFC said, Get up, asshole!

Quit shoving!

His rifle barrel hovered inches from my face, and he put his finger on the trigger.

Stand down, said the Sergeant.

The nervous Marine stepped back and redirected his automatic weapon. The other Marines yanked me up and hauled me toward the trees.

Dry pine needles swished under our feet.

Where are they taking me?

Then I saw the building, painted like pine trees and white sand.

The Sergeant activated a hidden mechanism; part of the wall was a door that moved back slightly and slid into a pocket.

They shoved me into the darkness, and the door closed behind us.

Darkness.

Silence except for breathing.

A door hissed open, revealing a tiny room.

The Marines moved forward like a bulldozer, and the doors clunked behind us.

Hot and humid in the tiny box.

We all needed a shower.

I gasped as we fell.

The Marines laughed.

Oh. It’s just an elevator.

About 30 seconds later, my ears popped.

Twice.

The opening doors revealed a silent, gray hallway.

They shoved me out and pulled me to the right, past intersections of deserted, gray hallways scented by industrial-grade air fresheners.

Turn after turn.

The only sounds were clunking boots, swishing uniforms, and the occasional metallic clink of their grenades.

We had to be in one of the thousands of limestone caverns that dot the panhandle, but it wasn’t a tourist attraction.

Several turns later, they pushed me into a room, my hands still tied, and they bolted the door from the outside.

I almost shouted something vile through the small window, but the sergeant’s eyes kept me quiet.

What the hell is going on?

––––––––

3

An hour later, the door opened too quickly not to be a threat.

This Marine -with eagles on his collar- reeked of cigarettes and looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

The stitching on his uniform said, ‘Osolind.’

The Colonel opened a red folder and, with a gravel voice, said, Bookman?

I stood there.

Dr. James Jackson Bookman? His accent suggested southern Alabama, maybe northwest Florida.

Uh. Yeah.

Sit.

My legs obeyed.

You worked at Rice University?

Worked? I’m an associate professor of-

Why aren’t you there now?

Technically, I was going to Tallahassee to plan our satellite time.

Truthfully, Linda and I needed a break.

No, I needed a break.

Linda’s law practice demands long hours. I get it. She’s gone before 6:30 a.m. and home after 8 p.m. She frequently works on Saturday, assuming she and Paul, her associate, are not on the other side of the state for a deposition.

Sunday became her only day to run errands after church. She said, ‘You don’t mind, do you, JJ?’

I didn’t.

She started meeting her mother, sister, or friend for Sunday lunch. ‘You don’t mind, do you, JJ?’

I didn’t.

Her friend Tina needed a shoulder to cry on. Carol and Joanne wanted to try that new Italian place. ‘You don’t mind, do you, JJ?’

I’m glad Lin has so many great friends. But dinner with friends every other month became once a month, then once a week, then...

And she stopped asking if I minded.

I decided to do something special, partly because of her hard work (she wants a criminal court judgeship) and to have her undivided attention. I fixed her favorites: my Beef Wellington paired with that Pinot Noir from the Cote d'Or region.

I got Katie to bed, set the table, lit the candles, and aerated the wine. The Wellington will come out in five minutes...

I heard the shower, but Lin never showers at night – unless...

I found her slipping on her little black dress.

‘You’re going out?’

‘The O’Reilly’s invited us to the club.’

‘Us?’

‘Former judicial clerks and their law partners.’

‘So... you and Paul.’

‘He’s my law partner.’

‘Lin, this is the third night this week.’

‘Is it?’

She finished her eyeshadow and started outlining her lips.

‘I cooked all afternoon.’

‘You should have called me.’

‘I need to ask for a date?’

She laughed.

I was not joking.

She finished her lips, put the finishing touches on her hair, and said, ‘We’ll eat it tomorrow.’

Except she knows reheating Wellington is tricky.

A thought crossed her eyes. She said, ‘No... Paul scheduled a meeting after court tomorrow. I may not be home until late.’

‘I already opened the wine.’

‘Put it in the fridge.’

Except she’s very picky about ‘old’ red wine.

She slipped on her Louboutin heels and was gone.

But that’s not why I traveled to Tallahassee. The surprise birthday party... She demanded I explain my behavior.

My behavior?

After her mother yelled at me, I called Steve and scheduled this trip for the following weekend.

Somewhere east of Pensacola, the power went out. The gas gauge dipped below a quarter tank near Bonifay, and I was not about to get stranded in that lonely part of I-10.

I couldn’t pump gas or use my card without power, and none of the hotels took cash.

Back on I-10, I drove 45 mph to Chipley, found an old hotel that took cash, and then the Marines arrested me.

The Colonel said, Bookman! Why aren’t you Houston?

I shrugged. It’s spring break.

Teeth clenched, he said, Try again.

I exercised my right to remain silent.

Osolind pulled a sheet of paper. You were on your way to see Dr. Steven Rose at FSU. You and he need to plan time on...

He searched for something else. TESS. The Transiting Exoplanet Survey Satellite.

I nodded.

You - are an exobiologist.

I nodded.

He produced wire cutters and freed my wrists.

Why did you arrest me?

We didn’t.

Rubbing my raw skin, I said, They pointed guns at my face.

The Colonel opened the door.

They kidnapped me.

He started up the hall.

What the hell is going on?

Osolind pointed to his right and said, Exactly.

I was about to grab Osolind when that same Marine Sergeant stepped in the way. The stitching on his shirt said ‘Miyata.’

This way, Osolind said, and about 50 yards up the hall, the Colonel used his palm print to open an unmarked door.’

Darkened room.

Uniformed personnel, their faces lit by computer screens.

All snapped to attention.

As you were.

The far wall was glass, and beyond was a brightly lit room like an interrogation room.

But instead of a table and chairs like those cop shows, the room had nothing but a cage containing a stupid movie prop–

Shit, came out of my mouth before my conscious mind knew why.

I pointed toward the cage. Did that... move?

My brain refused to believe what my eyes recorded.

It looked like a squid, except it breathed air, was seven feet tall, and wore a multi-colored sack on its bullet-shaped body. It stood on two long tentacles, and eight smaller tentacles hung motionless like gray, fleshy dreadlocks.

Col. Osolind nodded, and Sergeant Miyata opened the door.

I shifted my gaze between the Colonel and the... creature?

Osolind said, Go.

What?

He pointed at the thing. In there.

Were they insane?

Now.

I shook my head. No.

It’s in a cage, said Osolind.

I wasn’t about to move.

Miyata grabbed at me, but the Colonel froze him with a slight head shake.

I’m not going in there.

You’re an exobiologist, said Osolind.

I almost shouted, ‘So what?’ Instead, I pointed and said, Da’ Hell is that?

Exactly, Osolind said.

You... You think that’s an alien?

I don’t know, he pointed at the ceiling. It knocked on my door.

Osolind and I stared at each other.

Bookman. Go.

No.

Get in there. His tone hit like a slap.

Why?

I need answers.

I don’t speak... I shook my head, alien.

Osolind’s eyes narrowed. His hand found the butt of his sidearm.

Sir, Miyata said, step inside.

He leveled his M4 but not directly at me.

His finger on the trigger, he clicked off the safety and said, Please.

All eyes focused on me.

Each hand on their sidearms.

I inched toward the door, my eyes locked on the muzzle of Miyata’s weapon until unblinking eyes commanded my attention.

I felt like a crab in its last moment.

There was a whiff of the ocean.

I might have imagined that.

Like a cuttlefish, it had chromatophores between the eyes and mouth. For some reason, my brain called up that lecture from invertebrate bio: Each chromatophore unit was probably composed of a single chromatophore cell, and by distorting the sack of pigment in the chromatophore cell, the individual blue/black spots created the illusion of complex, hypnotizing patterns...

I shook my head. Focus.

I raised my hands to the side, palms forward. Uh... Hello?

The pattern changed.

Was that a greeting?

A warning?

My heart pounded in my ears.

Sweat dripped down my back.

Seconds ticked by.

The squid shifted weight from one walking tentacle to the other

My brain stem screamed RUN!

Miyata’s M4 compelled me to stay.

What the Hell do they expect me to-

Wait.

If I were on another planet, and they didn’t know Humans existed, I would not expect them to speak...

I looked at the creature. Can you take one step to your left?

It stepped left.

Holy shit, whispered Miyata.

The chromatophore pattern changed. The eight mouth tentacles moved individually.

Almost like it was...

I said, Can I borrow a laptop?

The chromatophore pattern waved front to back.

An Ensign named Rojel appeared at the door, locked eyes with the creature, and handed me her computer.

I opened a word processing program with a read-aloud function and slipped the computer to the table inside the bars.

I quickly stepped back.

With the grace of a ballerina, it walked on the longer tentacles. The creature leaned closer, and the shorter facial tentacles flew across the keys.

The computer voice said, Thank you, man of books.

What? Oh. My name is Bookman.

Thank you, Book man.

I said, Do... uh... Do you have a name?

The chromatophores created a slow wave, two circles, and three fast waves. Four mouth tentacles on the right side moved in rhythm, and I heard a breathy sound.

I glanced toward the glass and shrugged.

I said, What should we call... Uh... You?

It didn’t move for a second.

I was about to repeat when it typed, Human is the correct translation, but please call me Pilgrim.

Are you, said the Colonel from the booth, part of the invasion?

The chromatophores froze for a second.

Pilgrim typed, Invasion. An act of aggression. It stopped. No invasion. Kudzu are not our enemy.

Kudzu? I asked.

The chromatophores transitioned to a starburst pattern and then complex. It typed, Kudzu is our name for you.

I said, But- I

Kudzu is a plant, Osolind said over the speaker.

Pilgrim typed, Phylum Spermatophyta, Class Dicotyledonae. Order Fabales. Family Fabaceae. Pueraria lobata.

That sounded right, but...

Osolind said, We’re not plants.

The chromatophores made a starburst again. It typed, You are Kingdom Animalia. Phylum Chordata, Class Mammalia. Order Primate. Family Hominidae-

The door flew open.

Osolind and two Marines burst in like SWAT.

I stepped out of the way.

Osolind said, Why are you here?

It typed, This is home.

Osolind’s gaze darted to Miyata, then back to Pilgrim. What?

It means the land of our ancestors.

I know what- Osolind clenched his jaw, eyes locked on Pilgrim. Where is your home?

Here.

In − Florida?

We don’t call it that, but yes.

You returned home? I said.

Returned. Yes.

Inching closer, Osolind said, Where did you go?

The topmost mouth tentacle pointed at the ceiling.

Osolind didn’t understand.

I said, Off-world?

The chromatophores moved front to back. I typed, Yes.

You lived here? Osolind said.

I was born near this spot about 80 cycles ago, but you called it Pangaea.

What? Osolind said.

That geology course sophomore year: all the continents were once one continent called Pangea. I said, Pangea broke apart in the... um.

You call it the Permian era.

That’s right. I looked at Osolind. Which ended like... 250 million years ago.

The squid typed, Yes.

Osolind shook his head. Ridiculous.

Unless...

Our ship, Pilgrim said, traveled close to the speed of light.

How long were you gone? I said.

35.04 solar cycles for us, which was 250 million cycles on Earth.

About a month ago, I spoke to a high school astronomy club. One student asked about the twin paradox: one twin leaves the earth traveling near the speed of light, and the other remains at home. The traveling twin ages slower, and if he traveled fast enough, six months for him could be ten million years on Earth.

No, Osolind said, there is no evidence of an advanced civilization.

The chromatophores moved front to back. Pilgrim typed, Our planet has changed much.

I said, Why did you leave?

The chromatophores showed slow circles. To survive.

That could be right. I heard myself mumble, The Great Dying.

What? Osolind said.

Over 90% of all species went extinct at the end of-

Osolind said, What - happened?

Before I could say the Siberian Traps: 2 million years of massive volcanic eruptions burying nearly all of Siberia, releasing tons of greenhouse gases per day, Pilgrim typed, Global warming killed millions of species.

No, God damn it. Yesterday!

The chromatophores were complex again. Pilgrim typed, I don’t understand.

Osolind pulled his weapon and aimed between Pilgrim’s unblinking eyes.

Pilgrim typed, Is this Kudzu humor?

Osolind stepped closer.

It typed, Colonel?

Why did you murder millions of my people?

My knees buckled.

Pilgrim typed, No murder.

The Colonel’s face went crimson, his gun hand trembling. What - happened?

Pilgrim’s spots became pinpoints. Skin wrinkled, now looking like a lump of coral. We revere you as you revere the bison.

Answer me.

We protect you as you protect the bison.

Teeth clenched. "What — fucking — happened!"

You are too many, Pilgrim typed. We must cull the herd.

––––––––

4

My ears rang.

The hot brass hit my neck and skittered across the floor.

I flashed back to that night. Jessie screaming. The gunshots.

Something cold hit my face, and I staggered back.

Pilgrim hit the wall with a wet slap. The mouth tentacles flailed.

Blue fluid pumped out from between the eyes.

A black fluid arced from under the mouth.

Pilgrim slid down.

Everything quivered.

Then limp.

Miyata said something.

I could not rip my eyes from the body.

Miyata pressed something against my chest.

A cloth.

He said, Protect your eyes.

I wiped blue and black from my face.

Osolind lit a cigarette and said to Rojel, Take it to the morgue. I want a full report in thirty minutes.

What about him? Miyata said.

Osolind glanced at me and shook his head. Confine him.

I almost said something, but Osolind’s smoking barrel shut my mouth.

Miyata put me in a room with a cot, toilet, and shower.

He said, You hungry?

The words didn’t register for a full second. Uh... No.

He turned to leave.

I said, Wait.

Miyata’s eyes narrowed, and a snarl curled his lip. He took a step at me but stopped.

Miyata said, After the Colonel calms down, I’ll ask him to let you out. Just keep your head down.

He turned toward the door and muttered under his breath.

I said, The stake that sticks up gets hammered down.

He stared at me. You speak Japanese?

I did a postdoc with the Japanese Space Agency.

Miyata’s gaze cast around the room. I’ll... I’ll be back as soon as possible.

Miyata scratched the drying fluids on his face. I was itching, too.

He pointed at the shower. I’ll bring you some clean clothes.

He left and locked me in.

I peeled off my clothes and washed as much as possible without soap.

Osolind’s words rang in my head.

Millions dead?

I had to call Lin and Mrs. Smith.

***

Miyata unlocked the door and tossed me some blue coveralls. Ensign Rojel stood in the hall, hair still wet, also wearing blue coveralls.

After I slipped on the garment, Miyata said, Move out.

Where?

Autopsy.

Why?

Miyata clenched his teeth.

I have rights.

I need your help, said someone from the hall.

I turned toward the voice: a tall man wearing scrubs.

I said, Who are you?

Dr. Katan.

His face suggested Pakistan, but his accent came from the Upper East Side, Manhattan. And he wore a medical corps insignia.

He said, You have a degree in exobiology, right?

Yes. So?

You took biology.

You’re a physician?

He said, Yeah, but this is way outside my training.

Mine, too.

This way, sir, Miyata said, his finger too near the trigger of his M4.

––––––––

5

They led me to an elevator.

Dr. Katan activated a palm reader, and the doors hissed open.

We ascended two floors.

They led me down gray halls, through a gray door, into another gray room with three stainless steel autopsy tables, two steel sinks, and a wall of people-sized drawers.

Pilgrim was on the middle table.

The smell of low tide burned my nose.

Dr. Katan pulled two purple gloves from a box and tossed me the box. I started the dissection between the eyes.

Slipping on the gloves, I leaned closer to the incision. Three hearts?

He seemed impressed. So that’s normal.

I don’t know, but squids have a small heart for each gill and one central heart for everything else.

Katan pointed to the midline and lateral hearts.

I pointed at the blue liquid. Hemocyanin?

Is that copper based?

Could be.

It isn’t hemoglobin, and the copper level is too high to measure with my machines. What’s the black stuff?

I shrugged. Squid ink?

He regarded the body. Maybe. He pointed to a grapefruit-sized mass of tissue around the food pipe. Ideas?

Brains or neural nodes? I said. Squids have a three, and octopi have nine.

Katan indicated one of the eight smaller masses associated with mouth and walking tentacles.

Are Ammonites squids, octopi, or something in between?

Rojel looked closer, too.

I wondered if the squids had parallel processing power.

Katan said, Looks like a trachea. Starts here and, he pointed posteriorly, splits here.

Pointing at the lungs, he said, The airway enters the lung here. Lifting the lung, he revealed another trachea coming out of the bottom of the lung. Then out to the nozzle.

Siphon, I mumbled.

Katan shook his head. So weird. The air travels one way through the lungs. Much more efficient than anything I’ve ever seen.

I said, Birds have something similar.

This isn’t a bird.

Yeah. I shrugged and mumbled, Parallel evolution.

Pardon? said Katan.

I enunciated more clearly, Parallel evolution.

Face blank, he said, What?

Seriously? Two groups evolve similar-looking structures, like, I pointed at Pilgrim’s eye and said, cephalopod and mammal eyes. Similar Pax6 gene but different embryology.

Katan shook his head. No.

But... that’s the published data.

Katan said, We all know Allah’s handiwork when we see it.

Ah.

I wasn’t interested in a debate, so I pointed to something behind the lungs and said, Gonads?

Ovaries, I think. Katan tapped something hard inside the back wall. What’s that?

Sounded like bone.

And it’s articulated, said Katan.

I couldn’t remember anything like... Wait a second. It might be a gladius.

What? said Miyata, his finger on the trigger.

Easy, I said. Not a Roman sword. Some mollusks have an internal shell that’s shaped like a blade.

Shell? Katan said. Like a seashell?

It’s, I shrugged, a mollusk.

But it’s articulated, said Katan. Like a spine. Isn’t Allah amazing?

I pointed toward the back wall. Squids have two giant axons. Huge nerves inside the dorsal wall.

Katan nodded and pointed, Here and over here.

A klaxon roared to life.

Miyata picked up the phone.

I could see him nodding.

He came over and shouted, We’re crashed!

What?

Katan and Rojel moved to the door.

I said, We’re a hundred feet underground, but no one heard me.

WE ARE A HUNDRED-

The alarm stopped.

I said, Sorry. We’re deep underground.

Stern-faced, Miyata said, Not deep enough.

Miyata led us down the stairs to the lowest level. About fifty people congregated near a heavy metal door.

Osolind activated the palm and retinal scanners.

Metal hinges groaned, and the door moved.

What’s going on? I asked.

Everyone ignored me.

Louder, I said, What’s-

Osolind cut his eyes at me, and Miyata was in my face, teeth clenched, and hissed, Shut it!

I almost said, Back off, but everyone was on edge, and unlike me, they were all armed and trained warriors.

An Army Sergeant with ‘JAMES’ stitched on his uniform handed out room numbers and directed the staff left and right.

The sergeant looked me up and down. What are you supposed to be?

I opened my mouth, but Miyata said, Bunk him with me.

Sgt. James looked at Sgt. Miyata with raised eyebrows.

Miyata shrugged. Charlie Foxtrot.

Copy that, James said with a knowing nod.

Miyata looked at the slip of paper. He said, A7, and started walking.

After two turns, I said, I need to call my wife.

Me, too.

The door to A7 was solid steel and slid into a pocket. The tiny room had metal bunk beds, a toilet, and one bare light bulb inside a metal cage.

Miyata took the bottom bunk.

Cozy, I said.

Stop commenting on everything.

My mother-in-law says, Stop babbling.

I said, Am I your prisoner?

No.

Am I a Marine?

He scoffed.

Then I am not in your chain of command, Sergeant.

His eyes narrowed.

If you want me to do something, ask me.

He stood up and moved within inches.

I somehow didn’t back down. What’s the penalty for assaulting an unarmed civilian, Marine?

He held my gaze for a second, then sat down.

After several minutes of silence, I said, Did Pilgrim hit Washington?

He shrugged. Ensign Rojel tried to make contact, even with a shortwave radio.

I pointed upward. If the squids attack the upper levels, how will we know?

He shrugged.

I looked around our room. Who is Charlie Foxtrot?

Miyata laughed.

What?

Charlie Foxtrot is the radio code for C and F. You’re here because of an epic cluster fuck.

And I could not agree more.

I scanned our room again. Is this the base’s fallout shelter?

He ignored me.

I shook my head. This entire base is a fallout shelter. We’re -what- two hundred meters below ground?

No response.

I glanced at the caged light bulb. This is the brig.

Give the man a prize.

Probably the easiest to defend. I wonder what changed.

What?

I pointed upward. The Colonel believed we were safe up there.

Something thumped, more felt than heard.

Miyata grabbed his rifle and looked up and down the corridor. Stay here.

He hesitated. Pulled his pistol. You know how to use this?

My stomach tightened as I nodded. My late father-in-law had two favorite places: his all-white church and equally vanilla gun club.

William was at the range every Saturday and church every Sunday, where ridiculing blacks, Jews, and Democrats outpaced shooting or praying.

Linda convinced Daddy to take me to the range for ‘male bonding’ time. Her words, not ours.

I don’t hate guns, and I’m not a bad shot, but I should have seen it coming. William met his buddies, which included Linda’s friend Paul, who showed off his new toy: a feather-light .357 magnum that easily disappeared in his pocket. He asked if I wanted to shoot it.

Not really. Such a light weapon, loaded with .357 magnums, would hurt.

He told me not to worry: He loaded it with subsonic 38 specials. Lighter recoil than a .22 short, he said, and I didn’t need hearing protection.

Except he loaded extra hot magnums - just for me.

I fired one round and nearly dropped the damn thing.

Paul and William then said in unison, ‘What’s wrong, Sally?’ and everyone laughed even harder.

I looked at Miyata’s pistol, the standard issue M17.

Daddy-in-law had one, too.

With my finger far from the trigger, I directed the muzzle at the floor and pressed the magazine release.

17-round magazine, with sixteen rounds of 9mm. I reinserted the magazine and pulled the slide back enough to see brass in the chamber. I checked the safety and laid the weapon on the bed.

Miyata nodded. Do not shoot me.

About twenty minutes later, muted voices filtered under the door, followed by long silences.

Someone, something, was closer.

I picked up the gun and clicked the safety off.

Do not shoot, Miyata said.

I reset the safety, put the gun on Miyata’s cot, and said, Clear.

Miyata inched his face around the door frame.

I raised my hands and pointed at the gun on the bed.

Miyata re-holstered his M9, then checked the door. Any way to barricade this?

Not from the inside.

He pulled it closed. Squids on the first level.

Was that an explosion?

The Colonel is trying to slow them down.

How do we get out?

They’re working on that.

A gunshot.

Buzzing.

Part 2

1

Cold.

On the floor.

Shivering.

Stiff.

Naked?

Something clicked to my right, like a computer keyboard.

I blinked.

Pilgrim stood outside a transparent wall.

No.

Pilgrim is dead.

This squid seemed shorter, and instead of the colorful flowing sack, it wore a close-fitting brown cloth decorated with a silver pentagon above the left eye.

The chromatophores were brown instead of Pilgrim’s blue-black. And if Pilgrim’s long, delicate facial tentacles were like a pianist’s fingers, these were thumbs.

I took a quick look around.

Oval enclosure, about 30m wide, with a transparent front wall from floor to ceiling.

The computer voice said, Are you Bookman?

Where are my clothes?

Are you Bookman?

Yes. Where are my clothes?

You were in the room when the US government murdered our holy one.

That wasn’t a question.

We found her sacred fluids in your monkey hair. Say she attacked you.

Pardon?

Why did you murder her?

I didn’t.

You have gunpowder residue on your hands.

I almost said no, but I’d handled Miyata’s pistol. I haven’t fired a gun in months.

What am I doing?

Shut—the Hell—up.

You were with the murderers. I can charge you as an accessory and accomplice to murder and desecration.

Don’t react.

Say she attacked you.

Why?

You are not deaf. Say she attacked you.

And then what?

We release you.

Just like that?

Yes.

Liar. What if I don’t know what happened?

You were less than two meters from her when the Kudzu government cut her down.

I could not see everything at once.

Why did you desecrate the holy vessel?

I didn’t.

It turned its left eye on me. You scattered her remains around that room.

Scattered? My thinking was weirdly slow. Probably from whatever they used to stun me.

We found her in specimen jars. Were you going to eat her?

Jars? Oh, autopsy specimens. I said quickly, It was a medical examination.

Medical? She was alive when you sliced her to pieces?

I heard the words, but my brain needed seconds to understand. No. She was dead.

Then stop lying.

I’m not.

You perform medical procedures on the dead?

Before I could respond, it typed, Or was she calamari?

We... No. We didn’t eat...

Why was our holy one in pieces?

It... was a forensic examination.

To determine the cause of death?

My pulse pounded in my ears. Yes. Cause of death. That’s right.

The unblinking left eye gave me the creeps.

It typed, Did you notice her holy fluids splattered all over you?

I nodded.

Did you hear the loud noise before her fluids splattered all over you? Did you miss the large bullet hole?

Yes... I mean...

Stop. She died because Osolind murdered her.

No more talking.

Speak.

I didn’t move.

Say she attacked you.

This is nuts.

It said, Are you mentally deficient?

I did not see her attack anyone.

It started packing up.

I was shivering, and my teeth chattered. Where are my clothes?

With the rest of the evidence.

***

About an hour later, a small panel opened in the back wall.

The rush of warm air was delicious but ended too quickly.

The same electronic voice said, Exit.

I found a tunnel, about 20 feet long, slightly wider than a ventilation shaft.

Through there?

The lights blinked off and on. Do not make us come in there.

I bent down and had to lie on my belly.

The metal was frigid.

I tried to put my left arm above my head, but a stabbing pain stopped me.

Inched toward the other end, I used both legs and my good arm to keep my privates off the metal floor.

I crawled out and heard a female gasp.

Ensign Rojel was naked and shivering.

This enclosure seemed colder.

I stood up and faced away. You hurt?

No.

Any idea what is happening?

No.

I said, They interview you?

Yeah.

I looked over my shoulder. They offer anything?

She glanced back. They’ll let me go if I blame the Colonel.

Interesting. They want me to blame Pilgrim.

Why?

No idea. Can I look around this space?

She kept her back to me and moved to the far side.

This room was the same oval shape. About 40 feet long and 20 feet deep in the middle, with the same transparent front wall.

Toilet and sink against the back wall. No privacy. One queen-sized mat on the floor but no sheet or blanket.

I said, Were you naked during the interview?

Yeah.

You ask about your clothes?

They said evidence. You think we’re lab rats?

I shrugged and looked at the curved glass wall. Or zoo animals.

She inhaled sharply and glared at me.

Sorry. I’m wrong.

I hope.

Two enclosures were across a corridor, one directly across and one 50 feet to my left. Each contained a naked couple.

I’m mildly near-sighted. I pointed to my left and said, Is that Miyata?

Yes, with Lt. Yamato, my section leader.

The man in the next enclosure looked like that sergeant who assigned cells in the sub-basement.

Rojel followed my eyes to the other enclosure and said, That’s Sgt. Malik James, security. Her name is Shanice - something. She’s a civilian contractor in IT.

Were they... involved with each other?

Not that I know of.

I said, What are the squids doing?

Looks like they want breeding pairs.

I looked at her. I have a wife.

She said, So do I.

I tried to fight it for a full second, but the smile started. Breeding pair.

She snickered.

An electronic voice said, The multitudes rejoice in your happiness.

Shit.

––––––––

2

Hours later, we heard a muffled scraping noise behind the back wall, like metal on metal.

Another scraping noise, only closer and louder.

A panel opened, revealing two bowls of a steaming liquid; each bowl had chunks of something white and bits of green. Smelled like fresh fish. Needed salt.

It wasn’t bad, and it was warm.

As we ate, the panel opened again.

Rojel looked in and pulled out one blanket.

That’s it?

She wrapped herself in warmth.

An hour later, the whole section went dim, like dusk.

Not too subtle, are they?

I looked at the blanket and sighed. We need to share the blanket.

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the blanket. No.

We both need sleep.

I’m not sleeping with you.

I’m not sleeping with you, either. We share, or we fight. You are younger and trained, but I’m bigger. We could seriously injure each other, and they could punish us.

She shook her head.

We face away from each other.

She pulled the blanket tighter.

Please?

After several seconds of silence, she said, If you try anything—

I won’t. Can I say something else?

What!

You ever been with a guy? I mean... you know...

Not since high school.

I said, I sometimes roll over in my sleep.

So?

You may find me facing you.

So?

"Men get erections while dreaming. I can’t control it. Please don’t kick me in the nuts.

She wouldn’t look at me.

If I need to move, say move. Please?

She shook her head, glanced at me, and then reluctantly nodded.

I said, Since we’re sharing, I don’t always filter well, especially when stressed.

Like now?

Yeah. I also get ahead of myself.

What?

Exactly. My brain might move to the next topic before I finish the sentence, and I don’t always hear the stupid thing I just said. My wife used to get mad. Now she says, Try again.

She nodded. I need my antidepressants. If I disappear under that blanket, leave me alone. If I want something, I’ll ask.

Understood.

And I’ll be starting my period any day now.

Sorry about that.

I laid down on the mat and faced away.

She spread the blanket over both of us.

About a minute later, she whispered, They might not hear us under here, but they might read lips.

Good point.

If you see weaknesses, say nothing out there.

***

Rojel said ‘move’ once the first night and twice the following night.

We talked little, and neither of us saw a weakness.

They provided cold, leafy stuff in the morning and a warm, fishy stew in the evening. We were constantly hungry, but the sink had tepid water whenever we wanted.

On day four, Larisa stayed under the blanket but didn’t let them see her cry.

On day six, assuming a 24-hour cycle, five squids strolled down the hallway:

The two in the front were shorter (only seven feet tall), with brown chromatophores and identical brown garments. One had a gold hexagon above the left eye, and the other wore something resembling body armor and a silver triangle above the left eye.

Next were two taller squids, like Pilgrim, with colorful coverings, and at least ten feet behind, walked a medium-sized squid dressed in the equivalent of a frayed burlap sack.

I heard muffled thumps.

Lt. Yamato shouted at the squids and beat the glass.

I pointed. What’s she doing?

Rojel shook her head.

The taller and medium squids moved away from the glass. Their chromatophores were small and quiet.

The squid with the golden hexagon stepped closer to the transparent wall. Its chromatophores moved in star-shaped patterns.

I couldn’t hear Yamato’s words, but her rage was palpable.

Miyata tried to calm her down.

She swung at him, then renewed her attack with nails, fists, and feet.

Hexagon stepped closer. Then closer.

Fully enraged, Yamato clawed until her fingernails broke. She punched and kicked until her hands and feet bled.

Finally exhausted, she slumped, crying, to the floor.

We felt that low-pitched buzz, like at the base.

Louder...

––––––––

3

I woke up on the floor.

Rojel was prone, several feet away.

She moaned.

I said, You okay?

She sat up, rubbed the side of her head, and looked at her fingertips. I’m not bleeding.

I looked at Miyata’s cell. The blood -and Lt. Yamato- were gone.

The electronic voice said, Have you changed your mind, JJ?

I glanced at Rojel, then up toward the ceiling. We’re friends now?

I am not your enemy.

Then let us go, Rojel said,

Have you changed your mind?

I said, About what?

The electronic voice said, Say Pilgrim attacked you.

And we both go free.

We can discuss many things.

Release us, and we can discuss many things.

Say she attacked you.

She attacked us! Rojel said.

Say the holy one attacked you.

Rojel said, The holy one attacked us.

Moments later, we heard the same scraping noise behind the wall, and the food door opened. Rojel pulled out two orange jumpsuits with ‘DOC’ on the back.

She tossed me the larger of the two.

Both suits were too big, but we weren’t naked.

I looked across. Miyata had a new roommate, and all six of us wore orange.

About an hour later, they delivered our food.

We ate silently. Rojel said, You have children?

I smiled. Katie.

Tell me something cute.

She is getting creative with the bedtime stall tactics. She used to ask for something to eat, but now she knows no food after brushing her teeth. The other night, right before my trip to Florida, she climbed into Linda’s lap and said, I love you, Mommy, and snuggled in to watch TV.

How old?

Three. It’s amazing. I adore my wife, but what I feel for Katie is...

Elemental.

I nodded. How many children do you have?

She got too quiet.

Uh oh. I... I’m sorry.

She needed a moment. Rose was finishing her Master’s, so we decided I would get pregnant.

I said, Linda loved being pregnant, but the last weeks were tough. She kept saying she felt huge.

Rojel nodded. My morning sickness lasted three months. The middle three months were amazing. She smiled. Hector was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

She shook her head and didn’t talk for a moment.

I didn’t know what to say.

She said, "The OB was still sewing me up when the pediatrician needed to talk to me.

Everything happened so fast. I was still in recovery when the helicopter took Hector to the regional children’s hospital. Rose started driving. He needed an emergency cardiac procedure before she got there.

Rojel shook her head, wiped another tear, and shrugged. And he was gone.

A medium-sized squid appeared in the hallway, wearing a burlap sack with a yellow stain at the hem above its right eye.

And unlike Pilgrim’s blue-black chromatophores -and the brown spots on the shorter squids- the medium squids had sky-blue spots.

This squid stopped and stared at the Army Sergeant. It looked at Miyata and then back to our enclosure.

I stepped to the glass. You want something?

The chromatophores waved back to front.

Something happened up the hall.

A shorter squid, with body armor and a small silver square over its left eye, ran at the medium squid.

The shorter squid’s stubby gray tentacles quivered rapidly, and the chromatophores splashed in dizzying patterns.

The medium-sized squid bowed, stepped back, and bowed lower.

Short squid made several lunging motions.

Medium squid kept bowing and stepping back.

Shorty delivered a vicious kick, and the other squid scurried away.

Shorty turned its left eye on me. Its chromatophores were large, dark, and complex.

Was it yelling at us, too?

Eventually, it walked away.

What the hell was that? Rojel said.

About an hour later, the electronic voice said, Attention,

The other two couples looked up, too.

Your Colonel killed our most holy, but we now see how the Kudzu could mistake us for invaders.

Rojel and I shared a glance.

As a show of good faith, we released Col. Osolind and had planned to release you, too.

Had planned?

Something clicked behind me, and a round screen activated.

Did you know it was a TV? she asked.

I shook my head.

The image looked like a satellite photo of the southeastern US. The camera zoomed to northwest Florida, centered on the area near Eglin Air Force Base.

A missile launched and arched out over the Gulf.

The camera zoomed in on the rocket labeled ‘USA.’

One side of the missile glowed.

Brighter.

Smoke.

Detonation.

The picture changed to show debris raining down.

A satellite image showing ten atomic mushrooms sprout between Pensacola and Tallahassee.

The electric voice said, We were talking to your government by radio, and they used our signal to target us with a multi-warhead nuclear weapon. Clearly, they were trying to silence you.

Clearly?

We only meant to disable the missile, but we didn’t fire it. Your leaders should kill themselves in shame.

––––––––

4

After two days of nothing, a group of squids stood before Malik and Shanice’s cell.

I recognized the squid at the rear by the yellow-stained sack.

One of the shorter squids opened the enclosure.

The sergeant put himself between Shanice and the squids.

One squid showed him a screen.

Malik squinted at the squids.

I read his lips. He said, ‘Really?’

Shanice cried, but not from fear.

The squids led them out, and they waved at Rojel.

I was ready to bang against the wall and scream, What about us?

But who said they were safe?

The only entertainment for the next few days was the occasional medium-sized squid cleaning the floors or pushing their carts. They ignored us except for Yellow, who always stopped for a look.

Rojel was doing some stretches, and I kept my back turned to give her something like privacy.

She said, Yellow’s coming.

Yellow pushed a cart with orange cloth and two buckets.

I hoped it would open a door.

I readied myself.

Don’t, Rojel said.

Why not?

It might be strong enough to rip your arms off.

I stepped away from the door.

Yellow disappeared down the hall, and we heard the metal on metal scraping, and seconds later, the food door opened, but there was no food.’

Rojel pulled out clean orange jumpsuits and buckets. She lifted something from one bucket and sniffed. It’s soap.

Even though we were naked for days, I hesitated to strip down.

She said, Why does it feel weird now?

I don’t know. Lady’s first?

Go ahead.

She started filling the buckets.

I started washing, but my lousy shoulder limited my reach. After I grunted the second time, she said, You hurt?

Old shoulder injury.

You have some pimples back there.

I know. I rolled on one last night.

Turn around.

I-

You can wash my back, too.

She stayed dressed in her old jumpsuit.

When it was her turn, I put on my old jumpsuit and washed the middle of her back, keeping the soap between my hand and her skin.

And my eyes from the delicate curve of her butt.

Four squids appeared in the hall and watched us: two small, one tall, and the one we called Yellow.

Enjoying the show? Rojel said.

The smaller squid’s chromatophores were complex. The tall one just watched.

Yellow turned away.

We ignored them.

After using the old jumpsuits as towels and we were dressed, Rojel said, Staring contest?

Works for me.

On three.

We mugged the crowd.

After about ten seconds, she said, No, fair.

What? I intensified my stare at the short one on the left.

No, fair, said Rojel. They can’t blink.

I sputtered.

Larisa laughed, and we moved away from the glass.

The squids finally got bored and moved off. I said, Thanks for the assist with my back.

No problem.

What is your first name?

We’re friends now?

I stuck out my hand. James Jackson Bookman. My friends call me JJ. You call me Dr. Bookman.

She scowled.

Kidding. And you are?

Larisa.

I said, Larisa Rojel. Sounds... Brazilian?

She seemed impressed. Close. My father’s grandparents came from Portugal.

I stretched, and my lousy shoulder caught again. Ow, damn it.

She pointed at my left shoulder and said, What happened?

Are we that bored?

Yes.

I smiled. Senior year in high school. I was the starting goalie on our soccer team. Last game of the regular season, and the winner goes to the regionals.

I had to stop for a second.

You okay? she said.

I lied with a nod, but the memory played like a movie. We were playing at that snotty private school where everything seemed new. Mrs. Smith and her three children were in the bleachers -cheering for me- while the sea of white faces stared at them.

Larisa said, What is it?

I cleared my throat. We were up 2-1, and the final whistle was seconds away. They pulled their goalie to add a forward. They intercepted a pass at midfield, and their three forwards sprinted downfield. Their mid-fielder sent in a perfect pass, and it was just me against three. They tried to fake me out, but I knew their star player wanted the ball. The ball came to him, and he fired a bending shot toward the upper corner. I went up, got two fingers on the ball, and deflected it over the bar.

Nice.

You play soccer?

Defense and midfield.

Nice. We got ready for the corner kick. Their guy bent the ball toward the upper corner. Their star forward jumped up to head the ball in. I went up, I punched it away.

And you won.

Yes, but I didn’t go to regionals. That other player and I collided right after I punched the ball away. I helicoptered into the goalpost and dislocated my shoulder.

Ouch.

I’m lucky it wasn’t my head. I pointed at the shoulder. After the ER doc popped it back, they recommended an ortho consult and probably surgery, but I had no insurance. I’ll probably need a shoulder replacement someday.

Hurt much?

I shrugged. Just every day.

Pop out much?

A few times. I’ve popped it back all but once. I shrugged. On my honeymoon.

Larisa looked at me with a raised brow. Your wife likes it rough.

I smiled. No comment. Tell me something about Ensign Larisa Rojel.

She shrugged.

A memory made me scowl.

What? she said.

It’s... nothing.

You had a gay friend.

I smiled crookedly. Get out of my head.

He thought you were dating.

No... Did he? I... No. We... hung out a lot, but... No. Those were not dates.

For you.

Did I miss that, too? Anyway, in our senior year, he came out to his evangelical family.

And they took it well?

Of course. They shipped him to one of those ‘pray-the-gay away’ camps in South Carolina, and I heard he ran away. I don’t know where he is now.

What bothered you?

What didn’t bother me? He was my best friend. I was...

Confused?

I nodded. How could I miss it?

If he wasn’t ready to come out, there probably wasn’t anything for you to see. She sighed. I kept it hidden until my junior year in college, but I knew something was wrong with me in junior high.

Wrong with you?

I begged God to fix me. I dated several guys and decided to make myself normal.

Fake it till you make it.

She smiled. Something like that. And then I met Rose. I told myself she was a great friend until she kissed me. Instead of getting scared or grossed out, it felt...

Right?

And safe. We dated for several months, then Rose wanted me to meet her parents. They were so amazing. I brought her home, but my parents...

Weren’t ready?

She shook her head. Not for a lesbian daughter or the girlfriend. I introduced Rose as my best friend, which was true.

Rose wasn’t mad?

Larisa smiled slightly. Coming out was hard for her, even with supportive parents. She knew I loved her and gave me all the time I needed. Then Mother caught us kissing, and all hell broke loose. Daddy threw Rose out and called Father Charles. Mother cried. Daddy yelled. Father Charles threw holy water at me and commanded the demon out.

Wow.

When the exorcism didn’t work, my father... she took a deep breath and got a faraway look, my father called me a dyke and threw me out.

I didn’t know what to say.

Silence enveloped us for a moment.

I called Rose to pick me up, and we returned to school. Daddy cut me off, so I finished school on an NROTC scholarship.

You still talk to your parents?

I text Mother, but she won’t see me until I get right with God. She inhaled a slow, deep breath. Let it out. I hadn’t spoken to my father in three years. My transfer to Eglin was sudden, and I called to tell Mom, but he answered the phone. I said, ‘Hey, Daddy,’ and, her voice broke.

She cleared her throat. He hung up on me.

They don’t know you’re here.

She shook her head.

I said, Sorry, only because there were no words.

One of the medium squids pushed a cart down the corridor, but it wasn’t Yellow.

I said, Changing the subject, I think we need better names for our hosts.

Hosts?

I glanced at the ceiling. They are listening.

They don’t like being called squids?

Don’t know. I wouldn’t like being called chimps.

Better than Kudzu.

I shrugged. I’m sure there is a reason.

She gave me a look with raised eyebrows.

Didn’t say I liked it. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There are tall, medium, and short ones. Pilgrim was tall. They called her a holy one, and the tall ones wear colorful coverings.

Almost like vestments?

Exactly. How about priests?

Okay, she said. The short ones are in charge, more aggressive, and some wear body armor. Soldiers? No... How about warriors?

I shrugged. Works for me. The others walk behind, do dirty jobs, and wear cheap-looking sacks.

She said, Servants?

I was thinking ‘slaves,’ but I didn’t know if they were property. I nodded and said, Sounds good. The three types might be different species, but they said multitudes.

A computer voice said, We rejoice in your progress.

Larisa said, We are not animals for your zoo.

Zoo?

We are not - your property, I said.

The voice said, Of course not.

Then send us home.

We are protecting you.

From what?

You saw the destruction. If the radiation didn’t kill you, you’d die of thirst.

Larisa said, How much did you destroy?

We destroyed nothing. The Kudzu attacked us, and your home will not recover for decades.

But the bombs only hit northwest Florida. I said, Did... Did any bombs fall on Texas?

No.

I let out a sigh of relief. Then release us outside the radiation zone, and we will get to our families.

That makes no sense.

I glanced at Larisa. Which part?

You are with family now.

Larisa and I exchanged another look.

No, she said, I just met him.

You two are the same species.

I said, But we are not family.

Silence.

Does everything have to be a lie?

We’re not lying, I said. Why do you think we are family?

Larisa looked at me with raised eyebrows and mouthed, What are you doing?

Yes, Dr. Bookman. What are you doing?

I want to understand.

Another lie.

No. Understanding you could get me home faster.

Another lie.

I shook my head. Why do you think I’m lying?

You say you want to go home. You say you want to understand us. Which is it?

I can do both.

And you can lie. What do you want to know?

I said, Why do you think we are family?

Everyone in my species is my family because we share common traits not found in the other species you call Warriors and Servants. You two share many common traits not found in the other Kudzu. You - are family.

We define family differently, I said.

Larisa pointed at me. He has a spouse and child. I have a spouse. Those are our families.

Your parents and siblings are not your family?

Yes, Larisa said. I have several family members, but he and I are not family.

Even the father who called you a dyke?

Jaw clenched, Larisa said, He is still my father.

A Kudzu family is a spouse and offspring?

I said, Yes... Well, it can be.

No response for a moment.

The voice said, I’m not sure you know what family means.

I said, Pardon?

Many of your families have one parent. Some have biological parents, some have stepparents, and some parents are strangers.

Larisa said, No.

The voice said, Your government steals children and gives them to government employees.

That does not happen.

Not steal, but...

The voice said, Your leaders never remove children?

I said, A judge can remove children in danger.

But we don’t, Larisa said, give children to government employees.

My gut twisted for a second. Well...

Larisa cut her eyes at me.

I think they mean foster parents. They get a monthly stipend for each kid.

Larisa’s scowl softened.

The voice said, Kudzu even let members of one species raise children of another.

Larisa said, No, that’s not right.

Except I can show tens of thousands of examples. Moving on, said the electronic voice. You may ask me a question.

I wanted to understand their idea of ‘species,’ but that wouldn’t get me home. I said, Which multitude are you?

You call us priests.

I meant to ask if they were relatives of mollusks, but I said, You look like squids.

Silence.

The voice said, Are you intentionally insulting me or malignantly ignorant?

No... I... I’m sorry. I meant no offense. Do you prefer another word?

We are Human, created in Her divine image. You might call us Ammonites, though some think Sepeoid is better.

Larisa looked at me.

Ammonites were a group of extinct mollusks.

Not extinct, said the voice.

I nodded. Clearly not. And Sepeoids are cuttlefish-

The area went black for several seconds. The lights came on. Do not make us warn you again.

Larisa looked at me with widened eyes.

I... I said to the ceiling. What did I do wrong?

We-are not-fish.

I didn’t call them... I said cuttlefish. Let me explain: Our words can be... imprecise, like a starfish isn’t a fish, and catfish aren’t cats. Please don’t assume we are insulting you.

Then choose your words better.

I will try.

We sat in silence.

2-3-F will bring your food.

Was that a name?

The voice said, 2-3-F is the Servant you call Yellow.

I said, May I point out an issue?

You dare to complain?

Larisa looked at me again.

No... It’s just-

We saved you from certain death.

And we thank you. I’m not complaining. Call it... an exchange of information. I glanced toward Larisa, then back to the ceiling. The Ensign and I are not family. Imagine someone forced you to share a bed with a warrior or servant of the opposite sex?

Silence.

Hello?

Everything went black.

***

Too many hours without light or food.

The lights came on with blinding intensity.

Don’t provoke Benu’s anger again.

I meant no disrespect, Benu.

Dark again.

––––––––

5

The lights came on maybe an hour later, and the food panel opened: the leaves in the bowl looked like spinach but bitter.

Keep the Holy Names of Ethu, Benu, and Molu out of your Kudzu mouths, or by Ethu, I will feed you to Benu. This is your only warning.

After several seconds, I said, May I speak?

Larisa wore a frightened look.

The voice wondered if that was wise.

I meant no insult. What should we call you?

After a few seconds, the voice said, You may call me Priest. Why do you insist she is not family?

Because... we just met.

And you don’t care what happens to her.

No. I don’t want her harmed.

Then she is family.

I shook my head. No.

You are trying to humiliate me.

I’m not.

She was less than nothing to you before we rescued you. Without our duty to Molu, she would be dead and less than nothing to you now.

I kept quiet.

If your family is in danger, would you protect them?

I said, Yes. If I could.

"If the Ensign were in danger, would