Mike Resnick - I, Alien

“Er, no thanks.”

“Drink!” It was not a request but an order. I had made a mistake coming here. These sorts of problems had not occurred in the library. I looked at the drink again; I looked at the large person again. I picked up the drink. It didn’t smell too vile. I took a sip.

“All of it.” I drank. Whatever was in it was potent. I think I lost consciousness even before I tilted in the chair.

My head hurt badly. My one comfort was the knowledge that I would soon die and end the pain.

“You are not going to die.” A high voice removed that hope.

I sat up; my head did not fall off.

“You vavacq have no tolerance for ethanol, why do you imbibe it?”

“One drink, and not a large one.”

“Yes, only one drink, but its trace impurities had a powerful effect upon you.”

“You drugged me!”

“It was the easiest way to get you here without complications.”

I had been kidnapped. Some ship must want a General Maintainer (Probationary) very much. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“Open your eyes, vavacq! I will fix your pain.”

The pain vanished; I could have become rich on Mrrthow if I knew how to do that. I opened my eyes, slowly this time. There was an alien of a type I had never seen before. He(?) was tall, slim, covered with a golden down and almost glowing. This creature was beautiful.

“Trapelo Sector. It is so much more pleasant here without the prying eyes of interfering busybodies. You need not know who we are. Ask why you are here.”

“Why am I here?”

“We have a proposal of mutual advantage. Something that you will enjoy as much as we will.”

“What do you want from me?”

“A better question would be—what can we gain together?”

“What can we gain together?”

“Pleasure.”

“Pleasure? How?”

“You are a vavacq. The humans hate you and you hate the humans.”

“It’s the generally prevailing opinion,” I allowed. The alien looked at me silently, then continued.

“Between you and the human on your ship exists massive hatred, contempt, and other strong emotions.

For your pleasure, we have brought her here.” One of the walls thinned and vanished—and suspended there was Lady Susan.

I had never seen more of Lady Susan than her hands or face. Her body was brown and almost furless. She was clearly a mammal with two gross breasts. “She is yours. We give her to you.”

This was moving too fast. “Why do I want her— and for what?”

“For eons, her species and yours have been locked in battle. They devastated your planets, killed your people, destroyed your culture. Now, you can attain personal revenge. Take it.” A wave of dark eroticism swept through my mind. I imagined myself doing things that I had never before imagined. There was a seductive pleasure underlaid with a righteous indignation against this enemy of the vavacq. The pleasure would be justified; nothing I could do to Lady Susan would be wrong. I turned to the alien. “What’s in it for you?”

“We are connoisseurs of emotions. We will record yours and hers and enjoy them over and over again. This costs you nothing. The more your enjoyment, the keener our pleasure; the more pain she suffers, the more piquant the counterpoint. The Creator made you and the humans to contend forever.”

I walked to where Lady Susan was hanging. She was conscious.

“Hello,” I said. “Nice to see you again.”

She spat at me; her aim was fine. “Slime! I will not lower myself to beg for mercy. See how a human dies.”

“I need a sharp knife, about this long,” I said, holding my paws out. “My claws are not sufficient for what I want to do.” The alien smiled and soon I was holding a beautiful blade. I reached up left, then right, and cut the bonds holding Lady Susan. Then I cut her feet free.

The alien, who had been silent, snarled, “What are you doing?”

“Cutting her loose. Now, if we can have her clothing, we’ll be leaving.”

“This is not permitted.”

“You said I could do with her as I chose. I choose to set her free.” I found that the aliens could transmit emotions as well as receive them. It started as just pain—an ache in all my teeth. A crescendo of pain that transformed as my joints exploded. I was put into a locked iron box; the walls started pressing in even as they became red- and then white-hot. I had to get out, get the key, unlock the box. The pain eased.

“This is only a sample of what we can do. Yield. Perform. Pleasure can be yours, not pain. Join with us.” And a wave of undiluted pleasure racked me. It was worse than the pain because some of the horror was from within. “Will you consent?”

Consent was important; they could not force me. They could torture me and could tempt me, but the final decision would be mine. I tried to resist, but what weapons did I have? Use your personal imagination. That was the message through the computer. Did it mean anything? The alien drew back. It meant something.

I had a breathing space. I would have to fight back with my mind; use my imagination to counter the pain. I went through a sequence of battles from my CR readings—giant spaceships with ravening lances of energy, long-range ray guns in a post-civilized culture, magic swords to destroy demons, amulets to protect against monsters that lived between dimensions. My mind created the ability to conquer the alien with mind power.

There was a colorless flash, and then nothing. I awoke to see both the alien and Lady Susan were slumped on the floor. I put the knife in my belt. Lady Susan was unconscious but breathing. I didn’t check the alien because I didn’t care.

I tried to dress Lady Susan in my outerwear but gave up. It’s harder to dress a female than to undress one. I tore down a wall hanging, cut off a strip for a belt, rolled Lady Susan into it, and tied it off. It lacked style, but I thought it would serve. I half-carried, half-dragged her back into the area in which I had first awakened and then out a portal into the light.

I was in Trapelo Sector and I needed to get both of us back to the ship, fast. I knew where we were and I knew where the ship was, but I didn’t know how to get from here to there. There were transport modules, but my kidnappers had emptied my pockets and Lady Susan didn’t have any pockets.

I saw a communications kiosk down the corridor, and carried her into it, closing the door behind us. It was clearly not designed for two. There was access to emergency services, but it cost; nothing is free here. But thankfully there was the equivalent of a reverse charge call.

A watch officer agreed to pay for 15 seconds—more out of boredom than anything else. His Lobote jaws opened in surprise as my face appeared on his screen. “You? What do you mean by…”

“Quiet. Me. Lady Susan. Trapelo Sector. Send help fast.” And the screen went blank. I turned to open the door. There was a crowd outside armed with knives. (Actually, there were only five of them, but five was enough of a crowd for me.) I held the door shut as the largest moved forward to pry it open. I concentrated on keeping the door shut. I was losing. I took out my knife, pulled the door instead of pushing, had the satisfaction of seeing the large one fall down. I jumped out and crouched into what I thought was a knife-fighter’s stance. In the stories I had read, the heroes get some sort of training in these things; someone had screwed up here. I invoked the epic heroes to help me, but this was not the mental combat I had just been in.

The fellow in the green dress leaped in and slashed at my left arm. I blocked most of this, but it caused a shallow cut that hurt. Blood started dripping down.

I stepped back and hit the kiosk and slipped. This saved me from another’s jab. The big guy had gotten up and yelled for his accomplices to step back. He took out a knife, balanced it in his hand, and threw it at me. Pain ripped through my left shoulder. Another knife and my right shoulder was pierced. I dropped my own blade as my arm convulsed. He was playing with me. “Dance around. Give me a challenge.”