Amy Thomson - Through Alien Eyes

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You will see,” her guard said. “Come.”

They stopped at another locked cell. With a jangle of keys the sergeant opened it. The other two guards stationed themselves beside the door, their pistols drawn.

“Ukatonen!” Juna cried.

He was unconscious. His skin was a strange silvery white, and there were cuts and dark patches on his skin. It took Juna a moment to realize that the dark patches were bruises. He was too far gone to heal the damage they had done.

“What have you done to him?” she demanded.

“He would not cooperate. It was necessary to use force,” the guard told her.

Juna squatted next to him. “Ukatonen, it’s me, Eerin. Wake up, en.”

His eyes slitted open; the pupils were different sizes. “Eerin? Is it really you?” he said in skin speech, the words faint and fuzzy around the edges. “They hit me on the head. Hurts. Can’t think. Can’t heal. Need help. Moki?”

“He’s here too. Shall I bring him?”

Ukatonen started to nod, then stopped. He flickered agreement in skin speech. “Please. Soon.”

Juna stood. “He’s badly hurt. We need Moki.”

“I will send for the doctor,” the guard said.

“No,” Juna said. “A doctor could kill him. Moki can heal him. But we need him quickly.”

The sergeant stepped forward, and caught her chin in a painfully powerful grip. He dragged her to her feet and twisted her head up and around to look at him. “I am in charge here,” he told her. “I could hurt you. It would be wise not to forget that.”

“Do you want him dead?” Juna asked. “Moki is the only one who can heal him.”

The sergeant jerked her up on tip toes, and squeezed her jaw so hard that she thought it was going to break. He let her go with a sudden shove that sent her reeling into the wall. He spoke into a comm unit at his belt. “We will bring him,” he told Juna.

“Moki and I will be tired and hungry afterwards. We will need to eat,” Juna explained. “This kind of healing lakes energy.” Her chin felt as though it had been caught m a vise, but she refused to rub it.

The guard nodded grudgingly. “Food will be brought, as well.”

Moki was escorted in. “En!” he cried, his skin flaring red and orange. Juna laid a hand on Moki’s arm before he alarmed the guards. “He is badly hurt, and needs allu-a.”

“I will do what I can, siti,” Moki said.

They linked. Ukatonen’s normally powerful presence was barely detectable. Juna could feel Moki’s anger surging strongly. She contained it before it unbalanced the fragile link. She felt Moki pause, and get control of his anger. It showed a new level of maturity. Juna let her approval of this maturity expand into the link, reinforcing her barm’s confidence.

Moki began examining Ukatonen’s head injury, and Juna felt his confidence begin to falter. Even without allu, Juna could tell that it was very bad. A pungent coppery aura filled the area around the wound. The damage had affected Ukatonen’s ability to repair it. He literally couldn’t focus well enough to constrict the necessary blood vessels, and the bleeding had increased the pressure inside his skull.

After putting Ukatonen into a deep, healing coma, Moki constricted the arteries that fed the injury. This helped stop the dangerous buildup of pressure inside the enkar’s skull. As the pressure eased, Moki set about repairing the damage. It was delicate, careful work. Monitoring Moki, Juna could feel his fear and frustration build, but it did not affect the care with which he worked. At last, exhausted, he broke the link.

“I’ve done what I know how to do, siti,” he told her in skin speech. “The rest is beyond my skill. There is damage. I don’t know how much or how permanent it will be.” He glanced down at Ukatonen, lying unconscious on the mat. “I can repair the bruises and cuts, but it would be best if I rested first.” He paused, then went on: “I wish Ukatonen were awake. Maybe he could tell me what to do. But I’m afraid to wake him. He would only try to fix the problem, and that would make blood flow to the injury. It’s best to keep him unconscious for now.”

“You’ve done well, bai.”

Moki just looked at her and shook his head.

“How is he?” the sergeant asked.

“We’ve done what we can for now. He’s stable. We need food and a chance to rest before we do more work.”

Food came. Juna ate mechanically, not tasting it, her eyes on Ukatonen. When they were finished, Moki sat, eyes hooded, his skin a muddy roil of turbulent colors.

The door opened, and the two guards at the door visibly stiffened as a short, black-haired man swaggered in. Someone important, Juna concluded.

“How is the injured one?” he demanded.

“The little alien and Dr. Saari have been working on him, Commandante,” the sergeant rapped out.

He looked at them. “Well?”

“Moki’s doing the best he can,” Juna said. “We don’t know yet how extensive or permanent the damage to Ukatonen will be. We are resting before we do more healing.”

“I see. How long will it be before you know?”

Juna looked thoughtful for a moment. “We’re not sure,” she said. “At least several days. Possibly a week or more. What do you want with us?” she demanded.

The man frowned. “We will tell you when we are ready to tell you.” He glanced at the sergeant. “Carlos, show Professora Saari that we are in charge here.”

The sergeant slapped her. Hard. She stumbled back several steps, dizzy, her head ringing. Moki had turned bright red, and started forward.

“Don’t hit my mother.”

“Again, Carlos.”

This time Juna was prepared, and rolled with the blow. It hurt, but it did not stun her.

“No!” Moki cried.

“Again, Carlos. Harder.”

This time he slugged her hard enough to knock her down. She hit their dinner trays, and they scattered with a metallic clatter. Moki flew at him claws out, spurs forward.

“Moki, stop!” Juna called through the ringing in her ears.

Two guards wearing thick leather gloves grabbed Moki, pinning his arms down against his sides. He started to struggle.

“Stop!” Juna called again. “Moki, please, stop.”

“You can fight, little one, but every time you do, we hurt the professora.” He nodded at Carlos, who raised his arm. Juna rolled in time to avoid the worst of the blow, but it still stung.

“Stop,” Juna said. “We understand. If you continue to beat me, I will be unable to help heal Ukatonen.”

That seemed to stop the commandante. [[“Enough, Car-

— Do as we say, Professora. And see to it that the sick

e gets better quickly. Your lives depend on it.” He turned -.d walked out, not waiting for an answer. Carlos followed him.

The other guard, the kind private who had first brought

: food, shook his head philosophically. “Ah, senhora,

u should not have spoken so to the commandante. He . _r, be a hard man.”]]

Juna got up slowly, still disoriented by the blows. Each movement made her aware of new aches and bruises. The guard began picking up the utensils. He glanced up at her. “Senhora, why don’t you and the little one rest in your cells while we clean up here?”

She shook her head, and winced at the pain the motion caused. “We should look after Ukatonen.”

“He’s asleep. If he wakes up, we’ll send for you. Go on, we can’t clean up properly if you are here.” It was phrased as a request, but it was clearly an order.

Juna reluctantly agreed, and the guards showed the two of them into Moki’s cell. As soon as the door shut, they sat on the floor and did what they could to repair their injuries. They were too exhausted and numb to try to raise each other’s spirits. They were too tired to do more than stop the pain and swelling. They broke the link and fell asleep on Moki’s thin foam mattress, curled around each other for warmth and reassurance.