His grunting and hissing, and the squeaking of his feet on the cool marble, masked the sound of the gold bars retreating into the jamb. Cole threw a few new combos together and worked on a feint that would set up his uppercut—just as the massive aliens crossed the plush carpet and arrived at the open bathroom door.
It wasn’t until one of them spoke that Cole realized he had visitors—and that he was dancing around with no clothes on. He whirled around, his hands still up in a defensive posture.
The Drenard in the doorway cooed pleasantly, but the sight of his lance sent a zap of fear through Cole’s spine. Around this guard stepped one of the ornate Drenards dressed in layers, but this time with an additional cloak that covered his arms, a gold braid tied around his waist to link the open sides together. His longer tunics were pulled up through this belt and folded over, freeing his hands.
It could have been the same male from the ship, Cole couldn’t be sure. The red band around his blue head was different, but the face looked similar, as alien races tend to do until you get to know them. The large alien approached on bare feet and held out a small bundle. He continued to make the pleasant sounds that had disturbed Cole’s exercises.
Cole accepted the proffered gift; it was a colorful tunic, similar to one the guard was wearing. He draped it over his head and the hem almost went to the floor. He looked back to the Drenard, whose identical tunic barely fell to his knees.
Turning to glance at himself in the mirror, Cole saw a little boy playing dress-up—a pauper pretending to be a prince. He decided it was more humiliating than being stark naked.
The Drenard waved at him, breaking his spell and gesturing toward the door.
“Fine,” Cole said. “Lead the way.” He waved a hand toward the door and followed the large alien into the bedroom. The obligatory escort of double guards, each with a ferocious lance, formed up on either side. Cole cast a wary glance at them, happy to see the infernal devices aimed at the ground. He was also ecstatic to see the bars in the doorway were up.
The cloaked alien led the two guards into the hall, then turned and looked back at Cole. He shrugged, mostly to himself, and strolled out to join them. Judging from the odd mix of treatment thus far, he figured they were either going to lead him to a sumptuous feast or a torturous interrogation.
But certainly not both.
8
The Drenards led Cole down the ornate hallway, past a series of marble doors with lowered gold bars, until they came to a doorway that stood open. They waved inside where he found a table hewn out of the now-familiar grainy rock. It was covered with plates and bowls of foodstuffs, but only a single chair sat before it. The Drenards moved Cole to the chair, then gestured to the victuals, almost as if to say “whatever you subsist on can be found here” rather than “look at all the yummy stuff we made for you.”
Cole sampled a few things and didn’t find any of it too unpleasant.
“Thank you very much,” he offered.
None of the Drenards budged. Cole could sense they were waiting for him to get his fill before whatever came next. He felt tempted to draw the meal out, to stall for time, but the cold politeness was unbearable, and his curiosity growled louder than his stomach. He really wanted to know whether they considered him a prisoner or a cherished guest, so he ate just enough to energize him for the day before pushing the bowls away, making several hand gestures he hoped would suggest “no more.”
The leader nodded and said something to the other two in that gentle voice of his. The guards strapped their lances across their backs and began clearing the table; another Drenard entered with a second chair and topped Cole’s water up.
Having the large creatures swirl around him in furious activity completed the young prince illusion from the bathroom mirror, making him feel extra ridiculous. Even more so when he was “crowned” a few moments later by yet another Drenard male, who came in and showed him a red headband just like the one his escort wore. The thing was held reverently for Cole to see, then the alien reached up and placed it around his forehead—arranging it just so.
The rough material itched his scalp; Cole reached up to scratch it, but the Drenard pushed his hand down gently. He decided it was best to quietly bear the discomfort.
While the new Drenard tended to him, the others finished cleaning up, their movements uncannily orchestrated. Every action was performed with a precision that reminded Cole of his own military training. When the maneuvers finally completed, he found himself left in the room with just the presumed officer seated across the table. A glass of water stood before the Drenard, full, and sweating slightly.
“My name is Dani Rooo,” Cole thought.
But why did he think that?
His right hand came up to touch the red band, as if it knew the answer.
“No it’s not. My name is Cole,” he thought to himself.
“Hello, Cole.” The Drenard across from him opened his mouth and made a funny shape with it. The voice in Cole’s head was his own, but they weren’t his words.
“You have to think on the surface, or speak aloud. I cannot hear you unless you’re forming the words in your head.”
An image flashed in Cole’s head. A woman. Aunt Carol? Crazy aunt Carol who heard voices. Gods, he hadn’t thought about her since he left Portugal. What in the world made her come to mind?
“Let’s start with where you found Anlyn Hooo, Cole.”
Now he understood how Aunt Carol felt. His own voice was in his head, and it was telling him to do things. He had a powerful urge to grab the red band and throw it across the room.
But something told him that wouldn’t be a wise move.
“Can you hear me?” Cole thought it out loud in his head.
“Very good. Now, where did you find Lady Hooo?”
“How does this work?” Cole asked, unable to concentrate on the alien’s question with so many of his own, both sets of thoughts jumbled up in the same head. “Do you speak English?” he added, tossing another on the pile.
Dani Rooo leaned back in his chair. There was silence in Cole’s head for a moment.
“Do you know why life forms are so similar, Cole?”
It seemed a bit off-topic, but he was interested in playing along. Not so much by the question—a classic in xenophilosophy—but by the tone of his own voice. It was as if the alien across from him knew the answer and was just testing him.
“Because they’re the simplest solutions to common problems? Problems of survival?”
Dani made the shape with his mouth from earlier. Cole labeled the expression a “smile,” then realized he no longer had to guess.
“Do you find my answer funny?”
“No. But it does make me happy. Women and youth are not very good at keeping secrets. The combination almost guarantees a spill of information. With Lady Hooo unconscious, there’s no way of knowing what you know or don’t know.”
“Trust me,” Cole thought to Dani, “I know less than nothing. Why don’t you fill me in—how’s Anlyn? Am I a prisoner here? Where are my friends? And how are you talking in my head?”