“So why Earth? Why are we special?”
“Well, scholars have always believed that the single beat of the Rhythm is constant. Unchanging. The theory goes that it is, in your time measurements, three hundred and sixty-five, point two five-six days,” Mellok said, tapping his finger in the air as he counted.
“A year?”
The alien scuttled about on his legs excitedly. “Exactly! Earth is the only planet in the galaxy with that exact orbit. One rotation of the Earth around your star is equivalent to one single beat of the Rhythm. That makes your planet a kind of, holy metronome.”
Michael began to laugh, a throaty deep chuckle in the pit of his stomach. “I’m sorry, you’re saying that our planet is sacred because of how long our year is? That, what, you think we’re in some way God’s clock? That doesn’t make any sense. Even I know Earth isn’t that old, not in the grand scheme of things.”
“No one says religion has to make sense,” Aileen said, slapping Michael on the shoulder. “You should thank your luck. It’s the only reason the Council arrived with open arms instead of troop transports and orbital bombardments. The other planets they conquer aren’t so lucky. Hell, they were probably planning on wiping out your kind until word got out about Earth being inhabited. Even the Council would be in trouble if they did, a lot of folks think that humans are chosen by the Rhythm or some crap like that.”
Mellok coughed. Or at least tried to. It seemed he was aware of the social convention, but totally unaware what a normal cough would sound like. “Some of us do believe, Aileena, even if you do not. It was obvious the knower would be from Earth once it was discovered. Anyway, you should get some rest,” Mellok said, tapping Michael on the knee. “This is bound to have been stressful for you. You too, Aileena. I will call you should I need anything. Brekt, will you keep first watch with me?” The tall green-skinned man barked back at the bird. “Good, I shall be glad of your company.”
“I uh, is he fucking serious?” Michael said, turning to face Aileena.
“Very. He paid good money for us to come to collect you. Or at least, he will be paying good money. If we get to Cortica alive.”
“I’m sorry, by the way, about your friend. At the football field.”
“Ah.” Aileena looked down with her two largest eyes, whilst the others continued looking forward. Michael wondered if she saw through all of them. “Yes, well, comes with the work I’m afraid. He was a good man. Vergil, that was his name.”
“I am sorry. Sorry about Vergil.”
“Yes, well, you had better be worth it.”
The ship’s layout was strange. The bottom deck consisted of the control room the front, the airlock, and then empty cargo space followed by a small engine room. The upper two decks were accessible through the cargo hold, either by two ladders or a lift that Michael had taken one look at before deciding against riding. Thick rust had gathered around its base, oil trickling across the empty hold from some unmaintained valve. The second deck seemed to consist of an open kitchen area. Michael had decided that it must be the kitchen, as it had a large table with benches at either side, a collection of bizarre-looking objects plugged into walls, and what appeared to be a sandwich maker. That had been the clincher, everyone had a sandwich maker taking up unneeded space, it was a rule that was apparently universal. Past the kitchen was a room full of adjustable beds. Above each was a large metal frame lined with dozens of robotic arms, sharp implements gleaming from the end. It was either a medical bay of some kind, or the most sadistic dentist’s he had seen in a while.
The third deck, that was the winner. It held six separate rooms, each with a bed, drawers set into the wall, a silver seat with a lid that Michael assumed was a toilet, and a large matching basin that shot water from a hole when Michael pressed a button. He sincerely hoped that he hadn’t gotten it and the toilet the wrong way around. He chose one that seemed empty and took off his brogues, choosing to prise them off on the edge of the bed rather than undo the laces.
He collapsed onto it, the mattress letting out a gasp of air. It was comfortable if a little firm, but Michaels mattress at home had been a hand-me-down from his mother, a ridiculous thing made of an unreasonable number of expensive foams. He had never really liked it, feeling like he was sinking into the thing, not unlike the gel chair he had been strapped into. If he was going to be trapped in a ship with weird aliens, at least he was getting good back support. He tugged the sheet out from under himself and placed it atop his body. It was thin, like expensive cotton, but was surprisingly warm.
“Hey, you ok?” Aileena was stood in the doorway, a black tray in her hand.
“Not really.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have thought so. I brought you some food. Enjoy it, we don’t have much. Better hope we can pick some up in Ossiark. It’s a long wait to Cortica. I hope you like korpsik fish.”
“Oh, well if its corpse sick fish why didn’t you say, it sounds just delicious.” Michael shot bolt upright in the bed, glaring at Aileena.
“Look, I know we didn’t get off to the best start.”
“Oh, no! Really? I didn’t get along with my kidnapper? Do excuse my manners. I really am so sorry, my lady. Did I offend you in some manner? Tis most unbecoming of a gentleman.”
“You never do shut up do you?” Aileena tossed the tray at Michael and he scrabbled to catch it, spilling a thick orange sauce onto his new bed. “Are all humans like you?”
“Once you get a pint or two into them maybe?”
“A pint? More blood makes humans talk more?”
“What?” Michael placed the tray on the ground beside the bed. His hands normally danced as he spoke, their shapes matching their words. Holding something and talking felt wrong. “No, not blood. Beer. Booze. Alcohol. You know, an inebriating drink. Dutch courage.”
“Ah right. Alcohol. I understand now. Yes, I’ve read some species have strange effects under it.”
“Do you not?”
“Not alcohol no, though my people do have something similar. Let’s see if this translates properly. Sulfuric Acid. Did that come through ok?” Aileena was smiling at him. It didn’t suit her.
“Yes, it did. Remind me not to go drinking with you at any point.” Michael smiled back to her as a loud screech escaped from a box in the corner of the room.
“Hello? Is this on? Yes, hello?” Mellok’s voice filled the air, booming from the rattling speaker. “Brekt, check this for me.”
“How are you understanding him? He’s speaking English.”
“No,” Aileena said. “He isn’t. He’s speaking Cortican, it’s just, well everyone understands a Cortican, and they understand everyone else. It’s a thing they do, some kind of minor telepathy. They’re very popular translators because of it.”
“Ah yes, I see the light now,” Mellok said. “Can everyone please come to the control room, we’re being followed. Appears it’s the Council.”
Chapter Six
Boots clanged against ladder rungs as Aileena and Michael clattered down from the upper deck. Aileena leapt free from the ladder from several feet up, landing on the cargo hold’s floor with a thud. Michael gulped, considered copying her, then decided to instead climb the whole way down. His jacket pinched awkwardly as he climbed, it was much cheaper than it appeared at first, the cut just a little too tight. His feet touched the metal floor of the cargo bay and Michael felt a strange shivering sneak up through his socks, the light constant vibration of the vessel now noticeable. His shoes lay in the room he had claimed as his own, next to the tray of unappetising looking slop Aileena had claimed was fish. Michael began to walk across the room, headed to the airlock door. Each step was painful, the floor of the cargo bay was a kind of thin grid, the sharp metal digging into his feet as he walked.