still inside the fiery shuttle. I looked around and saw three other Earthlings and one other of my race.
Feerow. He was stretched out on the floor beside me. His body was a sickening shade of green that was far too dark.
“He is dying,” I said.
“Then you had better hope your world meets our demands quickly,” the man replied.
“You said you were taking us to a hospital.” I could not comprehend saying one thing and doing another.
“I lied.” The man’s mouth opened wide to expose his teeth. They were not clean, white, and beautiful like those of each human I’d met thus far. These were grayish-yellow and there was a gap between two lower teeth. I could smell his breath and it was not pleasant.
Then I realized that I stank as well. My hands were charred from the fire and blood encrusted. My tunic was ruined and heavy with sweat.
“We both need medical treatment and the room’s temperature needs to be decreased for our comfort.”
The pale-skinned woman beside me made an odd noise in her lower throat and spit on me. Me! A Tween! The spittle ran down the left side of my face and when I tried to wipe it away, I realized that my upper limbs were tied fast to my sides and I could not reach that high. I had to sit there, wearing this female human’s body waste.
She smiled and said, “It’s different when the shoe is on the other foot, isn’t it?”
I glanced down at my feet. Both shoes were there and they were correct.
“He doesn’t understand, Glory,” the dark-skinned male said. His arms moved up, like he was attempting to toss something into the air.
“Of course he does, Bill,” Glory’s voice was loud and she squished her face tight so her eyelids narrowed into tiny slits. The effect would have been comical had I not felt my life imperiled. These people had bombed our shuttle!
Glory stood up and moved closer to Bill.
“He’s the Tween! Just look at his cloak.”
Her arm moved to point at me in a straight line. For a moment, I considered the possibility that it was not a neurological problem, but an intentional action, that caused her to point in my direction.
Not possible! I could not have overlooked anything that might facilitate communication.
“We hit the jackpot,” Glory pulled her arm back and now both arms were waving in Bill’s direction. “Not only did these two fall into our hands like gold falling off a Brinks truck, but we got the one member of their group who can speak our language.”
She glanced in Feerow’s direction and grinned in a way that made be feel cold despite the heat of the room. “The contract’s not signed yet, and if he dies, that’ll scare them off.”
“Feerow is a vaaishya,” I said, scarcely believing that even humans could set themselves up as judgment walls. “He is important and needed.”
The light-skinned male made a snorting sound. “Hey, Bill, maybe this Feerow guy can get you a record contract.”
“Shut up, Trey.”
A record contract. So this was another musician. What was rare on our world was common and cheaply available on theirs.
“There will be many opportunities when our factories are completed,” I said.
“I don’t want a frigging factory job!” Bill hit the wall with his fist and I could no longer deny that these seemingly random limb-wavings, which I’d attributed to some neurological problem, were actually controlled and deliberate. In fact, they were a method of communication.
The earlier Tweens had not gone mad. They had learned that humans were not the mutes we had thought. The idea was so bizarre that the judgment wall must had thought them insane.
And would think me insane as well, should I live to report it.
“I am an artist!” Bill’s voice nearly broke on the last word. I could clearly see the pattern now.
“I am not a hack.” His face was redder than any I’d seen before and I could not reconcile his words with embarrassment. Years of training and experience led me to believe he was angry, although I hadn’t a clue why I thought that.
Hack meant a cab driver. A writer. A computer coder. All of these were jobs that no longer existed in Earth’s society. Ah! There was another definition that might apply. Art without imagination and originality.
Feerow was growing darker by the moment. I was not a vaaishya and I could think of only one thing to say that might persuade them to take us to a hospital.
“I am certain that I can arrange job interviews for each of you in return for Feerow’s life.”
Bill kicked me. In my face. I fell backward and when I finally managed to open my eyes again, the dark- skinned woman was leaning over me and wiping my face with a rough cloth. My face hurt. I tried to speak, but my mouth felt so huge and numb that I couldn’t form words.
I panicked. Never in my life had I been unable to speak in any one of the three forms until now.
The room filled with my smells and I could see my limbs cycling through one color after another. I would die. If the judgment wall was here, I would be judged useless and die immediately.
Feerow lay mostly dead a few feet away from me and he reeked of pity. He was dying and he pitied me. I fell back and turned the darkest shade of green that I could imagine. This was worse than death.
“Nice going, Bill,” the dark-skinned woman said. “He can’t speak.”
“Shut up, Amy,” Bill muttered. “It’s an improvement. Damn lying alien. Trying to rape our culture. Turn us into slaves. Ought to slit them open and drop them at the UN’s doorstep. That’d convince them to go away and leave our world alone.”
“What we need to do,” Trey said, “is get out of here. The police have to be looking for us. That woman who asked where we were taking them probably gave the police a description of our car. The hell with saving Earth from little green men. Let’s save ourselves.”
“He’s too sick to move.” Amy pointed toward Feerow.
“Leave him behind.” Trey shrugged his shoulders. “They’ll find him.”
“He’ll be dead when they find him!” Amy put her hands on her hips and thrust her face forward. How odd. In a strange kind of way, this reminded me of the ballet that had been presented for us during one of our initial meetings.
“Let him die.” Bill muttered. “Look what they’re doing to us.”
“I won’t be an accomplice to murder,” Amy screamed. “Besides, it’ll kill the cause, not help it. Those idiots who bombed them probably undid everything we’ve managed to accomplish.”
So someone else did this. It was logical. These four humans were too disorganized to have planned anything successfully.
While they argued, I glanced around the room and began easing toward the door. I didn’t know what these people wanted, but I knew I couldn’t give it to them and Feerow was dying. If I escaped, I might be able to find help in time to save him.
They weren’t looking in my direction. They were too occupied with their internal dispute.
I reached the door and struggled to turn the doorknob with my upper limb’s digits. The door creaked when I opened it. I glanced quickly toward the humans, but they were too busy shouting at one another and waving their arms about to notice the small noise.
I ran, screaming fear in the strongest scent that I could possibly release. I felt like I’d run 100 kilometers, but they told me later that I had only gone a single kilometer before a hovercraft descended and six huge Earthlings dropped to the ground around me.
“We’re from the government,” the first one said, “and we’re here to help you. Just let me fasten my harness around you.”
The next thing I knew, I was being pulled off the ground into the hovercraft.
“You’ll be fine in a few days,” the doctor told me.
I opened my mouth and strange gurgling noises were all I could manage.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “There’s no indication of any permanent damage. The swelling will gradually subside and you’ll be talking normally again in no time.”
I struggled to find some way to communicate and remembered the way my captors had gestured with their
