“Okay, what IS it with this guy? I mean for holding us prisoner for three weeks and running, he doesn't seem to want anything from us.”
“He's just trying to understand us.” Nikita said definitively. “And that goes both ways. He's...different. Unless he's Phobos in which case he is REALLY different.”
“I do not understand.”
“He's a GREEN Martian. And he's lived on Earth for over 300 years. If he's lived that time alone, like more alone than I ever was, it's little wonder he doesn't trust humans. It would be easier to trust someone he knew was...different.”
“Which explains why he talks with you so freely. He knows you're an alien.”
“Yes. He would have learned not to trust humans. Trust me it wasn't just my time at the D.E.O. that taught me how ignorant humans can be, especially when they're scared.”
“How long have you been on Earth anyway?”
“Since
about 3 months before you first landed on the moon.”
“Wow.
You do NOT look that old.”
“My people age in stages and in surged Jeremiah. Until I hit 90 years old I won't look much different than I do at 40.”
“I get the feeling the others of his kind are...”
“Not his kind Jeremiah. Whites and Greens are different races of the same species. They are not of each-other's like.”
“You're saying that depending on which race of Martian he is...” I couldn't finish the thought, because for the first time in my memory Nikita interrupted me.
“Jeremiah, if that man wanted us dead we'd BE dead!”
(Two days later)
“Stop it!” Nikita cried out. The alien stopped in his tracks. He turned to Nikita with a look. “He's done nothing to deserve this. I would think if anything you'd be after me.”
“Are you saying you'd rather die instead?”
“...Yes.” Nikita answered her voice low but distinct.
“I would rather be killed than let him die. I'd think if you'd be angry at either of us it would be a freak of nature like me. Not the best human I've ever known. If nothing else that makes sense!”
A single look told Nikita the outburst hit home. The man instantly released her friend. “There was no need for any of this Sajen. There never was, was there?”
“I...I misread the situation.” The alien said as if he were a schoolboy getting dressed down for misbehaving. A feeling that would only deepen as the conversation continued.
“And that's the worst thing about all of this. All you had to do was ask. I would have told you. Hell you're a Martian you could have read my mind. I would have permitted it! How quickly we become the things we hate and we don't even realize it.” Nikita walked to the far end of the room sat on the floor with her feet crossed in front of her and turned her head away from her host. Displaying a universal 'I don't want to talk to you' attitude.
“She's comparing you to Hank Henshaw.” Jeremiah explained. “Someone who treated her like an enemy for absolutely no reason and literally tortured her to convince her to reveal the truth...what ever that was. But there was no truth to be found. She wasn't a danger to anyone. And if Hank had looked at her for 5 seconds and seen anything other than a human-looking alien...he would have seen what was right in front of his face: seen her for the innocent person she was. But Hank didn't bother to look. He actually got off on hurting aliens...even helpless ones like her.”
“And you broke her free.” Realization blanketed the strangers face. Followed quickly by a look of unmitigated shame. “You broke her free from the D.E.O.”
“I couldn't stand by and let her get tortured for information she didn't actually have. For being a thing rather than a person. Most prisoners at the D.E.O absolutely deserve to be there. And some of them, to our eyes would truly look like freaks of nature. There is no getting around that. But Nikita was no threat, and certainly no apparent monster. One night Hank had...when I asked him why he was so convinced this prisoner was an enemy he promised me that 'tomorrow, that thing will reveal its true intentions'. It was horrible, far worse than what I imagined him capable of and that is saying something. I shut the machine down and took her out of it. Nikita put Hank in the device, but kept it turned off. I expected her to run off into the night but she didn't move. She asked me if I wanted to come with her. She said I deserved to be free of that place as much as she did. You are the third alien and the 14th face we have seen in the 8 weeks since that day. And she is quite right in her assertion. All you had to do was ask. She would have told you anything. Force, much less pain was useless. She actually laughed at Hank for making the exact same assumption.” Jeremiah smiled faintly as the memories caught up with him. “It was the last thing I expected of someone so...herself” His eyes became present again. “Both of you are equally blinded by your own prejudicial assumptions as far as she's concerned.”
“She still didn't stand up for herself.” The alien intoned. He tilted his head. “She probably didn't think she could reach me, any more than she could have gotten through to that thick-headed human you keep talking about. But she stood up for you. At least I was right about that part...I guess.”
“Okay, I'm a little lost.”
“Everything that lives has an instinctual fear of dying. But only humans have such a strong sense of self-preservation. Even those who would go out of their way to help lift the head of those weaker then themselves and protect perfect strangers would still tend to put their own lives and safety first if it came down to it. The human instinct for self-preservation is...amazing is the only word I can think of. She's different. She put your safety above her own. She gets a lower grade in self-preservation than she does in protection. Which is unbelievably rare in the galaxies.”
“Well that makes sense.” Jeremiah said without thinking. “She told me her race was rare. Not like superior but few and far between. That there literally aren't many of them left.”
Understanding once more blanketed the man's narrow face. “She's Xavallen. That explains it. That explains a lot actually.”
“I'm afraid I don't understand.”
“Enkarens and Xavallens are sibling races to each-other. Enkarens are...genetically speaking in trouble but also far superior to humans in most respects. Xavallens are, by comparison to their brethren philosophers and friars. They still speak the same language.”
“And she doesn't make sense for an Enkaren.”
J'onn nodded. “But more than that, Xavallens are a protected species.”
“Wait, what?”
“If I had known what she was, laying a hand on her to get You to talk would have been a crime. And I would have begged her forgiveness.”
“Sir, I confess I don't know where this comes from. But I know her, she holds you no grudge, for any of this.”
“And what about you?”
“You didn't know. And besides, it was as much my choice as hers.”
“I can see why she loves you so much.”
“...Loves me?”
“Like a father.”The man's face became concerned, and amazed. “You didn't know?”
“I didn't really have the chance to get to know her, until about 3 months ago.”
“This is...I don't even know how to finish that sentence.”
“Nikita calm down, you'll only exhaust yourself.”
“I have...” Nikita paused. “You're right. It's just our host, confuses me.”
“You're not alone. For holding us prisoner, he doesn't seem particularly interested in us.”
“He's trying to make sense of us. More specifically, of me.”
“Does he know who you are?”
“In that I'm an alien. The rest of it, I think he has...a nearly accurate picture of everything. I'm starting to get the suspicion that I'm 15 degrees off of everything I know about him.”
“How do you mean?”
“Either he's extremely a-typical for his race or I got the two confused to begin with.” She looked down. “Then again, he would have had even longer than I did to learn otherwise.”
Jeremiah looked sad. “I take it by 'to learn otherwise' you mean 'to learn what living on Earth would have taught him'.” Nikita nodded solemnly, her straight auburn hair shaking slightly with the motion.” How long have you had to learn the ways of Earth?”
“I first landed on Earth not too long before you landed on the moon.”
“Okay one, you do not look that old. And two, how much older do you think he is?”
“My people live about 120 of our own years. I don't know how long that is in yours. And...he's been here for at least 300 years.”
“Okay how do you know THAT?”
“He's a Martian. No matter what else he is, he's a Martian. Which...I hate being so clinical about the damn thing but Mars has been...inhospitable for the last 300 years.”
“Wait, are you saying that depending on which race of Martian he is...”
“Jeremiah, if that man wanted us dead we'd BE dead.”
“Then why the hesitation?”
“I'd rather believe that the way he's been talking to me is a result of him living on Earth for the last 300 years and not because I got it wrong which race of Martian was which.”
“Okay, now you really do need to sit down and vague out.”
“That sounds like an exceptionally good idea.”
Nikita's head dropped as she pulled her feet close to her hips. Her head dropped and she entered what Jeremiah knew to be a meditative state. Her knees were almost as high as her head was low. She could have been sleeping except her eyes were moving around. It was a pose she maintained into the next morning. She didn't even look up when their keeper walked into the room. Jeremiah could sense something was wrong. The man's eyes never left Nikita's face.
“Why do I get the feeling that if you had known I belonged to Deimos... you would have...”
“ 'Deimos Pah, Tar-ek Ni-cha.' would have been the first thing out of my mouth when you entered the room three days ago.”
“Could someone provide me with a translation, please?” Jeremiah asked, nonplussed.
“What she said was that I've failed or disgraced the name of my progenitor. She just needed to know which of the brothers I came from before saying it. White Martians are...”
“Monsters.” Nikita finished for him. “I was reasonably certain of that because of my other alien friends. I just never knew who came from whom.”
“How in the name of rational thought are you speaking the Enkaren language so naturally if you are not, yourself Enkaren?!”
“Because it's my native language as well!” Nikita replied, openly laughing at her host.
“But you...you're not...” He rubbed his left forefinger against her temple, as if tracing something that shouldn't be there. “Are you Xavallen?”
“Why should that be of particular interest to you?”
The alien actually bent his back forward and backed away from Nikita. “I...my name is... J'onn Jo'nzz. And I must humbly beg your pardon.”
“I...do not understand. Please you owe me nothing. You might owe Jeremiah and apology for misjudging him so completely but you owe me nothing.
“Okay, I'm officially lost.” Jeremiah admitted.
“No less so than I.” Nikita intoned.
“You...you don't...” J'onn actually stammered.
“My parents taught me more about Enkarens, Brevaks, Zyerilians and such than they did about our own race. That's why I left. There was a coming of age ceremony 2 years before I became a legal independent adult on my planet. But I never had one. My biological parents didn't think I was worth teaching my own races history and culture. So I ran away. And because I wasn't yet a legal adult by our planets laws that's what I was: A runaway.”
“I was as wrong about the two of you as this arrogant human you keep talking about. I am sorry. And I will FIND a way to make it right.” He left without another word.
Several hours later...
“Most humans, most races in the galaxies at all no matter how much they try to lift the head of another and put the needs of their friends first, would still put their own life, their own survival before anything else at need. Xavallens don't. They are, by comparison to their brethren, Friars and Philosophers.”
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