In a world where everyone is the extreme of themselves, Jeremiah speaks of their benign captor J'onn Jo'nzz.
'Will this be our life now? it's better than it was, especially for her. And that's what matters.'. The alien would come, feed us, ask us a few simple questions and then leave. He never did anything more TO me than shove me against a wall or punch me in the chest when I was 'being implacable'. But he actually, well, took care of us. And I was having trouble making heads or tails of him.
“This is...I don't even know how to finish that sentence.”
“Nikita calm down, you'll only exhaust yourself.”
“You're right. It's just our host, for lack of another word confuses me.”
“How do you read him? I mean I know you can, a lot better than most.”
“I'm not a telepath. I can sense someones' motivations and intentions, and any strong feelings. That's about it.”
His motivation is what I'm trying to figure out. For holding us prisoner the past month, 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?”
“That I'm an alien. The rest? He has a nearly accurate picture of things. I'm starting to suspect 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. But he would've had 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.”
“You do not look that old. Two, how much older do you think he is?”
“My people live about 120 years. He's been here for at least 300 years.”
“Okay how do you know THAT?”
“He's Martian. No matter what else he is, he's a Martian. Which...I hate being so clinical 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 the way he's been talking is a result of living on Earth for the last 300 years and not because I got wrong which race of Martian was which.”
“Okay, you really do need to sit down and vague out.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Nikita's head dropped as she pulled her feet close to her hips as she entered what he knew to be a meditative state. Her knees were almost as high as her head. She could've been asleep except her eyes were moving. It was a pose she maintained into the next morning.
Jeremiah could sense something was wrong. The man's eyes never left Nikita's face. “Come with me, now.” He said to Nikita. “I'll not ask again.”
Jeremiah stood beside his friend, his attitude protective. “Leave her alone.” J'onn raised his hand as if to backhand Jeremiah. But seemed to think better of it in the last second. “Whatever you have planned for her, take me.”
“If I plan to take her and execute her. Do you still volunteer?”
“I would not. But I know you're going to. Nikita was right, if you wanted either one of us dead we'd BE dead by now. If you wanted us hurt we'd be beaten black and blue. What you want from either of us is answers.”
“And it's about time I get them.” He grabbed Nikita's wrist and began dragging her to the door. Jeremiah put his hand on the man's shoulder and forcefully pulled him away. “Your actions are heroic, if exceedingly unwise.”
'What do you want with her?' Why the sudden interest in her?' 'Leave her alone you animal!' These expressions stretched themselves across Jeremiahs face in about 2 seconds. But he said none of these things. Instead he held out his hands in an emphatically non-threatening posture. “Sir, and I call you that because I have nothing else to call you. I swear on my life if you hurt her, my restraint will go right out the window. I will probably die trying to put you on the floor. But if you let her go, you can do whatever you want to me__in payment of that debt.” This speech did not have quite the effect he'd intended. The green-skinned Martian backed away from his human charge and cast down his eyes. “This surprises you?”
“Yes. What IS she to you? I mean...who is she to you?”
“Someone who has been tortured for years by a man far more blind than I have words to express. A man I served under for years and at one time looked up to. And I would die before I let her come to harm again. If there is one truth of which I need no convincing it is that she is innocent. And that she is precious to me. I can't understand it. But PLEASE, she has been through enough, let her alone.”
“You've learned I'm not Enkaren. And not the threat you feared. You must have thought HE was. Why? More relevant question...Phobos or Deimos?”
“You know the difference?” The Martian was astonished beyond measure.
“I know who they are. I don't know which is which. That was the problem. 'In the early days of Mars there were two brothers, Phobos and Deimos. Their rivalry and bloodshed was the reason for the split of the Green and White Martians.' I learned that from an Enkaren woman I once knew here on Earth. From which I understood that Phobos and Deimos were like Ishmael and Issac from the Bible. Except they split along such divergent paths they became two separate races rather than founding two separate religions. I never learned who was whose progenitor.”
“You never knew if my kind were...Ishmael or Issac?”
“I've never met your kind before in my life. And the White Martian I met was...Hank's favorite example of how dangerous aliens could truly be. She'd been in that cell for over a decade when I met her. No one could hold completely to their morals after that.” She spoke with unrestrained bitterness. “In case you haven't figured it out yet, Henshaw was a Creech-ta. If not a Chrish-naka Sareth. And until now you seemed equally blinded.”
“And f 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.”
“Could someone provide me with a translation, please?”
“What she said was that I've failed or disgraced the name of my progenitor.”
“Deimos?” Jeremiah guessed.
Nikita nodded. “Phobos and Deimos are the two progenitors of the Martian race. White Martians are monsters. 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?!” J'onn exploded with feeling.
“Because it's my native language!” Nikita replied, openly laughing at him.
“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 bowed at the waist and backed away from Nikita. “I...my name is... J'onn Jo'nzz. I must humbly beg your pardon.” He walked away without another word.
A couple of hours later, Jeremiah walked up the stairs and into the dining room. Where he saw J'onn sitting thoughtfully. “I'm hoping you can tell me. I don't know any of these people. These races.”
J'onn didn't mind. In fact he seemed rather pleased with the request. “Enkarens and Xavallens are sibling races to each-other. Enkarens are – genetically speaking in trouble – but also far superior to humans in most respects. Apparently, along with the Atraxi, they speak the same native language.”
Realization blanketed Jeremiah's face. “She doesn't make sense for an Enkaren.”
J'onn nodded. “Xavallens are a protected species. Their home-world became uninhabitable over 200 years ago. Most of them are nomadic. But some have assimilated, to varying degrees, into other cultures. Jeremiah. Well for one thing may I call you that?”
“Of course.”
“For 16 of the 23 major powers in these galaxies, if I had known what she was, my interrogation of her without cause against her, most especially without defiance sent would have been a crime.”
“Is that why this whole thing came screeching to a halt?”
J'onn looked at him rather oddly. When he spoke, his voice was soft and deliberate. “It came to a halt because I thought she was an Enkaren who you were keeping silent. Because in that moment,” He moved his hands out and apart like Jeremiah had done. “You proved yourself to be a GOOD man. And I realized I never should have laid a finger on you in the first place.”
“J'onn, you talk as if you've been a monster to us. You were nothing of the kind. You've been good, decent, kind, even hospitable to us since we woke up in your house. The rest of it was as much my fault as it was yours. And it's not like I didn't agree to this.”
A GOOD Man
(Jeremiah has overheard J'onn talking to Sarrin) It was five days later that I started really wondering what was going on. J'onn came to talk to us about once a day. He'd ask a hundred questions, give us lunch and dinner and then leave. This was after 2 weeks of taking one or the other of us away for private conversations that would last for hours. He'd either shove me against the wall or give me a blue jaw when he thought I was lying to him or being as racist as any human, but that was it. Beyond that he, actually took care of us. It was... I don't know what it was.
“Why do I get the impression you're making fun of me?”
“I suppose I am...a little bit.”
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”
“Even so, I'm having trouble making heads or tails of him.”
“And I'm pretty sure he's doing everything he can to make sense of us. Or more specifically, of me.” {J'onn comes in, mentions Nikita's human appearance and how well she keeps her temper in check – both sincere complimentary observations – gives them large glasses of potato curry soup and leaves}
“Okay, now I'm REALLY confused.”
“This simply cannot continue.” Nikita whispers. She turned to face the wall.
“Come with me, now.” J'onn told Nikita, who stood but did not move. “I'll not ask again.” J'onn insisted, taking a step toward her.
I got in front of her and raised arm out. “Leave her alone.” For a split second I thought he was going to backhand me or knock me to the floor. But he didn't move. “Whatever you have planned for her, take me instead.”
“For all you know I'm about to take and execute her. Do you still volunteer?”
“No, but I know you're not going to. Nikita was right if you wanted either of us dead, we'd be dead. If you wanted us hurt, we'd be beaten black and blue. What you want – the only thing you've wanted from us – is answers.”
“And it's about time I get them.” He grabbed Nikita by the wrist and started dragging her away. I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away from her.
“Your actions are as heroic as they are unwise.” He warned me.
“Sir, for almost a month now the three of us, most certainly the two of us have been remarkably civil to each-other...given our situation. You must have seen Nikita was as dedicated to my well-being as I was to her protection.” J'onn nodded his agreement. “By that token I tell you that if you hurt her again, my restraint will go so far out the window it leaves the atmosphere. I would certainly die trying to take you down. I have that amount of sense. But if you let her go...” I took a breath and put my arms out in front of me as if being arrested, then pulled them as far apart from each-other, stretched to either side as they could reach. “If you let her go you can do whatever you want to me___in payment of that debt.”
I must admit the speech did not have anything LIKE its intended result. Our host cast his eyes to the ground and backed away from me. “This surprises you.”
“Yes, what is she to you? Who is she to you?”
“Someone as precious to me as my own daughter. I don't expect you to understand; I barely understand. I will DIE before I let her come to harm. You will not hurt her.”
“You care for her?” he said in a strange voice.
“This surprises you?”
“I knew you felt responsible for her. This is...Who or what is she, to you?”
“Someone who was tortured for years by a man more blind than I have the words to express. Hank Henshaw was...was so convinced Nikita was an enemy and a liar. He tortured her to get her to reveal her true appearance and intentions. Basically he wanted her to show him the monster she really was underneath. But there was no monster. That she was a gentle and innocent soul should have been obvious. It was but he couldn't see it. I'd rather die than let her come to harm again. Sir, I can't pretend to understand you, but I swear on my life, if you let her go you can do whatever you want with me __ in payment of that debt.” This speech had far from its desired effect. J'onn backed away.
“I was wrong about you. I'm so sorry.”
“Okay...not what I expected to hear from you.”
“None of this was needful Sajen.” Nikita interjected. “It never was, was it?”
“No, no there wasn't.” He replied softly. He sounded like a schoolboy being dressed down for bad behavior. But Nikita wasn't finished.
“For someone who can read minds to determine true souls you're Deaf!”
“Nikita, help me understand this.”
“Both races of Martians are telepaths. I take it he doesn't read minds without permission but he should have asked. I would have given it!”
I turned to J'onn. “You're a telepath?”
“Yes, but unlike her kind I don't pick up continuous transmissions. I can read you mind if I choose. But, she is right. I do not do so without permission.”
'A comedy of errors with little funny about it.' I thought to myself.
“If this had gone on any longer 'Deimos pah, Tarek Nit-cha.' would have been the next thing out of my mouth. Or are you Phobos?”
“Do you know what they are?”
“I know that - 'in the early days of Mars there were two brothers, Phobos and Deimos. Their rivalry and bloodshed was the reason for the split of the Green and White Martians.' I learned that Phobos were barbaric. Creech-ta if not Crishnaka-Sareth. I just never knew who came from whom.” I must have had a VERY confused look on my face because Nikita turned to me. “What you thought Hank was and who he was are the best exampled. He was an ignorant arrogant asshole, if not an ambassador of hell. That's what the two words mean, in my language.”
Something seemed to click in J'onn's brain. “How can you be speaking the Enkaren language so flawlessly if you are not yourself Enkaren?”
“Because it's my native language as well.”
“What?”
“Atraxi, Enkarens and Xavallens all share the same language. No more than 3,000 years ago we were the same race!” J'onn stepped toward Nikita and brushed his fingers over her temples. I figured his friend had markings there.
“I must humbly beg your pardon.” He said sadly.
“Okay, now I'm lost.”
“No more so than I.”
“Xavallens are different from any of us. In that they offer bread before peace or a sword. But also they don't fight for their own life, not as quickly as they fight for a strangers. Compared to Enkarens, they are friars and Philosophers.”
“Hank struck me across the face. That is ALL he did and it was all that was needed. Nikita broke out of the machine, slammed Hank against the wall and with her forearm across his throat, told him he should listen to my perceptive comments. Then pulled herself back. Got on her knees and waited to be taken back to her cell.”
“I'd guessed why you were so passionate about protecting her. Until now I didn't understand why she was at least as adamant about protecting you. She saw you as Alana-Kai.” I smiled at him. “It means something like guardian or protector.”
“I'm sorry but I don't understand the connection.”
“Enkarens and Xavallens are sibling races to each-other. Enkarens are formidable and just. Xavallens and Enkarens probably don't look like each-other anymore. But they still speak the same language.”
I recognized the meaning. “And she doesn't make sense for an Enkaren.”
“If I had known what she was...” He seemed at a loss for words. “Xavallens are a protected species. Laying a finger on her to get you to talk or the other way around is a crime. And I must beg her forgiveness.”
“Sir, I confess I still 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. Besides, it was as much my fault as yours. And as much my CHOICE as hers.”
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