Unmistakably a Sanctuary

This alternate contains an alternate. And both are better.

When their captor comes in to take Hank away, Jeremiah offers an alternative.

“No please, take me.” Jeremiah Danvers said in a rush. The alien warrior lowered his fist. “I might not like him very much, but I cannot let this continue. We have rules even in plain war. you don't keep hacking at a man after he's down. He's no longer any threat to you. If for no other reason than to prove you're better than us - better than him, leave him be."

“I do not understand what you are suggesting. Please elaborate.”

Jeremiah hesitated for a moment. "He has a beacon on him to activate in emergency and call for extraction. Activate the beacon and leave him as he is...or drop him off somewhere. Agents from our organization will find him. I'll go with you."

“You would give up your freedom for this man's life?” He said, mystified.

“For his freedom AND his life...yes. And to be completely open, I'd rather not go back. If you let me go with you...well you'd be doing exactly that. In a way you'd be giving me a new life. And almost certainly a better one.”

“Stop this!" The alien raised his fist, relenting from his assault. “Is this how you prove your superiority? Attacking a defenseless solider?”

“You defend him, why? Who is he to you?”

“He is my commanding officer. I make no excuses for his actions nor my own. He's no longer any threat to you, leave him alone. We have rules even in plain war, you don't kick a man when he's down. If for no other reason than to prove you're better than us...better than him...leave him be.” My words must have made an impact because he stepped away from us. 'You are a strange one, whoever you are.' I heard the man say. Although I'm not entirely sure he said it.

“I'd be happy to never see his like again. But I cannot trust that you would leave me alone. I cannot simply let you go.”

“You don't want him anywhere near you. I understand. I hope that...Do you have the same problem with me?” The stranger stepped closer to me, almost like he was taking my measure. Trying to determine the kind of person I was and what he thought of me. I found myself rather drawn to the man. I saw something almost noble about him. He was a solider and an experienced one at that. He had seen enough battle to value life. “You, I have no problem with.” He said finally.

“Then let him go. I'll stay.”

“I honestly do not understand what you are trying to say.”

“I'm asking that you let him go. He has a beacon in his vest pocket. Let our people find him and bring him home. But don't let them find me here.”

“You would give up your freedom for this man's life?” He said quietly.

“For his freedom and his life, yes.”

He seemed mystified anyone would make that sacrifice for another.  Indeed he was looking at me with such a strange, almost incredulous expression I had to fight to keep from laughing at him. Looking a little harder at his green skin I realized he was surprised a human solider would so willingly surrender themselves to the not so tender care of an alien. And that I had to find a way to assure him of my grasp of the situation, as much as my sincerity. “For his safety and freedom. I swear to you on anything that would matter, if you will not only let him Live but let him Go, you can take me. I will not leave and I will not fight. I take my oath on it.” He bent down, put the back of his hand to Hank's temple and stood up.

"Activate the beacon and let's get out of here."

We walked for a couple of hours, headed southeast near as I could tell. Eventually we came to what might have been an old schoolhouse. Inside there was a coffee table, a floor lamp and a makeshift mattress propped up on cinder blocks. “I hope you'll be comfortable here. There's a lavatory over the breezeway. I have a friend I must visit before sundown.”

“Thank you.” I said in a rush.

“ I should be thanking you.” He quipped. And left without another word.

The next morning he came back. I stood the instant he walked into the room. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable. “I do not know...I don't intend...” He stammered.

I realized he had misinterpreted my overture.

“I'm sorry. I stood at attention every time Hank entered the room. Old habits die hard.”

“A sign of respect or fear?”

“Respect, for his authority and position. He was my superior offic... I do not FEAR you. Of that you may be assured.”

“Then please, no unneeded courtesy or ceremony. It comes off as pretense.”

“Take your own advice.” He actually smiled at me. Btu didn't say anything else. I realized the ball was still in my court. “Do I intimidate You?” I asked him.

“Confuse me, yes. I can tell there is more to you than most. You are, as Sarrin would no doubt say, 'a glorious exception'.”

“You mean I'm better than most humans you know?”

“Exactly that. Shall we have an exchange of truths?”

“I'm game.”

“Tell me why you are so unshaken by me.”

“I'm rather familiar with at least one very cool alien. Two if you count my adopted son. And not all the aliens the D.E.O. encountered were hostiles to be caged. Something we took to heart and took into account when we worked. For whatever reason we honestly thought you were a threat. Your physical appearance had nothing to do with it. Even if it did? I can trust the evidence of my eyes.”

“So you trust me not to be your jailer.”

“I'm not sure how to take that actually. And it isn't intimidation you are sensing from me as much as...uncertainty. I don't know what to expect.”

“I don't intend to treat you as any sort of captive Jeremiah. I never did. You are ___my guest. As welcome here as myself.”

“Would I seem ungrateful to ask why you are being so kind to me?” Jean gave a start. “I wasn't an eager participant but I WAS on a mission to kill you.”

“I've lived on this planet for 300 years and you were the first human to treat me as an equal, knowing who I really was. My race are shape-shifters. If I wanted to I could look like your commanding officer. I've looked human for most of my time on your planet. You and Henshaw are the first humans in more than 50 years to see me as I truly am FIRST. You didn't fear me. Actually, I don't think either of you were particularly afraid of me.”

“Hank is narrow-minded and stubborn. But even he isn't as bad as people think.” Suddenly I felt like hanging my head. “I owe you an apology. I do not understand how but we were VERY wrong about you. And I am sorry.”

"Jeremiah, well for one thing may I call you that?"

"Of course."

"Jeremiah. You're different. I've lived on this planet 300 years and you are the first human to speak to me as an equal, seeing me in my true appearance. If I didn't have just as high an opinion of you, you wouldn't be here."

“What is this place?” I asked him.

“A...a place that you have to see for yourself. Are you ready?”

In this Earth, Jeremiah broke Nikita out of the D.E.O after working there for almost 5 years and seeing no-thing that would indicate she was an enemy. Also Jeremiah is Superman's human father. Didn't want to give that away.

Arias means 'place of safety'

Sanctuary is a misnomer. It's explained somewhere in the story that the word 'Sanctuary' itself is understood differently in the native language of various aliens who live in the self-made community called Arias. But the word Arias conveys the idea of sanctuary in the most universal applications: 'Set apart' and 'peaceful'. The strange thing is, because the mission Jeremiah and Hank were on happened the way it did, the Department of Extra-normal Operations in this universe lives up to that name as well, for Director Hank Henshaw and Xavallen named Nikita.

One thing that ABSOLUTELY needs understood is that Hank Henshaw was never the ignorant arrogant A-hole he usually is. Hank Henshaw was generally already a bit of a racist prick before becomign Cyborg Superman. the only reason he tolerated Superman was because he looked human and didn't look like a freak. Here he was single-minded and ignorant, but also level-headed and duty-bound.  Something both Jeremiah and Nikita make mention of.

“No please, take me.” Jeremiah Danvers said in a rush. The alien warrior lowered his fist. “Listen I might not care for him but he is my commanding officer and I cannot let him come to harm. Leave him here. Let us, you and I go away, someplace we can't be found. It's a strange way to start a new life but 'a new life' is what I've been seeking the past six years of my life.”

“”I am not sure what you are saying. What are you suggesting?”

“Listen if we are going to do this, we should learn each-others names.”

“That is polite even among enemies.” The alien said quickly.

“My name is Jeremiah Danvers.” The agent said, placing his hand over his heart.

“I am...J'onn Jo'nzz.”

“Jean. I give you my word, I promise, if you give him his freedom as well as his life then without your instruction to the contrary I will not leave your side. He has a tracker on him, a beacon to activate in emergency and call for extraction. Activate the beacon and leave him as he is, our people...agents from our organization will find him; he will be alright. You can't be here when they come. To tell the truth I'd rather not be here either.”

The alien bent over Hank Henshaw and put the back of his hand against the man's temples. He closed his eyes briefly before righting himself. Without turning around he said “Then we should get out of here.” Two silent hours later Jeremiah came to a clearing in the middle of the mountains. There was little around as far as structures. Just what looked like an old one-room school house and a few houses with flat roofs made out of red clay. With a wave of his green hand J'onn motioned his companion into the school house. The room was sparsely furnished but quite comfortable. A cot was set up on cinder blocks with lightweight sheets and fluffy white pillows on it. A low set table and a short bookshelf stood off the one side. “I hope you'll be comfortable here. I have to go see a friend. There's more of us here than you realize.”

“Thank you.” Jeremiah said in a heartfelt tone.

“I get the feeling I should be thanking you.” And with that he was gone.

In the middle of the next afternoon J'onn came back and Jeremiah instantly got to his feet. J'onn looked almost disquieted at the courtesy. “Do your people have a word for being able to move freely throughout the premises as long as you do not leave the premises?”

“...House arrest.” Jeremiah said.

“Then I suppose 'house arrest' is the best description. You are not my prisoner. I do not intend to treat you as any sort of captive. I...am sorry if that's what you expected. I would hope we could treat and regard each-other as equals. You were the first human to treat me as an equal, seeing me as I really am.”

“And you would prefer that we remain equals and not frightened fo one-another. I would like that as well. I didn't expect to be a hostage. I just wasn't sure...who or what to expect if you understand me. Does that mean I can soon see the rest of this place?”

" 'The rest of this place' is what I came here to show you."

D.E.O. Revelations

“I thought we were a little overdue for a chat.” The young woman said to the solemn, dark-skinned man at her door. “Well, in or out choose one.”

“I rather deserve that. We need to have a serious talk.” A shiver went up Nikita's spine.

“I'm sorry; it still kinda gives me the chills when you talk like that.”

“I'm surprised it doesn't make you want to punch something...especially me.”

“Hank, what exactly are you here to hear from me? We both know there is a pretty serious animal in the room, but what do you think that animal looks like...a tiger or an elephant?”

“Well that's actually what I'm asking...If I understand you correctly there is definitely some giant beast that's stopping us from solving a damn problem. If it is not a frightened dog -- and I can tell it is not -- why is it not a tigress? And why is it not turning on its kidnappers? Nikita I really mean it...why don't you hate me?”

“I have no reason on the face of this earth to hate you Hank. And I have nothing to fear from you anymore. Aside from the fact that hate is useless, I can sense everything that makes you who you are. The essence or core of a person, a soul I guess it's called. I don't mean an immortal thing. It isn't of everyone but I've spent enough time around you I can hear your proverbial heart. There is nothing in you now that even resembles what I sensed from you before...the person you were when you and I used to sit here and have those endless debates. I cannot hold who you were over the man you are now. It's actually against my own scriptures to do so.”

“Were you a priest on your planet?” Hank looked shocked and stupefied and a couple other things at once. “I'm sorry but everyday Christians don't hold so unswervingly or effortlessly to Christian teachings. Only those with religious training or holy orders so devotedly follow, even our own 'scriptures'. Are you the equal to a Franciscan friar?”

“Only in so far as the teachings in our holy book resemble closely what I have read in your Bible. And it's one of a very few things I have of my culture of origin. I never attended church back home. I would have if I'd had the liberty, I wasn't given that opportunity. I wasn't a prisoner I was...a shameful secret. I stayed at home, read books, watched holo-vids and read The Good Book over and over again. I KNOW the ten tales that comprise my peoples most sacred book. The only good thing that came from being hidden away is how easily I can follow the star in my own heart, and live as I would be taught....even without the Basic Instructions By Light Eternal. On my desk.”

“I've heard the Bible called Basic Instruction Before...You call your scriptures that?”

“We read them by lamplight and they are the light that guides our way as we journey along through life. We don't argue about what the afterlife looks like and there is never any doubt that one exists–Yeah, I didn't mean the Bible. Although from what I've read, even though it gets drown out a lot, the Ten Certain Tales are found in your Bible as well. Hank you've made the conscious choice to be different, to be better than you were before. More than that you have succeeded. You ARE a man a million times better than who you were. I will not hold onto that hot coal just waiting for you to backslide so I can stone you with it. I realize I am mixing A-ton of metaphors here, but they fit. From my perspective holding your past self against the man standing in front of me right now is not only stupid, it's morally wrong. Hate is as painful as it is destructive, and completely useless. The fires of the past hurt like hell, why would I choose to keep them burning?”

“Forgotten, but not gone?” Hank Henshaw said mildly.

“Oh trust me, this shrap still hurts...I just don't let it dig into my back.”

Light of Heaven

 “Why are you hassling me?” Nicholas asked of the bald solider in front of him.

“Just wanting to see a fighting spirit.” The man replied.

“I have one, and when I have a reason to show it, I do. But you should be grateful I have governed it.” Nicholas turned away, to examine a stall selling cooking powders. Apparently he considered the entire conversation quite over with.

“Hey scoundrel!” The man called out. A few heads turned briefly.

“Were you addressing me sir?” a Muslim said mildly.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

“I am not alone I am with my...It would make no difference; you seek a fight.”

“Quite perceptive. And I sense, you are something other than a coward.”

“I should be angry with you if time were convenient.” The man replied with a hint of warning in his voice.

“If time were convenient? How is it not convenient?” A small crowd of on-lookers gathered as the Frenchman shoved the Saracen several times. Until...

“LEAVE. HIM. ALONE!”

Nicholas was glaring at the solider, his wide eyes suddenly over-bright. “You couldn't get satisfaction from me, so you turn around and hassle whoever happens to be nearby? Someone you fine it easier to provoke into fighting? I don't know if that is cowardice or idiocy. Either way your issue is with me so leave him out of it.”

“So you are capable of fighting? More, you are willing to. It is, surprising. Who is he to you that you stand up for him when you would not even stand up for yourself?”

“I kept my temper in check to avoid lowering myself to your level. Nothing to prove. Not to one who indiscriminately fights for the sake of itself. Then you turn and hassle a friend of mine for no other reason than your belief that he would be an easier target. That is quite different. That I will fight you for. And you will regret it.”

A few onlookers gave nods of approval at Nicholas subtly calling his opponent an impulsive idiot. Nasir himself was thunderstruck. The Saracen was not alone, he was with his master, Nicholas. For many weeks he had served under this strange Christian lord. A man who refused to keep a slave and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. In the weeks he'd spent at the man's side, Nicholas had never treated him with anything other than respect and consideration. To here his master, a man to whom he had freely offered his allegiance declare him his friend was unanticipated. Until this moment it had been nothing but an understanding between them. The instant it was known that he was the man's servant Nicholas would have been vindicated. After all, Nicholas was responsible for his care and protection as well as his conduct. Yet Nicholas had risen to defend him declaring him his friend, not his servant at all. Nasir did his best to keep a passive face and an even tone as he addressed the stranger.

“You are so eager to fight, you do not consider your enemy nor the field. If there is only one thing I have learned about Nicholas, it is how difficult it is to provoke him. And how quickly you regret it when you do.”

Nasir Please.” Nicholas snapped in Arabic.

“Well, it seems this game has gone on long enough, wouldn't you agree?” A man named Balian asked, stepping between them.

Nicholas, who had placed his hand on his sword, immediately dropped his hand. And dropped his head just as quickly. “I am sorry Milord. I did not realize...”

“I was talking to Almaric.” Balian said, astounded. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Neither did he. Except be a little to eager to fight. My friend and I should be on our way, please.” At this point Almaric could not keep the look of shock from his face. Then again, neither could anyone else who was paying attention.

“Are you sincerely asking for my permission to withdraw?” Balian inquired.

“No Milord. I am suggesting that you do not ask Nasir or I any further questions and do not follow after us seeking explanations. Nasir was suggesting that you should judge whether or not you can win a fight before trying to start one. I am merely agreeing with his very sound advice.” Almaric started to apologize, Nicholas held up his hand. “When I came to the Holy Land, I wanted nothing but to be left alone and at peace. With the exception of Nasir's company, I hold to that.” He smiled faintly, as if there was a story behind his words.

“As you please.” Balian replied with admiration in his voice.

“Milord, forgive me I do not ask your name. I hope to see you again, at a better time.”

“As do I Monsieur... Milord.”

Nicholas and Nasir bowed deeply to the two men and walked away without a word.

Later that evening Naser walked, confused and uncertain into Nicholas private room.

“I take it you have something to ask me?” The man said, staring out into nothing.

For the first time in Nicholas memory, Naser refrained from dropping his head.

“Why would you do that?”

“I'm used to people judging me. I've learned to choose my battles.”

“So I have come to realize. That is not what I'm asking. Why would you call me your friend?”

“Be-cause I consider you my friend. Why does that need explaining? Naser, two truths are possible. You're my servant. That is, true and it is so. But I count you my friend and I was speaking my own truth. You may hide your own worth, I refuse to.”

“You, are a remarkable individual.”

“Nasir, believe me I fully understand why everyone thought I was somehow brave for what I said. I don't count myself brave for what I said, simply honest. Do you understand me?”

“I think I am finally beginning to.” Nasir admitted. “May I ask a personal question?”

“Nasir, we ARE alone here.”

“That Christian lord, I've never seen you look down to someone like that before. It was as if -you couldn't have been afraid of him- it was like you didn't want to offend him.”

“He is different. Like you or I he is... he is worth it. I don't know how else to say that.”

Chris Pike and Sarrin Chal

The two foreign languages Sarrin's people speak are -in real life- Dutch and Punjabi. In the context of the story, they are different dialects of Tzenkethi speech. I wish it made sense for them to speak Xavallen. Which is the language Nikita, Elana and the Atraxi Sarrin speak in my D.E.O. stories. Also while I have written the end of the story...decided on it at least, I have yet to type it up. Watned to see if people could guess it/see it coming.

She was staring at him. Reclined on her sofa, hand at her mouth, she stared at him with acute interest as he struggled to break free of his handcuffs.

“Do you enjoy watching people struggle?” He demanded finally.

“When I see a human, they usually do not struggle for long.” She replied easily. The fur around her mouth twitching in delight. She stood up and sauntered closer to his cell. “Human behavior is inexplicable. Even if you get the restraints off you will still be imprisoned by the force barrier.” She rubbed her thumb against her fingers. “Why do you bother?”

“'We can't give up on hope...to do so is to give up on life itself'. Old Mojave wisdom.”

“Mojave, is that a race or a region?”

“A region.” He answered with some surprise.

She sat back on her sofa and began twirling a thin rope, looking not unlike a cat playing with a long blade of grass. “You are a curious one.” She continued lazily. “I've been here 70 years and have never met a human like you. It is a pity imperial law does not allow for exceptions.”

“How do you mean?”

“More inclined to ask questions before punching. More prone to defiance than pleading.”

“I'm not certain why I should be...” She pinched the rope with the flat of her thumb and his body instantly seized, as if someone had taken hold of his back and yanked upward.

“You do not seem to understand much of anything. It is...most curious actually.”

She lifted the rope as if examining the end and he felt dizzy, light-headed, as if floating in the air.

She pressed her claw into the rope and suddenly Chris felt the point of a sword against his throat. He knew that if she dug her claw into the fabric of the rope, he would feel the sword slicing his vocal cords.

“Please...” She dropped the rope. Instantly the pain ceased. To his surprise he wasn't even breathing hard.

“Kochalk Mir-ach.” A harsh voice uttered from behind her. “Are you done playing with your food?!” the voice insisted.

“I'm well aware of my duties.” She snapped, apparently to thin air. “I will leave him for the officers.” Then she was gone.

Chris shook his head as if to clear it. He sat back on the stone ledge that was meant to be his bed. Something was incredibly wrong. He did not know what. One thought troubled him more than anything: How can I tell them what the hell I'm doing here, if I don't even know what the hell I'm doing here?

When next he opened his eyes he had a new visitor. One that was not as clearly female as his prior guard and who quite clearly was a person of authority.

“You've made quite an impression there human.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“It is what you are, for starters. Now tell me who you are.”

“My name is Captain Christopher Pike.” The man said almost professionally.

“A captain? That is unusual. Captain of what ship?”

“The USS Enterprise.”

“Impossible. There has not been a human captain of that ship for decades.”

This female, if it was a female, had darker orange fur on her paws and her face had streaks of black. Her voice was smoother than the other guard, reflecting maturity and experience.

“And what is your name.” Christopher intoned.

“I am Solivar.” The officer replied simply. It could not be doubted she was an officer in whatever star-fleet she served. She stared at him impassively for several minutes.

“What is it?” He asked shortly.

“I'm trying to decide what use to make of you.”

“I take it you're not used to troubling yourself with human prisoners?”

“You would be incorrect. Although I admit I find you more intriguing than most.”

Her lieutenant stepped forward. She raised her hand sharply. “Da, dobro znam što biste učinili s njim. da je bilo po vašem. Ali moja volja prevladava.” Her subordinate backed away.

“That pup had his ideas what to do with me?” Christopher guessed.

“Quite right. But my will prevails on such matters.”

“So what are you planning on doing with me?” 'God this feels freakishly familiar!'

“Bring Sarrin back. See what she can learn. And if she's as ready as she believes ” Solivar turned to the 'pup'. “Stay here until she returns; do not touch him.”

“Why are you bothering to speak in English?”

“I see no reason to hide this part of our intentions from you.” Solivar answered.

“How considerate of you.” He did not say this with sarcasm, simply acknowledging the truth of his statement. These people were thoughtful, in their own way.

Sarrin, as was apparently her name, stared hard at her prisoner. There was a sharpness, a set seriousness to her face. She sipped from an ornate white mug.

“I take it this is not a 'carrot and stick' situation?” The man said from inside his cell.

“Your words make no sense to me.” She replied shortly.

“Are you Sarrin?” The woman nodded. “Is it your function to try to coax answers out of me gently while your superior tries to force them out of my throat.”

“I see your meaning. You want to know if I am being falsely nice, if I am simply playing with you. In other words if my restraint and interest are merely a facade.”

“I wouldn't have put it quite that way, but yes.”

“I am trying to study you. I want you to make sense to me. That is my motivation.”

“I am going to assume English is not your first language.”

“What is 'English'?”

“Ah...nevermind.”

“Did they not give you anything to eat yet?” Sarrin inquired. Chris shook his head. She began tapping on her console. “I'm going to give you some lombark meal.” A thick brown mug, wider and taller than her own appeared on the table in front of her. She looked up at him sharply. “You have to get to the back of that cell or I can't feed you.” Chris stood against the side wall of his cell and placed his hands against the back wall. “It'll only be half a day's ration.” She continued as if there had been no interruption. She slid the mug across the floor, it stopped just inside the cell. He picked up the mug and looked at the thick brown liquid inside it.

“You're not drinking coffee are you?” He asked with a light humor.

“No. I'm not sure what you'd call this. It's a drinkable food. Liquid bread?

“Military rations?” Chris guessed. Sarrin did not reply. Chris drank half of the mug in peaceful silence. No small feat when ones hands are bound. “Thank you.” He offered kindly.

“Welcome.” Sarrin returned. She sat on her sofa and began fingering the rope again.

“Why are you doing this?” Chris urged.

“Surely you're intelligent enough to figure that out.” Sarrin answered, almost playfully.

“I don't mean your kind, I mean you personally. Your compatriot was wrong. You are not playing with your food. You don't even want to be doing this. So why are you?”

“I'm not obliged to tell you anything. Although I will admit you continue to surprise me.

Eventually I WILL figure out what makes you so frustratingly unique.”

“Don't you mean 'frustratingly defiant'?”

“That's not the only thing that makes you so..To-Ka!” Sarrin barked, holding her hand out to him, palm flat as if commanding him to stop. Which he quickly realized is exactly what she was doing. “Do yourself a favor, don't try anything.” She told him sternly. She reached to her left, pressing her palm flat against the arm of the sofa. The 'force barrier' was restored.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Chris inquired. “Leaving the barrier down.”

“No.” Sarrin answered simply. “I am surprised you didn't try to escape.”

“I won't lie and tell you it didn't cross my mind. But I was a little distracted.”

“Your honesty is refreshing. It usually requires much encouragement to get a straight-forward answer out of our prisoners.”

“Okay, I'm not kidding here, what do you want from us?!” Chris near-barked.

“ 'Us'?” Sarrin replied.

“Me. What do you want from me.” Chris rushed, covering.

“You said 'us'. Are there more like you? There are. Your concern for them is evident. How many more of you are there?” Chris did not answer. She wrapped her hand around the rope. Still Chris did not speak. “How many humans came with you? Surely you must realize there are things that make this,” She lifted the rope gently. Chris braced himself, but no pain came. “feel like a slap on the wrist.” She pulled gently on the rope until it stretched taunt. Chris's throat tightened as he felt his arms bent backward. All she would have to do was pull a little farther and the tendons in his shoulders would pull themselves apart, as his arms were torn even farther back...As far as his body was concerned. And his mind would agree. Or was it the other way around? As if reading the question from his mind, Sarrin explained. “It's called traumatic hypnosis. Your mind imagines that I hurt you and your body responds to its signals. Quite effective, yes?” Chris didn't respond except to nod. Sarrin unceremoniously dropped the rope again. She leaned to her right. Her eyes closed.

“May I ask you a question?” Chris said with sincere respect.

“You mean beyond that one? You can ask.”

“Is Solivar testing you?”

“In a way. They wanted to see how I would handle an interrogation, what methods I would employ and how long I could stay here. It's more like taking a final exam in order to accept promotion than testing my loyalty. The only thing is, I can't think of any questions to ask you. None that can't wait 4 hours anyway.” She yawned.

“Ne napuštajte svoju stanicu!” A harsh voice said over the intercom.

“Who said I was leaving?” Sarrin replied in English. The doors sealed themselves and the lights dimmed to half their intensity. “TAC: 2-3-9 seventy-four Alpha Orion-3. I set the room at 74 degrees. It's all I can really do to make you comfortable.” Sarrin explained as she stretched herself on the floor her feet toward Chris' cell, her head toward the couch, her left-leg bent so her foot was flat on the tile. “Kether Prax. Nox.” The room went completely dark. Chris lay down with his eyes to the ceiling. His gaze drifted to Sarrin. Is this a test from her? Does she expect me to try to run? She wants to see if I will try to run. Is it a good idea. Probably not. Do I want to get her into trouble? I don't think so. It is strange, I would expect a feline to lie on her side with all fours on the ground, or on her stomach like a cheetah. Not on her back like that. 'she doesn't' live on all fours' his mind answered itself. 'She's sleeping in such a way that she can jump to her feet in an instant if alarmed or startled. She's resting, not sleeping...'at the ready'.

All of this he said in his head and all of which made sense to him.

“Captain Pike, are you there?” La'an's voice was barely perceptible in the muffled air. Her voice was coming from somewhere to Chris' left.

“Over here.” He whispered urgently.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I'm fine. In a cell, otherwise I'm fine.”

“Do Not. Move.” Sarrin's cold voice rang out.

'Of course. Sarrin was waiting for this. Knowing there were others on this ship with me, they would wait for someone to try to rescue me. And cats see much better in the dark than humans.'

“TAC. Lagan, mekan, ali jasan.” The lights came on. Sarrin was staring hard at La'an, her face impassive as before. “For your own sake human, do. Not. Move.” Sarrin repeated.

La'an followed the woman's very sound advice and held herself still.

“I congratulate you. This was a most impressive trap.” Chris said with a little bitterness.

Sarrin did not even spare him a glance. “Tar-ek dahl. No senta Ca-rine Me-tai.” A few moments later another guard came in.

“Herinner mij eraan om nooit aan jouw wijsheid te twijfelen.” The guard said to Sarrin.

“You might as well speak in their language.” Sarrin said in English.

“Waar sturen ze die idioten heen, naar die bevroren woestenij die is gereserveerd voor hen die hun plichten niet hebben vervuld?” The guard replied.

“Hell. And I take your meaning.” Sarrin answered instantly.

“Translation please?” Chris prompted respectfully.

“He asked what was the name of the frozen wasteland traitors and liars are sent to.”

“Hell isn't a frozen..”

“I take his meaning. Hell would freeze over before he spoke our language for our benefit.”

La'an turned to Sarrin. “What is your name and what have you done to my captain?”

“He really is a captain of a starship. Interesting. Other than arresting his movement slightly, we have done nothing to him.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“No, she's telling the truth. I've been in the cell 3 days and they forgot to give me my ration last night. Beyond that they haven't really done anything to me.”

“Wat zullen we met deze andere doen?” The guard inquired, indicating the female human. Sarrin replied in a long string of her native language, lifting her arm in front of her, with her fingers raised, as if holding a snow globe. The guard smiled. “Duur?”

Sarrin tilted her head, considering the question. “TAC: What is the clock?”

“The time is 0-seven hundred hours.”

“Five.” Sarrin decided. “But not yet. What is your name?”

“La'an.” The human woman answered honestly.

“La'an. That is not a normal human name?” Sarrin pondered. “Not that it matters. How many more of you are there?” Neither human spoke. Sarrin turned to the human she found so fascinating. 

“KRIS! How many more humans like you are there here?”

“My entire crew is 'like me'. As far as I know, La'an is the only one to come with me.”

Sarrin tilted her head to one side. “This I judge to be true. Harsh though we can be, we are not liars. Therefore it is all the harder to deceive us. La'an, my lieutenant is going to take you to a very small room. Resist and you might not see your captain again.”

“You can trust her on that.” Chris advised.

La'an was led away by the guard.

“Are you an exception or a specialist?” Chris prompted.

“Explain.”

“You are more inclined to ask questions before punching. And accustomed to both defiance and pleading. You don't seem to have much of a stomach for outright interrogation or torture. Are you...an outcast among your people or simply of a different caste?”

Sarrin dipped her smallest finger into a bottle of oil, spread its oil under her nose and across her left wrist. “more of the second one. Some aliens respond to force, some to reasoned persuasion and some take some time figuring out to learn an approach that will help. That is my occupation. Studying our enemies helps us to understand them and my superiors understand that. But studying our enemies isn't all we do here.”

“Why do you call us your enemies?”

“I mean studying humans. It's not something that requires particular effort or attention or time. We've had ample chances already and understand them thoroughly. ___ Or so we thought until you showed up. I'm not a wounded heart or anything.”

“Bleeding heart.” Christopher corrected automatically.

“You were right you know?”

“About what?”

“You did not get your ration last night.” She placed her hand on the table, which he noticed stretched the lentgh between her sofa and his cell. “Nosiette. Ca-rinn tomai-dahl.” A large mug of the 'liquid bread' appeared in front of her. This had an aroma of hazelnut to it. She motioned him to back away. He did, his back against one wall, his hands against another, as before. She placed the mug on the floor and stepped back, keeping her eyes on him, more specifically, on his shoulders to his waist. The force barrier was again restored. She put the bottle back on the table and stretched herself on the floor much like she had done, except her feet were toward the sofa, her head was toward his cell and she was on her side.

Almost 40 minutes passed in this way.

“Where did you send her? Please I don't care what recompense you demand for it, just tell me what's happening to her.” Sarrin took a breath and let it out slowly. “I take your meaning. You want me to calm down. I'll try. Please will you tell me what is happening to my second officer?”

“She is being HELD in a very small space where all she can see is the ceiling.” Sarrin held up her hand, fingers apart but pointed upward, elbow bent. Pike now saw the similarity between that pose and holding something in you hand, high above your head.

“She is on a pedestal high enough in the air there is little space between her and the ceiling.” Chris reasoned. “And will remain so for at least 5 hours.”

“We will check on her every five hours. But the point of the zero room is that she has nothing to see and nothing to hear. What happens to her after her second check in is up to you. Do you fully grasp my meaning?”

Chris nodded sadly. “Her continued safety is entirely dependent on my continued cooperation.”

"And you don't have to ask. We definitely should take a break."

"For a scientist you're a pretty good diplomat."

"Candor and realism. Make for good tools for a scientist as well. And I deal with as many aliens as a politician would. Probably more.”

"Noted." Chris slid down to the floor and sat with his back against the wall, facing the alien scientist who had very nearly become his companion. The handcuffs still got in the way.

“You were right you before. It would be useless for me to get the restraints off if I'm still stuck behind the force barrier. But that trusts both ways. The handcuffs are unnecessary if the force barrier is activated.”

“Is this 'I speak only as freely as my bonds allow'?”

“If you want to look at it that way. I'm just saying that if you don't need them for anything except to make sure I don't escape...you don't need them.” Sarrin stared at him. “I didn't know if they served any function other than as restraints. If there was some kind of...inflictor.” Sarrin took a small, bullet shaped device from her belt, about as long as Chris' index finger and pressed the tip. The handcuffs released themselves and slid to the floor.

"Again, I thank you.”

“Is there anything else you want...”

“If you are sincerely asking..”

“Don't ev-er doubt my sincerity.” Sarrin barked.

“My apologies. May I have something to drink, something cool to my throat?”

“You know the language of diplomacy. You speak in terms you know I understand.”

“It helps to be talking to someone who's just as good at it.”

“Toren Kall. Notsanta E-Se-kaia nesta-Zaki.” Sarrin said to thin air.

“Which means exactly what?”

“I asked my attendant to bring me a human drink from the cooler.”

Sarrin did not speak and Chris did not speak to her until the attendant came in carrying a purple glass, translucent and cone shaped. She put the cup to her lips. “Dasar bodoh. Keluar dari sini, sekarang! Gėrimas iš vynuogių, o ne iš grūdų. Šį kartą tai padaryk teisingai!”

Sarrin's attendant came in with two cone-shaped purple glasses in his hands. Sarrin took one of the glasses and put it to her lips. “Dasar! Dasar bodoh Keular dari sini, se Karang!”

Her subordinate looked at her with increased respect. Her prisoner looked at her as if she were insane. “Do I WANT to know what you just said?” Chris asked, with a small bit of apprehension.

“It roughly translates to 'You idiot, you brought me the wrong one!' I asked for a drink made from grapes, not one made from grains.”

“You're entire race are truth-speakers, aren't you?”

“Our soldiers are yes. It's part of our military code of honor. And I take it you have a particular question you wish to ask me.”

“Yes. What you're doing with your hand...flexing your fingers, rubbing your thumb against your fingertips. Do all of your people do that?”

“Those who have seen combat, who lived in environments not suitable to our kind. The planetary conditions of most worlds we investigate are not entirely compatible with our biology. After weeks and months of exposure to barely habitable environments our bones... hurt.” Sarrin looked sad for a moment. It was a curious expression to see in her features. “And I really should not be the one sharing information.”

“I understand. But one thing more. 'investigate', you mean for colonization?”

“Yes. Now get some sleep. You will need your strength tomorrow. Trust me on that.”

“At this point it wouldn't occur to me not to trust you.”

Seven decades.” Chris said suddenly. “When we first met you said you'd 'been here for seven decades and have never encountered anything else'. What year is this?”

“By your calendar it would be 2571.”

Christopher Pike swallowed hard.

Jeremiah Gains Wisdom

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.

“I can tell what you're thinking.” Nikita said to me.

“Why do you think he changed tactics?”

“I told him it would be practical and more efficient to talk to us both at the same time. And that it was the only way you could know he wasn't trying anything...stupid. Since I wouldn't exactly admit to you if he were. I mean, I wouldn't. So now he talks to US.

“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 – 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. “Leave her alone!” He raised his hand as if to backhand me, but dropped his arm in the last moment. “Whatever you have planned for her, take me instead.”

“And if I'm about to take her away 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 either of 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.

“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...not the hard, stern man I saw in him. He 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. It was the most obvious thing in the world that she was a gentle and innocent soul. 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, I must admit, had far from its desired effect. J'onn actually backed away from me.

        “I was wrong about you. I'm SO sorry.”

“None of this was needful Sajen.” Nikita interjected. “It never was, was it?”

“No, no there wasn't.” I swear he sounded like a schoolboy getting dressed down for bad behavior. But Nikita wasn't finished. “For someone who can read our minds to determine the truth of our souls, you are surprisingly Deaf!”

“Nikita, help me understand this.”

“I think he was 15 degrees off about me and I'm pretty sure I was at least 30 degrees off about him. But all...you had to do was ask. I would have permitted it.”

“You're a telepath?” I said, turning to the stranger.

“Yes, but unlike her kind I don't pick up continuous transmissions. I can read you mind if I choose. But 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 -” her voice and face took on an academic look. “- '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. “Hank 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 must humbly beg your pardon.” He said sadly.

“I have 3 questions right now. One of which, you can probably read on my face.”

        “And one of which is not even a question.”

“True. So instead I will simply present an argument. For almost a month now the three of us, most certainly the two of us have been remarkably civil to each-other...given the rest of our situation. You must have seen Nikita was as dedicated to my well-being as I was to her protection.” J'onn nodded agreement. “And it is by that same 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 almost 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 actually 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. But I would DIE before I let her come to harm.”

Jeremiah and Nikita are held and cared for by an alien who has forgotten how to trust.

“Stop it!” Nikita cried out. The green-skinned alien stopped in his tracks. He turned to Nikita with a prompting 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 would think if you'd be angry at either of us it would be a freak of nature like me. Not quite literally the best human I have ever known. So if nothing else at least that would make sense!”

A single look told Nikita the outburst had hit home. The man, the alien, instantly dropped his arm and 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 edge of the room, sat down with her feet tucked behind her and turned away from her host. A universally recognized '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. I released her from...well she was propped up for enhanced interrogation and I shut off the device. I knocked Hank out and put him in that chair, which I kept turned off. She asked me if I wanted to come with her. She said I didn't deserve to be trapped in the D.E.O any more than she did. So we made our escape together.” He turned and squarely face the man. “You are the third alien and the 14^th face we have seen in the 8 weeks since that day. And she is quite right. All you had to do was ask. She would have told you anything. Force, much less pain was never needed. And in fact got in the way. I say this with as much experience as she has. She actually literally laughed at Hank for making that assumption. It was the last thing I expected. Making both of you equally blinded by your own prejudicial assumptions as far as she's concerned.”

“You escaped. You both escaped.”

“Yes...I thought we had established that.”

The alien, the Green Martian stared after Nikita. “So that's why she still didn't stand up for herself. Well, 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. I was right about that part..”

“Okay, I'm a little lost. And I don't mind saying so."

“Everything that lives has an instinctual fear of dying. But only humans have such a strong sense of self-preservation. There are those who selflessly help and protect others. Who would also literally do anything to protect and preserve their own life and well being. It's human nature. But it's also human thinking. Most of the time, self-improvement and self-preservation drown out all other considerations just as a matter of cause. She is different. If I was examining her on such a thing – and I swear to you I was not – she would get a lower grade in self-preservation than she does in protective instincts. Extremely rare in the galaxies.”

“Well that makes sense” Jeremiah said without thinking. “She told me her race was rare. Not like superior or of a rare quality but few and far between. There aren't many of them left.”

Understanding blanketed the man's narrow face. “She's Xavallen. That explains a lot.”

“Would I seem like a jerk if I insisted you elaborate on that?” I said shaking my head as a man I had assumed was a dangerous closed-minded fool and someone I needed to protect Nikita from spoke fo her with admiration and perception. Indeed I couldn't help feeling a bit awkward as he stood and spoke to me as if we were university students comparing notes on a lecture.

“Enkarens and Xavallens are sibling races. I don't know enough to tell the difference between them at a glance. Enkarens have intense emotions, they are as you would say 'hot blooded' as a species. They are generally compassionate and reasonable, just quick-tempered. Xavallens are quiet, philosophical and barely even argue with anyone. They are said to have a quieter power, drawing strength from their convictions alone. But until now no one has known enough about her, or her convictions, to know for sure.”