Jaycen had calmed himself by the time the door to his room opens with a soft metal shoop. He quickly sits up in surprise, only to see another figure in the bulky black and yellow armor like the ones he saw before his brief bout of unconsciousness. The figure shuffles into the room, and in their hands they carry another one of those writing tablets in front of their body, holding onto the thing and keeping it between the two of them like a shield. Another shoop sounds out as the door closes behind them, causing them to jump slightly in surprise before regaining their composure. Jaycen takes a moment to size them up; he was expecting the big one, that damn cattle prod toting goon that introduced him to his old friend Mr. Sandman, but this one's maybe only five foot nine. Not short, of course, but not the hulking seven foot figure he expected. He quickly does some mental risk assessment as to his chances of just knocking out the Spartoi heavy, but considering he’d already tried and failed to get the door to open, and had no idea where this strangely sterilized prison cell actually was, he didn’t like his odds of getting out of here safely regardless of the stature of his captor. Better to play it safe for now and keep his eyes peeled for any opportunity that may arise.
The goon makes some sort of weird clicking noise. While he has no idea what the hell that noise is, it certainly doesn’t make Jaycen feel any safer. “I welcome you onto our vessel,” they begin to say, though Jaycen notes he can hear two voices coming from their helmet. One is artificial, like some old text-to-speech software, and has what he can only surmise is some sort of posh British accent. The other though is obviously natural, though Jaycen couldn’t even begin to recognize the language it spoke; he was only really familiar with English, a small smattering of Spanish, and the just enough Korean to know when someone was upset with him. Still, one thing bugged him. The speed at which the artificial voice catches up to the natural one gave him pause. Most sophisticated translators he'd encountered could take up to five seconds from the end of a sentence to start their output.
“I apologize profusely for your treatment so far," the RP tinted voice continues, "and also for your detainment. We ask that you be patient with us. This is an unprecedented situation we all find ourselves in.”
Jaycen shakes his head and massages his temples. Just his luck. He's on a ship, apparently. A ship likely already in space. They didn’t bother getting him a passport and moving him through customs or anything. That would be too much of a paper trail. Just black bag the bastard and shove him on some freighter, probably bound for a Spartoi owned station. It’s not like they need to stick to legal channels anyway, this was Spartoi we're talking about after all; there was no denying they had the money to do whatever they wanted, and even if anyone decided to raise a stink they'd be paid off or dead within a week. With a final sigh of defeat, there went any fantasies of escape he had just begun to harbor.
“Right, yeah. And I guess you’re “orientation” then, right?” He saw no reason to filter the frustration out of his tone. He was fucked, and that was that.
His captor clicked again and continued. “Yes, that is an accurate way to summarize the situation. I hope to make this process simple and convenient for all interested parties.”
“Get on with it then. What do you need me to do?”
“First, I believe we should begin with formal introductions. My name is Akhia, and I am a researcher aboard this vessel. May I ask your name?”
A researcher? He doesn't like the sound of that. Are they planning on making him into some sort of drug test guinea pig? “Jaycen... Jaycen McAllister.”
“It is good to meet you Jay Sen Jay Sen Mac Allis Tear.”
Jaycen sighed. Whoever this was wasn’t very smart for an academic. He stood up from his bed to greet them properly, extending his hand for a handshake. “It’s just the one, actually.”
The figure clicks again and shuffles their feet awkwardly, their impassive helmeted glare fixed on his outstretched hand. After a moment of silence, they replied, “Please clarify that statement. Just the one?”
He tried not to let himself get annoyed, but felt himself heating up. They were definitely fucking with him now. “One Jaycen. Just… just Jaycen McAllister.”
They type away again on their tablet before addressing him again. “Okay. Just one Jay Sen. So if I am correct, your name is Jay Sen Mac Allis Tear.”
Spartoi sure doesn’t splurge to hire the good doctors, assuming of course this weirdo was even accredited. “Yeah, sure. You can just call me Jaycen." Despite the situation, his damn curiosity is starting to get the better of him, and he can't stop himself from asking the question at the forefront of his mind. "Are you using an auto-translator?”
They looked up from the tablet. “Yes, I am. I have not had the opportunity to familiarize myself with your language yet. While our systems have been able to cobble together a working translator, I find listening to partial recordings insufficient for proper education.”
“Oh, okay, yeah.” They must still be learning English, partially fluent at best. He can't blame them, his native tongue wasn't exactly the lingua franca it had been even three generation ago. And, well, that explains the stilted speech, though it didn't explain the crisp accent of the translator. And so far, this person has been polite. He didn’t expect Spartoi to be... well, so professional with their acquisitions. An idea started to form in his head, and he knew that if he didn’t take the shot, he’d at least have plenty of time to regret it during his upcoming indentured servitude. “Kia, can I call you Kia?”
There was a short trill of clicks. “I would prefer you do not.”
Not a good start. “Okay then, Akhia, what are the odds of me seeing home again? I mean, I was only a couple days late on that payment, right? I only just got a hold of Grandpa’s old farm a couple months ago, you can't honestly expect me to turn a profit before I even get any animals in the barn! Can’t you overlook it just this once?”
There's a pregnant pause as the passionless face of her helm stares straight into him. It's the most pregnant pause Jaycen has ever experienced. Easily enough for twins. “I apologize, but I do not understand. What... payment... are you speaking of... and how does your farm relate to it?”
Another pause follows as the moments grow into seconds as Jaycen stares back. It's at this point that he realizes that the black and yellow suit does not, in fact, proudly display the gold and red Spartoi logo in a highly visible location. In fact, he can't see the logo anywhere on his captor's spacesuit at all. Spartoi was lacking in many things; tax payments, business ethics, basic human decency. But one thing it didn't lack was branding. “Umm… this might sound stupid, but… you are with Spartoi, right?”
Again there was a pause. “I don’t believe that word translated.”
“Maybe that's because it’s a proper noun? You know, Spartoi. The company? The slogan they added to the moon is literally visible from space. Seeding the galaxy with your help? Ring any bells?”
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“I apologize, but I do not know this name. Is this Spartoi of significance to your species?”
“To my species?” Jaycen asked incredulously. “The hell does that mean?!”
There was yet another long pause, damn near enough for triplets this time. “I am beginning to believe you do not understand the situation.”
"That's the fucking understatement of the century, Kia. Please, enlighten me.”
Click click. “Very well. This research vessel, The Truth In Darkest Void, is currently observing your species, which I believe you refer to as Humans. Due to an… unforeseen equipment malfunction, you spotted our field observation team, which consisted of me and one of my colleagues. She quickly subdued you with a high powered subduction truncheon. While you were unconscious, we placed you in this isolated chamber. And then you began to curse at me.”
“Huh,” was all Jaycen can muster. He can feel the frustration even through the synthesized voice. “So… uh... you are some kinda space alien, then?”
“My people refer to ourselves as Khiret.”
“Really?”
Click. “Yes.”
They just stand there in the uncomfortable silence for a moment. Jaycen gets lost in his own head for a moment considering her words. An alien. A real fucking alien, right here in the room with him? It sounded ludicrous, but before he can think of a clarifying question to ask her, a more pertinent question rises to the forefront of his mind
“So, uh…” Jaycen eventually ventures. “Can I go home then?”
Another trill of clicks greets his question. “I’m afraid not. Our mission is to record our observations on your species, but protocol dictates that we not make any sort of contact with your people. Our equipment malfunction, and my colleague’s assault on you, is a serious complication to our mission. According to our directives, if the target of our observation is made aware of our existence, they are to be detained until the situation has been investigated by a representative of the Galactic Coalition unaffiliated with our vessel. After the investigation, the Council will make a determination whether you can be released back to your people, or if further detainment is required.”
And again, the pit of his stomach fell out. “So I’m under arrest for being assaulted?”
There was another pause before Akhia answered. “That... could be considered an accurate assessment.”
Jaycen had to suppress the urge to scream in frustration. "Okay, okay. So how long are you keeping me then? How long will this investigation take?"
"That depends. Our journey to a Coalition station will be relatively quick, only thirty or so cycles, after which the investigation will begin. That may take upwards of three hundred cycles. In the worst case scenario, it may be determined that you cannot be returned to human space until after the study is completed entirely."
"Okay," Jaycen says, feeling like he's starting to get his feet back under him, "then I have follow up question. How long is a cycle?"
She gives another click and taps something on her datapad. After a few moments, she looks up at him. "With a rough estimate, it is likely close to a full rotation of your home planet."
Okay, so a cycle’s about a day then. Jaycen does a bit of mental math. It was never his strong suit, but he could always get by well enough. "So, that's a month to get there, then most of a year for the investigation. Not... great. Uh, how long does the study on all of humanity take?"
She looks back down at her datapad. "Four thousand cycles," she admits, her natural voice quiet but the synthesized translation deadpan as always.
Jaycen holds his head in his hands again. That was well over a decade. A decade being caged like an animal, a decade being poked and prodded by alien scientists. Maybe it was better than slavery, but not by much. Then suddenly, an idea pops into his head, a faint glimmer of hope. “Can’t you just wipe my memory or something? Make me forget I saw you?”
A click. “Does your species have a way to modify their own memories without invasive and traumatic psychological or surgical procedures?”
“Um… I don’t think so?”
“...then I would not recommend it.”
“Well uh…” Jaycen felt himself grasping at straws for anything he could do about the situation. “Can we at least go back to my farm so I can pack some things to bring with me?”
Akhia looked over towards the wall and waited a moment before turning back to Jaycen. “I have been informed that is not an option. I do apologize, the decision does not lie with me. If it did... I would have liked to see more samples of your culture, especially your written language. Which reminds me…” She reached into a storage compartment somewhere on her back and pulled out the book Jaycen was reading beneath the tree and held it out for him to take. “We have scanned your literature into our database. You may have this back.”
“Oh. Thanks. You uh... could have asked permission.” Jaycen gratefully took his grandpa’s old book. He found the thing shortly after he moved to the old farmhouse, and it provided a small amount of entertainment while he tried to scrounge enough money together to afford a computer. Or a TV. Or... anything, really. It was some old science fiction novel. He assumed it must have been a reprint, because the copyright date on the first page was nearly two hundred years old. It was some old story of man finding his place among the stars, the many pages of purple prose full of hope and ambition for a brighter future. What a load of shit, he thinks with a wry smile. For this man, the stars so far have held nothing but debt and disappointment.
Akhia shuffled her feet again trying to get his attention. “If you have any further questions, I would be more than happy to answer them.”
Jaycen slumps back down on his bed and places the book on a nearby counter top. “I’d actually like to be alone for a bit, if you don’t mind.”
The alien seems to consider his words for a moment. “I understand. This is a difficult situation. If you require anything, such as nourishment, simply speak your request aloud and someone will be alerted to it by the ship’s computer.” She gestured at one of the doors. “The lavatory is located through there, but please do not attempt to leave through the other door.”
Jaycen waves his hand dismissively and lays back down. “I think I’m just gonna lie here and contemplate my terrible fate.”
“Of course. I would ask that when you are feeling up to it, we would like to interview you. The information you provide about your species could be invaluable to our study.”
Jaycen waves his hand lazily at her, which Akhia takes as her signal to leave the room.
That could have gone better, she thinks to herself as she slips out the door. As she stands in the hallway and looks at her tablet, she realizes that for most of their conversation, she wasn’t even typing. She was supposed to be taking notes on the alien's behavior, but of course that went out the window once they had their little misunderstanding. She quickly starts to tap away, filing in the details as well as she can remember them. She feels terrible, almost nauseous. When she first entered the room, it felt like every muscle in her body was tense, ready to bolt out the door at a moment's notice. Now all of that tension was gone, but in its place there was just this gross feeling. She couldn't quite place her thoughts on the matter. She was guilty, perhaps? And yet, she had no conscious idea of what she had to be guilty about. She knew she should have been excited, giddy even, to make first contact with a new sapient species. And a historic one at that! The first sapient death worlders! Despite the unexpected complications, it was still a huge opportunity for the young xenoanthropoligist. But all she could think about was the slump of Jay Sen’s shoulders and the way he held his head in his hands. He just looked so... resigned. Like there was a great weight on his shoulders, and he had no choice but to accept the burden. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t that.
As she finishes typing up her report, she gives a single dejected click of her palps before she makes her way back to the observation room. They had a long flight ahead of them, and thoughts like these would only serve to distract her from her work. It was better for her to focus on collecting useful data than to spend time worrying about the human's mental state. That was Sheilyn's job anyway, at least in theory. Resigned, she makes her way back to the rest of the research team, the heavy clank of her exo-boots echoing down the spaceship corridor.