An Interrogation

Vaal had been here before. The room was small with a raised bed against the far wall. Between the interrogator and the subject there was a finely perforated sheet of anti-ballistic material. The subject was bipedal, which is uncommon for reptiles. It had spent the morning attempting to escape, but appeared resigned to its captivity. Vaal understood its frustration. She had once been in that cell. They came daily to ask her questions that she couldn’t answer. She nearly starved to death before it occurred to them that she didn’t speak their language. “Water” was the first word that she spoke.

Vaal wasn’t expecting to teach the reptilian any English. Even her grasp of it was tenuous. But she hoped to serve as an interpreter between the two species. It had taken years to build up mutual trust with the humans and a fragile one at best. The reptilian had been resting on the bed when she entered. Now it stood staring at her as she paced back and forth in front of the separator. She listened intently to its slow hiss as she strolled past. She stopped and stared back at it. “Don’t lie to me,” she hissed. In the high-pitched speech of her species, she introduced herself. It covered its auditory organs and shrunk away. She smiled, then hissed an apology and a second introduction.

“Vaal,” it managed to hiss out. “Aarai,” the reptile hissed while pointing to itself. It was going to be a long day. Vaal hated interrogations. She didn’t always. Back home, before falling into the void, she was very good at them. But there is a big difference between dealing with your own species and dealing with an alien race. Most of Aarai’s language was outside the normal human range. It would require a frequency modulation. Humans lacked the ability to modulate frequencies naturally. But the apes were nothing if not ingenious inventors. They were also deadly intolerant. She warned Aarai not to anger them, not to underestimate them, but she left out the worst part. Aarai was never going home.

The Hydrophile

Vaal stood before the lieutenant carrying a tray. She smiled at him. At least, he guessed it was a smile. She looked almost human, except for the grey skin and short hair that clung to her head like a silver helmet. He estimated that she was just over five feet tall standing in her bare feet. Her dossier stated that she refused to wear shoes. He guessed it had something to do with her long toes. Her dark blue eyes were set farther apart on her face leaving plenty of room for her flat, wide nose.

She stared back at the young officer offering a wan smile. "I made some coffee. I didn't know what to put in your cup, so I brought the carafe. There is also milk and sugar." "Black will be fine," he replied. He watched as she shuffled over to the small conversation pit. She took her cup from the tray and sat on the divan. "Please, take a seat," she gestured toward a chair by the coffee table. He sat down, stuffing the envelope he brought with him into the space between the cushion and the arm of the chair.

The Cistern (Work in Progress)

The chamber holding the cistern was cool, kept at a constant temperature by the surrounding stone walls. Natural light poured into the chamber through a trio of round glass windows set high into the eastern wall. The morning sun warmed the chamber while the western wall absorbed the heat and radiated it back out during the rest of the day. At the head of the shallow cistern, filtered water flowed in from an underground stream that also provided power as it flowed through a small water-powered generator located in another chamber.

Below the window at the foot of the cistern, a series of wooden pegs held a bathrobe and several towels. Vaal lay below the surface of the shallow pool sleeping soundly. She had missed the sunrise, which was not uncommon for her. The steady beat of the blade of an approaching helicopter echoed inside the chamber, disturbing the surface of the water and waking Vaal. It landed on a rocky ledge above the cavernous lodge. The pilot shut off the engine, disembarked, and secured the craft before Lt. Eldwin Parker climbed out. Making his way down the carved steps to the baffled entrance of the habitat, the lieutenant mentally reviewed his set of instructions.

Vaal didn’t look at all like the lieutenant had imagined, his expectations influenced by the depictions of mermaids in popular fiction. The blue terrycloth robe she was wearing covered most of her pale grey skin. Her dripping wet hair clung to her head like a silver helmet. Her feet were bare as usual. She stood holding a tray of freshly brewed coffee that she had brought from her galley. She placed the tray on a table and smiled at the lieutenant.

“Please, have a seat. I made some coffee.” She gestured to a nearby chair while taking a seat on a divan.

Her guest smiled awkwardly as he sat down. Uncertain how to broach the subject, he sat silently sipping his coffee. “Could you bring me that towel?” she gestured to a hand towel on the table next to his chair. She laughed as he juggled his coffee cup and saucer in his haste to bring her the towel. She took it from his outstretched arm and began to towel dry her hair. “Lieutenant Parker,” she asked, “do you have a first name? Or are you under orders to keep this call to duty strictly formal?”

“You know why I’m here?”

“I don’t know the details, but they wouldn’t have sent you if they didn’t need me to do them a solid. So, what’s the gig?” She opened the sealed envelope that the lieutenant handed to her and began reading the file. Sometime in the early morning hours, the DSRV Trilobite lost power and drifted off the continental shelf where it came to rest on the sea floor. The mission was simple. She needed to locate the submarine, assess the damage, and determine if the crew were still alive.