Page 59 of Tricked By the Alien Prince

If there is one thing I am certain of in this life, it is my ability to code. Computers don’t have messy emotions and evil motivations; they are simply logical operators of if, then, and that’s it. Clean. Trustworthy. They do not betray you.

Coding is nothing like the complexities of my heart and mind. My head tells me that I can’t trust him ever again… my soul begs for me to find him and patch things up because no one’s ever made me feel the way he does.

My breath catches in my throat as I visualize the path forward, a way to bypass the electronic locks of the cell doors. No one’s bothered to update the security here in quite some time, perhaps ever. I didn’t even need to create new exploit code; I found a vulnerability that’s probably been around since this system was first installed. Had I needed to write custom code... it might have taken too long. Our freedom is as simple as someone forgetting to patch their security by pressing the update button…

My fingers shake as they hover over my tablet. So simple… It’ll be a matter of just executing this command sequence, and then walking out of here. Without Volan by my side, protecting me. Without him guiding me through the dangers. I’ll just have to casually avoid the hordes of warrior males, rogues, barbarians, and whatever other sword-wielding aliens there are between me and the colony. Easy.

Just weeks ago, I would have frozen with fear at the thought of being in this predicament. Now? I find myself calculating escape routes and planning countermoves like I’m the protagonist in one of those fantasy adventures I love so much. The same woman who once couldn’t even confront Walter during a conversation is now planning a prison break. The irony isn’t lost on me.

“You just have to press that button, right?” Zoran asks, face hovering over my shoulder, hot breath fanning my neck. “The one that says ‘unlock doors’, right?”

“Yes.”

“So it is as easy as just using the device, then.”

“I…” I look at him, to tell him that someone in the past wrote hundreds, thousands of lines of code, to combat hundreds of thousands of lines, and… He wouldn’t understand all the time and effort that resulted in a frustrating, glaringly simple button. “Yeah, I guess I just gotta use the device after all.”

“In three, two, one…” With a deep breath, I press my finger firmly to the screen.

We all wait with bated breath, but nothing happens.

“No… alarms?” Melvall asks, looking over his shoulder at me. “Did you do anything at all?”

“Well, I pressed the button!” I reply.

I glare at the cells of our prison.

“Did you try pulling?” I ask the blue-colored alien. “Not all doors are push, you know?”

Melvall scowls at me as if I suggested something so blatantly obvious that even a child would know… but sure enough, as he pulls back on the metal, the cage door swings open. I do my best to repress the smirk that threatens to pull across my lips, especially at Melvall’s shocked, delighted, and frustrated expression. It’s always amazed me that aliens and humans share so many facial mannerisms, even when sometimes our cultural behaviors differ.

Oh, how I have grown over the last few days.

I stand up and place my tablet in my pocket, making sure to zip it up to keep it safe. It’s my safety blanket, and I can’t possibly bear to be parted from it.

With my chin raised high, I step through the door… okay, maybe I step cautiously through the door and glance around for signs of anyone who might stop us. My anxiety is still buzzing beneath my skin, prickling like goosebumps, ready to make me jump at the first sign of danger… and that’s okay. I think I’m always going to be an anxious person. It’s kind of what makes me, well, me.

The hallway is clear.

“Come on, guys, let’s get out of here.” I don’t bother looking over my shoulder at my fellow escape prisoners; there’s a certainty in my bones that they are following closely behind.

The distant sound of cheering makes me pause, my heartbeat hammering in my throat. “Sounds like they’re having fun without us.”

“Not the kind of fun I want,” Melvall mutters.

“Speak for yourself,” Zoran grins, cracking his knuckles. “Nothing like a good fight to get the blood pumping. Just has to be a fair one—warrior against warrior, skill against skill.”

“It does make me wonder though,” I say, turning to Zoran. “You seemed so proud of your fighting skills back there. If you’re such a champion in the pits, why were you two breaking into the medicine lab? Couldn’t you just win it the usual way?”

Zoran’s usual bravado seems to diminish slightly. “Well...”

“Let’s just say that lately the King has been changing the rules,” Melvall cuts in, voice low. “Last tournament, instead of warrior against warrior, they brought in something else.”

“This huge beast with these long, tentacles,” Zoran explains, gesturing widely with his hands. “Dozens of them, whipping around so fast you can barely see them. And they’re strong—strong enough to crush armor. It pulls warriors underground and just...” He makes a graphic squishing gesture with his hands.

“A tangler,” Melvall identifies, his voice clinical despite the grim subject. “An extremely rare subterranean predator. Virtually impossible to defeat in confined spaces.”

“We watched as three warriors went in,” Zoran states solemnly, uncharacteristically subdued. “None survived.”

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