Page 7 of Infala: The Alien's Bond
“Exactly how long have you been in here?”
“Me? Hmm, let’s see. I’d say a bit over a week. Like I said before, though, I can’t be totally sure of time in this place.”
“A week, huh? What about the others?”
“The longest is her over there,” she said, pointing to an Asian woman with a thick, long braid. “That’s Mei. She doesn’t talk much. From what I heard, things got kind of ugly when her group was brought aboard. I don’t know what happened to the rest of them, but she’s the only one left.”
Darla felt a pang of sympathy briefly outweigh her own self-pity, at least for a moment. Then the reality of the shitty situation crashed back around her.
“So, if they just brought me on board, how are you so sure we’re not still on Earth? Maybe—”
“Trust me, I know. We all felt it. The ship’s vibrations changed. Right after the Raxxians dumped you in here, come to think of it.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean—”
“And then we had a second of weightlessness when we popped out of the atmosphere before whatever they use to create artificial gravity kicked in,” Maureen cut her off.
“Ah,” Darla stammered. “Well, uh, yeah. I guess that kinda settles it, then.”
“Yup.”
Darla mulled over the details for a minute, coming to terms with the harsh reality of her situation. She was a captive on an alien spaceship, and she didn’t have the slightest idea what would become of her.
A cramp hit her as the alien food and water processed through her system. It seemed that while it was edible, it would take her stomach some getting used to.
“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, her hand resting on her lower belly.
Maureen’s smile faltered.
“Follow me.”
She led the way to a seamless section of wall and pointed to a pair of slightly indented ovals barely visible on the floor. They were separated by about two feet, the metal between them faintly lined in an iris pattern.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Darla asked.
“Step on them.”
“Step on them?”
“You heard me.”
She had no reason to doubt her, so Darla took a step forward, placing one foot on each indentation. Immediately the iris in the floor cycled open beneath her, the faint stink of sewage wafting up despite the ship’s disposal system.
“Hang on. A shit hole? Seriously? A literal shit hole?” Darla stepped back and the iris snapped shut. “Uh-uh. No way. I need privacy. And toilet paper.”
“There’s a bidet sort of feature on it. Not sure how it works, it just seems to know when you’re done and gives you a spritz.”
“Fuck this. I don’t know about you, but this isn’t acceptable.”
“You don’t have a choice. And keep your voice down.”
“I will not keep my voice down. This is bullshit! They can’t treat us like this!”
“Will you shut her up?” a tall blond man in a stained tank top shouted. “You know what they’ll do.”
“Olaf’s right,” a woman with platinum blonde hair whispered from the bunk she’d slid into. “You have to stay quiet.”
“What’s with you people? They obviously need us alive, right? So why—”
