Space Hostages by Sophia McDougall Page A

expression changed from rage to intrigue. “We demand to speak to a married couple,” said Krnk-ni-Plik, frustrated by now.
    â€œNo one’s married,” said Lena.
    All the Krakkiluks looked at one another and then vibrated, so that the plates of their exoskeletons clacked and clattered. It was strange, but I understood —there’s something about dealing with people , wherever they’re from. There are lots of things you don’t understand, but some things youdo. I was pretty sure that that noise amounted to scornful laughter.
    â€œNo wonder you were so easily captured,” said Tlag-li-Glig. “What is the crew of a ship without Love?”
    No one had any idea how to answer that except the Helen of Troy , who announced indignantly through external speakers, “I am full of love!” Which left the aliens kind of flummoxed.
    â€œWell,” said a Krakkiluk with blue coils on its exoskeleton. “That is very strange.”
    â€œAh! The ship is your wife!” said Krnk-ni-Plik.
    â€œOh! No, of course not, I’ve had quite enough wives, ha ha. The ship is just . . . it’s a ship. With an artificial intelligence in it, that’s all.”
    â€œI don’t think you’re helping,” hissed Dr. Muldoon.
    â€œThere can be no true cohesion, no sacred covenant between soldiers, without Love,” said Tlag-li-Glig severely. “Love is the basis of nations! The clay from which greatness is built! The forge of civilization! I fight for the Expanse, but I fight for my beloved first, and she for me!”
    â€œO diamond of my life,” said Krnk-ni-Plik reverently, deeply moved by this.
    â€œO thorned bloom of summer seas,” responded Tlag-li-Glig.
    â€œO rainbow of my oil glands,” said Krnk-ni-Plik.
    The Krakkiluks seemed to be working themselves up into performing some disturbing kind of poem (the others clattered gently in appreciation), and personally, I would have left them to it in the hope they’d get so carried away we could sneak back aboard the Helen and fly off. But Carl decided to interrupt.
    â€œOkay, we get it, you really like love,” he said. “You’re very loving people. So you could . . . let us go home right now. That would show love, wouldn’t it?
    â€œI think they mainly like marriage,” I whispered to him.
    â€œThere’s other kinds of love!” announced Christa unexpectedly. “There’s parents . . . and siblings . . . and friends. . . . Oh, god, please don’t hurt me.”
    â€œChrista, quiet,” warned Trommler. But he needn’t have bothered, because the nearest Krakkiluks just gestured at her in the vague way you might bat at a fly you can’t be bothered to actually hit.
    Two pairs of Krakkiluks emerged from the Helen and said something, but the red boxes didn’t translate that or Krnk-ni-Plik’s reply. The subordinate pair might have saluted if they’d been humans—and they did bow—but then they turned to each other and, with equal formality (but somehow still plentyof passion), embraced. Then they retired a few steps, sheathed their weapons, and began lightly caressing each other with their claws.
    â€œFel-thraaa shiha-raa,” said Th saaa . “ Please. “ Quurufor vel-raha amlaa-vel-esh.” And I could hear the word “cooling cape” in there. Pale, washed-out patches were appearing amidst their colors.
    â€œPlease. It’s way too hot for Morrors,” Noel said. “You can’t keep Th saaa in here; they’ll overheat and die!”
    The Krakkiluks seemed as oblivious to anything said by anyone under eighteen, but when Dr. Muldoon said the same thing over again, Tlag-li-Glig inspected Th saaa critically and crunched out something untranslated to a pair of subordinates, who went and found a cooling cape inside the Helen . They tossed it over to Th saaa, who huddled inside it gratefully. But I knew that