6: Messes Together

  SHIP TIME: YEAR 2, MONTH 6

  Ian knew he was in love on a Tuesday in an improbable neighbourhood with a man who probably shouldn't have been available but somehow was.

  They were in the community garden. Tomatoes climbed trellises. Lettuce grew in neat rows. Herbs perfumed the air with scents that were almost Earth-like enough to forget where they were.

  Samir was studying a pepper plant, then returned to sketching it on a notepad. Sitting beside him on a bench, Ian was attempting to read a novel. Even with investigating their prison, even with filling support roles in this makeshift village, released from their toil on Earth and living in a cage where food was provided for them, the villagers took up hobbies to pass the time. Speakers in the garden, which were tuned into music one of the older Villagers had selected, echoed out Nocturne in E-flat Major by Chopin. It was almost normal.

  “Hmm.” Samir paused, frowning at his efforts. “I was so good at drawing as a child, but my parents told me my skills were better used in science and school. I am beginning to think they were right.”

  “Oh, it doesn’t look that bad. You’re improving!” Ian moved closer, both to study the sketch and to be near Samir.

  “How’s Melville and Moby Dick?” Samir asked, returning to his sketching.

  “Dreadful.”

  “Really?”

  “The story is amazing. But the problem is that every other chapter is an information dump about the whaling industry. I know this was written at a different time, but he just spent a chapter arguing why a whale was a fish and not a mammal.”

  “Heh.” Samir gave a shy smile as he drew.

  “What?”

  “Outside of the music broadcast, and the fact we’re on an alien spaceship, this could be a scene from the 1800s. A biologist drawing samples while his companion reads the latest novel.” Samir shifted in his seat, and his leg rested against Ian’s.

  Ian listened to the music as Samir sketched. He watched the way Samir's fingers moved with unconscious gentleness.

  I love you, Ian thought. Not for the first time. But this time the thought came with certainty, with weight, with the kind of truth that couldn't be ignored or rationalized away.

  “Ian?”

  He blinked. Samir was looking at him, head tilted slightly.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I said Chopin was also a major figure from the 1800s. I just thought it was a funny little bit of…synchronicity, is it?”

  “Well, at least until 4 o’clock when your shift starts. Never would have pegged you for a Willie Nelson fan.” Ian said in a dry voice that brought forth a chuckle from Samir.

  They worked in comfortable silence. This was new: the ability to be quiet together. Ian's brain usually demanded constant stimulation, but somehow Samir's presence was enough. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the occasional soft commentary, the way the heat from their bodies warmed the other.

  “I broke up with my last boyfriend because he said I talked too much,” Ian said suddenly.

  Samir looked up, surprised. “That's his loss.”

  “I do talk too much. I’m working on it, but my brain just… words come out faster than I can stop them.”

  “You think out loud,” Samir said. “It's not a flaw. It's just how you process.”

  “Most people find it annoying.”

  “I don't.” Samir met his eyes. “I like listening to you think.”

  The warmth in Ian's chest spread. “Yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  They were sitting very close now. When had that happened? Ian could see the faint scar on Samir's temple from some childhood injury. Saw how Samir’s eyes connected with his.

  “Samir…”

  “Hey!” Jing's voice shattered the moment. They pulled apart as she approached, tablet in hand. “Pavilion. Now. We pulled something off the internet you both need to see.”

  “What is it?” Ian asked, his tone sharp.

  “Not sure yet.”

  As they walked, Ian caught Samir watching him from the corner of his eye. Their hands swung close, not quite touching. The air between them felt charged with something unspoken.

  Later, Ian promised himself. We'll talk later.

  The Villagers gathered in the pavilion and watched as Wei and Marcus connected a laptop to the large monitor. Jing stood off to the side.

  “As you know, since we discovered the time difference, we’ve kept a few devices synced to the Internet down on the planet. This morning, we performed our 100-day check. Since the last time, one hour has passed on Earth, and the following major event has occurred.” She gestured to the monitor, now showing the CBC news page.

  In extremely large font, the headline read: ALIEN ENTITY BROADCASTS MESSAGE TO EARTH!

  Wei then scrolled down to reveal the message transcript. As the villagers read through the message, small gasps were heard, along with one or two swears.

  After a few minutes, Marcus spoke: “This was broadcast globally, simultaneously, in multiple languages. There's not much more yet; we can check again in fifty days. Our time…which is 30 minutes from now on Earth.”

  “Well,” Lisette said. “At least we know.”

  Wei was slowly scrolling down the website when Samir called out.

  “Wait. Wei, can you click on that article: ‘Initial Reports on the 100’?”

  The article appeared on the monitor. First came a section on the Sutton family, followed by a photo of someone standing in front of a trailer in a polar landscape.

  “That’s…that’s impossible!” Samir stammered out. “That’s my trailer here-”

  Karen interrupted him. “Wait, I think I see my house!”

  Wei scrolled down to a photo of an older couple standing before a house identical to Karen’s - one visible from the pavilion.

  The crowd’s chatter got louder, and people started shouting out questions.

  Maureen stood up from her spot in the front row and raised her hands up, projecting Full Colonel mode as Ian and Samir called it. The din from the villagers died down. “Quiet, please. I know this raises more questions than it answers. Right now, we need to focus on what we know.”

  She continued.

  “We now know we’re being held by an alien civilization calling itself the Salolehs Empire. They've announced a seven-day trial. Seven Earth days. They will broadcast footage of us. They claim they will be judging humanity based on our behaviour.”

  Ian spoke up, voice urgent:

  “Wait. Their message said ten years for us in seven Earth days. But we've already been here over two years, and only twelve Earth hours have passed. The math doesn't work!”

  “I caught that too!” Wei pulled up a calculator on the monitor screen. “Their stated ratio works out to about 525 to 1. We're running at 2,400 to 1. Seven Earth days at our rate would be closer to forty-six years.”

  The pavilion was dead silent for a moment, then Maureen continued.

  “So either the Salolehs are lying about the timeline, or something is actively changing the dilation rate without their knowledge.”

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  She let that settle.

  “Here's what we do not know: How some of our homes are in two places at once. Why is our time running faster than what the Salolehs stated? What happens at the end of their 'trial' and what do they mean by 'act accordingly.'“

  Maureen paused as a few villagers started up with questions. She noticed Ian, Samir and a few others smelling the air. Cannabis. Again.

  She held her hands up again. “We're not going to solve this tonight. We’ve been here before; we know the drill. For right now, all we can do is go back to our daily routines. However, if you have technical skills or observations that might help, see us after this meeting. Ian, Samir, our tech team, and I will coordinate on investigating the key questions, starting with the duplicate residences and the time discrepancy. We'll update you as we learn more. We’ll report back at the weekly meeting on what we’ve found.”

  The villagers broke up into smaller groups, some approaching the front to talk with the colonel and the rest of her team, others wandering off in animated discussion.

  One group walked away from the main group and reconvened. Karen turned and addressed her group – about ten people, including Chad, Neil, and Rashid.

  “So, another ‘we’ll look into it and let you know’ excuse. Is anyone else feeling a little disappointed in the self-appointed leadership of this village?”

  Several heads nodded in agreement, including Chad. Neil and Rashid remained stone-faced, but they did exchange a look which indicated they were the only two who didn’t agree with Karen.

  “Let’s reconvene at my house. Or…the copy of my house, I guess. Oh, could someone do me a favour and stop off at the German bakery and get some pastries from the Muellers? Rashid? Could you…?”

  Rashid quietly fumed at the implicit order, but Neil interrupted him before he could say anything.

  “I’ll give him a hand. We’ll be at your place in fifteen.”

  Karen’s group split and headed off in opposite directions. Karen failed to notice that Lisette and Josie were within earshot, supposedly talking to a neighbour, but secretly listening to the discussion.

  Thirty minutes later, Ian and Samir walked back to Samir’s trailer. Ian wanted to argue, to find some optimistic interpretation. But his brain wouldn't cooperate. Instead, he found himself saying, “At least we're together.”

  Samir turned to look at him. “Together?”

  “The community. All of us. We're not alone in this.”

  “No,” Samir agreed. “We're not alone.”

  The moment stretched. Ian's heart was hammering. He stopped as they were about to step inside the trailer.

  “Samir, I need…I need to ask you something,” he began quietly.

  “Ian,” Samir said carefully. “This thing between us-”

  “I know.”

  “I'm not-” Samir paused. His voice trembled slightly. “I don't usually feel like this. About anyone.”

  Ian's breath caught. “Like what?”

  “Like I want to know everything about you. Like your happiness matters more than my own comfort. Like-” Samir stopped, searching his thoughts for the right words. “Like being near you is the only thing that makes this bearable.”

  The confession hung between them. Ian felt simultaneously too hot and too cold.

  “I'm falling in love with you,” Ian said. Because subtlety had never been his strong suit. “Actually, no. I've already fallen. I'm in love with you. Present tense.”

  Samir's hand landed on top of Ian’s. “Ian…”

  “You don't have to say it back. I just needed you to know.”

  “I'm asexual,” Samir said. “Or mostly asexual. I don't…sex isn't something I need or particularly want most of the time. If you're expecting-”

  “I'm not expecting anything,” Ian interrupted. “I mean, I'd like to kiss you. Like, a lot. But beyond that, I just want to be near you. Talk to you. Make you laugh. Whatever you're comfortable with.”

  Samir looked at Ian with an expression Ian couldn't quite read.

  “I want that too,” he said finally. “All of it. The talking, the nearness. The kissing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  They stood there, two men on a fake street under a fake sun.

  Ian reached out slowly with his other hand and placed it on the side of Samir’s face, giving Samir time to pull away. When he didn't, Ian's fingers stroked his cheek.

  “Is this okay?” Ian asked.

  “This is okay.”

  They stood like that for a long moment, hands linked, testing the shape of this new thing between them. Then Samir tugged gently, pulling Ian closer, and Ian went willingly.

  The kiss was soft. Careful. Samir's lips were warm against his, and Ian felt like his entire nervous system had been set on fire in the best possible way. It had.

  When they finally pulled apart, Samir was smiling.

  “I should tell you,” Samir said, “I'm terrible at relationships. I get so caught up in my work that I forget what’s going on around me sometimes. I go days without wanting physical contact and then get confused when people feel neglected.”

  “I have ADHD and anxiety,” Ian countered. “I talk too much. I'm impulsive. I need constant reassurance. I'm a mess.”

  “We're both messes.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want to be messy together?”

  Ian laughed, surprised and delighted. “Yeah. Yes. Absolutely yes.”

  They kissed again, longer this time. And in their body, nanites adjusted, calibrated and enhanced what was already there.

  The feelings were real. The love was genuine. But the intensity, the certainty, the way neither of them could imagine being apart was being carefully, invisibly amplified.

  Neither of them knew. Neither of them suspected. They just held each other and felt grateful that in all this impossibility, they'd found something real.

  SHIP TIME: YEAR 2, MONTH 9

  Samir was right about the physical contact: sometimes he wanted it, craved Ian's touch, would spend hours curled together on Ian's couch talking about everything and nothing. Other times, he'd pull away, needing space, his body simply not interested in more than handholding.

  Ian learned to read the signals. Learned when to push closer and when to give Samir room. His brain, sometimes bad at picking up social cues, seemed weirdly attuned to Samir specifically. He knew when Samir was overwhelmed before Samir did. Could tell from across a room if Samir needed rescuing from a conversation.

  It should have been perfect. And it was, mostly. Except for the nagging feeling Ian couldn't quite shake that something was off. Not wrong, exactly. Just... too easy. Too natural. Like falling into a pattern that had been pre-made for them.

  “You're overthinking,” Samir said one evening. They were in Ian's living room, Samir reading a book about Artificial Intelligence that had mysteriously appeared in the neighbourhood library, Ian supposedly studying the history of China from a book Jing suggested, but secretly watching Samir read.

  “How do you know I'm thinking about anything?”

  “Your leg. You bounce it when you're thinking hard about something.” Samir marked his place in the book. “What's wrong?”

  “Nothing's wrong.”

  “Ian.”

  The way Samir said his name - patient, knowing, affectionate - made Ian's chest hurt.

  “Does this feel too good to you?” Ian asked. “Like, we barely fight. We communicate perfectly. We just... fit. And I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  Samir considered this. “We're both traumatized people in an impossible situation. Maybe we're just... good at adapting. At finding comfort where we can.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or,” Samir continued, closing his book entirely, “maybe we're just compatible. Maybe some relationships are just easier than others.”

  “In my experience, relationships are always hard.”

  “This one isn't.”

  “Exactly.” Ian placed the book on the coffee table, stood and began pacing. “Why isn't it? Why don't we fight about stupid things? Why don't I get annoyed when you hyper-focus for hours? Why don't you get frustrated when I interrupt you constantly? Everything about you soothes me. It's too…”

  “Perfect?” Samir stood, crossing to where Ian had stopped pacing. “You're upset that our relationship is good?”

  “I just…god, it’s so hard, it’s more like a feeling. Like it might not be real.”

  The words hung between them. Samir's expression shifted through several emotions: confusion, hurt, understanding.

  “You think they're doing something to us,” he said. “The beings. The ship. Whatever's watching.”

  “I don't know. Maybe?”

  “Ian.” Samir's hands caught his, stilling them. “Listen to yourself. You're spiralling. You’re finding fault where there is none. Do you love me?”

  “Yes. You know I do.”

  “And I love you. That's real. Whatever else might be happening.” Samir pulled Ian closer. “Don't borrow trouble. We have enough as it is.”

  Ian wanted to argue. Wanted to point out all the small ways their relationship seemed engineered for perfection. But Samir was kissing him, and his analytical brain was shutting down, and maybe it didn't matter anyway.

  They fell asleep together that night, Ian's head on Samir's chest, listening to his heartbeat. And if the nanites in their blood were working overtime, adjusting and calibrating and making sure this bond would hold, they'd never know.

  Not yet.

  SHIP TIME: YEAR 3, MONTH 4

  Ian and Samir attended a meeting for the entire village. Ian noticed Karen's group clustered near the back, arms crossed, waiting.

  Jing, Wei, and Marcus set up the video and display equipment.

  There were murmurs of curiosity from the crowd, but when Jing stepped forward, everyone paid attention.

  “We received notification about this news update seven days ago. It is another update from the Salolehs. It took this long to finish the download of the video as it was streamed from Earth’s Internet. We must caution you - the footage is disturbing.” Jing nodded to Wei and Marcus, then stood off to the side.

  The green Saloleh symbol appeared with its repeating three-note motif, then vanished, replaced by a video of the Village and its people. At first, events unfolded much as they remembered.

  But soon a twisted version of village life emerged: Maureen barking orders, Ian and Samir enforcing them, Neil assaulting people while snorting and injecting drugs, Jing and Wei planting surveillance bugs in every house, Chad attacking Magnus, the Suttons stealing food and supplies, Lisette dumping Josie on anyone nearby, and Karen bullying everyone while scheming against the rest.

  The video ended after 30 minutes. The Salolehs Empire logo flashed on the screen, and a voice spoke: “This is what has happened after 6 months on the ship. Let us hope their behaviour improves in future broadcasts.”

  The villagers were dead quiet for about ten seconds. Then, total pandemonium as they began arguing about what they saw. Maureen attempted to call for order, but for once it fell on deaf ears. Karen saw her moment.

  “What are you going to do now? You have no idea!” Her voice barely carried over the crowd, who continued arguing about what they saw.

  Unfortunately, Ian opened his mouth. “Oh, like you’ve ever had any fucking ideas, princess!”

  “I am not a PRINCESS!” Karen shrieked.

  “But you are!” Lisette yelled out. “They didn’t alter any of your footage!”

  The crowd was fracturing, a fight about to erupt, when a large sky?blue tile - ceramic or perhaps metallic - slammed into their midst with an ear-splitting THUNK. There were a few screams, and everyone quickly stepped away.

  “Look…it came from there!” Marcus pointed up at the fake blue sky where a black square broke the illusion of a sky. Quickly, the blue shimmered and covered over the black.

  Chad looked first at the tile, then at Magnus, Priya and the Muellers. They all saw the word “WAIT” written clearly on the tile before it slowly dissolved into nothing. By the time the rest of the crowd could see, it was gone.

  “It said ‘Wait’, didn’t it?” Chad asked. The Muellers both muttered, “Ja”.

  “I didn’t see anything!” Karen said, looking around for support. Her group stayed quiet.

  “I’m a cop, Karen. I know what I saw! Magnus and Priya saw it too.” Chad glared back at Karen.

  But the angry energy had dissipated from the crowd.

  Samir spoke, his voice cutting through the remaining murmurs: “Why let us see the video at all? Why let us fight, then drop a tile to stop us? And if you smell the air now... CBD again. We're being managed. Why?”

  Even Karen’s group was quiet.

  Maureen seized the moment. “Everyone. Go home. We will speak with you - all of you...” she looked pointedly at Karen's group, “in the coming days. And we will find a way to strike back.”