Juan Gutierrez sat in the sterile waiting room of the Bakersfield Police Department, bouncing his leg nervously while his twin sister Julisa paced in front of the vending machine. They'd been here three times in the past week, and each visit brought the same frustrating lack of answers.

  "Juan and Julisa Gutierrez?" Detective Morrison emerged from the hallway, looking as tired as they felt. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

  "Any updates?" Julisa asked, not bothering with pleasantries. She'd been functioning on coffee and adrenaline for days.

  Detective Morrison gestured for them to sit. "We've got some developments, but I'm not sure you're going to like them."

  Juan's stomach dropped. "What kind of developments?"

  "We found your parents' vehicle. Old model Toyota pickup, white, license plate..." He consulted his notes. "7GKL849?"

  "That's Dad's truck," Julisa said quickly. "Where did you find it?"

  "Impound lot. It was towed from a rural road about twenty miles southeast of here a week ago. It was picked up by a local Triple-A towing service and sat in the body shop. The service tried to contact your parents for several days before towing it to our impound. Bill Hubbard, the impound manager, took a few more days to bring it up to our attention. Unfortunately, things run slow here in Bako. Bottom line, the truck's totaled—looks like it hit something big, or something big hit it, then rolled several times."

  The twins exchanged horrified glances. "Were they... were our parents in the truck?" Juan's voice was barely a whisper.

  "That's the strange part. No bodies, no blood, no sign of your parents at all." Detective Morrison leaned forward. "But here's where it gets complicated. The farmer who owns the land near where the truck was found is claiming that someone destroyed about fifty of his large almond trees. Big swath of destruction, like heavy machinery dragged through his field."

  "He thinks our parents did that?" Julisa's voice was getting louder. "Our dad can barely kill a spider without feeling guilty, and you think he's out there destroying orchards?"

  "I'm not saying they did it, at least not intentionally," Detective Morrison held up his hands. "But they're the only missing persons associated with the scene. The farmer's talking about pressing charges for property damage when we find them."

  Juan stood up abruptly. "This is bullshit. Our parents wouldn't destroy someone's property and then just disappear. Something happened to them."

  "Look, kids, I understand you're frustrated—"

  "Don't call us kids," Julisa snapped. "We're twenty-five years old, and our parents have been missing for over a week. What are you actually doing to find them?"

  Detective Morrison sighed. "I hear you. We’re doing the best we can. We've checked out the home a few times, checked in on both jobs, checked hospitals, morgues, contacted family in other states. We've put out a BOLO. But without any evidence of foul play..."

  "So you're giving up," Juan said flatly. ”What about the other vehicle? What hit them?”

  “At this point, if another vehicle was involved, it's clearly a hit and run with zero leads,” the detective continued, “I'm saying that sometimes adults make choices their families don't understand. Your parents might have had reasons to leave that you weren't aware of. Bakersfield has an underground nobody likes to mention. It definitely bleeds red with criminal activity in Oildale, certain parts of Old Town Kern, and east-side Bakersfield. But, to be honest, it hides under many a rock all over this town and many unincorporated areas. As we get more and more transplants from L.A. this town…"

  Julisa's face flushed red. "Our parents are no criminals, and wouldn't try to fake their own deaths. They left for a couples’ counseling appointment and never came back. That's not 'making bad choices,' that's something bad happening to them."

  Detective Morrison handed them a business card. "Our only lead, from your mother’s co-worker, led us to reach out to Dr. Anderson who wasn’t much help. They never made the appointment. We’re not giving up, but we are currently out of ideas. Here's the case number and my direct line. If anything else comes up, we'll call you immediately. I recommend lawyering up. Fred Hendrick is a sue-happy farmer. He might go after any assets your family has."

  As they walked out of the police station, Juan felt the weight of helplessness settling on his shoulders. "They're not going to look for them anymore, are they?"

  "No," Julisa said grimly. "They're not. Which means we have to."

  ?

  The Kern County impound lot was exactly as depressing as Juan had imagined—rows of twisted metal and broken dreams surrounded by chain-link fences topped with razor wire. He and Julisa stood at the gate, looking through at what remained of their father's beloved Toyota pickup.

  "Jesus," Julisa whispered.

  The truck looked like it had been put through a blender. The cab was crushed, the bed was twisted at an impossible angle, and the white paint was scraped down to bare metal in long gouges that looked almost deliberate.

  "You kids’ family?" A gruff voice made them turn. A heavyset man in coveralls was walking toward them, clipboard in hand.

  "That's our dad's truck," Juan said. "We're trying to figure out what happened to it."

  The man, whose name tag read "BILL," looked sympathetic. "Nasty wreck. Worst I've seen in twenty years. Weird as hell."

  "Can we look at it?" Julisa asked.

  "Cops said okay, long as you don't touch nothin." Bill unlocked the gate. "But, I've been told to warn you not to touch, It's evidence in an open case."

  They followed Bill through the maze of wrecked vehicles to where the Toyota sat like a metallic corpse. Juan immediately spotted his father's favorite travel mug, cracked but recognizable, lying in the bed of the truck.

  "The sheriff said the farmer thinks our parents vandalized his property," Julisa said, picking up a piece of their father's broken reading glasses.

  Bill snorted. "That's Fred Hendrick's farm. He’s been looking for an insurance payout for years. His trees were half dead from the drought anyway." He pointed to the damage pattern on the truck. "But I'll tell you what's weird—this was no normal crash. Look at these scrape marks and the bent frame here on the passenger side. They go up, not down. Like something lifted the truck from below. I've only seen something similar in a train collision."

  Julisa studied the gouges Bill was pointing to. Her engineering background made her notice things others might miss. "You're right. These marks... it's like something with claws picked up the truck and dropped it."

  "Course, that's impossible," Bill said quickly. "Must've hit a power line or something. The nearest train tracks are half a mile away."

  "Bill," Juan said, “Where'd you pick it up from?"

  Bill consulted his clipboard. "Old River Road, mile marker 47. Right next to Hendricks almond ranch."

  ?

  The drive to mile marker 47 took them through increasingly rural territory, past almond groves and cornfields that stretched to the horizon. Juan drove them in his work truck. Another white Toyota pickup, like his fathers, but modern. “Gutierrez Electrical Service” wrapped advertising on the side with a picture of his smiling face.

  “I just got it wrapped. What you think?”

  “Your face might be a deterrent. How's that helping you?”, Julisa asked with a smile.

  “That's more for the ladies.”Juan winked back.

  "Yeah, some desperate ones.”, Julisa pointed out, half joking.

  “I got it at a discount, it was a good deal. I can't tell you how many have told me…”

  “Wait! There,” Julisa said, pointing to a cluster of burnt-out road flares along the shoulder. “That must be where they found the truck.”

  Juan slowed, scanning the roadside. “I don’t see any markers. Probably just noted on a rural map.”

  As they drew closer, the evidence became unmistakable: scattered shards of broken glass glinting in the sun, twisted bits of metal, and the charred remains of flares half-buried in the dirt.

  They pulled off the road and stepped out. The afternoon heat slammed into them like a furnace door swinging open. The destruction Bill had described was impossible to miss—a wide, violent scar of uprooted almond trees leading from the grove straight to the pavement, as if something enormous had plowed through and kept going.

  “Look at this,” Julisa called, crouching beside the road. She lifted a jagged piece of black plastic. “Part of the rearview mirror.”

  Juan joined her, eyes sweeping the debris field. Broken glass. A crumpled strip of chrome bumper. Then something half-buried in the dust caught the light and stopped his heart.

  “Julisa. Look.”

  She followed his gaze. Lying in the dirt was the small Hawaiian hula dancer—the bobblehead that had sat on their father’s dashboard for as long as they could remember. Their dad had glued it there during the family trip to Hawaii when the twins were five, and it had never come off.

  “Dad would never leave this behind,” Julisa whispered, gently lifting the little figure. A thin layer of dust coated its plastic grass skirt, but the painted smile was still the same. “Not willingly.”

  Juan was scanning the circumference of the accident, from the path of destruction to the abandoned overgrown cornfield across the street when something caught his eye. Deep in the grove, almost hidden by the tall green and dried cornstalks, something was reflecting sunlight in the distance.

  "Julisa, do you see that?"

  She followed his gaze. "What is it?"

  "I don't know. But it's shiny. Could be an old Airstream camper."

  “Way too big for that. It’s deep in there.”

  They climbed over the fence and awkwardly made their way through the dense forest of stalks. There was no path and they had to push their way in with Juan leading the way. The closer they got to the shiny object the bigger it appeared.

  And then they saw it.

  Engulfed in the middle of a forest of cornstalks, about 100 meters from the road, sat what could only be described as a massive metallic orb. It was easily the size of a short school bus or shuttle. Curved oval edges, with two different-sized ends, similar to an egg on its side. A large mirrored-metallic egg. The surface was a polished silver that seemed to shift and ripple in the afternoon light. There was a dent on the nose that took away from the overall smoothness of the object.

  But what made Julisa's blood run cold was what sat in a pile directly in front of the object’s distorted nose: clothes. Clothes she immediately recognized.

  "Oh my God," Julisa whispered.

  Their father’s jeans, the ones with the hole in the left knee that Julisa was always teasing him to throw away. Their mother's blue dress, the one Julisa saw her wear to special occasions. Lifting it up, they could see their shoes, socks, even their underwear—everything laid out in layered piles as if they had simply undressed and walked away.

  Juan approached the pile with trembling hands. His dad's wallet was still in the back pocket of his jeans, along with his cell phone. Mom's purse sat next to her piled clothes, her keys still attached to the little pepper spray keychain Juan had given her for Christmas.

  "What happened to them?" Juan's voice was shaking. "Did they... did they just walk away naked?"

  “Mom, Dad!”, yelled Juan.

  “Mom, Dad!”, yelled Julisa.

  Nothing came back. Crows could be heard in the distance. They were deep in the cornfield away from Old River Road. Juan inspected the ground.

  “I don't see any footprints. I see tracks leading up to this thing, but that's it.”

  “Yeah, that is crazy odd. Did they head back to the road after they got undressed?”

  Juan studied the egg-shaped object and noticed something odd. It was definitely hovering a few inches off the ground, supported by no visible means. As he got closer, he could feel vibrations in the air, like standing next to a massive speaker playing subsonic frequencies.

  "It's floating. I'm going to touch it," he said. ”It's got to be some kind of blimp.”

  "Juan, wait no!"

  But Juan was already reaching out. The moment his fingertips made contact with the surface, he felt a tingling sensation, but nothing happened. The metal was solid and smooth, cool and almost liquid to the touch and immoveable.

  "It's not hurting me!" he said, in surprise.

  Julisa was relieved and rolled her eyes, not impressed. "What the hell is this? Makes no sense.”

  “This thing is anchored. Err, I cannot move it.”

  Julisa tried herself, and the object did not react, like she was pushing against a cinderblock wall.

  “Whoa, this is weird. Come on, let's see what's on the other side."

  They circled the object, looking around for their parents, both yelling out their names.

  On the far side, facing away from the road, Juan spotted what looked like a circular indentation in the surface, about twelve inches in diameter.

  "Julisa, look here."

  She joined him and examined the circle. "It looks like a large button?"

  "Only one way to find out." Juan pressed his index finger into the center of the indentation.

  A low humming vibration came from the back of the orb for a second, but nothing more.

  Juan pressed the circle several times in different spots, creating multiple sounds and vibrations but nothing more.

  Then Julisa had an idea. She wrapped both hands against the circle, covering the entire surface, and then pushed hard.

  The response was immediate. The object began humming louder, vibrations increasing until they could feel them in their bones. Then, with a soft hiss, a section of the surface simply dissolved, revealing an opening large enough for a person to walk through.

  Soft blue light and mist spilled out from the interior, and Juan could hear what sounded like artificial beeping noises.

  "Okay," Julisa said, taking a deep breath. "This is either the best idea we've ever had, or the last idea we'll ever have."

  "Our parents must have gone in there," Juan replied. "Which means we're going in too."

  "Should we take our clothes off first?", Julisa asked.

  "Wow, gross and too soon", Juan remarked.

  Juan and Julisa stood in front of the impossible object, neither moving for a moment, despite the opening waiting for them. The metallic egg sat there humming, the blue light spilling out like an invitation—or a trap.

  "You scared?" Juan asked.

  "Terrified. You?"

  "Same."

  They looked at each other, and something passed between them that needed no words. Twenty-five years of being twins, of sharing a womb and then a childhood and then the strange journey of growing up as two halves of a whole—it all came down to this moment.

  "Remember when we were eight," Julisa said, "and we found that rattlesnake in the backyard?"

  "And you wanted to catch it with a bucket?"

  "And you said it was a terrible idea but you helped me anyway?"

  Juan smiled despite himself. "This feels exactly like that."

  "Except the snake was probably safer."

  "Probably," Juan agreed. "You got your phone?"

  Julisa pulled it out, but the screen was completely black. She pressed the power button. Nothing. "It's dead."

  "What? You charged it this morning."

  "I know." She held it up toward the ship. "I think this thing is killing electronics. Look at yours."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Juan pulled out his phone. The screen flickered weakly, showing a battery indicator at 3% even though it had been at 87% when they'd arrived. As he watched, it dropped to 1%, then died completely.

  "Shit," Juan said. "No photos. No calling for help. No GPS if we need to get out of here."

  "We're going in completely blind," Julisa said.

  "Just like the rattlesnake," Juan said.

  "Except we can't call 911 when this goes wrong."

  They stood there, dead phones in their hands, staring at the opening that had appeared on the side of the ship.

  Without thinking, they fist-bumped each other as they would in the past and said without thinking, "Wonder twin powers, activate!", pocketed their useless phones, stepped through the opening and into the impossible.

  ?

  The moment Julisa crossed the threshold, every hair on her body stood on end. The air inside tasted like copper and ozone, making her teeth ache.

  "You feel that?" Juan whispered beside her.

  "Like standing next to a Tesla coil," Julisa said. His skin was tingling, almost buzzing.

  The interior of the craft defied physics. Despite the object being about 30 feet diameter on the outside, the inside was vast—easily ten times larger or more than should have been possible. The walls curved in impossible directions, covered with panels of softly glowing symbols that seemed to shift when Juan wasn't looking directly at them.

  "How is this possible?" Juan whispered.

  "Dimensional folding, maybe?" Julisa's engineering mind was trying to process what she was seeing. "Or some kind of spatial compression technology."

  “You work on this tech at the base?”, Juan wondered.

  “Hell no, this is all theoretical. This has got to be foreign tech.” The only thing Julisa was certain about. “We are nowhere even close to researching this. What is this?”

  The walls pulsed with a soft bioluminescence, colors shifting from blue to green to purple in slow waves. It reminded Juan of videos he'd seen of deep-sea creatures, things that lived so far down that they had to make their own light.

  "Do you hear that?" Julisa tilted her head.

  Juan listened. Underneath the hum of whatever powered this ship, there was something else. A rhythm. Almost like breathing, but mechanical. Or biological. Or both.

  "The ship's alive," Julisa breathed.

  "Don't say that."

  "I'm serious. Listen. That's not just machinery. That's... respiration or circulation or something organic."

  Juan didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to imagine they were standing inside something living. "Let's just find Mom and Dad and get out."

  "Agreed."

  They moved deeper into the ship, hands trailing along the walls for balance, memorizing the path back in case they needed to run.

  They immediately found themselves in what appeared to be a corridor lined with alcoves. In three of the alcoves, they could see large cylindrical pods, each about the size of a pill-shaped curved phone booth, filled with swirling mist.

  All of a sudden Julisa let out a scream of terror. Juan's eyes widened and mouth opened in disbelief. Surrounding the pods on the floor were piles of what looked like decayed human bodies.

  Juan counted about twenty bodies. All faced down. One had their arm on a pod.

  "What the fuck is this?", Julisa asked. "Is this, are they real?"

  Juan, thinking it was a Halloween prop, decided to pick up one of the bodies by the long black hair to turn it around. The hair felt dry and slimy, and he immediately dropped it on the floor and shrieked. The face looked right at him with cloudy eyes. The skin looked shriveled, mummified, with a blue hue and an expression of intense pain.

  "What is this freak show? This is real and gross. We need to get the fuck out!", Juan demanded.

  "What about Mom and Dad?" Julisa asked, "Let's make sure they're not in here."

  "Okay, but I'm officially grossed out."

  "Don't touch anything else," Julisa said, her voice shaking. She was in full engineer mode now—analyze the problem, document the evidence, find the solution. It was the only way to keep the panic at bay.

  Juan ignored her and bent down next to another of the bodies anyway. "We need to know if Mom and Dad are..."

  He couldn't finish the sentence. Instead, he carefully examined the clothing scattered among the corpses. Different styles, different eras by the look of it. Some looked ancient—rough woven fabric, primitive stitching. Others looked more modern, but still old. Nothing looked contemporary.

  "These people have been dead for a long time," Julisa said, kneeling beside him. "Look at the decomposition. They're mummified."

  "How long does that take?"

  "Depends on conditions. Could be years. Decades. Maybe longer in here." She gestured at the strange atmosphere of the ship. "Who knows how time works in this place."

  Juan wished he had his phone, wished he could document this somehow. But all they had was their eyes and their memories. "I'm counting twenty-three bodies total. All face down."

  "Like they were trying to get somewhere," Julisa observed, noting the direction most of them were facing.

  "Or running from something."

  They both went quiet at that thought.

  Juan stood up, his electrician's eye scanning the ceiling. "You see those cables?"

  "Yeah. They're damaged. Sparking."

  "And they shouldn't be visible at all. This looks like emergency repairs. Like something broke and they just patched it without caring how it looked."

  "Something went very wrong on this ship," Julisa said quietly.

  "Obviously." Juan gestured at the bodies. "Question is what. And whether Mom and Dad—"

  "Don't," Julisa cut him off. "We don't know anything yet. Maybe these people died a long time ago. Maybe Mom and Dad are somewhere else on the ship. Maybe they got out."

  "Their clothes are outside."

  "I know."

  "All of them. Every piece."

  "I know, Juan!" Julisa's voice cracked. "I know, okay? But we don't know what that means yet. We don't know anything yet."

  They stood among the dead in silence, and Juan felt the weight of it settling into his bones. Twenty-three people who'd died here, far from home, for reasons they didn't understand.

  And somewhere—maybe on this ship, maybe not—their parents' fate was equally unknown.

  "We need to keep looking," Juan said finally. "Check the whole ship. Find answers."

  "Agreed."

  "And if we find... if Mom and Dad are..."

  "We'll deal with it," Julisa said firmly. "Together. Like always."

  Juan nodded. With no way to call for help and no way to document what they were seeing, they only had each other to rely on.

  Just two kids from Bakersfield, way out of their depth, searching for parents who might already be lost.

  But they'd keep searching anyway. Because that's what you did for family.

  Large cables draped haphazardly down from the ceiling, with occasional sparks appearing, giving the impression that some of the interior was under duress.

  "Are those... other rooms?" Julisa asked.

  Before Juan could answer, one of the pods began to open with a soft hiss. Mist poured out, and slowly, a large figure emerged.

  It was tall—nearly eight feet—with pale gray skin and long white hair that seemed to float around its head. Its eyes were completely black and there were mouth movements but no sound. Then all of a sudden it hit the twins unexpectedly fast.

  Welcome. We have been expecting you.

  “Expecting us?" Juan's voice cracked. The voice was in his head, but how? "Who are you? What is happening? Juli, are you hearing this?"

  “Yeah, I think so.”, Julisa answered. “Welcome? Who you? Where are our parents?”

  I am known as Vark-Zeth. We are... travelers. Your parents? What do you mean?

  Wait, am I saying or thinking this, right now? Thought Julisa

  Currently, we are communicating cerebelli. It is the most optimal way. These beings attacked us and caused damage to our ship. Let me investigate what happened.

  Talk about a mind-fuck. Thought Juan. I can also hear your thoughts, Julisa.

  Yeah, same here. It’s loud.

  Oh, sorry. Not sure how to control the volume.

  We are all interconnected in the cerebral link I initiated.

  All of this was overwhelming to the twins. The new voices in their heads were not much different than their own inner voices. In fact, it was impossible for them to tell the difference.

  I need to assess our temporal and cardinal positions, Vark-Zeth explained.

  The large grey being started maneuvering about the area around the pods in a quick and natural way. Moving bodies, out of the way, piling them in a corner. Vark-Zeth made a quick assessment of the fallen paneling and cables, and initiated a holographic heads up display out of thin air. This startled the twins, but they patiently waited to see what would happen next.

  The head-up display showed a celestial map with the movement of an object. Julisa thought it represented a history log of the orb traveling through space. The red dashed line showed the moving away from one object as the object spun around the center of another object moving at a different angle away from the ship's trajectory. Then, after a few seconds, the object's trajectory appeared to perform a U-turn heading back…

  Temporal, cardinal? Julisa stepped forward. You mean time travel?

  I need more information about who you refer to as parents. Juan and Julisa, close your eyes, and think about them for me to visualize. I will start scanning…

  An overwhelming feeling of emotions hit the twins all at once. Excitement, anger, surprise, fear, and sadness.

  Whoa, Juan dropped to his knees. This is too much. Tears falling down his face.

  Julisa laughed and cried uncontrollably. Those memories felt so real. So many all at once.

  Your ‘parents’ are not on this vessel. I will check the ship's perimeter sensors. Vark-Zeth opened up a different head up display. Red flashing symbols appeared over foreign looking caricatures followed with a high pitched noise.

  Our temporal shield is offline. Time dilation has been corrupted.

  Temporal shield, time dilation? What does that mean?, Julisa pondered, Is this a time machine or spacecraft?

  This vessel does both. The meaning is this vessel is grounded. For now. We need to perform repairs.

  What about our parents? Juan asked. Their clothes were right outside this ship. Where they go… naked?

  Where was this observed? Think about the event.

  Another session of emotions, the twins simultaneously screaming in agony.

  “Stop! That's a lot!”Juan yelled.

  “Why is it painful?” Julisa asked.

  Retrieving short-term memory is more difficult than long-term. The clothing is near the nose of the ship. This is improbable…

  “Wow, what a mind fuck! What's not probable?”, Juan asked.

  Vark-Zeth went immediately to a different side of the room, pushing aside disturbed paneling. Your parents.

  He pulled out a wand from behind the wall panel. Immediately a hologram image appears projected from the attached wand.

  “Are those schematics?”, asked Julisa.

  You are observant. More than schematics. We can also determine anomalies throughout this vessel. The vessel plans detect that our temporal shield integrity was compromised during the fall. I'm running a repair sequence.

  “What is the shield's purpose?”, Juan asked.

  Protection, cloaking, and temporal displacement.

  At that moment Julisa had a shocking thought. What, what would happen if someone touched the shield, like our parents?

  Incineration upon contact. The shield creates an impermeable surface surrounding the vessel. Anything biological and most solids are dissolved on contact. That is, when the shield is in protection mode.

  “Was it?, Juan asked eagerly.

  Yes, it was prior to the fall. Currently, the shield is compromised. That is why you were both able to enter.

  “So, are they gone, gone?”, asked

  I am not detecting their presence. No biological signatures. They are gone from here.

  “So our parents are dead.” Julisa got down on her knees and started sobbing. Juan put his arms around her.

  Not dead, displaced, perhaps. Vark-Zeth initiated the other sleeping pods. Further investigation is needed.

  The twins watched as the other two pods hissed and opened up, revealing the other large grey aliens. They were similar in height. Same white hair and black eyes, but each had unique features that differentiated them.

  Juan noticed the aliens glancing at each other quietly. Not a word could be heard amongst them. After a few head movements and arm pointing. The aliens started going about their business.

  The twins suddenly were unable to hear each other’s thoughts as if disconnected. Julisa found it odd that they didn't introduce themselves or weren't curious about them being on their ship. Julisa glanced at Juan shrugging her shoulders.They both were perplexed and clearly out of their element.

  “They seem to be in a hurry to fix up the ship.” Juan observed. “Why are they not engaging with us?”

  “It is odd behavior.” Julisa answered. “They seem to only talk using their minds. But we can't hear what they say. Like they're snubbing us on purpose.”

  “I have a feeling we are considered, like house cats.” Juan concluded. Did you see how Var-whats-his-name piled up those bodies? It's like, no respect. Might as well be piling up logs.”

  “Honestly, this is getting creepier by the minute. Julisa stated. “Maybe, we should…”

  Take off, Vark-Zeth interrupted. No need, we are working on finding your parents. Drul-Korath and Thal-Vorik are assisting with repairs. Multiple systems have been compromised by the uprising and the ship's rapid descent.

  “Uprising?” Julisa asked. “Who are, I mean were, these people around your pods?”

  They were from a past civilization long gone, destroyed by a great flood. We were… transporting them to our home world for trade. They brought value to our citizens.

  “Wait, trade. Like commerce, like slaves” Juan asked.

  They came on their own free will. We provided for their well being. They all knew what was expected from them.

  “Why the uprising then?” Julisa pondered.

  They broke contract mid-flight and tried to return back.

  “So they are from our history, our past? Why would they want to return back?”

  Precisely. They are from over fifty thousand of your solar rotations. A civilization long gone, destroyed by a major flood. We predicted the disaster and offered them a new life.

  “fifty thousand years ago? How is that possible? What area of our planet were they from?”

  Our vessel travels on different dimensional planes of existence. Our planets are on one plane but the distance is tremendous. The vessel traverses the distance through a temporal plane that narrows the distance significantly. Our people have conquered the science of traversing stars, many of our solar rotations ago. Without this technology our civilization would have died out.

  Making repairs of our vessel is our priority. Our shield is down and we are visible and unprotected.

  That's when the twins noticed that the opening they'd entered through had quickly sealed itself. They were trapped.

  ?

  Juan and Julisa had spent the last two days essentially living on the alien spacecraft. Vark-Zeth had been surprisingly hospitable, providing them with food (which tasted like a cross between tofu and cardboard) and sleeping quarters (which felt like sleeping inside a refrigerator).

  But Julisa's engineering background was picking up inconsistencies in Vark-Zeth's story.

  "Juan," she whispered as they walked through what Vark-Zeth called the "navigation sector," "have you noticed how spacious this ship is, almost never ending?"

  Juan nodded. "And those sealed sections he won't let us into. Plus, did you see how his eyes shifted when I asked about other ships?"

  They passed a corridor that hummed with different energy than the rest of the ship. Juan stopped.

  "What's that sound?"

  "Vark-Zeth said it's the temporal engine cooling down," Julisa replied, but her voice carried doubt.

  Juan pressed his ear to the wall. The sound wasn't mechanical—it was organic. Like breathing. Or moaning.

  "Julisa, I think—"

  "Ah, there you are!" Vark-Zeth's actual voice boomed behind them, causing both twins to jump. The alien stood squarely between them and the sealed corridor, blocking the view like a living barricade.

  Julisa's eyes narrowed. "We were just... looking around."

  Vark-Zeth tilted his head, the gesture almost too human. "Curiosity is admirable. But some areas are... restricted. For safety."

  Juan stepped forward, voice steady despite the adrenaline. "Safety from what?"

  The alien's black eyes flickered—once, twice—like a camera lens adjusting. "Structural instability. Temporal residue. Nothing you need concern yourselves with."

  "Actually," Julisa said, "I'd love to understand more about your temporal technology. As a mechanical engineer, it's fascinating."

  "Yes, well, perhaps later," Vark-Zeth replied, his tone smooth but final. "The systems are quite complex and, ah, dangerous for untrained minds."

  Juan felt an odd pressure behind his eyes—subtle at first, like the onset of a headache. Then his legs locked. He tried to step sideways, toward the sealed corridor, but his feet refused to move. It wasn't paralysis; it was something else. His body simply... wouldn't obey.

  He glanced at Julisa. Her face had gone pale. She was straining forward, muscles tense, but her feet stayed rooted to the deck.

  Do not struggle, Vark-Zeth's voice bloomed inside their heads again, calm and clinical. Cerebral override is for your safety.

  Julisa's jaw clenched. "Let us go."

  Curiosity is admirable, the alien continued, stepping closer. But some areas are restricted. Structural instability. Temporal residue. Nothing you need concern yourselves with.

  Juan tried again to lift his foot. Nothing. His body felt like it belonged to someone else—still his, still feeling every heartbeat and tremor of fear, but the commands to move in any direction except the one Vark-Zeth allowed simply... didn't arrive.

  That's when he heard it—a faint, muffled sound drifting from behind the sealed doors. Not mechanical. Not alien. Humans. voices—weak, desperate—calling for help in languages he didn't recognize.

  And it was coming from the one place Vark-Zeth clearly didn't want them to see.

  Juan's blood ran cold. He locked eyes with Julisa. She heard it too. Her face hardened, but her body remained frozen in place, controlled cerebrally by the alien standing between them and the truth.

  Vark-Zeth's black eyes flickered—once, twice—like a camera lens adjusting. Come.There is much more to show you. The processing center is far more... enlightening.

  Neither twin could move in the opposite direction. Their legs simply wouldn't respond.

  The muffled cry came again. Fainter. More frantic.

  Juan's mind raced, searching for any way to break the hold, but Vark-Zeth's presence in their heads was absolute—quiet, unhurried, inescapable.

  The alien turned and began to glide away, fully expecting them to follow.

  And against their will, their feet began to move—step by step—in the direction he had chosen.

  ?

  Vark-Zeth led them through a series of twisting corridors that seemed to shift when they weren't looking. The humming grew louder, the air thicker with that copper-ozone tang. Finally, they entered a vast chamber lined with rows of large vertical glass tubes, each backed by a gleaming metal panel. The tubes were filled with swirling mist, and mechanical arms hung from the ceiling like dormant spiders.

  Juan's stomach turned. This wasn't navigation. This was a processing room.

  Before he could protest, Vark-Zeth's cerebral control tightened on Julisa. Her eyes widened as her body began to move forward—stiff, mechanical, like a puppet on strings. Juan tried to reach for her, but his arms locked at his sides. He was paralyzed, forced to watch in horror as his twin sister walked under mind control toward one of the glass tubes.

  Observe the process, Vark-Zeth explained telepathically, his voice systematic and detached, like a lecturer describing a routine procedure. It is efficient and necessary for transport preparation.

  Julisa stepped into the tube, her back against the vertical metal backing. Straps snaked out automatically, wrapping around her wrists and her shod feet, securing her in place. She struggled briefly, her face twisting in silent protest, but the control held firm.

  First, the primary substrate, Vark-Zeth continued. It fills the chamber quickly to sanitize the body of external contaminants.

  The tube sealed with a hiss, and a clear liquid substrate began to pour in from vents at the base, rising fast. Vark-Zeth's voice bloomed in Juan's head again: Hold your breath, Julisa. The substrate is breathable but unpleasant at first.

  Julisa's chest rose as she inhaled deeply, eyes locked on Juan's in terror. The liquid reached her chin, then submerged her completely. Bubbles formed around her skin as the substrate worked—sanitizing, cleansing, stripping away any trace of her original world.

  Juan's heart pounded. He wanted to scream, to shatter the glass, but he couldn't even open his mouth.

  Now, the secondary substrate, Vark-Zeth narrated. It dissolves all non-biological materials, preparing the subject for stasis.

  A second, slightly cloudy liquid began to mix in, filling the tube up to her neck. Julisa's clothes started to bubble and disintegrate—first the fabric fraying, then completely dissolving into nothing. She was left naked, exposed, her body floating slightly in the liquid. Juan's face burned with shock and dismay, a helpless rage boiling inside him as he was forced to witness his sister's humiliation.

  One of the other aliens—perhaps Flik-Drav—manned a nearby control panel, its long fingers dancing over holographic displays, adjusting flows and readings with clinical precision.

  Final preparation: gastrointestinal evacuation, Vark-Zeth explained. Ensures the subject is fully optimized for long-term stasis.

  Julisa's legs were forced apart as she stood, the straps adjusting to spread her stance. Metallic flexible probing tubes snaked down from the top of the tube and up from the bottom. Her mouth was pried open by an invisible force, and the tubes entered her body from both ends—smooth, relentless, evacuating her gastrointestinal system in a process that made her eyes water and her body tremble.

  Juan averted his gaze, but the cerebral control forced his head to turn back, making him watch every horrifying second.

  After Julisa's processing in the tube, a slot opened in the top of the chamber. A gray tunic dropped out—shapeless, rough fabric that looked like it had been woven from coarse thread and regret. It landed at her feet with a soft thud.

  Dress quickly, Vark-Zeth's voice instructed, calm and clinical. Transport to holding awaits.

  The straps released. Julisa stepped out on unsteady legs, skin glistening from the final rinse, eyes wide and distant. She pulled the tunic over her head without a word, the material hanging loose and scratchy against her bare skin like a burlap potato sack. She didn't look at Juan. She couldn't.

  Now it was his turn.

  Vark-Zeth's cerebral grip shifted, guiding Juan forward with the same inexorable pull. His legs moved against his will, carrying him into the second tube. The glass sealed behind him with a hiss that felt final. Straps snaked out—cold metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles, locking him upright against the vertical backing.

  Juan's heart hammered. He tried to speak, to curse, to beg Julisa to help him, but the override clamped down on his throat. All he could do was watch her through the glass—silent, hollow-eyed, wrapped in that awful gray cloth—while the process began on him.

  Primary substrate initiating, Vark-Zeth narrated, voice blooming inside Juan's skull like an unwanted guest. Sanitization of external contaminants. Hold your breath.

  The tube filled fast. Clear liquid rose from the base, cold and thick, climbing his legs, his waist, his chest. Juan inhaled sharply just before it reached his chin. The substrate enveloped him completely, tingling at first, then burning as it scrubbed every pore, every hair follicle, every trace of Earth from his skin. Bubbles formed and burst around him; he could feel the liquid working its way into every crease and fold, sterilizing him like lab equipment.

  He wanted to scream. He couldn't.

  Secondary substrate, Vark-Zeth continued. Dissolution of non-biological materials.

  A second liquid—thicker, faintly cloudy—poured in, rising to his neck. His clothes began to bubble and fray, threads unraveling, fabric dissolving into nothing. In seconds he was naked, exposed, the substrate swirling around his bare skin. Shame and rage burned hotter than the liquid ever could.

  Juan locked eyes with Julisa through the glass. She stared back, expression blank, as if the violation had hollowed her out too.

  Final preparation: gastrointestinal evacuation, Vark-Zeth explained, tone unchanged. Ensures subject is fully optimized for stasis.

  His legs were forced apart, straps adjusting to spread his stance. Metallic flexible probes descended from the top of the tube and rose from the bottom—smooth, relentless, clinical. His mouth was pried open by an invisible force. The tubes entered him from both ends, cold and unyielding, snaking deep. Juan's body convulsed as the evacuation began—his stomach, intestines, everything purged in a brutal, mechanical rush. The sensation was beyond pain; it was erasure.

  Time stretched. Minutes became hours in his mind. When it finally ended, a clear liquid cascaded down, washing away the residue. The cylinder drained. The straps released.

  A slot opened in the top. A gray tunic dropped out—identical to Julisa's, shapeless, rough, like burlap potato sack against his skin.

  Dress quickly, Vark-Zeth instructed. Transport to holding awaits.

  Juan stepped out on shaking legs. The fabric scraped his raw skin as he pulled it on. He didn't look at Julisa. He couldn't bear to see the same emptiness in her eyes that he felt in his own chest.

  And in that moment, he realized that getting their parents back was no longer their biggest problem.

  ?

  Jeff here, pacing the observation deck like a caged animal—again.

  Watching those twins endure... that. The violation. The erasure. Why didn't I step in? Why let the slavers play their game?

  The rules are ironclad: no meddling with biological entities, no yanking strings on sentient lives. It's the line between overseer and overreacher.

  But here's the whisper in my head: pain like that doesn't just scar—it forges. What if their suffering bends toward something bigger, a purpose that ripples out and rights old cosmic imbalances?

  I'm not saying I know. I'm not saying I planned it. Just... knowing that the universe has a way of turning despair into awakening.

  Until next time.

  The worry's eating me alive.

  ?