When Thomas was young, he would paint his nails, just to chip off the paint when he was nervous. He tried hard not to do that now as he stood with his parents and his nine siblings. They were the biggest family on the moon. Most were no larger than four members: parents and two kids. A few were allowed five. Six or more was not acceptable. Somehow, Thomas' parents were able to keep him and his siblings a secret; only allowing a select few out of their apartment at a time.
Thomas remembers times when they were almost caught.
"Ah, Mrs. Jefferson… That's quite a few little ducklings following behind you." A family friend would tease, but not without suspicion.
His mother was a master at lying. She didn't even blink, feigning disinterest. "Hm? Oh, yes, well. My husband and I agreed that we deserve a servant or two. And then my lovely darlings asked if they could have their own, and, well, how could I say no?"
The three eldest children puffed out their chests and looked down at the rest of them degradingly. Thomas picked at his nail polish, feeling just as pitiful as the role he was supposed to play.
"Have you done my homework yet?" Lucy asked, her lip curling.
Thomas's gaze fell to the floor, "Well…"
His mother interrupted, speaking to the accuser, "Now, every Moonie is entitled to their own servant. Why is my family any different?"
"You certainly got yourself some young ones." The lady muttered, crossing her arms. Her gaze burned Thomas' skin. He wanted her to leave.
"Well, it is called 'Life Servitude' for a reason, dear." His mother hummed, leading her children away, "Wouldn't want some crusty old man who'll die before he even gets me my tea."
That was before they were found out.
Once they were discovered, they were put on trial for breaking the laws of the Moon. It was explicitly clear; only those who were granted permission were allowed to have three children. Never four. And definitely never ten. But the Jeffersons tend to do whatever they wanted.
Now was not the case. Thomas's fingers inched forward to chip off some of his nail polish, but Lucy grabbed his hand and held it by her side. She didn't look at him as she muttered, "Thomas, don't. Be a good puppet and don't move."
Thomas hated that word. He hated his role in his family. He hated that he was born. He hated that he was born on the Moon. He hated his life. He was told all the time how special he was for living on the moon. All he felt like was a dirty secret that no one wanted.
He clenched his jaw, watching as his father spoke in front of the Queen.
"My Lady," He said, "We are not at fault here. We have only-"
"If you do not wish for the death of all of your family, you will listen to me very carefully." She said.
She was not much older than Thomas, himself. But she had made the law that there would be no jails on the moon; there was not enough space for that kind of thing. Instead, all those found guilty would be punished immediately. If the crime was truly a petty one, or, if the guilty begged enough, they would be sent to Mars. Worse criminals were sent to Earth. The worst of all were killed; their bodies shot out into space to die horribly. Only the queen could decide the fate of each criminal. No one else had a say. Thomas silently prayed that they would all be evicted to Mars.
The queen continued speaking, "You may keep one and only one. The other nine must be sent away."
"To Mars?" His father asked hopefully.
"Some." The queen nodded. "The rest must go to the Earth."
"My queen," His father said slowly, "Some of these children are … children! They cannot survive on their own on Earth!"
The queen spoke clearly, "Do I not do my best for each and every one of my citizens, Peter?"
"Y-yes, my queen."
"I will ensure that every child that is sent away will have a satisfying life. They will be taken care of. Regardless of where they land; they are still my children, and I will still protect them. Am I understood?"
His father nodded slowly, "Yes, my queen."
The queen nodded and then gestured to the line of children. "So? Which shall stay?"
His mother spoke up then, "My queen, forgive me for speaking out of turn, but, I know you have not birthed, and so you may not understand what you are saying. You cannot simply ask a mother to pick one of her children over the others."
"No…" The queen agreed, nodding slowly, "But I can demand it. Pick a child, or I will. The child I pick will stay by my side and you will have none of them. These are my terms. Your choice and you keep it, or my choice and it's mine."
His parents turned to their kids, expressions ones of clear distraught. The kids started shifting awkwardly, glancing at one another. In their minds, they were trying to figure out which one is the favorite. Which one should get the right to the Moon. Which one is the most worthy.
"It should be the youngest." Lucy, the oldest, suggested. "I have lived nineteen years on this rock. I know it well. I will have memories of it to hold close for when I am gone."
"No, don't talk like that!" Anna Scott cried. "What if you get sent to Earth?"
"I don't wanna go…" PT whispered, unable to look away from the queen's calculating gaze.
"It should be me! I should be the one to stay! I would die without my medication!"
"Uh, the queen would take care of you. You can get drugs anywhere."
"It should be Peter! He needs to stay with you!"
"No, it should be Randy!"
"Jane!"
"Liz!"
No one suggested that it be Thomas who stays on the moon. But maybe that was because they had seen how he stared out at the planet that they orbit, wondering what kind of life might be awaiting him there. It would be easy to gain access. No one would bother him. He'd be free to be the kind of man he always wanted to be.
His mother turned to the queen, "I can't! I can't choose which child lives and which ones must die, alone, on a foreign planet! You cannot make me!"
The queen didn't blink as she lifted a hand. The guards around the room reacted suddenly, as if they could tell what she was thinking. They grabbed the children by the arms and forced the parents to kneel on the ground. The queen's gaze flicks from each and every face, determining their fate, right in front of everyone.
"Earth."
"Earth."
"Mars."
"Earth."
"Mars."
"Mars."
"Mars."
Finally, she gets to Thomas. She pauses, watching him carefully.
"Him. He shall sit by my feet while the rest are sent away." The queen said evenly. "My coordinators will ensure the children are flying off tonight."
"Can we see say goodbye to them?" His father asked.
"Of course not." The queen replied, "This is your punishment for breaking the law. Be glad I don't have you killed."
"It would be kinder." His mother spat.
Thomas was pulled to the side by a guard. He watched as his siblings, his family, were led away. They disappeared behind double doors, supposedly to start their own lives elsewhere. Eventually, the room was empty, save for himself, the guards, and the girl who sat on the throne.
"How old are you, child?" The queen asked him.
Thomas swallowed hard, replying, "Fourteen."
He looked down; his nails were bare.
"Shh, Alex, why you whine?" The Fualtic Alex asked, gentle hands sliding against his own. He hated how his skin tingled against the touch. He hated that he almost leaned into it. He hated that he still wanted to be close to this man, even if he wasn't human.
Alex looked away, closing his eyes and turning his head. He couldn't form the words to describe what was wrong with this situation, especially to a rather dense alien species.
"I'm here to help you, puppet." Alien Alex sighed, leaning down to press their bodies together. Alex almost moaned at the contact, and immediately felt shame rise in him.
He shook his head, words failing him once again. He used to be so good with his voice; so elegant and eloquent. But now he was, literally, speechless. He tapped Alien Alex's forehead twice.
"Hm? No?" The Fuatlic understood the movement from the vet who spoke with him. Alex squirmed and tapped twice again. "No what? What need, Alex?"
Alex just kept shaking under him, tears forming in his eyes. His throat was simultaneously too dry and too wet to provide an actual response. He just repeatedly tapped the alien with shaking fingers.
"You do not understand." Alien Alex said quietly, brushing back some of Alex's hair. He smiled, nodding as he spoke, "You are in the heat. You need a mate, and then you will be not sick. I am the mate for you! I'm useful!"
Alex shook his head again, with a little more vigor this time. He pushed a hand against the copy of his chest, trying to keep him away. His other hand continued its incessant tapping on the alien's head.
"What I do wrong?" Alien Alex asked, looking a little lost. "What are your heats normally like?"
The human let out a shuddering breath as Alien Alex's fingers drifted up and down his chest. His head fell limply to the sides, his best attempt at shaking his head. He pulled his hands away from the alien, they weakly flopped down on his face; hiding himself from the creature before him.
Pausing, Alien Alex decides to step into his body's memories to try an get some insite on what to do. He discovered many things about Alexander's life; but nothing involving a heat. He found that the Earth is very hot, and his sun had burned him. But Alien Alex didn't think that was what he was supposed to be looking for.
"Question:" Alien Alex finally said, breaking the silence. "Do humans have the heat?"
Alex's pinkie lifted and fell twice on his own cheek.
Alien Alex shifted awkwardly above him. His expression was blank as he tried to figure out what to do next. The vet gave them false information. They had no idea how to fix their human now.
Alex whined as the comforting weight of the alien climbed off of him. He didn't look from behind his hands as the Fualtic brushed back his hair gently, "You stay, puppet."
The door opened and closed.
Alex curled in on himself, on top of his sheets. The shivers that wracked his body were not from the cold. For a second, he was thankful for the solitude of his own room. But it only lasted a second.
Loathing burned in his chest as he found himself watching the door, hoping that Alien Alex would return. He wouldn't struggle this time. He wouldn't refuse. If the other man would just come back and hold him close - he could pretend to be in heat.
He could be good.
Thomas' hands grasped uselessly at the air as he walked down the hall. He tried to convince himself that Alex was going to be okay. Because now they knew where he was. Realistically, that doesn't helped them at all. They can't travel to the other side of the fucking universe.
Maybe they could contact other aliens and have those aliens take Alex away from the previous aliens and then they could have some strange alien bussing system, in order to get Alex home. He was honestly considering pitching the idea to the Captain when he heard a soft grunt from down a more secluded hall.
Thomas hesitated, wondering what that could have been. He slowed his steps carefully, so they wouldn't echo. Peaking around the corner, he almost choked on air at what he saw.
Gilbert was pushed up against the wall, a knife at their throat. Two low level workers were crowded around them. One was flicking messy white goop all over the place. The same white goop that trickled out of the cuts on Gilbert's face.
"The fuck is this shit, man?" One hisses, pulling a face at the white substance.
"I don't know, his fuckin cum or some shit." The other growls. The knife cuts a little deeper into Gilbert's skin, "You gettin' off on this?"
The first man slams his fist against Gilbert's jaw before they can respond. A gut-wrenching sound escaped the alien's lips. The second trails the tip of the knife up and down Gilbert's throat, pressing in occasionally to listen to Gilbert's breathing choke.
"Go back to where you came from, you peice of shit!" One of them shouts. Another punch to the face. Their lip is bleeding and they have a black eye.
Despite this, they cock their head to the side and say as clearly as they can, "I ... literally cannot … do that."
Thomas felt his knees shaking as he stepped forward, "What is the meaning of this?!"
The men jump in surprise, turning to look at him.
"S-sir!" One says, "We were just correcting this Immigrant, on behalf of the human race."
Thomas crosses his arms, disgusted anger in his eyes, "Excuse me?"
"W-well," The second explains, "He lost our guy. Hamilson. His people took 'em. We were just showing him who he was messin' with."
"Firstly, his name is Hamilton." Thomas said, taking calculated steps forward. He straightened his back and tipped his chin up so he was literally looking down on these idiots. "Secondly, if you have any human decency, stop misgendering them."
The two men glanced at each other, sharing nervous expressions.
"Thirdly." Thomas said, his voice dropping an octave, "this situation is far above you. If you honestly think you are doing any sort of good, or, Gods forbid, being helpful, you're stupider than you look. The Captain will hear about this. You will be thrown on Earth for your crimes to humanity's newest ally, where you will rot for the rest of your days. You will never be granted re-entry to Mars. Have I made myself clear?"
Pale, horrified faces stared at him. Slowly they mumbled, "Yessir."
"Give me your holograms, and get the fuck out of my way." Thomas growled.
The two scrambled to drop their holographic devices into his awaiting hand. Thomas also confiscated the knife. The two man disappeared down the hall, their footsteps echoing as they left.
As soon as they were gone, Thomas let out a deep, shuddering breath. He hated confrontation. Ignoring his own pounding heart, Thomas turned to Gilbert, who was slowly sinking down against the wall.
Thomas dropped to his knees to get a better look at the gasping alien. "Are you alright? Oh gods, are you dying? What's happening, what do I need to do?"
"Light." Gilbert growled out, their throat gurgling as a new stream of white mess spilled out of the cuts.
"Light? Like, a flashlight?" Thomas asked, shaking the alien when they couldn't open up their eyes. "Gilbert?!"
"Sun … light." Gilbert mumbled, slumping against Thomas' shoulder.
Thomas cussed rather colorfully as he picked up the copy of his own body. He moved as quickly as he could, running almost completely on adrenaline. He silently thanked his queen that the attack happened relatively close to his room. He had a huge window in there that he liked for stargazing. He pushed himself into the room; sliding to the couch that was in front of the window. Briefly, he remembered when he had to move the thing to put a table there, in attempts to woo Alexander. He shook his head, now is not the time to think about such things.
He gently laid the alien down on the couch and then turned to the window. It currently had thick blinds on it, to keep out excess radiation and light. With very little thought to his own health, Thomas punched the button on the wall that would remove the barrier. He grunted and averted his eyes as the blinds slowly moved up the wall; revealing more and more light. He watched as the sun's beams steadily moved across the floor until it was shining a warm patch over the couch. Thomas stopped the blind's ascent from there; giving Gilbert plenty of sunlight, while not completely bombarding the room with the sun's rays.
Gilbert let out a soft sigh as their body went slack on the couch cushions. The white splotches of - blood? - across their face and clothes start to glow softly under the light. Thomas bites his lip as he waits for something to happen.
He's expecting some immediate transformation. He's expecting Gilbert to jump up and start running their mouth. He's expecting them to be okay.
But nothing happens.
The white spots glow a bit, but other than that, the alien is completely lax. Thomas' hand flies to his mouth when he realizes that they're not even breathing anymore. He stumbles, his knees weak.
"Oh gods." Thomas whispers, "My queen, please do not kill this alien on my couch,"
The silence and stillness grows to be too much for Thomas. He shakily steps away from the couch. His eyes are locked with the alien's broken face. Their nose was busted, their eye swollen, their lip cut, and their entire neck covered in white slime.
Thomas bit his lip as he said, "I-I'm going to be right back. I'm going to get James. Please, don't die."
With that, Thomas escaped his own room, sprinting down the metal halls of the Enterprise, trying desperately to make it in time. He hopes, he prays that the creature he left in his room will be alive when he returns.
Tell me what you think!
(I'm pretty sure Thomas was actually the third born, so he would have been "safe", but you probably didn't know that, so I can do what I want.)
(also, ten chapters, wtf, I was only thinking this was gonna be 3 or 4 chapters, what happened?)