Entry 2- To you, From me

Today was my 725th attempt at sending signals and maneuvering the ship homeward. My investigation into 'what hit us' continues, still futile. I haven’t given up hope—hope is the only thing left for me to hold on to. Every day, I learn something new. I learned Mathelian, though it’s a shame Goliath isn’t around to talk with me. I’ve taken it upon myself to learn some gardening too. Daniella would have been impressed. We... I am lightyears away from home, but I haven’t moved an inch since the crash—at least, not physically. Mentally, I’m shattered. I’m like a fragile package of babushka dolls made of ice chips, ready to crumble at any moment.

Today, I’ve decided to tend to the hybrid fruits I planted. They’re right beside the big glass window. The big window staring out into the abyss, positioned just right so that Dahln can provide enough energy to all the plants. The big window staring out at a ship. A ship. A SPACE SHIP? Another spaceship?! Did my signals finally reach someone?

I run to the control room as fast as my tentacles will take me.

“Mother Ship, one passenger on board. Do you read, rescue ship? Do you read? Hello?...”

The next thing I know, the guest entrance opens up. In comes a fighter jet with a bright orange emblem on either side. I know I’ve seen it before, but I can’t recall where. It flies inward, its blue burning flames slowly fading out as the engine stops inside my mothership. I stand there, worried, scared, hopeful, and impatient.

The hydraulic suspensions make a gushing sound as the door opens outward, hitting an ill-maintained air vent. That’s when the pipe breaks open, releasing a lot of gas. I step back, covering my mouth, and out of the fog, they appear. Three tall figures with a strut and a march. They’re walking right toward me. Of course, I’m alone on this ship, and they’re not crabs. I can see them clearly now—green, with horn-like ears on the tops of their heads. Luscious black hair, almost as if it’s been recently blow-dried, big white eyes, and slender, tall necks. I know their species—they’re the Frohkes. Two of them are men, walking behind their leader, with huge transparent bags on their backs. The pipes from those bags lead right into their necks, with masks on their faces. Multiple bruises on their necks suggest they change these pipes regularly. Their leader stands in front, a lady with a long stun ray in her hand and a set of handcuffs aimed at me. I stare at her—the command in her posture, the composure. She’s terrifying. Seriously, when an extraterrestrial enters your ship, approaches you emerging from a fog with two henchmen, weapons, and cuffs, and somehow has a chilling background music that only you can hear, it’s terrifying.

She walks up to me, grabs my wrist with the handcuffs, and says, “Are you from Halmm?”

“Yes,” I manage to reply.

“Well, you do look like one, with the tentacles and all. But there’s something different about you.”

“What?”

“Take her in. Let’s take her... home.”

That sends chills down my spine. I thought they were my rescuers; it turns out they’re my captors. But the silver lining is that I’m going back to my home... or theirs.

The journey from the mothership to their destination is ominous. I’m in a dark cell, and I can hear the Frohkes talking among themselves. They’re saying something about reporting me to the federation and having me arrested with the “rest.” Their leader, supposedly called Anta178, listens to the two men squabble about what to do with me when she suddenly loses her cool and stands.

“It’s not up to you two buffoons to decide what’s to be done with the Halmman.”

“Yes, Anta178.”

“Besides, she’s an asset to us. We need her on our side, at least until we can calm down the rebels.”

“But Anta178, she’s one of them.”

“Goer33, honey, I asked you to SHUT UP.”

One of them? One of whom?

“Excuse me, one of whom?” I ask, regretting it immediately.

Anta178 walks over and stuns me with her gun, rendering me unconscious. The rest of the trip is a blank.

I’m being dragged onto a helipad, heading toward a tall brown building, held by the henchmen as Anta178 walks ahead, with everyone around bowing down to her. The building looks an awful lot like the Parliament General from Halmm, except it’s less bright and duller. We walk through large hallways until we enter the Room of Final Judgement. I’m not sure, but most of the emblems on the pillars, which are still partially standing, have Halmman scriptures inscribed on them. I hardly have the strength to lift my head higher to read or even to differentiate between reality and hallucinations.

“Is this the Halmman you found, Anta178?” a voice booms.

“Yes, Great Wan1, she was a scientist on the Mothership Halmm sent two years ago.”

“I assumed we had all its residents... maybe not, after all.”

I suddenly remember where I’ve seen their emblem before. The day our ship was attacked—not by an asteroid but by a space station carrier—I saw the emblem in the video footage. It was them. It wasn’t an accident; it was an attack. To capture us. That’s why I know this place. It’s my home. I’m not hallucinating. They’re taking me home, to mine and theirs.

“It was you, you attacked us... Where are my crewmates?” I demand.

Goer33 and Kar31 pull me by the handcuffs. My family? My friends? Are they all in the captivity of these Frohkes?

“Great Wan1, I have a suggestion as to what can be done with her.”

With that, I’m taken to a holding room. It has just one window through which I can see the Capital City. It’s nothing like I left it. It’s lost all its color; all the tall glass towers are shattered. There wasn’t much natural light in Halmm to begin with because Dahln is a small star, giving us only a dim yellow glow. After the invasion, the scene has gotten even darker. We never had suburbs around the Capital City, but now they do. And it’s not even houses—it’s just pitched camps. Natives seem to be living in these settlements. The houses in the city have territorial flags outside, and so do the tents. All the tents still have the old flag of Halmm pitched outside. The bright green with red flowers—that’s our flag. A few houses in the city have them too. I guess they captured us, and now we’re divided. I want to snap out of this nightmare—the one I’ve been living for the past two years, but mostly the one that started this morning. This can never be my home again. Nor can what’s left of it.