“Welcome, Human,” said Thraxos in the most formal voice he could manage.

The Human—a dark-skinned male of around twenty Terran years—looked bewildered, but only for a moment. “Ah. Hello. I suppose I should have expected this.”

Not the response that Thraxos had anticipated. Most humans reacted with a mixture of shock, terror, and confusion upon meeting another intelligent species. But this human, after only a few seconds of having regained consciousness, already seemed right at home. “Expected what?” Thraxos asked instinctively.

The Human gestured at the inside the spaceship in which he now found himself. “An abduction.”

Thraxos scoffed in the Martian fashion, but of course his social cues were lost on the Human, so he had to voice his indignation. “Hardly an abduction. You asked to come here, if you’ll recall.”

“Yes, but I was rather hoping that you’d meet me on my planet, on my terms—after all, it is my planet that we’ve come here to discuss. Instead, you appear to have kidnapped me, sedated me, and wiped my memory, so that I can’t be sure of where I am, how I got here, or how long it’s been since I left.”

“Here” was a rather luxurious Martian sitting room. Near the center of the room were two chairs made out of pure xepoflerrothene—the most comfortable substance on Mars—upon which Thraxos and the Human were seated. Between them was a table with a built-in holographic display. To Thraxos’ left—the Human’s right—was a large window, providing a rather scenic view of the planet Terra from around three hundred human miles away.

The Human continued, “I understand that Terran-Martian relations are a bit tense right now, but surely even you must agree that my treatment thus far has been a little… rude.” 

If Thraxos had had teeth, he would have surely been gritting them now. This human certainly had confidence, if nothing else. “You make it sound as if you are a guest,” he said after a moment.

The Human cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t I? I successfully averted a diplomatic disaster of literally worldly proportions, after all. I’ve also made friends with quite a few Martians, most of whom I’m sure will vouch for me. And anyway, if I were a prisoner, I doubt that you would have gone through the trouble of providing all of this.” Once again he gestured, this time toward the table, which contained an assortment of Martian delicacies, including a freezing-hot, triple-brewed cup of Valderplaxtan Tea, which was possibly the most expensive thing in the room.

Without hesitating, the Human picked up the cup and took a sip. If the taste bothered him at all, it didn’t show on his face. “Thank you for preparing this food, by the way. I can’t be sure, but I think that I was quite hungry before I got abducted.” And he began digging in, without even waiting to be told that he could eat.

Thraxos was fuming. This was the representative for the human race? Thraxos didn’t claim to be an expert on human social etiquette, but by the standards of any species, the Human could only be called a jackass—a word which, on Mars, actually had seventeen different translations, each varying slightly in meaning and connotation. Thraxos thought that all of them would be fitting in this instance.

“Who are you, exactly?” Thraxos said a little more aggressively than he meant to.

The Human took another sip of the tea. “Mmm. Under the circumstances, don’t you think it would be more judicious to introduce yourself first? As a token of apology?”

Thraxos was flabbergasted. “Apology? For what?”

Without skipping a beat, the Human said, “For bringing me aboard your ship with no warning, no explanation, and not so much as a by-your-leave, for tampering with my memories and who-knows-what other parts of me, and most of all—” there was a slight shift in the Human’s expression then; Thraxos couldn’t be sure, but he thought that the Human was taking this conversation seriously for the first time since regaining consciousness. “—most of all, for threatening the planet that I call home.”

He paused to take another sip of tea.

“So yes, I’d appreciate an apology, or at the very least a justification. But for now, we can start with your name.”

Thraxos almost signaled to the guards waiting outside the room to apprehend the Human and put him back into stasis. But at the last moment, he stopped himself. He mustn’t let himself get flustered. The situation was still well in hand. After all, in spite of what the Human had said, he was still very much a captive, and one in a completely unfamiliar environment. More likely than not, he was absolutely terrified, and was only using sharp words to keep Thraxos from noticing his fear.

But he did notice, and so he realized that there was, in fact, nothing to be angry about. The human had a big mouth, but that was his only weapon, so Thraxos supposed that he could play along with his games, at least for a little while.

“Very well,” he said, “I will introduce myself. My name is Thraxos al-Kazzrenen. I am the 3031st Mothrar Pul-Viztenxa of Mars.”

“An impressive title. I wish I knew what it meant.”

It was with great effort that Thraxos kept from rolling all four of his large blue eyes. “In your tongue, it can be most directly translated as ‘King of Science’.” Of course, on Mars, “science” wasn’t just an occupation, nor a field of study; rather, it was the guiding moral and social framework by which all Martians abided. In fact, while “science” was technically correct, one could argue that “King of the World” or “King of the Future” were more accurate translations. But given the series of events that had led to this moment, Thraxos rather doubted that humans could understand the nuance, so he pressed on: “On our planet, it is one of the most sacred and honored positions. As such, it is my responsibility to speak on behalf of all Martians, everywhere.”

The Human nodded. “A very impressive title.”

He would never admit it outwardly, but Thraxos was sure that after learning who—and more importantly, what—he was, the Human would be rethinking his approach. It was for this reason that Thraxos felt comfortable asking, “Are there any other questions you’d like to ask?”

A little to Thraxos’ surprise, there were, and not a mere few, either. The Human grilled him on just about every aspect of contemporary Martian society, from politics to cuisine, and somehow or other, Thraxos found himself answering most of his inquiries.

Abruptly, in the middle of an admittedly-engrossing discussion about Martian military strategy, Thraxos realized what he was saying and snapped, “Alright, that’s enough! I’ve answered each and every one of your questions, and you’ve answered none of mine! But now you will. Who are you to the rest of your species? What is your aim here? And why should I, the esteemed Martian King of Science, listen to anything you have to say?”

“Ah,” the Human said, and  set down the teacup. His tone and general body language had changed, but Thraxos couldn’t have said what it had changed to, or what it meant. “That’s a difficult one.”

“I want an answer. I don’t care how “difficult” it is.”

“Yes, well, the problem is that it would be less of an answer, and more of… a story. And a rather long one, at that.”

“Regale me,” Thraxos said, partially because he was curious to see just what sort of conditions could possibly produce such an ill-mannered, contemptuous organism, and partially because he was rather tired of talking. “After all—in case you hadn’t noticed, Human—we aren’t going anywhere any time soon.” Thraxos extended a tentacle toward the window.

The Human looked out the window, as if for the first time. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” He stared down at his home planet for a while, not saying anything.

“Well?” Thraxos pressed. He was now truly annoyed. This had better be one good story, he thought.

Finally the Human turned back to him and nodded. “If you insist, your majesty. It all started three years ago, when I was—”

“Hold on!” the Thraxos interjected. “You haven’t even told me your name yet!”

“Oh. I suppose not,” the Human said, and Thraxos could almost believe that it had been an honest mistake. Almost. “Allow me to start over, then. My name is…”

And so the Human began his story.