The Space Siren's Song

Atlas's first commerce mission is interrupted by an odd signal that seems to control the minds of his fellow crewmates. Could this be the work of the mythical space siren?

Atlas expected his first mission to go smoothly. After all, he had no reason to think otherwise. 

The objective was simple enough: transport a shipment of transmitter parts to a newly formed colony on the planet Salacia. Atlas’s shuttle was already decked out with the necessary gear for the water landing they’d need to make on Salacia’s ocean surface. He’d had his pick of crew mates---Tripp, Saylor, London, West, and Christopher. He trusted them all with his life.

He knew the procedures for emergency landings by heart, had memorized the manual for his ship, and had practiced in the flight simulator for hundreds of hours. 

Yet when the distress signal interrupted his communications with the Academy, he had no idea what to do. 

Atlas glanced at his crew members, trying to keep his face a mask of indifference despite the panic flooding his veins.

Tripp, on the other hand, did not seem to care about hiding his fear. “What do we do, Captain?”

A good question. Atlas wished he could provide an answer, but in all of the Academy’s lectures on emergency procedures, no one had so much as mentioned distress signals cutting off all other communication options.

He tried to think, but the incessant stream of morse code spelling help made it hard to focus. The best course of action would probably be to notify the Academy so a more experienced team could take care of the issue. Which meant navigating the ship out of range of the distress signal.

“Saylor,” Atlas called. His navigator snapped to attention. “Where's the nearest Academy port?”

“About an hour in the direction we’re heading,” Saylor answered with a frown. “Well, maybe. With communications interrupted, the maps are offline and I have no idea if we’re still pointed the right way.”

Atlas cursed under his breath. They could be heading further into deep space and the ship was only stocked with enough supplies to last the trip to Salacia. 

“The distress signal is coming from the Belt,” Tripp noted, his face paling considerably. “Do you think it’s from Sirenae?”

Atlas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “The Singing Enchantress is just a myth, Tripp.” 

“Is she, though?” Tripp countered, tugging superstitiously at the headset he always wore around his neck. Supposedly, it emitted an undetectable signal that counteracted any trance a space siren might place a man under.

“Regardless of where the signal is coming from, we have to help whoever is sending it,” London remarked. 

“And what if we can’t help?” West asked. “What if we end up making this worse or putting ourselves in danger?”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Atlas agreed. “We’ll land on Salacia and I’ll notify the Academy--”

“No!”

Atlas spun around in his seat at the unexpected voice. At the doorway to the bridge stood a girl with bronze skin and long, dark hair. Her cheeks flushed with color, her lips pressed together in a stubborn line.

“Journee,” Atlas said. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Journee crossed her arms. “You’re going after the distress signal, Atlas.”

“Does your father know you’re here?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Atlas sighed. “I’d prefer not to get kicked out of the Academy for allowing the headmaster’s daughter to stowaway on my ship.”

Journee pretended to pout. Atlas knew she meant no harm---she was simply looking for adventure, but… Her father was a dangerous man to have as an enemy, especially considering his endorsement would practically decide Atlas’s life for him. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Tripp interjected, “but if we’re answering the distress signal, we should probably do it soon.”

Atlas fell back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he said at last. “Saylor, can you locate which direction the signal is coming from?”

Saylor nodded and Atlas ordered a change of course. His heart thudded in his chest, and he got the feeling that he was making a mistake, but what else could he do? Leave whoever was sending out the signal to suffer whatever fate the universe had outlined for them. 

The dread only deepened as the ship shifted course and Atlas sank back into his chair. He could hear Journee and Tripp conversing in low tones, probably arguing about the Singing Enchantress. 

The Singing Enchantress. Atlas scoffed. Space sirens were a legend from imaginative explorers who’d sailed the stars centuries ago. And a whole planet devoted solely to their species? The very notion was ridiculous. This distress signal was probably just some kids messing around on their parents’ ships. 

Without warning, the ship rocked, nearly spilling Atlas onto the floor.

He scrambled to his feet, glancing over at Christopher, his pilot. Christopher was experienced, being the oldest member of the crew at twenty. Atlas was the youngest, with Tripp a few months older---Atlas being seventeen, Tripp, eighteen. 

So why was Christopher struggling to fly?

“What’s going on?” shouted Tripp, who’d pulled his headset over his ears. His eyes were wide with fear. 

Atlas was about to yell back that he didn’t know, but then he noticed Christopher’s stiff limbs. His eyes were fixed straight ahead; his movements fitful. He seemed to be muttering inaudible words under his breath. 

Atlas’s pulse doubled. What in the twin suns--

A quick glance around the bridge only made matters worse. London, Saylor, and West seemed to be in a similar trance, with only Tripp, Journee, and Atlas unaffected. A trance. Could it really be space sirens?

“Atlas, do something!” Journee cried.

“We’re approaching the Belt!” Tripp screeched. “Oh, nuts and bolts, we’re headed straight for Sirenae, aren’t we? We’re all gonna die!”

“Shut him up,” Atlas ordered Journee. He turned to Christopher and shook the older boy gently. Christopher’s head turned, but it was mechanical and inhuman. Atlas shook off his fear. “Hey, Chris, I think I’ve changed my mind. Let’s change course and head back to Salacia--”

“No.” Christopher’s voice wasn’t his own, like it was layered with a soft purr. Atlas shuddered. 

“Well, I’m the captain, so…”

“I’m landing this ship on Sirenae,” Christopher argued, confirming Atlas’s suspicions. “If you try to stop me, London will throw himself off the ship.”

Atlas gave a nervous laugh. “London wouldn’t--”

London stood abruptly, expression emotionless. He began to turn towards the doorway, heading for the airlock, if Atlas had to guess.

Journee screamed and launched herself at London, tackling him to the ground.

Atlas grimaced. He, Tripp, and Journee would be unable to subdue all of his crew mates, which meant that they’d have to knock at least one of them out. London, Saylor, West, and Christopher were obviously willing to fight back and Atlas couldn’t have any injured crew members if they were going to make it to Salacia. 

He had to allow Christopher to land the ship on Sirenae.

Atlas made his way over to Tripp, whose face was almost as red as his hair. His legs bounced with nervous energy. 

“Is everything okay?” Tripp asked, a little louder than necessary. 

Atlas explained the situation with as many hand gestures as possible. He couldn’t risk Tripp misunderstanding due to his headset. 

After a fearful I told you so, Tripp seemed to calm down a little bit. He focused on the task Atlas had given him---collecting supplies for the landing. Atlas then repeated himself to Journee, who had perched on the back of a wriggling London. She seemed pleased to have a purpose, and as much as it pained Atlas to admit it, he was glad she’d snuck along.

His stomach churned as Christopher carefully entered Sirenae’s atmosphere and landed the ship in the center of a clearing. 

Atlas’s entranced crew mates began to march for the airlock, but Tripp blocked their path. 

“Move aside,” London, Saylor, West, and Christopher chorused. The sound was eerie. 

“No one leaves this ship without a suit,” Atlas said, trying to keep his voice level so as to not betray his fear. “I don’t care if you’re under some spell or not, you’re not dying from poisoned air.”

The boys shared a look and seemed to decide that arguing wasn’t worth it. Atlas glanced at Tripp and Journee, who both gave him a thumbs-up before climbing into their suits. Luckily, all ships came with three extra suits in case any were ripped, so Journee was able to join them on the surface of this unfamiliar planet. 

Pulling the suit over his merchant’s uniform, Atlas felt like he was coming home. The boots were molded perfectly to his feet, and the silvery material was lightweight, even though it was insulated enough to protect him from all sorts of weather conditions. He fixed the mask over his nose and mouth, and then pulled the bulb-like helmet over his head. The Academy had no reports on Sirenae, so he didn’t know if the air would be corrosive or poisonous. 

Once everyone’s suits were on securely, Atlas opened the airlock door. 

Immediately, he was struck by how dark the planet was. It reminded him of twilight on his home planet, Proserpine. Surprisingly enough, they were surrounded by trees. The only plants seemed to be submerged in about three inches of water---at least, Atlas assumed it was water. It made sense that space sirens would need water to live. A soft humming sound filled the air, though it was soon interrupted by the sloshing of boots through the pooled water. London, Saylor, West, and Christopher trudged ahead, obviously set on some distant destination.

Atlas shared a look with Journee and Tripp. 

“Should we follow them?” Tripp asked, his voice muffled by the helmet. He still had the headset over his ears. 

Atlas thought for a moment. He had to assume there was some sort of alien life form on this planet. Based on the trance his crew mates were under---and the stories he’d heard---he guessed that the sirens were hostile. There was no telling what they might do if they knew Tripp, Journee, and Atlas were immune to their song.

“Pretend to be in the trance,” he whispered to Journee, and then mimed what he wanted Tripp to do. 

They followed behind the other crew members. Atlas’s breathing seemed too loud in his ears. There were no birds singing or bugs chirping---only the soft buzzing and the splashing of the boots in the water. He tried to mimic the blank stares of his crew mates, but his mind wouldn’t let him focus.

You’re probably the first people to visit Sirenae in hundreds of years, his brain said.

Yeah, and we’re gonna be the first people to die here too, if you don’t focus, he told himself. 

These trees are probably semi-aquatic species adapted to living in conditions such as these. Perhaps they have interesting attributes that could make them useful resources in trade. Imagine a trading port here! It would probably be named after you. Atlas Trading Port--

“Shut up,” he hissed under his breath, ignoring the strange looking Journee gave him. 

Something stirred in the foliage nearby. The other boys stopped walking and Atlas froze, wincing at the delayed reaction. 

Then the sirens emerged.

Atlas sucked in a sharp breath, trying to keep his emotions under control and his breathing calm. 

They were vaguely humanoid, roughly five feet tall. Their skin came in various shades of green, blue, and white. Silver and purple markings lined their skin, and dark hair fell down their backs in untamed waves. They had large eyes, consumed entirely by pupils, and they had slits for noses. Their mouths were thin and lipless. Atlas wondered where their song came from if their mouths were shut. They appeared to have normal fingers and toes, though they walked barefoot. Additionally, the sirens seemed to be garbed in simple dresses made of leaves and some odd looking cloth. Each one held a long spear with sharpened, sparkly rocks at the end. 

One of them wore a circlet of pearls. She paced around Atlas and his crew, her gaze seemingly roaming over each of them, one at a time. Atlas felt as though he was being inspected like cattle. He pushed the thought away and forced his fists to unclench.

When the siren spoke, her voice wormed its way into Atlas’s mind. He didn’t understand her language and her words were not directed at him, but they washed over him. He felt like he was being lifted off his toes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught London, Saylor, West, and Christopher break into identical smiles. The creepiness sobered him, snapping him back to reality.

What in the twin suns was that? If this singular siren had that kind of power over him, Atlas could hardly imagine what the Singing Enchantress would be able to do to him. 

He had a guess as to why he wasn’t under the trance---he was only seventeen. Not quite a man, and not old enough to be completely controlled by the siren’s spell. Which, of course, meant Tripp would be at their mercy should his headset fail. As for Journee, she was female and seventeen. Atlas and Journee would be safe from the trances, but did the sirens know that? And the sirens obviously still had a little bit of influence over Atlas, as their song had nearly taken him. They could probably persuade him into doing something he’d regret later.

The siren with the circlet shifted her song again and beckoned for the crew to follow her. Atlas reluctantly stepped into line. 

He struggled to keep calm as the siren led them through the forest. Tripp was ahead of him, paler than Atlas had ever seen him. He couldn’t tell how Journee was faring, but he knew her father would be furious when he found out Atlas hadn’t brought her straight back to the Academy. There would probably be a warrant--

A warrant! With Journee missing, the headmaster would be scouring the solar system to find her. He’d search the ship departure records and discover Atlas’s mission, as well as his disappearance. If they were lucky, they’d only have to survive for a few days on this harrowing planet before the Academy would find them. But any Academy ships and pilots would probably be ensnared by the siren’s song. Atlas needed to find a way to contact the Academy, and he needed to do it soon. 

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he nearly ran into the back of Tripp. Thankfully, the sirens were too busy opening some sort of mechanical door to notice Atlas’s mistake. 

They’d arrived at a structure that reminded Atlas of a temple though he’d never seen one in person. The Academy had extensive lectures on history and Earth and religion, so Atlas had a vague idea of what to expect from the structure in front of him. Temples were usually devoted to some figure of authority, which could only mean one thing: this was the home of the Singing Enchantress.

Atlas followed his crew members into the temple, his unease mixing with curiosity as he stepped into the main chamber.

The walls and arched ceiling seemed to be made of odd stone, coated with bluish moss. Water dripped from the ceiling, forming small puddles on the floor. Vines also hung from the ceiling, dotted with small, glowing fruits that provided dim lighting. At the back of the chamber stood a throne made of gray wood, padded with the same glowing moss that covered the walls. On the throne lounged a figure who could only be the Singing Enchantress.

Atlas forgot how to breathe for a moment. His suit panicked and his air filter kicked into overdrive, thinking he was in danger of dying. 

The Singing Enchantress…well…Atlas couldn’t really describe her. Every time he thought his eyes focused enough to describe her, she seemed to shift appearances again. It was like trying to stare at one of the twin suns---it gave him a headache. She was nothing more than a colorful blur. A colorful blur that could sing.

When the Singing Enchantress spoke, Atlas didn’t even hear words. He sensed the meaning, felt the Enchantress’s emotions pouring through him. 

She wasn’t speaking directly to Atlas, which was probably what spared him from falling to his knees. Her orders were intended for the other sirens, who took several steps back, leaving Atlas and his crew at the mercy of the Enchantress. 

And then she spoke. 

She had a lilting accent unlike anything Atlas had ever heard before, yet she spoke in the language of trade---a language similar to English, only spoken by inhabitants of the planets under the protection of the Academy. “Welcome to Sirenae, friends.”

Atlas didn’t move, didn’t dare to breathe. His attention caught on the skeletons piled behind the Enchantress’s throne, the bones picked clean. A tattered Academy uniform lay in shreds on the ground. Scrawled in blood on the wall above was the word remember. 

The Singing Enchantress grinned wickedly, or at least, Atlas assumed she did. He could sense her amusement as though it were his own. 

“Don’t worry, friends. I won’t let you come to the same fate that the other silly humans did,” she said. Atlas wanted so badly to believe her that his stomach hurt. With her attention now focused on him, he struggled to think clearly. 

The pressure of her gaze was unbearable. His heart thudded in his chest louder than the engine of a ship taking off and his muscles spasmed, unable to handle his weight any longer.

His knees collapsed underneath him and Atlas dropped to the ground, breathing heavily. A million curses ran through his mind but he bit his tongue to keep from crying out. The Singing Enchantress knows, he realized. She knows I am not under her spell.

“Silly humans.” The Enchantress’s laugh reminded Atlas of the Academy bells. “You think me so easily fooled, and yet you forget that I have lived for centuries. I have watched civilizations rise and fall from a distance. I know humankind better than they know themselves, and still you try to deceive me.”

The first rule of trade was diplomacy. It had been drilled into Atlas’s head from the first day at the Academy that the easiest way out of a situation was conversation. He’d aced classes on languages, on manners and proper greetings, and yet now his voice failed him. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to breathe, let alone speak. 

“What are you doing to him?” cried Journee. 

Some of the pressure lifted from Atlas’s chest. He sucked in a grateful breath, scrambling to his shaky feet. 

“She’s just toying with us,” Atlas rasped, hating how his voice scraped against the sides of his throat. “She knew all along that she didn’t have all of us under her spell.”

“You’re not the first humans immune to my song,” the Enchantress agreed. “I know why he is safe---though your ear coverings have definitely improved over the past few years.” The Enchantress gestured lazily towards Tripp.

“It doesn’t matter why we’re immune,” Atlas said. “It just matters that we are. We mean you no harm, Enchantress. My ship just picked up a distress signal and we came to investigate, so I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding--”

“I sent out the signal,” the Enchantress interrupted. She sounded bored. “There was no misunderstanding.”

Oh. That complicated matters. 

“So I guess you wouldn’t be persuaded to just, I don’t know, let us be on our merry way,” Atlas said.

“You would be correct in that assumption,” the Enchantress confirmed. 

“That’s not fair,” Journee argued before Atlas could stop her. “You can’t just keep us here forever--”

“Not forever,” the Enchantress said, obviously not bothered by Journee’s outburst. “Think of yourself as…” she paused, as though struggling to come up with the right word. “Bait,” she finally decided. “I have no use for puny humans such as yourselves.”

Under normal circumstances, Atlas would’ve been offended to be called puny. Now he was glad that the classification had spared him from the Enchantress’s song. 

“What exactly do you need humans for, anyway?” Journee pressed, her voice dripping with disgust. 

The Enchantress’s form shifted and Atlas pictured her tilting her head to the side. “You humans have a way of poisoning the world around you. Not too long ago, a group of men in a box very similar to yours landed on my planet. I treated them to nothing but hospitality, and they repaid me by destroying my home. The world is still healing, but I fear it will be forever scarred.”

Atlas recalled the recent stories of missing explorers. Most of the solar system had been explored when humanity first discovered it however many years ago, but there had been a recent second wave of explorers. A few ships had gone missing, their crews presumed dead. One of them must have landed on Sirenae, Atlas realized. And the crew must have tried to harvest some of Sirenae’s plentiful resources. 

“I kept these humans as my pets,” the Enchantress explained. “They taught me your language and how to use their little machines.”

“You forced them to, didn’t you?” Journee asked. “You used your song.”

“What you humans fail to understand is that there will always be someone more powerful than you. As a species, you strive to be the best. To conquer. You pretend that you have achieved ultimate superiority when in reality you rank at the bottom of the list. The men before you needed to be taught their place in the world. My people were more than willing to demonstrate this.”

Atlas couldn’t tell whether he was disgusted or ashamed. While the Singing Enchantress was outright criticizing humanity, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Humans took and took and took and never stopped to consider anyone but themselves. 

He needed time to think and to gather his thoughts and formulate a plan. The Singing Enchantress needed to be persuaded into letting them go, which meant convincing her that they weren’t her enemies. 

Journee didn’t seem to grasp that concept. She stepped forward, her hands on her hips. “We may be selfish,” she said, voice somehow strong and confident. Atlas admired her boldness. “But we’re not the ones kidnapping another species.”

“I will let the three of you that cannot be affected by my song go,” the Singing Enchantress said. “However, I expect three hundred men to make up for your absence. I’ve already given the order to send out a signal to your people. They will be notified of the situation.”

“And what will you do with the men?” Atlas asked, stepping in before Journee could escalate the tensions any further. 

The Enchantress shrugged. “They will work for me until they die, and then I will consider vengeance served. I will leave your species to your pathetic lives. Until then, I think you’ll find yourselves quite comfortable in my prison cells.”

“You can’t take us as hostages!” Atlas cried in outrage.

The sirens had advanced, however, and Atlas dropped to his knees as they looped a cold rope around his wrists. Journee fought back wildly, thrashing and yelping. Tripp, on the other hand, was practically in tears. The rest of Atlas’s crew stood motionless, unaffected by the commotion surrounding them. 

“You’re lucky I’ve yet to figure out how to remove those fancy bubbles around your heads,” the Enchantress called as the sirens began to escort Atlas, Tripp, and Journee away. “Otherwise, your little friend with the fancy ear coverings would be mine.”

Tripp screamed and began to struggle against his captors.

The Singing Enchantress heaved a tired sigh and then waved her hand. “Actually, ladies, you’re needed elsewhere. After all, we have these new friends to watch over our prisoners.”

No. 

All of the plans Atlas had been developing had relied on attacking his siren captors. If his friends were his guards, though, he couldn’t allow them to come to harm.

London and Saylor grabbed Tripp while West gripped Atlas’s shoulders, leaving Christopher to guide Journee. They didn’t seem to need any sirens keeping them in check with song anymore. 

Atlas, Tripp, and Journee were led to a corridor in the back corner of the chamber. It was surprisingly short, and at the end was a room about ten feet by ten feet and bordered on three walls by stone. London pulled open the cell door and Atlas, Tripp, and Journee were tossed unceremoniously inside. 

Atlas was on his feet a moment later, throwing himself at the bars to no avail. His crew mates paid him no mind.

He didn’t know whether to scream or cry at the futility of it all. 

Atlas had been preparing practically his entire life for trade missions similar to this one, and yet he’d failed to even land on the right planet. He couldn’t fathom what his parents would have to say about his failure. He’d spent hours upon hours poring over textbooks on flight and diplomacy and trade. He’d worked as an apprentice under his parents since he was old enough to walk. Then, at the first sign of danger, he’d let his crew down. 

He slumped to the floor, burying his head in his hands. All of his work and nothing to show for it. 

“Hey.” It was Journee, who’d plopped down beside him. “Are you okay?”

Atlas scoffed. “Well, I mean, I’ve led my crew straight into the heart of danger, allowed myself to be captured and possibly used as a hostage, and failed my first---and probably only---mission. So, all things considered, I’m faring pretty well.”

Journee fell silent. 

“You’ll get us out of this, Atlas,” Tripp said from the opposite side of the cell. He gave a weak smile. “I believe in you.”

Atlas snorted. “I’m glad someone does.”

“Seriously, Atlas,” Journee butted in. “If anyone can get us out of this alive, it’s you.”

“And yet here we are,” he said bitterly. “The sirens have weapons, knowledge of the land, and their song. All we have are our suits and--”

His gaze stopped on Tripp’s headset. 

A headset that broadcasted a frequency strong enough to counteract the siren’s spell. 

“Tripp,” Atlas whispered. “Do you trust me?”

Tripp paled. “Atlas…”

“It’s the only way,” Atlas said. “Please, Tripp. You know I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t think it was necessary. Do you trust me?”

“Of course, captain,” Tripp answered, voice cracking on the word captain. 

Without another word, Tripp released his suit’s helmet and removed the headset from his ears. Atlas scrambled to his feet, lunging to catch the headset before it could hit the ground. Journee rushed to fix Tripp’s helmet back over his head, but the boy’s eyes had already glazed over. He stood limply as though awaiting orders.

Luckily, the Singing Enchantress had left only the other boys to guard Atlas, Journee, and Tripp. The so-called “prison guards” completely ignored the ruckus Atlas and Journee were causing. Maybe they couldn’t hear the noise over the siren song, or maybe they wanted to escape just as much as Atlas did. Whatever the reason, Atlas was grateful for their obliviousness.

Atlas and Journee knelt over the headset. Once again, Atlas found himself thankful for Journee’s company. She’d studied engineering far more in depth than he had. Atlas explained his idea quickly and quietly, in case any of his other crew members decided to report Atlas’s actions to the Enchantress. Journee seemed to know exactly what she was doing and the headset was altered within an hour. 

“Once I set off the headset, I need you to get the boys and lead them back to the ship,” Atlas explained. 

Journee frowned. “You’re not coming with us?”

Atlas hesitated, and then shook his head. Journee opened her mouth to argue, but Atlas cut her off. “Wait on the ship---and find something to cover the boys’ ears. I don’t know how long the headset transmitter will last. If I’m not back in half an hour, leave without me.”

“What are you planning, Atlas?” Journee asked, and she seemed genuinely worried. 

“The Singing Enchantress won’t stop entrancing men unless someone forces her to,” Atlas said. “Trust me, I’m not trying to be noble. I only intend to bargain with her.”

“Bargain?” Journee shook her head. “Atlas, you have nothing to bargain with.”

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and didn’t respond. Journee would never allow Atlas to follow through with his plan if she knew what he planned to do.

“Take care of my ship for me,” he murmured, and then pressed a button on the headset.

A shrill wail pierced the air and Atlas thought his eardrums were going to burst. Tears leaked from his eyes and he bit his lip to keep from screaming. 

Then came the silence, deafening in its own way.

Just as Atlas had intended, the headset had emitted a frequency horrible enough to temporarily deafen him and his crew members. They would be immune from the siren song long enough to escape. Hopefully. 

He crawled to his knees, wincing at the throbbing pain in his head.

The world seemed to spin around him. Atlas thought he might vomit from the dizziness but he managed to keep conscious.

He squirmed forward on all fours, reaching through the bars and fumbling for the keys that had fallen from London’s hand. By some miracle, he unlocked the cell door and stumbled into the corridor. 

Journee was right behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Atlas brushed her off, giving her a stern look. Keep my crew safe, he pleaded internally. Save them.

Journee nodded reluctantly and turned towards the other boys. All five of them lay on the ground, writhing in pain with their hands over their ears. Atlas had no idea what the siren song had done to their brains, but he hoped they would recover swiftly. 

Atlas bolted down the corridor as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him. The world tilted and tossed beneath his feet but he kept his balance and emerged in the main chamber of the temple only to find it was empty. Had the sirens heard the headset go off, or had they left before that? Did they know their prisoners were escaping? Hopefully it was the former. 

Even though Atlas was deaf, he hoped that the sirens weren’t. He had banked on the fact that they would be familiar enough with this planet to find him. For his friends to escape, he needed to draw the sirens away from the temple.

Atlas ran out of the temple, shouting (or at least, he thought he was shouting but he couldn’t be sure) at the top of his lungs.

He tripped over the uneven ground and nearly face planted into the ankle high water. The trees seemed to shift uneasily around him but he kept moving forward with no destination in mind. Keep running. Keep running. Keep running. You can’t stop. Not for anything. Don’t stop running.

With his deafened ears, Atlas had no way of knowing when the sirens would begin pursuit. He didn’t realize that they’d caught up with him until something slammed into his back, throwing him to the ground.

It knocked the wind of him and Atlas lay in the shallow water, stunned. His mind screamed at him to get up, but he ignored the urge.

Strong arms grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him into a kneeling position, wrenching his hands behind his back. He kept his expression blank, unwilling to show the Enchantress his fear.

The first rule of bargaining was to hide one’s emotions. If you showed all your cards in the first play of the game, you’d have no leverage---nothing to gain. Atlas needed to make the Enchantress think he was settling for her terms while simultaneously manipulating their bargain to suit his wants. 

To bargain, he needed a way to communicate without speaking. Or without hearing, at the very least. 

He yanked his arms free and pointed to his ears. 

The Singing Enchantress stepped in front of him, curiosity evident in the way she held herself. 

“Heal my ears,” Atlas ordered, hoping his words weren’t slurred beyond recognition. 

At first, he thought the siren had blatantly ignored his request. Or maybe she hadn’t understand what he wanted in the first place.

But then his ears started ringing and soon he could hear the faint buzz of the siren song.

“Speak, human,” the Singing Enchantress demanded. “And maybe I will let you live.”

“I mean you no harm,” Atlas said, glad to find his voice still working. He’d thought for sure that the Singing Enchantress’s presence would suffocate him, just as it had at the temple. 

“And yet you’ve freed your friends. Tell me, are they running to find help? Is this just some clever ploy to distract me while your team searches for back-up? Because if so, I will gladly kill you now and get all of this over with--”

“No!” Atlas shouted, cursing himself for the outburst. “No. I…I want to bargain with you, Enchantress.”

The Enchantress seemed genuinely intrigued. “Oh? And tell me, human, what you have to offer me.”

“My word,” Atlas said. “My word that I will not let any harm come to your planet ever again. I promise, Enchantress, that if you let me go, I will ensure that your planet---and every other planet in this solar system---is protected from exploitation by my people.”

The Enchantress scoffed. “The words of man mean nothing.”

“My word means something,” Atlas insisted. “I’ll start some conservation fund and I’ll draft laws to protect the resources of planets like yours and--”

“And your people will listen?” the Enchantress asked. “I know humans, boy, and I know that your promises are as weak as you are.”

“I will make them listen--”

The Enchantress shook her head regretfully. “I am sorry, but I must do what’s best for my people.”

“Please,” Atlas begged. “If you can’t take my word, then take me instead. Enslave me---I will do your bidding willingly if you agree not to kidnap any more men.”

“And what makes your life worth that of three hundred men?” inquired the Enchantress. 

Atlas struggled for an answer. “I’m a young captain,” he settled for. “This was my first trade mission. If you keep me as your slave, you’ll be eliminating thousands of trades to come. You’ll be sparing other planets their resources, and my crew members will alert the Academy that this planet is not to be trifled with.”

The Enchantress thought for a long while. Atlas wrung his fingers, waiting. He began to worry. What if she said no and killed him anyway? Then it won’t be your problem because you’ll be dead, he reminded himself. 

He found himself holding his breath when the Enchantress spoke again. 

“I have considered your offer,” the Enchantress said. “It takes a great deal of bravery and virtue to offer oneself up in exchange for the rest of their species. I pride myself on having a similar set of values. There is hope for humanity yet, boy. Now go, before I change my mind.”

Atlas’s mouth fell open. He’d done it! The Enchantress was letting them go.

“Thank you,” he said, rising to his feet. “A million times, thank you.”

The Enchantress’s odd glow brightened. “You would do well to remember your promise, human.”

Atlas nodded before breaking into a run. He didn’t know how much time he had left, but he needed to make it back to the ship before his crew departed without him. His feet pounded against the ground and his body pleaded for a break, but he forced himself onward.

Journee was just sealing the doors to the ship when Atlas stumbled into the clearing. 

“Atlas!” she cried, throwing her arms around him in a hug.

“We’re safe,” he said, as though the thought had just occurred to him. “By the twin suns, Journee, we just saved the Academy.”

“We did, didn’t we?” Journee beamed. 

“Are you okay?” Atlas asked. “How are the boys?” He tried to push past Journee to see his other crewmates, but she wrapped him in another hug, blocking his path.

“I’m fine,” Journee assured him. “As for the boys, they’re a little beat up---and very nauseous---but they can still help us get home.”

“No, not home,” Atlas said. “First, we head to Salacia. It’s about time we finish our first mission.”

Author's Note

I wrote this story for my sci-fi/fantasy lit class, so it was just an idea I'd been playing around with for a while. It's my first attempt at space travel (I generally don't read/write science fiction in this vein).