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“Are you going to let me go, or what?”

She’s hardly finished saying it when the bindings on her ankles loosen and slip away, brushing over her skin with a silky, light touch that brings goosebumps up on her bare arms. She bends her knees, feet flat on the table, sighing with relief.

Her stiff joints and shaky muscles protest the movement.How long did I lie here, unconscious, at his mercy?The restraints on her wrists uncoil as she pushes herself to a seated position.

Whatarethose restraints made of? They move with a sinuous grace that makes them look organic,alivefor a split second before they go limp, hanging from the table’s edges like so much rubber tubing. They werewarm…She shivers again, rubbing the goosebumps from her arms.

“Are you cold? I can make this space warmer if you like. Or perhaps—” A moment later, he’s at her side, tucking a plush covering around her shoulders. “That’s better. You were not, hm,wearingmuch when we—when I found you.”

She pulls the exquisitely soft blanket over her bare arms and legs, feeling exposed but unable to find her way back to fear. At least she has her t-shirt on. It’s some small comfort. Besides, his balls areright there. She could easily reach out and?—

Taking refuge in the strange, unrelenting calm, she swings her legs over the edge of the table, deliberately putting her back to him. Her feet dangle a few inches off the floor as she takes stock of her surroundings again now that she has a wider field of view.

Nothing here looks unfamiliar, exactly. The shapes seem right, but she can’t identify any of the materials. The floor, which has the same subtle iridescence as the equipment. It’s not metal, wood, or stone, but a dark, almost springy texture with a rippling quality, as if some current moves beneath its surface. The intricate molding of the chandelier-like lamps branches into lighted tips with a subtle, organic asymmetry. They sway gently, glowing hypnotically, in an otherwise undetectable breeze.

“I think you better tell me what is going on,” she says, with dreamlike serenity.

Her captor—or rescuer—clears his throat. “You’re not running, it seems.”

“Not yet,” she agrees. “So don’t give me a reason. Tell me where we are and how you found me. Tell mewhy.”

“These are not easy questions to answer.” His tone sounds almost apologetic, but he says nothing further.

Wearing the furry blanket like a cape, she lets her bare soles meet the smooth, unidentifiable surface of the floor. It has the slightest bit of springy give and exudes a gentle warmth.

“I don’t care how hard it is for you.” Her legs hold her, and her knees prove only a little watery as she turns to face him across the table. “You’re the one who’s left me in the dark so far.Try.”

“And if you don’t like the answers?” His throat jumps. Is henervous? Does the air not grant him the same calm it does her?

She folds her arms, brows raised, waiting. “I promise you I won’t like them less thannotknowing them.”

“Very well,” he says, and sighs. “This is not—but no matter. You asked where we are, and what I’ve done to you. The simplest explanation is that you…Weare very far away from home. We had limited resources and very little time, so I admit we took some—liberties.”

“Libertiesis one way of putting it.” She really should be panicking. Her continued fearlessness doesn’t feel like a gift anymore. Suddenly, she misses the ability to understand in her body, as well as her mind, why all of this should alarm her. No way she’ll fess up to that now, though. “That doesn’t tell me much of anything, except that you’re admitting to kidnapping me. And who’s ‘we’?”

“I didn’t kidnap you.” His brow knits, and he casts a glance toward the invisible, cavernous ceiling, as if seeking help from some unseen observer. “Not exactly. I’m here to help you. Care for you. All you must do is ask, and I can provide it.Anything.”

Even without fear, a cold determination straightens her spine, slips into her voice. “I’m asking you for answers—real ones. Starting with where on Earth,specifically,you or whoever you’re working for has taken me.”

She’s circling toward him now. He steps hastily the other way, keeping the table between them. “I can’t.”

“You don’t know either. Is that it?”

Helaughs,a little huff out of his perfect, Grecian nose. “No. Your request can’t be granted. Not the way you asked it.”

“I don’t see why that’s funny. Stop playing games with me.”

“I promise you, I’m not.” The spark of amusement drains away as he faces her, eyes wide and pleading. “I believe the most culturally appropriate phrase is…Hm.We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“I live inCalifornia,” she says. “But fine, I’ll play along. Just how far away fromKansasare we?”

“Approximately five thousand of your astronomical units.” He stands at the edge of the circle of light now, their combined path tracing an elliptical orbit from its center.

Blank, she stares at him. “I’m sorry.” Nothing about this makes sense.I liked the last dream better.“I thought you said…”

He inclines his head, his gaze oddly melancholy. “Would you prefer I provide the conversion in a different unit of distance? It is a very great number of miles, but I could?—”

If her memory served, that would mean somewhere on the inner edge of the Oort Cloud. Past the current reach of any Earth missions, even past the Voyager probes with their half-century head start.Farther than any woman has ever gone before.