|
|
Captain Samuel Wychin screamed, and tried to sit up. He couldn't, being firmly strapped to some sort of hard bench. He blinked, trying to figure out what was going on. The last thing he remembered was firing madly at the advancing mutons... and then blackness. Now, he was in a room with a blue ceiling and walls. He couldn't move any of his appendages. Realization slowly sunk in. This was an alien ship, and he was one of the abductees. He felt around in his mouth for the cyanide pill... and couldn't find it.
{Excellent... this human is the first to wake.} A voice spoke in his mind.
"What the hell?" Wychin croaked out, his mouth dry. He struggled to move... but it was no physical bond that held him.
{Still defiant, even in defeat. A curious species, you are... it is unfortunate that you cannot be allowed independence.} The voice continued.
'Why the hell not? What did we ever do to you?' Wychin thought, guessing correctly that this being speaking in his mind could also read his thoughts.
{Your species... would be a blight upon the galaxy, if it were allowed to spread beyond your star system. Humans are violent... not in the way that the Snakemen are violent... but in their own hideous way. It is not for pleasure that we do this to you. This is for the sake of the entire galaxy. You were well on the way to destroying your own world when we found you... building your nuclear weapons, strip-mining. When our scouts tried to make contact with your species, you fired on them. Our decision about your species was cemented then.}
Wychin interrupted the alien's monologue. 'So who the hell made you the galaxy's savior? What the hell do you expect us to do? Submit and offer you our service?'
{No, Captain. We expected your species not to shoot at our scouts. Now, we don't expect you to submit. We know you would never do that. Instead, we simply expect you to die. The Sectoids want you for your genetic material... while the Snakemen wish to colonize this planet. The merits of our triumvirate are obvious. Your species, on the other hand, could not unite even when threatened with extinction. Did you know, Captain, that the Russian force you joined with was part of a massive invasion intending to seize control of North America? Did you know that your own X-Com was selling weapons to Iranian terrorists, who later wound up using them against American cities?}
'So why the hell are you telling me this? It doesn't matter now... we've lost! Why don't you just get on and give me the damn anal probe?!' Wychin's facial muscles twitched as he tried to break the iron grip on his mind.
{You are correct, Captain. Any information you receive from me is irrelevant. I simply enjoy observing the human's reactions to finding out that his species is inferior. As for your anal probe... } The voice almost seemed to chuckle. {You will wish that it was just that... seeing as how you will be conscious during the operation.} The voice paused for a second, as if considering something else.
'You know, your allies aren't on perfectly friendly terms with each other... I saw 'em blowing each other away, just like we humans did to each other all the time!' Wychin grinned as he remembered one of the most welcome sights in his life... the sectoid going down with a snakeman's plasma bolt in its back.
{You assume that we are not aware of this, of course.} The voice diverted its full attention back to Wychin. {You are wrong. Such arrogance... we allow our allies to fight. A certain amount of ... competition ... is often necessary to maintain optimum performance. You are... } Something was wrong. The voice faltered, and Wychin was able to move his limbs. Luckily, he was still wearing his pants. As he looked over to the right, he gagged at the sight of the unfortunate human splayed out over the purple table. Intestines hanging out, the man's mouth was open in a wide scream, his fingers dug into his palms. Wychin shuddered as he rolled off his slab.
He was in a huge chamber with several examination tables and mutilated men on them. Off to the side were several cells, housing human prisoners, mostly unconscious. The one thing Wychin noticed about the chamber was the warmth. For the first time in almost two years, Wychin was actually hot and sweating not from exertion but from the heat.
"No wonder these aliens don't like Alaska." He swayed drunkenly from side to side, not quite able to maintain his balance. It wasn't due to any state of drunkedness, however. The entire UFO was wobbling around for some reason. He grabbed on to an examination table for balance, and screamed, wrenching his hand back. He had accidentally dug into a man's small intestine. He stumbled towards the wall, hitting it hard. A loud whine was followed by a loud crunching sound. The room tilted, and Wychin was sent, limbs flailing, flying towards the opposite end. The crunching sound turned to a rumble, which turned to a hiss. Wychin grabbed on to the edge of a purple table and pulled himself up. The lights blinked out... and so did the energy bars containing the prisoners. Staggering, Wychin made his way towards the holding cells...
Written on November 21st by Andrew Pokrovski AKA Captain Samuel Wychin