by Calista Skye
But I really don't want to give up any names at all. The Bululg typically don't interrogate captured Earthlings, Resistance fighters or otherwise. They don't seem to care much about those things, probably because they're confident that we have no chance of kicking them off the planet.
No, my fate could be worse than just interrogation and torture. There's a lot we don't know about the Bululg and the other aliens, but we know this: They really like Earth women. Not because we're good dressers or great conversationalists, but because we can be sold for a great profit. For a whole bunch of alien races, Earth women are extremely popular to breed.
And I have a bad feeling I'm about to be sold for that exact purpose.
2
- Mila -
A few hours later the door opens, and a plastic bucket is slid into the cell before the door silently closes again.
I take a peek inside. Yep, that's the notorious gruel-like substance that the Bululg feed to all captured humans. It looks disgusting, and the taste is even worse. But they say it's nutritious enough.
Eating that stuff is the last thing I want to do right now. I'm far too worried about my future, and about Emma, to have much of an appetite. But I'm a soldier of the Resistance. During training, our experienced instructors told us that eating your fill whenever food is available is how you know someone is a professional warrior. In wartime, you just never know when you'll be able to eat again. So you better load up when you can.
Well, the Earth governments may have surrendered to the aliens the first chance they got, but in the Resistance we're always in a state of war. So I pinch my nose shut with one hand, stick the other down into the cold goop, scoop up a handful, and munch on it, closing my eyes and pretending it's just some kind of fancy muesli with lots of cinnamon. As long as I can't smell it, the illusion is actually not that hard to maintain. That's another thing we were taught.
I'm not able to finish the whole bucket, but the gruel does sate me and gives more energy to my worries.
“Damn it,” I sigh. “I hope Emma was able to escape.”
But being chased by a fresk was the worst-case scenario for our mission. We knew it could happen, but the potential for the mission was so great that we all agreed it was worth the risk. Emma kept saying the whole idea was insane, but that's just her way of voicing her nervousness. She volunteered, and she didn't hesitate when it came down to it.
The one thing I must avoid is to think of my little sister, torn to pieces by that alien monster, dying alone outside the main alien base in the northeast, calling my name. Or Evan's…
“Stop it, girl,” I admonish myself and shake it off before the itch in my eyes becomes real tears.
Okay. What do I do now?
“Ingrid, what do you do when you've been captured by aliens?”
“Mila, if you get captured by aliens, my data indicates that the best thing to do is to escape. But I have no signal, so I can't be sure. I also can't contact Population Control.”
“Escape, huh?”
“As far as I can tell.”
“Ingrid, has anyone ever escaped from the Bululg?”
“The data I have indicates that nobody has ever escaped from the Bululg.”
My phone is so damn chipper it makes me want to slap it. “Ingrid, can you be less upbeat?”
“I don't want to. I enjoy having a positive outlook. Maybe try it?”
Actually, I think I'll slap whoever programmed that response. “Good grief. Ingrid, how do you escape from a Bululg prison?”
“From the data available to me, it appears that digging through a wall or climbing a wall when out in the yard is the most effective way to escape from prison. Getting the help of a helicopter would also seem to have a high rate of success!”
I frown. Helicopter? “You get that data from news reports of successful jailbreaks in the 20th century, don't you?”
“Mostly!” the phone chirps.
I groan, then examine the cell once more, much slower this time, going over each square inch of alien organic-looking material to look for the slightest weakness or crack or anything that could give me hope. The walls have a slight give to them. But there aren't even visible joints or corners in this cell, much less cracks. It's like it was grown in one piece. Even the grate has a solid surface right under it.
“Ingrid, what kind of material are Bululg bases made from?”
“They are made from materials of extraterrestrial origin. They are extremely durable. They all have a high carbon content and seem to be partly organic. No other data is available.”
I sigh. “Figures.”
When the Earth leaders surrendered our planet to the invaders, one of the arguments they used for giving up the fight was that we would all be given access to wonderful alien technology that would bring us into a new and better age. There would be all kinds of medical equipment and materials and new non-polluting energy sources.
Almost two years later, that has still not happened. Nobody knows what kind of tech the Bululg have or how they or other aliens fly through space. And just as many people die from illnesses and hunger on Earth as before we were invaded. People are now pretty sure the aliens never promised to give us anything.
My cellphone has a lot of illicit data on it, stuff that the Resistance has been able to piece together since the invasion. But even that doesn't tell us much about the Bululg.
“Ingrid, can you find—”
The door opens and sharp blue light flows in. A squat alien with four legs and two extremely long arms comes in and unceremoniously cuts my jumpsuit off with a short, glinting blade.
“Hey, what—” I scramble to get to my feet, hitting my head on the ceiling again as the tatters of the ruined suit fall off me, along with my phone. Immediately, the chip in my arm shocks me.
“Ow! Shit!”
With quick movements, the alien picks up one piece of my suit, takes the cellphone out, puts it in a transparent pouch, and tapes the whole thing around my waist so the phone is at the small of my back.
“I guess you guys know about the chip,” I say lamely, standing there in only panties and my sports bra, rubbing my arm and feeling vulnerable.
The alien grabs my wrist and drags me out of the cell with surprising strength for a creature that small. I resist, but it makes no difference and I undignifiedly fall to my knees as I try to keep up.
The alien drags me along the corridor, where the ceiling is a little higher. It's all deserted.
I struggle every inch of the way, but all I accomplish is to tire myself out. These small aliens are rare to see on Earth, and we think they come from a large planet with high gravity which prevents them from growing taller. But it also means that they're insanely strong.
Doors open and close, and finally the little jailer gets behind me and pushes me through an opening, making me fall on my face.
The door closes, and it looks like I'm in another cell, except this one has an even lower ceiling and is even darker.
“Ingrid, any suggestions?” I try.
“I would suggest that you exit this small space. There might not be enough air in here for long.”
Sometimes the AI can't keep up with events, and just gives you obvious suggestions. I can't even find the door I came in through now.
Even so, it can be remarkably helpful at surprising times. “Ingrid, go to your open mode.” There's no need for it to be quiet anymore, and I kind of want someone to talk to.
The whole cell suddenly lurches and shakes, and I collapse to the floor. “What the hell?”
“These quick movements do not conform to those of an earthquake,” Ingrid says. “We appear to be inside some kind of craft suspended in the air.”
“Fuck!”
I bounce around the cell, trying to find any weakness at all. I had no idea this would happen so fast! The one thing you have to avoid at all cost is to be taken off Earth. Nobody has ever come back from that, but still we have a pretty good idea of what happens. The Bululg have
not been shy about their main line of business.
I get down on my knees and try to use my fingernails to pry at the soft floor. “Ingrid, are we in one of the Bululg flying saucers?”
“Mila, I think there's a good chance we are.”
Shit. “Ingrid, is there a way to escape from a Bululg saucer?”
“As far as I know, there is not.”
Well, I didn't expect it.
I sit down with my back to a wall. This just got really serious. “Ingrid, what are the contingency procedures for being taken off Earth by aliens?”
I know what they are, but I think I need them read to me again. Like most things in the Resistance movement, they're not pleasant.
“If you are about to be abducted by the Bululg,” the cellphone quotes cheerfully, “any specific course of action is up to you. But your goal should be to inflict as much damage as possible on the Bululg, their property, and their business. If your only option is to deprive the aliens of a valuable prisoner, then it is strongly suggested that you consider that. Remember that the more Earth prisoners you can take from the enemy in this way, the less attractive abducting Earthlings will be to them.”
I wince at what that really means: Kill yourself if you can, as well as any other humans you find up there.
“The earlier practice of trying to survive so you can spy on the enemy was unsuccessful,” Ingrid continues the quote, the somber words clashing badly with her happy tone. “None of those who tried that approach were ever heard from again. Don't hope for a future where your being a long-time slave in space will have some kind of value to the Resistance movement. It is a false hope. That future will never come. You are a soldier. We trust you to damage the enemy as much as you can as soon as you can, then exit with honor and the knowledge that you did all you could for Earth and for mankind. You will be remembered as the hero that you are. Do you want me to repeat any of that, Mila?”
“No.”
It's just as bad as I remembered. Nothing complicated, nothing with hope in it. Just kill yourself and hurt the Bululg as much as you can in the process. I wonder how many have done that. Not very many, probably. I'm not the first member of the Resistance to be captured and sent to space, but I only know about two others for sure.
The rapid movements have stopped, but I can feel the whole cell humming around me. The Bululg saucers are big and silent when they come and go to pick up more cargo.
Their business is abducting human females and then selling them at auctions. It's obvious that they are planning to make it a long-term thing. They only harvest enough young women to keep the Earth population going at about the same level. Earth is now a farm for the aliens, and the livestock is us.
Now I almost hope Emma was taken by the fresk and not suffering the same fate as me—
That gives me an idea.
“Emma!” I yell as loudly as I can. “Are you here?”
I mean, the walls in here are soft and secure. But can they be completely soundproof?
“Emma!” I try again, putting my mouth close to the wall. “It's Mila!”
I yell again and again, against each wall and each corner.
But there's no reply. “Ingrid, can you—”
“Mila!”
I freeze. It was very distant, barely audible.
“Milaaa!”
I can't be sure. Not completely. It could well be my mind playing a trick on me, because it's barely louder than my own heartbeat. But...
“Emma!” I scream, making my own ears ring. “Stay ca-oof!”
I'm thrown to the floor again as the cell shudders and then bangs against something before coming to rest.
I think we're here.
3
- Xan'tor -
“Is this the place? You sure?”
Frox looks around as if he can't quite believe it, his six long eyestalks whipping back and forth as we walk down a corridor on the Bululg mothership in orbit around the planet called Earth.
I know how he feels. “The Bululg are not the most frivolous of beings. Their ships are like this, bare and functional.”
“I thought they're supposed to be the richest species in space. But this looks more like a factory.”
“They enjoy saving, not spending,” I explain. “And this is their main moneymaker. It is pretty much a factory. Why spend on decorating it?”
“Not even a window to the stars,” Frox marvels. “There is a word for this, you know: cheap.”
His suction cups make soft shvupp-shvupp-shvupp sounds against the hard floor as he rolls down the corridor beside me.
“Not a word that describes the things they sell, though,” I state as we turn a rounded corner. “Some of us can learn a little from this. Be cheap about some things and very, very expensive about other things.”
Frox strokes a tentacle down the glittering ribbons of precious metals that adorn his wheel-shaped body. “Hey, I'll spend my money any way I like. I'm a mercenary. I could be dead tomorrow, for all I know. And so could you.”
“Being a warrior for hire is a tough gig,” I agree. “But I prefer to not plan to die before I can enjoy some of the fruits of my efforts. Maybe not too long from now.”
“You think they'll offer you that much?”
I shrug. “Nobody else can do what they need done. Or so they think. And who am I to correct them?”
Frox rolls pensively beside me. “Seems like a simple thing. Brutal, probably, but simple. Can't they do it themselves?”
“The Bululg hate fighting. They let others do it for them. And I was in charge of the invasion of this place, making the inhabitants surrender almost the moment we landed. The Bululg now think I have some magic power that makes defenders give up the moment they see me. I'm not totally sure they don't have a point.”
“There was at least one battle, as I recall. So not quite the moment we landed. But yeah, it was quick. Which usually means that there is now a big resistance movement.”
I turn another corner, starting to worry that I'm lost. All the corridors look the same. “It is. But this one is particularly effective, it seems. The Bululg are even worried about their profits.”
“They still have enough profits to pay you well for the mission. Well, I'm not complaining. As long as I get a little bit of it.”
Ah. There's the sign I was looking for, a little bit of ugly Bululg writing on the wall. I wave my hand at it, and a previously invisible door opens.
“I'm sure you will, Frox. You usually do. Here we are.” I stride into the large space beyond.
It's packed with aliens of every description. Tentacles snake around each other, antennas wave like straws in the wind, eyestalks turn, and sharp fangs are bared in friendly greeting. Precious metals and huge gemstones glitter in the dim light.
There must be two hundred beings in here, and the sound of their chattering is like the white noise from a waterfall.
“I had no idea this place was so popular,” Frox says. “Totally crowded. And these folks aren't poor. I'm starting to see why the Bululg can price their goods so high. I mean, if this is a typical day here.”
I find a place to stand by the wall. “It's pretty typical, I think. If anything, it's a little less crowded than usual.”
“Didn't know you went to these things. What happened to 'duty above all'?”
I send Frox a glance that makes him pull his eyestalks back into his head. “My duty to my clan is still above all,” I growl. “Nothing else is important.”
“Sorry,” Frox says hurriedly, his orange skin a little more pale than before. “Of course, I didn't mean to imply anything else. I know everything you do is because of the sacred duty to your clan.”
I give him a little smile to defuse the situation. I can come off as pretty intense. “I find these events distasteful. I only know what the Bululg have told me. But yeah, it's a good crowd. And soon you'll see why.”
The atmosphere is electric. The expectation of the goods that are to be presented is extremely high,
and some of these aliens must have come from halfway across the galaxy just for this. There has never been more of a frenzy about any type of goods. Even the Vrex females never commanded this kind of attention, and they were known for their fertility and willingness to be bred by a determined male of any species.
By contrast, Earth females are headstrong, complicated, and downright difficult. And yet, only those who have never seen one would wonder why they're the most sought-after breeding stock in the universe.
The lights are dimmed even more and a hush is spreading through the crowd.
I tap my fingers on my thigh, annoyed at having accepted this invitation. I don't like anything about these auctions, but I decided to go anyway, just to humor the Bululg. They're very proud of these things, and I want them in a good mood for after the auction, when I will negotiate my fee for this one big mission the Bululg want me to take on.
Spotlights come on and the first lot is brought out. Every alien here who's never before seen a human female gasps in its own way.
“Is that one of them?” Frox asks, all six eyestalks stretched all the way out towards the auction block. “Or is this a dream?”
“That's one,” I confirm. “From the polar regions, judging from the color.”
“She's… incredible!”
The female is a pale white, with a shock of reddish hair hanging down her back from her head. Her limbs are long and perfect, her body is round and soft-looking, and her face oval with small, clear features. Her movements are defiant and still feminine, because of the wideness of the hips.
I shrug, just waiting for this to be over. “Not bad.”
