Enslaved

by N. W. Harris

  “The new recruits will only have basic functions,” he said, speaking to the humans. “Once they are under your control, remember to keep your commands as simple as possible.”

  “Engines coming on line,” the pilot reported. “Brace for hard landing.”

  The transport’s landing thrusters fired, the deceleration slamming the lieutenant’s teeth together. An instant before, they were ghosts, hissing down from the sky. They were close enough to the ground to be seen only from a limited area, but every human in Atlanta would hear and see the transport.

  Pelros pressed his head back in the seat and held tight to his restraining bar. The craft shook so hard it felt like it might come apart, and then it slammed onto the ground.

  Despite his armor’s crash dampeners, the impact jolted him from head to toe. The dim red lights came on, and he pushed his restraint bar up.

  “Everyone out,” he ordered, opening the rear hatch via the computer built into his armor.

  He retrieved his weapon and leapt off the ramp before it hit the ground. Raising the rifle to his shoulder, he glanced around the stadium. The pilot cut the engines, and the football field fell silent.

  The rest of his squad spilled out and took up positions around the transport.

  “Open the cargo bays,” Pelros ordered.

  “Open the cargo bays, aye,” the pilot responded, and hatches along either side of the transport dropped with a hiss.

  “Activate the lights.”

  “Lights, aye.”

  The pilot turned on lights integrated into the upper portions of the ship, and it was bright as day in the beautiful, green stadium. The grass hadn’t been manicured since the cleansing weapon’s activation, and it grew uneven and thick in areas. Pelros faced a goalpost, reading “Georgia Tech” painted on the turf of the end zone. Over his shoulder, he could see the pilot had turned on the beacon light which aimed straight up, lighting the dark clouds hanging low over the city.

  “Now everyone knows we’re here,” he said. “Keep your eyes peeled. They’re going to come at us hard.”

  Kelly’s only consolation was her rifle couldn’t kill.

  She had access to all the information uploaded to her slave persona, and she could only sit back and watch as this entity in charge of her body carried out its orders.

  She stood beside the alien transport, looking out across Georgia Tech’s football stadium. She’d been here before with her family when she was a little girl. It was a University of Georgia versus Georgia Tech football game, and her father, mother, and grandfather had all graduated from the University of Georgia. Kelly remembered the game like it was yesterday. Now, she stood in the center of the field waiting for Armageddon to come down on her, her fellow slave soldiers, and their Anunnaki masters.

  Of all the places in the world they could’ve landed, the Anunnaki chose Atlanta. She was closer to her sister than she’d been since leaving for Cairo and wanted to break free, to run north and keep going until she found the hidden base in the mountains. But she’d come no closer to regaining control of her body during the night.

  Instead, she’d endured a roller coaster of a dream. It started with her spending time with her family and Shane, but had turned into a nightmare. She relived an even worse version of the moment when her parents were killed. It gave her chills to remember it. She wanted to cry when she woke, but she had no control over her tears. Instead, she sat trapped inside her own body, the vivid imagery of the dream leaving her feeling demoralized and hopeless.

  Now the enemy would force her to attack other humans. She scanned the stadium, expecting what remained of Shamus’ army to come pouring in. Her weapon followed her gaze.

  Being in Atlanta brought back a flood of traumatic memories. She’d tried everything she could to forget what happened here—what she’d done. So much blood was on her hands—she’d killed more times than she could count. She had no choice but to do it, and with or without the slave persona controlling her body, she knew she’d have to kill again. It felt like she’d sold her soul, but she’d willingly burn forever if it meant keeping her sister safe.

  “I’ve got incoming,” one of the Shock Troops reported.

  Kelly’s head turned in the direction he looked. Her helmet’s infrared scanners detected blobs of heat moving through hallways that exited onto the field. At first, she counted six. Then that number doubled.

  “Targets on my side too,” another soldier said.

  “They’ll be closing in on us,” Lieutenant Pelros warned.

  One of the red figures displayed on the inside of her helmet’s visor turned green.

  “I have a target lock,” Kelly said, aiming her weapon at the opening to the right of the goalpost. She remembered it was where the Bulldogs had run onto the field on that sunny afternoon not so long ago.

  “Fire at will,” Pelros ordered.

  Her finger squeezed the trigger. A blast of light erupted from her rifle, accompanied by a thwack that echoed off the grandstands. Her target dropped.

  The shot provoked the rest of the mob hiding in the stadium to spill out and charge. Kids covered with grime and tattered clothing spilled into the stadium through every opening. They charged into the light cast by the transport, brandishing every kind of weapon imaginable.

  Kelly dropped to a knee and started shooting the ones who were closest. A gun fired from the sideline, and a bullet slammed into the armor covering her shoulder. Flung back by the force, she quickly recovered and shot the kid who’d gotten her. The armor was impervious to small arms fire, and the display above the visor told her the bullet hadn’t done any damage.

  The sounds of plasma weapons were drowned out by hundreds of screaming kids pushing into the stadium. She fired again and again, dropping the teenagers and recruiting more soldiers for the enemy. Soon, the recruits would rise, and then they’d use the syringes in the cargo bays of the ship behind her to spread the Anunnaki’s control. If they succeeded, there would be an army of slave soldiers growing exponentially in number over time. How long before they found the base to the north where Nat and the rest of the kids hid? Kelly screamed inside, struggling to regain control of her body so she could turn on the rest of the squad. She wanted to stop them and let the human kids overrun them before they recruited too many.

  “They’re coming fast,” one of the Shock Troops said.

  “Hold your position,” Pelros ordered. “We can handle them.”

  Kids spilled into the light. They swarmed toward the transport, angry hornets attacking an intruder in their hive. Not wearing skins on their faces like the kids in Cairo, these kids seemed somewhat organized. Most of them had guns, and they used them to provide cover so the ones with weapons of opportunity like machetes and lengths of pipe could close in.

  Kelly and her human and Anunnaki counterparts fired with accuracy, maintaining a fifty-foot perimeter around the transport. After a short time, most of the kids seemed to understand their direct charge was ineffective, and they pulled back into the shadows.

  “Fifteen minutes before the first recruits wake,” the lieutenant confidently said.

  The business end of her plasma rifle following her gaze, Kelly saw a group of teens charge onto the corner of the field. They scooped the unconscious kids off the turf and used them as shields. She fired at them as they approached, but the nonlethal bursts of energy dissipated on the unconscious kids. When they were close enough to attack, they dropped the bodies and rushed at Kelly and the others.

  She got two shots off before they were on top of her. A girl whose hair was matted into muddy cords brought her machete down on Kelly’s shoulder. The dull blade bounced on her crimson armor, and she threw an elbow into the girl’s face. Two other kids grabbed her arms, and she slammed them into each other. Her strength-enhancing armor made her lethal, all three of the kids lay dying at her feet from their injuries.

  Although she wasn’t responsible for the destruction her body caused, K
elly hated herself for each fist she threw and for each drop of blood she drew from the attacking teens. From the corner of her eye, she saw a group of larger boys run at Pelros carrying what looked like a fallen telephone pole. They smashed into him at full speed. Though the impact didn’t appear to damage his armor, they manage to knock him to the ground. Kids closed on him like water over a stone, bashing him with their crude weapons.

  Kelly would’ve cheered if she had control. Her hatred for the aliens evolved into something dark and terrible, and she’d never forget what they’d done and would never forgive them. She wanted revenge. It was the antithesis of how she was raised, and a small part of her felt like she was betraying her parents, pastor, and the entire church by allowing herself to hate so much. Unfortunately, her slave persona didn’t have the same disregard for Pelros’ safety.

  “Lieutenant,” she shouted, firing her weapon while punching and kicking her way to Pelros.

  “I’m going to need some help,” he replied, sounding winded but not desperate. “They’re breaching my armor.”

  Three of his attackers had heavy steel spikes, the five-foot long kind her dad used to break rocks when they dug postholes. They took turns driving the spikes down on his helmet. Kelly made her way to them just as a spike fractured his visor, though it didn’t appear to penetrate more than a fraction of an inch.

  “Get off,” she yelled, with as much passion as she would if they were attacking Nat or Shane.

  Kelly grabbed the closest boy by the neck, lifted him into the air, and jerked him away from Pelros. Even through her armored glove, she could feel the bones in the boy’s neck snap. She tossed his body like a rag doll and kicked the thick boy on the other side of Pelros in the chest. The boy was as big as Steve, but the armor-amplified kick crushed his ribcage and sent him rolling back into the mob. She landed her fist in the chin of the last teenager, and his jaw collapsed under the force, his tooth fragments ricocheting off her visor.

  Although they were wild-eyed and their minds scrambled, Pelros’ attackers seemed momentarily stunned by Kelly’s display of aggression. They pulled back from him, hesitating as they studied her. Kelly helped Pelros to his feet and pushed him back toward the ship.

  “The first recruits are waking,” Pelros announced, panting.

  Grimy kids rolled their still-unconscious counterparts off them and stood. They wore slack expressions, and their eyes were glazed. Their minds were completely empty, and they were incapable of independent thought. Kelly shouted orders at recruits to retrieve the syringes and use them on their counterparts. They obeyed, running to the transport and retrieving fistfuls of syringes. They used them on the kids who were still attacking Kelly and the others first, and within seconds, she lowered her weapon because there was no longer a target near enough to shoot.

  When a new recruit touched the syringe to their victim, there was a flash of light and the injected person dropped. Within minutes, the only kids still standing in the stadium were under Anunnaki control. They obeyed the simple orders given by Kelly, Jules, the Aussies, and the other teens who wore the red armor with the black cross of the slave soldier officers on their chests and backs. As dismal as the scene was, Kelly noticed that the Anunnaki couldn’t directly control these new recruits—they had to do it through a human slave soldier. It fanned an ember of hope. If she could break free, she might be able to turn the kids on the aliens.

  More recruits woke. Kelly and the others distributed syringes, and the growing army pushed out of the stadium, turning the tide against the assailants who hadn’t figured out that these kids were no longer their allies.

  “We appear to have succeeded,” Pelros said after the stadium was quiet.

  The only kids remaining on the football field were the twenty who had been killed, six of by Kelly. The big boy with a broken neck lay on the ground at her feet, and three others she’d hit hard lay motionless nearby. Kelly would’ve barfed if she had control of her body. She and the other human slaves, most of whom were on the original team that set out to destroy the Anunnaki ship, had just earned the first victory for the enemy.

  Within hours, all of Atlanta would be under Anunnaki control. Soon, human slaves would be venturing north. It was only a matter of time before they found the hidden base and Nat.

  Pelros removed his helmet and stepped in front of her. His golden-brown eyes conveyed gratitude and what almost seemed to be admiration. Kelly removed her helmet and held it under her arm, coming to a position of attention.

  “Thank you for saving my life,” he said to her in a low voice. “I shall not forget it.”

  “It was an honor, sir,” Kelly’s slave persona sincerely replied.

  The programmed response sickened her. Rage boiled in Kelly, and she tried to regain control of her arms. She wanted so desperately to punch the alien in the face and cave in his skull.

  He looked at her a moment longer, though still like she was prized livestock and not his equal, no matter the momentary gratitude. Then he smiled and nodded.

  “Stand down while I report back to the Pegasus,” he ordered, loud enough for everyone to hear, and entered the transport.

  Pelros let out an exhausted sigh, settling into the copilot’s seat of the transport. The intensity of the battle left him stunned. He’d seen a lot of combat, but he’d never been this outnumbered, not to mention equipped with only a non-lethal weapon.

  When he was on the ground, and the three humans attacked him, there was a moment when he thought he would die. Thank the gods for the slave named Kelly. Seeing her in combat surpassed watching her overcome the Stilapian wolves.

  “Open a link to General Athos,” Pelros said to the pilot.

  “Congratulations are in order,” his uncle said as soon as the video link was established.

  “Thank you, sir,” Pelros replied. “The mission went as planned, no casualties in my squad.”

  “What’s that on your breastplate?” Athos’ voice was steady and stoic as usual, but his eyebrows bent with concern. “Are you injured?”

  “No, sir.” Pelros glanced down at his armor. It bore the scar of the attack he’d endured, a muddy mark from where the pole slid off his chest. “It was a minor incident.”

  “I’ll make sure new armor is on the next transport,” he said. Pelros thought he detected a hint of mischief in his uncle’s voice, but he couldn’t be certain.

  “I’m to stay on the planet’s surface?” Pelros had expected to return to the Pegasus with a sample of the slaves they’d recruited.

  “I hope that you realize the significance of this assignment.” Another voice came through the transmission, the tone of arrogance making its owner easily identifiable.

  The image zoomed out, revealing a room full of dignitaries standing behind the general. Of course Athos would’ve had the heads of the royal families present for this post victory debriefing. Everything he did was calculated.

  “We are pioneering a new technique for conducting slave harvests,” Kilnasis continued. And, of course, he was laying claim to Athos’ hard work.

  The royal elders had the same gleam in their eyes that he’d seen when they were at the coliseum, watching aliens rip each other apart. Cameras mounted outside the transport transmitted the battle to monitors on the Pegasus, and he could tell they had enjoyed the show. Pelros had delivered—they were entertained. They would soon be rich beyond imagination. It’d be hard for these royals to hold a grudge toward him for much longer. His unsavory heritage would be forgotten if he could stay in this light, and then he could marry whomever he wanted. He assumed the stony expression he’d learned from his uncle. Athos and Pelros were soldiers, and regardless of his successes or failures, he’d been raised to behave as such.

  “Yes, sirs. I am aware of the significant responsibility that my orders entail,” Pelros replied. “If the general’s new system works, we can send one recruit ship to a planet and gain control of the entire population. Seven planets could be har
vested by a standard fleet.”

  “The boy is smart,” the admiral said. He occupied the seat on Athos’ left. He wasn’t much older than Pelros, but he was of a royal bloodline and reminded Pelros of his superiority at every encounter.

  “But there’s a predicament,” Gentras said. He was almost as old as Kilnasis. He’d always been a lot nicer to Pelros, though he still treated him as if he might have a contagious disease. “It was one thing to have this soldier lead a small scale,” he coughed and glared at Athos, “mission to test some new technology.” A slight grin made it obvious his discontentment was in jest. “But we cannot have a junior officer leading a campaign of this magnitude.”

  “Yes,” Kilnasis said, drawing the word out. “That issue has not been overlooked. General Athos?”

  A gleam lit in his uncle’s eyes as well, though Pelros could tell it wasn’t ignited by violence or greed.

  “The council has given approval for a field promotion,” Athos began, sounding like he was about to announce an execution. He’d spoken to Pelros this way before. He always tried to act so sinister when he wanted to surprise him. Reaching to his side, he lifted a breastplate. “This will be the armor sent down to replace your damaged one.”

  When he rotated it toward the camera, a slight grin rose on Athos’ face. It bore the crest of a Shock Troop soldier.

  Pelros almost choked. “Thank you, sir.” His voice cracked.

  He wanted to leap out of the seat and dance around the transport. Luckily, he stopped himself before performing the unbecoming act. The upper left corner of the Shock Troop emblem was overlain with the gold starburst of a commander, four full ranks above lieutenant. His heart raced in his chest.

  “The promotion ceremony will have to wait, of course,” Athos said, his eyes gleaming with pride.

  “Yes, sir,” Pelros replied.

  “Back to the mission at hand,” Athos continued, his tone serious. “We are manufacturing new syringes as fast as possible. The next transport will bring a fresh supply and more fully enslaved soldiers from the Pegasus. You’ll have each of the human soldiers on your team command a unit of the new recruits, spearheading out from your current location. The additional slaves we send will take control of new recruits and provide support.”