Outside Space

I’ve been actually already conscious for about twenty minutes. At first I tried to keep track of where they were dragging me—on the ground, bag over my head. Apparently they believed I couldn’t think straight. They miscalculated with the dosage, though. Of course, they knew about my increased tolerance to such substances... And now I was chock-full of this sleeping cocktail—and it got me a mild headache. I would never think of combining these components...

For the first two minutes, everything was a blur. Then it cleared, and I realized that I’m no further than two kilometers from home. Where are the guards, I wonder, and what is my father doing? Well, it only makes things more interesting.

Of course I could scream, but then I wouldn’t find out who is trying to kidnap me and why. So when they loaded me aboard a shabby-smelling shuttle, when they dragged me down the corridors of the ship which configuration was unknown to me, I continued pretending that the sleeping cocktail was affecting me.

Could this ship be from Outside Space? I instantly dismissed the idea. There are countless types of space vehicles; there is no reason to entertain the most improbable theory. But this vessel certainly isn’t from the official Day classification.

Some things, after all, became clear to me. My kidnapper was limping; they clearly kept my abduction secret from the others. They hid behind the walls and went quiet every time they heard footsteps. I wasn’t sure about the foot part, though; someone on this ship clearly had hoofs, and the other one—something soft, slurpy for legs. My kidnapper was human—I wasn’t certain about the rest of them.

Judging by the engine hum, it was a small vessel. There was probably no more than three, maybe five people aboard. Not enough to keep me here for too long.

My kidnapper tied me—nothing I wouldn’t get out from—and left.

Judging by the footsteps, he met with the one with hooves. I strained my ears.

“You did... what?!” The voice was deep, flowing, sexless. Definitely not human.

“I— I didn’t know you’re gonna be mad!” my captor’s voice trembled, I wouldn’t be surprised if he started crying.

“You— You didn’t know?! What did I tell you about unauthorized activity behind my back?”

“Th- that you will tie us to a torpedo and launch into open space—”

“Do you understand who you brought aboard? Do you realize the size of a target on our backs, or you just want to die a second time?”

My kidnapper giggled nervously.

“Don’t you worry! I have everything under control! They are ve-ery busy down there to notice some aristocratic brat’s disappearance! I unleashed a little swarm of rabid rats which are sure to cause a small epidemic!”

“You did... What?!”

Unraveling the ropes turned out to be a bit harder than I thought, however, they ended up on the floor, and I was free. We sure had fun, but it’s time for me to go. When their leader, to whom, I suppose, my kidnapper was talking, decides that staying in Terra’s orbit is a bad idea, it will be too late for me to make it in time for dinner.

Judging by the amount of junk, I was kept in the cargo hold. All three doors were locked—I checked. However, considering the vessel’s small size, especially of an unregistered one, everything had more than just one function. There must be a control panel here somewhere, and if all goes smoothly, I’m not just coming home, but taking over the ship as well...

Of course, I will have to sit through one of my father’s lectures afterwards. That I shouldn’t be so reckless, that a family as powerful as ours has enemies everywhere, blah-blah-blah...

The door opened. I hid behind a stack of crates and caught a glimpse of a composite shard inside one of them. What were they thinking—keeping me in the same room as something that can be used as a weapon?

The person who entered the room made almost no sound. Definitely not the limping man who abducted me. I only heard the door; and, I’d like to think, haven’t given myself away.

I couldn’t hear them moving. I didn’t like the implications behind that fact: they could hear me pretty good. Even as I stay still.

Something thin and gray flashed between crates, barrels and containers.

A quiet, hissing voice snorted.

“Did you really think you could hide from me? And—seriously—stop thinking about that, uh... weapon. It won’t help you”.

My hand froze against my will, before I even touched the shard. Some kind of psionic weapon?

A grey-skinned creature watched me with vertical yellow eyes. I missed the moment it ended up right before me. My expirience with psionic weapons was purely theoretical. A bit from the books, and Aroa mentioned getting under its influence—or rather, its certain modifications, made with an entirely different purpose...

I read about many defensive techniques—none gave a guaranteed result, though. Most of them were slow and wouldn’t protect from the weapon’s primary goal: disorientate you.

Well, I’m out of time as well as options. I don’t like the changes in the engine hum one bit...

Concentrating... Separating all the feelings and sensations from those that appeared after the influence... no distraction... deceiving myself—no, no, tellig myself the truth...

Gray-skinned creature wasn’t showing any emotion. Its face didn’t even have any features except for eyes and a round, meshy orifice between them. But something was telling me that it still thinks I’m under its influence. It extended its long, tentacled hands, and I took an opportunity and threw it on the floor by its wrist. I barely dodged when it reached out with two tentacles as long as me.

I sprinted to the door in hopes that it was left unlocked—it wasn’t—and to take a better look at the area. Junk, junk... Ah, there’s the control panel!

The creature has already thrown itself back in the air with its long tentacles growing from its back.

I barely avoided hits and strikes from all sides—by hands, legs and tentacles. There wasn’t much left to do, only to dodge and run. The creature’s body bent and twisted at impossible angles.

“Wait...” I tried to interrupt. “Couldn’t we just talk?”

“You won’t tell me anything new,” the creature responded. A wide, sticky mouth opened on its face and disappeared the moment the creature went silent. Its voice didn’t indicate shortness of breath; on the other hand, I have no idea how the shortness of breath would sound with this species.

“If so...” a tentacle nearly poked out my eye, “you do understand that I only wish to go home? Your... crew member, the one who kidnapped me, appears to be outnumbered, and no one else is happy that I am here!”

“You have big ears!”

“Thanks!” — I even laughed nervously.

“Well, you know how it is,” the creature said calmly as if it wasn’t trying to kill me with its every move, “you return to your planetary manor—”

“Not at all planetary! My family owns less than one hundredth part of the planet’s landmass!”

The creature snorted, and a couple of drops of its suspiciously acid-smelling saliva flew by my ear. A lock of my hair, steaming on the cut, fell on the floor.

“You return to your one-hundredth part of the landmass. Your father asks where you were...”

“Taking a stroll in the woods”.

“Of course”.

“You don’t believe me?”

“You can resist telepathy—how can you be trusted?”

“So, what’s your plan of action?”

“What do you think? To kill you, until it’s too late. Don’t blame me. If it weren’t for that idiot, you would still be down on Terra without a care in the world. But no, now I have to clean up after him—me again! Of course it’s me, who else is up for the job! Every! Time!” the creature hissed, attacking more and more fiercely.

Everytime I tried to fight back, the tentacles almost grabbed my limb, and it was impossible to hit the creature with anything I grabbed as a weapon. It was as if it predicted my every move.

Or it did. If a psionic weapon exists, why wouldn’t such forms of life?

I caught a glimpse of the control panel again, and the configuration seemed familiar... Not exactly the Day standard, but I would figure it out. That is, if I wasn’t being killed at the moment.

If the creature really reads my mind... I need to think of something else. Of course, in that case it already knows how I plan to escape... but I’ll be able to conceal the most important parts. Plus—it thinks, I can lie under telepathy. It’s great if it overestimates my abilities!

I sprinted to the control panel. The creature froze in confusion—only for a split second, but that was enough to show me that it wasn’t expecting such an obvious course of action from me.

I had to act fast and—most importantly—not to think. Find a perfect moment, a fraction of a second, when the creature passes the dangerously unstable stack of crates that will fall on its head after a single kick...

I only hope, it would be enough. I need just a couple of minutes... no, no, one will do. The configuration is really familiar... and the creature is buried under a pile of junk. I hope it’s not dead. After all, if it wasn’t for the limping man, it wouldn’t have to fight me at all. Or, well, “clean up”. Ironic. Unfortunately, I know nothing of its physiology. I’ve never even read about psionic forms of life.

I barely managed to log into the admin account, and the door opened again. I saw a tall humanoid dressed in gray and green in the corner of my eyes. They held something heavy.

And then everything went black.