Darling White

“The dial is set to 1980, Mr. White. Are you ready?” said the operator behind the glass window.

Jerry White sat in the chair inside the chamber looking like a prideful marshmallow in his astronaut space suit. His smile had been a permanent fixture since arriving. He grew up watching Star Trek and Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers, which allowed him to develop a passion for science beyond the capabilities of the human race. Mr. and Mrs. White senior cultivated the spark of imagination and science within him, encouraging him to pursue his dreams when he went off to college. Physics, philosophy, astronomy, and countless courses of math prepared him for his career at NASA. It took him another six years to prepare for the final frontier and when he made it, he knew he could die happy. It took only another six years and an unwavering dedication to his passion for the commander of operation Time Flight to approach him to be the one to sit in the very seat he sat in now. A new frontier previously only heard of in the shows he watched as a kid.

He was Flash Gordon. He was Captain James T. Kirk. He was Buck Rogers. The future generations would sit in his chair and tell themselves, “I am Jerry White.”

Goosebumps tingled up his arms before he put his helmet on, secured it, and gave the operator a thumb up.

“Can you verbalize your readiness?”

He took his helmet off. The smiled hadn’t faded from the inconvenience, as he knew the protocol but got ahead of himself in the excitement.

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be!”

“Powering up and starting the countdown.”

Tests had been done to assure the machine worked. A piece of fruit was the first test subject, which made it the most expensive piece of fruit to ever be grown, as the machine took an enormous amount of energy and it wasn’t cheap building the power supply to produce that kind of energy. Nor was the energy bill anything shy of the equivalent of an entire city’s worth of power. There was rumor and talk about Richard Wright and how he planned to power the machine in his garage, but no one ever thought it possible to build a working time machine, so the mystery died with him. Sure enough, though, with the proper amount of power, the beam engulfed the piece of fruit and it was no more. There was no residue of vaporization, no evidence it was even there outside of eye witnesses. It just vanished without a microscopic trace. A camera was later used as a subject while it was recording, but the screen that showed its recording went to static when the beam reached it. This too, as a result of its placement in the chair, became the most expensive camera ever built for the same reasons as the fruit.

The department in charge of the machine wanted to make it more efficient and have it use less energy, but the fear of breaking it and not being able to fix it without any blue prints or Richard around to guide them gave them reason to hesitate, so any object in the seat usually meant it was the most expensive of that object ever created, grown, or in Jerry White’s case, raised. Though he was the second being with a heartbeat to have the beam of the time machine pointed at him, as a chicken was used as a test subject two years before the time Jerry found himself in the seat. It, too, vanished without a trace just as the apple did. No blood, no bones, no feathers, nor any cellular residue were found. Like the apple, it simply ceased to exist.

Jerry knew these facts, but it didn’t deter his decision and enthusiasm. As the machine hummed and rumbled the ground, his hands gripped tight onto the chair. His nervous system started telling his brain to panic, but he overpowered it with a gritted smile. The hum turned into a roar. It lit up with the enormous energy it was sapping from the power grid.

“Three.” The operator said.

His grip tightened.

“Two.”

He breathed a heavy breath through his nose.

“One.”

He closed his eyes.

A beam of light shot out of the tip of the machine, but it didn’t make contact. It stopped before him and branched in every direction around him, creating a protective cocoon of blinding light. Jerry expected this, as he had seen the footage of the previous trials, but he didn’t expect it to be so warm. It felt safe to him. He opened his eyes, but quickly closed them again as the light was too bright. Slowly, his eyes opened into the smallest slit he could manage so he could marvel at the flowing light. The shaking from the machine’s energy ceased inside the cocoon. He relaxed his muscles and released the grip he had on his chair. The light surrounding him raced horizontally. It reminded him of a river, but with no turbulence. It was serene, comforting, and harmonious. He reached out to touch it, trying to see its reaction through his narrow eyes. The light acted as a blanket, pushing outward with his hand and wrapping it in its warmth. He retracted his hand and the cocoon receded to its spherical form. Jerry looked at his gloved hand and analyzed it, trying desperately to find any physical evidence to show that he touched the bright sphere, but his hand felt and looked the same as it ever had.

His body began to float, causing his legs to kick in the air as he instinctually looked for solid ground. The light moved with his legs and floating body, maintaining its spherical shape.

“Control?” He called out, but there was no answer.

“Control?” Again, but this time with concern and fear in his voice.

“Anyone?” He knew he was alone.

Slowly, the light faded. Jerry opened his eyes and gasped for air. As he floated among the stars, he quickly realized how alone he was. His eyes scanned the stars in front of him, looking for a moon or a planet or anything that resembled solid ground, but there was nothing nearby. He wanted to find a way out of this like he knew Buck Rogers or James T. Kirk could, but the reality of science fiction’s favorite setting sank in and he knew there was no way he could survive. His consciousness faded to black quickly after the realization, sparing him from the pain of decompression, as his space suit wasn’t pressurized. Water and blood pushed through his body and crystalized, breaking into hundreds of pieces against the caved in space suit. The electrical signals in his brain ceased and his body stiffened as it froze.

Lights from an approaching vessel illuminated his frozen face. Ice crystals twinkled, making him look studded with millions of precious jewels. An arm extended from the vessel and gently wrapped itself around his body, careful not to squeeze too hard so as not to break him. The arm held him in place and instead of risking the force of pulling him into the ship, the ship instead traveled to him until he was inside. Three Tall, slender, unsettlingly white humanoids were waiting to carefully bring Jerry down. They slowly laid him on a hovering gurney and escorted him out of the docking bay. As they exited, the extension arm broke into dozens of slats and scattered to pieces of the floor, filling in the cut out pieces until it was a complete and smooth floor. The shaft that held the slats retracted into a hole in the floor that covered up, erasing any evidence that it existed.

The corridors the humanoids traveled were clean, bright, made of a smooth, yet hard material. The walls didn’t form any edges, instead smoothing into rounded corners. A path of lights lit in front of them as they made their way, leading them down a connecting hallway and to a door with a symbol that resembled a sun on it. The door whooshed to the side as they approached. The creatures brought the gurney to a pod protruding from the wall. One of them waved two of its three fingers across a console that lit up and chimed faintly. The pod’s cover retracted down into its side housing, splitting in the middle and parting ways with itself. The other two lifted Jerry up with ease and gently placed him in the pod and stepped back, leaving the one operating the console to work in peace.

Another wave from the three fingered being and the console gave another chime, prompting the doors to come back out and close, sealing in the middle. The pod’s bed slowly changed colors from a metallic grey to a soft orange, heating the atmosphere inside the structure; water seeped in from the sides, taking it’s time to fill the tank; a gas could be heard dispensing into the pod, turning to smoke when it touched the water and obstructing the view. A screen appeared on the glass, displaying the inside of the pod as if the smoke weren’t there.

The tall, slender creature monitored the pod’s activities. They made more waving gestures at the monitor, bringing up Jerry’s vitals. When his temperature made it above freezing, the creature placed both of its three fingered appendages on circles that appeared outside its left and right borders. Two mechanical arms, ending in thin, sharp points, made their way from the smooth surface of the pod’s bed and angled themselves toward Jerry. The creature controlled their movements using the circles displayed next to the monitor on the pod. The smooth, solid shaft of the mechanical arms had no points that made it appear it could pivot, but its structure changed with signals from the creature’s hand motions, creating angles and pivots that allowed the arms to pierce the suit and thawed skin of Jerry White.

Another display appeared, this time showing a chemical pumping through the mechanical arm and into Jerry. The vitals display started to show positive results, as Jerry’s heartbeat started to form and increase. His blood pressure returned with the heartbeat and his lungs began taking in and processing the smoke filled environment within the pod. He opened his eyes and gasped the air as if he were back floating in space fighting for oxygen he knew wasn’t there. The creature retracted the syringe like arms and embedded them back into the base of the pod, its angles and pivots smoothing back into a solid rod, showing no signs of breakage or malleability. It pushed a couple of buttons, opening vents to drain the water and whisk the smoke away. The pod bed’s soft orange glow slowly ceased, bringing it back to metallic gray.

Jerry yelled and flailed in the pod as he tried to process the moment his existence came back, splashing what was left of the water, accidentally launching a few streams into his sinus. It made him realize the phantom pains of his lungs collapsing, his eyes bulging, and his skin freezing haunted him, adding fuel to his frantic energy. As the smoke cleared, he caught a glimpse of his savior. The image frightened him and he gained just enough composure to allow instincts to kick in and ball himself into the corner of the pod, scared of what was outside the glass. His space suit had never felt so protective, but he knew it was an arbitrary comfort, something that sunk in as the glass unsealed itself in the middle and retracted into the pod’s base. Jerry quickly jumped off the table and backed into the first corner he could find.

“Who are you?!” His eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, so he couldn’t see their faces or where he was at. “Where am I?!” The room was bright white. It reminded him of the sterile rooms he saw in sci-fi shows to present them as clean and germ free.

One of the tall beings took a collar from a nearby shelf and walked over to Jerry. It knelt down and fastened it onto him neck. He struggled against its efforts, but the strength of from the slender frame was surprisingly great. This was the closest he had been to its face. His eyes focused and made out its facial features – a hairless, oversized cranium with large black eyes and two slits for nostrils. There was no mouth or ears to be seen, but still had a jawline that formed into a chin. The sight made Jerry want nothing more than to take a swim in the darkness of space again. He could feel his jugular pumping his anxiety hard through his body, making him feel alive in a time when he questioned his willingness to be so.

The slender framed seemed a lot more intimidating now that Jerry felt the white creature’s strength. It didn’t stop him from fighting when the creature grabbed the newly fastened collar and hooked a leash onto it. It fit snuggly around his neck, leaving Jerry no hope of getting out of it. The creature stood tall and walked away, holding the leash. He resisted the pull, but his new handler stopped, turned, gave him a signal with his three fingered hand that Jerry interpreted as “Come.” and pulled hard. His neck craned and he feared if he kept resisting, it’d break. He considered it, allowing the severing of his central nervous system to solve all of his current woes seemed about as appealing as the depths of space. The curious nature within him kept the notions to fantasy. Under normal circumstances, if anything involving being on an alien ship could be considered normal circumstances, he’d jump at the opportunity for a tour. His dreams as a kid never included being held in bondage.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked as he crawled with the momentum of the jerking leash until he was able to get to his feet. The tall white creature gave no answer that he could see. Communication was important in NASA, and Jerry was often lauded as a gifted communicator. Lacking the ability to use the skill in the ways he was accustomed made him feel both excited and helpless. He loved a good challenge, but this challenge was on a whole different level than what he was trained for. Human to human contact had a lot to go off – words, body language, eyes, eyebrows, and context – but he didn’t know how much time he had to figure it out with his captors, who had no eyebrows or words. Their body language was uniform among the three in his company, moving with grace and ease as they moved. Had Jerry been born that tall and skinny, he’d have been an anomaly among humans and probably have terrible knee joint pain. The little solace he found was in recalling episodes of Star Trek or Flash Gordon where slaves were involved. He wondered if he was going to be trained as a gladiator like on the planet Triskelion.

He followed his handler, flanked by the other two beings, down long bright, white hallways to a door with a word Jerry recognized in the middle of characters he had never seen.

EARTH

It’s a word that made his heart sore. Hope was something he didn’t think he’d find, but reading the name for his home brought an energy that manifested as a smile. The lead creature waved a hand on the panel next to the door. A chime sounded and the group waited.

Jerry recognized this social ritual and concluded they did their equivalent of a knock. Much to his delight, the door swooshed aside and they were greeted by another tall white, but this one in clothes. More hope swelled in him. He realized if he could figure out the ship, its basic functions, and its crew, then he may be able to plan an escape. It’s what his heroes would have done and now he was able to take a shred of pride in being able to emulate them.

He did his best to take note of every detail he could. The panel and the way the creature interacted with it, the colors of the clothes of the one that greeted them, the body language of his handlers when the door opened. The greeter’s black and purple clothes were fitted tight to his form. Before Jerry could contemplate the meaning of the colors, his handlers walked in, pulling him along. The white of the hallway ended at the door, giving way to a pallet of dark monotones.

As he was pulled along, Jerry made note of the greeter staying by the door. He deduced that it may be a security guard, which made him think he was being brought to someone of importance. They stopped in front of another clothed being, in similarly black, form fitted clothes like the card, but the banner running from left shoulder to right hip was colored red with white trim instead of solid purple. The whites stood before the important one, both of them acknowledging one another, but with no mouths, Jerry stood in silence. Their body language told him that a conversation was taking place, making him believe they must be telepathic.

The handler bowed and turned away with his two cohorts and walked away, leaving Jerry with the important one. It walked toward him and placed a hand on his head. Jerry winced, anticipating incoming abuse at the hands of the important one, but it instead ruffled his hair and gave him, what he could only assume was the alien equivalent of, a head scratch.

He recognized this interaction. It’s the same kind he had growing up with his dog. The realization made Jerry realize he wasn’t being kept as a slave or groomed to be in a gladiator battle; he was a pet. Despite the realization, confusion appeared on his face. The important one scurried excitedly to a handle out of the wall behind it. It opened to reveal shelving Jerry recognized to be a fridge and pulled out a plate with something foreign on it. Jerry stood, shocked. It knelt down in front of him and put the plate at its feet and gestured to it with one of its three fingered hand. Despite it being cold, an aroma could be picked up off whatever was on the plate and it wasn’t the most appealing to him. It smelled of seafood and onions, neither of which Jerry cared for. Jerry shook his head, prompting the alien to stand and walk behind him. It placed its hands on his shoulders and forced him down. He let out a yell from the pain. The knees and hips of his old frame popped from the force, forcing him onto his hands and knees. His face hung over the plate close enough that the aroma was strong enough to make him gag. As he regained his faculties, a hand appeared in his peripheral, gesturing to the food.

He was hungry, having not eaten since the day before zapping back in time. It almost looked appealing, but he couldn’t get over the smell. The choice was made for him, as a hand gently pushed the back of his head until his face was covered in the pile of smelly mush. Any smidgen of appeal the slop had completely faded upon tasting it. There were flavors he had never tasted and wished it had stayed that way. The three fingered hand gave him a pet as a reward. He continued eating, fearing what would happen to him if he stopped. The important one backed away and sat down to watch its accomplishment.

The routine became the norm for Jerry over the next several months. His clothes were changed to resemble his handler’s and he was given a corner in its quarters to sleep in. The guard at the door was less present, opting to stand outside instead so the important one could be left alone with Jerry. It would present him with a task or a treat, and Jerry was expected to guess what the task was or show joy over the treat. Performing the task incorrectly or not showing appreciation for the treat would result in a variety of punishments. He would be beaten, hosed down, starved, or tortured in more sophisticated ways. Lease of his favorites employed was a device that generated a sonic frequency capable of making his ears bleed when they felt he needed a particularly cruel punishment. He even stopped pleading for answers to his whereabouts or what they wanted with him. Obedience became him once they started using the sonic device, but his mind never stopped trying to figure them out.

The important one liked to show him around; let him performs tasks and tricks for others around the ship. Jerry took note of the rooms, of the symbols on panels and walls as well as the body language they used during their telepathic conversations. He kept in mind what could be used to deliver a lethal blow to himself or, better, he thought, to his captor.

When he first toured through the ship, the tall whites were weary. They guarded their belongings, retreated back into their quarters, or stared to make sure he wasn’t a threat. The body language of his handler and the others’ reactions indicated that the important one was attempting to calm their emotions and convince them that he was obedient and loyal.

It wasn’t immediate by any means. Weeks went by and the tall whites kept their guard up despite the important one’s urgings. Jerry started to wonder if his handler was important at all, but respect was always given when they entered the room. The creatures would always greet it, stand at attention, and even present gifts. He wasn’t able to figure out what the gifts meant or what they were, but it was a common occurrence.

When Jerry wasn’t being shown off or trained to his handler’s satisfaction, he was made to exercise regularly on a device resembling a treadmill in its quarters, resulting in him being in the best shape of his life. It was also his only escape from his surroundings, as it gave him the opportunity to think about something that had nothing to do with the ship, the creatures, how he got there, or where they were going. The ship never stopped anywhere, which made him wonder how they produced food. During one of his runs, it occurred to him that he had never seen the tall whites eat – or at least eat in whatever way they could without a mouth. He assumed they absorbed nutrients through their skin or were equipped with some form of photosynthesis based on how bright their skin was. The latter theory also gave reasoning to their ship being bright, which was another thing Jerry thought of while running.

In addition to cardio, he was tasked with a variety of labor intense jobs. If the medical bay needed a crate of items moved, they wouldn’t bother to do it themselves because Jerry was ordered to do it for them. Sometimes he swore they gave him the same crates to move multiple times throughout the week, something he assumed was given to him to keep him busy.

During the early days of his training, he was given a crate to move, but tripped on his own unsteady feet and dropped the supplies. Syringes and vials scattered across the medical bay, which he was punished dearly for. A beating in the med bay, a rough pull of his leash when he was taken back to his handler’s quarters where he would be forcefully stripped naked and hosed down with a cold, suffocating liquid. He never figured out what it was. It had the appearance of water, but the feel of oil. It got into his orifices, preventing him from breathing properly and even making him constipated. Though, the latter he could never figure out if the cause was due to the liquid of the food they fed him.

He only dropped a crate one other time. It was another medical crate, which he thought was probably the exact same as the first one he dropped. On the latest occasion, Jerry noticed that the creatures never took account of the items when they were put back in order in the crate. It was something he thought about during his run. They thought he was careless, so they, too, were careless in checking on him after and didn’t think anything of the items that he was actually transporting.

The thought dominated Jerry’s mind for days. He wondered if he purposefully tripped and dropped them, if he could swipe a syringe and vial. His wardrobe had no pockets, so he would have to hide the components in his shoes. They were made of a flexible mesh; something he thought could stretch enough to conceal a syringe in one shoe and a vial in the other.

The contents of the vials were a mystery to him. They contained a vibrant blue liquid that looked like it would glow in the dark if the lights ever turned off in the ship. He wondered what it would do to his handler if he injected it. Or what it would do to him if he turned it on himself.

Still, there was a small part of him that made him want to keep things the way they were. While jogging he contemplated the benefits of where his life ended up. He was never hungry, despite him still finding the food abhorrent. Though, he eventually got used to the smell and taste, his brain rewiring itself to find it a little more pleasurable – a survival skill he greatly admired when he could finally eat the meals without gagging. Had he ended up staying on earth, he had accomplished all he set out to do and wondered what would have become of him without purpose. As a pet, he had purpose. It was forced onto him every day. He hated it – despised it – at the beginning, but it eventually became simple. After the deployment of the sonic frequency emitter, the beatings became less frequent and his handler instead rewarded him on random occasions. Jerry thought that he may even admire his handler or found comfort knowing it would protect him and care for him. All the punishments made him a lot stronger and he could even understand the creatures more than he thought he ever would.

He felt sick thinking fondly about his handler. It confused him. It’s something he felt deep in his core, but he knew it was wrong in every fiber of his being. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. The confusion further pressed his need to end it one way or another, so the task remained the same: drop the crate, suffer through a beating, and use the syringe.

Time allowed him to think about how he’d do it, as the menial tasks given to him have reduced since he’s been trained better. It would be easy for him to just use it on himself. He could do it anytime and that would eliminate the complications of trying to take the important one with him. That isn’t how Captain Kirk would have done it. He’d never give up. If his ship was going down, Jerry knew he’d do what he could to take his adversaries down with him. So that’s what he wanted to do too.

The wait was torture to him. He almost preferred the punishments, which was something he heavily considered. Tasks were given to him when he was messing up, not being obedient. It was going to hurt, but he had to revert back to the early days of his captivity. He had gotten pretty adept at displeasing his handler before getting the hang of things. Jerry would refuse food again, having it forced on him. He would wander aimlessly as he was led down the hallways, making his handler pull him with the leash. The signals they gave for little things like sitting or going to run would be ignored, and then he saw it. Body language told him his handler was reverting back to the early days as well, being more stern and present over him. Micromanagement was a hallmark of their training, with the important one holding the leash taut, guiding him through the basics of his training. The hose, which was put away in a cabinet that was embedded in the wall, was taken out and set in plain sight to remind him of what would happen if he got out of line.

Jerry drew a line in the proverbial sand at the hose, fearing he’d go insane if the sonic frequency device was used. He didn’t have to worry about it too long, as during a trot around the ship, he was given a task in the medical bay. An enormous relief washed over him. His nerves kicked in when he was handed the crate. He knew he had to do this perfectly since they were back to being weary of him. Perhaps they’ll be watching closer this time since he relapsed to old behaviors. But he knew he had to try.

He picked up the crate and clumsily walked down the hall. His handler held his leash tight, keeping him from falling. Jerry knew he had to throw all his strength into purposefully falling down. More than that, he had to drop the crate in a way that needs and vials would scatter, but also leave a few underneath him so he could stealthily grab one of each.

He feigned a twisted ankle and fell, contorting his body in deliberate ways so the crate would turn upside down next to him before he flung it with his forearm, throwing it out in front of him since he would be expected to catch himself. The process seemed like an eternity to him, but it was a success. Three vials and five syringes landed next to him while the remainder flew forward with the crate that he pushed with his forearm.

His muscles instinctually tensed up to brace for a punishment. A hard strike landed on the back of his neck, followed by a forceful foot on his back. It forced him down onto the five syringes. He felt two piercings, one in his torso and one in his leg. The important one let up off him and moved to gather up the spilled crate. With its back turned, Jerry quickly turned on his side and took the syringe out of his leg and slipped it into his shoe, acting as if he was nursing his bruised body. He looked over his shoulder and saw his handler was still occupied with the mess, giving him the chance to swipe a vial and slip it into his other shoe. Then, he joined his handler and helped clean up, including taking out the syringe from his torso. He deliberately left it in until the important one could see him take it out and return it, hoping it’d erase any suspicion it could have.

The sharp needle in his shoe stabbed through his foot. Jerry winced, catching the attention of the important one. He grabbed the back of his neck to throw it off the real pain. His handler went back to picking up the supplies until it was full again except for the two missing items. It didn’t take note, as Jerry suspected, and rushed to close the crate before ordering him to pick it up with a gesture from its hand. Jerry complied and followed. As they moved on, he glanced behind to make sure nothing was left. Much to his horror, there was a trail of red spots from where blood was leaking out of his shoe from the need poking and moving around. Its constant bouncing from his walk kept the wound from stopping up. The wet feeling in his shoes became painfully obvious and he took extra care to walk in a way that wouldn’t make any sloshing noise.

As they made it to the important one’s quarters, two tall whites down the hall noticed the redness and stopped to inspect it. Jerry knew there was a possibility that his blood would be noticed, so he acted quickly. The important one pulled him to where it wanted the crate dropped. The spot on the floor, which seemed arbitrary to him, was the same every time, so he was already making his way over. He knelt down to place it on the ground. While he was down, he took the small syringe and the vial out, concealing himself behind the crate. The important one turned its back long enough for him to fill the syringe with the bright, blue liquid.

He stood and picked the crate up with him and whistled. His handler spun around and Jerry used all of his newly gained strength to throw the grate at it. It’s swatted the crate away with its strength, but its vision of Jerry was obscured just long enough for him to start a mad sprint toward it. He lunged with the needle in his hand, aiming for any place he could. The important one snatched him from the air and kept him at bay, holding both his arms away from their killing blow. They were at a stalemate. Jerry took advantage of the one thing he had that it didn’t – a mouth. He leaned in quickly and bit a chunk out of the important one’s neck.

Jerry reveled in the taste of his handler. It was surprisingly juicy and tender. He let go of his grip to savor the moment further, as it was the first taste of something he enjoyed in months. The best steakhouse on earth didn’t compare. White juice dripped down his chin as the handler grabbed its neck and fell to the ground. For the first time since being captured and revived, Jerry stood taller than his captors.

As he moved in for another bite, two tall whites chimed at the door. The important one, dropping to its knees, didn’t have the strength to repel Jerry. He moved behind his former handler and sat down, easing it back and cradled its head in his lap. He held it like a child would hold his wounded dog, knowing it’s the last time they’d see each other.

Another chime sounded at the door. Jerry pet the important one’s head. Its body started to convulse. Jerry moved its hand away from its wound so he could look at the gushing white liquid. He dipped his finger in it and tasted it. He felt like he was on ecstasy. It was the happiest he had been and he wished it would last forever.

Another chime, but this time the door opened and two tall whites swiftly moved in. They rushed to Jerry, but before they made it to him, he took one more chunk out of the important one’s neck, creating a deeper gash. One of the tall whites grabbed him away by the neck and immediately snapped it. Jerry’s body went limp. The tall white held its grip, suspending him in the air by his neck as the other being tended to the important one. Its convulsions stopped and its body, too, went limp and bled out.

In the cockpit of the ship, news of the feral human made its way to the pilots. One of the beings pulled up a navigation screen that had a colorful image of earth displayed on it. It made a few gestures on the panel below it and the image of earth became gray. Its co-pilot nodded and pulled up a map of the surrounding sectors of space. It changed the ship’s trajectory, displayed to show they were on a course to earth, to outside the Sol system and far away from the feral humans.