Escape 1: Escape From Aliens Read Free Page A

experiments, where captives are gene-modified, tested, and modified again. Most captives do not survive such experiments. Some Buyers purchase sapients for one-on-one combat in dangerous environments. Such fights are considered entertainment by some species.” Bill thought the voice tone sounded disapproving. “Most captives are sold to Buyers engaged in the mining of asteroids for the recovery of Nokten crystals. Nokten crystals are vital to interstellar navigation through variant space-times and they have never been artificially duplicated. The mining of such crystals requires visual-manipulatory dexterity to avoid fracturing the crystals. Mech devices are unable to exhibit the delicate dexterity that lies within the ability of sapients with excellent visual-manipulatory integration.”
    Bill  had excellent eye-hand coordination. That was required when doing sniper work, setting a timer fuse on a block of C4, or waiting until the exact perfect moment to launch an attack with the rest of his platoon. In his final training he’d specialized in Breacher, Surreptitious Entry and Technical Surveillance Operations. Which training had now become essential to his escape from captivity. “Well, you picked the wrong human to take captive. I’m a SEAL.”
    A hum sounded. “You are not a water-dwelling mammal,” the mech voice said, its tone clearly puzzled. “You Humans are soft-skinned, bivisual, bipedal land dwellers who evolved—”
    “A SEAL,” he interrupted loudly, “is a person employed by my nation’s naval force who is trained in Sea, Air and Land combat actions, which include long distance underwater swimming, overland navigation, parachute jumping to a target, demolition of obstacles by use of explosives and deadly engagement with a hostile enemy,” Bill said, trying to keep things simple. Based on the seal critter definition, it was obvious his rasp-laughing captor had access to the internet and its encyclopedia of diverse knowledge. “It means I will use all tools at my disposal to escape this module. Thereafter I will pursue you, capture you, capture your starship and free other captives.”
    Loud rasping sounded. “Ahhh, now you resemble most of our other captives.” A pause came that lasted four seconds. “Your module cannot be escaped from. It is one of twenty attached to our ship. And the crew aboard this ship is sufficient to control and monitor all containment modules. You have one minute twenty seconds remaining in your orientation time. Other questions?”
    Bill clenched his fists. “How long have you been taking Humans captive?”
    A brief hum sounded. “Since your . . . your violence-focused people detonated two nuclear explosions long ago. Those planet-based neutrino emissions were detected by a robotic starship engaged in a life survey of this part of the galactic arm.”
    Well, this Collector stuff might explain the vanishings of so many people who went out to the wilderness, disappeared and were never heard from again. “What’s your name?”
    A long pause lasted ten seconds. “Interesting. No other captive has sought that information. Among my crèche-mates I am known as Diligent Taskmaster.”
    Thinking hard he tried to recall his lessons on interrogation. “What are you like? Are you a mammal? A bird? A reptile? Some kind of—”
    “My species calls itself Hard Shell. We . . . we meet your world’s definition of an arthropod. A large insect, I believe.”
    The image of a two-legged cockroach filled Bill’s mind. “Well, on our world we stomp on insects. With boots. Tell me, can the chiten of your skull withstand my boot’s impact?”
    A short rasp sounded. “That is something you will never know. Be calm, eat your food packs and eventually you will find a new life in service to a Buyer. This ends your orientation time. No further verbal communication will be allowed.”
    With that the speaker shut off. No hum sounded. Bill looked around, building in his mind an image of his