Unnatural Instinct: Abduction

6.

I attach the electrodes to my head and begin to fill in my log. Shapes and images, thoughts and questions flash against the screen as my brain waves filter down through the electrodes and into the ship's thought processor.

I see your face and I see your body as I remember it now: your giant mammary glands, your wide hips and the silky, pink insides of your sex. Your face is still, though your eyes are frightened as you stare back up at me. I block out the part where I brushed away your tear—my associates don't need to know that—but everything else is stored away in my ship's giant memory system.

It doesn't take long. Soon, I'm done and I remove the electrodes, putting them carefully back into their case as I relax back into my seat, my hands flat on the table. My room is simple: a couch, desk and table, and a bed. I have my own private steam shower. A few pictures hang. A potted plant sits in the corner. Ahead is a window which looks directly out into space. The black sky is a mass of twinkling lights. I can see your planet, little more than a blue dot in the distance.

I fold my hands together, feeling strange. I should be in bed by now. It'll be another busy day tomorrow but I can't seem to make my mind slow down. It's almost as though I've forgotten something.

I stand and pace my room, folding and unfolding my arms. It's an uncomfortable feeling—this anxiety. My mind is usually much more ordered than this. I stand at the window, thinking. Then it comes upon me.

I spin around with a start. 'Screen, on,' I command.

What was once bare wall suddenly flashes and a picture takes form. My lab has a number of cameras and I have access to them all. I can see everything. My heart sinks into my stomach. I am right. I've forgotten to vent the gas. It's worn off. You're no longer paralysed. I take a moment to watch as you slam yourself against the walls, wrapped in a sheet, your hair in disarray. What are you doing? You could hurt yourself! 

My other two subjects appear to be asleep—but they won't be for long.

I rush from my room, clicking the intercom attached to the chest of my spacesuit. 'Drones, to the lab.'

I reach it before they do. I see you through the one-way mirror. You're no longer throwing yourself against the walls but bending low, searching methodically for a way out. You look up and for a moment I look into your eyes.

I rush into the anteroom and slam my hand against the button that vents the gas. The gas is invisible and has no smell. You won't know what I've done until well after it begins to affect you. But it's already too late; you've managed to slide away a part of a wall and found a vent. You're wriggling through.

'No!' I double tap my intercom, raising the alarm. Red light flashes in the lab, in the anteroom and down the corridors. My voice echoes throughout the ship through a myriad of speakers. 'Danger. Escaped subject. All hands available for containment.'

Several drones finally reach the lab. I tell them what's happened, pointing at where you've escaped. Two wriggle into the vent. They're smaller and quicker than you are. If they can't reach you, then I will catch you at the other side.

I rush down the corridor. I know this ship inside and out. I know where to go. My heart is thudding hard. This has never happened before. I am considered a master in the area of species experimentation. I, more than anyone, know the importance of keeping my subjects contained. If word gets out, I'll lose all credibility.

Several drones rush past me. The red light continues to flash and it's making me sick.

At my approach, the sliding door opens onto the communal eating room. It's empty, the drones busy rushing around the ship, closing off all non-essential accessible areas. Half-eaten dishes lie spread out across the benches. Once you're caught, we're going to have to sterilise the whole ship. The contamination risk is high.

I shouldn't be here looking for you. I should leave that to my drones. I should at least be properly suited up. But I need to stop you before you hurt yourself. You're a prized and important specimen. I'll inoculate myself afterwards if I have to.

I raise my eyes to the ceiling. I can hear you. You've managed to climb your way up. You've metabolised the gas unexpectedly fast. It should take longer for you to regain movement so well.

Every time you bang up against the metal, I wince. I can hear you panting. You sound terrified. You don't know it but parts of the vent are thin and weak, designed to be porous to let the air pass through. There's a weak point just ahead.

You reach it. The metal bows out as you press what might be your hand against it. I wince again as the vent creaks against your bodyweight. I rush over. The vent breaks loose, crashing into the floor. You follow quickly after,screaming as you do. I get there just in time, catching you before you can split your head open. You're heavy and we both fall together. I twist over,taking the full brunt of the floor against my bigger, harder body.

For a moment, everything's still and quiet, except for the sound of our panting. I feel your warmth even through my body suit. Then you start thrashing and screaming in my arms. Suddenly realising the dangerous predicament I'm in, I let you go and scramble away. You do the same. You're naked, your sheet still tangled in the vent above. You hunch over with a squawk, covering yourself.

I thrust out my hand, indicating that you should keep away. You stare at me with an odd look on your face, like you can't believe what you're seeing.

I clutch at the intercom on my chest, flick a few buttons and speak: 'Be calm.'

Your mouth drops open. Your eyes widen. I'm speaking in your language. We have it on file—English. My intercom is far more useful than just to activate an alarm.

'I'm not going to hurt you,' I continue.

'Keep away!' you scream, pushing yourself further into the wall as you clutch at yourself.

'Calm,' I speak.

I pull down the sheet from the ceiling and hold it out to you. When you refuse to take it from me, I throw it to you. Quickly, you conceal your nakedness.

We both turn at the sound of the door whooshing open. In file several drones.