Alien Freak - Calista Skye Page 0,7

to give it a more human sound, but I don’t want to forget that the cell phones the aliens require us to carry at all times are surveillance devices and not our buddies. “You should get in touch with Population Control immediately and tell them exactly where you are.”

I groan, shoving it back into the holder on my arm. It’s times like these when I’m glad I haven’t even gone to the trouble of giving the built-in personality in the phone a name. At least this thing does appear to have some kind of translation software built in. I actually have learned enough Interspeech to get by pretty well, foreseeing a future where by some weird miracle I’m able to interview aliens. Still, having the phone could be an extra help.

Help for what? I’m in an electrified cage in a flying saucer, abducted by a humanish snake. I’ll be lucky to survive the next five minutes.

The panic is still tugging at the edges of my consciousness, and if I hadn’t still been slightly drunk it would probably have been worse.

The cage is next to a smoothly rounded wall, in a room about the size of a classroom. Except most classrooms aren’t circular. It’s pretty dim, but I can make out more cages, some of them stacked in tidy cubes, all empty.

Great. It’s a slaver’s ship.

Not too tidy, either. Some strange objects are strewn around on the floor, and along the walls there are racks of things that look vaguely like weapons.

I get the phone out again and snap some pictures of the whole thing, then try to post them to a couple of my social media pages. The phone doesn’t have a signal, so it won’t work. But at least it’s something to do

Despite still being a little dizzy from the cheap beer, I suspect the saucer has long since taken off and that it’s flying. The floor feels unstable, as if it’s moving.

The panic comes closer to the surface, but I don’t want to give in to it.

This is all very strange. It’s so strange that it feels unreal. If I were in a normal jail cell, I wouldn’t think I could possibly escape. But this is so strange that I have no references. It feels as if anything is possible, because it’s too weird.

What’s the smart thing to do here?

I’ve watched enough disaster documentaries to know that those who survive bad situations are the positive thinkers who simply assume things will work out okay. It just doesn’t cross their minds that they might be about to die. That makes them behave in active ways that maximize their chances of getting out alive.

I’m probably not a natural. It absolutely has crossed my mind that I might die. It’s crossing my mind right now. Very vividly, in ultra high resolution.

But I don’t have to dwell on it. The worst thing I can do is curl up in hopelessness, because I’ll miss even blatantly obvious chances to get out.

Fine, I’ll try.

“I will get out of this alive and well,” I state out loud. My voice sounds laughably thin and uncertain.

But at least I am making sound, not taking this quietly. It feels a little better. Maybe.

“I will escape from this situation. I will get out. I’ll find any way out.”

Yes, it’s not bad. Let’s improve it.

“I will find the way out of this. It’s easy.”

Yes, yes. The way out. Not a way. Taking for granted that there is in fact a way out.

I raise my voice a little. “I will find the way out of this, and anyone in my way will die.”

Yikes! Where did that come from? Maybe not escalate that much, in case my abductor is listening. If anything, let’s take things down a notch.

“I will find a way out of this and get back home. And anyone who helps me will be rewarded. Greatly.”

Not that I can reward anyone, but promises made under duress are not valid anyway.

“I will find the way out of this.”

It’s working. Being optimistic just feels better. I might be wrong in the end, but who cares about being right or wrong at this juncture? If I’m wrong, then that won’t make my situation any worse.

“I will find the way out.”

Taking the phone out of its holder, I thoughtfully stroke the simple, black cover I’ve put on it. Does plastic conduct electricity? I know rubber doesn’t.

He placed me in this cage from above, and it looked like the entire top of it hinged open.

So