to him and there was nothing - nothing - he could do to stop them.
Micah glanced at the syringe slowly filling with his blood.Not like the other one... keep this one alive . What other one? he wondered dully.
He turned his head to the side to avoid the bright light that was making his head ache, felt his stomach churn at what he saw.
There was a long wooden shelf on the far wall, and on the shelf were numerous jars containing various Xanthian internal organs. A brain floated in a large bottle of clear liquid, webbed hands could be seen in a second jar. A Xanthian skeleton stood in the corner. Its empty eye sockets seemed to be looking at him with pity.
Micah knew of three Xanthian pilots who had disappeared while flying through earth's atmosphere. Was this skeleton one of those men, men he had worked with, laughed with?
For the next hour, the three men poked and prodded, measuring every inch of Micah's body. It was humiliating in the extreme, feeling their hands on him, listening while they made crude jests about the webbing on his hands, the size of his ears, the blue glow that shimmered around him, darker and more obvious now that he was in an agitated state.
They took pictures of him from every conceivable angle, taking close-ups of his hands, his ears, his eyes, making jokes about his ability to procreate as they snapped photos of his genitals.
"Too bad he destroyed the spaceship before we got there," Gene remarked as Red Hair took yet another picture. "That would have been a real coup."
"Next time," Red Hair said. "Next time we'll be better prepared."
"Yeah, next time," Gene muttered. "Your ass will be grass if SETI finds out about this. You know whatBergen said about going off on your own. And he'll burn us right along with you."
Red Hair shrugged as he picked up a scalpel and forceps. "We'll worry about that if and when it happens. Swab his chest with alcohol. I want to take a skin sample."
"Right."
Micah strained against his bonds as Red Hair lifted a section of skin with the forceps, then cut off a small slice, which he dropped into a glass vial. Gene quickly swabbed the area with alcohol, then slapped a bandage in place.
"We'll need a tissue sample, too."
"Maybe we should anesthetize him," Mac suggested.
Red Hair dismissed the idea with a shake of his head. "It'll only take a minute. Besides, it'll give us a chance to see how he reacts to pain."
Micah stared at the three men in horror. Lainey had accused his people of callously experimenting on humans, but his people had never done anything like this. Xanthians had an innate reverence for life forms of all kinds. They abhorred brutality and bloodshed.
He couldn't take his gaze from the knife in Red Hair's hand, couldn't control the violent tremors that wracked his body as he waited for the earthling to cut into his flesh.
Nausea rose in Micah's throat as Red Hair took a pair of surgical scissors and made a shallow incision in the muscle of his right arm. He drew a harsh breath between his clenched teeth as pain seared through him. Hands clenched, his body rigid, he choked back a scream as Red Hair removed a small piece of tissue.
He was sweating profusely now, his hands clenched into tight fists, his body throbbing with pain, his muscles taut with a deep-seated primal fear of the unknown.
There was a sharp, stinging sensation as Gene poured disinfectant over the cut, then wrapped it with a bandage. Micah stared at the strip of white cloth, which was quickly turning brown with blood.
But they weren't through with him yet. They took a sample of his sweat, then pared his fingernails.
"Well, that does it for me," Red Hair said. "You two have everything you need?"
"For now," Gene said.
"I might need some more blood later."
Red Hair nodded. "Let's call it a night, then. Gene, why don't you and Mac go get us some dinner while I finish up here?"
"Right. Come on," Gene said. "We'll take my car."
Red Hair walked around the table, stopping occasionally to take another picture, or write something in his big black notebook.
"Damn," Red Hair murmured, "you're gonna make us famous. And richer than hell." He poked Micah in the chest with a stubby fingertip. "Who are you? Where are you from?"
Micah stared up at him. He could feel the drug coursing through him, rendering him powerless, making it difficult