Chapter 2 (1/2)

Dan didn't get a lot of time to consider his options. He had about ten seconds of brain-crippling confusion, followed by another ten seconds of panicked button mashing as he searched for a way to decelerate. Crashing into a space station was not a great way to introduce yourself.

Fortunately for Dan, he was interrupted by a man's voice, crackling like a radio transmission. ”Hello hello? Is there anybody alive in there?”

Dan froze, staring at the console. There was no visible speaker, but the voice was clearly coming from...

”Hello?” he tried, tentatively.

”Oh good, you are alive!” the voice replied cheerfully. A moment passed and quiet static filled the silence.

”Uh,” Dan began.

”Just a moment, I'm washing the blood out of the holding cell.”

Dan processed that.

”UH,” he tried again, more urgently this time.

”And done! Transferring now,” the man interrupted.

Dan yelped as a golden beam of light surrounded him, wiping away his surroundings. The floor lurched beneath his feet, and Dan's ass met the floor. The light faded, revealing brand new surroundings.

Gone was the ship, with its smooth walls and electric heartbeat. Gone was the comfy chair and shiny console and big, open window into space. Dan was in a cage. Metal bars and metal chains and a big metal lock. Around the cage, four solid walls and a few dim lights pointing at him. He felt like a lab rat. His only comfort was that the manacles in the corner weren't currently attached to him. Nor, thankfully, were they sized for him, at least at first glance.

The floor was smooth, and slick with a liquid that Dan desperately hoped was water. It soaked through his slacks in seconds, cold liquid running down the back of his legs as he clumsily staggered to his feet.

He did not want to be here. He really really did not. Dying of starvation was one thing, dying as an alien's science project was quite another. Dan slid his way across the wet floor, up to the bars at the front of the cage. A hefty padlock kept the door from swinging open. He gave it a few halfhearted tugs before conceding defeat. He hadn't the slightest clue how to pick locks, nor could he pull a strongman and simply rip the bars apart.

Something hissed in the distance, that cliche sound of a pneumatic air compressor, or an airlock, or an animated snake. A phwoosh followed, and an opening appeared in what Dan had presumed was a smooth wall. Bright light streamed in, nearly blinding Dan, and a humanoid form stood silhouetted against the doorway. The hairs rose on the back of Dan's neck, bile crawled up in his throat, and the cold grip of fear seized his heart.

The figure stepped forward, Dan's eyes adjusted, and the bad feelings fell away. A positively ancient little man in a labcoat squinted at Dan, one hand adjusting his thick spectacles. In retrospect, the cage looked an awful lot like a large dog's kennel, and the padlock looked like, well, a padlock. And, of course, they'd spoken to each other in English.

”You're not an alien,” the old man stated accusingly.

Dan blinked. ”No, I'm not. Wasn't the English a bit of a giveaway?” Let no one say that Dan couldn't pretend to be clever.

”Bah!” The man waved a dismissive hand. ”Haven't you heard of universal translators? You could've been speaking Klingon for all I knew.”

Dan scratched his head. What a terribly odd accusation. ”Was that likely?”

”Not particularly,” the old man said, his shoulders visibly slumping. ”One day, one day, I'll catch me another alien. Till then I'll have to deal with,” he ran his eyes over Dan's bedraggled self, ”disappointment.”

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Dan relaxed a fraction, finally finding himself in familiar territory.

”I'm sorry,” Dan began, ”but I seem to be extremely lost. Could you maybe give me directions to Earth?” And a ship with an autopilot, but that could be negotiated later.

”Earth? Sure.” The old man rolled his eyes and pointed off to the side. ”It's two point seven billion miles that way. Your Earth though, not likely.”

”I see,” Dan replied automatically. He cursed his corporate conditioning a moment later. With the straightest of faces he added, ”But perhaps you should explain anyway.”

The old man snorted in disbelief. What a tricky customer. ”Listen kid, you ain't in Nebraska no more.”

”Kansas,” Dan interrupted with a growing feeling a dread.

”Come again?”

”The line from The Wizard of Oz? It's 'Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.'” Dan insisted.

Something almost resembling pity appeared in the old man's eyes. ”Not here it isn't.”