Year 3535

Captive #178103

Day 1 of captivity

            I am number 178103. I no longer have a name. My captors have robbed me of my former identity, Satyriana. Instead, I have been thrust into a myriad of other Numbers; other stolen identities. My audacious captors, devious aliens from Mircon that they are, seem to be devoid feeling or sympathy for my fellow Earthlings and other members of the Intergalactic Union Army. I was on the air force.

            We had been in battle for days. I flew amidst the explosions and carnage . . . limbs, bodies, heads, torsos, even the smallest of bloody appendages. My lasers generally hit their marks, which all lay in my immediate perspective.

            Soon, victory seemed at hand. Time did not allot for delay. The enemy had formed a defensive circle about their Elite; their leaders and emperor.

            There, along with my prodigious comrades in arms, I grappled with the Mirconian armed forces. But, suddenly, reinforcements, allies of the Mirconians, soared in and bombarded our troops. I watched my friends burn as their ships combusted, their faces contorted in pain. Their maimed, mangled, unrecognizable heaps of bloody flesh and bones forever imprinted in my mind.

            Suddenly it seemed as though something pulled on the back of my ship, and I was lugged into the Captive Field of the enemy.

            So that is how I arrived, and came to be number 178103. Anything that happened in my life previous to my capture does not now seem relevant, as longevity in this dark hole seems impossible.

            The Mirconians amassed us into a large, stinking, reeking room, which we soon found was the dining chamber. I didn't even want to fathom what was emitting that perturbing stench. We were so packed together; many of us were incapacitated of movement.

            A member of the Elite rose on a platform before us, where he sat amongst his fellows. All were skittish as he began to speak, his harsh, threatening voice booming through the hall.

            "You've instigated this on yourselves, you know," he began. I snorted, and soon received a thwap on the back of the head from one of the overseers, as I was near a wall.

            The member of the Elite who spoke; whom I dubbed Babbling Brook, as he took long to speak, and was very tangential; gave us our rules, to which we were to comply immediately. The list was long, and I have forgotten many of them. But one among such absurd laws was that, during drills, unless spoken to individually, we were to answer in unison. Babbling Brook then informed us of the supposedly "just" punishments for the violations of these laws.

            We were then given paper, so that we may record our hardships in order to preserve our sanity for questioning. I snorted again, and received another thwap. I allowed my eyes to discretely travel over the other prisoners. I was aghast. They held children! And such gaunt faces, bony bodies with infected, pustulant sores and wounds, and dirty rags for clothing, which fell characteristic to all other prisoners.

            I was smacked again, harder this time, so there was a crack as the hand came in contact with my skin. I suppose it was for not paying attention, and a few heads turned in my direction. A few scowled, but at least three held twinkling amusement in their eyes. Not amusement at my punishment, but amusement at my rebellion. I could see it in their eyes. Eventually Babbling Brook finished his speech, and we were fed. I stared in horror as the starving vied for food.

            "Appalling, is it not?" I heard a voice behind me. I turned to the man and nodded.

            "Arexon," he introduced himself. An Earthling.

            "Satyriana," I replied. He nodded, and stood next to me.

            We were all cross-tethered. Our right wrist to our left ankle, left wrist to right ankle.

            After I ate with Arexon, a guard roughly yanked me by my binding chords, burning my wrists. I hid my pain. They dragged me into a room with many other newcomers, and tattooed my number on the palm of my left hand.

            When the finished, I was very nearly tossed into a dark dank cell meant for five, but instead, there were ten, maybe fifteen. I saw Arexon, sitting against a wall, and sat next to him.

            “Hello,” he greeted me tiredly. I nodded in return.

            “So what do we do in this god-forsaken Hell hole?” I questioned.

            “Not much, except get beaten, starve, run drills, do slave labor, starve…did I mention get beaten?” he replied with an air of great contempt and slight sarcasm.

            “Oh joy,” I answered with just as much sarcasm. Just then, two more people picked their way across the room to us. A man and a woman.

            “Who have we got here?” the man asked. The woman sat down across from me.

            “This is Satyriana,” Arexon stated. “Satyriana, this is Xirion,” he pointed to the man, “and Dintiel.” He pointed to the woman. The two nodded at me.

            “178103,” I stated with contempt.

            “Hmm?” Arexon asked. I held out my palm and he looked at it.

            “Your number,” he answered. “Everyone has one. It’s the order in which you came. But I believe that everyone below one thousand is dead.”

            “Oh well that’s a comforting thought,” I snorted sarcastically.

            “It wasn’t meant to be,” he answered, releasing my hand.

            “And when did I say it was?” I answered. He looked thoughtful for a moment.

            “Well, you didn’t,” he shrugged. Then he held out his left palm. 120927 I read, and nodded.

            “And I’m 121462,” Xirion answered, and then Dintiel contributed her number; 134673. We were generally quiet until the guards shut the lights off with orders for us to go to sleep, then taunts that we’d have big days of work ahead of us. Then we were completely silent.

            The guards have left the doors open, tempting us to run. But to attempt escape would be suicide. Perhaps suicide is better than what lies ahead. I do not know. But I won't give up. Not yet.