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If not you personally, then a character of yours from your own stories?\"\n", "description_bbcode_parsed": "My question for this week: "Try reversing this scenario, if you were captured and taken to an enemy stronghold, then tossed into a cage alongside a soul eating dragon ... how would you handle it? If not you personally, then a character of yours from your own stories?"
", "writing": "My name is Freya Savitri, and I think prince charming is never going to come.\n\nWhen I woke it was disappointingly back in my cage. \n\nSkin hurt, my eyes hurt, my stomach ached something fierce and I could feel the dry scratching in my throat. A tumble forward to sip at the water. \n\nIrora in Yuruba. Intlungu in Xhosa. Poen in Welsh. Dau Don in Vietnamese. Ogriq in Uzbek. Marwadzo in Shona. Bolest in Slovak. Bolecina in Slovenian. Xanuun in Somali. Dolor in Spanish. Nyeri in Sundanese. Maumivu in Swahili. Smarta in Swedish. Agri in Turkish. Smerte in Norwegian. Bol in Polish. Dor in Portuguese. Durere in Romanian. Tiga in Samoan. Aypy in Kazakh. Sapes in Latvian. Skausmas in Lithuanian. Sakit in Malay. \n\nPain. \n\nDoule in Haitian Creole. Mob in Hmong. Fajdalom in Hungarian. Mgbu in Igbo. Rasa Sakit in Indonesian. Peine in Irish. Dolore in Italian. Bol in Croatian. Bolest in Czech. Smerte in Danish. Pijn in Dutch. Valu in Estonian. Kipu in Finnish. Douleur in French. Pine in Frisian. Schmerz in German. Novos in Greek. Pyn in Afrikaans. Dhimbje in Albanian. Agri in Azerbaijani. Bol in Bosnian. Kasakit in Cebuano. Chisoni in Chichewa. \n\nMost every language I’ve encountered has some concept of pain, a universal trait that most every human experienced at some point or another. I wasn’t sure which was entirely worse, the physical torment of being zapped and pummeled before carried through a chilly desert, or the emotional drain of just existing here. \n\nI saw Loren again. He was alive at least, and from the sounds of things would remain such for much longer than I will. His strategy fundamentally different, his patience and skillset far more effective than mine at disarming their assumptions. \n\nTime to drink, time to breathe. I nibbled up globs of nutriment paste and washed it down with a few more sips. Slowly so as not to overwhelm my system, and thankful that there wasn’t another corpse I’d be expected to bite into. \n\nToo much time and not enough to do. \n\nSeated atop the blanket it was the dull monotony of staring at walls, counting the tiles, relieving myself when needed. And then going right back to sleep. \n\nAnother day of fresh food and fresh water. Another routine. Another rest. The only thing to pass the time was poking at my stab wounds and trying to see how long until that coral through my cheek starts to recover.\n\nIt was two days of complete nothing, lost in my own thoughts, before my body acted on its own accord and once more maneuvered into the operating position for ease of handling. Stable, paralyzed, my arm extended as a ramp for that easy access to my shoulder. The helmet popping up to cover my face on its own accord. \n\nHeh, the helmet was still broken. That gaping hole with half my face visible past the jagged edges not entirely fixed yet. I closed my eyes and listened. The voices of the coming rodents quiet and whispered by comparison to Loren’s joyous bass, the distinction between the two was so hilariously drastic. But I was the linguist. I could understand the words. \n\n“B-but sir!” Tasgal mutters in a panic. Tap, tap, tap, as he walks. Was he in crutches?\n\n“It was a simple mission, pilot. We sent in Prot to clean up your mess and it went smoothly, with the exact same parameters as your mission.” It was someone new, someone young by the sound of it. Unfamiliar but distinctly male, and approaching quickly. \n\n“Prot fell back like a coward and went to grab a small army to back him up, that isn’t something we should be praising.” \n\n“And yet he got the job done, as in accomplished, without losing an entire Max Unit to the enemy. And without stepping on his own forces!” \n\n“Sir.” Tasgal sounded as if he was about to say that was an unfair accusation. “This Max unit is the worst of the bunch, this is Maneater. I am the only one in this compound who can pilot her in the slightest, and even with two full injections she can still manage to resist me.” \n\n“Again with the lobotomizing. You’ve won already, she’s scheduled for the procedure at the end of the month. We can’t act any sooner than that, and with you too injured to assume full responsibility we have to delegate her tasks to a younger pilot.” \n\n“You remember what happened when that Doth girl tried to drive this monster. At my hands the worst she suffered was a minor blow, and the only breach in her armor is where it was cracked the last time. If you send someone else they are just going to get eaten alive.” Tasgal was passionate for some reason.\n\n“As much as I understand that this is your Max unit, the jobs we require are still on the timetable, and this Maneater itself is perfectly functional. You may not agree with it but someone has to pilot.” \n\n“Then I will.” \n\n“You’ve been stabbed through the gut, you can barely walk, and you still have a shard of plastic embedded in your spine that we need to remove.” \n\n“And yet I can still sit in a chair and press buttons. Admit it, piloting a Max unit is far more skill based and mental than it is physical, and our soldiers do not need to be muscle bound and in the top of their game to pilot effectively. I can do it. I will do it. And may the core help me if I’m pulled away from my next assignment for mandatory bed rest I will make your afterlife a living hell.” \n\nFor a moment there was silence. \n\nWell, silence, then snickering. \n\nI was annoyed that snickering didn’t turn into laughter, but it settled down calmly. \n\n“Well if you feel that strongly about it, fine then. We need to have her helmet patched up by the end of the week, so until that time you are indeed assigned to mandatory bed rest. You are dismissed.” \n\n“I want to stay and make sure the engineers- …”\n\n“And I said you are dismissed. Now leave.” The man’s voice wasn’t the demanding presence of authority, nor loud. It was simply intimidating. \n\nFor a squeak. \n\nOkay, I’ll admit the adorable little squee noises could only possibly be intimidating if one grasped the context. And I could imagine he’d be far less of an authority figure if I were allowed to hug him and squeeze him and hold him tight. The same could be said for a lot of Gesshru actually. \n\nThe gentle taptaptap as Tasgal leaves. A sensation of tiny pokes along my hand and fingers, something crawling toward me. I could feel his warmth. And when he made it beneath my head to stare up through that gaping hole in my visor. A glance at his features, he was tall and proper with good posture. Speckled brown along an off-white fur color that is far more common in the snow capped regions than down in this desert basin. There was the mark of rank on his chest and a split hat between his horns. His eyes gazing back were a sparkling blue. \n\n“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you. Maneater was it? Ghastly name.” he says with an odd accent I had trouble placing. Every word he spoke was with a grinding purr, as if his teeth were clenched together and he was chewing on something for every syllable. \n\nInjury? He was too young, his horns too clean, this must be from a local dialect. Perhaps experts in some field coming to advise in operations here, which would suggest a neurosurgeon who’s going to be lobotomizing me or an animal trainer setting up to study the lone Soul Eater they’ve captured. \n\nI said nothing. My name as the maneater was well earned, and if this man would get just a little bit closer I might consider trying to wrap my tongue around him. One bite is all it takes to cripple, two or three and the tiny things become a red paste. But then I didn’t know who he was or where he stood.\n\nHe wasn’t close enough anyway. \n\n“Well, I can see the damage to your helmet is quite extensive. We’re going to have to replace the entire visor. Have to repair the holes in your control panel. We might be stuck attempting to replace the entire collar, everything save the jackpoint to your spinal column. Hrmm. Interesting.”\n\nHe spoke to himself in an empty room. Pulling out a thin scrap of paper and a much too small line of graphite, drawing it over like a pen to write. Marking his thoughts, I remained stationary as the man scampered off to who knows where. Distant taptapping of mouse paws on tile, the whirring grind as a door slides shut behind him. \n\nIt was several minutes before I could move again, gasping to my feet and touching at my face when the helmet slides away, folding up all too neatly in that thick band around my throat. \n\nI breathed.\n\nAlways this thing felt as if it choked me, offering just enough space to expand so that I could breathe but never anything more. A constant discomfort that the entire human population of this planet had to deal with.\n\nI thought about pounding on the door, but Loren’s plan harkened back to me. Pretend, be docile, convince them all to lower their guard. \n\nJust give up and let the rat bastards take you …\n\nRoll back onto my blanket and curl up like a little girl, wet across my cheeks while refusing to cry. \n\nAnother day passes. Warmth welling through me and the pain ebbing away. A scar formed along my cheek to match the marked lines on my leg, war scars in a technical sense. Even if few soldiers alive would brag about how tiny mice with rubber bands and plastic toothpicks managed to injure you. No window to see the sky, nothing but the count of my heartbeat and rhythmic waking cyrcles to mark the time. \n\nWater fed into my bowl from that same tube, and with a wet splat food is guided in via mechanical assistance. \n\nFlash of black, the brown and grey paste coating the sides. I let out a whining groan at, yet another, ANOTHER! live wriggling meal all wrapped up in plastic. \n\n“Dammit …” a moan in English that only terrified the thing more. “Fucking dammit.” My voice quieter rather than louder, anger willing. Fatigue setting on my mind even as my body recovered. One more time we go through this song and dance, hoping maybe next time it will be different. Knowing, from beginning to end, that I’m just going to watch them die.\n\nI didn’t want to handle this yet, and so I didn’t. A low growl, a flop and rumble off my blanket. I didn’t even walk, I crawled over to the food bowl and pinched my fingers around the rubbery casing of a vacuum sealed bag. Without ceremony I tossed it into my mouth and licked away the food stains smattered over the outside, making sure to suck the ends clean as I pulled it free. \n\nIt wasn’t hard to feel his warmth. One couldn’t mistake the obvious panic, attempting to move and just being held in place no matter how hard you applied what meager strength you have. A tiny part of me felt he deserved it, that someone deserved to feel the same way I did every waking moment. The rest of me just had pity for another victim of the Gashn empire. \n\nHe’s placed on my blanket as gently as possible, the ends curled over to offer him warmth. True I proceeded to ignore him completely and set about devouring my own breakfast for the next ten minutes, only wet slurps and the smack of licking my fingers as a response to his muffled screams and useless wriggling. For the moment he was behind my back. That means he was behind me. By ignoring him I was doing the mature thing and moving on. \n\nSee?\n\nAnyone would agree with me. \n\nWater to wash the food down, a heavy sigh at the fact I’d be stuck with another scream and introductions. A glance at his packaging the Gesshru was clearly a man, his horns even came close to popping the seal if one handled him the wrong way. Adult was the important thing, children are rarely taken prisoner and fed to the eaters of souls. Or whatever they think we are I guess. \n\nNaked as usual, but noticeably muscular. Trained to fight if not quite a hulking powerhouse or a lithe acrobat. Another wet smack, gobbling up half of my rationed food to make up for the amount of energy that had to go into regenerating skin tissue and managing blood loss, the amount left would easily last him a while. \n\n“Fine.” I click my teeth in his own language, reaching a hand out to scoop the wrapping away and curling back into my own bed. “I’ll get you out, just promise to entertain me. And do it without telling me your name, I don’t want to hear it.”\n\nPeeling away a banana, that’s what this felt like. Or perhaps opening a plastic wrapped chocolate bar. The rank smell of unwashed rodent burst out with that vaccum sealed pop the moment it opens and the sound of desperate gasping reaches my ears. \n\n“Wwhhyyyyy!” he breathes more than he screams, backpedalling away from my hands and getting tangled in the mess of blankets. To be fair my bed was also unwashed so I probably didn’t smell much better at the moment. \n\n“Because the Gashn are assholes.” It was only answer I could give him, and perhaps the most truthful answer possible. \n\n“H-hhookay, I’m up. Yeah you destroyer thing, I’m up.” He was on his knees at the moment. Close enough I guess? No, wait, he stood onto two legs and would probably fall down if I sneezed at him. “Time for round two? Well let me tell you something you foul breathed slow moving hunk of carbon in the miserable excuse for a life form, my name is Jace Morot. And I’m going to be the first guy to escape this place.” \n\nThe tiny little thing didn’t look familiar, and was just as twitchy as everyone else when I fell into a seated position and crossed my legs. He did hold his ground, and I’ll have to admit watching a mouse squeak up in defiance was amusing enough to keep my attention. I put my chin in my hands and puff my cheeks out, arms clearly well away from him and staring down with annoyance. \n\n“Hah! Yeah, you remember me don’t you. Of course you do, everyone does, I’m awesome that way.” This Gesshru was obviously not the lithe and powerful man with a Coral spear, if he were Orchi’s father I would have recognized him on sight. Who else did I see recently? \n\n“Seeing as you’ve offered the grace of your own name it is only fitting that I grant you my own. Freya Savitri, NASA linguist from the planet earth. If you want to escape then be my guest, but I’m going to take a bet that it’s not happening.” \n\n“Aarrgghn.” His ears pull back and he seems to be reeling at the sound of my voice. Even whispered in this clickchirp language I was always too loud. “Will you knock it off already? That hurts you know!” \n\n“Oh, my apologies. I never would have guessed.” Biting sarcasm just as lost on him as it was on anyone else. \n\n“Ffffff- so your just toying with me, huh? Well guess what, even if you eat my soul I’m still giving up. My soul is going to rip you apart from the inside and wear you like a hat. So don’t mess with me!” \n\n“Yes, quite scary. You are doing me a frighten and all that. Clearly you have intimidated me into never wanting to eat another Gesshru again. All hail the mighty hero.” \n\n“… I get the distinct impression you are mocking me.” \n\n“Yes.” In his own squeaks and as bluntly as possible, he deserved to know the truth of my complete lack of respect. Well, fear honestly. He was far more adorable than an imprisoned one year old war veteran has any right to be. \n\nOr at least I assumed he was only a year old, didn’t look aged enough to be a full two years. Might even be very mature for someone less than a year old. \n\n“That’s it. Don’t care if they took my spear away, you and me. Right here, right now, I don’t need to stand on top of a building to hit a seed as fat as you are.” He charged forward. \n\n“Standing on a building?” now that sounded familiar. \n\n“Aaarrggh!” he let out a blazing war-cry and tore forward in a bursting rush. He actually was fast for a Gesshru, maybe even twice as fast when tearing all out, but still just above walking pace for a human. The little soldier boy threw himself at my kneecap with enthusiastic abandon, back-flipping just before impact and slamming both feet hard against my skin. \n\nWell, I felt a tap at least. The rodent bounced aside and rolled to the ground, already horns pointed forward, his shoulders drooped low and in a wide stance. His arms up by his torso. This was a mouse with actual combat training. \n\n“Oh no, ooww, I am in so much pain. Please stop.” I deadpanned while looking straight at him. A deliberate attempt to appear as bored as possible. \n\n“Had enough yet? Well too bad. I’m pissed and I’m naked and you’re the only one I can take it out on.” He rushes forward again and makes a two-prong flurry, quick jab followed by a sidelong punch. It might have been a boxer’s move if not for his low stance. \n\nPap-pap. The proper response would have been to sigh with indignation, but having seen Loren and realizing what he would do I decided on something more dramatic.\n\n“G-gaahhh!” I lurched forward, holding my heart in one hand and reaching to the roof with my other. A sprawl backward, legs spreading and sitting up only high enough to aim where I’d fall.\n\n“Oowww …” Jace moaned about the noise.\n\n“Dying. You’ve got me! N-no. Blackness. Fading … tell my mother her fruit pies were delicious!” I lay down onto my back and close my eyes, mouth open and tongue lulling out to the side. One knee propped up and the other spread, one arm on my belly while the other drapes into my water bowl. \n\nJace seemed perplexed. \n\n“Oh come on, I know your just doing that to mess with me!” he shouted. \n\n“How astute an observation of you.” I lifted my head up and looked directly at him as I spoke. “Of course the average kinetic force of a single mouse-thing’s fist being delivered into a human kneecap very rarely has the left of power required to routinely stop a heart from the impact alone. Judging by the theatrical way the body is sprawled and the very much still actively breathing one can only conclude that this human specimen is attempting to act. This must be very fascinating.” \n\nThen I lay my head back down and pretended I was dead. \n\n“Hrmph, if you aren’t going to take this seriously we might as well not fight at all.” He sounded more mopey than I would have expected.\n\n“Can’t say anything.” I whispered in clattering squeaks. “I’m dead.” \n\nJust as suddenly as anything else in this asylum run by the insane, I felt his feet on my leg. Crawling up the thigh. Walking over my belly. Wait, no, he stopped directly on top of my breast and gazed down. I poked open a single eye to see his very disapproving glare before closing my eye again. Had to make this helpless act look good. \n\n“Well, I guess I really am just that amazing. Cheers! Every witness to my ultimate accomplishment rise and squeak for your new hero! Jace Morot, destroyer of Max units. With but a single punch I lay waste to all within my path!” \n\nA quick scoop. My arms around his bare waist, a panicked chirp as he’s far more alarmed than he was a moment ago. I sit up in a bolt, turning him toward my head and making sure his tiny little face couldn’t escape my presence. His arms pinned to his side, his feet dangling, kicking at air. Wait, no, kicking at my boobs actually, but lifting him a few inches up solved that problem. Now it was just his tail tickling me. Possibly on purpose. \n\n“I feel compelled to discuss the evident flaw in your calculations based from both extrapolation and direct data sets. According to eyewitness accounts it required three strikes in total before any sign of damage or danger was present in your human combatant. How can we on the peer review team be certain this was not some embellishment on your part?” \n\n“Aarrgh! You dirty, underhanded little sneak of a rust splotch, unhand me this instant! I will not allow you to kill me under any circumstances. No matter the torment, no matter what horrors, I shall not give up!” \n\nOhmygodwow he was so squeaky and cute, he even tilted his head down and put more of a growl to his speech to try and appear menacing. High pitched little chirps that sounded more like something out a chipmunks cartoon than a genuine action film. I couldn’t resist. I just had to do it and hope he’d forgive me later. \n\n“Squeeeeeee~” I hugged him close and shook my hips like a child with a teddy bear. One hand to keep him stable and my other hand to pet down his shoulders, patting the back of his head, massaging between the horns. A scoot and a scootch I was back on top of my blanket with this little Gesshru as a plaything. Warm squishy doll that fit all too snugly between my palms.\n\n“W-waitwhat. Nooo! I am not a toy, release me!” \n\nI responded by tapping him gently on the nose. Laying him face-up in my palm and rubbing a fingertip across his belly. It flattened so easily he might as well have been made of jelly and sealed inside a rabbit fur baggy. \n\n“Preliminary experimentation on tummy rubs and noseboops has yielded unprecedented findings leading to the at present unverified conclusion that Jace is the cutest little thing in the world. Oh yes you are, such a sweet little soft thing.” I made a grand show of purposefully petting him down and rubbing his fur, holding his legs still and massaging the back or keeping his horns strait and scratching just under his chin. He wasn’t taking it terrible well.\n\n“Nnnoooo! Kill me now, please! Oh core take me away from this hell!” Either I was being far too rough, which I rather doubted, or he was trying to outdo me in melodrama. \n\nI uncurled my fingers and allowed him to breathe, to rest while free of my tickly influence. He lay sprawled atop my palm with a tail swaying in my breath and fur starting to look more damp as I held him to my face. \n\n“Has this been a satisfactory second battle of which to test your might, sir Jace? Hero of the coral rooftops?” He didn’t understand my words, but he didn’t need to understand to recognize a taunt. \n\n“Why that Starflung little rust spot, Orchi was telling the truth.” He gasped, sitting up and looking back into my eyes. The rodent’s legs dangled off my palm, his tush atop my thumb like a makeshift chair. The saddest part is that he was so soft and fluffy it was actually comfortable for me to hold. \n\n“I’m not sure what she’s been telling you, but … wait, Orchi’s alive? Did she make it out of Scando?” \n\n“[Expletive] your breath stinks and your loud. No sounds! Stop it.” \n\n“But -…” \n\n“I said none! Now I’m getting down to ground level, and you great big puffed seed are going to stay still and be quiet so I don’t trip on the way down.” He seemed determined to start climbing. \n\nIt was fun to crush all of his hopes and dreams by setting him down onto my blanket faster than he could stand up. Such an adorable little pouty face. \n\n“You’re doing this on purpose.” He accuses, and I don’t deny it. “Ugh, fine. Guessing this means you monsters really aren’t as vicious as everyone likes to think. Everything in wartime is on the pilots, without someone pressing all your buttons you just became this lazy little museum ride for children to laugh at.”\n\n“I’ll admit that would be a nice change of pace.” \n\n“NO!” he shouts now, dusting himself off and stepping away. He points an angry finger at my face and waggles it. “Stop talking, stop making those dumb noises, they hurt and their useless and nobody can understand you. Good pets stay quiet.” \n\nThe only dignified response was to expose my tongue and apply controlled air pressure in such a way that spittle vibrated off my lips and flew in his direction. Producing a sound not unlike that of flatulence at high velocities as a direct result of the vicious nature of air pushing aside water at that scale of an opening. Jace didn’t appear amused. \n\n“Mature. Yeah, real mature of you.” And now wiping spittle off his face he starts making toward the door in bold, grand leaps. “Right then, my only way out of this mess is to get through that door, and out of the main base. I’ll need some way to figure out the layout so I know where to avoid and where to go. No equipment, no clothing, there aren’t any vents to sneak into, going up the food tube is a bad idea, I’ll be drowned or drunk if I try the water tubing. Meanwhile the only things that go in or out of this room are the Max itself and the soldiers who operate and maintain the max.” \n\nHe looks back at me. A glint in his eyes. \n\n“I can’t pretend to be a soldier all that easily, they’d figure me out for sure. That leaves me with only one way in or out. A way you’ve already managed Max unit. Just have to trust you won’t swallow. Or, do things the smart way and avoid your mouth completely.” \n\n“You aren’t going in my pants.” I shoot back, his ears folding to either side and a wince across his face. \n\n“Rusted core, that is just so LOUD! Ugh, that’s it. We are teaching you a quiet language right here and right now.” He stomped toward me, a bold determination on his face. \n\n“HAH!” I might have been intentionally loud in that one. He wasn’t amused. “As if there’s anything you could say to teach me even the slightest bit of new data on your language. I’ll have you know I can speak every dialect more fluidly than even most generals, if anything I’d be the one giving you pointers on- …” \n\n“STOP!” he shouts now. Doing his best to be overheard in the throng of words barraged down at him. “Nothing loud, no. If you open your mouth to say one more thing I am going to throw food in your bed and laugh at it. Don’t think I won’t, monster girl.”\n\nI rolled my eyes in annoyance, flopping my chin down into two palms and just waiting for the rat to get on with it. \n\n“There are only two things I want to hear out of you, and that’s the sound of your finger tapping on the floor. Got that?” he actually tried to sound angry, and I suspect he legitimately was. “I am the best codebreaker this side of the great ocean, if that little kid could figure out how to talk with a dumb beast like you I’m pretty sure I can. Tap.” \n\nIt was hard to tell if my eyebrows could get any higher than they already were, but the simplest solution was to once more play a game of yes or no questions. \n\nMy hand to the tile floor, one finger raised. I tapped once. The sound all but imperceptible. \n\nHe nods smugly. “Okay, good. So do you understand what I’m saying?” \n\nI tapped once. \n\n“Make sure it’s two taps for no, then one tap for yes.” \n\nI tapped once. \n\n“I am the greatest codebreaker of Scando, and I’m going to be the first person to escape this miserable trash heap. You got that?” \n\nI tapped twice. \n\nJace wasn’t amused.\n\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "My name is Freya Savitri, and I think prince charming is never going to come.

When I woke it was disappointingly back in my cage.

Skin hurt, my eyes hurt, my stomach ached something fierce and I could feel the dry scratching in my throat. A tumble forward to sip at the water.

Irora in Yuruba. Intlungu in Xhosa. Poen in Welsh. Dau Don in Vietnamese. Ogriq in Uzbek. Marwadzo in Shona. Bolest in Slovak. Bolecina in Slovenian. Xanuun in Somali. Dolor in Spanish. Nyeri in Sundanese. Maumivu in Swahili. Smarta in Swedish. Agri in Turkish. Smerte in Norwegian. Bol in Polish. Dor in Portuguese. Durere in Romanian. Tiga in Samoan. Aypy in Kazakh. Sapes in Latvian. Skausmas in Lithuanian. Sakit in Malay.

Pain.

Doule in Haitian Creole. Mob in Hmong. Fajdalom in Hungarian. Mgbu in Igbo. Rasa Sakit in Indonesian. Peine in Irish. Dolore in Italian. Bol in Croatian. Bolest in Czech. Smerte in Danish. Pijn in Dutch. Valu in Estonian. Kipu in Finnish. Douleur in French. Pine in Frisian. Schmerz in German. Novos in Greek. Pyn in Afrikaans. Dhimbje in Albanian. Agri in Azerbaijani. Bol in Bosnian. Kasakit in Cebuano. Chisoni in Chichewa.  

Most every language I’ve encountered has some concept of pain, a universal trait that most every human experienced at some point or another. I wasn’t sure which was entirely worse, the physical torment of being zapped and pummeled before carried through a chilly desert, or the emotional drain of just existing here.

I saw Loren again. He was alive at least, and from the sounds of things would remain such for much longer than I will. His strategy fundamentally different, his patience and skillset far more effective than mine at disarming their assumptions.

Time to drink, time to breathe. I nibbled up globs of nutriment paste and washed it down with a few more sips. Slowly so as not to overwhelm my system, and thankful that there wasn’t another corpse I’d be expected to bite into.

Too much time and not enough to do.

Seated atop the blanket it was the dull monotony of staring at walls, counting the tiles, relieving myself when needed. And then going right back to sleep.

Another day of fresh food and fresh water. Another routine. Another rest. The only thing to pass the time was poking at my stab wounds and trying to see how long until that coral through my cheek starts to recover.

It was two days of complete nothing, lost in my own thoughts, before my body acted on its own accord and once more maneuvered into the operating position for ease of handling. Stable, paralyzed, my arm extended as a ramp for that easy access to my shoulder. The helmet popping up to cover my face on its own accord.

Heh, the helmet was still broken. That gaping hole with half my face visible past the jagged edges not entirely fixed yet. I closed my eyes and listened. The voices of the coming rodents quiet and whispered by comparison to Loren’s joyous bass, the distinction between the two was so hilariously drastic. But I was the linguist. I could understand the words.

“B-but sir!” Tasgal mutters in a panic. Tap, tap, tap, as he walks. Was he in crutches?

“It was a simple mission, pilot. We sent in Prot to clean up your mess and it went smoothly, with the exact same parameters as your mission.” It was someone new, someone young by the sound of it. Unfamiliar but distinctly male, and approaching quickly.

“Prot fell back like a coward and went to grab a small army to back him up, that isn’t something we should be praising.”

“And yet he got the job done, as in accomplished, without losing an entire Max Unit to the enemy. And without stepping on his own forces!”

“Sir.” Tasgal sounded as if he was about to say that was an unfair accusation. “This Max unit is the worst of the bunch, this is Maneater. I am the only one in this compound who can pilot her in the slightest, and even with two full injections she can still manage to resist me.”

“Again with the lobotomizing. You’ve won already, she’s scheduled for the procedure at the end of the month. We can’t act any sooner than that, and with you too injured to assume full responsibility we have to delegate her tasks to a younger pilot.”

“You remember what happened when that Doth girl tried to drive this monster. At my hands the worst she suffered was a minor blow, and the only breach in her armor is where it was cracked the last time. If you send someone else they are just going to get eaten alive.” Tasgal was passionate for some reason.

“As much as I understand that this is your Max unit, the jobs we require are still on the timetable, and this Maneater itself is perfectly functional. You may not agree with it but someone has to pilot.”

“Then I will.”

“You’ve been stabbed through the gut, you can barely walk, and you still have a shard of plastic embedded in your spine that we need to remove.”

“And yet I can still sit in a chair and press buttons. Admit it, piloting a Max unit is far more skill based and mental than it is physical, and our soldiers do not need to be muscle bound and in the top of their game to pilot effectively. I can do it. I will do it. And may the core help me if I’m pulled away from my next assignment for mandatory bed rest I will make your afterlife a living hell.”

For a moment there was silence.

Well, silence, then snickering.

I was annoyed that snickering didn’t turn into laughter, but it settled down calmly.

“Well if you feel that strongly about it, fine then. We need to have her helmet patched up by the end of the week, so until that time you are indeed assigned to mandatory bed rest. You are dismissed.”

“I want to stay and make sure the engineers- …”

“And I said you are dismissed. Now leave.” The man’s voice wasn’t the demanding presence of authority, nor loud. It was simply intimidating.

For a squeak.

Okay, I’ll admit the adorable little squee noises could only possibly be intimidating if one grasped the context. And I could imagine he’d be far less of an authority figure if I were allowed to hug him and squeeze him and hold him tight. The same could be said for a lot of Gesshru actually.

The gentle taptaptap as Tasgal leaves. A sensation of tiny pokes along my hand and fingers, something crawling toward me. I could feel his warmth. And when he made it beneath my head to stare up through that gaping hole in my visor. A glance at his features, he was tall and proper with good posture. Speckled brown along an off-white fur color that is far more common in the snow capped regions than down in this desert basin. There was the mark of rank on his chest and a split hat between his horns. His eyes gazing back were a sparkling blue.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you. Maneater was it? Ghastly name.” he says with an odd accent I had trouble placing. Every word he spoke was with a grinding purr, as if his teeth were clenched together and he was chewing on something for every syllable.

Injury? He was too young, his horns too clean, this must be from a local dialect. Perhaps experts in some field coming to advise in operations here, which would suggest a neurosurgeon who’s going to be lobotomizing me or an animal trainer setting up to study the lone Soul Eater they’ve captured.

I said nothing. My name as the maneater was well earned, and if this man would get just a little bit closer I might consider trying to wrap my tongue around him. One bite is all it takes to cripple, two or three and the tiny things become a red paste. But then I didn’t know who he was or where he stood.

He wasn’t close enough anyway.

“Well, I can see the damage to your helmet is quite extensive. We’re going to have to replace the entire visor. Have to repair the holes in your control panel. We might be stuck attempting to replace the entire collar, everything save the jackpoint to your spinal column. Hrmm. Interesting.”

He spoke to himself in an empty room. Pulling out a thin scrap of paper and a much too small line of graphite, drawing it over like a pen to write. Marking his thoughts, I remained stationary as the man scampered off to who knows where. Distant taptapping of mouse paws on tile, the whirring grind as a door slides shut behind him.

It was several minutes before I could move again, gasping to my feet and touching at my face when the helmet slides away, folding up all too neatly in that thick band around my throat.

I breathed.

Always this thing felt as if it choked me, offering just enough space to expand so that I could breathe but never anything more. A constant discomfort that the entire human population of this planet had to deal with.

I thought about pounding on the door, but Loren’s plan harkened back to me. Pretend, be docile, convince them all to lower their guard.

Just give up and let the rat bastards take you …

Roll back onto my blanket and curl up like a little girl, wet across my cheeks while refusing to cry.

Another day passes. Warmth welling through me and the pain ebbing away. A scar formed along my cheek to match the marked lines on my leg, war scars in a technical sense. Even if few soldiers alive would brag about how tiny mice with rubber bands and plastic toothpicks managed to injure you. No window to see the sky, nothing but the count of my heartbeat and rhythmic waking cyrcles to mark the time.

Water fed into my bowl from that same tube, and with a wet splat food is guided in via mechanical assistance.

Flash of black, the brown and grey paste coating the sides. I let out a whining groan at, yet another, ANOTHER! live wriggling meal all wrapped up in plastic.

“Dammit …” a moan in English that only terrified the thing more. “Fucking dammit.” My voice quieter rather than louder, anger willing. Fatigue setting on my mind even as my body recovered. One more time we go through this song and dance, hoping maybe next time it will be different. Knowing, from beginning to end, that I’m just going to watch them die.

I didn’t want to handle this yet, and so I didn’t. A low growl, a flop and rumble off my blanket. I didn’t even walk, I crawled over to the food bowl and pinched my fingers around the rubbery casing of a vacuum sealed bag. Without ceremony I tossed it into my mouth and licked away the food stains smattered over the outside, making sure to suck the ends clean as I pulled it free.

It wasn’t hard to feel his warmth. One couldn’t mistake the obvious panic, attempting to move and just being held in place no matter how hard you applied what meager strength you have. A tiny part of me felt he deserved it, that someone deserved to feel the same way I did every waking moment. The rest of me just had pity for another victim of the Gashn empire.

He’s placed on my blanket as gently as possible, the ends curled over to offer him warmth. True I proceeded to ignore him completely and set about devouring my own breakfast for the next ten minutes, only wet slurps and the smack of licking my fingers as a response to his muffled screams and useless wriggling. For the moment he was behind my back. That means he was behind me. By ignoring him I was doing the mature thing and moving on.

See?

Anyone would agree with me.

Water to wash the food down, a heavy sigh at the fact I’d be stuck with another scream and introductions. A glance at his packaging the Gesshru was clearly a man, his horns even came close to popping the seal if one handled him the wrong way. Adult was the important thing, children are rarely taken prisoner and fed to the eaters of souls. Or whatever they think we are I guess.

Naked as usual, but noticeably muscular. Trained to fight if not quite a hulking powerhouse or a lithe acrobat. Another wet smack, gobbling up half of my rationed food to make up for the amount of energy that had to go into regenerating skin tissue and managing blood loss, the amount left would easily last him a while.

“Fine.” I click my teeth in his own language, reaching a hand out to scoop the wrapping away and curling back into my own bed. “I’ll get you out, just promise to entertain me. And do it without telling me your name, I don’t want to hear it.”

Peeling away a banana, that’s what this felt like. Or perhaps opening a plastic wrapped chocolate bar. The rank smell of unwashed rodent burst out with that vaccum sealed pop the moment it opens and the sound of desperate gasping reaches my ears.

“Wwhhyyyyy!” he breathes more than he screams, backpedalling away from my hands and getting tangled in the mess of blankets. To be fair my bed was also unwashed so I probably didn’t smell much better at the moment.

“Because the Gashn are assholes.” It was only answer I could give him, and perhaps the most truthful answer possible.

“H-hhookay, I’m up. Yeah you destroyer thing, I’m up.” He was on his knees at the moment. Close enough I guess? No, wait, he stood onto two legs and would probably fall down if I sneezed at him. “Time for round two? Well let me tell you something you foul breathed slow moving hunk of carbon in the miserable excuse for a life form, my name is Jace Morot. And I’m going to be the first guy to escape this place.”

The tiny little thing didn’t look familiar, and was just as twitchy as everyone else when I fell into a seated position and crossed my legs. He did hold his ground, and I’ll have to admit watching a mouse squeak up in defiance was amusing enough to keep my attention. I put my chin in my hands and puff my cheeks out, arms clearly well away from him and staring down with annoyance.

“Hah! Yeah, you remember me don’t you. Of course you do, everyone does, I’m awesome that way.” This Gesshru was obviously not the lithe and powerful man with a Coral spear, if he were Orchi’s father I would have recognized him on sight. Who else did I see recently?

“Seeing as you’ve offered the grace of your own name it is only fitting that I grant you my own. Freya Savitri, NASA linguist from the planet earth. If you want to escape then be my guest, but I’m going to take a bet that it’s not happening.”

“Aarrgghn.” His ears pull back and he seems to be reeling at the sound of my voice. Even whispered in this clickchirp language I was always too loud. “Will you knock it off already? That hurts you know!”

“Oh, my apologies. I never would have guessed.” Biting sarcasm just as lost on him as it was on anyone else.

“Ffffff- so your just toying with me, huh? Well guess what, even if you eat my soul I’m still giving up. My soul is going to rip you apart from the inside and wear you like a hat. So don’t mess with me!”

“Yes, quite scary. You are doing me a frighten and all that. Clearly you have intimidated me into never wanting to eat another Gesshru again. All hail the mighty hero.”

“… I get the distinct impression you are mocking me.”

“Yes.” In his own squeaks and as bluntly as possible, he deserved to know the truth of my complete lack of respect. Well, fear honestly. He was far more adorable than an imprisoned one year old war veteran has any right to be.

Or at least I assumed he was only a year old, didn’t look aged enough to be a full two years. Might even be very mature for someone less than a year old.

“That’s it. Don’t care if they took my spear away, you and me. Right here, right now, I don’t need to stand on top of a building to hit a seed as fat as you are.” He charged forward.

“Standing on a building?” now that sounded familiar.

“Aaarrggh!” he let out a blazing war-cry and tore forward in a bursting rush. He actually was fast for a Gesshru, maybe even twice as fast when tearing all out, but still just above walking pace for a human. The little soldier boy threw himself at my kneecap with enthusiastic abandon, back-flipping just before impact and slamming both feet hard against my skin.

Well, I felt a tap at least. The rodent bounced aside and rolled to the ground, already horns pointed forward, his shoulders drooped low and in a wide stance. His arms up by his torso. This was a mouse with actual combat training.

“Oh no, ooww, I am in so much pain. Please stop.” I deadpanned while looking straight at him. A deliberate attempt to appear as bored as possible.

“Had enough yet? Well too bad. I’m pissed and I’m naked and you’re the only one I can take it out on.” He rushes forward again and makes a two-prong flurry, quick jab followed by a sidelong punch. It might have been a boxer’s move if not for his low stance.

Pap-pap. The proper response would have been to sigh with indignation, but having seen Loren and realizing what he would do I decided on something more dramatic.

“G-gaahhh!” I lurched forward, holding my heart in one hand and reaching to the roof with my other. A sprawl backward, legs spreading and sitting up only high enough to aim where I’d fall.

“Oowww …” Jace moaned about the noise.

“Dying. You’ve got me! N-no. Blackness. Fading … tell my mother her fruit pies were delicious!” I lay down onto my back and close my eyes, mouth open and tongue lulling out to the side. One knee propped up and the other spread, one arm on my belly while the other drapes into my water bowl.

Jace seemed perplexed.

“Oh come on, I know your just doing that to mess with me!” he shouted.

“How astute an observation of you.” I lifted my head up and looked directly at him as I spoke. “Of course the average kinetic force of a single mouse-thing’s fist being delivered into a human kneecap very rarely has the left of power required to routinely stop a heart from the impact alone. Judging by the theatrical way the body is sprawled and the very much still actively breathing one can only conclude that this human specimen is attempting to act. This must be very fascinating.”

Then I lay my head back down and pretended I was dead.

“Hrmph, if you aren’t going to take this seriously we might as well not fight at all.” He sounded more mopey than I would have expected.

“Can’t say anything.” I whispered in clattering squeaks. “I’m dead.”

Just as suddenly as anything else in this asylum run by the insane, I felt his feet on my leg. Crawling up the thigh. Walking over my belly. Wait, no, he stopped directly on top of my breast and gazed down. I poked open a single eye to see his very disapproving glare before closing my eye again. Had to make this helpless act look good.

“Well, I guess I really am just that amazing. Cheers! Every witness to my ultimate accomplishment rise and squeak for your new hero! Jace Morot, destroyer of Max units. With but a single punch I lay waste to all within my path!”

A quick scoop. My arms around his bare waist, a panicked chirp as he’s far more alarmed than he was a moment ago. I sit up in a bolt, turning him toward my head and making sure his tiny little face couldn’t escape my presence. His arms pinned to his side, his feet dangling, kicking at air. Wait, no, kicking at my boobs actually, but lifting him a few inches up solved that problem. Now it was just his tail tickling me. Possibly on purpose.

“I feel compelled to discuss the evident flaw in your calculations based from both extrapolation and direct data sets. According to eyewitness accounts it required three strikes in total before any sign of damage or danger was present in your human combatant. How can we on the peer review team be certain this was not some embellishment on your part?”

“Aarrgh! You dirty, underhanded little sneak of a rust splotch, unhand me this instant! I will not allow you to kill me under any circumstances. No matter the torment, no matter what horrors, I shall not give up!”

Ohmygodwow he was so squeaky and cute, he even tilted his head down and put more of a growl to his speech to try and appear menacing. High pitched little chirps that sounded more like something out a chipmunks cartoon than a genuine action film. I couldn’t resist. I just had to do it and hope he’d forgive me later.

“Squeeeeeee~” I hugged him close and shook my hips like a child with a teddy bear. One hand to keep him stable and my other hand to pet down his shoulders, patting the back of his head, massaging between the horns. A scoot and a scootch I was back on top of my blanket with this little Gesshru as a plaything. Warm squishy doll that fit all too snugly between my palms.

“W-waitwhat. Nooo! I am not a toy, release me!”

I responded by tapping him gently on the nose. Laying him face-up in my palm and rubbing a fingertip across his belly. It flattened so easily he might as well have been made of jelly and sealed inside a rabbit fur baggy.

“Preliminary experimentation on tummy rubs and noseboops has yielded unprecedented findings leading to the at present unverified conclusion that Jace is the cutest little thing in the world. Oh yes you are, such a sweet little soft thing.” I made a grand show of purposefully petting him down and rubbing his fur, holding his legs still and massaging the back or keeping his horns strait and scratching just under his chin. He wasn’t taking it terrible well.

“Nnnoooo! Kill me now, please! Oh core take me away from this hell!” Either I was being far too  rough, which I rather doubted, or he was trying to outdo me in melodrama.

I uncurled my fingers and allowed him to breathe, to rest while free of my tickly influence. He lay sprawled atop my palm with a tail swaying in my breath and fur starting to look more damp as I held him to my face.

“Has this been a satisfactory second battle of which to test your might, sir Jace? Hero of the coral rooftops?” He didn’t understand my words, but he didn’t need to understand to recognize a taunt.

“Why that Starflung little rust spot, Orchi was telling the truth.” He gasped, sitting up and looking back into my eyes. The rodent’s legs dangled off my palm, his tush atop my thumb like a makeshift chair. The saddest part is that he was so soft and fluffy it was actually comfortable for me to hold.

“I’m not sure what she’s been telling you, but … wait, Orchi’s alive? Did she make it out of Scando?”

“[Expletive] your breath stinks and your loud. No sounds! Stop it.”

“But -…”

“I said none! Now I’m getting down to ground level, and you great big puffed seed are going to stay still and be quiet so I don’t trip on the way down.” He seemed determined to start climbing.

It was fun to crush all of his hopes and dreams by setting him down onto my blanket faster than he could stand up. Such an adorable little pouty face.

“You’re doing this on purpose.” He accuses, and I don’t deny it. “Ugh, fine. Guessing this means you monsters really aren’t as vicious as everyone likes to think. Everything in wartime is on the pilots, without someone pressing all your buttons you just became this lazy little museum ride for children to laugh at.”

“I’ll admit that would be a nice change of pace.”

“NO!” he shouts now, dusting himself off and stepping away. He points an angry finger at my face and waggles it. “Stop talking, stop making those dumb noises, they hurt and their useless and nobody can understand you. Good pets stay quiet.”

The only dignified response was to expose my tongue and apply controlled air pressure in such a way that spittle vibrated off my lips and flew in his direction. Producing a sound not unlike that of flatulence at high velocities as a direct result of the vicious nature of air pushing aside water at that scale of an opening. Jace didn’t appear amused.

“Mature. Yeah, real mature of you.” And now wiping spittle off his face he starts making toward the door in bold, grand leaps. “Right then, my only way out of this mess is to get through that door, and out of the main base. I’ll need some way to figure out the layout so I know where to avoid and where to go. No equipment, no clothing, there aren’t any vents to sneak into, going up the food tube is a bad idea, I’ll be drowned or drunk if I try the water tubing. Meanwhile the only things that go in or out of this room are the Max itself and the soldiers who operate and maintain the max.”

He looks back at me. A glint in his eyes.

“I can’t pretend to be a soldier all that easily, they’d figure me out for sure. That leaves me with only one way in or out. A way you’ve already managed Max unit. Just have to trust you won’t swallow. Or, do things the smart way and avoid your mouth completely.”

“You aren’t going in my pants.” I shoot back, his ears folding to either side and a wince across his face.

“Rusted core, that is just so LOUD! Ugh, that’s it. We are teaching you a quiet language right here and right now.” He stomped toward me, a bold determination on his face.

“HAH!” I might have been intentionally loud in that one. He wasn’t amused. “As if there’s anything you could say to teach me even the slightest bit of new data on your language. I’ll have you know I can speak every dialect more fluidly than even most generals, if anything I’d be the one giving you pointers on- …”

“STOP!” he shouts now. Doing his best to be overheard in the throng of words barraged down at him. “Nothing loud, no. If you open your mouth to say one more thing I am going to throw food in your bed and laugh at it. Don’t think I won’t, monster girl.”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance, flopping my chin down into two palms and just waiting for the rat to get on with it.

“There are only two things I want to hear out of you, and that’s the sound of your finger tapping on the floor. Got that?” he actually tried to sound angry, and I suspect he legitimately was. “I am the best codebreaker this side of the great ocean, if that little kid could figure out how to talk with a dumb beast like you I’m pretty sure I can. Tap.”

It was hard to tell if my eyebrows could get any higher than they already were, but the simplest solution was to once more play a game of yes or no questions.

My hand to the tile floor, one finger raised. I tapped once. The sound all but imperceptible.

He nods smugly. “Okay, good. So do you understand what I’m saying?”

I tapped once.

“Make sure it’s two taps for no, then one tap for yes.”

I tapped once.

“I am the greatest codebreaker of Scando, and I’m going to be the first person to escape this miserable trash heap. You got that?”

I tapped twice.

Jace wasn’t amused.


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