The time had come. Escape was imminent.
Oiden gripped the Fluff Crystal Gun with trepidation. He had positioned the Zalhfarian pouch of piss just above the crystal and had the blade of the femalien hand weapon at the ready for puncturing.
Hinze began howling in fake pain.
Astron's heart rate escalated as a team of guards approached their cell.
---------------------------------------------------------------
The first of the guards peered quizzically into the cell as if to surmise the situation before gaining entry. Hinze tried his best to seem as agonized as possible; it was in fact enough to prompt the guards to eventually slide open the cell door. There were 4 of them.
The first (and consequently the largest and most heavily-armed) of the guards approached Hinze. It looked him up and down not unlike an AT Paramedic would at training quarter. The other three guards were positioned in a kind of triangle-like formation behind the first.
All 4 guards were now in the cell. Oiden knew the time was now.
Oiden sliced into the Zalhfarian pouch with a steadied movement of his right hand. The femalian hand-blade was remarkably sharp and had no problem creating a 3-inch long incision in the pouch holding the piss. After he removed the blade, the purplish, oozing mass of congealed human urine began seeping into the makeshift tube housing the fluff crystal. Once it hit the crystal, the telltale vapors immediately began billowing.
The guards immediately picked up on the scent. Two of them had already made their way towards Oiden, each at the ready with their barbed batons, fast on the approach. Oiden brought the fluff crystal gun to his lips and, with a huge push of his diaphragm, blew the crystal-smoke right through the pea-sized hole he had bored into the end of the tube.
The effect on the guards was not immediate. One of them managed to land a hit onto Oiden's right side, just below his ribcage. It wasn't a pretty sight - the guards' weapons were engineered to do as much damage with one blow as is possible with a hand weapon. Within seconds, Oiden was doubled over in pain and the guards were exhibiting determined signs of confusion.
"FUCKING GO, NOW! NOW! NOW!" Came the command from Astron.
The team of soldiers bolted like a pack of scared mice right through the open cell door, arms flailing and full of the screams of newly freed prisoners. Oiden, though injured, picked up the weapon that was used to assault him and carried it with him as he left, the last of the 48 men. In their wake was a dissipating cloud of purple-black smoke and 4 guards, all shaking and seething with rapturous pleasure on the floor of that cell.
The femaliens were all on the floor, motionless. Apparently the fluff crystal gas had completely incapacitated them.
"Holy shit..." Hinze remarked at the spectacle, before joining the others in their harried run through the doors of their cell.
The men held together well as they traversed the first 200 yards of their exit route. They had plotted a beeline through the first holding branch through a series of annexes to where they believed their Denstrolle fighters were docked.
"Fuck, Czissin, what are our ST's telling us?" Hinze asked, between breaths.
Astron was running with two status tokens in his hands.
"We're on track. I'm picking up dense signals coming from our 2 o'clock. Looks like we've got about another six thousand or so feet. Is anyone down?" Astron replied. Sweat was forming on his brow yet his composure was well kept, considering the fervor.
"Oiden's been hit. He's keeping up ok but he's not in good shape." Hinze said.
"Good. Let's keep going."
Oiden was trailing blood; it was pouring from his bowels as he ran. Each step sent a fresh wave of the sticky red stuff through his clenched fingers as he tried to keep his garment pressured over the wound.
"Fuck...you bastards won't get us all..." he said under his breath as his run reduced to a jog.
"HERE!" Astron yelled out. He pointed to his right at a door with a series of strange glyphs above it. "Our fighters are in here. Get going on the energy lock release and I'll start manning the control stations."
The soldiers assigned to their duties scattered to begin their respective tasks.
The remainder of the team stood captivated and worried - interestingly, there wasn't a sound to be heard from anywhere else. It's as if those 4 guards were the only ones in the compound at the time of the escape.
"Where the fuck is Oiden? OIDEN! GET YOUR ASS UP HERE!" Astron demanded.
There wasn't a sound to be heard from Oiden or anyone else. Then, suddenly, in the far distance a strange, oscillating sound could be heard. It's volume increased steadily and it was then that Astron knew that backup was on the way. If the team didn't make a move now, they'd be committing suicide.
Astron clamored up the entry hatch inside the first fighter and began activating the launch systems. After preparing the lift engines and prepping all SS9 checks, he bolted back down and assisted the others with the other fighters.
About a thousand feet away, Oiden was down. His hands were at his side, both drenched in blood. His gaze at the ceiling of the annex in which he fell was one indicative of death. As the backup team of guards approached him, he closed his eyes and let his held tilt forward as life escaped his body.
"READY!! ACTIVATE LAUNCH SEQUENCES NOW! LET'S GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!" Astron bellowed through the intercom system shared by the team of Denstrolle fighters.
The energy lock had been disarmed and the propulsion cells roared to life. The bay doors eased open and the massive ships rolled smoothly out into the salty Ibitus 412N air.
Soon all 8 of their vessels were airborne and en route back home.
After a few minutes of panicked caution, Astron set his team's ships on autosequence and called a meeting of his peers through the virtulcomm.
"Folks, Oiden didn't make it. The rest of us, however, did. We've got about a day's worth of traveling ahead of us. I suggest you each relax and prepare yourselves for quite a welcome back at training quarter. You all did a fantastic job."
After fielding a few questions from the men pertaining to re-entry protocol, Astron clicked off the virtulcomm.
As he sat back in his chair, Astron pulled his journal from his satchel and began writing.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Here on Ibitus 412N (Part 8)
Astron Czissin closed his journal and went over to where his cohorts were plotting their escape route through the compound. They were using a rusted nail on a piece of trunk casing to draw out a rough map of what they knew of the layout, but it wasn't something they all were confident in.
"Are you sure this is right?" Astron asked L3 Ensign Hinze, one of the three other prisoners who matched Astron in both rank and battle experience.
"I'm not sure of shit, Czis'. I can tell you though that when we were brought in here I remember counting three rights, a left, another right and then two more lefts before we reached this holding cell" he finished.
"You remember all that?" Astron asked.
"I do. Some of us are more situationally aware than others, Czis'" came Hinze's reply.
Astron narrowed his eyes at his fellow soldier and smiled.
"You're lucky I like you" he said.
After Gladlock, Oiden, Hinze and Astron finished plotting their route, they all decided it was time to get some rest before they would make their break in about 6 hours. The timing was such that, ideally, the team of them would be en route to their Denstrolle fighters under the cover of Ibitus' only night-like phase in 4 days. The planet had a very peculiar solar cycle and that 'night', it was sure, would provide them the cover they'd likely need to get back to their ships safely.
A good few hours rest would do his team well. Astron looked on as his compatriots slept in their respective cots. He however, could do nothing but sit and wait. His mind was racing as he played out how the escape might go. At about the t-30 minute mark, Astron summoned his soldiers together for a debriefing.
"Alright guys, listen up," Astron said loudly to everyone in earshot, "We're getting the fuck out of here tonight and I need absolutely everyone's cooperation."
The femaliens were on their haunches in another corner, wolfing down fluff as they curiously looked on.
"Gladlock, Oiden, Hinze and Vereng are going to assist me in the actual override of the guard force here. Although not everyone is going to get to maul one of these guards, we all need to be prepared to defend ourselves."
The crowd was silent. 47 soldiers, all anxious and aware, hung on every one of Astron's words.
"We have devised this," Astron said, as he held in front of him the Fluff Crystal Vapor Gun that he and the others had devised the day prior.
"According to the limited intelligence we've gathered, this is going to serve as our ticket out of here. We don't know exactly how these beings respond to the smoke that comes off this crystal when our piss is poured onto it, but whatever happens, it completely incapacitates them. Hinze is going to feign injury and scream for a guard and Oiden is going to initiate the assault. When I give the signal, I need teams of 10 to follow Oiden, Hinze, Gladlock and Vereng on my six."
Not a noise was heard aside from Astron's voice. This was all critical information and each soldier needed to process every single word.
"After we've breached this holding cell we're counting on our status tokens to reveal the location of our fighters. Once we reach them, Vereng is going to disarm the bay door locks using the on-board material diffuser on Denstrolle 1117. Destrolles 1120, 22, 30 and 38 will standby until I receive the go signal from Vereng."
Astron looked around the room to ensure there were no questions.
"Now folks, this is very important. What I'm about to tell you goes contra to what you might have been taught in training quarter."
Astron's audience sat tranfixed.
"Should any of us fall to the hands of our captors, or should anyone become too injured to proceed with our mission here, we are to not offer assistance of any kind."
A few confused glances were exchanged amongst the team and some concerned chatter could be heard.
"Listen. We're getting out of here. If one of us becomes a burden on the rest, that could mean a recapturing for all of us. I repeat, do NOT offer assistance to the wounded and do NOT, under any circumstances, attempt to portage a dead body. I cannot emphasize this enough."
Silence returned to the group.
"Now. We have about 20 minutes to execution. Please take this time to gather only what you need from now until we reach our vessels. Am I 100% understood by everyone in this room?"
A booming "YES SIR!" caught the glance of a passing guard. Thankfully the species that inhabited Ibitus 412N didn't understand a word of English, otherwise the team's captors might have caught on to their plan.
The next few minutes passed quite quickly for everyone in that holding cell on Ibitus 412N. As the time drew nearer, the silence in their living space became almost painful. Finally, about three minutes prior to their planned time of escape, Astron brought his leading team of four close to the front of the cell.
The time had come. Escape was imminent.
Oiden gripped the Fluff Crystal Gun with trepidation. He had positioned the Zalhfarian pouch of piss just above the crystal and had the blade of the femalien hand weapon at the ready for puncturing.
Hinze began howling in fake pain.
Astron's heart rate escalated as a team of guards approached their cell.
"Are you sure this is right?" Astron asked L3 Ensign Hinze, one of the three other prisoners who matched Astron in both rank and battle experience.
"I'm not sure of shit, Czis'. I can tell you though that when we were brought in here I remember counting three rights, a left, another right and then two more lefts before we reached this holding cell" he finished.
"You remember all that?" Astron asked.
"I do. Some of us are more situationally aware than others, Czis'" came Hinze's reply.
Astron narrowed his eyes at his fellow soldier and smiled.
"You're lucky I like you" he said.
After Gladlock, Oiden, Hinze and Astron finished plotting their route, they all decided it was time to get some rest before they would make their break in about 6 hours. The timing was such that, ideally, the team of them would be en route to their Denstrolle fighters under the cover of Ibitus' only night-like phase in 4 days. The planet had a very peculiar solar cycle and that 'night', it was sure, would provide them the cover they'd likely need to get back to their ships safely.
A good few hours rest would do his team well. Astron looked on as his compatriots slept in their respective cots. He however, could do nothing but sit and wait. His mind was racing as he played out how the escape might go. At about the t-30 minute mark, Astron summoned his soldiers together for a debriefing.
"Alright guys, listen up," Astron said loudly to everyone in earshot, "We're getting the fuck out of here tonight and I need absolutely everyone's cooperation."
The femaliens were on their haunches in another corner, wolfing down fluff as they curiously looked on.
"Gladlock, Oiden, Hinze and Vereng are going to assist me in the actual override of the guard force here. Although not everyone is going to get to maul one of these guards, we all need to be prepared to defend ourselves."
The crowd was silent. 47 soldiers, all anxious and aware, hung on every one of Astron's words.
"We have devised this," Astron said, as he held in front of him the Fluff Crystal Vapor Gun that he and the others had devised the day prior.
"According to the limited intelligence we've gathered, this is going to serve as our ticket out of here. We don't know exactly how these beings respond to the smoke that comes off this crystal when our piss is poured onto it, but whatever happens, it completely incapacitates them. Hinze is going to feign injury and scream for a guard and Oiden is going to initiate the assault. When I give the signal, I need teams of 10 to follow Oiden, Hinze, Gladlock and Vereng on my six."
Not a noise was heard aside from Astron's voice. This was all critical information and each soldier needed to process every single word.
"After we've breached this holding cell we're counting on our status tokens to reveal the location of our fighters. Once we reach them, Vereng is going to disarm the bay door locks using the on-board material diffuser on Denstrolle 1117. Destrolles 1120, 22, 30 and 38 will standby until I receive the go signal from Vereng."
Astron looked around the room to ensure there were no questions.
"Now folks, this is very important. What I'm about to tell you goes contra to what you might have been taught in training quarter."
Astron's audience sat tranfixed.
"Should any of us fall to the hands of our captors, or should anyone become too injured to proceed with our mission here, we are to not offer assistance of any kind."
A few confused glances were exchanged amongst the team and some concerned chatter could be heard.
"Listen. We're getting out of here. If one of us becomes a burden on the rest, that could mean a recapturing for all of us. I repeat, do NOT offer assistance to the wounded and do NOT, under any circumstances, attempt to portage a dead body. I cannot emphasize this enough."
Silence returned to the group.
"Now. We have about 20 minutes to execution. Please take this time to gather only what you need from now until we reach our vessels. Am I 100% understood by everyone in this room?"
A booming "YES SIR!" caught the glance of a passing guard. Thankfully the species that inhabited Ibitus 412N didn't understand a word of English, otherwise the team's captors might have caught on to their plan.
The next few minutes passed quite quickly for everyone in that holding cell on Ibitus 412N. As the time drew nearer, the silence in their living space became almost painful. Finally, about three minutes prior to their planned time of escape, Astron brought his leading team of four close to the front of the cell.
The time had come. Escape was imminent.
Oiden gripped the Fluff Crystal Gun with trepidation. He had positioned the Zalhfarian pouch of piss just above the crystal and had the blade of the femalien hand weapon at the ready for puncturing.
Hinze began howling in fake pain.
Astron's heart rate escalated as a team of guards approached their cell.
Here on Ibitus 412N (Part 7)
The time is nearly upon us. Myself, Oiden, Gladlock and the three other L3's here with us have developed a plan that we intend to execute this evening. Right now it's 03:40 and the attitude in our cell has certainly shifted from one of monotony and growing hopelessness to one of intrepid excitement and for good damn reason.
This is what we have now:
1. Fluff crystal
2. A rolled urethanic tube with the end folded closed and a hole punched in it
3. About 3 ounces of Gladlock's piss contained in a Zalhfaran pouch, ready for rupturing
4. One set of hand weapons that were smuggled in by the leader of the femaliens. As of current she has not noticed it missing.
5. A lot of fucking balls
This is what we need:
1. More weapons, preferably ones that discharge energy rounds
2. A map of this compound
3. The location of our 6 Denstrolle fighters (this should be pretty easy to attain once we get out of this cell and use our status tokens to track the vessels' power signatures)
4. A miracle
The plan is to encase the fluff crystal inside the urethanic tube, so that the crystal rests at the base of the rolled cylinder. At the bottom, Oiden has punched a hole that he will blow through once Gladlock's piss has been introduced into the contraption. The end result is going to be a Fluff Crystal Gas Gun of sorts that will allow us to direct the current of whatever neuro-affective vapor starts burning off that crystal when we break the Zalhfaran pouch of piss onto it. The rupture will be initiated by a piercing using one of the hand blades I confiscated from the femalien leader. With some luck this should work. Again, there are many variables, including just what the effect of this gas will be on us humans should we allow any of it to get into our lungs. I guess we'll have to take that risk.
As I write this, Gladlock, Oiden and L3 Hinze are drawing a makeshift map on a piece of casing near their cots. I'm going to finish writing what I need to here and go see what they're working on. Maybe we can plot a route out that is consistent with what we remember about the layout of this place from the day we were all admitted here.
Oh, to be free again...after these long months in the chamber being kept as lab rats of a sort. It's been a long, long while and I do feel entitled to my own freedom as well as the freedom of my men. I've already promised them all Ya'ul Commendations should we make it back safe. All except for Klausen of course, who will be forever remembered as having played a key role in getting us the fuck out of here. If he hadn't been escorted out of our cell, we would never had the fortune of coming upon a piece of this crystal.
Time to wrap this up. My next entry will either be one written from back at training quarter, or these words you are now reading shall be my last.
Astron Czissin, Out.
This is what we have now:
1. Fluff crystal
2. A rolled urethanic tube with the end folded closed and a hole punched in it
3. About 3 ounces of Gladlock's piss contained in a Zalhfaran pouch, ready for rupturing
4. One set of hand weapons that were smuggled in by the leader of the femaliens. As of current she has not noticed it missing.
5. A lot of fucking balls
This is what we need:
1. More weapons, preferably ones that discharge energy rounds
2. A map of this compound
3. The location of our 6 Denstrolle fighters (this should be pretty easy to attain once we get out of this cell and use our status tokens to track the vessels' power signatures)
4. A miracle
The plan is to encase the fluff crystal inside the urethanic tube, so that the crystal rests at the base of the rolled cylinder. At the bottom, Oiden has punched a hole that he will blow through once Gladlock's piss has been introduced into the contraption. The end result is going to be a Fluff Crystal Gas Gun of sorts that will allow us to direct the current of whatever neuro-affective vapor starts burning off that crystal when we break the Zalhfaran pouch of piss onto it. The rupture will be initiated by a piercing using one of the hand blades I confiscated from the femalien leader. With some luck this should work. Again, there are many variables, including just what the effect of this gas will be on us humans should we allow any of it to get into our lungs. I guess we'll have to take that risk.
As I write this, Gladlock, Oiden and L3 Hinze are drawing a makeshift map on a piece of casing near their cots. I'm going to finish writing what I need to here and go see what they're working on. Maybe we can plot a route out that is consistent with what we remember about the layout of this place from the day we were all admitted here.
Oh, to be free again...after these long months in the chamber being kept as lab rats of a sort. It's been a long, long while and I do feel entitled to my own freedom as well as the freedom of my men. I've already promised them all Ya'ul Commendations should we make it back safe. All except for Klausen of course, who will be forever remembered as having played a key role in getting us the fuck out of here. If he hadn't been escorted out of our cell, we would never had the fortune of coming upon a piece of this crystal.
Time to wrap this up. My next entry will either be one written from back at training quarter, or these words you are now reading shall be my last.
Astron Czissin, Out.
Here on Ibitus 412N (Part 6)
A few developments have made our escape much, much more of a pressing imperative than ever before. First I will tell you of something that is beginning to happen to us, physiologically, and then, more importantly, an event that occurred which will most likely benefit us more than anything has yet.
The vast majority of us are experiencing a slight shift in the coloring of our vision. We're all noticing it. Our peripheral views are becoming tinted with blackish purple - the same color as the urine we've been providing for our captors these past months. L2 Ensign Oiden was the first to report it and after actually paying attention to the outskirts of my field of view, I notice it too. It's very subtle yet certainly present. This fluffy, sand like crap their feeding us...appears to be changing the way that our eyes are taking in light. There is no other explanation except perhaps that the new additions to our cell (the femaliens) have something to do with it. We doubt that, however, as they are in no contact with us and pretty much keep to themselves.
I did uncover the satchel I've been hiding for presentment to our cell-mate femaliens. The leader - as I guess you could caller her that, judging from the size and hue of her blue skin markings - looked at it quizzically at first but then, after taking it from me, opened it with the most peculiar means I've ever seen. She placed the satchel on one of the beds we use and laid both her wrists on it, forming an 'x'. A 'click' was heard and the satchel was opened. I have never seen anything like this in my life. It's as if the key to the 'lock' on the satchel were not a key at all. Rather, these femaliens have a way of modifying energy fields at will, and as this container was secured by such an energy field, it was an easy task for them to complete. After 'she' had opened the satchel for me, she turned around and went back to being with those of her race. Apparently she had no interest in what was in the satchel. We however, certainly did.
I lifted the triangular, metal-like flap from over the energy lock and as I did so, could hear a certain whirring noise grow markedly louder. From inside the container I pulled a fist-sized piece of exactly what it was we needed. That goddamned crystal. Sure enough, a piece of 'fluff crystal' was inside that satchel. It makes a machine-ish sort of sound all on it's own and since we've been studying it, we still cannot determine just where this noise is coming from. Frankly, I don't care what it looks, sounds, or smells like.
This crystal is going to be our ticket out of here.
Our next step is to set a date and time to attempt to get the hell out of here. We now have the means.
A few of us are wondering if the femaliens will join us. Personally I don't give a shit. They can stick around if they like or they can join us. It matters not. Me and my men will be gone in less than a week and I am 100% committed to this.
Once I firm up our plans I'll write again. After that, my next entry will be, hopefully, written from our bunker back at training quarter.
Astron Czissin, out.
The vast majority of us are experiencing a slight shift in the coloring of our vision. We're all noticing it. Our peripheral views are becoming tinted with blackish purple - the same color as the urine we've been providing for our captors these past months. L2 Ensign Oiden was the first to report it and after actually paying attention to the outskirts of my field of view, I notice it too. It's very subtle yet certainly present. This fluffy, sand like crap their feeding us...appears to be changing the way that our eyes are taking in light. There is no other explanation except perhaps that the new additions to our cell (the femaliens) have something to do with it. We doubt that, however, as they are in no contact with us and pretty much keep to themselves.
I did uncover the satchel I've been hiding for presentment to our cell-mate femaliens. The leader - as I guess you could caller her that, judging from the size and hue of her blue skin markings - looked at it quizzically at first but then, after taking it from me, opened it with the most peculiar means I've ever seen. She placed the satchel on one of the beds we use and laid both her wrists on it, forming an 'x'. A 'click' was heard and the satchel was opened. I have never seen anything like this in my life. It's as if the key to the 'lock' on the satchel were not a key at all. Rather, these femaliens have a way of modifying energy fields at will, and as this container was secured by such an energy field, it was an easy task for them to complete. After 'she' had opened the satchel for me, she turned around and went back to being with those of her race. Apparently she had no interest in what was in the satchel. We however, certainly did.
I lifted the triangular, metal-like flap from over the energy lock and as I did so, could hear a certain whirring noise grow markedly louder. From inside the container I pulled a fist-sized piece of exactly what it was we needed. That goddamned crystal. Sure enough, a piece of 'fluff crystal' was inside that satchel. It makes a machine-ish sort of sound all on it's own and since we've been studying it, we still cannot determine just where this noise is coming from. Frankly, I don't care what it looks, sounds, or smells like.
This crystal is going to be our ticket out of here.
Our next step is to set a date and time to attempt to get the hell out of here. We now have the means.
A few of us are wondering if the femaliens will join us. Personally I don't give a shit. They can stick around if they like or they can join us. It matters not. Me and my men will be gone in less than a week and I am 100% committed to this.
Once I firm up our plans I'll write again. After that, my next entry will be, hopefully, written from our bunker back at training quarter.
Astron Czissin, out.
Here on Ibitus 412N (Part 5)
Just when I think things couldn't get any more bizarre around here, another incident happens that totally shifts my thoughts about this alien race keeping us hostage.
It's not enough that we're being trapped here on this dry, cracked planet for the purposes of urine collection. Now we have found ourselves in the company of an entirely other slew of humanoid creatures, all of them being female. Earlier today, just after our 5th serving of 'fluff', our cell doors slid open to reveal a group of decidedly human-like female beings. They all seemed just as shocked and dismayed as we were the day of our processing, and they were quite orderly and contained as they were led into their new home: here, next to us, in this goddamned prison on Ibitus 412N. They're quite tall for 'women' (I can't really consider them 100% human because their legs have 4 pivoted joint locations unlike our 3 and their skin is pockmarked with large, bluish brandings) but they certainly resemble us far more than our captors do.
Of course we all tried making conversation but as could be expected, they don't speak English. They do speak, but it's a kind of tinny, high pitched oscillation of tones more so than any language we would recognize. One of them looks a lot like a woman I knew back at training quarter. Her name was Clista Fawe and I remember receiving news of her death not long ago.
This development has somewhat moralized my men. A few of them have already tried to physically touch our new cell mates and their come-ons have been met with sharp rejection. L2 Ensign Listah received a kick-like attack to his side after trying to grab the rear end of one of them. I guess I can't blame them for trying...they haven't been in the company of women for over a year. Alas, since we're not able to communicate with these creatures and since they don't really show any kind of value to us or our cause of leaving this place, it's safe to say their arrival is more of marginal benefit than anything else.
I have been growing increasingly curious as to the contents of the satchel that was left behind by the guards the other day, when Klausen was removed. By the way, he still hasn't returned and just yesterday we held a brief memorial for him, complete with eulogy given by his Denstrolle co-pilot, L2 Ensign Oiden. Speaking of our Denstrolle fighters...we know they're near us and in good working order. The status tokens we all keep with us provide us with constant diagnostic updates as to their conditioning systems and functionality. As of recent, this sign of hope is really what's been keeping us faithful in our eventual escape. According to our tokens, our ships are less than 3 kilometers away and are all in fantastic shape.
Unfortunately I don't have much else to report. These 'femaliens' (as they're now affectionately termed by us) are keeping to themselves and their cryptic chatter can be heard even now.
I think tomorrow I'm going to present the satchel to our new company, in hopes that they might instinctively know what to do with it. I know it's a long shot but I exhausting all possibilities of advancing toward a break out of here.
Astron Czissin, out.
It's not enough that we're being trapped here on this dry, cracked planet for the purposes of urine collection. Now we have found ourselves in the company of an entirely other slew of humanoid creatures, all of them being female. Earlier today, just after our 5th serving of 'fluff', our cell doors slid open to reveal a group of decidedly human-like female beings. They all seemed just as shocked and dismayed as we were the day of our processing, and they were quite orderly and contained as they were led into their new home: here, next to us, in this goddamned prison on Ibitus 412N. They're quite tall for 'women' (I can't really consider them 100% human because their legs have 4 pivoted joint locations unlike our 3 and their skin is pockmarked with large, bluish brandings) but they certainly resemble us far more than our captors do.
Of course we all tried making conversation but as could be expected, they don't speak English. They do speak, but it's a kind of tinny, high pitched oscillation of tones more so than any language we would recognize. One of them looks a lot like a woman I knew back at training quarter. Her name was Clista Fawe and I remember receiving news of her death not long ago.
This development has somewhat moralized my men. A few of them have already tried to physically touch our new cell mates and their come-ons have been met with sharp rejection. L2 Ensign Listah received a kick-like attack to his side after trying to grab the rear end of one of them. I guess I can't blame them for trying...they haven't been in the company of women for over a year. Alas, since we're not able to communicate with these creatures and since they don't really show any kind of value to us or our cause of leaving this place, it's safe to say their arrival is more of marginal benefit than anything else.
I have been growing increasingly curious as to the contents of the satchel that was left behind by the guards the other day, when Klausen was removed. By the way, he still hasn't returned and just yesterday we held a brief memorial for him, complete with eulogy given by his Denstrolle co-pilot, L2 Ensign Oiden. Speaking of our Denstrolle fighters...we know they're near us and in good working order. The status tokens we all keep with us provide us with constant diagnostic updates as to their conditioning systems and functionality. As of recent, this sign of hope is really what's been keeping us faithful in our eventual escape. According to our tokens, our ships are less than 3 kilometers away and are all in fantastic shape.
Unfortunately I don't have much else to report. These 'femaliens' (as they're now affectionately termed by us) are keeping to themselves and their cryptic chatter can be heard even now.
I think tomorrow I'm going to present the satchel to our new company, in hopes that they might instinctively know what to do with it. I know it's a long shot but I exhausting all possibilities of advancing toward a break out of here.
Astron Czissin, out.
Here on Ibitus 412N (Part 4)
Well, another one of us has made his way out of our cell. It looks like a few more might do the same, but not for good reason.
Before I finished writing last, L1 Ensign Klausen started complaining of feeling ill. At first he was coughing up thick wads of blood, phlegm and fluff mixture but soon it became tinged with bile, something I immediately identified - having had a bout with my gall bladder myself a long time ago. He was complaining of cramps and weakness while growing increasingly pale. Before too long he was passing in and out of consciousness and this is when I decided to flag down the guards.
It's interesting how this all happened when it did. When the guards came in to take Klausen away, the rest of us had a long, hard look at what they were carrying. This time there was no gurney sort of contraption used to take away the afflicted, no. It was a bag...a transparent one, with a kind of magnetic closure on it and a vent at the top to allow for breathing. We were motioned to stand clear of his body which was, at this point, lying lifeless on the metal floor of our room. We watched diligently as the ET's carefully placed Klausen into the bag, closed it, and together hoisted him up and out of sight.
It's been about 2 days since we last saw him and we're pretty sure he's not coming back. We can't think of a good reason why they'd keep a living one of us anywhere else but here, unless Klausen provided some sort of utility to them that the rest of us did not. Were they going to kill him? Is he already dead? Don't we fucking deserve to know what's happening to us? What if his sickness is a result of this substance we're being fed? I guess it doesn't make much sense to ask questions as we're not understood here anyway.
The count now is 47, excluding me. A few of the men are complaining of symptoms similar to what Klausen experienced but so far they haven't become a real threat. I'm quickly losing patience and am starting to wonder if we're going to ever get out of here.
On a positive note, one of the guards left a small satchel behind it after coming to take Klausen away. Since the guard hasn't returned to reclaim it, we're going to hide it from sight for now, until we can figure out how to get it open. It's sealed tightly by a kind of powered lock - there is a slight humming that can be heard inside it. We must find a way to break it open.
I'm going to get some sleep. Once things change, I'll write more.
Astron Czissin, out
Before I finished writing last, L1 Ensign Klausen started complaining of feeling ill. At first he was coughing up thick wads of blood, phlegm and fluff mixture but soon it became tinged with bile, something I immediately identified - having had a bout with my gall bladder myself a long time ago. He was complaining of cramps and weakness while growing increasingly pale. Before too long he was passing in and out of consciousness and this is when I decided to flag down the guards.
It's interesting how this all happened when it did. When the guards came in to take Klausen away, the rest of us had a long, hard look at what they were carrying. This time there was no gurney sort of contraption used to take away the afflicted, no. It was a bag...a transparent one, with a kind of magnetic closure on it and a vent at the top to allow for breathing. We were motioned to stand clear of his body which was, at this point, lying lifeless on the metal floor of our room. We watched diligently as the ET's carefully placed Klausen into the bag, closed it, and together hoisted him up and out of sight.
It's been about 2 days since we last saw him and we're pretty sure he's not coming back. We can't think of a good reason why they'd keep a living one of us anywhere else but here, unless Klausen provided some sort of utility to them that the rest of us did not. Were they going to kill him? Is he already dead? Don't we fucking deserve to know what's happening to us? What if his sickness is a result of this substance we're being fed? I guess it doesn't make much sense to ask questions as we're not understood here anyway.
The count now is 47, excluding me. A few of the men are complaining of symptoms similar to what Klausen experienced but so far they haven't become a real threat. I'm quickly losing patience and am starting to wonder if we're going to ever get out of here.
On a positive note, one of the guards left a small satchel behind it after coming to take Klausen away. Since the guard hasn't returned to reclaim it, we're going to hide it from sight for now, until we can figure out how to get it open. It's sealed tightly by a kind of powered lock - there is a slight humming that can be heard inside it. We must find a way to break it open.
I'm going to get some sleep. Once things change, I'll write more.
Astron Czissin, out
Here on Ibitus 412N (Part 3)
It's been a few days since I've written anything down. Today marks day number 89 since our capture. Because the cycle of 'daylight' on this planet is so screwy (they see about 3 days of light for every one of dark) we're using one of the L1 Ensign's timepieces to keep tabs. Since we were taken captive during a recon patrol on Colandron (part of the Saiin Cluster), we've been locked in this containment cell for the purpose of piss harvesting.
But, as I've written before, it's not really even piss that comes out anymore. It's like a mix cough syrup and cake batter and it's color and smell are both stomach-turning. Everything else about our bodies seems to be functioning perfectly. One on my team here even remarked that he feels better physically than he has in all his days growing up back on Earth.
Anyway. We're stuck here now and after a few discussions with some of the L3's I believe we have a sort of plan of exit. I don't want to get into too much detail because we still have yet to decide how we're going to get a few of the things we need to get out of here. The general idea is this: because of what Gladlock saw in his trip outside of our cell, we can safely assume that the vapor released by the combination of our piss and that strange crystal totally incapacitates these aliens, putting them in some state of seizure-like revelry. They lose cognizant control of their motor functions and just start flailing around, groping and spitting.
The thought is, if we can get a piece of that crystal somehow, and then lure a team of guards or two into our cell, drop some piss on the rock...booyah! Instant win over the enemy. Assuming this works, how we'll make our way out of this complex and back to our fighters is another concern altogether. A few of my men seem to think they have a general idea as to where our vessels are docked.
The other thing we haven't considered is what that vapor might do to us. Will it cause a similar reaction? Gladlock didn't report any sort of change in his equilibrium or senses and the vaporizing he saw was going on just a few yards away. Still, there are just too many variables to act on anything just yet. Another concern I have is procurement of some sort of weapon - all ours were confiscated upon processing. We do know every guard carries a baton-looking thing with barbs on the end.
Shit. One of my men is throwing up all over the place. This isn't pretty. I have to go.
Astron Czissin, out.
But, as I've written before, it's not really even piss that comes out anymore. It's like a mix cough syrup and cake batter and it's color and smell are both stomach-turning. Everything else about our bodies seems to be functioning perfectly. One on my team here even remarked that he feels better physically than he has in all his days growing up back on Earth.
Anyway. We're stuck here now and after a few discussions with some of the L3's I believe we have a sort of plan of exit. I don't want to get into too much detail because we still have yet to decide how we're going to get a few of the things we need to get out of here. The general idea is this: because of what Gladlock saw in his trip outside of our cell, we can safely assume that the vapor released by the combination of our piss and that strange crystal totally incapacitates these aliens, putting them in some state of seizure-like revelry. They lose cognizant control of their motor functions and just start flailing around, groping and spitting.
The thought is, if we can get a piece of that crystal somehow, and then lure a team of guards or two into our cell, drop some piss on the rock...booyah! Instant win over the enemy. Assuming this works, how we'll make our way out of this complex and back to our fighters is another concern altogether. A few of my men seem to think they have a general idea as to where our vessels are docked.
The other thing we haven't considered is what that vapor might do to us. Will it cause a similar reaction? Gladlock didn't report any sort of change in his equilibrium or senses and the vaporizing he saw was going on just a few yards away. Still, there are just too many variables to act on anything just yet. Another concern I have is procurement of some sort of weapon - all ours were confiscated upon processing. We do know every guard carries a baton-looking thing with barbs on the end.
Shit. One of my men is throwing up all over the place. This isn't pretty. I have to go.
Astron Czissin, out.
Here on Ibitus 412N (Part 2)
It seems that boredom has gotten the best of us. Or at least, one of us.
L2 Group Ensign Gladlock decided he wanted to know just what this alien race wanted with our fluid waste (they've been harvesting our piss for weeks now, and all the while we've been kept quite healthy). He talked one of his buddies from training quarter into breaking one of his fingers, so that he might be transported to another part of the containment complex for medical assistance.
This of course, was assuming that our captors knew anything of human anatomy or for that matter true medical care.
Apparently it worked. After Gladlock convinced his one of his subordinates to snap his pinky finger 'like a graphite stick', the ensuing cry of pain (yes, it was quite authentic, I'd say) brought one of the guards straight to our holding cell. Gladlock was given the once over by the ET guard and was set on a long-ish gurney sort of mechanism on which he was rolled out of our view.
About 20 minutes went by before we saw him again. Amazingly, he had returned to us with his finger in perfect shape, bone healed and everything. There weren't even any calcium deposits that we could feel through his skin, indicating some sort of synthetic healing of his human bone.
After he was returned to us, we sat him down to hear his story about what the other annexes of this prison were like.
"I can't believe what I just saw," were his first words to us.
"First I was brought to a sort of elevator that was shaped like a Tarlan fighter but ultra-thin. It was like, powered by light or something. Very strange. Anyway, after a trip on that thing I was rolled through a a few partitions where I saw exactly what these things...these...creatures...are doing with our shit."
Of course, by shit he meant the purplish, sludgy, stinky piss our captors have been clamoring for during our stay here.
"At one point I was able to see through a glass-net sort of wall into a chamber where there must have been at least 50 of these ET's all huddled around a huge kind of crystal. It must have been at least 8 feet tall with rounded edges jutting out in all directions. Very bizarre, man."
Gladlock was flexing his hand while he spoke, still in amazement of how quickly they had repaired his finger.
"Anyway - one of them approached the crystal with a container of our shit and started pouring it on top. Then they all just stood there, completely still just like statues. Like they were waiting for something."
I knew everything he was saying was genuine. The size of his eyes as he talked was testament to this.
"As our piss came down on the crystal it started melting it. The fumes coming from it began to fill that room and it was then that the ET's just started going fucking BONKERS! I mean, they were shaking, flailing, smacking each other, I think I even saw a few fucking each other."
We were all transfixed on his story at this point.
"I didn't get to see anything else. The put my hand under this sort of lamp device which instantly reset and healed everything. I swear guys, the technology in this place is un-fucking-real."
Someone in the back announced, "Fuck man, I'm breaking my wrist. I wanna see that shit."
I told him he wasn't breaking anything and that we're going to find a way out of here. Exactly how that's to be done is my job to come up with but something has to give. I'll not have 48 of my best soldiers kept here just to piss in cups for some fucked up alien race.
Until my next entry.
Astron, out.
L2 Group Ensign Gladlock decided he wanted to know just what this alien race wanted with our fluid waste (they've been harvesting our piss for weeks now, and all the while we've been kept quite healthy). He talked one of his buddies from training quarter into breaking one of his fingers, so that he might be transported to another part of the containment complex for medical assistance.
This of course, was assuming that our captors knew anything of human anatomy or for that matter true medical care.
Apparently it worked. After Gladlock convinced his one of his subordinates to snap his pinky finger 'like a graphite stick', the ensuing cry of pain (yes, it was quite authentic, I'd say) brought one of the guards straight to our holding cell. Gladlock was given the once over by the ET guard and was set on a long-ish gurney sort of mechanism on which he was rolled out of our view.
About 20 minutes went by before we saw him again. Amazingly, he had returned to us with his finger in perfect shape, bone healed and everything. There weren't even any calcium deposits that we could feel through his skin, indicating some sort of synthetic healing of his human bone.
After he was returned to us, we sat him down to hear his story about what the other annexes of this prison were like.
"I can't believe what I just saw," were his first words to us.
"First I was brought to a sort of elevator that was shaped like a Tarlan fighter but ultra-thin. It was like, powered by light or something. Very strange. Anyway, after a trip on that thing I was rolled through a a few partitions where I saw exactly what these things...these...creatures...are doing with our shit."
Of course, by shit he meant the purplish, sludgy, stinky piss our captors have been clamoring for during our stay here.
"At one point I was able to see through a glass-net sort of wall into a chamber where there must have been at least 50 of these ET's all huddled around a huge kind of crystal. It must have been at least 8 feet tall with rounded edges jutting out in all directions. Very bizarre, man."
Gladlock was flexing his hand while he spoke, still in amazement of how quickly they had repaired his finger.
"Anyway - one of them approached the crystal with a container of our shit and started pouring it on top. Then they all just stood there, completely still just like statues. Like they were waiting for something."
I knew everything he was saying was genuine. The size of his eyes as he talked was testament to this.
"As our piss came down on the crystal it started melting it. The fumes coming from it began to fill that room and it was then that the ET's just started going fucking BONKERS! I mean, they were shaking, flailing, smacking each other, I think I even saw a few fucking each other."
We were all transfixed on his story at this point.
"I didn't get to see anything else. The put my hand under this sort of lamp device which instantly reset and healed everything. I swear guys, the technology in this place is un-fucking-real."
Someone in the back announced, "Fuck man, I'm breaking my wrist. I wanna see that shit."
I told him he wasn't breaking anything and that we're going to find a way out of here. Exactly how that's to be done is my job to come up with but something has to give. I'll not have 48 of my best soldiers kept here just to piss in cups for some fucked up alien race.
Until my next entry.
Astron, out.
Here on Ibitus 412N (Part 1)
The urine comes out of us now like a thick, syrupy concoction one might find at the PX for the purpose of alleviating a bad cough or something.
When we piss it's not even like it used to be. It's more forced and it actually takes a lot of stomach muscle to get our fluid waste to leave our bodies. But that's how they want it. Evidently, and for reasons beyond us, this...solution...coming out of our dicks is like gold to them. Interestingly, it doesn't even resemble gold or even yellow as it once did. It's a purplish, tarry kind of color and my god does it smell. I'd liken the smell to a cross between rubber cement and menthol cigarettes. It's very strange.
They feed us 'the powder' every hour on the hour. The stuff actually tastes kind of good, like the meal substitute pastes you can get on Zalhfar (though not exactly). Perhaps they engineered it so it would be easy for us to like? Who knows. What's most interesting about what they're feeding us is that it doubles as hydration. The moment the powder (also called 'fluff' by some of the others) hits the tongue, it kind of multiplies itself into about four times its volume in fluid. For instance, it only takes about a teaspoon of fluff to get a whole mouthful of watery sustenance. And it goes down easy.
We don't feel hungry. It's the most bizarre situation I could have ever expected to find myself and my men in. Here we are, isolated and contained on Ibitus 412N and we're basically being used as catalysts for some kind of chemical conversion of fluff to, what we would call, piss.
And boy, do they cherish every drop. They monitor us so closely that if even a drop of our urine gets on our hands or on a wall of this cell, it's instantly contained and somehow added to the accumulated stash. We imagine they've got hundreds of gallons of it by now, the bastards. I mean, what kind of alien race kidnaps humans and contains them for the sole purpose of collecting their pee?
It's a good thing we were able to keep our personal effects during our processing. Though we're undoubtedly prisoners, we're at least being granted some of the comforts of home like this tablet I'm writing on and the keepsakes my team likes to have around. One of them even managed to smuggle in a few vials of High Serum. We've been having a good time with that, but only occasionally. We don't know how long we're going to be here and my distress beacons aren't being returned.
I'm feeling the urge to pass some of this shit through again so I'm going to have to wrap this up.
I'll write more when I can.
Astron, out.
When we piss it's not even like it used to be. It's more forced and it actually takes a lot of stomach muscle to get our fluid waste to leave our bodies. But that's how they want it. Evidently, and for reasons beyond us, this...solution...coming out of our dicks is like gold to them. Interestingly, it doesn't even resemble gold or even yellow as it once did. It's a purplish, tarry kind of color and my god does it smell. I'd liken the smell to a cross between rubber cement and menthol cigarettes. It's very strange.
They feed us 'the powder' every hour on the hour. The stuff actually tastes kind of good, like the meal substitute pastes you can get on Zalhfar (though not exactly). Perhaps they engineered it so it would be easy for us to like? Who knows. What's most interesting about what they're feeding us is that it doubles as hydration. The moment the powder (also called 'fluff' by some of the others) hits the tongue, it kind of multiplies itself into about four times its volume in fluid. For instance, it only takes about a teaspoon of fluff to get a whole mouthful of watery sustenance. And it goes down easy.
We don't feel hungry. It's the most bizarre situation I could have ever expected to find myself and my men in. Here we are, isolated and contained on Ibitus 412N and we're basically being used as catalysts for some kind of chemical conversion of fluff to, what we would call, piss.
And boy, do they cherish every drop. They monitor us so closely that if even a drop of our urine gets on our hands or on a wall of this cell, it's instantly contained and somehow added to the accumulated stash. We imagine they've got hundreds of gallons of it by now, the bastards. I mean, what kind of alien race kidnaps humans and contains them for the sole purpose of collecting their pee?
It's a good thing we were able to keep our personal effects during our processing. Though we're undoubtedly prisoners, we're at least being granted some of the comforts of home like this tablet I'm writing on and the keepsakes my team likes to have around. One of them even managed to smuggle in a few vials of High Serum. We've been having a good time with that, but only occasionally. We don't know how long we're going to be here and my distress beacons aren't being returned.
I'm feeling the urge to pass some of this shit through again so I'm going to have to wrap this up.
I'll write more when I can.
Astron, out.
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