Chapter 1

Waking up felt completely ... wrong. I don't know of any other way to better explain it.

Throughout my long and rather eventful life, I've been sedated, drugged up, knocked out cold and blackout drunk more times than I can ever hope to remember, let alone count, under a stunningly diverse assortment of situations. I had never felt anything quite like this before though. It felt as if my thoughts and senses were actively being dulled by some outside force, keeping me asleep and sapping my strength. Fighting it off even a little, for but a few moments, took just about everything that I had and hurt my head like a son of a bitch.

It would have been so much easier to just let go – to let myself fall back into blissful, ignorant unconsciousness. But I wouldn't of course.

I'm just too damn stubborn for that.

I could still remember and reason just well enough to realize that something very strange was going on. Don't ask me how I could possibly tell, but it felt as if I had been attacked and that I had went down way too easily. And that little fact pissed me off royally.

Fuelled by my anger and indignation at being blindsided outside of my own home, I slowly, but steadily clawed my way back towards full awareness.

My sense of touch was the first to gradually come back into focus. I felt myself lying down, flat on my back. The surface that I was on was firmer than a mattress, but definitely much softer than being on the bare ground. For some reason, I also seemed to be buck naked. I tried to move my fingers and toes, but I don't believe that I managed to.

I admit that that was really worrisome. Being attacked and abducted was one thing - I would deal with it and eventually get even, but not being able to actually do anything about it honestly scared me.

Despite having been knocked out somehow by persons unknown, most likely taken to an unknown location, and not able to move, I was feeling surprisingly warm and comfortable. Besides the headache, there wasn't even any pain.

My hearing came back next. People were speaking nearby. At first it was very faint and muffled, seeming to come from far away, but it gradually became louder and clearer. The problem was that they didn't appear to be speaking English, or any other language that I knew, or had even heard before, for that matter. There were three distinct voices talking ... no, arguing with each other. Two sounded small, timid even with a pleasant almost sing-song quality to it. Though I couldn't understand what was being said, I had no problem understanding the fear and desperation in their almost sing-song tones. The last was louder, laced with anger and menace. Hoarse and a bit guttural, it almost sounded like an animal had somehow learned to speak.

I strained to move, or even pry open my eyes as the argument became more and more hostile, but to no avail.

The bestial voice grew louder, almost screaming and I could feel the unfettered hostility dripping off it. The other voices became faster and higher pitched - a sure sign of panic. Then there were the sound of heavy blows landing on flesh. There was a soft snap-click, a humm followed closely by a sizzling noise. Then there were screams, cries and whimpers of pain.

Someone was doling out a severe beating.

And that was all that I could take. No matter how much I would have liked to get up and do something for myself and whoever was getting his ass handed to him, the pain in my head and the sheer mental strain of climbing my way towards full consciousness was just too much.

Quickly, I felt myself sink back down into oblivion. Just before I did, though, I sensed one last thing ... the unmistakable smell of burnt hair and flesh.

The last thing that I could remember, I was relaxing on a lawn chair outside my brand new Airstream trailer, hitched behind my new second-hand ford pickup, calmly watching and appreciating the star-filled night sky. I was camped out near the Arches National Park in Utah, my stomach filled with spicy homemade chili, and a cold beer in my hand, my third of the night.

Some time ago I had been discharged from the US Marine Corps, at the rank of Gunnery Sergeant, after just under thirty years of faithful, diligent service. It wasn't exactly voluntary – I was pretty seriously wounded on deployment overseas and was medically discharged after recovering. I was past the big "four-oh", well on my way to fifty, and had absolutely no fucking idea what to do with the rest of my life, so for now I was just going to sit back and relax a while. With enough of a nest egg to last a couple of years, maybe up to a decade if I was really careful and stingy, I was just wandering around, seeing the country while I struggled to figure out just what the hell I wanted to do.

'Maybe I should get a dog. I haven't had one since I was a little kid. I'd sure appreciate the company.' I idly thought to myself.

'On the other hand, maybe I should concentrate on dating seriously.' I had gone out some and had my fair share of one-night stands over the last couple of years, but nothing really serious.

'Maybe it's time to try for a lasting relationship based on mutual love and respect ... and killer legs, with an ass that won't quit. A toned and tanned blonde with firm handful-sized breasts... '

OK, so it had actually been more than a few months since the last time I've been laid.

Thinking better about it, I nixed the whole "committed relationship" thing. For a while at least. Having been burned by divorce twice, I honestly didn't think that I was quite up to dealing with a woman in my life full time. Now that I was completely commitment free, I was going to do my damnedest to enjoy the single life.

I may not be a spring chicken anymore, with my black hair graying at the temples and more than a few newfound wrinkles on my tanned face, but I still keep myself in tip top shape and I wasn't that half bad looking. Besides, I knew from past experiences that lots of hot young things go for the ruggedly handsome and fit older guy.

Ahh, thank the Good Lord for girls with daddy issues...

If push came to shove, I wasn't above contracting some well paid professionals for some good old fashioned fun either. I'd done it before, here in the states and abroad.

'If I want real, lasting companionship, I'm better off sticking with the dog. It would probably end up being less stressful and much cheaper.'

Of course, all of this musing on what I was going to do with my life just served to distract me from my extreme displeasure at being discharged. I was pissed off and confused as hell to be completely honest. I had believed that I would be a Marine until I died or was physically forced into retirement. Being medically discharged just felt like ... I had failed somehow.

I know that it's not logical, but it's how I felt God dammit.

Plus, I didn't really know how to live as a civilian anymore and I certainly didn't have any other marketable skills besides being a soldier. Getting a normal nine to five job really didn't appeal to me and I seriously doubted that, even if I could get a halfway decent one, I would be willing or able to stick with it for that long. The boredom would certainly kill me, or at least force me to kill everybody that just happened to be around me.

Not exactly something you want to admit in an interview or put on your résumé.

On the other hand, I'd seen some of the broken down and drunken train wrecks some discharged soldiers had turned into, trying to live a civilian life. I had absolutely no intentions of following in their footsteps.

I did have a few acquaintances in the private security sector and a good friend working with several civilian police departments. Both paid skilled individuals reasonably well.

'Maybe I can make some calls and test the waters -'

And that's when my train of thought was interrupted by a blinding light from above.

"Mister Ford. Mister Michael Ford, please wake up sir."

I was coming out of it again and this time there was no resistance. Consciousness came quickly, easily and without pain.

It felt as if I was still in the same place, but of course I couldn't be sure, just as I couldn't be sure of how much time had passed. At least I wasn't completely exposed anymore, as I could feel a soft and light sheet covering me from my chest down. Flexing my limbs slightly, I could tell that I wasn't restrained, so that was a good sign.

"Please Mister Ford." The strangely accented voice kept whispering insistently and pleadingly at me.

I cracked my eyes openly slowly, letting them to adapt to the bright light overhead. There was a human-sized shape leaning slightly over my right side. As my sight adapted and came back into focus, more and more details became readily apparent.

Whatever the shape was, it certainly wasn't human.

A large dark nose dominated the center of its face, and its mouth and eyes seemed a bit too small, especially compared to the size of its ears, riding high on the sides of its head. Its entire body, at least what I could see of it, was covered in short, fine layer of dark grey and brown fur.

It was also clearly wounded, with a swollen and busted lip, the surrounding fur stained with dried red blood, and the area around one of its eyes was beginning to darken and swell shut. It was clothed in what seemed to be a dark green flight-suit, covered in numerous pockets, a few unfamiliar insignias and indecipherable writing. It too had taken its fair share of abuse, being quite worn, torn and bearing several stains.

'A uniform of some sort, ' I guessed, trying desperately to make sense of what I was seeing.

I didn't have much success.

"You're not human," I managed to rasp out. I swallowed, desperately trying to rehydrate my mouth.

"No, I'm not." It said in a decidedly male, if a bit high-pitched voice, and then sighed in evident relief. "My name is Feng Vath and I am what you would call an extraterrestrial."

In a flash of insight, I realized that instead of some sort of chimp, several million years ago his ancient ancestor was most likely an animal resembling a koala bear. In fact, once I mentally decided that this was most probably true, his looks and mere existence were immediately much easier to accept.

We Marines excel at adapting to whatever situation we might come across, but I admit that this one was really stretching my ability to do so.

Silence followed for several moments as we simply looked at each other.

"So ... is this how you usually introduce yourself to people, Feng Vath? Because if it is, you really have a thing or two to learn about manners and common courtesy."

I seemed to be accepting this whole situation a lot better than I expected – there was confusion and worry, but no actual fear. I tried to summon up some burning anger and righteous indignation at having been abducted, but all I managed was some luke-warm irritation.

"You've done something to me haven't you? I'm not reacting as I should."

"Yes, we have. I'm sorry." And it actually looked like he was. He might not have been human, but I could clearly see the embarrassment on his face and in his posture.

There was something else there also. Something that I had seen before in war - desperation stemming from fear.

"It was unfortunately necessary. Please do not worry, the effects should pass shortly."

I started to sit up, but he placed a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

"No, don't move yet. Wait a few moments for your strength and coordination to return fully." I got a good look at his hands then – he had five digits like me, but the first two opposed the remaining three, giving him the appearance of having three fingers and two thumbs.

'Tree climbers, ' a part of my mind reasoned.

He then pressed something on the side of the bed and I felt it silently and smoothly shift to put me into a comfortable reclining position. I was appreciative, seeing as I felt weak as a kitten, but of course, I didn't let it show. I had been taken against my will, after all – was now a prisoner most likely. Maybe even some sort of guinea-pig meant for experimentation. Of course, that never ended particularly well for the guinea-pig.

I had to stay on guard, assess the situation and find out what the hell was going on. Only when I recovered enough, would I act and then these aliens would see what messing with a United States Marine gets them.

If he took even one step toward me with an anal probe, I'd rip his arboreal arm off and beat him to death with it.

I took a moment to take in my surroundings. The room was shaped like a large kidney, no right angles or corners at all, with the walls curving gently into the ceilings and floors. Even the couple of doors I could see were circular in shape. Instead of a few individual sources, the light seemed to emanate evenly from the entire ceiling. A large number of unidentifiable, but obviously high-tech, equipment, material and read-outs made the large room feel much smaller. They were all arranged around nine beds, including the one that I now occupied. All of the surfaces were of a sterile white, the only color being the occasional light blue and green of the beds, a veritable rainbow of lights from several screen readouts, and the cold steel gray of the equipment.

Though the place had a decidedly alien design and there was no smell of antiseptic in the air, I certainly recognized it as a hospital of some kind.

A few cots away I saw one of Feng Vath's people, seemingly unconscious and in bad shape – much worse off than him at least. Its visible wounds were covered in what looked like a thin layer of hardened blue gel and large swaths of its fur was missing. Burned away, I realized thanks to the very slight smell still lingering in the air.

That confused and seriously worried me.

I understandably had a million questions racing through my mind. Where the hell could I start?

"My mind's a bit on overdrive right now. Why don't you just explain what you're doing here and what you want from me?"

"Very well. We are Marsubarans," Feng Vath said, gesturing to himself and his unconscious companion. His voice had taken on a tone that I was pretty familiar with – that of a professional in his field rattling off a well prepared and rehearsed speech. "We are part of a group of travelers – mostly scientists and researchers - from a star-system dozens of thousands of your light-years away.

"We happened to discover your solar system while on a long term voyage of exploration and colonization. Understand that finding a civilization at your technological level is quite rare – at the very technological and social cusp of beginning to colonize your solar system." He shrugged at seeing my confused expression. "After reaching a certain population size and technological development, civilizations tend to have serious difficulties in keeping from culturally backsliding or outright self-destructing. The vast majority of advanced pre-FTL civilizations encountered are either just entering into their information age, at best, or well into colonizing their own and nearby solar systems.

"In order to fully study and document humanity, we decided to establish a permanent station at a nearby binary star system, known to you as Alpha Centauri. Ever since then, we have been discretely observing and recording everything we could about your species, your history and your numerous, diverse cultures. In a few generations, once you established a permanent off-world foothold in your solar system, we hoped to make tentative first contact with humanity."