Defined by these Stars

The Execution

During the following few hours, somehow I fell asleep—though I knew not when—as I awoke abruptly to the sound of the steel door opening. My side was frozen stiff, but I managed to sit upright as a now male guard neared me, holding aloft a pair of grimy handcuffs.

I attempted to stand, but the feeling in my lower half had not since returned, and the guard was forced to continuously pull me upward for a few minutes until my legs could remain somewhat supported.

He cuffed my wrists, and grabbed me by them, dragging me forward.

I had never seen the hallways which lead into and out of my cell, as I had woken up inside after I blacked out from a blow to the head. Yet, after all of the mystery surrounding them, the reality was considerably disappointing. The interior was outlined by thin pieces of rusted steel, which barely featured anyone's reflections, so I was unable to examine my presumably repulsive features. There were guards set periodically outside thick, bolted doors, their hands remaining near their weaponry as I passed. I tried not to notice them, not giving them the satisfaction of my inferiority. As I turned each corner, the hallways maintained the same appearance, so after the fifteen minutes we were walking, I merely stared at the back of the alien's head—which I quickly learned did not happen to be of much interest either.

Finally, after perhaps half an hour of walking, we reached a set of double doors. The guard turned around to me.

"When we get outside, do not try anything tricky. Don't encourage your people, don't try to escape, and don't try to fight us. You won't be able to, and the consequences will all be the same: you won't end up getting such a peaceful death," he said perfectly, absent of any pauses as if he had rehearsed this a myriad times prior. I nodded.

He turned around and revealed a remote-like device to which he held up to a scanner by the door, and with a satisfying click, it swung open, exposing the first slice of sunlight I had seen in two months. The guard tugged me forward and a moment later, I was standing in the warm sunlight—and it burned. I shut my eyes closed and begged for the pain to dissipate as it crawled into my retinas. I collapsed to the ground but barely felt the ground fall beneath me as I clasped at my eyes.

From behind me, the guard released a sigh of vexation, yet somehow allowed for me to let my eyes adjust to the glaring sunlight. After a few moments, I came to the conclusion the sun would no longer sear my eyes, and my guard jerked me backward; I grudgingly trudged onward until the wooden platform came into full view, and my heart dropped into my stomach. I was going to die. I was going to die.

I profess, the idea had not settled in when I was back inside the cell in my half-lucid state or even in the halls.

"Keep moving, you bugger." I suddenly noticed I had indeed stopped moving. I proceeded to move forward, trying to breathe normally. I would not look pathetic. I would not. I would not look pathetic. Oh, I would. What's the point. What's the damn point.

Arriving closer to the platform, I noticed the wood was dark in color and was sturdy in its foundation as if the aliens had intended to keep the platform there forever. They probably would.

I was then able to catch a glimpse of the people existing beyond the platform, which I noticed with both relief and horror were my people. For the first time, the people I was so familiar with were looking back at me—not the parasites whom arrived to the planet to merely exist. However, my people would exist for not much longer, I knew. The platform was used before and will be in use until the rest of my race was gone. And they would not escape. Farther beyond them stood tall concrete walls with spikes lining the edges, mocking anyone who dared to risk their life fleeing away. My heart sank again at the thought of my race being reduced to livestock, awaiting their turn for eternal sleep.

I reached the stairs. I closed my eyes and felt my traitorous feet climb the steps. As I reached the top, I opened my eyes to gaze upon one of the last groups of my people. And they stared back at me, waiting for me to lead yet another revolution, saving them and removing all the recent atrocities which ravaged the planet. My mouth was dry.

I took my place at the marked spot on the platform, and glanced to my left to see the executioner with his taser gun (which apparently was what it was called). My guard took his place beside me and addressed his audience.

"At six PM, Jaklar will be killed by taser gun," he announced. "And to some of you, Jaklar may have been a leader, but know this people of Pazar: he will only be leading your deaths to an afterlife. We humans-"

"DEFEAT THE HUMANS!" I screamed, "THE PARASITES OF OUR PLANET. KILL THEM ALL BEFORE-"

But I was cut off by a painful tingling emanating from the base of my skull. The last thing I felt was the wood scrape against my cheek as I hit the ground.