His whole body hurt. Pain branched through him like splinters of ice following the path of his veins and pulsing with every beat of his heart.
It felt like he was on fire.
Cold fire.
Or fire that was so hot or cold that his body couldn't tell the difference anymore, but to him it felt col. Adam knew what was happening to him, despite the haze and confusion every time he opened his eyes, inside his head he knew perfectly what was going on.
Though the voices outside were distant, and his body seemed to be separated from him by a thousand miles, he knew where he was and what was happening.
He was sick.
Though he didn't feel sick.
That might have seemed odd to explain, but he felt more trapped than anything else, trapped and held captive inside his own head as the enemy attempted to break him down. He could feel it inside him, attempting to get inside his head, feed on his very soul.
But there was some hope.
At least he thought.
While this thing could ravage his body all it wanted, there was a certain sense that it couldn't get to his mind so easily, though it was trying, and that in a way was the reason Adam felt it was less a sickness and more a captivity.
Torture.
He had had the flue before, been so sick that his entire body rebelled and he wanted to crawl through the floor and into oblivion, but that hadn't bee personal. This was personal, and it was about him.
It was trying to break him down, and it knew where he was weak.
This wasn't sickness at all, it was capture, captivity, and compliance, just inside his own body.
Fine
If that's how it wanted to play, he would play .
What they didn't know is that Adam had been trained for this sort of thing.
No one might have assumed it but the TransSpace Ariel combative academy had had one final unit in their schooling, a unit that was top secret, heavily classified, and strategically concealed from UN human rights groups, not that it wasn't heavily regulated, controlled and monitored at all times for violations, but there were certain factors of the government who would throw a hissy fit if they knew what had been going on.
If they knew what nineteen-year-old Adam had been put through.
It was an archaic practice, borrowed from military operations two thousand years in the past, but military research indicated had some benefit in helping students survive the worst possible situations.
Capture.
And torture
Behind enemy lines
***
Adam Vir lay prone in the tall grass with his head cocked to one side. All around him the forest was alive with the sounds of birds and animals. Running water trickled somewhere distant, and the long uncut grasses filled his nose with the heady scent of summer.
A summer that was sweltering.
Inside his flight suit, he was sweating like a pig.
He had been airdropped in about five clicks north of this position, with everything he would have if he was ejected from a compromised jet, and an instructor provided safe word if things were to go wrong.
The class had giggled at the use of "safe word" one recruit whispering that it was "Kinky." Too bad for them their MTI Sgt Kimball had overheard that comment, and pointed out that there was nothing kinky about being tied up and locked in a box.
Unfortunately for the Sgt there was everything kinky about that, and it was only his iron clad glair that stopped the rest of the class from giggling even more.
Adam had been blushing.
But now that he was here, in the forest, on the run, he had to agree with Instructor Kimball, there was nothing kinky going on here.
This was the scenario.
His plane had been catastrophically hit in a midair battle. He had managed to shoot down the enemy fighter, but his plane was going down. He had time to eject from his crashing plane and parachute to safety, but now he was behind enemy lines, and the enemy knew he was here, they knew his general location and they were looking for him.
Using his orienteering and overland navigation skills, he was to make it to the safe zone without getting captured.
For two days he had been on the run, and twice he had almost been captured. He could hear their voices raised as they ran through the bushes after him, but managed to escape twice, once by accident after tripping down a hillside, and the second by crossing a river and climbing a rocky cliff face to hide in a small cave, during that time he had used his survival knowledge and a handheld device to determine the edible nature of food, while using the filter straw (concealed in the emergency pack sewn into his flight suit) to drink from any body of water he felt like.
All in all he wasn't doing too bad.
At least he thought so anyway, and the area had plenty of nice landmarks to follow to his preferred location.
He was almost sure he was going to make it out alive.
That was.
Until he heard the barking of dogs.
Oh Shit!
Adam knew about dogs, and he knew that it was almost impossible to fool the nose of a good one. Crossing a river was really your only option to throw off the scent, but sometimes even that didn't work. And all of those myths about covering ourself in mud or animal shit or something else was a complete lie. The stink of human would still be very obvious, and he had had two days to fester in his own sweat.
There was no way a dog wouldn't find him.
So he booked it towards the river.
There was no use in trying to do anything else, but the dogs were getting closer.
He plowed through the river sending up droplets of water and careened into the forest, ever now and again a hand would reach up to touch the Velcro patch on the front of his uniform.
His mother had made it for him, and the instructors had reluctantly allowed them to personalize for some degree of a moral boost.
The way the Sgt had looked at him when he realized he was wearing a cartoon Marvin the Martian was priceless.
They had made fun of him for it, but he didn't much mind.
What he did mind was the baying of the dogs hot on his heels.
He zigzagged across the river to confuse the animals, then hurried up its shallow center for a ways before cutting onto the opposite bank and jumping into the woods. His legs and boots were heavy with collected water, and he could already feel blisters beginning to form. He definitely wished Scotty would beam him up right now.
If only he did have an angry Scotsman waiting in the wings with a interplanetary ship and an emotionless Vulcan to rescue him from this situation.
He tripped over a root and cursed himself
Now was really NOT the time to be daydreaming, dumbass.
Though his hands throbbed with the pain of his fall, he rolled onto his side and below a rotting log.
This was as good a hiding place as any, If the dogs bypassed the river, they were going to find him, there was no doubt about that.
He heard them cross the river.
Shit.
He closed his eyes and pressed his face into the dirt.
Damn
Where they going to sick the dogs on him? He kept his eyes closed as he listened to them coming through the trees, boots thudding voices shouting. He couldn't tell what language they were speaking, some of it seemed to be in English, maybe something in Spanish, and Russian? He couldn't be sure, it seemed as if they were just speaking everything all at once.
And then, the dogs passed him roaring up the ridge barking and yowling.
That was.
Strange.
Adam lifted his head a little to peer through the bushes.
How could they have missed him, it didn't seem likely.
And that's when the cold barrel of the gun pressed into the back of his neck just in the skin behind his ear.
And that was when all hell broke loose.
Adam was roughly shoved to the dirt with gun barrels pointed at his head, hostiles erupted from the bushes shouting and screaming at him where he lay on the ground, bodies crowded around him, and he was roughly pinned to the ground face held into the dirt as his hands were retrieved and cuffed. If this was a training exercise, it sure didn't feel like it.
He was hauled upright by his arms and made to stand facing one of the men.
He didn't know why he had assumed the instructors would be familiar people, it didn't make sense that they would be.
And they certainly weren't
Adam didn't recognize this man from.... Well from Adam.
Someone, gripping his arms tightly hauled him into position to face the man, who leaned forward huge hands grabbing Adam by the head, pressing his hands uncomfortably into his face as he leaned forward, "Thought you could get away did you." His eyes drifted down to the patch at the front of Adam's uniform and his eyebrow raised, "Like cartoons do you?" Around the circle the men and women laughed with derision.
Adam felt his face flush despite himself.
It reminded him of school.
He didn't like being reminded of school.
"For some reason I thought they would send us soldiers, not little boys."
Adam tugged back against the man's hands, and the man let him go. He didn't talk but glowered instead, and was forced to his knees in the dirt, the man standing over him, a man who proceeded to belittle and make fun of him for the entertainment of his men gloating at how easy he had been to capture and so on.
Adam had been belittled before, through school, and by his MTI, but deep down he knew that Sgt. Kimball was human. He had had a few interactions with the man that reminded him he was human. He liked Sgt Kimball, and knew that it was just his job, and despite knowing that was probably the case here, it still stung.
He tried not to let it.
You would think by now Adam would have gotten used to being made fun off, but for whatever reason it was just as acute as it ever was.
As the red crept into his cheeks, he could hear the men and women laughing at him.
He remined stubbornly silent.
The man knelt down in front of him a large knife grasped in his hand, He was grinning, "You know the sooner you talk the better this will be fore all of us." He gently patted Adam's arm with the flat of the massive blade, "Where is your unit located."
Adam didn't answer.
He wanted to say something defiant or cool, but he knew that that would only make the man mad.
Better get used to keeping his mouth shut.
A sharp sap to his cheek sent him reeling back into the dirt.
His eyes were wide with shock as the skin of his face smarted. It didn't hurt so much as shock him, but he didn't like it, and the man standing over him leaned down, "Where is your unit located."
Adam stubbornly kept his mouth shut.
This man could go right to hell.
Pulling out a canteen of water the man walked around him in a slow circle, "Are you thirsty, you must be after two days alone in the forest, here, have some water." Adam flinched again as the man flicked some water down towards his face, splashing against his cheek and dribbling down his neck.
The men and women laughed.
"Where is your unit located?"
Adam still didn't answer, and when no information was forthcoming the man snarled and barked, "Then we will have to do this the hard way."
Adam was hauled to his feet, and a bright blue bag was pulled down over his head. Strong hands gripped him by the shoulders as he was marched through the forest. In his ear someone whispered about obstacles in his path, building him over rocks and stumps. At some point they met up with other groups, and he was thrown into a chain with other prisoners, forced to rest his hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him as they walked in a line.
It seemed like they were walking for hours like that when the bags were removed and they were forced to their knees.
They sat in front of a large guarded concrete structure as their personal items were confiscated, then another group of people in masks hauled them inside the facility.
He was stripped, cavity searched and hosed down with freezing water. Crouching on the concrete he shivered arms around himself as he was humiliated and degraded. He was slapped a few more times, dressed, and then thrown into a room where loud discordant music played overhead. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't sleep. All down the hallway he could hear the same loud, echoing music.
Every time he started to drift, it seemed as if the music got louder.
He was hauled out of the room at some point of interrogation, thrown into a room as a man demanded to know the information. Adam refused to answer any of his questions. He was belittled threatened, the man backed off and then came at him again. All the time he refused to say anything, and he was told that next time he better cooperate fully, and he was dragged away to his cell.
Then the men would come in again.
He would be slapped around. Stomach, face.
Water would be splashed on him.
Manhandled and thrown up against walls.
Grabbing him by the collar of the shirt he was slammed back against the concrete on one or two occasions, and when that didn't work he was hosed down again before being told the commander though he needed some personal time alone in....
The box
It was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic, but even twenty minutes inside the confined space wasn't pleasant.
And all the while he was continually degraded and shouted at, forced to kneel in uncomfortable positions, and even thrown into a pit of water to tread for minutes on end as they tried to extract information.
Despite knowing it wasn't real it sure felt real.
And it was only once when he knelt shivering ins his sell did he catch wind that this was really just a simulation.
"Flight control."
He lifted his head, that was the safe word, being spoken from one of the other cells. It was hard to hear over the blaring sound, but he thought he could hear as a guard responded.
"Please repeat."
The voice quivered, "Flight control."
There was no response at first, and then Adam heard the sound of feet moving down the hallway, and then muttered voices.
Whoever had spoken was taken away.
It never occurred to Adam to use the safe word, in fact he had even forgotten that was an option. He just sort of assumed this was his life now, but he had always been like that, he lived in his own head in his own little world , and that is where he stayed until the guards came and he was finally free, blinking blearily into daylight. On the way he was told reporters were here to see him, that he could answer questions as long as he didn't say anything stupid or would make them look bad. Blinking into the sun he watched as the group asked questions, but still he refused to speak, and was dragged away and punished for it later.
Lying on the cold concrete floor as the music blasted overhead, Adam couldn't sleep, but he did continue to imagine the Star Trek crew coming to rescue him with their teleportation device. It was a nice thought, maybe Han Solo would attempt a daring rescue like when they had saved the princess.
That would be nice.
The door opened and he was dragged to his feet again.
Him and his group were dragged out onto hard concrete and forced to kneel.
"If you had been more cooperative, things might not have had to end like this, but you have forced my hand. You have proven useless, and we can no longer waste the resources to keep you alive. If any of you are willing to speak now, than they shall be spared and returned to your country of origin, if you do not than you will be killed by firing squad."
"Suck my balls."
That wasn't him that spoke, but one of the other students. He shared the sentiment though.
He heard someone get jabbed in the ribs.
"Then you have chosen your fate."
The bag was pulled from his head and he found himself kneeling in a line with his other classmates looking down the barrels of weapons pointed at them from across the concrete slab.
"Ready."
"Aim."
"Fire!"
He closed his eyes.
And nothing happened. After a moment he cracked one eye to see the hooded armed men pulling off their masks.
The commander stepped out in front of them.
"Congratulations recruits, you have passed the Survival, Evasion and Resistance Corse, give them a hand." It seemed odd to find the group of people that had tortured him for the past few days clapping for him now, but when the cuffs were removed and he was allowed to stand, he found that he couldn't really hold a grudge.
He was just happy it was over.
Even happier when he got to sleep.
And he did.
For fifteen hours straight.
***
There would be no applause this time. There was no one in the background monitoring if he was being treated only sort of badly. There was no physical threat he could fight off or someone to be defiant to. There was no valuable information he was trying to conceal.
It was just him.
Fighting for his own soul.
He would not let them through.
Just like he wouldn't talk.
Wouldn't break.
The safety net was gone now, but he was not going to let them win no matter what. He took a long deep breath feeling the fire as it spread through his lungs. The pain and the anguish was intense, roaring inside him. When he opened his eyes the world was a wash of colors simply blurred together on wet paper.
And then he saw something.
It was out of the corner of his eye, and difficult to see, but something about it made him turn his head for a better look. It was only a moment, but it was all he needed as his vision pulled into focus and he looked down at the floor to find.
Waffles.
His brain supplied the word.
The dog not the food.
She lay next to the outer plastic layer of the containment bubble her head resting sadly on her front paws between which rested a whit Captain's cap. Her ears were pulled back. If he had the words to describe what he saw there, he would have spoken them and god himself would have cried.
He sure did.
And he didn't have the words to speak what he felt.
It was official then.
He had to live.
There were clearly no other options.
He closed his eyes and it wasn't just the fire he felt, but the cool dampness on his cheeks, the heat of his own body.
He sunk back into his own head, into his own daydreams where he knew he Could make it.
A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
Beam me Up Scotty