The S.U. Space station

An hour after the meeting ended, Michael boarded the Excalibur and traveled to the space station for one purpose—to have a face-to-face conversation with their demon prisoner. There was an entire scientific team of psychologists and ex-military interrogators assembled to begin their work on the captured demon, as soon as Max gave them okay for it. Right now, Michael needed to confront the monster himself.

The dream he had last night did not help any; he was once again on the demon ship bridge, holding back the clawed hands of the beast, but there was one small difference. This time, he wore no helmet to protect his head and the demon did not have an oxygen mask covering his mouth. The image of those shark teeth inches away from his face woke him right up.

“So Max, how is our guest enjoying his new accommodations?” He asked as the ship was approaching the station.

“Well, he is sleeping right now, but his overall behavior leaves much to be desired, which makes me think that he has some serious anger issues. He’s also been extremely foul-mouthed; I almost wish that I did not know his language so I wouldn’t have to understand all that obscene barking. Although, his constant threats did provide me with some additional intelligence; it would seem that he has been someone important back home, or at least his ‘progenitor is’. A weird name to call one’s father. There are some things I’m still unclear about, and cannot ask him for clarification, even if I could get a word in.”

“Let’s see if he will react differently to me.”

The Excalibur went through the entire procedure of entering the space station by passing through numerous airlocks. They reached an isolated level on which the said prisoner was the only occupant. The decor was quite similar to the one he saw when they activated Ision’s AI-core. Miles of open space covered in gray metal and a plain ceiling that gave out a diffused white light. The only two features that stood out on this level were the central support pillar and the demon’s prison cell. It was a boxlike structure with numerous safeguards, all to ensure that the monster would not be able to get out.

The ship landed close to the building, and Michael exited the craft to find himself standing in front of a fifteen-foot-tall metal wall, with extremely tough-looking doors. As he passed through them, he could see that the walls were a few feet thick, indicating Max’s standard practice to over-engineer everything.

Inside was a regular looking cage with bars made out of Resistanium that were as thick as his thigh. Even that incredibly tough metal showed signs of the demon’s fists and claws. Max calculated that if their prisoner continued with the abuse of his prison cell, in a few centuries he would be able to break out. A wide yellow and red striped warning line was painted on the floor, indicating the demon’s reach, with ‘DO NOT CROSS!’ written in bright red letters in front of it.

When Michael entered the inner chamber of the demon's prison, the creature was sleeping on the ground, lying on one of those tatami mats they took from the scout ship. From his viewpoint, he could see its back and big leathery wings that were folded around the alien, appearing as if the demon was using them as a blanket. The sharp claws on the joints of those wings indicated that they could be used for more than flying. Long, muscled legs ended in broad elongated feet, which had a similar set of claws on the tips of the toes. It was so weird that these creatures could utilize their wings for combat, besides their arms. He once again realized how lucky he was in their first encounter; those claws could have ripped the flesh from his bones, in no time.

He disengaged the suit’s camouflage and took off his helmet; the temperature was on the cold side, but nothing too uncomfortable. Yet, the stench of sulfurous wet dog permeated the air around the cage. He wondered if all the legends about demons and the associated smell of brimstone originated from the ancient humans who somehow got close to the demons and lived to tell the tale. On the other hand, there was a possibility that those humans had managed to kill a few of these beasts. The picture he saw in a museum as a kid crossed his mind, depicting many humans dressed in fur, and attacking a giant mammoth. Admittedly, humans of that time were primitive compared to the demons that survived the destruction of the ship, but primitive doesn’t mean harmless. Something General Custer found out personally in the Battle of the Little Bighorn. Humans have a breaking point, after which they either succumb to despair or go into a battle frenzy. If you push someone across certain lines, do not be surprised if he goes directly for your jugular; it’s just the way the human species evolved.

It was a bit of a letdown for Michael that the alien didn’t notice him as soon as he became visible, so he put two of his fingers to his lips and produced a piercing whistle. The effect was instantaneous and extremely violent. The Demon jumped from the floor in the blink of an eye and came directly at Michael, without even pausing to assess the situation. The sound of his flesh hitting the metal bars reverberated through the enclosure. He was stretching his arms through the bars, with his clawed hands reaching towards the human before him. Those claws were stopped at the beginning of the striped warning line on the floor. The Demon was trying to attack while producing a resonating guttural sound, something more fitting coming from the throat of an enraged lion.

Michael stood there for a while, observing the raging alien. His heart was beating faster, a feeling of almost atavistic fear urging him to turn around and run away as fast as he could from the beast, but he did not want to give any indication that the Demon’s action had any effect on him. Eventually, when the roars quieted down, he said, “Captain1, if you would calm down maybe we could have a civilized conversation.”

Max was translating his speech into Demon’s language, and Michael tried not to make a grimace when he heard that translation sounding more like a pack of rabid dogs, fighting over a bone. The demon snarled, showing Michael a mouthful of sharp serrated teeth.

“Your species is small and weak, a lower life-form that is only good for servitude and food,” it growled at him menacingly.

Michael deliberately smiled at that, showing his own teeth in return.

“And yet, here you are, my prisoner, confined to a locked cell. What does that make you?”

It was like baiting a rabid dog, but he needed to establish some kind of a rapport with the alien. Showing any kind of weakness would diminish his position. The demon started raging again, trying to reach Michael with his claws. It took a few minutes for him to regain his composure, then he stood up straight, towering over a much smaller human before him.

“Your days are numbered, creature,” the demon said with a menacing grin. “My brothers will come and destroy your entire race. You dared to defy us, and that challenge will not go unanswered. Soon I will feast on your flesh and that of your children.” The demon said and Michael could see he had no doubt of that statement coming true.

Michael showed as many teeth as he could, and produced a menacing grin of his own.

“No, you won’t; we will be feasting on yours.”

The demon looked at him, not saying a word, squinting his eyes. This was not the response he was expecting; not seeing fear and terror in the lesser species was confusing to him.

Michael was following the script he made with Max and a few psychologists earlier on. They even had to consult a veterinarian, as someone more familiar with the instinctual behavior of predatory species. They were lacking experts on alien psychology and biology as there was never any need for such vocations. To correct that deficiency, a few scientists who were in the know, decided to pursue the fields of Xenobiology and Xenopsychology and were very excited that they could write books on the subjects.

When they spoke with Michael, they gave him a few guidelines and vague advice on how he should act. This was a contest of wills and perceptions, a way to make the demon go through a paradigm shift, by changing his view of reality and his place in the universe. The truth was a commodity they couldn’t indulge in, especially dealing with a member of the antagonistic alien race. They needed information on how demons’ think, and to find the chinks in their psychological armor. It is not as if the humans did not have experience at extracting information, usually from their own kind; those proven methods could be adapted for the current situation.

Michael looked into the alien's black eyes, and took a step forward, all the way to the outer edges of the danger line on the floor. The only advantage he had was that the demon didn’t really know with whom he was dealing with. The entire human race was a big unknown to this creature, and Michael intended to use that.

“We have been observing you for almost thirteen millennia.” Michael started to spin his tale. “Ever since those angels which escaped your conquest of Gaina came to us, begging for our help. We were already more advanced than they were, so we made them our slaves and used the information they had on you to prepare for the time of the encounter of our two species. All this time we watched you how you conquered other sapient life forms, and used them as slaves and food. For all that time we have been building our strength, and no species in this universe is our equal. Soon, we will start a great hunt, with thousands of ships, and millions of bloodthirsty warriors. Your species, Captain1, will be our prey.” Michael said, hoping to get some rise from a demon, but the only thing he could detect was a slight widening of the eyes.

“How easily you fell into our trap with that malfunctioning probe we sent. Besides, this is not even our home system; we have hundreds of others that we conquered over time. All that we have done because of you, so we could grow stronger, so we could hunt you down. We will not rest until the entire demon species is under our control. You will be nothing more than slaves, and Captain1… slaves have no use for their wings.” Michael said and mimicked cutting off the leathery appendages of the demon's back.

At that moment, he was thankful for the drama class he took in high school; there was a girl involved, but still.

“Captain1, have you ever had the pleasure of tasting succulent demon flesh, cooked over a slow fire? I cannot even begin to describe how tasty the meat of your crewman was when we ate him at the feast last night.” Michael said, licking his lips, and trying to imagine that the demon is a juicy steak. In his opinion, he was doing a pretty good impersonation of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

The demon stepped back, never shifting his gaze from Michael, but bending his head to one side, as a dog would.

“And look how effortlessly we captured you, Captain1. In your stupidity, you fell right into our trap, which was devised so we could acquire a live specimen… you.”

The demon was silent for a while, and then barked, “What do you want from me?”

Michael smiled again. “Your cooperation Captain1… and your servitude. There is no doubt that we will conquer your entire race, but that doesn't necessarily need to be a bad thing for you.” Michael said convincingly, and the demon shifted on his feet.

“If you cooperate with us, we can make a deal with you. How would you like to be a Leader1 of your entire race? If you work for us and act as our adviser—we could make that happen. Of course, your responsibility afterward would be to keep your entire species firmly under your heel; we would let you remain in control of all slave races you conquered. Naturally, there would be a few of our commands you’ll need to obey, but you would ultimately be in charge of all demons. Think about that Captain1 while you sit in this metal box. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a feast to attend. The second of your crewmen survived, and he will be the main course. I wish you could have heard him scream when we put him in the fire, it was the most beautiful sound in the universe.” Michael smiled again.

The demon grunted, not saying anything. But that was enough for Michael, he didn’t expect to make any headway in this first conversation. This was just planting a seed of an idea, a seed that will hopefully—in time—grow into something bigger.

Before exiting the enclosure, Michael turned around and looked once again at the demon.

“Call for me if you want something more in life than rotting away in your cell awaiting our next feast… my name is Michael.”

He could feel the alien’s penetrating gaze on his back and felt the hairs on his neck rise a little.

“That was a whole bunch of crap if I ever heard one, and you went off the script,” Max said as Michael was entering the Excalibur.

“I know, I had to wing it at the end, but hopefully something will come out of all that. Make sure our interrogators know exactly what was said, so they don’t accidentally change my story.”

“I will, but I’m not sure if we will ever get to him. Remember that we are working here with an entirely alien species, who knows what drives them.”

“I’m betting there are enough similarities between us then even we suspect. And he is alone with no prospects of a better future. Which reminds me, you need to build a bigger enclosure, maybe mile by mile. Include some features that will be familiar to him. That will be one of the rewards for his cooperation.”

“Jesus… do you intend for me to build an alien zoo?”

Michael smiled. “You can look at it that way. A perfect place to study them in as natural an environment as we can create. The more we know about them increases our chances to defeat the next incursion.

As the Excalibur was returning to the Ascension, Michael once again went over the entire encounter with the demon, remembering the piercing look of those soulless eyes.