Why Humans Make Bad Pets!

I am xeno King Arthur

Dear Journal,

I am xeno King Arthur.

Except I have an alien lava scimitar instead of some piddly steel sword.

So I'm pretty sure I win.

But at the same time, f**k my life.

Again.

I woke up, which is more than I had assumed I would manage when I had gone to sleep. I think I remembered something about the human body only being able to survive 3 days or so without water, and by my estimate I had been in that escape pod with Captain Roids for a good decade, so pretty close to the 3 day mark unless I missed my guess by much. Once I had woken up, however, any expectations I had had from that point on went out the window.

First of all, I was on a ship, but not a ship I recognized. I was pretty proud of myself that I could recognize the humming of a FTL drive without even trying. What can I say? I'm a quick study when it comes to street smarts. The only problem was that this ship which I didn't recognize did have some rather disturbing similarities to another kind of ship I'd seen only in the movies. A troop transport. From what I could see of it the ship appeared to be merely one massive room, divided into sections with half-walls. Each of these sections contained 10 bunk-beds, most of which were occupied by aliens of all shapes and sizes, each wearing nearly the exact same thing. Well, not the exact same thing, since the participating species couldn't seem to agree on the correct number of arms or legs or, in a few cases, heads, but the clothes were the same color at least.

Those clothes were a black shirt and red pants, and I have to say, it was pretty sharp. At least, it would have looked sharp if it weren't for the numerous sweat stains and the fact that not everyone seemed to be wearing a shirt, but at least the potential was there. I had bigger problems other than the blatant fashion crimes taking place right in front of me, like where was I and why hadn't I been given such a dapper uniform. I could have pulled if off better than half of the xenos there.

Then the thing I'd been trying to ignore hit me like a fly on the windshield of a Japanese bullet train. I was on a troop transport. I was on a troop transport! I was a troop being transported! Will Smith's voice entered my mind, helping me out with the words I couldn't properly say. "Aw Hell no!" I couldn't be drafted into the army! I had won! I had beaten back the evil lizard-ants and had even managed to survive getting hit by 1 and a half of those anti-tank rounds, and now I wasn't even allowed to go back and be adored as a hero again? I had just started being able to talk to Mama too! Really! Who did I piss off so badly upstairs that they wouldn't even let me do a victory lap once I had done the right thing!

It's fine, I'm good, I'm not mad. I just need to take a deep breath and calm down. I'm going to be fine. How bad could it be, anyway? I was alive, which is always a good start, and they had given me a bed, which meant they could see right off the bat that I was sapient, which was better than could have been said for the experience I had endured last time I had awoken on an unfamiliar ship. It wasn't like the blue-giraffes had been my home, anyway. I was trying to get to my real home, and if this way was faster than I embraced it. I'm ok. I really am. Deep. Breaths.

As I wasn't dead I could assume my new hosts, whoever they were, were friendly, or, at least, non-hostile. They had even given me my new alien lava scimitar and its sheath! They weren't studying me like d**k and Shifty had wanted to, either. What did they want from me then? I knew it looked like a troop transport, so maybe they wanted me to be a cook? Perhaps a worker? I didn't exactly know on what level these aliens waged war, so I could be something as preposterous as a trench digger, although that would suck to an endless degree. But regardless of what role they wanted me to fulfill, why would they have given me a bunk with the rest of the soldiers?

My eyes fell upon the lava scimitar again. Oh. No. You have GOT to be kidding me! Seriously? They wanted me to be a soldier? It's not like I wouldn't make a damn fine one if the soldiers were anything like the xenos I'd fought so far, but the powers that were had no way of knowing that! What kind of i***t would draft someone they found, metaphorically speaking, on the side of the road and just decide "Yeah, he looks kind of mean, he'd make a great addition to our army." "But sir" the other guy would say, "He's drunk and passed out and sleeping in a pile of his own feces. And look, there's a dead guy right next to him. It looks like he just up and murdered that lizard-ant with a sword. You want that in our ranks?" and then the commander would just smile as he slowly nodded, murmuring "He's perfect." Who does that? I can tell you right now, no one in their right minds.

Maybe you'd do that to a guy if you were going to training. I mean, I had been in a pretty bad shape, and if someone had offered to let me join the army or stay in my pod with Roids I would have taken up arms right there, but I obviously wasn't on my way to training. The aliens around me moved with too much confidence. It wasn't bravado. They were just sure of themselves. They each looked like a fit specimen of their own species, and the way in which they handled themselves as they moved spoke of training and discipline. I also saw quite a few weapons out of weapons lockers and in the hands of their owners, so that might have helped out my observations as well, just a little.

My brooding was interrupted when a sound issued from the top bunk of the bed I was sitting on. From over the side a long, thin face with orange skin and what looked like a multitude of warts poked into my view. It had slits for pupils in its red eyes, and I have to say that I probably would have peed a little if I'd any water to pee. It said something, and I was almost relieved that it wasn't a bunch of unintelligible clicks. If I closed my eyes I could almost believe that it was some language from earth that I didn't know, rather than an alien tongue. This was encouraging, since it meant that I actually had a chance at some basic communication with this guy, so long as I was going to be spending a good deal of time with this guy, which I had a feeling I was.

The reason I'd never tried learning any of the blue-giraffe's words was because I physically couldn't. I didn't think they were even able to talk in the same way I was, and I knew they had made several sounds which I would have been hard pressed to replicate. I couldn't have even told them my name, since it would have just sounded like grunts to them. But this guy knew I was sapient and had similar vocal chords to me. My time here was already off to a better start than it ever had before. I still couldn't understand what he said, though. Where was a Yoda when you needed one?

He seemed frustrated that I couldn't understand him, but at the same time as though he had confirmed something. He hopped down from the bed, where I could see the rest of him. He was about 50 centimeters taller than me, and a good deal thinner. He had five legs and 4 arms, but a normal sized neck and, as I had noticed before, orange skin. The warts also seemed to be a general skin feature as well. Poor bloke. He spoke to me again, but this time as though one with the understanding that I couldn't speak his language and vice versa. Using all four hands to motion towards himself, he said one word. "Manthlel." Dang it! Now it would have been rude to call him Toad. I was pretty proud of that one too; it was one of my best. Better than Warty, at least. Fine, I guess I could call him by his real name. I might as well get the pronunciation correct as well. "Manth . . . lel?" I said, looking to him in askance. He nodded which I hope meant the same thing to him as it did to me. Confirming it once more in my mind I said it again. "Manthlel."

Now it was my turn. I learned my lessons well, and I remembered clearly the words my mother had said to me when I was just a boy. "Son," she said, "Never give your name to a stranger you have just met on the street. School is fine, but outside of school, and to people who aren't your own age, they don't need to know your name, and if they ask, just tell them something else." Well I sure as heck wasn't in school, and I had no idea how old this guy was, so I wasn't giving him my name no siree. I decided not to lie to him, however. Lying is wrong, that's another thing Mother said. Gesturing to myself in the same way he had - except with only two arms - I told him as much as I was willing. "Human." He mouthed the word several time, then said it back to me in the same way I had when I'd heard his name. "HUman. HumAN. HUman." I gave him a thumbs up without thinking. Then he reciprocated the gesture.

It was so unexpected that I burst out laughing. I hadn't seen such a human gesture in so long it felt like I'd gone in for a brofist and he's returned one with a secret handshake. He smiled at my mirth, or maybe he was getting ready to rip my throat out since I had insulted his ancestress with my laughter or something, I don't know. He didn't attack, so I guess smiles meant the same thing to him as they did to me. I was so happy with the progress I'd already made. "Manthlel, you're already a better friend than any alien I've ever met. Just don't try to feed me lettuce or lock me into my bunk and we'll be off to a good start. As it is though, you don't happen to have any purple xeno pig rats do you? I'm starving and I would love some if you happen to have any." Apparently he didn't, but he had something even worse than lettuce it seemed.

He took me over to what looked like a bird feeder in the back wall of our cubicle which was also the hull of the ship. In the little bucket, which appeared to be the end of a chute that disappeared into the wall and an area unknown, was a multitude of grey spheres each slightly smaller than my fist. I looked at Manthlel and the spheres, nonplussed. He motioned towards the spheres. I continued to stare at him. Exasperated, he picked one up and bit into it. It looked like it had the constancy of bread dough. "You know what? I've changed my mind. Lettuce is what I'm craving right now. Please?" Manthlel just stared at me, encouraging me to take one of the spheres. I was starving, and there seemed to be nothing else, so I picked one up and took a bite.

It tasted like nothing. Not the nothing of water, which is actually something, or the nothing of cucumbers bought from Walmart; this was literally nothing. I had been right about the texture though. It was the feeling of bread dough in my mouth with absolutely nothing registered by my tongue except that there was indeed some form of matter in my mouth. It was disgusting, but at the same time, palatable. I ate it, and it seemed my body was in the mood for food more than it was for satisfying my craving for something with a taste. I ate another one. They were actually filling, despite their size. Still, they were about as large as a small apple, and I hadn't eaten in days. After the first two I guessed how many I would eat and grabbed six more.