Ice cold water splashed over the soldier’s face, dragging him yet again from the depths of unconsciousness. His eyes snapped open. Bright lights blurred his vision. While waiting for the lenses in his eyes to adjust, he lapped up as much water streaming down his face as possible. Either it was toxic and would painfully kill him, releasing him from his misery, or it would sate his thirst for a few moments. It ended up being the latter. His captors probably wanted him alive, at least for the time being.

Grogginess prevented him from thinking clearly, but he could, at least, tell that he was confined in midair by metal circlets fastened around his head, chest, wrists, and ankles tight enough to dig into his skin. His naked body floated above that all too familiar piece of equipment. Foggy memories of wishing to never see a magnetic restraining system again after torture and interrogation resistance training flitted through his mind. The device always reminded him of a skewed version of the Roman crucifix.

A few seconds later, his lenses finished adjusting. Before anything else, he examined his area of confinement. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all constructed with a completely uniform white material reminiscent of concrete. Only a large circular hatch built into the wall directly in front of him broke the monotony. Honestly, he was only shocked to not see anyone in front of him. The water that woke him apparently originated from a nozzle hanging overhead.

To his surprise, the hatch suddenly rotated open with a hiss. A figure two heads taller than the average human entered the brightly lit room. A Volkri, and not a combat class either, considering its smaller stature.

The steel-gray chitin carapace coating its feet clacked against the floor with each step. Both feet had three segmented toes, two in front and one in back, covered with innumerable little hairs. Its legs, sprouting from the lower end of the thorax, were jointed in two places like the rest of its species, allowing for absurdly powerful kicks and jumps. A large abdomen jutted out behind its legs and was covered in the same sturdy carapace as the rest of its body. Black satchels hung on either side of it carrying all kinds of equipment. Its thorax looked eerily similar to a human torso with overly wide shoulders. Two powerful arms sprouted from each side of its upper thorax for a total of four intimidating limbs. Spiked chitin grew from its forearms and upper back. Many a human fell to those natural weapons on the battlefield. Near the top of its thorax, several layers of chitin formed a semi-protective dome around the most vulnerable weak point on its body, a neck that jutted straight out and connected to a small yet absurdly intricate face. The softer chitin on the faces of each of their species vastly differed in both shape and complexion. Four pointed antennae protruded from just above its black compound eyes. A second set of eyes similar to a mammal’s swiveled in their sockets between the compound set.

The insect-like alien strode right up to the confined soldier. It’s mandibles vibrated, generating countless indecipherable clicks, drivel completely lost on any human. At the same time, a sulphuric stench floated from its putrid snot-colored labium. The prisoner’s face contorted in disgust.

Clacking it’s mandibles in a way that sounded eerily similar to a sigh, the Volkri captor backed off a bit and held up a tablet the man did not notice before. Blue lettering on the screen read: Name?

The imprisoned soldier blinked, taken aback. Although humans never underestimated the intelligence of their enemy, he could not believe his eyes. In the past, linguists attempted to discover translations for the Volkri tongue, but to no avail, and here this Roach was holding a tablet with English on it as though they didn’t even have to struggle to translate anything.

Suddenly, the Volkri tapped on the screen a few times with a free limb, pulling the prisoner’s attention back to the screen. He decided to keep his lips shut. Giving the enemy more info on their language, no matter how little, could prove detrimental.

Eventually, the Volkri realized its captive planned to remain silent and clacked its mandibles in a manner the prisoner never heard before in battle. It chattered to itself nonstop, almost as though complaining, while tapping on its tablet with three hands, if the three-clawed extremities could even be called that. After a few seconds, it held the tablet in front of the prisoner’s face again.

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Trying to help.

The prisoner raised a brow. He could not understand what such a statement meant coming from this Roach.

Noticing the confusion on the human’s face, the Volkri scratched its chin plate, pulled back the tablet, and thought for a moment, all the while chattering to itself. Then, it retyped something and thrust the tablet back out.

Trying to stop war.

Instantly, the prisoner furrowed his brows. Over the past eleven years, all he could remember of the Roaches was thorough extermination of human colonies. He couldn’t help doubting the words of the species that slaughtered billions of his people, including his own parents.

Again, the Volkri realized its prisoner would not speak. It lowered the tablet in resignation. Chattering to itself, it pulled a small chain from one of the satchels wrapped around its abdomen. The prisoner’s eyes widened. His dog tags dangled from the Roach’s bristly hand right before his eyes.

“Krsha Krshl?” The Volkri chittered.

The prisoner’s eyes widened even further. The Roach definitely tried to say his name just now. He did not know whether to be frightened or impressed. Unfortunately, the Roach lifted its tablet one more time. As with the first time, the only word was: Name. There was no question mark like before, though.

Giving in, the prisoner said his name, though his voice sounded weak. “Joshua Harell…”

“Kreshwa Krashel,” Volkri chittered, a deep hum flowing from its mouth with each word. It sent shivers down Joshua’s spine. He never heard such a thing from these aliens before.

Once again, the Volkri typed on its tablet. When it turned the screen toward Joshua, it read: Thank you. With that, the alien left. The hatch closed behind it. Once again, the imprisoned soldier was alone.

Joshua could not tell how much time passed from that point onward. All he could do was hang from his restraints while recalling the events from the failed search and destroy operation. He envisioned the powerful and charismatic speech of Lieutenant Ferys right before exiting the Rift. The faces of all the men, Langley, Rogers, Callahan, Tracy, and even Murray glowed with anxious anticipation at the encouraging words. Flashes of red and orange lightning crackled around the ship when they slipped out of the Rift. They all slipped on their combat helmets. It was do or die. He could see it as though it was all happening again that very moment.

Then, the explosion. Shards of shrapnel slicing through the Lieutenant’s face. A broken pipe crushing Langley’s chest. The wall behind Joshua splitting apart. The horrified clambering of Tracy struggling to grasp his outstretched arm as he plummeted toward the surface of Ispis.

Freezing cold water smacked the top of his head again, pulling him from the nightmarishly vivid recollections. His breathing was ragged and shallow as though he just finished several suicide sprints. The taste of blood coated the roof of his mouth. He blinked multiple times while breathing deeply through his nose in an attempt to gather his senses.

Straight ahead, the circle hatch hissed open. A Volkri stepped through. Its facial plates and the color of its carapace were different than the previous Roach. On top of that, it carried an ominous case in one of its hands. Compared to the previous captor, this one approached with a menacing gait.

After entering the room, the Roach stepped toward the wall to Joshua’s left. It pressed a seemingly ordinary notch on the wall, and a metal platform jettisoned from within, generating a loud clap which made Joshua flinch. The Roach then lifted the case in front of its own face. A blue hologram extended over his eyes to perform some sort of retina scan. Moments later, two hinges snapped open along the seam. The Roach set down the case and lifted the lid, revealing several crude blades and tools alongside a rather out of place tablet similar to the one used by the previous visitor.

Without hesitation, the Roach grabbed the tablet with one hand as well as a small drill and a serrated blade in two of its free hands. As it stepped toward him, Joshua prepared himself for the worst.