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"OverDrive"

(C) 2017 Sinclair Diavante

Chapter 1: A.D. 2017

"Until one has loved an animal a part of one's soul remains unawakened."

• Anatole France

Jake Michaelson is basically Joe Average, young and bright, with a promising career in finances. All that ends when Earth falls into his past, cybernetic implants fill his present, and a rather unique Artificial War-Class Weapon, that represents his only future. This is a full length novel full of the struggle to adapt, to meet an alien races needs, packed with action and suspense. Keep your eyes forward, Jake, there's no looking back. Try to have a little fun, maybe...

Jake's abduction didn't begin like a scene from any movie. There was no dramatic orchestra playing to a pale blue gravity beam, painfully lifting him up by his rib cage, carrying him high into the sky, towards a brightly lit mother ship, while simultaneously rendering him both physically and mentally paralyzed.

Before the abduction, he hadn't noticed any geometric patterns mysteriously carved into his lawn, invoking deep unease and neighboring suspicions, perhaps coded messages from two opposing alien factions; an intergalactic warning of transpiring events that he had somehow innocently became tangled up in.

There were no preceding nightmares, containing strange shapes and masked heads with black demonic eyes looming oh-so-close, which he subsequently portrayed by feverishly sculpting shapes into a pile of mashed potatoes, while in the middle of eating dinner the next night.

Jake didn't like mashed potatoes, nor did he even have a lawn, he lived on the 32nd floor of a tall sky-rise in New York City.

While the abduction started out uniquely, once the experiments began, things turned gravely familiar to a dude from the 21st century. A guy who had seen enough sci-fi, he easily understood the bodily invasion, once it began. Such intimate infiltration was almost comforting to him, for at last, they were aspects that made sense. Until it was over, because what followed surpassed even his wildest imagination, and he never saw Earth ever again.

"C'mon, Sparky. Go potty." A car horn honked nearby, traffic was unusually thick for a Thursday night, around 8PM, in downtown Manhattan. Taxi's sat idling in long, uneven yellow lines, temporarily filling all the lanes on 2nd Ave, while a hot dog vendor standing just a few feet away cried out from behind his cart,

"Fo' dolla', hot dogs... hunded pacent pure beef, no filla's!" Jake was walking his miniature Schnauzer to a small patch of grass surrounding a young tree, held up by metal stakes and twine. As usual, Sparky was far more interested in the looming buildings and the smell of cooking frankfurters, than in doing his business like a good dog.

The subway shook the sidewalk as it rushed by underground, and fragrant steam briefly ceased drifting up from a nearby ventilation grate. Jake kept the retractable leash in constant-tension mode, mirroring his thoughts for his date with Stacy tonight. Constant tension, what to wear, what to order at Gianette's Italian Restaurant. Circular thoughts, which always returned to the same question, of what she likes and what she'll be like.

Should he order expensive Chianti, and present the concept that it's obvious he's buying dinner? Or does he want to start the relationship out on equal terms? Women's rights groups had pushed an agenda to the point where many women today found it insulting if men automatically assumed that they would pay for the whole tab. Exactly how do you find that out beforehand? Jake decided to ask Sparky.

Hey, are you going to pay for half of the bill, or am I floating the whole check?" The little gray dog only stared up at him while pinching a tootsie roll into the grass. Jake checked to make sure a small roll of blue poop bags were in the left pocket of his brown leather jacket, knowing there was also a spare roll in the right. City Ordinances were a bitch, and he could feel the eyes of a traffic cop parked nearby staring directly at him, itching to swing his ticket-book into writing position.

"Sparky's a good boy, yes he is!" His gray tail came alive from the affection, but Jake wasn't terribly attached to the dog. His distant aunt had died last year from a stroke and someone needed to take care of him, Jake had volunteered because he was feeling lonely at the time, his nuclear family were all far too busy to take on someone else's responsibilities. His building allowed dogs up to 30lbs, so he had taken it upon himself to adopt him.

He held his breath while he picked up the warm turd, performing a quick knot at the top and, searching for the nearest city trash basket, he spotted the parking cop as he tossed it in.

He wasn't paying attention anymore, maybe the cop was just pretending to ignore him. Actually, he was selecting songs on his iPod. That's an interesting aspect of the job, he realized. Hearing wasn't needed, only sight. Perhaps hearing-challenged people were more attracted to those positions.

Jake needed all of his facilities for his job, working at One East Financial, located in the banking district. Associate Accounts Manager II, a salary of ninety-five thousand per year plus a five-percent annual bonus, all to support around five thousand customers, relying upon him to do... almost nothing, each day. But Jake performed his job well, overseeing interest deposits and authorizing overdraft fee refunds. It paid much better than his part-time job working for UPS, driving the big brown trucks around to deliver packages. That had been his college job, but he'd finished his Masters in accounting, and now his salary easily paid for his flat, his Honda CRV, and it's six-hundred dollar monthly for a covered parking spot. As well as an expensive bottle of wine, tonight, he decided. It was the manly thing to do, he couldn't go wrong, and if she was offended, well, there were three other possibilities that the dating site had found for him.

Stacy was a blond Caucasian from Delaware, recently moved to Queens, she enjoyed tennis and salt-water aquariums, he had found her profile on christianmingle.com. Jake wasn't religious at all, and the site's founders would probably start a crusade if they ever discovered that almost none of their users worshiped the Jesus. Jake also wasn't a sex offender, or a rapist, or a weirdo. The site was particularly effective at screening those out, and his idea of kinky was the condom in his wallet, it had little bumps on the inside, and it was red. He liked to joke that it made his dick look like Sparky's, but while he did prefer fucking on all fours, with two fused vertebrae in his lower spine, compliments of a football injury in high school, it wasn't kink that made him use that position.

He took a quick glance at his watch, a perfectly conservative Fossil analog, matte gray titanium metal band, gold hands. 8:17PM. Dinner reservations were for 9PM, the place was only a 15 minute cab ride away, although... glancing at the traffic, he decided that he should get a move on, might even need to hurry. He would have to walk a few extra blocks before hailing a cab.

The iPhone 7 in his back pocket told him the time just fine, but an unspoken tradition was that all bankers wore watches. His company even issued them as an ever-increasing reward for continuous years of employment. Five years earned you a Citizen, ten would land you a silver Tag Heur, and twenty got the gold Rolex Automatic.

He walked Sparky back to his apartment, smiling at the front door attendant of the building's entrance, waiting while he pulled the glass wide on silent hinges.

"Evening to you, Mr. Michaelson." Jake nodded to him as he walked past.

"Thank you, Josh." Jake didn't tip him because of how large Josh's paychecks were. Josh had an account at One East, in fact, one of the accounts on Jake's list, an amusing coincidence that exposed the fact that Josh must be the son of one of the building's superintendents, or something. Josh made more per year than Jake, an ironic secret he was careful not to convey. Josh also just spent $500 buying "gold" in the Android Marketplace Game, Walking War Robots, owned by Pixonic.

Game on, Josh, he almost muttered.

Amazing, what the gaming market had become. Back in Jake's Super Nintendo days, you figured $40-60 for a game and... that was it. At some point, casino money tactics merged with online micro transactions, which didn't stay micro for very long. People needed something to spend their money on, and Jake saw it all. Online addiction combined with an unlimited supply, and it was all legal, for now.

Ding! Josh walked Sparky onto the elevator and proceeded to get ready for his date.

" Another human?" Filthrax asked his navigator in frustration, his white feathered crest raised in alarm. "Has it ever occurred to the Trade Placement Guild that if we keep taking so many of them, eventually the Earthers are going to notice? Perhaps even do something about it?"

Bleek only gave the feline equivalent of a shrug, twisting his head sideways with his ears flat. Bird tasted good, and he was hungry. The air handlers onboard "Fearless Stalker" labored to absorb their combined scent, trying to keep the two crew members from having at each other in earnest.

"Chang says humans disappear all the time." His voice was smooth and deadly, appropriate for a hunter. "They are unaccounted for, and rarely researched. Earthers are a primitive race, they do not even know when they're missing half of the time."

"Chang is smart," Filthrax bobbed his head. "But the other half is the half that I'm worried about." He snapped his beak in agitation, idly flexing his wrist joints, stabbing at the controls to bring the ship through Earth's atmosphere after a low altitude orbit.

Bleek stared at Nav Comp, green graphics reflecting from his amber eyes, and he keyed in a sequence to select an approach destination.

"Heading approach... eastern seaboard, second continent, densely populated region, on the screen."

"I see it. Cloaking will activate after re-entry, for now we are just a friendly meteorite, here to take some of you away... switching to aerobrake profile." Filthrax reached forward and twisted a dial to adjust the ship's layout. The decking began to softly vibrate below his feet as unspeakable energy converted into heat. "TPG knows best," he thought aloud. "Which, incidentally, says Earthers are good for the economy with the war effort growing. Some day AI will best their brainpower, but for now... they remain useful. How do we prep this one, for military, pleasure, or general purpose?"

"Spec sheet says GP," Bleek purred. "That makes it easy. I'll take care of it. Though if you see one nearby that fits the build for military, take it with the second beam, I need it for myself to make payment on a debt."

Filthrax scowled, " Two? You expect me to risk the safety of this ship for you to make, probably... two hundred kilocreds? I want fifty for participation."

"Thirty, and I hope your nest mother dies of dysentery."

"Forty!" Filthrax stood all his feathers out on end. "Or I turn us around and report you for unauthorized harvesting."

Thirty five, or I'll find your nestlings and eat them."

"Thirty five, fine. Trade warp lane robbery, this is." He pauses. "There are your humans, like prothean worms scurrying around a nest hill.

"Mmm. Yes, I see one apart from the others, walking beside a transportation network pathway. Body type male, fits pleasure and GP, not military grade.

"Hit him with the lights, it always makes them hold still, easy to beam."

"Your hunting skills disappoint, you would rely on poaching tactics? Very well. Look at the pretty lights, Earther... and, now." Bleek stabbed the activate button on the molecular transport system. The ship's engines thrummed with the sudden power demands, then fell back to their background warble. Bleek hissed in anger.

"Curse your children to the void! It moved. Now it's running, bring us around for an intercept course, heading two-three-three.

"Only one beam left, recharge time exceeds warp window, looks like you pay your debt some other way." His cheek feathers covered his beak in veiled humor.

"No. Oh bird-of-little-help, I'll get two for price of one, just watch. I only need it to get near a military grade... And... zammo! Got them both."

Filthrax's console buzzed a warning. "You're a scintian herd beast, one didn't survive! You should know the success rate of simultaneous beaming is low! Go down and clean up that mess, make sure the GP is viable."

Bleek narrowed his eyes in irritation. "I'm headed below decks. I'll be back."

Jake gasped in a deep breath, every sound he made echoed in the small metal chamber surrounding him. He was sprawled out on his stomach, dim purple lighting from far above was the only way he knew what direction up was. The chamber spun as his disorientation intensified.

Clothes no longer covered his body, instead something else did... something... warm and sticky. Gravel or... branches, sticks... some sharp pieces, painfully digging into his skin. Whatever it was, it was rapidly cooling.

The smell of voided bowels filled his nostrils when he took a moment to breathe through his nose. That's when he realized all the stickiness was blood, and what lay about him was the remains of another human, and it was fresh.

The guy had... basically exploded.

"What the fuck!" He shouted, immediately regretting the echo that hurt his ears. He slipped and slid, working to get his limbs under him, then he scrabbled backwards, his back striking a warm metal wall as he threw viscera and bone, skin and pieces of... person... off of him. Two digits of a pinky finger were tangled in his pubic hair, he screamed again as he flung it and everything else he could find off of him.

The shit smell was the worst, he was going to puke... yep... here it comes.

Jake leaned forward and brought up bile from an empty stomach, he hadn't even made it to dinner, his head was instantly pounding, he heaved and heaved, waves of dizziness overwhelming his senses.

Yellow light fell on him in a rapidly widening crack, interrupting his sickness, and Jake saw a door opening, he stared up, and up... at a giant black creature, at least ten feet tall. It was covered in fur, with a long serpentine tail flicking behind it, and the head of a cat with yellow eyes calmly regarded him, Jake felt certain he was losing his mind. It wrinkled its nose and folded its ears flat.

A screeching squawk issued from a speaker in the wall. Jake could parse none of it, but Bleek understood the question all too well.

"Which survived, the GP or the Military?"

Bleek stared at the meager human, the muscles barely hanging off of his bones, he was weak and soft. He shook his head in disappointment, but his debt had to get paid.

"Only the military grade earther lived. Sorry."

More birdlike noises, sounding enraged.

Jake's eyes turned wide at the hissing, spitting growl that responded. He leaned his head against the wall and was ready to cry, ready to piss himself. There was nowhere to run!

"Don't... eat me... please dear god, don't eat me..."

"It thinks I'm going to eat it," Bleek said, amused. "I am hungry, it would taste good, but... no... up you go, human." He leaned forward and grabbed him by the neck, it's small pink hands fought against his arm but Bleek already knew its nails were harmless. He dragged him out of the room and let him walk a bit, humans might be small but they weren't weightless.

Jake was terrified. He kept waiting to wake up, waiting for something to happen, to indicate that this was just a dream, but it only turned more real by the moment.

It made no sense, there had been a strange pattern on the ground near him, by the cab he was approaching, red and green and blue, and it... rotated. It was clearly laser light, and Jake couldn't see where the source was, of course. But the pattern was unusual, circular with a swiftly changing shape in the center, and he decided... maybe it was some sort of bombing target, another terrorist attack, so he ran.

The next thing he knew, he saw a wave of water, like from a car crashing through a puddle on the street, washing over him, but there was no car and he wasn't even near the street anymore.

The wave washed over him and it was freezing cold.

Now he was here, with a warm hand tightly holding his neck, claws pricking his skin, walking quickly beside the thing, it really smelled strongly, like... a sort of spicy musk, its feet were huge, and so were the steps it took, and it walked on hind legs like a person.

They entered a room with a smooth, shiny white floor, funneled with a hole in the center. The surface was cold under his bare feet. All along the wall was a series of black protrusions, at Jake's eye-level, shaped almost like flowers with four petals.

The monster shoved Jake's head into the center of one, and the leathery petals folded tightly around his head, sealing out all light and sound both.

Jake felt sharp pain against his lips, hard protrusions, like spikes. They were moving, and Jake's hands came up to the thing encasing his head as they pried his mouth open. Slick warmth forced its way against his tongue, it was slippery and tasted sweet, but he didn't pay attention to it for long, for it pushed further into his mouth and ran down the back of his throat, expanding rapidly, and then with a second expansion, further down in the middle of his throat, painfully. Another, even lower, and then finally in his stomach, a building ache, all of this occurring in an eye-blink.

He was gagging for the second time, trying to heave with all of his might, but the thing was so large, nothing came up, and it went so deep, it cut short his entire attempt to vomit. Somehow he was able to breathe still, but not through his nose. His breaths sounded hollow in his ears, and icy coldness began filling his stomach rapidly.

Jake couldn't move his head, the petals gripped it far too securely, he tried getting his fingers under it, around his neck, but it was no use, they felt like a solid ring of steel. All he could do was stand there while his stomach slowly filled, further and further. It felt like he was going to explode.

A cramp wracked his chest, he felt heavy, his stomach was sagging, and the cramp grew in intensity, joining another, which moved lower... and lower.

Relief finally came, abruptly, although with a surge of embarrassment. He had no choice, he couldn't hold it. He voided his bowels, and the smooth white floor with the funneled center now made sense.

It was a drain.

The cramps continued for minutes on end, for what felt like hours, even, they moved closer and closer together, until it was one continuous cramp, and one solid stream running through him, what had started out warm, running down the insides of his legs, it turned cold.

His bladder joined the fray, complaining loudly until it, too, he released. Over and over again.

He began to shake and shiver uncontrollably, warmth had left him, leaving him terribly weak, his teeth bounced off the spikes holding them apart, and he was sure he was going to chip his teeth. Biting down onto them was all he could do to hold still.

A stabbing pain struck his back, vibrating his insides with the intensity of the blast, but it was hot, mercifully hot, something was spraying hard at him, it felt like a fire hose, and it was strong enough to bruise his skin where his shoulder blades were near the surface, making it burn like fire. The intensity lessened when it came around in front of him, he tried to twist away when it nailed his balls but it was no use, he held his hands over them protectively. He yelled, perhaps even screamed, but the sound of the fluid vibrating up through his body drowned out any meager noises he made, to the point that he couldn't even tell if his vocal cords had functioned.

He had never before felt more violated in all of his life, he'd never been more embarrassed, reduced to a mere infant, pissing and shitting himself.

He felt stunned, wondering when it could end, on what else might be in store.

Rage and anger burned bright at that thought, how dare this creature do this to him! He couldn't fight back right then, but sworn vengeance rushed through his mind, he'd kill it somehow, struggle and win, but time quickly eroded those thoughts, and eventually it transitioned to quiet defeat and submission.

Gulping on the tube lodged in his throat, wishing he could gag and bring it up, he would cry for it to end, and beg for his life when he could.

The tube in his throat hurt worse and worse over time, and all he began think about was how much relief he'd feel when it was finally removed.