Space humans

The detention center's alarms weren't built for human eardrums. Adam found this out the hard way when the first klaxon blast nearly knocked him sideways into Susan, who was busy prying open a maintenance hatch with a piece of rebar she'd snapped off a bench.

"You hear that?" Adam shouted over the noise, rubbing his temple. Susan didn't look up. "Yeah, and I also hear you whining about it. Either help me with this or go punch something useful." The hatch groaned open, revealing a narrow service tunnel humming with flickering purple emergency lights.

Inside, the walls were lined with what looked like gelatinous cables—standard for Zyxian architecture, which tended toward organic-looking infrastructure. Susan wiped sweat from her forehead, leaving a streak of grime. "They really thought they could keep us in a place with soft walls?"

Adam grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Bet they didn’t factor in horny, either."

Two corridors down, the first security drone found them. It hovered on anti-grav repulsors, its sleek silver body unfolding into a stun array. Susan reacted faster, swinging the rebar like a baseball bat and sending the thing spiraling into a wall with a satisfying crunch. The smell of fried circuitry filled the air. "Okay," she admitted, panting, "that was fun."

The drone’s carcass sparked ominously, casting jagged shadows across the tunnel. Susan prodded it with her foot, then bent down to rip off a still-glowing panel. "Think we can use this?" she asked, tossing it to Adam. He caught it one-handed, turning the warm metal over in his palm. "Dunno. Looks like a fancy coaster."

A distant screech echoed through the tunnel—something mechanical, but wetter, like gears chewing through meat. Adam’s grin didn’t falter. "Sounds like the welcome committee’s pissed." Susan wiped her hands on her pants, smearing drone grease across the fabric. "They’re gonna be *real* pissed when they see what we did to their fancy containment unit."

They collided into a trio of Zyxian guards—tall, willowy things with too many joints, their translucent skin pulsing with bioluminescent panic. The lead guard fumbled with its stun rod, mandibles clicking. Susan didn’t give it time to aim. She lunged, driving her shoulder into its thorax. It crumpled like wet cardboard.

Adam ducked a wild swing from the second guard, grabbed its spindly wrist, and twisted until something popped. The alien screeched, a sound like a teakettle boiling over. The third guard bolted, its long legs carrying it down the corridor with surprising speed. Susan watched it go, hands on her hips. "Aw, come *on*," she called after it. "We weren’t even done yet!"