They came out of nowhere, in the middle of the night like ghosts. That's what we thought they were at first. Ghosts, or demons, or something else from that frightening paranormal world we all hope doesn't exist.

Now we know better. They were far more dangerous than demons.

Their advanced transportation systems allowed them to move quickly and quietly, and their localized microwave ion weapons fried any living thing from the inside out. I remember the day they got my mother, she smoked and bloated then BANG!

The morbid explosion splattered the walls with red hot guts.

Within a week every adult I knew was dead and the kids were being rounded up in huge convoys. They corralled us into large cages made of some sort of metal I'd never seen before. Paraded us back and forth in front of the ones who dressed in glittering gold and brightly dyed fabrics.

Every once in a while, a glutinous upperclassman would raise either their left index finger or their right. At least . . . I assumed they were index fingers. Once a finger was raised, a kid would go off in the direction indicated.

It came to be my turn to pass by and the biggest and meanest looking of the golden ones stood from his chair. He stared at me with his eye and grinned, then raised his right finger.

What did that mean? What awaited me on the right?

My more sinewy captors pushed me away and I was taken into the arms of new, meaner looking guards. They brought me to a room with hundreds of other kids, we were packed so tightly we were forced to stand with our shoulders touching.

"I'm Peter." one of the boys was saying, trying to find a friend, trying to find comfort. He was crying and lost. The sad and pathetic weakling prisoner of a ruthless race of high-tech barbarians.

Our clothes were taken from us, and we were sprayed with something that resembled soapy water, but smelled like rotting meat.

The aliens barked what I assumed were orders, but their language was more like a series of grunts and squeals than words. Then we were left alone to drip dry and shiver and cry.

Right after that the training began. We received uniforms that seemed like they'd been made of some sort of half liquid plasma. They clung to our bodies and made us invulnerable, we were taught how to fight, forced to learn or suffer a painful death.

We were beaten into submission, put into the front lines of countless wars as our captors struggled against their enemies for universal power.

That was years ago, now I'm an adult and I've shoved most of those memories deep inside me. I wield my own Ion pistol like I was born with it and I've even mastered that primitive sounding language. I've made my way to the highest ranks possible for a slave soldier, became a part of the High Admiral's personal envoy. The High Admiral. The golden one who found his feet as I stood quaking in front of him.

"I knew the moment I saw you." He told me one day in his native language. "That you were built to be a soldier. That after you were broken I'd be able to put all my trust in your loyalty."

"Of course." I nodded and he touched my face.

"I've never been more proud, you're almost like my own offspring."

I remained stoic and reserved, he tossed some food on the floor and grinned, inviting me to eat. I squatted and began to pick at the meat, ever the obedient subordinate.

"Permission . . . permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Of course, of course, what is it?"

"I've been thinking --"

He laughed. "You know thinking isn't a thing you're good at."

I remained silent for a moment, picking at the dusty food. "When we came here," I finally said, "you sent us off in two directions . . . I went right . . . what happened to the ones who went left?"

He chuckled again, putting a hand on his swollen belly. "Well we can't expect you all to train so vigorously without feeding you, can we?"

I stopped eating and looked down at the meat on the floor. I looked at my fingers and stood up straight. "You mean . . . this is a person?"

"Don't be silly, we've moved on to different species by now. The human stock lasted just long enough to get you and your fleet through the training process." He stood up and turned to leave. "Now finish up there and get back to the barracks. Bunk inspection is in half an --"

He stopped speaking as his insides churned and bubbled. He turned to look at me as the beam from my weapon broke and my eyes filled with hot rage.

The High Admiral's fishy mouth gaped as he tried to breathe. His already big body expanded, tearing the seams of his fine clothing. I shook and stared and fired again. He popped like a bug under a shoe and I was sprayed with blue green entrails. I heard sirens and alarms and thanked God for my training. The guards filtered in and I landed a kick against the closest one's head. I fired on another and another, dodging blasts of highly focused microwaves which destroyed the furniture around me.

I tripped a big one and he fell into his comrades. I fired on them, pop, again and again, pop, pop. Not a single centimetre of my flesh wasn't covered in alien remains. I fired and screamed and raged as the bits of bodies piled up around me. How many did I kill? Twelve? Thirteen? That was when a heavy foot sent my weapon flying through the air, then slammed into my skull. I fell back and the foot pressed against my chest.

"Peter!" I said, in English. It made him hesitate. "Don't do this. We don't need to be here, we can get out. You and me."

"You killed the High Admiral."

"I had to! Don't you see? They've blinded us, taken our freedom away and we just let them!"

"You KILLED the High Admiral!" He repeated. "You have to die."

The beam hit me square in the chest. I felt the intense heat as my body temperature sky rocketed.

"They . . . they were feeding us the children from the left."

Peter sneered and kicked my ribs, the pain was intensified by the aching heat rising inside of me. "You think I didn't know that? We owe them our lives! They could have killed us too you know, but they didn't. In fact, they gave us a new life, a more exciting one!"

Peter laughed as my body expanded. I tried to speak but my throat had swollen shut, there were flashes of light in my eyes and I felt my skin splitting as blood bubbled out of my pores before -- POP!