Max

         Max had done it. He had finally landed himself the dream job he had been chasing for years, and was on his way  to Seattle to begin. The road that lead to him kissing Sandra and his two beautiful daughters, six and four years old, good-bye on a wisconsin porch that morning had been long and paved with thorns and potholes. It would all pay off in two months though, when he moved them out to Seattle with him.

         He was looking forward to finally settling down. Sandra deserved it, for sure. She had married him while he was still enlisted, and put up with the long hours, worked weekends, detachments, and deployments. The constant reuniting and separation took a toll on Max, and he struggled with alcoholism until Sandra convinced him to start attending AA meetings.

         After five long years in the Marines they both had had enough, so he got out, and went to school. There were more late nights spent studying, with which the arrival of his second daughter didn’t help. Another five years and he graduated with a degree in Aerospace engineering. The last year he had worked at a local company overseeing repairs for aircraft, but now, at long last, he was hearing to the west coast to design them. The salary was decent, and he was looking forward to finally having some time to spend with his wife and family.

         It had been beautiful morning when he had wrapped his arms around each one in turn, kissing his daughters on the forehead before climbing into the seat of his battered old Ranger.



         “I love you Max,” his wife said as she stuck her head though the driver’s window for her kiss.



         “I love you more,” winked Max as he leaned over to plant smooch on her lips.



         “Drive safe.”



         “I’ll call when I get there. Take care!” He called as he backed the truck down the driveway. She returned his wave until he had rounded the corner.



         The sky was that of a brilliantly clear fall day as he left. Squadrons of geese in formation flecked the sky as the sun glinted off the bug shield on his hood, warming the cool morning air and making his arm burn comfortably against the door as he hung it out the window. Flying across the bridge into Minnesota he felt his joy swelling, as if he had left the chaos, late nights, and red accounts on the bank behind him; and he was crossing to a satisfying job, peaceful life and stability on the other. By the time he was half way across South Dakota he felt like he was about burst, like he was a rocket blasting the joy of finally being free from the Earth’s gravitational grip. He grinned and felt like nothing could bring him down, despite the ominous clouds that were blacking out the sky in front of him.



         By the time he left Dickinson, North Dakota, the weather was at the complete opposite spectrum from that morning. He remembered his hands cramping from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel, and having to slow down at times because he could barely see the road. The constant thuk-thuk-thuk as the wipers dried franticly to clear the rain from his vision matched the pounding of his heart. He was hoping his little truck wouldn’t get squashed by a semi that didn’t see his dim lights plodding along, and then-



         His bladder felt like someone was standing on it. There was an ache; a throb from deep behind his eyes that was quickly making him feel nauseous. A draft was creeping it’s frigid tendrils up from his toes where he lay, bringing his nudity to his attention. He fought to open his eyes; his lids feeling as if they had been glued to his eyeballs. He made to raise his hand, to peal his eye open, but-  It wouldn’t move.

         Adrenaline poured into his system. He could feel the blood vessels in his muscles spring open, flooding them with nutrients and the oxygen he was pulling from his deepening breaths. His eyelids tore themselves free with newfound strength and he glanced down to see…

         Nothing. The room was as dark as a collapsed mine shaft. He felt his heart pounding blood through his arms, his hands, legs, into his frigid feet, but try as he might, nothing would move. He was paralyzed in everything below his jaw.

          Light suddenly flooded the room, blinding him. He groaned and squinted his eyes, the brilliance somehow still breeching his eyelids. It was like the hangover from hell…

         Somewhere behind him he heard what sounded like a large window sliding open, followed by muffled footsteps.



         “Hospital,” he told himself, “I must be in a hospital. I wrecked.”



         Something, or someone, leaned over him, and he sensed the light being blocked. He opened his eyes expecting to see a nurse, or maybe an orderly or a doctor.

         But not a dog. And certainly not a dog in a flight suit. He watched it’s eyes take him in, scanning him from his toes up until it met him eye to eye. Max didn’t know what to do. It was almost too much to take in, so he muttered the one thing he could think of:



         “Can’t… move.”



         The dog turned to the side and said something. The noises were strange, guttural, yet as they bounced around inside his head they formed meaning. Max was beyond confusion, this had to be just a dream.



         “What did he say?” the dog asked.



         There was a voice from somewhere else in the room, also speaking in the same guttural sounds. Again they seemed to bounce around inside his head, and again they formed meaning:



         “He’s speaking his native language. Here.”



         Pain erupted through Max’s body, searing through his skin, his bones, seeming to burn him to the very marrow. He tried to scream, but his lungs wouldn’t work. Instead they continued to inhale as if nothing were happening. Just as suddenly it was over, and the voice returned.



         “You will speak the standard language. The one you hear now. Your native speech is forbidden.”



         Max felt a strange urgency to comply. Was it the pain? He felt like it needed to be done… or he’d surely die. Still anyone who spoke like that to him should-



         “Watch your family suffer and die slowly.” Max replied.



         Pain erupted again, and this time, Max let out a weak wail.



         “You are an ehrak to Morlo, captain of the Orris military freighter, and you will respect the way you treat your masters.”

         Again the feeling returned, placing importance on respect. Max was sure it wasn’t the pain this time, but he found the urge surprisingly hard to resist. He decided to follow his military training on respect:

         “With all due respect, sir, my ‘master’ is the great creator. You are some prick with an ego and a small dick… Sir.”



There was something he interpreted to be a sigh, and then the voice spoke again.



“Some are more strongly willed than others sir. Unfortunately we don’t know what their behavior will be like until they wake up. And since you requested something with no previous exposure… If you want, we can exchange him for something more pliable. I’m sure a collector would still take him, or-“



“He’ll do.” Said the dog.



“You’re sure? I can have a trainer-”



“I’ll handle him,” replied the dog again, this time he was staring Max in the eyes.



“Well, if your sure, sir. Still, if you change your mind before you leave let me know. Also, there’s a few places in the mall that sell training aids and information you might find useful… It was good to do business with you.”



The dog waved a paw (hand?), “You did business with the military. They’re the one that decided the purchase and paid for it. If I have any problems I’ll let you know.”



Max heard more footsteps and the door close again. The dog leaned over, still staring him in the eyes.



“My name is Morlo, and I am your master. I know you are upset, and I really don’t blame you. The reality is, though, that neither of us can do anything about it- believe me, I want you just as much as you want me right now. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, or you will soon, so I’ll do my best to answer them now. You can’t move because I haven’t allowed you to yet. You have been implanted with something that interfaces with your brain, and its changed a few things: As you all ready know it can be used to make you feel pain. It allowed you to be trained with the standard language we use. I can allow you to move or not. It will make you obey and reward you for doing so. It will not allow you to lie or hurt me or your self…”



He fell silent for a few moments, then “and I think that’s it. You are in your cell aboard my ship, the Orris. This is your home now, where you will sleep, and where your will live unless you are needed. I need to go finish my business, so we will resume our training when I return.”



Max wanted to bite the bastards nose off, but he remembered the pain, was witnessing the new language, and more than anything feared the rest of what Morlo said was true as well. The dog stood tall again, and he heard footsteps towards the door.

         “I will allow you to move after I leave the room.” Morlo’s voice continued. “Please behave,” he said, in a tone that almost sounded like pleading, “It will make this so much easier on both of us.”



         “Live-“ began Max in english.



         “What was that?”



         “I said,” replied Max in the new language, “Live Free or Die.”



         He didn’t know it at the time, but the words were liquid nitrogen down Morlo’s back. “You will never, ever utter that sentence again. Understand?”



         Max couldn’t stop the words as the welled up from his throat, bringing tears as he realized the impossibility to stop them.



         “Yes sir.”