I'm learning to hate that word. I'm not sure what 'yenda' means, but I can guss it's a little something like 'wake up', partly because it sounds a bit like 'llevantar' and partly because they keep saying it when they're zapping me to wake me up.

They use those little robot arms to do so, of course. They wouldn't dare come out from behind that window, especially not to go anywhere near me. They're afraid I'd attack them, and I'm afraid they're right. Nobody zaps me and gets away with it.

My third day here and they still can't figure out what food is. They keep handing me these plates of sandy mush for breakfast. It tastes like shit in oatmeal form, but it must be nutritious. I haven't choked down three tablespoons of it in three days, but I'm not the least bit hungry and I look healthy enough.

He jumps a little as my eyes roll to the side and focus on him. It always used to scare people back home when I would look at them without moving my head, but I never meant to intimidate them. This guy however, I wouldn't mind making shit himself. I can't help but wonder if they think I'm average. "Mazte", he says again with a slight quiver. I think he wants me to keep eating, but I don't dare say the word 'more' out loud. Who knows how many linguistic engineers they have listening, ready to study the languages of Earth.

As for now, I assume they haven't studied any human languages, seeing how they haven't tried speaking to me in any of them. I haven't said a word, either. I'm not going to help them understand us. They're not so clever as to do the same to me, though. Every now and then they send in a brave little guy to come talk to me. I killed the first one on purpose. He'd done nothing wrong, but I needed to show them that just because they had captured me didn't mean I was their bitch. Besides, I needed a body to study. If I'm going to get out of here, I'm going to have to go through a lot of them, and it would only help to understand their alien anatomy.

The others, I let talk while I listen. First I learn their words, then I learn their behavior, then I learn everything about them I can use against them.

From what I have seen, there are at least six species, all hominid in shape and ugly as hell, the biggest and tallest of which stands at about 5'5" and weighs about 120 naked. Their armor helps make them a little bigger, but it doesn't have too much affect. They're smart, all of them, but they're so fragile a bulimic sixteen-year-old girl could crush their skulls in with her bare hands. Hell, they literally caught me with my pants down and I still managed to flatten at least fifty of the little bastards before one of them got lucky enough to shoot my shoulder out. It would be at least a week before I'd be in good enough condition to fight my way out.

Which shouldn't be too hard. For such a technologically advanced race, their weapons are surprisingly primitive. Their main infantry weapons are a form of chemically powered ballistic projectile weapon, aka guns. Mostly rifles as far as I can tell, though I did notice a few that resembled sub-machine guns.

It's also obvious they don't recognize the use of melee weapons, considering how strong they are, it only makes sense that they would prefer to fight from a safe distance. They took the time to strip me of every firearm I had, but neglected to remove my knives. One a simple pocket knife, the other a titanium-steel combat blade. Rust proof, sharp, and nearly indestructible. For all I know, it could carve through that hot as shit energy shield they had to replace the glass window with the first time I broke it. But using it would have to wait.

Their ships are unarmed as far as I can tell, but they are fully capable of faster-than-light travel, and I have no idea what method they use or how they pull it off, but they do. For shits and giggles, they led me outside last night and showed me a diagram of the Sol system. Then they pointed to the sky. They wanted me to see Sol, to see my sun as a distant star. They wanted to show me how far I was from home, and convince me that I would never be able to go back. They wanted to scare me. It worked.

Without their aid, or a better understanding of their technology, I'll never go home. The little guy that wakes me up has a habit of leaving the mic on while he talks to all his friends here in the office, and I haven't the heart to correct him. Perfect, I'll sit here and listen.

"Raksha" he says, and I can't help but laugh under my breath. I've figured out it means 'human' in their language. In Sanskrit, it means 'demon'.

Ha, I am the demon.