General Mufon approached the panting body of the soldier, as he lay on the forest floor. This A one specimen of a fine marine, now a broken husk sobbing like a child. “Pull yourself together soldier,” the General barked. He played his torch around the surrounding area. “This section all clear sir,” reported the plucky lieutenant who had just arrived. Then he gasped at the general’s find. “It’s alright Venchenski. Get a couple of men with a stretcher, and take this soldier back to base.” Then General Mufon turned on his heels, and marched off to his command jeep.

Tonight’s report would be on his desk by O seven hundred hours. The General ran a tight ship, and his men knew it. When he took over project Blue Book, he’d had to shake down the whole operation. The General brought it in line, but now he had a fine body of men and women who could be relied on. Of course they weren’t called Blue Book any more. Not only was the operation frowned on in these times of austerity, but also few people believed in the cause these days. So while the official line was that they were disbanded, they had actually become one of the C.I.A.’s black opps. Someone obviously needed their unique skills, or just thought the resource they represented was too valuable to let go.

Back at the base the general went through his ablutions, then got his eight hours sleep before the morning paper work would call. He sat at his desk at seven reading the report. “Private Wendley went missing October third nineteen ninety-seven, from Benson air base Arizona. Then he was found February second nineteen ninety-eight, in Coconino forest Arizona. A medical shows no physical change to the body, and no devices have been surgically implanted. The private has no memory of the missing time. My recommendation is to return private Wendley to active service, after a thorough debriefing.”

“Thorough debriefing” thought the general. “Yes a full examination of the privates psyche, to see if he’s been brain washed or something. He’d get a bank of tests both psychological and hypnotic, to stretch that mind until it either snaps back in to shape. Or cracks like an egg shell, to reveal an alien plan inside.” The General had seen the reports; people went missing all the time. Lots of people disappeared, but never enough to impact on the populace. The public just put it down to earthly crime, or just plain wanting to be lost.

So when the odd one came back, they were worth studying. Why were they returned and not the others? What made them so special? All this time, and they still couldn’t solve the puzzle. It was like a jigsaw with most of the pieces missing. The General cogitated and ate his breakfast; newly arrived at O seven thirty. Bang on time.

Eight O clock sharp and he was in the morning meeting room. “Any progress on private Wendley’s psych tests?” he inquire of the staff psychologist captain Peters. “Yes sir under hypnosis he keeps repeating, back in the woods tonight we’ll shine. But when I wake him he doesn’t remember a thing.” The general pondered this. “Hmm, perhaps we need to take another look at that spot we found him. It could be a clue at last.” Turning to lieutenant Venchenski. “Detail me a squad for fifteen thirty hours. I think this could be it”, and rising the General nodded to the now standing soldiers, and left.

At the appointed time the army truck full of the best of the best, rolled through the base gates. It followed the jeep general Mufon rode in. “When we arrive at map coordinates 437 627 I want a perimeter spread. So every man can see the next.” The General informed the lieutenant, as the other kept a watchful eye on the road. “Check your torches lads.” The lieutenant now stood at the correct grid reference, and then he set them up as the general had ordered. Stood some distance back the two officers monitored the operation, while the sun sank below the tree line.

What seemed like many hours later, the lieutenant checked his watch. Only eight thirty, he hoped the general would call it a night soon. But ever vigilant, his commander had decided to do the rounds of the troops. Keep moral up and all that. Just then lieutenant Venchenski caught a blue light out of the corner of his eye. He made the mistake of turning towards it. Suddenly blinded by the intense white beam he tried to blink it away. It was coming from where the general had headed.

There were shouts from all around. Then one of his men ran blindly in to him, and they both fell over. Recovering like a well-trained soldier, the lieutenant gathered up the group. And he soon had all present and accounted for. All except the general that was.

General Mufon awoke from a dream; where he was struggling through a spider’s web. But every time he cut a strand a new one would shoot out to catch him, he felt sick. Then his eyes shot open and he felt like he was sitting on the ceiling, rather than the floor. He tried to stand, but his legs just would not hold him.

So he settled for crawling as best he could. The walls seemed to pulsate in and out, and his breathing sounded so strange. He shook his head to try and clear it, and immediately felt dizzy and nauseous. Where could he be, and then it hit him, aliens.

Those darn fiends he’d been tracking all this time, had got him first. Well he wouldn’t let them probe him with out a fight. Relaxing, he found the dizziness eased off. Then he moved slowly so not to make himself woozy. The General began to check him self for any signs; that they had already done something to him. After about half an hour of painstaking self-examination, the general sighed with relief, no new scars or anything.

Then he took a look at his surroundings. He felt much better now, perhaps he was acclimatized he pondered. He was in a vast cylinder, with hexagonal holes leading off it. The general still wasn’t sure which way was up. But moving slowly on all fours he managed to crawl about, like a fly on a wall.

It was then that he noticed the netting over each hole. He wondered if he had broken through his, to get here from one of the many holes. He tried peering in one, but could see nothing beyond the ever-shifting strands that blocked his way. Should he call out? Perhaps not he thought, better to find out as much as possible. Before he attracted any unwanted attention.

Then he spotted something, a larger hole. It was still hexagonal, but unbarred. So with painstaking concentration, he made his way over to it. Pulling him self over the rim, General Mufon was rewarded with a floor he could stand on. He stretched up and felt his muscles crack; and he gave a groan of pleasure. It felt like all his internal organs must be settling back in to place. Slowly turning he tried to look out, but a wave of nausea washed over him. The General thought, “this must be what seasickness must be like.” So turning his back on that place, he cautiously explored this new passage.

The surface was a grainy grey material. A sort of a mix between rock and metal, and must have glowed faintly, for he could discern no light source. The chamber he’d left had been of the same construction, but until now he’d not been able to register the fact. The tunnel seemed to stretch on for an eternity, and then abruptly he hit an end. It must have been a trick of the light and angles. For until he banged his nose on the end, he would have sworn it carried on forever.

Feeling the surface he discerned slight ridges and bumps. “Perhaps these creatures saw in different wavelengths.” So he began to make a mental image of the barrier. Closing his eyes helped, until he could finally make out a control pad, like a set of keys, and what he hoped was a door. “If the pad was used to unlock the door, there could be thousands of combinations.” The General knew he’d starve before he found the right one. So perhaps he should head back to try and find another exit. The thought of the feeling of nausea almost brought it back, but what else was there to do.

General Mufon turned to march right back and face the beast, but just then a noise jolted him in to action. A clunking whirring noise of door locks being opened. So flinging himself to what he hopped was the hinge side of the door, he pressed himself against the wall. As the shadows of the barrier moved, he stood obscured from what ever was passing through. Then it swung shut behind a receding figure.

It took all the general’s resolve not to make a sound. Least the alien, for alien it was would turn and see him. It must have been ten feet tall and basically humanoid, but with a large green head. It was hard to tell as it strode away, but the thing seemed to be wearing some loose fitting material, a bit like a toga. Then it was gone.

Quick thought the general it may come back. And reexamining the door, he found it had been left ajar. He must get out before the alien returned. For if it came back this way, the being was certain to see him. Prying the hatch back with his fingers, the General managed to produce enough of a gap to squeeze through. And he was thankful no prying eyes were looking back at him.

This new corridor running perpendicular to the last was an even white. Again it was lit from some unknown source. Turning back to the door he noticed a strange symbol on it, and he decided to just leave it ajar. In case he had to retreat back there. Then he started to explore this new area, ever vigilant of meeting one of its occupants.

There was an unbarred doorway on his left, and pocking his head through it the General discerned what seemed like a galley. It had tins and strange cooking implements. He went over to a shelf that held some of the larger cans. What would be catering size to him, and he pulled one down. Now he thought of it, he realized he was ravenous. So hoping what was inside was not only safe, but also edible he pulled back the ring pull. General Mufon was enveloped by a smell of cinnamon and apples, but looking inside he realized to his annoyance that the tin was empty.

Just then he noticed the script on the side of the can.Although it was still made up of the same strange symbols he had seen when he took it down, they seemed to make sense now. His head buzzed like he had just done a two-mile jog. The legend read; “Inspiration available now in human flavor. All our essence of imagination is sustainably sourced. And any humans caught, that don’t have a high enough developed imagination to suit the palette of our discerning customers, are released back in to their environment, to dream of another day. Brought to you by Percepticon limited. One hundred percent imagination, don’t accept substitutes.”

General Mufon placed the tin down, and backed out of the room. Then running back the way he came, he saw the door ajar again. But this time he could read the symbols. The General read, “Release net, maximum capacity one thousand humans.”

Pushing the door open again, he tore back up the hexagonal corridor to the other end. Bracing himself for the feeling of nausea the General dragged himself into the nearest hole. Then forcing his way through the strands, he was soon in that protective cell. Thankfully he had chosen an empty one, and then he crouched down. For what seemed like an eternity again he waited.

With a flash the General found he was lying on wet grass, with stars above him. There was a fine spray on his face, which turning his head, the General realized was a lawn sprinkler. He was twenty miles from where he had last been on Earth. And during his debriefing, he found out that a year had elapsed. But dutiful to his job the General related all the details he could recall. And then opted for early retirement. He spent his time trying to be as dull, and unimaginative as he possibly could.

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