Dream Catcher

The orange fire danced on the stove, radiating a warmth that filled the room with security and comfort.  Beside it, small bites of fresh, salted meat sat in a dish ready to be cast into the flames, while a cool cup of juice from a freshly squeezed assortment of fruits glistened in the afternoon sunlight on an empty table.  As the soothing aroma permeated throughout, it slowly drifted into the study where a Drone was peacefully sleeping.  Catching the enticing scent, its eyes flickered until it could no longer resist the urge to seek the source, finally awakening from its slumber.

Its body once crippled now felt strong, and the chaotic life of war had eroded away, settling back into the calm serenity from before.  Scars from years living in prison had disappeared, and its reddened skin returned to its natural black pigment.  The Drone was at awe from the miraculous sight, but it did not care, for all its joys had been fulfilled in that moment; it was a dream come true.  Away from the stresses of persecution, it ran over to the sizzling plate of meat and plucked a piece from the pan.  Tossing it into its jaws, the Drone savored the flavor of the delicacy it had missed for so many years, enjoying the heavenly taste of each bite.  Never had its hopes been fulfilled to such an extent, and after finishing the luscious treats, it retired to its sleeping quarters where it found the same soft bed it had lost in the war.

Leaping onto the cot, it snuggled beneath the warm covers and closed its eyes again, its mind swallowed in the bliss of luxury.  Then, almost as swiftly as the joy had consumed its body, pain and misery quickly returned.  The strength it had gained disintegrated, the gaping wounds opened once more, and its skin returned to the burgundy tinge of a starving soul.  Hoping to put an end to the nightmare it opened its eyes, but instead it awoke to the living hell it thought it had escaped.  Staring into the blinding light above, its hands were bound above its head as it lay on a cold, metal slab, blood slowly trickling from the empty socket where its left eye once was.  Thick shackles gnawed at its ankles, turning them into a pinkish, raw tint, as they held down its extremities, meanwhile the Drone could hear voices behind its head, out of view.  These were not just any voices however, the first obviously of Formic tongue, but the other was both alien, yet familiar:  it was human.  A man, and he was speaking to the Drone's captor, "The test was successful.  The images weren't corrupted and the software is working perfectly.  Now, how is our friend here holding up?"

There was a slight pause before the Formic responded, "Once we remove the transistors and wires, it will be disposed of."

As the Formic finished its remark, the human approached the Drone on the table and stood over its head.  The man wore a uniform of sorts, dressed in a thick black jacket with camouflage pants and a bullet-proof vest covering his chest.  A black helmet rattled on his head as he spoke, "Don't worry.  It'll all be over soon."  He looked away and spoke to the Formic once more, "It's all yours, Khet."

Just as the words left his lips, the Drone felt a pinch around its neck before its mind went into a chaotic frenzy, followed by darkness.