Silent Death part 4
The ladies hoped that Iminasi had managed to get the point across to the human. She had a wonderful voice and seemed to have picked up the tune beautifully. When the human did little more than look from her to them and return nothing but a perplexed expression, they started chattering at each other, again.
"Do you suppose he's still a little disoriented from being brain scanned?"
"I think we may be scaring him."
"Poor little thing, maybe he needs a hug."
"Should we give him with a sweet?"
"I think... hey, what's he doing?"
Ceasing their gabbling, they turned their attention back to the human.
The human had gotten a drink from the water bottle attached to the side of his enclosure and took a deep breath.
Having wet his whistle, Winchell took a breath and stood in the center of his cage. These ladies obviously wanted a song and weren't likely to go away without one, so decided to give them one.
Besides, he thought, if this plays out well, they may do something I can use to get out of here.
Opening his mouth, he began singing.
What cam out of the human was... different. It wasn't the swift, lively melody of Figaro, nor was it the somber drone of some of the other songs he had hummed. It was a bit disjointed, but jaunty. As the song continued, the Alareen picked out a rhythm and smiled as nodded to each other, realizing that it could be danced to and was rather amuse, even if they couldn't understand the words.
After the first, the human went on to several more, all in the same vein.
Starting with a Bing Crosby show tune ('Pistol Packing Momma'), he continued into a couple Sinatras, then They Might Be Giants version of 'Istanbul'. He was about to go into Weird Al Yankovich's 'This Is The Life', when one of the Alaerin reached for the trapdoor on his enclosure and opened it. Urged on by the others, she gave him a bright smile and reached in, holding her hand stationary and coaxing him with snicking sounds to let her pick him up. Score!
Wrapping her hand gently around the human, Iminasi lifted him from his cell and held him in her palm. Gathering around, the others tentatively reached out to stroke, poke, and caress him along his body. The human put up with it patiently and showed no sign of discomfort from the attention, but finally she waved her free hand at the others.
"Let's give him a little space. Maybe he'll sing for us again."
"Something sad and mellow, I hope, "put in the younger, new addition to the staff from the door.
"Patemi! Watch for the supervisor!" one of the other half-whispered. Too late, as the sound of the office door opening could be heard from the work area. In a half-panic of being discovered, they dashed for their desks while Iminasi hurriedly but carefully put the human back in his enclosure, closing the trapdoor. Giving him an apologetic look, she scrambled back to her own work.
Left alone again, Winchell sat still for a while, recovering from the vertigo of having
been swung about so quickly. No doubt about it, these giantesses would make excellent centrifuges. Once he'd gathered his wits, he looked up at the trapdoor and grinned. It was closed, but the latch had not been slid back into the lock position. Having attained a general feel for the building's layout from being taken to and from being interrogated, he had his route of escape.