by Geoff Palmer
Yellow. Orange. Red. It took him long seconds to realise it was flames. Then the pain began. Searing. White-hot. He tried to cry out but breathed in fire. He was fire. He was ablaze from head to foot.
63 : Battlefield
‘My god, it looks like a battlefield down there,’ Crystal peered ahead through the helicopter’s Plexiglas front.
‘I’ve just picked up a transmission,’ the pilot said. He hadn’t responded to the earlier warning, but he hadn’t shut the radio off either. ‘The army are scrambling a helicopter to intercept us.’
‘Better make this quick then. Is that link up?’ she called over her shoulder.
Eric, who was practically hanging out the door with his camera, gave her a thumbs-up.
She picked up a microphone, checked it was live, took a breath and began.
A dozen kilometres away, Em and Frank Townsend stood in the lounge giving descriptions of each of the children to the policewoman. The TV was still on, the volume low, but they heard the announcement. ‘We interrupt this programme to bring you a live report from the South Island.’
Banners at the bottom of the screen read Live! and Exclusive! and Breaking News! The picture showed an aerial view of what looked like a war-torn battlefield with figures running about on it. There were explosions and incoming fire and a shiny circular object that seemed to be the focus of all the attention.
The voice-over was shouted above the thrum of a helicopter. ‘This is Crystal Starbrite reporting live, approximately twenty kilometres from the town of Rata in Southland ...’
Frank Townsend snorted. ‘That’s West Coast, you chump.’
* * *
‘Backup stabilisers coming on line.’
‘Finally! Resume the attack.’
* * *
Alkemy didn’t stop to think. She abandoned Norman and raced back as a volley of shots struck the ship. From the corner of her eye she saw its shields flicker yellow.
Tim was staggering and flailing, a flaming mass from head to foot. She headed straight towards him, ignoring the heat and the smell of burning flesh, and cannoned into him, hard, shoulder to shoulder, knocking him to ground. He fell, face forward, the flames on his front immediately smothered as she dived in beside him, rolling him quickly to smother the ones still crackling on his back.
Coral arrived seconds later with Ludokrus in tow, still blinking blearily through gritty eyes. Both gasped in shock at what they saw.
Coral clamped a hand to her mouth. The blackened shape looked barely human.
‘Who ... was it?’
Alkemy felt for a pulse. More shots landed nearby. Red-hot rocky shrapnel whizzed past them.
‘Is,’ she snapped. ‘Is Tim.’ She looked up. Judged the distance to the ship. ‘Must move him there. Quick.’
Coral turned to Ludokrus. ‘Can you manage on your own?’ He nodded and hobbled off.
For a moment, Coral was arrested by the sight of Norman Smith sitting on the ship’s extended ramp. It clearly wanted to withdraw it and kept making attempts to do so. More shots were coming in and striking its shields, but his presence was preventing it from closing up again and he rode the ramp like it was a bucking bronco.
‘Stay where you are!’ she yelled. ‘Hold on!’
Guided by Alkemy, Coral slipped her hands beneath Tim’s armpits, trying to avoid the sight of his awful burns. She hesitated, fearing that lifting him might make his injuries worse, but when a small explosion nearby pelted them with scorching rubble it helped make up her mind.
With Alkemy clutching his ankles, they half-carried, half-dragged Tim to the ship.
‘This thing’s trying to get rid of me,’ Norman said, grimly clinging to the ramp as it gave another lurch.
‘Smart ship,’ Coral snapped as three shots ploughed the ground nearby. ‘Now get out of the way!’
He scuttled ahead and they followed, dragging Tim up the smooth surface.
Inside, it was almost peaceful. Except for a warning chime and a featureless voice that intoned, ‘Non-Eltherian presences detected. Please expel.’
The ramp, which had started retracting, extended again.
‘They are friend,’ Alkemy yelled, but the ship repeated its message. As far as it was concerned, it was under attack by an unknown craft. Now, unknown creatures were swarming aboard it.
Outside, the maelstrom continued.
They carried Tim to one of the dozen gel beds arranged end-to-end around the perimeter of the craft and lowered him into the semi-liquid goo. It closed around him as Alkemy pressed a walrus-like mask to his face.
Coral remembered the gel beds from the old escape pod. The way they enclosed and protected the occupant while at the same time giving their mind access to the outside world. But mostly she remembered how they’d helped Glad Smith recover from a nasty bullet wound. Was there time to do the same for Tim?
‘Is OK to let go,’ Alkemy said gently. Coral realised she’d been holding on to his hand as if holding on to life itself.
Alkemy closed the lid.
Coral looked around and found herself in a circular space with a domed ceiling and a dished floor, all bathed in cool blue light. Inside the circle of beds was a circular seating area, itself arranged around a low but complicated-looking console where Ludokrus sat, his eyes still streaming, working the controls.
‘Non-Eltherian presences detected. Please expel,’ the ship repeated.
‘Cannot override,’ he said. ‘She will not go with you on board.’
There was a scraping sound from somewhere overhead and a red light started flashing.
‘Shield integrity twelve percent and falling,’ the ship said. ‘Evacuation recommended.’
Ludokrus banged a fist on the console. ‘Will not even go to protect herself!’
More shots came in. Rasping screeches now. The blue lights flickered. The flashing red intensified. A second alarm started. An insistent klaxon.
‘Told you,’ Norman said. ‘It really hates me.’
There was a shudder. The ship tilted. ‘Shield failure. Destruction imminent,’ the voice said calmly. ‘All personnel are advised to evacuate.’
Every shot now felt like a physical blow striking the unprotected hull.
‘What can we do?’ Coral cried. ‘We can go, but we can’t take Tim.’
Ludokrus looked at her helplessly through red-rimmed eyes.
‘Shields gone. Hull integrity twenty-two percent and falling.’
‘Ha! Look.’ Norman pointed at the console. ‘Another one.’
Coral glanced at him. He was unsteady on his feet and his words were slurred. Still concussed from the falling timbers, she guessed. What could he possibly mean?
She looked in spite of herself.
‘It’s another socket,’ she yelled. ‘Like on the receiver!’
Ludokrus squinted, still trying to focus, but Alkemy had already launched herself towards it, one hand reaching to her shirt pocket.
‘Hull temperature at critical failure point. Evacuation imperative.’
She jammed the memory bulb into the socket. For an instant, nothing happened. Then it was drawn from her fingers and vanished beneath a small sliding hatch in the top of the console. She staggered back, horrified, staring at her empty hand as the attack on the ship continued.
‘Albert! Albert!’ she wailed. ‘What have I done?’
More shots struck the hull. There was a shuddering creak from somewhere overhead, then a speaker crackled and a familiar voice said, ‘You called?’
64 : Collateral Damage
‘Hull failure imminent,’ the robotic voice intoned as another impact shook the ship, this time overlaid by the screech of tearing metal.
‘Oh do shut up,’ Albert said.
The lights went out.
For a second there was daylight from the open hatch. Then the ramp slammed shut and snuffed it out.
‘Diverting all available power to the shields,’ Albert said. ‘To the gel beds, people. Prepare for emergency take-off.’
&
nbsp; ‘We can’t even see them!’ Coral yelled back.
Four feeble lights flickered on deep inside four of the beds. They all knew what to do.
‘Counting down. Three ... two ...’
Like a team of synchronised swimmers, they dived towards the beds, each snatching a walrus mask as they went.
‘One ...’
But before they landed, the four curved couches leapt out to meet them. Four coffin-like lids slammed shut and the ship gave a tremendous, jolting, sideways lurch, followed by a vast explosive flash.
And somewhere in amongst it all someone yelled, ‘Woo-hoo!’
* * *
‘Whoa!’
The helicopter bucked in the jet-stream like a startled horse as the pilot fought for control. It was touch and go for a moment, but neither of his passengers noticed, so intent were they on the scene outside.
It was pretty fantastic, he had to admit.
The second craft turned his way now, more lumbering, less agile than the first, but still capable of a remarkable turn of speed. It shot off in pursuit.
A second jet-stream slammed into the helicopter, but he was prepared for it this time and rode it deftly.
Crystal muted her microphone and glared at him. ‘Can’t you keep this damn thing steady?’
* * *
‘Is that it?’ Tim’s voice sounded in the darkness. ‘Am I dead?’
There was a long silence. All he could hear was a ringing in his ears. He remembered the explosion right behind him, then the awful burning. But he couldn’t feel it now. Couldn’t feel a thing.
Someone groaned.
‘Hello? Anybody there?’
‘Tim?’ A groggy voice. ‘Is that you?’
‘Coral?’
‘Yeah. Are you all right?’
‘Not if I’m dead.’
‘Well you’re not.’ She hesitated. ‘Or maybe we’re all are.’
A deeper groan came from the darkness. ‘Can’t be dead. Still hurt.’
‘Ludokrus!’
‘Ship lift off before the couch is proper close. Ow!’
‘My neck hurt.’ Alkemy’s voice.
‘Oh man, I’ve got a killer headache,’ a fourth said.
‘Norman?’
‘My apologies,’ Albert’s voice cut in. ‘Diagnostics indicate you’ve sustained a number of moderate injuries from the sudden take-off, but I’m afraid I had no choice. I also note there are some more severe injuries of unknown origin. I’ll have the ship draw up a treatment plan.’
The ship’s voice said, ‘Diagnostics indicate crew members have sustained a number of moderate injuries from—’
‘Oh do be quiet,’ Albert said. ‘I just told them that. You look after the passengers while I pilot this thing.’
‘Relinquishing piloting controls to entity—’
‘Shut up, ship!’
‘Albert?’ Tim murmured. ‘I thought he was ... And who’s he talking to?’
Ludokrus laughed. ‘No need to whisper. All can hear. Alkemy plug the memory bulb into the ship and he take over. Other is ship personality. Just dumb machine, but it will look after us.’
‘Did someone shout “Woo-hoo”?’ Tim said.
‘What?’
‘When we took off. I could have sworn I heard someone yell “Woo-hoo”.’
There was a brief silence. The ship’s said, ‘Checking recordings ...’ Then added, ‘The message came from the synthesised voice of—’
‘Oh shut up, ship,’ Albert said. ‘I was merely expressing my pleasure at finally escaping that wretched planet.’
It took a moment for his words to register.
‘What?’ Tim said.
‘But ... you forget we have the passenger,’ Alkemy said.
‘I forget nothing, Alkemy. My priority is to protect you and your brother. The collateral damage was unavoidable.’
‘Collateral damage?’ Coral said. ‘We are not collateral, we’re human beings. Or at least a couple of us are.’
‘Hey!’ Norman said.
‘The choice was simple,’ Albert continued. ‘Stick around to evict the humans and lose the ship, or launch.’
‘What about leaving only footprints?’ Alkemy said.
‘This ship was under sustained attack from a Sentinel craft witnessed directly or indirectly by an unknown number of humans,’ Albert replied. ‘There has been explosive deconstruction of the Sentinel base, and sensors indicate that our departure was recorded by the occupants of a nearby helicopter. I’m afraid things are a little beyond the “leave only footprints” stage.’
‘Confirming sensor indications of the presence of—’
‘Oh shut up, ship!’ five voices chimed.
‘Besides, there are Tim’s injuries to consider. They are severe and will require considerable tissue regeneration. Should I have abandoned him?’
No one said a word to that, although the ship did manage a quick, ‘Preparing treatment plan for burn victim.’
‘Does that mean we’re in space?’ Tim said.
‘Yes. And in approximately ten hours we’ll rendezvous with our mothership. Would you like visuals?’
‘Yes, please.’
The blackness faded to a gentler sort of blackness, a blackness flecked with points of light. By turning his head — or perhaps just thinking about turning his head — Tim found he could survey the sky in all directions. It had never looked so rich, so clear, so densely packed with stars.
He heard Norman gasp.
Then he caught it himself. A movement behind them. The edge of a blue disc, instantly familiar. He turned until it filled his vision, picking out the long spine of the Southern Alps illuminated by the setting sun.
The image receded steadily, giving way to a vast expanse of ocean streaked with cloud. Tasmania and the southern coast of Australia came into view, drifting north as they soared south towards Antarctica. There, over the ice continent, a palpable shift took place as the acceleration increased dramatically. Though he couldn’t feel it cocooned inside the gel bed, he could see the effect and watched in silence as his home planet shrunk until it was little more than a bright speck in an endless sea of stars.
No one spoke for several minutes. Then Norman said, ‘But we’ve got school tomorrow.’
A note from the author
Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review, even if it's only a line or two. It can make all the difference and would be very much appreciated.
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Best wishes, and thanks for reading!
PS. Look out for the next book in the Forty Million Minutes series, The Man with the Missing Jaw, available now!
About the Author
Geoff Palmer is an award-winning novelist and technical writer
based in Wellington, New Zealand.
You’ll find him online at:
www.geoffpalmer.co.nz
On Facebook:
facebook.com/geoffpalmerNZ
On Twitter:
twitter.com/geoffpalmer
Also by Geoff Palmer
Telling Stories (a novel)
Payback
The Bluebelle Investigations Series:
Private Viewing
Private Lives
The Forty Million Minutes series:
Too Many Zeros
Lair of the Sentinels
The Man with the Missing Jaw
Non-fiction:
Reasons for NOT Writing & How to Overcome Them
Podsnap Publishing Ltd., 17 Moir Street, Mt Victoria,
Wellington 6011, New Zealand.
First published by Podsnap Publishing Ltd., 2016
Copyright © Geoff Palmer 2016
The author’s moral right has been asserted.
Apart from fair dealing for the purposes of study, research, criticism or review, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
All rights reserved.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN:
978-0-473-34891-5 (ePub)
also available in paperback under
ISBN 978-0-473-34890-8
Cover design by David Owen
www.davidowen.co.nz
v3.0
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Also by Geoff Palmer
Bluebelle Investigations
Private Viewing
Private Lives
Forty Million Minutes
Too Many Zeros
Lair of the Sentinels
The Man with the Missing Jaw
Standalone
Telling Stories
Payback
Reasons for Not Writing & How to Overcome Them
Watch for more at Geoff Palmer’s site.