Somewhat Alien: The Station (Terran Trilogy Book 2)

by Sheron Wood McCartha

  Merek’s stomach jumped into his throat as the helio plummeted into a narrow valley, then leveled off to brush over the tops of dense firs and pines. Even his space walk with a bomb hadn’t frightened him this badly. Of course, he’d been in control then. Merek hated not having control in a dangerous situation.

  The helio climbed higher and shot through another opening, then slowed, affording Merek an opportunity to inhale. After living his life inside a space ship, the size of the mountains, the intense green of the trees, the heaviness of the gravity, all stunned him.

  He didn’t have time to dwell on his surroundings, however, because the helio dipped through a narrow gorge and into a thick forest to land abruptly in a small clearing.

  “Okay. We climb a mountain now.”

  Merek surveyed the area and noted that the helio was perched precariously on the side of an immense mountain, but its location was hidden by dense trees and brush.

  “Grab your climbing gear,” Angel said. “And don’t forget the nose plugs.”

  Merek groaned. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time.” He collected a backpack consisting of ropes, pulleys, and extra clothes along with several plastic coveralls. Angel exited the craft attired in a black rubberized suit just like his, his face sealed inside an oxygenated mask. Merek gave Angel a thumbs-up signal and jumped out.

  The heavy gravity hit him like a landslide. Merek lifted his eyes to the mountain's peak and paused, but ahead of him, Angel was already moving through the underbrush. If he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life on a mountainside, he’d best get moving. They had agreed to use radio transmissions only in a dire emergency so as not to alert the enemy and employ hand signals to communicate. Merek wondered how Angel was going to find a way into the base. The mountain was massive, but the Enjelise moved as if a homing beacon lodged inside of Richard.

  Reaching a steep cliff, they attached themselves together with rope and began a vertical climb upward. It wasn’t long before Merek was breathing heavily from exertion. The weight of gravity began taking its toll on his weakened body.

  Angel looked back down to wave at him, then pointed to an almost invisible cleft in the mountainside.

  Nodding, he watched Angel disappear. As he approached the area, he felt a strong tug and was yanked into a small cave. Grabbing for purchase, his gloved hands slid on a slimy substance that coated the rocks inside.

  “Ugh.” His face mask muffled the exclamation.

  Angel put a finger in front of his mask, signaling silence. He handed Merek a plastic coverall to put on over his suit. Both donned the extra protection.

  Working his fingers into small cracks, Merek pulled himself upright as Angel reeled in the rest of the rope. Nevertheless, when Merek tried to walk, his feet slipped on the muck that coated the cave’s uneven ground. He steadied himself against a clean outcropping and gingerly lifted one boot, then another, to shake off the dripping ooze. He took careful steps, not wanting to fall against the sharp wall of rock. Up ahead, Angel tapped in pitons for another vertical ascent inside the cave. Craning his neck upwards, Merek saw the hole where they dumped their sewage. The whole operation appeared crude but effective.

  Advancing rapidly, Angel reached a chute with an entry into the cave, then abruptly flattened against the wall. Just below, Merek looked up, hearing voices. Before he could find shelter, a shower of refuse rained down on him.

  He froze, hoping the darkness and his black attire would hide him. He couldn’t tell what the mess was and didn’t want to know. It was all he could do not to groan as unknown garbage dripped all over him. The voices continued but drifted away.

  “Ack.” He wiped the distasteful gunk from his coverall and shook a filthy fist at the perpetrators.

  Angel threw him a rope, which he tied around his waist and used the guides threaded through the pitons to help him ascend next to the chute. Angel vanished as Merek approached the disposal site.

  Pulling himself up, Merek paused to peer into a man-made corridor. Voices still argued in the distance. Then a hand seized him and jerked him into a nearby room.

  Shelves with cleaning supplies and miscellaneous pieces of equipment lined the walls of a large storage closet. Next to him, Angel peeled out of his plastic coverall and began bundling it up.

  Merek took off his helmet, then nose plugs, and an eye-watering stench assaulted him. Angel hastily retrieved a plastic bag from his pocket and stuffed the offending coverall into it. Tapping Merek’s shoulder, Angel pointed to the bag. But Merek was already stripping as fast as he could and shedding his splattered outfit. Rolling it up, he handed it to Angel.

  Angel pushed his mask up on his head. He stuck his head out of the storage room, disappearing for a moment and returning without the bag.

  He wrinkled his nose. “Alysians stink,” he whispered.

  Merek nodded in agreement. “How do we find the hostages?”

  “Follow me, but keep your eyes open. I’ll take point while you guard our rear.” Angel slid open the panel door and surveyed the area. He waved them forward.

  Different voices argued nearby. Somebody struck furniture or a wall, while another person stomped around. Merek leaned close to a partially opened door.

  “They’re stalling. They think they can track our signal, but they can’t.”

  “It hasn’t been that long, boss. They’re trying to come up with an answer to our demands.”

  “Maybe. I still think they’re stalling.”

  “I could make a video of the prisoners if you think that would hurry things along.”

  Furniture creaked. “Aaah, I’m not in that much of a hurry. I just wonder why I feel like they’re stalling.”

  Angel waved him past the open door and then joined up with him. “Hurry,” he murmured.

  ***

  In their holding cell, Jacoby leaned forward, his forehead pressed against the bars.. “Something’s happening out there.” He swung around with worried eyes.

  Trace rose to his feet and Richard trailed after. A yelp sounded outside, followed by a thud. All three crowded at the barred window. Richard pushed forward, edging out Jacoby. He felt Trace working his way in from the left.

  A shadowy face smiled at him from the other side, soon joined by a second dark form. Golden eyes peering out from a black hood gave the Enjelise away.

  “Why, hello.” Merek grinned at Richard. “Imagine meeting you here. We found keys on that unconscious fellow. Interested in leaving this fine establishment?”

  “We don’t have time for big hellos.” From behind, Angel grumbled as he unlocked the heavy metal door. He scanned the corridor. “Who can pilot a shuttle?” He gazed in question at them.

  Deafening silence.

  “No one? Then we do this the hard way.”

  “Please no.” The usually stoic Merek appeared upset at this sterling plan.

  “Put these on and hurry.” Angel thrust wads of plastic at them that unfolded into coveralls. “And gloves.” He tapped Merek who reached into a pocket and brought forth several pairs of rubber gloves. Angel and Merek suited up. Richard, Trace, and Jacoby followed their lead.

  When they were done, Angel handed out small pieces of rubber. “Nose plugs. Use ‘em if you need them. You most probably will.”

  “I’m becoming concerned about this plan of yours,” Richard commented as he eyed the nose plugs.

  “Oh, you have no idea,” Merek muttered.

  Ignoring Merek, Angel continued, “Okay, we’re clear for the moment, but that may not last. Is there any other lesser used corridor that runs past the kitchen area?”

  Trace shrugged. “Not that I know.”

  “Anyone?” Angel’s eyes swept the ridiculous looking group.

  Plastic rustled as heads shook back and forth.

  “Stick close. This could get dangerous.” Angel waved them forward.

  Dangerous. Richard began to sweat, his nervous hands shaking as he patted the rustling outerwear. All he’d wanted was some specif
ic information to make this all worthwhile, but his plan had turned more dangerous than anticipated.

  Angel pointed down the corridor. “We’ll go back the way we came in. Follow me.”

  “Can we find out who else is working with Cadwell?” Richard figured this was his best shot to get that information, but both Angel and Merek stared at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “Maybe we could search one of the main offices?”

  Leaning into Merek, Angel said in a whispery voice, “I think I heard that redheaded guy mention kneecapping someone to get them to cooperate.”

  Merek lowered his eyebrows, appearing a bit puzzled, and then his face cleared and the brows rose. “Yeah. He did. He mentioned Richard’s name if I remember correctly.”

  Trace turned to Richard and in a low intense tone said, “If you want to stay and poke through someone’s office, be my guest, but I want to get the hell out of here.”

  “Okay. Just a passing thought.” Richard waved them forward. “You’re the one always wanting intel, Trace.”

  Angel took point while Jacoby guarded their backs. In the middle, Richard noticed that Merek kept a firm grip on his arm as if he were a two-year-old toddler.

  They came to an entrance panel that started to open just after they passed. All five flattened against the wall and held their breath. Angry shouting from inside spilled out into the corridor. “I don’t care what that pompous woman demands.” It sounded like Theo Cadwell. “That comet crippled the D’Ankanque, and she has little say as far as I’m concerned. We’ll finish a base there and she’ll like it. The ships won’t talk to her, but they’ll talk to me. Tell her to go….” The words were shut off as the panel slammed shut.

  Angel frantically gestured them forward as he slapped metal objects along the wall. He began counting.

  They hadn’t gotten far when the door opened again and a voice shouted, “Hey, who’s in the corridor?”

  “Run!” said Merek, leaping forward and practically pulling Richard’s arm out of its socket.

  Lights flashed on. “The prisoners are escaping.”

  A shot fired behind Richard. Up front, Angel stood next to the disposal unit, fastening ropes to a hook, and dropping lines into the chute. Then he rolled grenades down the corridor.

  Several more shots echoed in the area.

  He heard Jacoby cry out, “Help, I’ve been hit.”

  At the same time, Richard felt something strike his leg and rip open part of his protective gear. He gazed down to see a bloody gash.

  “I’m hit,” he cried as sharp pain kicked in.

  Merek glanced at the bleeding wound. “You’ll live, but not if we don’t get out of here right now.”

  Ahead of them, Trace slowed and turned toward Jacoby and took a step, but Angel grabbed him, yanked him around, and pushed him forward.

  Back down the corridor, a squad of guards caught up to Jacoby and surrounded him. They looked up and shot at the remaining escapees. A gun fired and chips flew off the wall in front of Richard, leaving pockmarks as sharp bites of pain splattered across his face. That was all the encouragement he needed. Merek picked up a rope and leaped down the chute. Richard jumped after, grasped Merek around the neck, and held on for dear life.

  “You’re choking me.”

  Richard dangled from Merek neck, trying to maintain a firm grip as the guard slid down the line. Even so, his fingers began slipping. He tried to maintain his hold, but the slimy substance wouldn’t allow it. He plunged into a black abyss. Invisible walls, too dark to see, tore at his suit as he tumbled by. He knew the ground was coming up fast, and he prepared himself to crash painfully onto rocks. Instead, a mound of unknown material and a pillow of foul smelling plastic squished beneath him, cushioning his fall. Merek rappelled down from above. Before Richard could complain, Merek appeared beside him, pulled him up by the arm, and dragged him, half running, half sliding, through rotting garbage toward a crack of daylight.

  Up above, Angel dangled on a rope as Trace frantically slid down. Angel lobbed several explosives out into the corridor and followed Trace down the rope.

  A series of explosions rang out, echoing off the overhead walls. Angel landed next to Trace and scrambled over slippery rocks.

  “Run for all you’re worth!” Angel shouted. “She’s going to blow!”

  They popped out into a fading sun, trying to run on shaky legs and uneven ground.

  Angel gestured past tall brush to an area where a crouching helio awaited. “Get in.” Angel leaped to the controls. Blades began whirling overhead.

  Richard stumbled into the back as Merek pushed Trace in, then climbed in the front, slamming his door shut.

  Richard saw the cave’s opening quiver as a volley of explosions blasted rocks and waste outward. But by then, the helio had cleared the trees. Slipping the craft sideways, Angel dove through a split between mountains, leaving the base behind in a haze of billowing debris.

  The sharp angle of the helio caused Richard to roll into Trace, who roughly shoved him back.

  “Frag, you stink!” he shouted.

  Chapter 30

  Aftermath of a rescue

  The helio soared toward Tygel airport as the tower cleared all local airways for the incoming craft. In the helio, Richard held on to his seat with white knuckles and tried to calm his protesting stomach. They had dumped the coveralls out of a window, but the stench lingered. “Before I meet with anyone, I need a long, hot shower,” he exclaimed.

  “With industrial grade soap.” Trace’s green face nodded in agreement.

  Richard peered out the window as they touched down. “Oh, frag. Look who’s here to greet us.”

  Trace groaned. “It’s father and…”

  “Elise.” Richard choked and slid down in his seat. “Don’t let her know I’m here. I don’t want her to see me.”

  Merek twisted around from the front, revealing a wicked grin. “Don’t you mean smell you?”

  “Get ready, guys.” Angel hopped out and opened the back door as an entourage surged forward.

  Richard stumbled out directly into the path of Elise.

  Elise stared at his face. “You’re hurt.”

  He reached up to wipe his cheek and his hand came away bloody. “And I got shot too.” He pointed at the ripped coverall. Thankfully the bleeding had stopped, but dried blood stained the fabric. Possibly he could play the invalid, and maybe she would overlook the awful stink.

  She stepped back as the full impact of the eyewatering odor hit her. “You smell! Where have you been?”

  John Armstrong kept a distance and waved to Trace as he stepped out of the helio. “Welcome back, son. We feared for your safety, but I’ll forego the hug if you don’t mind.”

  Trace’s face paled and his step faltered. “Todd Jacoby is dead. He died a hero’s death.”

  Armstrong paused and Trace bowed his head.

  “I’ll miss him.” Richard glanced over at Trace. “It will be a long time before they can mount another attack. My guess is that we saved a lot of lives, both Terran and Alysian. Even so, it was a steep price to pay. He was a good man.”

  “Well, he helped accomplish it,” Trace acknowledged.

  Richard turned to John. “We now have a better picture as to who’s behind all this. You’ll find it interesting.”

  The president clapped his hands. “Before we do that, let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can talk.”

  “Good idea.” Elise wrinkled her nose. “You’ll need those wounds looked after, too.”

  They headed for the palace… but in separate cars.

  ***

  Feeling a lot better after a shower and a strong dose of pain medicine, Richard accepted tea in President Armstrong’s office suite. Eventually, the pain from the shallow wound subsided, his stomach settled, and his thoughts coalesced into something more coherent. Next to him, Trace’s face assumed a more normal color, except for the fine blackening ring around one eye and the edge of his cheek. His complexion may have r
eturned to normal, but he remained quiet. Richard wondered what had occurred between father and son while he had been cleaning up.

  Richard also sensed an awkwardness between Merek and Mika. Angel also sat silent, but then he usually offered little in these discussions.

  A server passed a plate of sandwiches around. Richard discovered a returning appetite and took a chicken salad. Elise nibbled on a half while Merek shook his head at the food. Trace appeared to be considering but hesitated.

  Between bites, President Armstrong asked, “How did Cadwell’s people know you were on the shuttle?” He tipped back in a finely embroidered chair and furrowed his brow.

  Finally, deciding to eat, Trace reached out for a sandwich. He selected cheese with mustard, eyeing it with trepidation. “There’s a manifest of cargo on all incoming and outgoing shuttles,” he said. “Including passengers.”

  “You knew the trip would be public knowledge?”

  Trace glanced at his father. “Someone would have to go to a lot of trouble to find out who was on board.”

  “You didn’t plan to be captured, did you?”

  Richard jumped in, “Fate, no.” With a sideways glance at Elise, he added, “What sort of idiot would want to be kidnapped by terrorists?”

  Trace stopped chewing. “Yeah, what a dumb idea.”

  Frown lines appeared on Elise’s face. She squinted at Richard with suspicion.

  Angel rolled his eyes and took another bite of sandwich. At least he didn’t comment out loud.

  Elise darted a look over at Merek who also wore a puzzled expression but remained still.

  “Moving along…” Trace shifted in his seat. “I believe Madam DeGuiole, Prime Matron from the D’Ankanque, is involved. We overheard them mention building a base there.”

  “One of the guards complained about Islian soldiers hanging around. As hard hit by the comet as Islia was, they’d be interested in gaining a fertile piece of the Democratic Union’s northern border to cultivate.” Richard wiped his hand on one of the napkins and gingerly scratched at a cut on his face. Despite the drugs, his leg still throbbed and his face now itched. Also, the constant tension of the last few days was catching up to him. He yawned.