by B. V. Larson
Scowling, he took the bait.
“Try to focus your mind for a moment. “They’ve demonstrated they can move small, soft objects with their tech. Things such as meat, bones, fabric and a few technological items. But we hadn’t seen any evidence indicating they can move anything big.”
“I don’t see what…”
“Viper is a large warship,” Fillmore told me unhelpfully. “Yet we’re able to move it all—the hardware and the crew. Metals, alloys—all the dangerous stuff. Oh, and news flash: Once we moved Fairweather to a central location as I suggested, the power necessary for a PDM jump was minimized. We could have jumped ten times as far now that the projector is in the sweet spot.”
I couldn’t believe we were alone, and he was trying to take credit for my idea.
“Hmm,” I said. “It is true that I’ve only seen our visiting friends in robes. It would use far less power to move only an individual even if they were able to move something more dense and mechanized.”
“Exactly. If the aliens could have moved sophisticated hardware—like a bomb, for instance—I figure they would have done it by now. After all, spilling dirt out of a spaceship is a lot more elaborate than teleporting a bomb.”
“So… if they’d wanted to wipe us out, they could have done that from the start by transporting a nuclear weapon into the middle of our lab?”
“You’ve got it now. Imagine: Boom! No more project. No more pesky humans scratching to get out of their Sphere.”
“Then why haven’t they done it?”
“Either they can’t travel with something as sophisticated as a bomb, or they want to take something from us intact.”
I thought about that. What if they were limited in what they could transport through the Sphere? What if they kept popping up in robes because that was the best they could do?
There was a big dangerous difference between manipulating beings and the scary machines built by them. It seemed obvious that if any matter could be moved in a bubble with our tech, then a smaller bubble would move pieces of it with destructive results.
They wanted to get our knowledge, and they weren’t playing nice to get it.
The real gravity of the mission hit me like a ton of bricks, but I wasn’t shying away from it.
“Gray, are you even listening to me?” Fillmore demanded.
Before I could respond, the whole ship shuddered under us, and then once more.
“Is Jessup shooting at something?” I asked.
Without waiting for an answer, I pushed past Fillmore and contacted Logan, asking him the same question.
“He’s shooting,” Logan confirmed. “We got a warning from Cmdr. Collins. Viper has fired on an enemy vessel.”
Deciding it would be best to give my objections in person, I rushed back up to the bridge. Viper wasn’t moving at full acceleration now, so the trip was relatively easy to make.
When I got to the command deck, I looked around at all the grim faces.
Lt. Fletcher was there, with her two operating assistants, but Cmdr. Collins was the first to catch my eye. He shook his head, suggesting I don’t bother Jessup right now—but I moved onto the bridge anyway.
“Allie,” Jessup said. “Are the missiles still on target? I want a definite kill this time.”
“Yes sir… they’re homing in. The targeting solution is virtually inescapable. After all—she’s just a miner, and she’s drifting.”
Allie slid her eyes to meet mine, then looked back down at her instruments. I got the feeling she wasn’t happy about the situation.
“Uh… Captain Jessup?” I asked.
He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Chief Gray? You do get around, don’t you? What is it now? This is a combat situation, and I’d appreciate it if my crew had the bridge to themselves.”
“I’m sorry sir,” I said. “But I was informed we’ve fired on the mining ship—is that true?”
“Damn straight it is. That ship almost destroyed Viper, and the rebels aboard must be put down.”
“Is there any way you can self-destruct that missile, Captain?”
He slowly rotated his body around to face me. His eyebrows rode high in surprise. “A bleeding heart, Chief? A believer in the sanctity of rebel lives? I hadn’t figured you for a wimp.”
“None of those things are on my mind, sir. But I would like to capture and interrogate the enemy aliens before destroying the vessel. Also, there’s always the possibility that our own human crewmen are still alive aboard that ship.”
When I’d finished, Jessup lifted a finger and stabbed it at me.
“No need to prattle on about aliens, Chief. This is about people who’ve become misguided—and besides, the mining crew must be dead. Even if they’re not, they’re about to become casualties of war. That ship must be destroyed.”
“But…” Allie said, daring to speak up. “If we gave them a chance to surrender—”
Captain Jessup’s right arm shook a little as the lieutenant said her piece. I could tell he wasn’t used to any kind of dissent. He whirled around to face her.
“Lieutenant Fletcher, keep your eyes on that scope! We’re going to shoot down the rebel flying that enemy ship as I’ve been ordered—that’s it!”
“Rebel…?” I said. “That ship is being operated by aliens, sir.”
“So you’ve been saying…” Jessup said. He was still busy staring down Allie, and it was working. She peered into her instruments and didn’t dare even meet his gaze. “I say they’re rebel rock-rats. Scum from the out-system venting their rage about not having dates or proper lives out here in deep space.”
“But the profile of behavior fits the aliens, sir,” I persisted. “There’s a chance we could capture one and—”
“And what? Have it teleport away? Maybe it can unload a bomb on my ship first. Would that make you happier?”
I shook my head, realizing I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him on this topic.
Stepping up, I examined the tactical data. The missile was bearing down on the miner, it would hit in the next three minutes.
For a moment, I considered forcibly destroying the missile—but I quickly passed on that idea.
After all, Jessup was right. The aliens did deserve to die. The only sad thing was we were passing up an opportunity to capture one—if such a thing was possible.
For the next several long minutes, I stayed quiet. Jessup and the others slowly relaxed as they realized I wasn’t going to argue any further.
“Ten… Nine… Eight…” Cmdr. Collins read the countdown.
When he got to ‘zero’ the screens brightened and turned white. A brilliant flash of radiance flared. We shaded our eyes despite the great gulf of space between our two ships.
Captain Jessup whooped, but no one else cheered. Only Cmdr. Collins managed a brief smile.
“Target destroyed, sir,” he said.
The miner had been reduced to its component molecules. I hid my disappointment, but I saw Lieutenant Fletcher was tight-lipped with concern. I could tell she didn’t like the idea that we might have just vaporized a captive crew.
I could understand both points of view. All I was concerned about was the possible improvement of my mission odds.
Shrugging, I left the bridge and went below. A voice behind me called out.
“Chief Gray?”
It was Allie.
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Do you really think we just killed a crew of hostages?”
“It’s hard to say. The enemy held the mining ship for quite some time. They aren’t the nicest customers. They’re quite vicious, in fact.”
She looked uncomfortable. “Do you think we did the right thing?”
“I don’t know about that, but I am sure you did the right thing, Allie.”
“Why?” she said. She looked upset, and that gave away the heart behind her pursed lips.
“Because Jessup is your legitimate captain, and we’re essentially in a state of war. You foll
owed your orders, and you did so successfully. In my book, that places you on the right side of any law or ethical conflict.”
“Oh… thank you.”
She gave me a flash of a pretty smile, touched my hand briefly, then turned around and left.
I watched her go back onto the bridge, turning slightly to get through the oval-shaped pressure door. Her legs were long enough she was forced to duck slightly, just as I was.
Of course, I didn’t entirely buy my own feel-good bullshit. If Jessup had exercised a little more restraint, we might have learned a lot and possibly saved the crew—if they’d been alive.
But all that was history now. I moved below decks, going down steel ladders and narrow, tilted gangways.
Something surprised me in the hold outside Fairweather. It was a scene I hadn’t expected to see.
An alien stood there, surrounded by three of our spacers. The men had guns in their hands, and Logan was one of them.
“We got one, Chief!” he exclaimed. “You’re here just in time to see us burn it down to ash!”
Chapter 33
“Stand down, Logan,” I ordered. I held my hand out and advanced carefully. “Back away from it—all of you.”
None of them gave any ground.
“Do it!” I said.
“Are you sure about that, Chief?” one of the crewman asked.
“Back off!” I repeated.
Each of them let their weapons drift until they pointed at the floor, but nobody let their eyes move away from the intruder. Again I insisted that they retreat, and they loosened the circle and backed up a step or two.
Wavering, the creature sank until it was crouching on the deck with a bony arm out to steady itself. Eyes downcast, it seemed to be laboring for breath.
“What happened here?” I asked them.
“We rounded this bend in the passage, and the bastard was just staggering around… right in front of us,” Logan explained. “There’s another one that’s dead—right over there.” he said flicking the muzzle of his weapon toward the passage beyond.
“Does anyone else know about this?” I asked.
“We didn’t have time to tell anybody before you showed up.”
“Good, let’s keep it that way,” I said. “The last thing I need right now is Jessup swaggering around.”
The alien itself didn’t seem like it was doing too well. A wet cough accompanied a wheezing rattle, and its hands had a tremor like it might be going into shock.
“For a guy so bent on eliminating the enemy, our captain’s got to work on his game,” I said, shaking my head.
“That’s for sure, Chief,” Logan said chiming in again. “He’s been doing his damnedest, but these spooks are right in Viper’s belly.”
“Well, his mistake is my good fortune,” I said. “I’m glad to have a chance to gain some intel.”
“You think you can talk to this piece of garbage?”
“It’s worth a shot,” I said. “I want you people to leave me alone with this trespasser. Go find something to busy yourself with, so you’re not giving me away.”
Keeping my eyes on the creature, I shooed my hand at Logan and the others until they began to retreat.
Logan hung back, pausing before he followed the others. “You want me to stick nearby to back you up, Gray?” he asked.
“No thanks, I need to have a one-on-one with our guest here,” I said.
“Oh, I gotcha... You might need to get a little personal with your interrogation—better to have no witnesses.”
“Uh—sure. No witnesses would be best right now.”
My actual thoughts were more along the lines of figuring I could handle things better on my own. I didn’t want to worry about anyone else’s safety while I was taking advantage of the situation.
I edged over to the other alien, who was a cooling corpse in the passage. The body had suffered significant trauma but appeared to be very similar to the others I’d tangled with before. They all seemed to wear tan robes, and have oddly configured muscles under pasty skin. The crimson blood that pooled out of the dead alien’s nostrils was the only thing remotely human about it.
I noticed several things about the live one that differed from all the others I’d encountered. First of all, he was a little freak.
Still huddled near the deck, it was about three quarters the height and mass of its brothers. The hood only allowed for a glimpse of its skin which was much darker than any of the others were. Its robe was similar, but it was marked by symbols and colored a dusky green.
The others—including the smashed one outside the compartment—had all worn plain, pale tan. This one had a very different look than the larger ones.
It seemed frail and hurt, so I crouched down to get a look at the face. Calm and subdued, it had similar features—the deep eye sockets, bony nares like a toad and a narrow, slit mouth.
It dared to glance at me for a moment, and its eyes were expressionless, but they seemed to tighten against pain or fear. Lowering its dark, blank stare again, it reached out and tried to lift itself.
I resisted an urge to steady it by the arm while it struggled to stand. I took a step back instead. Its right hand shook and groped at the air.
It seemed so frail I wasn’t overly cautious until I saw that hand moving toward my face.
Blocking that move automatically, I grabbed the smaller creature’s wrist firmly—but it had succeeded in distracting me.
Before I even noticed, the other hand snaked out and caressed my temple—actually touching me. There was no pain or other sensation, but I stepped back and raised my pistol into its face. I was pissed and surprised that I’d been caught off-guard.
As I squared to face the intruder it watched me. I realized that it had lulled me into falling for deliberate misdirection. That had almost never happened. I’d been fooled.
I wasn’t fond of practiced deceivers. Whether clowns, magicians or compulsive liars, behind their façade was unprocessed psychology. Such people felt compelled to inflict themselves upon the unaware.
Well, I was aware now. Advancing again, I gripped the spindly neck in my angry fingers.
But then, out of the blue, two words were forced into my mind. They were impossible to ignore as if carved with a chisel.
“Peaceful…desist.”
I reeled backward, surprised again.
Alarmed, my hands flew up to touch my forehead. I felt a soft patch there and tore it away. I stared at a dark circle of fabric I had pulled away from my skin.
The alien still seemed meek. Facing palms toward me in the universal gesture of submission, it stood bent and continued to wheeze—but he was also watching me closely with those glistening black eyes.
Slowly, the alien moved a finger to its own face. Pushing back its hood slightly, it tapped at a dark patch which was identical to the one I had in my hand. It then pointed at my patch and tapped its temple again.
Keeping a distance between us, I gritted my teeth. It was time to gamble or ditch this plan and kill the monster. I took the gamble.
I slapped the patch back on my skin. Immediately, words appeared in my mind again.
“Damaged…dying.”
The alien’s breath rattled through its tight mouth and a convincing bubble of snot expanded out of a nostril until it popped. I wasn’t in a forgiving mood, however.
Still not wanting to draw attention from any of the crew, I leaned over to it.
“What do you want?” I hissed. “What are you doing on this ship?”
Cringing again in pain, it winced and looked down again.
“Damaged… dying,” it repeated.
I decided to try using my thoughts to speak to this little creep.
“Why the hell are you following us and trying to hurt our people?” I projected strongly.
This time I saw it visibly wilt under the intensity of my questions. I waited for it to respond.
Blinking, it pressed its hands against its chest and softly projected a ga
rbled thought.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
It repeated the same thought, but the translation was no better.
“Nope—it’s still not coming through,” I said, shaking my head.
This time, it spoke along with the third repetition. While awkward and slurring, to my ears it sounded like he was saying: Heinous.
It took me a second, but I slowly cracked a grin. “Are you trying to tell me your name is… Anus?” I asked, saying the last word out loud.
“Anus,” it spoke aloud in response and indicated itself. “Correct.”
I stared as I let it soak into my mind. “Okay… um… Anus. I’ll assume you’re not shitting me… are you?” I was smirking and close to laughter. I couldn’t help it.
The situation caused me to release some of my tension. Sure, humans probably wouldn’t think to name themselves after such a body-part—but there were loads of people walking around with weird names.
The alien was so serious. He undoubtedly had no idea that his name would provide humans with endless amusement.
“You know, in polite company you may want to go by Sphincter,” I told him. “Your buddies could call you Bunghole.”
I laughed then. It was the funniest damned thing I could remember hearing lately.
Anus just watched me, uncomprehending.
I sized-up the little guy. He was no more than five and a quarter feet tall, charcoal colored, wearing a green robe, and he was named “Asshole”. Obviously, if it was an accurate translation, his culture didn’t consider it funny or disgusting. Despite understanding this, I couldn’t help but grin at him. My mind imagined future ambassadors to his world having to deal with such peculiarities. Keeping a straight face would prove challenging.
“Chief?” Logan asked appearing behind me and around the corner. “Everything still okay or do you need a hand?”
“No, no, Logan,” I said. “Everything’s fine, but me and this asshole are still having a chat.”
“If you say so, Chief,” Logan said. He sounded a little dubious but backed off anyway.
The alien just stared at me while it quivered and wheezed. My mood was definitely lighter, but it was time to get back to business. I needed some answers before he died on me.