“What I’m trying to say is… you’re a clever lady, you’re clearly able to see what I’m saying… except for the cryptic comments I’ve made,” he quickly added.
Phyllis still wasn’t quite certain what Scott had said or meant. She did think he’d tried to compliment her though.
“Does that mean I said the right thing, then?” she asked, wondering if her question made sense.
“Too bloody right you did! Sorry! Yes, you did.” He answered while correcting himself. He was becoming aware he would need to speak politely and fluently if he wasn’t to confuse either of them with the silly talk he’d been using all his life. Phew, he thought to himself, this isn’t going be easy!
Belinda recognised Scott’s dilemma, as did Phyllis. They looked to the other, both smiling at Scott’s puzzled and agonised look. He quickly recovered, shaking his head slightly as if to help clear his confused thoughts.
“Right, that’s settled then. We leave the system where we came in and enter elsewhere in an area where we would be least expected,” commanded Belinda.
“Fair enough, that’s the way to confuse the little Grey bastards,” stated Scott as he felt terrible realising he’d cursed in his little speech.
Both ladies smiled again. They recognised Scott’s embarrassment and thought it funny.
The ship’s external power source was turned off, relying on the ship’s own internal generator. The glowing ship faded into darkness, blending into the blackness of space for safety and camouflage. Non-essential systems were shutdown one-by-one, reducing the emitted magnetic signature as it ventured forth. Belinda already knew what was necessary to minimise their detection; her briefing had been intense as well as interesting.
Scott was impressed as he observed both women working together with their thoughts passing between them like dreams in the night. Each seemed to know what the other wanted and reacted like a well-trained duet. He didn’t need to speak or utter a sound, he understood that they knew what had to be done.
Chapter ten
The crushing depth would mean instant death for any man, but to the military nuclear submarine that glided swiftly and silently through the murky waters of the South Atlantic any danger was minimalised. Without the regular heartbeat of a piston, the emission of noxious exhaust fumes or a heat signature, the almost invisible submarine swept the cold and forbidding waters aside as it headed towards its new destination and mission. NASA had informed the Pentagon, who in-turn ordered the captain of this submerged Man-o’-War, there had been a confirmed sighting of a UFO by both visual contact and also by good-luck. The visual sighting was from a holiday cruise liner returning from a once-in-a-lifetime round-the-world trip, where both crew and mostly aged passengers saw what could best be described as a flying wedge. The unanimous description was, it had no discernable markings, other than it was black, and was shaped like a wedge of cheese. The other report, which was the lucky break, was from a USA satellite carrying out investigative work on the migratory patterns of the orca and penguins; one was an awesome beast that fed off the other. The penguin may have as much chance of flying through the air as a house-brick might, but as a swimmer and traveller of great distances it was extremely efficient and capable. The nuclear sub didn’t emit any evidence of its presence, it didn’t leave any kind of pollution or reflect any echo from its absorbent tiles, but the Greys’ still knew where it was. It just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time, as far as the Greys were concerned. The Grey Empire always went out of their way to maintain concealment, which is why the planet Mars was believed by humans to be jinxed; especially when the number of visiting exploratory craft failed at the eleventh and most-final hour of landing. No other planet or lunar surface had this record of failure, where a well-tested intricate piece of advanced technological hardware would casually fail as soon as its landing was almost complete. Some had actually reached the Martian surface, just prior to its abrupt and mysterious failure that cut its expensive mission short to the point of being practically non-existent. How the Greys’ scoffed at the naivety of the human race, especially how humans firmly believed they were the only intelligent species to inhabit space. This ignorance only served to enforce the Empire’s belief that humans were undeserving of the valuable blue planet on which they both resided and destroyed. This, however, would soon be remedied, according to the projections and dastardly plans already made by the Grey Elite.
The signal arrived at the Officer in Charge of the Comm’s desk, with its designation of Top-Secret classification stamped all over it in red. The officer grasped the communiqué and headed for the Skipper’s quarters at the double.
Admiral Peter Josef Hoffman, also known as, Skipper, was handling the days reports, noting the submarine’s performance, faults and discipline for that week. The crew’s working day was governed by the atomic clock as the entire voyage was submerged, so daylight and night-time meant very little to any of the crew until they returned home to their families and sweethearts. Until then, it was work and sleep, a repetitive world of doing what they were trained to do and hot-bedding the narrow folding bunks. The routine was just that, simply routine, so any kind of diversion was greatly received by all, except the cooks. They were the unfortunate guys who got the criticism if the food wasn’t up to scratch, or if anyone was having a really bad day with an attitude problem and wanted something or someone else to moan about. And when there was any abrupt change to the sub’s schedule, they had to re-plan their meals to suit the nutritional needs of the men. The dishes delivered by these hard-working sailors would have been a credit to any up-market five-star gourmet restaurant, where diners and critics would appreciate the tastes and succulent savouries served with the reverence expected by the very highest of society.
At the sound of his junior Officer’s voice and more than urgent knocking, Skipper looked over his bi-focal glasses towards the open door.
“There’s an urgent message from HQ sir, marked Top Secret.”
The Officer was a youngster compared with the rest of the crew, straight from Military College and on his first submerged cruise around the globe. He wasn’t aware he was doing a tour of the world as the information of the submarine's whereabouts was concealed knowledge, known only to the Captain, his Executive Officer, known as the XO, and the Navigator. The young and spotty looking lad handed the document over, not knowing what information it contained.
CAPTAIN’S EYES ONLY, was printed in large, bold lettering that was impossible to miss. The navy didn’t take chances with important information, the codes needed for understanding the message was changed every fifteen minutes, regular as clockwork and without fail.
The envelope was opened and the message decrypted. His trained and alert mind was able to decipher the coded letter as quickly as any could, operating the box of tricks that closely resembled the German Code machine from the second world war called, Enigma, but only in looks. The simplicity of the Enigma machines was a thing-of-the-past, an untidy electro-mechanical piece of antiquity, whose cracking had ultimately played a huge part in the downfall of the Third Reich.
The deciphered message included the co-ordinates of the UFO’s visual sighting, with details of the strange triangular craft entering the sea a little to the south of their present position. His submarine was being ordered to steer for the area and investigate the situation, taking all precautions in case the unknown craft belonged to a foreign power … or otherwise.
The new co-ordinates were entered into the ship’s navigational computer and a course was set. It would take approximately eighteen hours before they would begin to enter the region where the sighting was reported from. The skipper immediately called his officers to the Board-room for a briefing, including those off-shift and asleep. The cooks looked at one another with a sigh, wondering what was going on and how the meals and times might be affected. The lamb casserole, stews and joints of beef and pork wouldn’t take kindly to extra time in the ovens. The head chef called his friend in the
Comm’s room, asking if he had any idea what was going on. “Sorry Cookie, I’ve no idea what’s happening,” was the quick-as-a-flash reply. Even if his friend had known he’d still not have told him, mate or no-mate. Some things just shouldn’t be said or passed on to others not in-the-know.
Chapter eleven
The small ship traversed its darkened way around Earth’s system’s outer boundary. The middle-aged yellow sun sat gleaming at the centre, not looking much larger or brighter than any other stars in the heavens. They began to enter a domain they suspected was poised to trap them, with a feeling they perhaps shouldn’t be there.
The Grey ship lay still and invisible behind the asteroid, poised like a predator waiting for its unsuspecting prey. No communications or signals passed from or to them. Their mission was of the highest secrecy with their presence shrouded by the darkness and silence of space. There had been a blip on their detection screens for the briefest of moments, the partial sighting of another ship, perhaps, the Grey commander wondered. It was thought their prey was about to enter the spun web, where an emerald-green coloured sting would catch the small disk complete with its ignorant and simple humanoids. How the Grey ship’s commander looked forward to seeing the faces of the few who thought they could outwit an empire as great as theirs. The momentary blip disappeared almost as soon as it had appeared. Its short-lived presence persuaded the Grey crew it was a stray asteroid or comet on an eccentric orbit, where the gravitational effects of other planetary bodies determined where it would travel.
The wait will be worth it, the Grey commander assured himself. Earth’s future was as good as signed, sealed and delivered, by virtue of a few unsuspecting and interfering human beings. The commander couldn’t contain his forthcoming sadistic pleasure and almost released a smile.
Belinda was reluctant to start a sweep of the system, searching for other craft, knowing other ships could detect it. Their mission was secret to most, if not all, Patricia had informed Phyllis. “You must not allow yourself to believe you are on a normal flight,” she insisted. Phyllis said she understood the importance of this mission and would do everything in her power to ensure it would succeed. Patricia had thanked her, saying her confidence was with her as the best pilot she had ever known. Phyllis couldn’t reply to Patricia’s complimentary remark as she’d never heard such a thing said before. She was a pilot, the same as all the others, no difference and the same training. Was Patricia being honest or patronising, she wondered?
Scott watched the overhead monitors, all three of them. There were a few intermittent blips flashing among the planet’s orbits, which he couldn’t recognise, making him wonder what was what. The nine planets stood out quite well; except there seemed to be an additional one at the outermost limit of the system, which caught his attention. Through squinting eyes, he tried to make sure he was seeing a little pinpoint of a blip on the central monitor, asking when he felt convinced, “Is that a tenth planet?”
Belinda and Phyllis looked to each other. Scott heard their conversation. They wondered if perhaps Frell had gone to the trouble of explaining there was a tenth planet in the system, plus a whole lot more information. They just didn’t know how much Scott actually knew about his surroundings and could only comment when asked to. Before an answer left the lips of Belinda or Phyllis, Scott said, “It’s ok, I can see there’s a tenth. It’s all so flaming wonderful, all the technology and the secrets of the universe that I’m learning; almost as if I’m living in a series of Star Trek.”
Words or thoughts didn’t pass between the two puzzled ladies, even though they persisted in looking at each other. Neither knew what the Star Trek reference was, or how it might affect Scott’s life. He decided not to try and explain the circumstances behind his remark, but would try to emulate Captain James Tiberius Kirk’s bravery, as shown in each and every weekly colourful episode.
“The planet called, Pluto, is very small and there are other orbiting bodies that could in effect also be entitled to be called planets, or at the very least, planetoids. This could mean there would be at least twenty planets, all orbiting your sun.” Belinda smiled, knowing the revealing information would give him something to think about. Both ladies returned their attention to the task in hand, to evade the Greys and gain entry to Martian space. Each knew the immediate plans hadn’t been discussed with Scott and the dangers involved were quite unknown to him. However, orders were orders and it was time to tell him what dangers he might be in for.
The sub’s officers were seated around the narrow table with jugs of water and steaming flasks of tea and coffee being poured into either glasses or mugs. It was the freshly awakened members who were first to pour drinks for themselves, especially black coffee, as noticed by the Captain. Exactly what he would have done if he had just been dragged out of his bunk in the middle of a deep sleep, he knew.
Rising to his feet, indicating his attention to a projected map on a large screen, he said, “Gentlemen, we’ve received official notification of an unidentified flying object, frequently known as a UFO, arriving south of us at 14:24 hours earlier today. Its description is of a black wedge-shaped vehicle, triangular by any other description, a previously reported type of craft. This may, or may not be, a false alarm, but Strategic Command and protocol state we must investigate. You all know the drill, search for anything unusual, monitor our surroundings for anything that might be connected with the sighting, whether it’s sound, light, magnetic-anomaly or physical disturbance. Most of you are aware of the peculiarities we sometimes come across, and I rely upon you all to stem any rumours or concerns that might occur from our activities. And, in this instance, the UFO might now be a USO, which as most of you are aware is an unidentified submerged object to any who are new to this game, and we all know about them, don’t we?” The Skipper’s audience nodded in unison, except the spotty Comm’s officer. He would ask others about the submerged object reference later. Unexplained heaving sensations of passing USO’s were well known within submarine communities, throughout the world’s Navies, though not by the man-in-the-street at large. All eyes were on the captain of this small submersible craft, a ship that was as flimsy as an egg in a pot of boiling water. Too low and deep could mean it cracking open and inevitable destruction. Too high and their obscurity would disappear. There were birds high in the upper stratosphere searching for any sign of a sub, especially one that carried nukes. The Captain was constantly battling to keep the submarine invisible from prying eyes, insisting their fate was in the hands of all who served on-board. He sometimes likened the job of being a submarine’s skipper to that of a circus acrobat juggling glass balls. One wrong move or mistake and the whole lot could come crashing down on their heads.
The planet Mars was indicated in the centre of the middle screen, its position shown as a rapidly flashing circle coloured red. The ship was ready for its insertion into the isolated system, and whatever adventures might lie ahead for it and its unfearing crew.
Belinda looked across to Phyllis, who in turn looked to Scott. He, however, rested his own gaze upon the red flashing indicator, almost mesmerising himself into a train of deep thought as he attempted to work out within his mind what they all might be heading into.
He turned to face his crew of two lovely looking women with a smile, saying, “Let’s go find Frell and Drang!”
Belinda turned from Phyllis and looked towards Scott, releasing a smile at his assuring demur, announcing by telepathy, “Your meeting with Frell is long overdue. It’s time to take her home.”
Phyllis stepped forward and nodded in silent agreement. She too knew the moment had arrived where they would all be involved in an adventure of a lifetime, where success had an even chance of failure. She was ready for whatever came at them, ready to give her best. Scott had awakened something within her, raising her feelings to reach a level of excitement and being alive, in an animal sort of way. She had never envisaged the moment they now shared, the feeling of common ancestry and camaraderie, a deep s
ensation of belonging to a group that knew not of their future but were destined to fight for their beliefs.
Scott was aware this was a rescue mission, plus the addition of perhaps fighting a foe of unknown strength and numbers. His thoughts rested on the possibility of a bloody battle, wondering if the blood might be red, green, brown or grey.
With a determined look, he said to both ladies, “Let’s go get ‘em!”
Grey eyes were looking in the wrong direction, expecting their prey to arrive as if on a dish served to a table of hungry diners from the kitchen door, all waiting to devour the contents with fervour and unrestrained glee. The quadrant they were monitoring for activity was in the opposite direction from where the smaller ship now entered, a plan that was well thought-out by Scott and his military methodology. His training had prepared him to think like the enemy, which armed him with a preconception of what to be ready for and what to avoid. His distant memory of the Grey Empire recalled they tended to work on logic, a straight-laced mind of expectation that could not conceive an entity who could double-cross at any time. Scott’s mind worked like a machine, biologically determining what might happen and how to go about avoiding whatever ambush or trap might be in place. He released a smile at the thought he was outwitting a civilisation that was so technologically beyond anything he might mentally conceive or dream-up.
Grey eyes scoured the heavens with a concentrated effort, fully expecting a small ship to appear before them at any moment. Their recently received information had indicated a small ship from the human colony would enter Earth’s system close to their own position, appearing in complete innocence and pathetic naivety. The Grey commander almost grinned at the thought of capturing the humans before they even got beyond the system’s outer extremes. His mind was clear, his plan was set, his instructions were memorised. He was to catch the humans and deliver them to Mars. But instead of transporting the captives to their base, as he was ordered to, he had retrospectively decided to send the captured ship and its crew hurtling into the system’s sun. The ship’s total obliteration would destroy any evidence of its capture. His simple plan was assured to work, he surmised, finally causing the commander to release a silly-looking impish grin. He was not prepared to take any chances with a human who was capable of destroying a ship like the one he himself was captaining. He had to be destroyed!
An Alien Rescue Page 13