An Alien Rescue

by Gordon Mackay

  Chapter twenty-five

  Phyllis released a groan. Belinda laid a hand gently upon her, asking if she could be heard. With no other sounds forthcoming, Belinda suggested they should try to revive the commander and use him to help them find their way.

  “You got it babe,” answered Mike, happy to have the subject of his erection dropped. “Oi! Wake up ya piece of bone-head crap!” was demanded with another kick.

  “Eh, Mike? I wonder if it might be more constructive to be a little more courteous and polite with our demands. We might get a better response if we were,” asked Scott with a ringing in his ears from Mike’s bawling.

  Mike’s eyebrows came together as his eyes squinted with anger. “Would I consider giving a courteous and polite demand instead of an order?” he said with obvious sarcasm. “Hey, why didn’t I think of that myself? Now I do declare it should’ve occurred to me, to ask, ‘Would you be ever so kind as to wake up and help us on our way, old boy?’ Holy-friggen-shit, I’m surrounded by boy-scouts and girly-guides that would rather play nice little do-gooders in the fuckin’ hope this piece of Grey shit will bend over bloody backwards to help us out. Hello-o-o, is there anyone else here who sees what I can?”

  Scott turned to Belinda. “Unique?”

  “You do not see the other side of his personality.”

  “The other side to his … personality? You make him sound like he’s split down the middle.”

  “Hey,” Mike erupted. “Watch your goddamned mouth you piece of Brit crap!”

  Scott rubbed his face with one hand, giving himself a moment to recover his composure from Mike’s annoyance. He saw the Grey stir at Mike’s feet, expecting a US Marine’s foot to disappear up his bony rectum should he try to get up while Mike was still fired-up.

  “I’m sorry if I offended you, Mike. I guess I’m tired. I wish I was back on Skye sleeping in my tent.”

  Belinda remembered picking him up, while Mike recalled sleeping in the jungle with ants crawling over his ass and biting him.

  “I think we’re all tired,” said Belinda.

  “I think yer goddamned cotton-picking right about that!” agreed Mike with a yellow-toothed grin.

  Scott had to ask a question he had been meaning to for a long time. “If you are from Chicago, how in god’s name do you occasionally sound like a red-neck from the good y’all southern states?”

  Mike looked upwards with a proud look and laugh. “Hey, is it that obvious?”

  Scott looked confused. “Is what obvious?”

  “That I grew up in Louisiana.”

  A smile of relief appeared across Scott’s face, hinting his question had finally been answered. “I guess it is obvious when I hear you did.”

  “Yeah, best damned thing that came out of the south, that’s me, ya’hear?”

  Scott felt a compulsion to wind Mike up. “I thought Bourbon was the best thing to leave the southern states?”

  Mike thought about it for a moment. “Yer damned right it is. For a goddamned limey ya beat me on the draw with that one, for sure!”

  Scott couldn’t resist replying in attempting to reply in a southern drawl. “Well al’ be one little-all horn-toaded, cotton-picken, bourbon-swiggen, moonshine-dunkin, horseback-shaggin guy who can outgun a US Marine on Mars.”

  Mike opened his mouth to speak, hesitated before closing it again. He couldn’t work out what he had just heard. It was the meanest attempt at being a redneck he’d ever heard. He remained silent as if he’s heard some Catch 22 phrase which he was having trouble working out.

  Belinda waited before speaking, allowing the verbal dust to settle. “I think the commander is waking up.”

  The memory of Scott’s performance was instantly forgotten, as Mike said, “Let’s give him another kicking to remind him who he’s with. I’m cotton-pickin’ sure he’ll get the goddamned message loud and fuckin’ clear.”

  “Or, we can ask him where the hell we are, maybe even get some kind of an answer that will help us to find Frell and Drang; not forgetting we might also learn how we might get ourselves out of this hellhole,” said Scott in quick reply to Mike’s determination to give the commander another bit of US Marine persuasion.

  Mike nodded at Scott’s suggestion, saying, “Yeah, your right. Okay, I get the message. But if that so-called co-bloody-mmander gets up to any shenanigans, I will personally give him an express elevator into orbit, all aided by the accelerated leverage of my right foot!”

  “Agreed,” said Scott with a wink. “But you’ll have to be fast cause my foot’ll be in there first.”

  “Agreed!” accepted Mike.

  Scott released a sigh of relief.

  Belinda helped the commander to his feet, feeling the coarseness of his skin as she touched him. She announced herself to him by telepathy, telling him they were not going to hurt him. He replied they already had, as he tried to straighten himself into a standing position, with a plea of, ‘Please do not eat me!’ Scott heard the fear from the Grey, thinking him stupid, while looking at Phyllis. Her hands were a mess. Red raw hands with open wounds and missing fingers. He felt for her, wishing he could suffer her pain to spare her. Then he announced himself, as Belinda had. He never thought about doing it, it just happened. The Grey turned ever so slowly towards Scott, almost as if he was afraid of what he might see. His unblinking black-as-night eyes looked into Scott’s, straight into his life. The commander spun around to face Belinda, demanding why she was doing this trick against him.

  Taken by surprise, she asked what he meant. He thrust his head forward, almost threateningly, demanding to know why her kind was aiding Earth’s apes to communicate by telepathy. Scott stepped forward to kick him where it should hurt, but was stopped by Mike just before his foot left the floor.

  Mike said quietly, “Don’t you dare. He’s mine!”

  Scott almost lost his balance by Mike’s restraint. He cursed him for stopping him. Belinda, on the other hand, was pleased Mike had intervened. “We have not taught anyone to be telepathic, it’s a natural process that is born into each and every one of us. As for the one who has communicated with you, his ability is one of his own doing. He was born with it, like I was.”

  The commander could be heard breathing deeply through the small holes that were an excuse for nostrils. He was giving Belinda’s reply some thought, considering the implications of all humans being able to communicate by telepathy. He insisted they were trying to trick him into believing they were not giving the humans on Earth assistance. Scott moved towards him, looking into his black almond-shaped eyes. He never said or communicated a single word, but the commander got his message none the less, pulling his head away.

  Scott asked, “Can I rip his head off?”

  The commander let out a shrilling shriek, as if he was about to die an agonising death. Belinda was puzzled. Greys didn’t normally allow themselves to show emotions, so what was happening here, she wondered?

  Scott repeated his question. “Can I? Can I? Pretty please?”

  Mike almost jumped with glee. “Sure. You can for me, man.”

  Belinda placed a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “No, you may not.”

  “Why not?” he demanded to know, with a wink.

  Belinda saw his eye momentarily close, recalling the occurrence. It dawned on her he was kidding; having a joke, performing a ruse, trying to fool the Grey into believing his life was in danger. She thought it would be interesting to see where Scott’s wink might lead to.

  “Why should you?” she asked dramatically to add substance to the conversation.

  “Because this so-called leader isn’t here to help us. He’s here to trap us, to kill us, to rip us apart and use our bits and pieces for other causes.”

  Mike had seen the wink too, saying, “Yeah, let’s rip his head off. He’s of no use to us, none at all. For instance, look at Phyllis with her damaged hands. What the friggen hell use is this Grey piece of scumbag if he can’t even help us to heal her.” It wasn’t only the comma
nder who looked confused at Mike’s choice of words. But after a moment, the Grey’s head turned to meet Belinda’s gaze. He suggested there might be something he could do to help the female with the damaged paws.

  Scott almost jumped off the ground and leapt at the Grey who cowered with fright. “I’m gonna do it! I’m going to rip his fucking head off. Right here, right now! I’ll give ‘im paws!”

  Belinda jumped between them as Mike grabbed Scott to hold him back.

  “Wait, Scott. Wait a moment. I think the commander has something else to say.” Belinda panted slightly, almost as if the exertion of getting between the two had winded her.

  “He thinks we’re nothing but fucking animals! Let me at ‘im!”

  Belinda maintained her stance between them as Mike continued to hold him back while balancing Phyllis across his shoulders.

  “Look at yourself, Scott? Listen to what you are saying, to what you are suggesting? Can you blame him for thinking you are an animal?”

  Scott’s pressure eased, allowing Belinda and Mike to relax slightly. His blood pressure was high and his adrenalin was pumping around his body like engine oil in a revving racing car. He had tasted hate from the Grey’s comment, with murder on the menu for it. Chef’s choice dish of the day, Grey Revenge, a sweet dish with a lovely aftertaste for referring to a human as an animal, he thought.

  Belinda overheard his vengeful thoughts. While his blood pressure was high his thoughts were loud and clear. No wonder everyone on board the Mothership heard them making love, she thought.

  “Scott, I’m sure there must be something the commander can help us with.” She said it as an aid to getting him to volunteer his services. She hoped it would work; otherwise she might just let Scott do his worst on an enemy who would have them destroyed without any thought of mercy.

  The commander finally worked out what had been said. His understanding of the English language was poor, to say the least, but he understood enough to know his body might be missing one or two of its most important appendages in the not so distant future if he wasn’t careful. It was something that not only shocked him, but also enough to scare the colour from him, making him appear paler.

  His bony and erect stance bowed as he announced there was something he could do to help the female after all. He had been about to say the word paws again, but stopped himself just in time. The looks of the animals that surrounded him assured him his head would have finally left his body if he had.

  “What the fuck could you do for her?” asked Mike with hopeful contempt.

  It was obvious the commander did not understand what the question was by his puzzled expression. It could have been similar to that of a human while staring blankly at a monkey in a zoo, when the monkey was simply telling the human to fuck-off and give him some peace to sleep like the sloth in the next cage.

  “Mike!” cried Belinda at the top of her voice, bringing the throng around her to an abrupt silence. Stop using that kind of language. He does not understand it.”

  “Which part didn’t he understand?” he asked in defiance. “I bet he understood the kicking he got!”

  For the first time there was sheer annoyance on Belinda’s face, making Mike wish he hadn’t asked such a stupid question.

  “All of it, you fucking moron!”

  Scott wanted to jump on the band wagon while Mike was obviously beaten. But changed his mind when Belinda turned to face him with a look that screamed he had better not. He realised with horror she had picked up his thoughts. Raising both arms as if to say he was admitting surrender, he again thought he had better not even consider thinking about the lovely body that lurked beneath her blue outfit. Then thought yet again, hoping she hadn’t picked up his additional thoughts about not thinking. “Oh fuck-it,” Scott said to shut himself up.

  Belinda did not flinch at any of his thoughts or curse. She gave no indication as to whether she had heard him or not. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she did, she decided. She did find the blue suited body part interesting though.

  The commander stood as if he was in a state of shock. Belinda wondered if he was being awfully clever while trying to fool them into believing he was suffering, while also trying to work out a means of escape. Greys were not known to show emotions, and yet here was a high ranking member of the Empire that threatened war on any species that did not adhere to their ways or beliefs. She wanted to believe the being that stood lamely in front of her was showing feelings, but was almost certain she and the others were being taken-in. To test him, she decided to find out what he had to offer Phyllis in the way of help or assistance.

  With a kind expression, she asked. “So, what can you do to help our friend?”

  “Your friend?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “Our friend, the female whose hands are damaged.”

  He waited for a moment, as if to consider what he might gain from helping them. Then said, “I can repair the damage to her … hands. But I cannot replace what has gone. You will need to go to our Earth base for that.”

  Not one of them said a word. Their thoughts were running wild though.

  “I can stop the pain and mend the wounds, just like we did with the hairy one whose language hurts my ears and his foot my head and fingers.”

  They all looked at Mike as if to say, you speak funny, we told you so. Mike on the other hand, didn’t see it the way the others did and wanted to take over from Scott’s position of ripping the goddamned head off his scrawny neck. But before he could make a move, Belinda stepped between him and the Grey.

  “Are you telling us that you can replace the damaged parts on our friend’s … hands?” She almost pleaded to hear him say, yes.

  “Yes.”

  Phyllis stirred, releasing a sigh while moving as if she wanted to stand. Mike looked to see if she was conscious, noticing her eyes were opened at last. “How are you?” he asked, almost expecting her to pass out again. She didn’t reply at first, waiting to focus her eyes on the other concerned faces. Then she saw the Grey looking at her.

  “What is he doing here?”

  Scott looked at the commander, who seemed to shrink as Phyllis asked her question, before telling her all that happened between the time she passed out and the present.

  “If he can help me, then please tell him to right away. I am suffering an awful amount of pain.”

  Mike stepped forward, as if his name had been called while on parade. “Ya’gorrit babe, we’ll get this little-al’ Grey slime-ball to fixya in no time at all.”

  Gently allowing her to slip off his shoulders, Mike gave the Grey a gentle nudge with one foot as a reminder.

  Phyllis swayed slightly, quickly regaining her balance to steady herself.

  “Right, you piece of cosmic scumbag,” Mike said through gritted teeth. “Let’s get going to have her hands repaired.”

  Phyllis smirked at his humorous comments, returning some colour and a smile to her drawn face. The commander never spoke, he just pointed in the direction they needed to go.

  “Lead the way, shit for brains. And I mean now!” Mike had given the order with another kick to let the Grey know he was in no mood for being messed around with, and it was not as gentle as the last.

  The commander was inwardly seething, his hate filling his mind to the point where he might be persuaded to try and run for his life. He had also seen the mechanised weapon held by Scott, wondering how it actually worked so he could use it to destroy the viruses that now humiliated him. His mind was working very quickly.

  Belinda was about to lead the way, when Scott stepped in front. “Hey, Belinda. I think we’ll let the Grey lead the way with me and Akay babe following close behind. And if he tries to make a dash for it, I’ll personally blow his goddamned legs off his bony back-flaming-side. And you can tell him what I said.” She did.

  Mike almost jumped with joy to hear Scott speaking like the Bro’s he left behind in Nam all those many years before. “Spoken like a true Marine, pal
,” he said.

  “Yeah, and spoken by someone who would dearly love to rip this bastard’s head off too,” Scott added into the celebration. “Right, shithead. Let’s get going. Take us to the place where we can fix her hands.”

  The commander did not need to completely decipher all that he had heard. The kicks and the threatening sounds were enough to tell him his life was in danger should he fail to help the female ape or try to escape. I will have my chance soon enough, he thought silently so no one else could hear him or know he was planning something.

  The tunnel echoed to the sound of their footsteps, with a spotless floor and shiny wall the sound reverberated around them. The Grey never once looked over his shoulder, he did not need to. The plodding from behind reminded him his time was no longer his own. Scott only saw the back of the commander’s head, noticing how large his cranium was in relation to the rest of his body. The brain, he thought, couldn’t have been much bigger than his own, and yet he was supposed to be intellectually advanced.

  The room was a brilliant white, bathed in a light that was blinding to them all, except the Grey it appeared. They each covered their eyes upon entering from the lesser lit tunnel. The Grey looked over his shoulder to see them all deflect their eyesight with partially closed eyes. Scott saw the look, recognising it was the first time he had looked behind. He suspected the Grey might make a break for freedom while they were indisposed with the room’s brilliance.