An Alien Rescue

by Gordon Mackay

  Phyllis approached his other shoulder, gently laying a hand upon it. “There will be many mysteries from Earth’s long forgotten past stored here, Scott. People have been taken for countless numbers of centuries; by the Greys, by others, and by us too. It is something we have always regretted doing, but it was necessary to do so.”

  He waited a moment before replying, allowing a silence to form between them. It all began to make a whole lot more sense, everything he had learned from Frell, Drang, Belinda and Phyllis, not forgetting Patricia and Mike.

  “Yeah! And there was Mike as well! Those evil bastards took him from an early grave in the jungle!” Scott paused, realising what he had said. “I guess Mike was an exception to the rule, though. He would more than likely have died if he hadn’t been abducted.” He smiled at his recollection of Mike’s more-than colourful phrases on Mars. Remembering how he had almost made love to Akay, and would have if he could, Scott believed. A smile appeared on Scott’s lips at the thought of Mike attempting to straddle a piece of cold steel while calling it, Babe. A faint snigger left his lips, lightening the serious load he was carrying and making him feel better.

  “I guess there are answers to a great many puzzles here,” suggested Belinda as she looked from the distant lines of cases then upwards to view the highest rows, mentally working-out there must be many thousands of bodies lying in drowned state.

  Scott moved down the line, slowly and methodically, looking at lots of men and women, boys and girls, but thankfully, no babies, he thought. The next case contained a slim-bodied female with short blonde locks of hair. He couldn’t help stopping to have a better look. She had such a shapely figure with small but nicely formed breasts. Her eyebrows and lashes were slightly darker than her hair. She was an absolute delight to look at, and such a waste, he thought inwardly. He imagined Frell’s lovely hair and body when he saw the woman suspended in the liquid, looking almost as perfect as she had been in life. The pale yellow liquid gave her a slightly unusual colour, but that was the only unusual thing about her appearance. He was reluctant to do it, but his inquisitive side forced him to look at the inscription. Belinda leaned over beside him and translated the writing for him. She said the words softly. “Earhart, Amelia. Aircraft, Pilot. Pacific Ocean.”

  He fell into a state of silence with a look of disbelief. He placed a hand onto the case, feeling its warmth and a slight vibration. He said, “Oh my god!”

  Both women stood by his side, trying to give him some form of reassurance that he was not alone, hoping he was not about to break down, or worse, break the case.

  “Who was she?” asked Phyllis.

  Scott clasped his hands together, feeling the sweat that formed between them as he rubbed his palms together. “She was a pilot, one of the first aviatrix. A famous girly pilot who disappeared while attempting to fly across the Pacific Ocean. A very brave woman who deserved to succeed in her quest.” He looked to the darkened floor. “That’ll be another mystery solved, then?” He couldn’t help himself; he had to look at her again, enjoying her deliciously looking female flesh and shape, thinking she reminded him of Frell.

  “Yes, I am afraid it is, Scott. And there must be many more, but we cannot afford to spend any more time here. We must locate Frell and Drang. It is why we are here.” Belinda had a look of determination as she had urged him to leave the poor woman whose fate no other human knew.

  “You’re right; I know you’re right…. But one more case, just one more… Please?”

  With a nod of her head, Belinda reluctantly consented, “One more only.”

  It contained an early middle-aged man with short dark hair. There were a few grey strands breaking out here and there and a dull mark like a groove across the bridge of his nose, strongly suggesting he had worn glasses. There was really nothing else outstanding about this poor wretch, until Belinda calmly said, “Miller, Glen. Aircraft, Passenger. English ….”

  Scott burst in to prevent her saying anything else. He couldn’t handle any more information. He had expected to hear the name of some long lost anonymous soul whose name would mean nothing whatsoever to him; instead of uncovering another puzzle from Earth’s past. “You were right; I shouldn’t have looked at any more cases.” He knew he shouldn’t look at any more, but couldn’t help wondering if Frell or Drang might be next in line.

  “Do you think she might be here? With Drang?” He asked with uncertainty in his voice.

  Belinda could not look him in the eyes as she turned away, replying, “We have no way of knowing.”

  Scott moved in front of her, placing a hand beneath her chin to raise her head, forcing her to make eye contact. “If they are here, would that mean they are dead?”

  She twisted away, releasing herself from his hand. “That is a difficult question to answer,” she replied.

  “I bet it is,” he added with bitterness, believing she had answered as best she could without dashing any hopes he had of saving her, which was as accurate and as painful as an arrow fired into his heart.

  Phyllis raised a hand for their attention and silence, saying, “Listen! Listen very carefully to the thoughts of others from within this base.”

  They all stood transfixed, listening to faint murmurings from what seemed a great distance away. Each of them heard different sounds and various commands, with an occasional thought that was unlike any Grey they had encountered… except Scott.

  “Shit! It’s like the Grey hybrids I overheard on the moon. It’s as if from a human and a Grey source, at the same time, almost like an echo.”

  Both ladies turned to face him, then each other. They were taken by surprise at his remarkably increased sensitivity to telepathy. To be able to differentiate between species was quite an astounding feat, but to actually understand who they might be was something extraordinary. They were impressed and surprised to the extreme, almost shaking their heads in disbelief at the surprise of hearing him say the words.

  “Yes,” Phyllis agreed. “But, there is something else. Can you not hear it?” It sounds faint as if it is far away, almost too far for the thought to travel.”

  They all stood in deepest silence with their eyes closed to aid their concentration. Belinda was first to speak. “I think I hear it… Yes, I do.”

  “What does it sound like? Asked Phyllis.

  Belinda placed a finger across her lips for silence while she tried to tune in. Standing perfectly still, she relaxed to reduce the sound of blood pumping through her ears, not moving or breathing hard in case the noise prevented her hearing it again. She felt she could hear it again, faint and almost gone. She felt a tingling sensation throughout her body as if she had heard something important from her past. It was a lengthy moment before she opened her eyes. With a look of surprise across her face, she opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. She needed to rethink what she thought she had just heard, giving herself a few more moments to reconsider what she had been about to say, then said it. “Scott. I heard your name mentioned.”

  Phyllis nodded in agreement. She had already begun to think she had heard her own thoughts the first time she heard his name called. But following the second time, she felt there could be no doubt whatsoever. That was when she needed a second opinion, and Belinda had given her that. Scott stood silent, trying to come to terms with what he had just been told. After seeing the rows of cases, complete with bodies of men, women and children, he’d almost given up any hope of finding his sweetheart alive. But now he felt revitalised, kicked back into life by the agreeing words from his female companions.

  “Who said my name?” he urgently asked.

  Both women looked at each other, nodding along with certain eye movements that suggested they were communicating with each other. He couldn’t hear any conversation so concluded it was a visual method of discussion. They conferred with their eyes to either agree or disagree with who or what they thought was the source of his name, reaching a conclusion with the sign of extended arms and open palms as if
to say they agreed with each other and there was no need to discuss it anymore. Phyllis nodded one final time, as if to agree that as the team leader of the group it was up to Belinda to answer his question. With a barely audible sigh, Belinda relented and accepted the responsibility.

  “Both Phyllis and I are in agreement, Scott.”

  He stirred himself into standing up straight as if on a parade ground waiting for a march to begin, poised to hear what information they had to tell him. He hoped for the answer he had been praying for.

  “We think the origin is… Frell.”

  There was a lengthy pause from each of them, with an engulfing silence as dense as pea-soup fog. Scott had to think about what he had heard, asking Belinda to repeat it.

  Before answering, she turned to face Phyllis for her agreement. Recognising a nod of approval, Belinda looked back to Scott. “It sounds like, Frell. She is calling your name.”

  His legs seemed to give way beneath him as he dropped to his knees. The sense of relief was so enormous he cupped his face in his hands feeling he could burst into tears of joy. He was speechless with emotion. Belinda and Phyllis felt the same way.

  A moment passed, with all swallowing hard to try and keep control of their feelings. Each wanted to say something but couldn’t manage the words. It wasn’t until a few minutes had passed that Scott managed to find his voice again, hoping his feelings were under control. “Do we know where she is? And is Drang with her?”

  Belinda replied. “I only heard her call by telepathic means, but there is something not right in her message.”

  He didn’t want any bad news, not at this stage in the dangerous game.

  Phyllis interrupted. “It seems as if she is calling like a pre-recorded message. Almost as if her thoughts have been captured or frozen in time.” She clapped her hands together in realisation, understanding the circumstances that Frell and Drang were probably in.

  “That is it, Phyllis. You have worked out where they are.” Called out Belinda with happiness.

  “Have I?” she asked. “How?”

  Smiling at her deduction, Belinda proudly answered, “Because you heard her message exactly as it is - frozen in time. And that is where they can be found.”

  Phyllis was about to ask where, when Belinda added, “They are frozen, cryogenically.”

  Scott was fast to get in the next question. “If they are frozen, how can she be calling?”

  “Because she was calling your name when she was frozen!”

  Scott wanted to ask another question but Belinda wasn’t ready to answer anything else without saying more on the subject, hoping the information might answer anything he didn’t understand or know. “Her brain patterns were actively working as the neurons were frozen, therefore, the circuit that was made and functioning would continue to operate until she was either unfrozen or…”

  “Or what!” Scott demanded to know.

  Belinda coughed slightly, trying to buy time because she didn’t want to use the word, dead. She couldn’t think of another appropriate word to use in its place. Phyllis jumped in, with, “Released.”

  Scott turned his attention to Phyllis, visualising Frell being released, although he thought they had let him down slowly by the use of a clever word that was final. But as he didn’t wish to pursue the word he had expected to hear, he allowed it to slip past in the hope it would never arise again.

  Belinda was quick to take advantage of the short lull and suggested they make a move to find them. Scott agreed, as did Phyllis while looking at the hands of the encased female pilot before her own.

  “Holy sonovabitch,” Scott blurted out with no conception of how loud he had said it or how far it might have travelled.

  Belinda almost jumped and Phyllis nearly wet herself with Scott’s loud outburst.

  “Belinda. Phyllis. Can the Greys replace biological organs in situ without invasive surgery?”

  Neither spoke straight away as they were still gathering their thoughts after Scott’s rapturous awakening.

  “Hello! Is there anyone else here or am I on my friggen own here? Hello-o-o-o-o-!”

  Both women stepped forwards, indicating he should keep the noise level down. “We do not know who might be listening,” Belinda stated while shooing him with her arms as if to tell him to shut up.

  He hesitated, saying, “Oops!”

  “Fuck’s sake,” Phyllis uttered to the other two’s astonishment. “You almost made me empty my bladder,” she said to Scott with eyes that indicated she was angry.

  Belinda was speechless, as Scott replied with an exhaled breath as a form of surprise. Gathering his wits, he said with a smile, “You quite literally take my breath away with some of your chosen words, Phyllis.”

  Phyllis wasn’t in any mood for humour and quickly replied, “So?”

  He missed the moment because he had been taken by surprise at her quick and unhelpful answer. Then picked up the mode of conversation by saying, “So… I’m impressed.”

  This seemed to have the desired effect as Phyllis appeared to calm down. Her shoulders relaxed and her eyebrows didn’t seem so slanted. Her inner self had returned to take control, while the Scott’s external human influence passed.

  “Oh, I am so sorry. I did not mean to say anything like I did. I feel very embarrassed by it.” She looked down at her feet, then back to her hands. Scott saw the looks and the case with the gorgeous Amelia Earhart beyond her. He put two and two together, arriving at the correct answer. It wasn’t every time he could be so precise with his reckoning, but on this occasion he surpassed himself. “Let me ask that question once again for those who are slower than others,” he said with obvious sarcasm. “Can the Greys replace biological organs in situ without invasive surgery?”

  Phyllis gave his question some thought. My hands are damaged beyond repair and the poor lady in the case does not require hers any more. The Greys have the means to replace my hands with hers. Then she answered him. “Yes, they can. The Greys have the technical ability and the apparatus to do it. The Grey commander on Mars said so, but I do not know if his answer can be trusted. Whether they really have the equipment here is another matter.”

  Scott said, “Yes! At last! We might have the answer to your problem, Phyllis, as long as the equipment you mention is here.”

  Phyllis blushed quietly as Belinda cut in with, “But we do not know where the apparatus is or how to use it.”

  “That’s right, but I bet there’s a really, really nice little Grey bastard around here someplace that would just love to help us out.”

  Both women were quiet, wondering what devious plan Scott was formulating. There wasn’t a single Grey this side of the galaxy who would volunteer to help them, so where might he be going with his plans. Phyllis hoped whatever it was it would be successful and not take very long to do. She was about to ask him what he was thinking, when a flash of light burst into the chamber from a long way along the corridor, silencing her unspoken question.

  An interstellar ship arrived above Martian airspace, hovering above the basin where the partially damaged base was situated. Without any communications from the base, the ship was not prepared to approach without any kind of verification that all was well. The crew could only assume there was a problem and hoped it was technical. They decided to wait, hoping there would be a response to their hailing.

  In the base, the few Grey clones who remained worked incessantly in their attempts to restore the communications system. Having already recovered the body parts of those who had perished by human hands and weaponry, the remains were fed to those animals that inhabit the depths of the subsurface seas. A full account was documented, complete with any evidence of the assailants that intruded into the base and caused such immense havoc and death. The Empire would take any amount of time and energy to recover the ship that was taken by the escaping criminals, but would be unable to approach the Council for retribution as the Martian base was secret and completely unofficial. The Beagle recovery group�
��s junior commander sat in the damaged control room, swinging slowly around in the swivel chair while waiting to hear updates from his repair team. The base had been secured, the bodies were disposed of, damaged doors were reformed and locked, surveillance equipment was reinstated and decontamination procedures were continuing. The commander hated to think he was breathing an atmosphere that filthy viral infected humans exhaled not so long before.

  A telepathic message was sent, making the commander stop swivelling the chair within which he sat to stand upright. They were ready to test the communications system and would be transmitting wildly across their own frequencies in an attempt to make contact with any vessel and the Earth base soonest. The commander sat down again, leaning forwards to reach a panel of switches that powered the comprehensive array of communications. A built-in-test booted into life, working its methodical way through one circuit then another, taking little more than nanoseconds to complete the initial stage before finally testing its signal and receiving transmissions.

  The orbiting ship’s captain was hailed as the first received transmission was heard. There followed a complete cycle of transmissions, working their way up the ladder of frequencies. He recognised there was a test in progress and understood the problem was the failure of the Martian base’s communication network. He wondered why it had failed. He gave the order for communications to be reinstated as soon as the test was completed, with questions regarding the reasons for the failure to be sent quickly. Permission to approach and berth was also required, but only if the appropriate codes were found acceptable. An interruption of communications was always a suspicious occurrence and every care should be taken to confirm all was in order before any landing would progress.

  Scott and his companions had crept towards the light’s source, maintaining a silent approach while listening intently. There was what looked like a trolley carrying a transparent case similar to the type that contained bodies. The trolley had no wheels and hovered a few centimetres above the floor while emitting a faint humming sound. Scott recognised the sound as similar to that of an electrical transformer and wondered if there was an electrically generated magnetic field, where its flux enabled the case to be suspended. He watched for a few moments, searching with his eyes for any person or Grey that might be nearby. At first there didn’t seem to be anyone before a solitary figure appeared. It wasn’t one of the little guys, but a senior member of the base staff. It was difficult to ascertain any particular features associated with this individual, especially as they all looked the same anyway. The face had the usual almond shaped eyes and slight nostrils, but the face was lit by a green luminous glow from somewhere on top of the case. The eyes were transfixed on the source of the light and Scott supposed there was some kind of work involved here. Also, he considered, the individual’s night vision would be shot to hell because of the light shining on its face. Unfortunately for Scott, the Grey eye lacked any kind of an iris, which meant its vision was not impaired should it turn to look into the surrounding gloom. As Scott approached, his silence was almost perfect, hardly any sound was made. His bulk wasn’t so easy to conceal and the Grey spotted him while he was still about ten metres away. Belinda was instantly aware of Scott’s detection, observing the Grey abruptly raising his head as his telepathic senses kicked-in. Without hesitation, Belinda and Phyllis rushed forward from behind Scott, lunging at the Grey and knocked him flying. The shock and surprise of another two individuals rushing at him interrupted his message of warning to the rest of the base. With their combined weight knocking him off his feet before thumping onto the hard floor, he was shocked into silence. His head took the worst of the fall where an almighty cracking sound could be heard to echo along the hall. Scott ran up to them, ready to take hold of the prisoner if he should attempt to resist capture. Belinda slowly stood up while Phyllis remained crouched with her head held low.