“What’s the matter? Is he unconscious or something? He asked softly while looking for any movement in case it was playing possum.
“It’s… the something, Scott.”
“Eh?” he said. “What does that mean?”
Phyllis raised her head and looked at Scott. “You asked if he was unconscious… or something?”
“Erm, yeah. I did. That’s right. So what’s the some…” He stopped as he began to appreciate what she was inferring, almost afraid to say another word.
Belinda took hold of his hand. “The something means he’s dead, Scott.”
“Shit!”
“Yes, Scott.” Phyllis said. “It is shit.”
Belinda turned to look at her companion, showing a little concern about her choice of words again. Phyllis stood her ground and looked defiantly at the body, saying loudly, “This Grey has had Frell and Drang captive for a long time, keeping them here against their will, and that makes him a shit.”
Belinda remained silent while Scott gently clapped his hands together, saying, “Bravo, Phyllis.”
Belinda took a step away from the prone body of the Grey, sighing gently, before saying, “I guess it means there is one less shit to deal with, then?”
“Yep. It sure as hell does.” Scott replied while wondering how many more there might be. He removed the revolver and broke it open to check if the six rounds were still there. With a snap action, the revolver was closed and ready for any other interfering Grey. Both women looked at Scott, anticipating more killing before the mission was completed.
The ship’s captain watched the test’s indicated response give a positive signal. The unique codes between the base and the ship were exchanged and compared, with another positive signal received. The order was given to make preparations for descent, but no movement until a reason for the breakdown in communications was learned and accepted. It would be underway within a short period of time, the captain was informed. He waited, anxious to know.
Stepping through an open doorway into a corridor, the women followed Scott with the gun pointing ahead. “Oh, bugger this,” he said while quickening his pace. “We haven’t got all bloody day.”
“Wait!” alerted Belinda. “There is someone coming.”
All three stood still, listening while wondering where the someone was coming from. A door adjacent to them slid open, revealing a Grey with what looked like a startled look across his pale face. Scott grabbed it by the throat, his fingers going all the way around. Lifting the individual off its feet, he carried it into the corridor while the door automatically closed behind them. They all heard the shriek, which let them know this grey was extremely worried. Scott’s strong grip made its eyes appear to bulge from its head, whereupon, they actually were.
“You are choking it to death, Scott,” insisted Belinda.
“It could help repair my hands,” added Phyllis.
Scott released his iron-grip and, along with Belinda, turned to look at Phyllis’s wrecked hands.
“Shit!” he said.
“Shit nothing,” Phyllis added. “Can he help me?”
Belinda moved closer to the Grey, looking into its eyes from very close quarters. The Grey pulled its head back as if frightened of her and her possible intent. Belinda didn’t use telepathy to communicate, she instead spoke into what there was of a left ear and whispered. Neither Scott nor Phyllis could hear what she said, but each felt they could probably guess. The Grey seemed to nod his head as if agreeing to something. They waited to learn what it might be. Belinda continued to whisper into its ear with the occasional press from a clenched right fist into its face as if to threaten it. Scott couldn’t feel any sympathy for this individual that was cornered like a rat in a trap, and hoped all would turn out well. Belinda finally placed a hand on one of its shoulders and gave it a squeeze, and not so gently either. It looked like another warning, thought Scott.
“It knows how to replace your hands, Phyllis.” Belinda said proudly. “And where Frell and Drang are situated.”
Phyllis exhaled sharply, looking upwards as if to show relief, while Scott exclaimed, “Thank fuck!”
Phyllis raised her arms, turning the palms of her hands upwards, showing the Grey her missing fingers and damaged flesh. The Grey didn’t move or show any form of concern, but it certainly understood these were desperate humans who would kill him without hesitation. Belinda made sure he did. He saw the weapon in Scott’s hand, understanding his life would be extinguished should he fail to comply with their demands. He had accepted the woman’s offer and would replace the damaged hands if they would release him following completion. He had no choice but to agree to her terms, but would be on the alert for a method of escape throughout. The grey turned them back towards the direction from where they’d come from, indicating with a hand they should follow.
The captain was quick to understand the reasons given for the failure, giving the order to descend immediately. All the ship’s crew were informed of the base’s status and all engineering personnel were to be prepared for repairs and to give assistance to the work already underway. He was also to assume command of the base as he now held the superior rank. The doors were already open for its welcomed arrival, with red dust blowing in to the base from a brewing storm outside. With a flurry of dust and clouds of red, the ship entered the base and settled onto its legs. As soon as the hangar-type enclosure was repressurised, and even before the dust had settled, scores of Grey clones were filing out of the ship. The bodies might have been removed, but the arrivals couldn’t help but notice a few limbs had gone unnoticed by the clean-up crew. The captain secured his vessel, being last to leave, ensuring the only access doors were controlled by him and him alone. He had changed the security codes to that of his own personal bio-frequency, so no other being could open them. No human filth will take my ship away from here, he thought.
The submarine was almost at the Azores, when the signal to surface was announced. The skipper had all but handed his command over to the man who he hoped would be her next skipper. He was as knowledgeable about the ship as he was, with the extra energy and vitality of a younger mind and body. The crew respected him as a competent sailor and leader, where being firm and fair was as important as being able to run a relaxed ship. Personnel were manning their stations in anticipation of reaching the surface. It would soon be a bumpier voyage, with waves washing across the deck as opposed to sailing beneath them. They would be subjected to the sea’s swell and roll, but the scent of fresh sea air and perhaps the call of sea birds would make it all worthwhile. Headquarters were informed of the ship’s position and its stood-down military bearing was being transmitted to shore. The security services had to be alerted to the weaponry held onboard so the appropriate level of security could be initiated as soon as it dropped anchor.
The harbour bars were stocking up for the thirsty crew who were about to emerge from the steel can while local women were looking out their most seductive finery.
The skipper was completely relaxed as he looked at images of golf-courses around the world on the computer screen in front of him. It’ll be a night of few speeches and celebration tonight, he thought, knowing that his arrival back at the main base would be a rather more sober affair. Tonight he could let his hair down. Or he would if he had any, he muttered to himself.
The three followed the Grey, staying very close to him in case he tried something sneaky. If the prisoner thought about escaping they wanted to know about it before he did. Scott was ready to grab him by the throat again, should he try anything; and ready to rip his head off should he try to communicate. He didn’t want to use the gun; it was loud in its retort and would possibly waken half the dead in the cases as well as letting every Grey within a hundred leagues know there was something wrong. It would have to be a physical stoppage, he knew. The gun was a last resort tactic. They stopped in front of a double-door entrance, a large pair of huge metal plates with no apparent hinges. The Grey stepped closer while Scott plac
ed a hand around his neck. Scott could have sworn the Grey swallowed a gulp as if the sensation of a hand at his neck worried him. There was a loud clunking sound, followed by a feeling of vibration through their feet. It wasn’t two doors, only one, and it rose from the floor, disappearing into the roof like a huge guillotine being reloaded for its next royalist. They watched this monstrous gate rise about twenty feet before its movements ceased.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Scott said perplexingly, “Why the fuck don’t these stupid Grey bastards use small doors instead of huge monsters like this? What’s the point?”
The women didn’t share their thoughts, but they agreed nonetheless.
Beyond the door was what looked like a laboratory or something straight out of Dr Frankenstein’s Castle? There were two massive tubes and various smaller containers, lots of flashing lights and discharging lightning bolts that zapped between two silver electrodes. With a soft sound of bubbling and the vicious cracks of electricity that almost hurt his ears Scott tried sticking his fingers into his ears. It didn’t have much of an effect at softening the noise so gave up trying. Combined while the powerful smell of ozone and some sort of chemical, it was a picture of insanity at its best. He gave the little Grey an enormous push forward, moving him into the room and further away from the door. Belinda approached the Grey from behind with Scott still hanging onto his scrawny neck. She told the grey to close the door immediately, or else!” No sooner had she said it, it was closing. Phyllis moved ahead of everyone, oblivious to what the others were doing behind her. She initially moved rapidly, then ever so cautiously after she spied a platform like an altar with a pair of large metal tubes, one on either side and big enough to take a person in each. She wondered if this might be the apparatus that could replace her hands. She looked down at them, almost crying with sadness as she saw the stumps of fingers with red and blackened wounds. She had been born with these hands and they had served her well. They had been in perfect condition until the small orb had backfired and blown them apart. She allowed her arms to fall by her sides, unwilling to look at them again. She really wished the accident had never happened, but happen it had. She was left with no choice now whatsoever, they had to be replaced or she would never be able to continue as a ship’s co-ordinator any more. The decision was made, it had to be done. Her human colony didn’t have the ability or the technology to do it, and those who did probably wouldn’t help without persuasion.
Even though the colony to which she belonged were accepted by the members of the Council, few would actually give help if and when required. Across the cosmos, humans were seen as a blight, even by incredibly intelligent species from distant systems. The colony might be able to travel extensively across space, but the help and assistance provided by other species’ was limited in order to persuade them to stay within their unofficially dictated boundaries. It had gone unwritten that humans were tolerated as long as they didn’t pose a threat to the rest of inhabited space, which, for this reason, humans on their planet were cursed for trying to expand their knowledge of space travel and interstellar exploration. The simple and basic voyager spacecraft that left the solar system while carrying a disk of announcement and an invitation to visit was now trapped on the surface near the Council of Six’s headquarters. It was hermetically sealed and enclosed within a vacuum sphere, prohibiting any from gaining access and anything from escaping. The security measures were quite uncalled for as no species with any amount of intelligence would consider entering the structure as it might be riddled with harmful viruses and bacteria, which humans were acquainted with. The blue planet could have been a utopia but for the presence of the human species who existed upon it and had set about destroying it through stupid greed, selfishness and malevolence. As for the colony, they were being kept as a failsafe mechanism in case the humans on Earth destroyed themselves or contaminated their DNA beyond recovery, so the original organism could be restored. And should the human species on Earth manage to successfully get itself into a peaceful and resourceful community where one people, one vision arrived, they could also be used as points of first contact, ambassadors on behalf of the Council - although that opportunity wasn’t ever expected to happen. Humans were classified as unfriendly, unruly, untrusting, unworthy and grossly unhealthy. There was no place for them in space.
The Grey indicated he wanted Phyllis to lie on the altar. Scott gave his neck another squeeze to remind him if anything went wrong he wouldn’t be able to kiss his arse goodbye because his head would be missing. The Grey seemed to change colour to a much lighter shade as Scott’s violent intensions began to sink in. Scott wasn’t a nasty guy by any means, but when his companions were threatened, and while Frell and Drang were locked in ice, he would tear the head off any shoulders without hesitation or regret. While the rest of intelligent space saw humans as filth, he saw Greys’ as murderous, abducting, scheming little bastards who wouldn’t be missed if they became extinct.
Phyllis was already climbing on to the altar-like structure. She hoped she wasn’t about to be used as a sacrificial lamb to any Grey deity, of which there were many, she knew. As her body lay flat and her head rested, a globe with millions of needles lowered itself from directly above. It wasn’t suspended by any obvious means; it just sort of hung there. Neither woman seemed surprised by such a device, which seemed to reassure Scott. One of the tubes tipped over before sliding horizontally to surround the altar that levitated itself off the floor, with Phyllis lying quite still. Belinda motioned across to the Grey and told him about the case containing their preferred donor, quoting its whereabouts and the name of the woman. The Grey listened carefully before programming a set of co-ordinates into a control panel. The tube that now surrounded Phyllis became cloudy, with a bluish haze circulating within. The globe was almost touching the tube and thin lines of plasma crackled between the two. No sound came from Phyllis, nothing said or screamed. Scott found the silence restful and hoped all was well. To help persuade the Grey that his word was to be believed, Scott released his grip. The freed individual allowed a sound that could have been one of relief or joy to escape its mouth, while it looked towards his releasing captor, giving a nod of approval or thanks. Scott held up his right hand and clenched his fist tightly, as if to say, fuck with us and I’ll ring your fucking neck! The grey colour never fully returned after that little exhibition by Scott, when by all accounts it looked as if it might have following his release. Belinda understood what the grey was already considering. The fact he was already in the presence of three humans, with physical contact and close proximity impossible to conceal from its masters, his fate was already sealed. The Empire would isolate him, debrief him on his experiences and knowledge of those who had assaulted him, while preparing to destroy him immediately afterwards. There was no way his presence would be allowed to enter into the Grey system again. He had seen and heard too much, been exposed to the diseases they might carry while complying with their requests to save himself instead of putting the Empire first. The Grey himself wondered if there might be some sort of sanctuary within the Council of Six for a member of the Empire who assisted humans from the unearthly colony. This was an unprecedented thought by a Grey, a first for all time, but he couldn’t tell the group by telepathy what he was considering. Others could pick up the conversation, which would endanger any devised plan. His ability to speak was practically non-existent so the only other option open to him was writing. But, unfortunately for him, there were no materials available and time was running out. The body of Amelia Earhart arrived within its case. It entered the laboratory through an aperture in the wall to one side of the group, steadily floating a few inches above the floor. It approached the altar, stopping alongside. The second tube rotated to surround the case. It too started with a cloudy blue coloured haze circulating within it.
“How long will the process take?” asked Scott, scratching his head nervously.
Belinda had no idea, so turned to ask the Grey. The reply was telepathic. B
oth Belinda and Scott responded. Belinda held her head with her hands as if to say, holy shit, he might be heard. While Scott just grabbed him by the throat. The Grey would have screamed in horror knowing what he had done if Scott wasn’t already compressing his trachea with an iron grip.
An Alien Rescue Page 42