by Peter David
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’m okay.”
She got to her feet, dusting herself off. Almost as an afterthought, she said, “Thanks for saving my ass, by the way. I shouldn’t have lost it like that.”
“I’ve seen professional soldiers lose it over far less. And you’re welcome.” He glanced in the direction of the Jeep. “We’re gonna get some guns.”
Sam looked at Mick and realized what he was talking about. The prospect of going over to the scene of such carnage, getting within range of those severed body parts … It wasn’t as if they could hurt her, but still …
She shook her head. “No. I can’t.”
“You can.” He pushed her firmly toward the still drivable Jeep. “Move. You’ll thank me if you’re holding a weapon when something jumps out at us.”
Steeling herself, she stayed beside him as they crept toward the site of the destruction. She tried to ignore the blood that was seeping everywhere and stepped carefully around a stream of it that was staining the dirt dark red.
Mick made it to the nearest Jeep. It had been torn to pieces, but Mick could still access the backseat, where a shotgun was sticking out. He gripped it by the barrel, standing clear of the business end just in case, and slowly extracted it from the vehicle. He looked it over carefully to make sure that nothing was bent, which Sam thought was a smart idea. The last thing they needed was to have the thing blowing up in their faces if they had to use—
Suddenly there was a crashing sound and a streak of movement in the brush nearby. Mick spun, training the shotgun, ready to open fire on what Sam was certain would be an oncoming alien. We were idiots to come out into the open like this, oh my God, we’re going to die …
And then a dark-haired, bearded man staggered out of the thick brush, covered in dirt and sweat. He took one look at the gun, and the man who was holding it, and let out a terrified shriek. He put his hands up in the air.
“Don’t shoot! Are you trying to get away? If you’re leaving, take me with you!”
“Why should we?” Mick kept the gun level. “How do we know you’re not one of them? This could be one of those Body Snatchers deals.”
“I swear to you, I’m not!”
Mick paused and then said challengingly, “What’s your favorite football team?”
“What?” The man blinked and then said, “I’m … I’m not into football, really.”
Mick chambered a round.
His voice going up an octave, the man cried out, “I like baseball, though!”
“Which team?”
“The Cubs!”
Mick took this in and then lowered the rifle. “He’s legit. An alien conqueror would have said the Yankees.”
Sam wasn’t entirely sure she understood the reasoning, but it seemed to satisfy Mick, and he was the one with the field experience. “Who are you?” she asked the stranger.
“I’m Calvin Zapata. Doctor Calvin Zapata. We …” He tried to wipe the dirt from his face and only succeeded in smearing it around some more. “We sent out a beacon. To contact intelligent life in deep space. We monitor it from an outpost on top of the mountain.”
It took Sam a few moments to fully process what Zapata was saying to her, and when she did, her eyes widened in shock. “So you invited them here?”
He started to nod but then quickly shook his head. “Not me. Them. Others. I mean, yes, I work for the Project, but I tried to tell them this could happen. The program really just hoped that if we ever made contact, they were going to be …”
“Nice?” said Mick.
Zapata nodded.
“Yeah, well,” and he nodded toward the remains of the police officers. “They’re not.”
Understatement of the year, thought Sam.
USS JOHN PAUL JONES
Hopper had managed to pick up some of the damage he’d inflicted on his quarters. Now he lay on his bunk, staring at a photograph of himself and his brother. The picture was intact, but there was a crack in the glass. The crack ran lengthwise and divided the two brothers from each other. Not too damned symbolic.
There was a knock at the door and it swung open before Hopper even had the chance to signal that whoever it was could enter. Beast loomed in the entranceway, and Hopper could tell from the all-business expression on his face that he wasn’t there to inquire after Hopper’s health.
“Sir, we need you.”
Hopper didn’t respond at first. Then, his voice low and heavy, he spoke—not to Beast, but to his brother’s image in the picture. “I can’t do this.”
“We need you, sir,” Beast repeated, as if Hopper hadn’t spoken, or even heard him.
This time he looked straight at Beast. “I. Can’t.”
“If you can’t, who can, sir?”
Hopper propped himself up on his elbows. “What the hell’s so important? What do you need me for?”
“We’ve pulled one out of the water. During the Myoko rescue—”
“What are you talking about? I thought we pulled all of them out of—” He stopped as he realized what Beast was talking about. His hands started to tremble. Immediately he sat fully upright. “One of … them?” Beast nodded. “But … how—?”
“Judging by the bullet holes in its armor, I’m pretty sure it’s the one that Raikes shot to hell.”
“But if that’s the case, why isn’t it just lying at the bottom of the ocean?”
“Best guess: some sort of internal buoyancy device in the armor.”
“And how would that work?”
“I don’t know. But I thought you’d want to be there when we dissect the bastard and find out.”
Damned right I want to be there. This is the one small triumph we have over those creatures, and I want to be there for every second of it.
“Where is it?”
“Helicopter bay.”
Hopper gave one more determined look at the picture of Stone and him. “We killed one of them,” he said grimly. “And if we did that, we can kill all of them. Let’s go.”
Minutes later Hopper entered the helicopter bay. Raikes, Ord, and various crewmen from both ships were gathered around a table upon which a dead alien warrior was lying. Nearest to it was Nagata, who was staring down at it with cold fury. He looked ready to rip the thing apart with his bare hands. All eyes went to Hopper as he entered.
They were waiting for me. Of course they waited for me. I’m the commanding officer. He was still having trouble thinking of himself in that capacity. “Let’s have a look at it,” he said briskly.
Ord said nervously, “You’re gonna touch it? Maybe it’s radioactive or something …”
“Running a Geiger counter over it was the first thing we did when we brought it on board,” said Beast.
“Okay, but maybe it’s got some kind of alien virus or something.”
“No one’s putting a gun to your head to make you be here,” Raikes said to Ord with obvious annoyance.
“It’s first contact, Raikes. It’s freaking history. Where else would I be?”
“Hiding under your bunk, swabbing yourself down with Purell?”
“Stow it, both of you,” said Hopper, having no patience for his crew’s banter right then. He looked silently at Nagata, who simply nodded his head, and the two of them got down to business.
It took them several moments to work the helmet free. Finally they managed to turn it counterclockwise and there was a loud click-clack. Taking that as a good sign, they slowly pulled the helmet free. It produced a strange sucking sound and then the creature’s face was exposed. It was even more hideous than when Hopper had seen it from a distance.
He and Nagata looked down at it in bewilderment. Then a burst of liquid from some sort of tube spurted out at the two commanders, hitting them in the face.
“Acid!” Ord cried out. “It’s spitting acid at you!”
“No,” said Hopper, blinking furiously. “Salt water.” A handkerchief was being thrust toward him. He turned and saw that Nagata was holding it, offe
ring it to him. Without a word he took it and wiped the salt water from his face. In retrospect, maybe wearing a pair of goggles might not have been a bad idea.
“Must be some kind of hydration system,” said Beast.
His comment barely registered. They were all dealing with various degrees of shock, and it was easy to understand why. Mankind’s first extended encounter, face-to-face, with an alien life form, and it was happening right on their ship. And it was happening under the most mundane conditions possible. Not with a flying saucer descending into Central Park or perhaps on the front lawn of the White House—with an alien being in a silver lamé space suit stepping out and announcing in a stentorian voice, “Take me to your leader.” No, instead it was on a makeshift operating table, like something out of a damned police procedural. CSI: ET. Or maybe SVU: UFO.
Hopper tried to keep his hands from trembling as he turned the head of the alien left, then right. In addition to the blue-green of its face, it had strange markings that he couldn’t even begin to translate, and what looked more than anything like a growth of stalactites coming from its chin. The alien equivalent of a beard? Bone structure extending from its skull? He had no clue.
“My dad used to say they’d come,” said Raikes softly. “Said it his whole life. ‘We ain’t alone. There’s no way.’ He said one day we’re gonna find them or they’re gonna find us.”
“Yeah,” said Ord.
“Know what else he said?” said Raikes.
“What?” said Ord.
“He said, ‘I hope I’m not around when that day comes,’ ” said Raikes.
“Uh—” Ord paused and then asked innocently, “Did he say anything about you being there and shooting the crap out of it?”
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You want a firsthand re-creation of how it went down?”
“Last warning, the both of you,” said Hopper sharply. He turned to Beast. “Give me your flashlight,” he said.
“Gloves,” said Ord urgently. “At least glove up, sir.”
Hopper stopped and turned to him. “Ord, I understand you’re a little freaked out. So I’m going to say this once, nice and patient: Calm the hell down.”
Ord forced a nod. “Roger wilco, Captain. I’m calm. I’m, like, neurosurgeon calm. Buddha calm. Buddha Buddha Buddha.”
“One more word and I’m going to let Raikes shoot you.”
Raikes smiled in anticipation.
Ord promptly shut up.
Beast handed Hopper a Maglite. The reluctant captain leaned in close to the alien’s face, studying it. He flicked the light on and shined it directly into the alien’s eyes.
Saline systems have been interrupted, but the damage is minimal. Fluids are rerouted; life support systems functioning at acceptable levels.
The Regent’s regeneration cycle is complete. Internal damage repaired. External damage repaired. Retrieval signal has been sent. Retrieval is imminent.
His eyes, fully healed, focus on a light source. The system’s star? No. Far more concentrated. A portable light device of some manner.
His eyes snap open and he sees a human staring down into his face. There are other humans nearby.
He does not perceive any of them as being the humans who attacked him in a tiny vessel. He does not recognize the female as the one who incommoded him by shooting at him and disrupting his armor. All humans look alike to him. They are not worthy of individual attention.
All he knows is that the human with the light source is within unacceptably close proximity, and the light is painfully bright.
The alien’s eyes snapped open and, before Hopper could react, it lunged at him.
Ord leaped back, warnings of remaining silent forgotten. “Not dead! Not dead!” he screamed.
The alien’s hands clamped around Hopper’s throat.
Hopper gurgled helplessly as he felt long nails digging into his neck. It’s going to rip the skin clean off me …
He was face to face with the monster, its burning eyes glaring at him, as Nagata and Beast came in from either side and tried to pull it off him.
It reacted to the light. It nearly freaked out at the light. Hopper immediately shoved the Maglite into the alien’s eyes. If the flashlight had been a Taser, it couldn’t have elicited any more of a response, as the alien jumped back violently, releasing Hopper as it did so.
The human is resourceful. It is adept at utilizing objects at hand in an offensive capacity. This notation had been added to the mission log.
Retrieval is imminent.
Retrieval is now.
Before Hopper could react—before he could do anything—there was a deafening explosion, similar to a flashbang grenade, but louder and brighter and with far greater concussive force. All Hopper knew for sure was that one moment he was still on his feet, pulling away from the alien, and the next he was hurtling through the air and coming down hard on his back.
The world around him was one huge riot of noise and strobing lights. From his vantage point on the floor, Hopper tried to shield his eyes and make out what the hell had happened.
The blood practically froze in his veins as he saw more of the aliens pouring in. He had quick glimpses of his crew on the floor, being either stepped over or kicked aside by the invaders. Hopper began to struggle to his feet but he never came close to standing fully upright, as a thick fist slammed down on the back of his neck, sending him sprawling to the floor once more. This is it. They’re going to kill us all. They’re taking the ship. They’re taking …
… their man?
The aliens had grabbed their fellow, who’d been upright on the table. It was staggering but capable of locomotion, and hung on the shoulders of one of its rescuers as they headed out of the helicopter bay. Hopper worked on getting to his feet and this time he made it, lurching after them. He had no idea what he would do if he overtook them; he wasn’t wearing a sidearm—a mistake he’d be sure to rectify in the future, should there be a future—and he was also considerably outnumbered. But the bastards had overrun his ship and he’d make sure there would be hell to pay for it.
As it turned out, his pursuit quickly became a moot point. He made it up to the chopper deck, only to stagger as he saw what appeared to be some sort of alien flying vessel rising into the air. It’s not a stinger? They have other vehicles? What else do they have at their disposal that they haven’t shown us yet?
Hopper stood there, bathed in the white light that the alien vessel was generating from beneath. Someone was suddenly at his side and he jumped slightly into a defensive posture before he realized it was Nagata. He saw his own exhaustion, confusion, and overall dazed demeanor mirrored in Nagata’s face. Who knew that we’d finally have something in common: total bewilderment.
Together they watched helplessly as the alien ship angled away, the engines insanely quiet for something that big.
“I got a really bad feeling,” said Hopper.
Nagata looked at him curiously. “What kind of feeling?”
“A ‘We’re gonna need a new planet’ kinda feeling.”
Nagata didn’t laugh, or even smile. Which was fine, because as far as Hopper was concerned, it wasn’t a joke.
The noiselessness of the huge vessel helped Hopper understand why the aliens had managed to get the drop on them. With the radar out and the ship’s instruments unable to detect the presence of alien vehicles anyway, the thing had probably dropped in from the sky so quickly, so quietly, that no one had time to react to it. Or perhaps it had even snuck up on them underwater and then leaped from beneath to land on the chopper deck.
“No man left behind,” said Hopper softly. When Nagata stared at him, not understanding, he continued. “Maybe they’re not so alien after all. That’s got to be their version of ‘leave no man behind.’ You get one alive … they come for it.”
Nagata nodded. “It makes sense,” he said.
Wow. He’s agreed with me on something. What’re the odds?
Suddenly Raikes came charging out
of the bay from behind them, urgency on her face. Hopper put up his hands and said, “Slow down, Raikes. They’re gone.”
As if Hopper hadn’t spoken, she said, “We just got a report. Medical casualty C-52. Two men down.”
“In C-52? That’s—”
“Engineering,” said Raikes.
The full implications of that news struck home. “They’re still on board,” Hopper whispered. Then, speaking with authority, he said, “Lock down the ship. And tell Beast he’s not to go anywhere near—”
Raikes’s expression immediately informed him what the next words out of her mouth were going to be. “He already made a beeline down there. It’s his house, Captain,” she added, as if apologizing for Beast’s precipitous actions.
“Goddammit!” said Hopper, snarling. He was already moving, and seconds later was joined by a small craft action team—SCAT—weapons at the ready. “We have a hostile on board! Lock and load, people!”
As Beast sprinted toward the engine room, he heard a hollow, repeated booming sound in the distance, echoing through the corridors. He made it into the main engine control center just in time to see several of his people backing up, their eyes wide with terror, their gazes fixed upon a sealed hatch down at the bottom of a flight of stairs that led to a companionway. The hatch, or rather what was on the other side of it, was the source of the noise. Something was pounding on the hatch cover. A human fist wouldn’t have even been heard. This thing was making a noise like a sledgehammer.
But even a human armed with a sledgehammer wouldn’t have made any progress on actually getting through the hatch. The cover was designed to hold back thousands of pounds of water, should the ship’s hull be breached, giving the sailors time to reach higher ground and safety.
Now, instead, the hatch cover was showing signs of wear and tear. It was visibly dented, and its bolts had begun to bend, to buckle. As if sensing impending success, the pounding intensified.
“Get out of here,” said Beast, just as the door gave way.