Ten Little Aliens

by Stephen Cole

  ‘Terrible shame, ain’t it.’ Roba seemed in reflective mood as he and Tovel took the weight of the robot’s bulk again. ‘Still, can’t really blame her old man for trying. Wayward girl like that needs some discipline.’

  He and Tovel started creasing up. Ben forced a few laughs himself just to fit in, but he was glad when a few seconds later the endless crunching through the flat darkness suddenly became a climb. They were nearly back where they’d started.

  ‘Welcome back. Finally.’ Haunt’s caustic voice called to them from the dimly lit passageway ahead. The rest of the welcoming committee comprised Joiks, Creben and a very miserable-looking Shade. He had his fingertips pressed to his face like he was trying to give himself a massage.

  Roba and Tovel greeted their squad, gratefully dropped the droid’s gun carriage, and spent a few moments scratching themselves all over. It had to be the fleas, Ben decided. He wondered vaguely if his naval malaria jab would cover him for alien insect bites.

  ‘Where’s Polly?’ Ben asked, darting a quick look at Earthman Shade. ‘And the Doctor?’

  ‘Back in the control room with Shel and Frog,’ said Creben, already crouching over the discarded panel and digging a knife of some kind into the cracked glass. It split open noisily, and Creben retrieved a tiny circuit. ‘The Kill-Droid we came across hadn’t fired its disintegrator, but this one...’ He tailed off as he scrutinised the circuit.

  ‘Let me guess.’ Joiks sounded even surlier than usual. This one didn’t either.’

  Creben only nodded.

  Like him, no one said a word.

  * * *

  III

  Frog and Shel led the way back to the control room. With the Doctor too absorbed in his own thoughts to make conversation, Polly set her mind to memorising their path from key parts of the architecture. The golden doors they passed through now she knew led on to the big, tomb-like hallway. The amazing tapestry of glass-fragments hanging down from the cavern roof tinkled softly as it caught some tiny breeze. The weed began to encroach on the ceilings here.

  Without its fleshy, glowing leaves, the huge abstract stone figures that guarded the final, narrow corridor would remain unseen, looking blindly on the likes of Polly as she passed.

  Sure enough, the giant statues soon came into view.

  Polly frowned. She hadn’t noticed the winged cherubs here, clinging to the great rough heads. Each cherub was the size of a man, but the proportions of the body were those of a pudgy child, with smooth fat arms and swollen stomach. The faces were hard to discern, high up as they were. Polly decided she didn’t like the figures; but since little else in this place seemed to be remotely attractive, she wondered if that perhaps was the point.

  Everything in the control room was just as they had left it.

  Except another Schirr body had vanished from the dais.

  Chapter Eight

  Cat Among the Pigeons

  I

  ‘No,’ whispered Polly hoarsely. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She’d known it even without taking in all the detail; a sense that the place was not as they’d left it.

  It was the one at the end, this time, on the left-hand side.

  The one so soaked in gore it might’ve drowned in its own blood.

  There was a sickly, decaying smell in the room. The corpse in the chair, Polly realised. The air must be getting to it now.

  But what was getting to the bodies behind the barrier?

  Frog swore, dropped the medicine tin and drew her gun.

  She looked around, uncertain where she should be pointing it.

  ‘No vibration could have caused this.’ The Doctor announced, nodding to himself as if he had expected this latest development all along. ‘It’s interesting, very interesting.

  Two of them for two of you.’

  ‘Well, if the droids had anything to do with this, then we’re OK,’ Frog said. ‘They’re screwed. They can’t do nothing else now.’

  ‘Tell me.’ The Doctor turned to Shel. ‘These killing machines of yours you brought here to fight. How were they transported?’

  ‘In the hold,’ Shel answered softly. He staggered over towards the remaining bodies, transfixed. ‘The droids were a new design, crated up so we wouldn’t see. When Haunt gave the signal, they released themselves into the drop zone to take up pre-programmed positions.’

  ‘So.’ The Doctor paused impressively. ‘You have no way of knowing if something else came aboard your ship with them.’

  ‘And left when they did,’ Polly murmured, ‘when no one was allowed to see...’

  No one said anything for a while as the implications sank in.

  ‘Even say that’s true,’ Frog said suddenly. ‘Sure, they might wanna kill us. But the Schirr are dead already. Why take them?’

  Polly shuddered. ‘They must be dead, mustn’t they? Shel, you said they were,’ she added petulantly.

  Shel nodded. ‘My instruments informed me that was the case.’ He reached for a gadget in his belt with his good hand and waved it in front of the Schirr bodies. Polly was afraid to watch too closely in case they suddenly pounced on him.

  He handed the device to the Doctor. ‘See for yourself.’

  The Doctor took the gadget gingerly, and took a few seconds to familiarise himself with its functions. ‘You put a good deal of trust in machines,’ he observed, before handing it back with a smile. ‘But I prefer to draw my own conclusions.’ With that he started to peer at each Schirr in turn, muttering under his breath and occasionally holding a crooked thumb up at arm’s length, like an artist gauging a measurement.

  Frog looked glum. She scratched the patches of stubble that were all that remained of her hair and stared about, her boggle-eyes wider than ever. ‘Who wants to tell Haunt about all this?’ she warbled.

  ‘First,’ the Doctor suggested without looking up, ‘let us be sure of what we are telling her.’

  ‘I should do it,’ announced Shel distantly. But he didn’t, he just stood there, staring at the bodies, swaying. He tottered forwards and leaned heavily on the nearest control panel, not far from the corpse in the chair, as if about to have a conversation with it.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said Frog. ‘I told you, Shel honey, you need a medic.’ She pulled something from her pocket, the size and shape of a boiled sweet, and then threw it down on the ground behind Shel. There was a crack like a starter’s pistol, and Frog leapt back. A translucent rectangular bubble the size of a couch had appeared out of nowhere.

  ‘Force mattress,’ Frog explained with a wink at the Doctor.

  ‘We all carry them, honey. Never know where you might need to bed down for the night.’

  Polly watched in fascination as Frog helped Shel, unprotesting, to lie back on the bubble. The force mattress moulded itself to his body like it was made from putty. Her patient in place, Frog retrieved the first aid tin and pulled out what looked like an aerosol. Shel plucked it from her hand and applied the spray to his wound himself.

  Frog shrugged and left him to it. She raised her gun again and started swinging it about, pointing it at shadows, making Polly decidedly nervous.

  ‘Come, come,’ chided the Doctor, looking up from his studies. ‘You’re surely not expecting to find our missing friend hiding under the table, hmm?’

  ‘Body’s got to be somewhere, don’t it?’ Frog retorted, still hunting about. ‘We saw it here last.’

  The Doctor gripped his lapels and nodded. ‘And I feel quite certain we shan’t see it here again just yet.’

  ‘You think the Schirr disintegrated like the other one?’ Polly asked hopefully.

  Before the Doctor could respond, Shel groaned loudly. A pale yellow foam now coated his bloodied arm, some sort of space-age bandage Polly supposed. He was pointing with his good arm at something under the control panel beside the dead Schirr in the chair, something only he could see at that angle.

  Frog gave an excited squawk as she peered under the control panel herself. ‘He’s right, look at this! C
ome and see!’

  ‘What?’ Polly asked nervously. Something in the woman’s voice put Polly in mind of the horrible boys back at school when she was little, who always tricked her into looking at the dead spiders or slugs they were holding, just to hear her scream. But in the end she relented. The sickly stench from the corpse got stronger as she approached, all Parma violets and rotting peaches.

  Polly was relieved to find that the fuss was over little more than a box; a small, bronze casket had been fastened to the underside of the console. A couple of wires ran out of it, lending it the appearance of an ornate junction box. An angular symbol had been etched into one side.

  The Doctor came to join her and stooped to see.

  ‘Fascinating,’ he said appreciatively. ‘It is similar to the symbol burnt into Pallemar here.’ His expression hardened.

  ‘Isn’t branding a prisoner somewhat barbaric for humans so evidently advanced, hmm?’

  It’s done when a prisoner is chipped. Pentagon Central’s file on the subject is encoded at the same time into the flesh.’

  ‘And this chipping, as you call it, is not punishment enough?’

  ‘DeCaster and his disciples revived an ancient Schirr religion,’ Shel explained. ‘They celebrate the physical form as part of their magic, a kind of cult of the body. They’ve made themselves physically perfect in their own eyes.’

  Frog giggled. ‘So when we got them, we hit them where it hurt.’ She made a hissing, sizzling sound. With the underlying grate of her voice simulator Polly found the noise truly disgusting.

  ‘The mark translates as “dissident”,’ Shel went on. ‘So we can tell. They... They all look so similar.’

  ‘How very enlightened,’ said the Doctor. ‘But if you had these criminals in your custody, how did they escape?’

  ‘At the time of Pallemar and DeCaster’s incarceration, no one had any idea of their significance in the Schirr uprising.

  The Ten... Ten-strong was able to free itself with ease. And like all Schirr dissidents, they wear their brands as... as a mark of pride.’ Shel abruptly switched his focus back to the unit. ‘It looks like s... some kind of plug-in module.’

  ‘A good guess.’ The Doctor straightened back up with a wince of pain. ‘Yes, it’s a quite recent addition. I would say it was intended to expand the functionality of this console.’

  ‘How?’ asked Frog succinctly.

  ‘It’s most interesting, yes,’ the Doctor assured them, but wouldn’t elaborate further. It hadn’t taken Polly long to learn that he could answer the most complicated questions with extraordinary ease – but a simple answer to a simple question was pretty much entirely beyond him.

  ‘Speaking of expanding functionality,’ he went on, ‘Polly, could you please check the navigational console? I believe the reducing equations I routed into the drive systems should soon be showing results.’ The Doctor chuckled almost mischievously. ‘We shan’t be ignorant of our final destination for much longer, however much our hosts would wish it.’

  Polly trotted off to the console against the far wall, eager to put some distance between her and the huge, fleshy bodies.

  She found herself transfixed by a small display screen. It glowed the prettiest shade of blue that Polly had ever seen.

  ‘Well, child?’ called the Doctor a little brusquely.

  On the screen was a single eight-digit figure. Polly called it over to him.

  The Doctor stiffened, turned away from them all, back to the bodies on the dais. Polly felt her stomach tie a knot in itself.

  ‘What does it mean?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

  The Doctor didn’t turn back round. ‘If Tovel was correct in his placing of our relative spatial position, it seems we are not being steered toward Earth’s empire after all.’ Now he turned to face Polly, and she saw his eyes were agleam, his interest fully engaged. There was even a rueful smile on his face, a chess player acknowledging his being outwitted by a worthy opponent. ‘It would appear this asteroid is on a direct path leading into the Morphiean quadrant.’

  II

  While Creben checked and double-checked the Kill-Droid’s circuits, Ben experimented with placing different amounts of pressure on his injured ankle. It seemed pretty well fine, apart from the odd protesting twinge. Even his plates weren’t aching too badly with all this traipsing about. In fact, he felt in great shape. He should probably set himself up in business some time. Yeah, that could impress Polly. You too can have a body like mine. Just go time travelling to lumps of rock in deep space.

  Ben watched as Creben rose from the splintered panel of the robot at last and handed the unhelpful circuit to Haunt.

  ‘No doubt about it,’ he announced. ‘Disintegrators have not been used. They’re fully charged.’

  Haunt gave the circuit a cursory inspection in the feeble glow of the fleaweed. She didn’t look like she even knew what she was meant to be looking at. Wasn’t it Shel who did all the technical stuff for her?

  Haunt impatiently tossed the circuit to the ground. ‘So.

  This proves the bodies must still be in those tunnels.’

  ‘We’d have found them,’ Shade piped up, hands still pressed to his face.

  ‘He’s right,’ said Roba. ‘If Joiks lost Denni round here, one group would’ve found her.’

  ‘What do you mean, “if”?’ said Joiks. ‘This was the place.’

  Roba nodded to Shade. ‘Same goes for Lindey, right, man?

  You were right on top of her.’

  Shade nodded, and winced as he did so.

  ‘Well, maybe they’re not dead, ‘Ben suggested. ‘Maybe they got away, and they’re walking about lost, looking for you?’

  Joiks shook his head. ‘You weren’t there. I heard Denni’s screams. She wasn’t walking anywhere.’

  ‘Same for Lindey,’ said Shade.

  ‘They have to be somewhere,’ Tovel reasoned. ‘In hiding, maybe. Alive or dead.’

  Haunt snorted. ‘Why would a droid deliberately hide the bodies of its victims?’

  ‘To keep the element of surprise?’ Tovel suggested.

  Creben looked round at the others, with the crafty look of someone about to put a cat among the pigeons. ‘Or maybe it had a use for them.’

  ‘What sort of a use?’ demanded Haunt. When Creben didn’t answer, she didn’t bother to hide her disappointment. ‘You’re funny. Well, whatever the reason, we need to find those bodies. We’re taking them home. And not just that, we need some answers. Denni’s webset must still have been recording when she was taken. The information could tell us a lot.’

  Ben clocked Joiks. He looked suddenly shiftier than usual.

  ‘So what are we waiting for,’ said Shade, pulling his hands away from his face. The black ridges seemed to bubble under his reddened skin in the half light. ‘Let’s get this finished.’

  ‘You don’t look too good, man,’ Tovel said.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Shade answered tersely. Even Ben, who hadn’t known the geezer for more than a few hours, could see that wasn’t true. He seemed short of breath, swaying slightly, and his eyes stared wildly out of his sweaty face. ‘Come on, let’s

  do this. We can do this.’

  ‘You’re in pain,’ Haunt said dispassionately. ‘A lot of it.

  What’s wrong?’

  Shade looked like he’d been slapped. ‘It’s nothing,’ he insisted, like a kid on the verge of tears, trying to be brave.

  Haunt reached out a hand and pinched Shade’s cheek. He screamed.

  ‘You’re very funny,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve seen people in more pain than you know how to feel, Shade.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Marshal,’ Shade said stiffly. ‘I don’t know... It’s my face... Feels like it’s bursting open -’

  Shade’s confession was cut short by Shel’s voice bursting through Haunt’s communicator.

  ‘Marshal.’ There was a tinge of urgency to his usually neutral tones. ‘I... I think you should come to control.
>
  Immediately.’

  ‘Problems?’ Haunt asked.

  A pause. ‘Something’s happened.’

  Big problems, then. Ben felt a tingle up his spine. He itched it, like he was itching the rest of his back. It was like he had sunburn or something, a tightness, a tickling soreness of the skin, spreading all over.

  ‘Ere, the Doctor and Polly are all right, aren’t -?’

  Haunt shut him up with a warning look. ‘All right, Shel,’

  she said quietly to her sleeve. ‘I’m on my way. And I’ll be bringing Shade with me. Out.’

  Shade looked down at his feet, embarrassed. ‘Marshal, I don’t need special attention.’

  ‘That’s enough out of you.’ Lovely bedside manner, thought Ben.

  She turned to Ben and the others. ‘The droids are gone, but there are still a lot of unknowns here. We don’t know where we’re going, or why. Organise yourselves into groups. Get searching. I’ll be in touch.’

  Shade followed his marshal into the gloom of the tunnel in the far wall. Ben wished he was going back too. How had he suddenly become part of Haunt’s outfit?

  ‘There he goes, Haunt’s little shadow,’ muttered Roba, unmoved by Shade’s suffering.

  ‘What’s with Shel and the secrecy?’ Tovel wondered aloud.

  ‘Why not just tell us?’

  ‘Morale, innit,’ said Ben. ‘He’d rather you heard it from Haunt once she’s had a chance to work out the words, than to take it from him off the cuff.’

  ‘Shel was the one who got us into this in the first place,’

  said Joiks.

  Tovel looked at him. ‘What’re you talking about?’

  ‘Who decided we’d fly to this stinking rock?’

  ‘Pentagon Central.’ Tovel gave him the kind of smile you save for simpletons.

  ‘And who programmed the computers with our stats?’ said Joiks pointedly.

  There was a moment’s uncertainty. Everyone exchanged glances.

  Roba nodded. ‘Like the old man said - the computers only pick a place ‘cause of what’s fed into them.’