He saw buildings shaped like corkscrews, long rectangular structures stretching almost to the city limits, tall, thin skyscrapers that must have been two hundred stories high dominating the city’s spectacular skyline. He saw literally hundreds of buildings of all shapes, sizes, and colors, with no time whatever to dwell on any single, incredible detail.
All the images had nothing to do with the pictures he had seen of twenty-first century Brussels. He wasn’t surprised: so many other things seemed to have changed in the past two centuries. He wondered for a moment about his friends and family…they were gone for good. At best, he might locate one of their descendants. His eyes misted over a bit. Ray had never really come to grips emotionally with the strange feeling of being a time traveler…of being taken from his home, his life.
Then again, it wasn’t much of a life. More often than not, he found himself cooped up in his home writing computer games. Occasionally, he felt like a hermit, or a prisoner, and longed for a change.
That change had come, all right, though not quite in the form he expected. Maybe they had counselors here who could help him cope, but for now he had to rely on his own wits.
Before he had a chance to sit back and make a half-hearted attempt to enjoy the trip, the limo landed again, the seat belts were released, and he was able to exit the vehicle.
“We’re here,” said Gotlieb as Ray stepped out with a feeling of great relief. “I guess we’re gonna have to put that leftover pie in the fridge till you’re done.” Gotlieb smiled broadly.
Ray realized they were standing in front of one of the tall, corkscrew buildings he had seen in the distance from the White Palace.
Ray did not have any more time to gaze in awe at this fine example of architecture. With barely a pause, the entire group walked briskly to the building and hurried inside. Ray couldn’t stop for a moment, lest he be pushed inside by the men, women and aliens who surrounded him.
As he walked on, Ray wondered if the security detail was part of standard operating procedure for visitors to the president or strictly to keep tabs on him. He still wasn’t certain if they regarded him as a prisoner or guest. Gotlieb’s attitude, however, seemed much friendlier since they picked him up at the hotel. Maybe there’s hope for me yet.
When they walked inside, Ray noticed the surroundings seemed somewhat dark and dreary compared to the bright, cheerful decorations he’d seen at the hotel. Everything in the lobby was medium gray except for the well-kept potted plants at the sides of the front door, and the fine marble desk where what Ray presumed to be a secretary was working.
They walked over to the woman, who seemed totally human in appearance, with tightly coiffured blonde hair, and, for a change, a relatively short skirt revealing shapely legs. She looked up a few seconds later from her viewscreen, stared for a second, and stood up, flashing a professional smile.
“Ah, you must be here to see President Rogers. One of his advisors should be down here any minute to escort Captain Perkins, Captain Gotlieb, and Dr. Johnson to his office. The rest of you will remain here until the meeting has ended.”
Amazing! How did she know his military rank? It seemed as if everybody around here recognized him, leaving Ray with a feeling of extreme discomfort. He always maintained a low profile and resented being an object of attention, even when his computer games became successful and he was widely sought after for public appearances.
He paused to ponder. Obviously they had consulted his military record while he was asleep. That was both good and bad. Good they knew he was for real, bad they probably learned about all his mental problems. Ray realized he had probably revealed many of his innermost secrets during those strange interrogation sessions, although he wasn’t consciously aware of much of what occurred.
At that moment, an elevator across from the secretary’s desk opened. Someone in a dark gray suit, which blended perfectly into the drab surroundings, stepped out of the elevator and came toward them.
As he came closer, Ray noticed his skin appeared to have a greenish tint to it; it looked slimy. For a second, Ray imagined this person was wrapped from head to toe in alligator skins, but upon closer examination he realized it was the being’s natural skin texture.
The being came up to them, shaking each visitor’s hand in turn. When Ray accepted the handshake, he noticed it felt as slimy and scaly as he had speculated.
“I am Korflen, President Rogers’ chief advisor. He is expecting you. Come with me, please.” The creature’s voice had a slight sibilant quality to it. It also appeared that he struggled to pronounce his words perfectly, as if English was not his native tongue.
They followed him into the elevator, which closed as soon as they entered. Korflen announced, “Floor ninety-four, please.”
Ray sensed his stomach lifting as the elevator climbed. He wondered how he’d ever get used to these abrupt stops and starts that seemed part and parcel of travel in this strange age.
A few seconds later, the doors opened, and they stepped out into a beautiful marble hallway that, to Ray, was a relief from the dark and dreary lobby. The thick white carpet seemed almost silky in sheen. Along the sides of the hallway, he occasionally saw potted plants, and a number of portraits lined the walls. Ray got just a brief glance at the pictures; he guessed they were probably all government officials of one sort or another.
Finally, they reached a brown door at the end of the hall, which opened when they approached, as if it anticipated the precise moment of their arrival.
When they reached the door, Gotlieb and Johnson stepped aside. Both men had smiles on their faces, and Ray was quick to pick up on their changing attitudes. Up until now, there was a decided tension between these two.
Korflen announced (it seemed almost like a command), “Enter.”
“What? You mean the president wants to see me alone?” Ray protested, sounding very surprised.
“Yes, he does. He has some very important matters to talk to you about. He wants to have…what do your people call it…ah yes, a heart-to-heart conversation with you,” explained Korflen.
“Now, isn’t that peachy….” Ray gave a sickly sort of smile.
He stepped inside the open door and saw the president’s office. The wall was plain marble, similar to what he had seen outside. There were potted plants scattered around, some familiar, others both strange and wonderful. He learned later they were imports from other Alliance worlds.
There were tables, chairs, and sofas, all clad in a shiny mahogany-tinged wood-like substance that seemed to emit a strange, unearthly glow. The room was large enough to accommodate at least twenty or thirty people, making it ideal for a conference among government leaders.
At the rear of the office was a large brown desk where someone was seated with his back toward him. The individual was apparently looking at a large, flat screen on the left side of the wall.
“Mr. President?” he asked.
“Hello, Captain Perkins! Come and sit down!” exclaimed President Rogers in a deep, enthusiastic voice. He muttered “Screen off,” and the screen went blank.
Ray sat down in a convenient brown leather chair in front of the desk. He noticed it was extremely comfortable, and it seemed to adjust itself perfectly to his physical form. He almost felt relaxed, despite the nagging nervousness that began to overwhelm him.
The president turned around in his chair to face Ray. He looked for the most part like a normal African-American male, but there were several noticeable differences. His forehead bore a noticeable prominence with little ridges on it, and his fingers were longer and thinner than those of most humans.
Rogers was used to dealing with visitors. He was a gracious host with a warm smile, and Ray began to feel at ease as his host asked, “So how are you doing, Captain Perkins? How are you enjoying life in the future?”
As he spoke, Ray began to realize the motions the president’s lips made when he talked were not synchronized with his voice. Ray thought for a second about the poorly dubbed kun
g fu movies he once liked to watch on Saturday mornings. Ray quickly responded to the president’s question.
“I guess I like it here, but it’s not easy to get used to. So much has changed. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I wish people would let me ask some questions. It seems like everyone wants something from me.”
Rogers just nodded with an expression of casual understanding, as Ray paused, thinking that he might as well ask the question uppermost in his mind. “Look, I don’t want to sound insulting or anything, Mr. President, but why don’t your words and the movements of your mouth match?”
“Do not worry, Captain, I take no offense at all. English is not my native language, nor is any Earth tongue. You are hearing my words translated by a special language translation device. We had one fitted to you while you slept.”
Ray looked up with a start, and started feeling around for some sign of the strange device.
Rogers laughed. “It’s embedded in your skin behind your right ear. Not to worry, it won’t bite, unless it gets hungry.”
He laughed again.
Oh, no, now we have a president who thinks he’s a comedian.
Ray probed his fingers nervously around his ears, managing to find a small bump around the back of his right ear, barely detectable. It was covered over with skin. Amazing!
“It’s a great system. It’s managed by a set of central computers, interfacing with each one of these little receivers. With the translator, I can converse in my native language and you in yours. We both understand each other. I do speak English, of course, but I am more comfortable speaking the language of my home world.”
Ray took another look at the man’s obvious alien appearance. The president smiled, and Ray saw his mouth contained more teeth than an Earth person’s, each smaller sized. The smile was open and friendly.
The president said, casually, “Perhaps I should tell you a little more about myself. I was born on the planet Taucon in the Tau Ceti star system.
“It’s an M-type planet about one and a half times Earth size, with somewhat higher gravity. It’s located only about twelve light-years from here, less than a day’s journey from Earth with our current technologies. My father was from Earth, and my mother was a member of the Cettian ruling ministry. Perhaps some day you will have the chance to pay a visit. If you like skiing, Taucon has some of the best slopes in the galaxy.”
“I would love to visit your home planet and give the slopes a try,” Ray replied, not knowing if he wanted to experiment with space travel yet or if he even gave a damn about skiing. He had so far managed to completely avoid anything involving sprinting across mountain slopes.
All, right, Mr. President, I’ve had enough of your bedside manner. Can’t you get to the point?
“Now, Captain Perkins, I’m sure you’ve been wondering why you were called to this meeting,” said Rogers, who made a quick personality change from casual to serious.
“I expected we weren’t here just to get acquainted,” Ray said, forcing a smile.
Now we’re getting to the nitty-gritty…
“I spent the better part of last night reviewing the results of the mind probe and watching that ‘Brain TV’ video of you. I have to say I had trouble getting to sleep after watching those pictures.”
“I often wake up in cold sweats when those dreams happen.”
Rogers smiled, displaying an apparent expression of genuine sympathy.
“You clearly have knowledge no normal person could have; we are concerned about that…very concerned. You know some very dangerous facts we have kept hidden under deep security, and even worse, we’ve just learned that a fleet of alien ships from an unknown world has begun to gather on the edge of Alliance space.”
Ray’s eyes revealed his shock. “Are we going to be invaded?”
“I honestly don’t know, but I have to tell you we are gravely concerned. There was an incident on a far-off world, the same one you saw in your dreams, which raises questions about the fleet’s motives.”
He paused for a moment as if to consider something, and continued. “Before I tell you about it, though, I need to show you something. What you will see is top-secret. Only a dozen or so people in my administration have been given access to this information.”
Ray wondered why they’d bother to show him something classified; could they have believed his crazy story all along while feigning skepticism?
Rogers reached into his desk and pulled out something that resembled a credit card, but it had no name, insignia, or numbers on either side of it.
“This video flashcard is almost like an optical disc from the twenty-first century, except it can hold far more information and has much better quality when seen on one of our viewscreens. It can even display three-dimensional images. You are going to see a video that was taken by one of our scout ships near one of the Alliance’s border outposts.”
He slipped the card into a slot behind his desk, and a large color image of a small, grey planet practically leaped right out of the wall.
Suddenly a dark gray mass filled the screen, covering the planet behind it. Ray sat there dumbfounded as the reality of his dreams stood in bold relief before him…a massive, oval Rockoid super cruiser.
“It’s the Rockoids,” he whispered, barely audibly. Sweat started to pour from his forehead now, and he began to move his hands nervously.
“Yes, I know,” replied Rogers calmly.
Rogers seemed to hesitate for a second before explaining himself, “About five years ago, one of our most decorated military leaders, General Elizabeth Thompson, discovered a colony of intelligent humanoid creatures in the Dorton system about 7,000 light-years from Earth while wrapping up a routine mapping expedition. This was part of the final stage of a two-year-long mission of exploration with her crew on the heavy cruiser Star of Terra. Seven other heavy cruisers and two battleships, the Acclaim and the Reliant, which arrived for the last leg of the mission, were to be tested in various situations, including combat if necessary, to see if they were ready to be mass produced by the Alliance Fleet.
“While in orbit over the planet Dorton, General Thompson’s command ship was targeted and fired upon by three large alien cruisers. In an effort to protect her ship and the rest of her small convoy, she vigorously defended her fleet from the merciless, unprovoked assault and managed to destroy the enemy.
“Her ship was also fired upon from the planet below. Thompson attacked the colony too, taking out several military instillations. Our ships were fortunate to escape with minimal damage and casualties.”
Ray sat there almost dumbfounded. He had seen some of this battle in his dreams, all right, but something was definitely wrong.
Something about those dreams didn’t quite jibe with the story the Alliance president delivered so matter-of-factly, but the memory was too hazy. Maybe all those stun gun beams or drugs they had pumped into him still affected his memory.
Ray still had the nagging feeling the Alliance ships attacked first! If his recollections were real and not fantasies, it could have staggering implications for both the Rockoids and the Alliance. These doubts raged on and off throughout the depths of his soul. If only he had proof one way or the other. Maybe his dreams would eventually reveal some key detail he could use as evidence.
He swore to himself, almost audibly, but the president didn’t seem to notice. He’d have to check this out soon, because he believed they actually trusted him for some strange reason. Maybe they just wanted to give him a security clearance so he couldn’t spill the—beams!
President Rogers hardly paused before continuing his narrative.
“Some of the alien invaders were captured after the battle and we were able to translate a small portion of their language and learn something about them. It appears the Rockoids have visited Earth a number of times over the past few centuries, without
making official contact. In fact, some of their craft crash-landed here in the late 1940’s. The pilots were taken to the top
-secret military base at Area 51 you discovered before you entered a time warp.”
Rogers paused. “In fact, we even have a picture of one of these Rockoids to show you. This one was barely alive when we took the photo.
“Display file forty-five, picture number one hundred seventy-five.”
The picture Rogers requested appeared on the screen, a close-up shot of the face of a Rockoid female. Although the creature’s eyes were shut, it looked almost like a perfect copy of that anguished woman in his dreams.
Ray did his best to conceal his shock—was the creature in that photo an ancestor of that glorious alien woman of his dreams?
“Then you know how I got here,” Ray changed the subject.
“We do not understand the technology. We’re only guessing the means of transportation because your military never succeeded in making any captured alien devices work. They hoped the machines could somehow be used to up the ante back during the Cold War in the early 1960’s. When their efforts failed to bear fruit, they gave up on the project and sealed the chamber due to the potential threat of infiltration by the Soviet Union.
“We do know there was a strange explosion in Area 51 in the early twenty-first century and the research laboratory there was wrecked, almost beyond repair. It wasn’t fully restored until years later.”
Goddamn it. Ray thought. It’s true. And it’s all my fault…
“Does anyone know why I have been having those crazy dreams?” Ray tried to divert the subject from his own unwitting involvement in that episode, feeling incredibly guilty over what he’d done, even if by accident. He began to add up the charges: Breaking and entering into a top-secret government installation, vandalism and heaven knows what else. For a moment, he wondered why his hosts hadn’t brought him here in chains.
“This is just guesswork from our scientists, so don’t take what I’m going to say too seriously. We really don’t understand all of it ourselves.”
Again Ray had to calm down, convincing himself the Alliance president was really trying to help him figure out what happened. Maybe he could return the favor—that is, if he could ferret out the truth about the Dorton affair.
Attack of the Rockoids Page 11