Outside Context Problem: Book 02 - Under Foot

by Christopher Nuttall

  And then there were the aliens themselves. They hadn’t wasted any time before placing vast orders with various American corporations, demanding that they dropped everything and started supplying them with a list of items. Karen had studied them carefully – and forwarded them on to the President – yet they made no sense to her. Alien tech was more advanced than human tech across the board, so why would the aliens want human systems, let alone items that had been outdated even before they arrived? She was sure that there was a single unifying factor, but what was it?

  “Good enough for the moment,” Daisy said. She looked relieved. Karen had to remind herself that Daisy’s position and power depended on pleasing the aliens. If she failed them, they’d be quite happy to replace her with someone who would try to do better, knowing the price if he or she failed. Or perhaps they’d just turn her into one of the Walking Dead. “With the draft underway now, we can start filing people into the proper jobs and training up more engineers and technicians.” She grinned nastily. “The social scientists can go fuck themselves.”

  Karen smiled at the weak joke. Daisy had told her, at great length, about how badly the social scientists had fucked up the American education system. It was geared to producing lawyers, teachers and other people who couldn’t actually do anything useful, rather than doctors, engineers or…hell, even good teachers. They’d been turning America’s education system into an indoctrination system for years, while the men and women they churned out at the end had been unable to find jobs – because there were too many lawyers and teachers already. She remembered a teacher she’d had to study under for a year, one who had taught them all the Gospel According To Marx, Lenin and Stalin, and had forced them to regurgitate his teachings in order to pass. A few of her friends had come up with a random word generator and used it to write their assignments. They’d been complete nonsense, yet they’d passed with high marks.

  “All of this is approved,” Daisy said, finally. She passed the folder back to Karen, who took it carefully. Losing it would make them both look bad in front of the aliens. “Take it down to the departments, and then report back to me in a couple of hours. I want to verify the propaganda myself before we put it out on the airwaves.”

  Karen concealed her smile as she walked down the stairs towards one of the main offices. Daisy wasn't just content to run the Department of Human Resources, but was trying to expand her empire into other departments as well. The aliens didn’t seem to care. Karen had been quietly trying to encourage her to keep trying to absorb the other departments and bring them under her authority, reasoning that infighting among the collaborators would only benefit the resistance. She handed over the folder and walked back to her rooms, where she threw herself on the bed and started to shake. The President had asked her to…

  The thought was impossible to escape. The President had asked her to do something far more than just spying on the collaborators. He wanted her to get someone onto the system, help them to hide in Washington, and then…what? Daisy had set up the system to make it difficult for someone to remain unnoticed for very long, but Karen had the right access codes to make it seem as if someone had been there since the beginning. There were thousands of people trapped in Washington by the alien blockade and it would be easy to slip one more onto the system, yet…what if the Order Police realised that they’d never actually seen him before? They weren't encouraged to think for themselves, or question the system, yet…what if?

  She could think of a hundred different possibilities, none of them good. The thought kept surfacing in her mind. She could be killed outright, she could become one of the Walking Dead, she could be handed over to the Order Police for their fun and games, she could be taken to one of the alien bases and used for medical experiments or…there were just too many possibilities. She couldn’t get them out of her head. What if she was caught? What if…what if…

  The bed felt comfortable under her back, yet she tossed and turned, not daring to speak aloud. There was no way of knowing if the room was bugged or not. The aliens wouldn’t have had any problem emplacing surveillance devices throughout the complex to keep an eye on their people; hell, they’d be insane not to be a little suspicious of their willing collaborators. The President had warned her to take nothing for granted and she’d even taken to never using a computer inside the Green Zone. Who knew who could be monitoring her every electronic footprint?

  She couldn’t see any way around the problem. The aliens had provided devices that allowed the Order Police to take someone’s biometric readings and check them against the central database. Every time someone’s ID was checked, they took new readings and checked them against the main database, making sure that the card matched the person holding it. Karen could get a new card produced – new people were registered all the time in the more rural areas – yet getting the readings to match the card would be tricky. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that there was only one solution. She’d have to take one of the devices to the newcomer, take the readings and prime the card herself. And that risked everything.

  The Order Police knew better than to even try to molest her – they knew who she worked for – yet they’d certainly want to know where she was going. They knew she walked outside the Green Zone at least four times a week – she didn’t always go to the internet café, just in case she was being tailed – but would they know if she took a registry device outside the compound? Would they even care? It would be out of the ordinary and that would tip off anyone, or would it?

  A thought occurred to her and she smiled. Years ago, while she’d been in college, they’d looked briefly at the infamous McDonalds Strip Search Case. A store manager had received a phone call from a man claiming to be a police officer, who’d ordered her to take a young female employee into the backroom and strip search her for hidden drugs. The manager’s boyfriend had then arrived and, under orders from the caller, put the girl through a series of humiliating poses and acts, culminating in oral sex. She’d thought at the time that only a complete moron would have fallen for such a trick – she was pretty sure that the police couldn’t issue such orders and wouldn’t even if they could – but the Professor had actually provided an explanation. The employees had been trained to do nothing, but follow orders. All McDonalds stores had to be exactly the same in all respects, from food that tasted like cardboard to decorations and uniforms. The people who made working in such places a career were not the type to question orders. The manager hadn’t been trained to think or question authority. Faced with a situation outside her worldview, she had surrendered and gone along with the mystery caller. It went without saying that the caller had hardly been a police officer and the whole thing had been a hoax, and a very embarrassing public relations disaster for McDonalds.

  But the Order Police were organised in exactly the same way! She’d been thinking about sneaking out of the Green Zone as if she’d hidden the recorder in her panties, while she could quite literally have a recorder placed outside the Green Zone, waiting for her. It wouldn’t even attract attention if she placed the orders from her own computer – after all, she had to sign off on hundreds of different orders each day. With a little care, it might even seem like a perfectly routine request, and the recorder would be returned before it was missed. She chuckled to herself as she came to her feet. They’d never even know what had happened!

  There was a knock on the door and she tensed. A moment later, Jasmine poked her head around the door and smiled at her. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just a routine cleaning check.”

  Karen nodded. “Of course,” she said. She’d entered that particular order in the work log herself. Neither of them mentioned, aloud, that the only purpose of that order was to give Jasmine and her friends a few hours away from the more perverted collaborators in the hotel. “I need to take a shower. Just get on with it.”

  Jasmine looked up at her. This time, her outfit was cut so low that Karen could just see the tops of her nipples. “Sure,�
� she said. “Do you want me to join you in it?”

  Karen blushed. “Is that what others have been demanding from you?”

  “Yeah,” Jasmine admitted. It had never occurred to Karen that you could make love in the shower; hell, she’d never made love to another woman, full stop. It was more tempting that she’d expected, for she didn’t dare try to find a male suitor or a boyfriend within the hotel, yet it would be taking advantage of her friend. “Some of them have been really rude about it too.”

  She made a face and Karen giggled. “If you want to join me, then come in,” she decided. It might be fun. “If you don’t want to come in, then don’t. I won’t mind.”

  She stepped into the shower room and turned on the shower, pulling off her clothes and feeling the warm water cascading down her body. A moment later, she felt someone stepping in behind her and bare breasts brushing up against back. She leaned forward, despite herself, as gentle hands started to stroke her breasts. It sent a wave of strange emotion racing down her body. Part of her wanted to pull away, part of her wanted to surrender to the strong gentle hands.

  “I’ve never done this before,” she admitted, as warm lips touched the back of her neck. She reached behind her and stroked Jasmine’s breasts, marvelling at their feel under the hot water. A pair of very hard nipples pressed into her back. “I haven’t…”

  “Don’t worry,” Jasmine said, her voice deep and throaty. It sent delightful shivers down Karen’s spine. Jasmine’s hands reached down between her thighs and started probing between her legs. She gasped, unable to help herself, as the sensations started to overwhelm her. “I have. Just relax and let me do all the work.”

  Karen could not, but obey.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Alien Base, Western USA

  Day 165

  Dolly had lost track of how long they’d been sitting in the alien craft. There was no sound of flight or life, nothing but a deep bass hum that seemed to come from all around them. The light seemed to come from nowhere, shining into the room from invisible parts of the compartment, casting an eerie alien tone over the entire experience. No one had anything to say, lost in their own thoughts, as they flew onwards, leaving homes and families behind forever. None of them expected to ever return to what was left of Chicago.

  She tried to count the seconds, but it was hopeless. She’d read books that suggested that one could develop a time sense that would allow a person to tell just how long they’d been waiting, or wake up at just the right moment, but they had been short on details. It was something that was learned from experience and her experience was limited to sniping and trophy shooting. The resistance had tried to give them a crash course in survival tactics and instruct them in how to remain alive, yet none of it seemed remotely applicable to her situation. There didn’t even seem to be a way out of the compartment.

  Her bonds were as strong and inflexible as ever. Once, on a dare, she’d been handcuffed in school for a charity event and that had been alarming, and fun. This was terrifying. The aliens could do anything they liked to their human captives and they’d have no way of stopping them. The other women had clearly had the same thought. They were nothing to members of another race, not even sex objects. God alone knew what the aliens would consider acceptable treatment of their captives. If they realised that it had been her who shot their leader…

  A thought occurred to her and she smiled. She hadn’t needed to go to the toilet yet, not since she’d been picked up from the camp. Logically, she decided, they couldn’t have been flying for very long – she hadn’t even needed to go to have a pee! A healthy human – and she’d been healthy, if lacking in food over the last couple of days before her capture – had to go to the toilet regularly, yet she didn’t need to go. They hadn’t been flying for very long, but with the alien craft and their fantastic speeds, that meant nothing. They could be on the other side of the world, or on the moon, or even on another planet altogether. The possibilities seemed to grow in her mind. If the aliens had brought Arabs to America, why not send Americans to the Middle East? Her instructor had speculated that the aliens had chosen Arabs to serve them because they would have no friends in America, and America had few friends in the Middle East. There might be no prospect of escape at all.

  She opened her mouth to mention this to the others, and then changed her mind. What possible good would it do to scare them further? Some of them were clearly already on the verge of panic, whimpering quietly to themselves; others looked ready and willing to fight, if an opportunity presented herself. Dolly shifted and tested her bonds again. There would be a moment when she was free and able to take action. When that moment came, she would be ready.

  “There are no dangerous weapons,” her instructor had said. “A weapon is what its user makes of it. There are dangerous men and there are men who will believe that holding a weapon makes them dangerous. Pray that you fall into the hands of the latter. They will grow overconfident and make mistakes.”

  He’d cited several cases to prove his point, but she couldn’t remember any of the specifics. The aliens might not be careless – or they might want to simply dissect the humans at once – yet there would be an opportunity. I will be ready, she thought to herself, over and over again. I will be ready.

  The humming sound seemed to grow stronger as a faint shudder ran though the craft, but otherwise there was no change in sensation. She couldn’t decide if they’d reached their destination, or if the craft had merely altered course to avoid running into a resistance ambush. She’d heard rumours that entire ground-to-air missile batteries and their crews had escaped into the wilderness and had been taking shots at alien craft ever since, although she wasn't sure if she believed them. A single SAM missile couldn’t do much damage unless the aliens flew right into the trap. The thought of being shot down by her own side was humiliating, but at least it wouldn’t be as bad as whatever the aliens had in mind for them. Her body ached, remembering the final humiliation at the hands of her captors. No, it wouldn’t be as bad as that.

  Another faint shudder ran through the craft and the humming sound faded away to nothing. She felt a faint sense of seasickness, gone almost before she could recognise it, and then another burst of dizziness that almost had her on the ground. If she hadn’t been seated already, she would have collapsed as her legs gave way underneath her. She heard some of the whimpers growing louder and she winced. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in a small compartment with thirty terrified girls.

  “We must have landed,” one of the women said. She sounded scared out of her wits. “What are they going to do to us?”

  “Stick probes up our butts, probably,” an older woman said. Dolly had met her briefly in the camp and had been told that she had something of a criminal record and had been in and out of jail since she’d turned eighteen. “Aliens and cops always go in for anal probes, my dear. Get a handsome police officer and they can really make your day.”

  “You’re sick,” the first woman burst out. She paused. “You don’t think they’re going to give us to the ragheads, do you?”

  “Nah,” another said. “They have enough whores to keep the fuckers happy. We’re probably going to be thrown to the Order Police…”

  The side of the compartment flowed open before the discussion could become any more depressing and a pair of small aliens stepped in, followed by a taller alien. Dolly flinched away from the Leader, remembering – again – the one she’d killed, the one whose face haunted her nightmares. She didn’t want to look into the new Leader’s eyes and fall under his spell. The aliens were not only terrifying, but fundamentally wrong, creatures from a dark and dismal world. She wished she’d taken one of the suicide belts with her before she’d fallen into their hands. She could have made the Arabs pay for their crimes.

  One of the smaller aliens helped the first woman to her feet and pointed her gently towards the door. Despite not being much bigger than a seven or eight-year-old child, the alien seemed to have no d
ifficulty in picking up the human. Dolly forced herself to watch, noticing that the smaller aliens were much stronger than they looked, strong enough to be dangerous even without their technology. The alien motioned for the woman to stay where she was and helped a second to her feet, and then a third. When Dolly’s turn came, she flinched from the touch of alien flesh, and then winced as the alien poked her with sharp fingers to force her to her feet.

  Another woman screamed as she collapsed into hysteria, struggling against the alien who was trying to help her up. Dolly watched, fascinated, as the smaller alien was knocked back, and then clearly looked up at the Leader, asking for instructions. The degree of non-verbal communication made her wonder if the aliens were telepathic, although humans also shared meaning through body language and hand gestures. The woman kicked out at the alien and screamed abuse; the alien cowered back, shaking. It would have been comical if it hadn’t been terrifying. The woman might get them all killed.

  The Leader stepped forward and stared right into the woman’s eyes. Dolly saw her eyes go strange, as if she had been hypnotised, before the Leader helped her to her feet. The Leader didn’t seem as strong as the smaller castes, although Dolly had to remind herself that he simply might not have been trying to show off. The woman looked completely spaced out; bitterly, she wondered if that had been what she’d looked like, before she’d broken the spell.

  “Come,” the Leader said, walking out of the compartment. “Follow me.”

  After a moment, the line of stunned and scared women followed him, passing through a second compartment before they stepped out of the craft into a blast of warm air. The spicy scent that seemed to accompany the aliens was overwhelmingly powerful and Dolly found herself breathing it in before she could stop herself. It reminded her of her mother’s attempts to cook Indian food, and how badly it had tasted when she finally had been allowed to try it. She pushed the memory and the pain aside and looked around her, realising that they were at the heart of an alien base. She wasn't even sure if she was still on Earth. They couldn’t have built so much in a few months, could they?