“Alex! Thank goodness you’re all right! I’m so glad you got the message. I—I’m so sorry about this. I never would have expected the Kema’dor could be so quick. You are all right?”
You mean other than being seconds away from being attacked by aliens? Yeah, sure, totally fine.
“I’m okay. How did they find me?”
“They’ve been tracking Solamure technology—the NeuralCom, the bunker you’re in, the watcher in your head. The—“ suddenly a note of panic entered his voice. “Is there any chance you happened to take the Tarke in there with you?”
“No, I—“
Suddenly a loud BANG! sounded above my head.
That’s when it hit me—I mean really hit me. There were aliens—really, truly, honest-to-Venus aliens in this house with me. And they were after me.
BANG! The sound waves shook the stairwell.
“Um, Ronan?” I whispered (even though I knew whispering wasn’t going to help anything—it just felt natural, under the circumstances). “How secure is this bunker?”
“Impenetrable,” he answered.
“Are you completely one hundred percent sure?” I asked, worried. Another loud BANG! on the wall at the stairtop sent me scurrying deeper down the passage. I unconsciously raised the knife up toward the door.
“Alex,” Ronan said. “The Solamure built that bunker. The very reason they want in there is the reason they can’t: the Solamure are far more advanced than the Kema’dor. You’ll be fine.”
“…Okay,” I responded in a small voice, still not sure.
“I’m nearly back to the cabin. I’ll try to divert their attention so they’ll leave you alone. I won’t be able to communicate during that time, but you can use the NeuralCom to get information. Once it’s safe, check on the Tarke—it’s in my duffel bag. It’s so small, and I’m not sure how sensitive the Kema’dor’s tracking ability is, so there’s a chance they may miss it. If they didn’t….” He trailed off, looking worried.
“That doesn’t sound like a very safe plan,” I argued. “You can’t run forever. Isn’t there some way you can get in here with me?”
“Not with them searching the house. I’m sure they’ve already tracked this communicator I’m using right now, and will be after the signal as soon as they give up on going after you.”
“Please be careful,” I pleaded. “I don’t know how I’ll survive without you.” It sounded like a cheesy line from a movie, but I meant it literally. How would I survive without Ronan? Without him, I’d already be dead.
“I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe. If I’m not back by tomorrow morning, and the scanner in the bunker says it’s clear, come out and take the truck back to the house where we first met. The keys are on the seat and the NeuralCom can guide you. In the house you’ll find a powerful computer. It has the ability to contact the METUS—they’re sort of like a self-appointed universal police force. Tell them what’s happened with the Kema’dor. They’ll help you.”
“I—okay. Does the NeuralCom know how to do all that?”
“Yes. And drive fast. And… don’t tell the METUS too much about yourself. They can have a skewed perception of right and wrong and sometimes make rash judgments. “
Sounds like my Aunt Betsie, I thought. “Won’t the Kema’dor be at your house? Maybe they’ve already got your computer.”
“It’s possible,” he said. “But doubtful. I’m sure they’ve put their resources into their top priority, which is the acquirement of a watcher. It’s a long story, but there’s a crucial reason they need one. I’ll do my best to divert them, so you’ll have time to get away.”
Ronan’s plan sure had a lot of hoping and wishing. Before I could tell him that, he continued. “But I’m sure this is all hypothetical. I’ll be back soon.”
“Be careful,” I said again.
“You too,” he said before his image disappeared, and a loud thump echoed through the staircase.
I walked down the rest of the stairs and entered a large rectangular room. The floor tiles and walls were white and there were fluorescent lights on the low ceiling. There was a refrigerator, table, and microwave in a kitcheny area, and a couple of couches sitting on a large rug. Most of the wall space was lined with racks holding canned food and water. The main center of attention was a desk supporting a large computer. On the wall behind it hung a framed picture of some beach, but that small homey touch didn’t do much to warm the barren feeling of the basement.
Hunger pains gnawed at my middle and I realized it’d been hours since my pancake breakfast with Ronan. I ambled over to the food racks and rummaged through them (canned beans, no—canned tuna, no—Spam, ick no). Eventually I came across some canned peaches and made short work of them.
Once I’d finished eating, I realized how eerily quiet everything was. No thumps or bangs coming from outside, and the only sound from inside was the humming of the refrigerator.
I stared blankly at the wall, wistfully thinking of my iPod.
If you’d like some music, I have an expansive playlist, the voice said abruptly as I jumped. Having a voice in your head isn’t something you get used to easily.
The more you allow me to interface with you, the more quickly you’ll adapt.
“Agh,” I said aloud. “All right, fine. Play some music. Good stuff.”
Instantly a song was crooning in my ears. It was one of my favorites and I began to feel a little less tense. The sound quality was outstanding.
Then suddenly I screamed as the image of a slimy-looking creature filled the visor’s screen. It had bulging eyes and wide mouth that curved all the way around its distended face.
“What’s that?” I shrieked.
The answer to your question, the NeuralCom calmly replied.
“What?” I shrilled as I reflexively jerked my head back—the thing was staring at me from an uncomfortably close range. “What question?”
The question about the Kema’dor’s appearance. This is a photograph.
“I didn’t ask that!”
Not consciously, but your subconscious was curious.
“Well, you need to wait until I ask you a question—consciously!—before throwing things like that out. Geez!” Having some horrific monster suddenly appear in front of my eyes had shot off a round of adrenaline into my bloodstream and I was angrily tense.
But now that I knew what it was, I began to study the picture more carefully. The closest earthly creature I could compare it to would be some sort of amphibian, because it had the same sort of dark green, glistening skin and protuberant eyes, but rather than squatting like a frog, it was sort of hunching on 2 thick limbs. It appeared wearing some brownish sort of clothing.
“Not much like Hollywood’s aliens,” I thought.
No, the NeuralCom replied.
Then again, why would we think that life forms evolved on a completely different planet would turn out like us? Look at the diversity of life just on earth.
“So now what do we do?” I asked silently.
The Kema’dor have left the structure. If you are planning to follow Ronan’s advice and wait for him until tomorrow, I’d suggest sleep. Your vitals are showing signs of stress and exhaustion
Sleep. Yeah, right.
I can initiate sleep by accessing the pons in your brain, if you would like.
“No, I would NOT like,” I replied hastily. Having some alien computer sending signals right into my brain to put me to sleep was one too many steps of freaky things in all the freakiness I’d been through.
“In fact, I think I need some time alone now,” I said aloud as I began removing the NeuralCom’s straps from my head.
I will alert you if necessary, was the last thing I heard as I shook my hair free from the device. It was slightly damp where the straps had been wrapped.
I rubbed my head to restore some circulation and release some of the ache (I hadn’t realized how heavy the NeuralCom was). Then I tried to think.
I knew that if I f
ocused on the outside world (How sick with worry my family must be by now!) or on the future (What if Ronan doesn’t return?), then I’d drive myself into a mental frenzy that wouldn’t help anything.
So I concentrated on the here and now. I knew I would need to at least try to get some sleep—the NeuralCom was right—I felt exhausted. I began looking around for bedding supplies. My search rewarded me a linen closet with blankets and pillows, and thankfully, some gray sweatpants and t-shirts in various sizes. I also discovered that the couches unfolded into beds.
Missing my own room so much (Don’t think about that!), I climbed in to the makeshift bed. I left the fluorescent lights on and humming.
Beep-beep beep-beep! My alarm clock sounded throughout the room and I groggily threw an arm toward my nightstand, hoping to connect with the snooze button.
But there was no nightstand. I opened my eyes and everything came flooding back. There at the foot of the bed was the NeuralCom, beeping for attention.
I groaned a little—it felt like it must be three in the morning. Suddenly fighting for my life from aliens didn’t seem so important. Surely it could wait for a few more hours.
Beep-beep beep-beep.
Fine, I grumped, but this’d better be important. I fumbled with the still- unfamiliar straps and managed to put the NeuralCom on.
It is now 12:00 am and Ronan still has not returned. I’ve already checked with the scanner and the structure is free from Kema’dor life forms. If you are planning to follow Ronan’s advice, now is the time to leave.
“I—what? 12:00?”
Ronan requested you leave today if he was not back.
“Yeah, but—he meant like, daytime, as in sunrise and roosters—not the second it strikes midnight.”
The NeuralCom was silent a moment. Then, suddenly a record of Ronan’s voice echoed in my ears. “If I’m not back by tomorrow morning, and the scanner in the bunker says it’s clear, come out and take the truck back to the house where we first met.”
“That doesn’t mean—“ I began. “Oh forget it. It’s useless arguing with you.”
I can reset an alarm for sunrise, if you prefer.
I considered for a moment, and decided to just get up. I’ll sleep when I’m dead, I thought, then smiled a little at the words Natalie always used to say.
A rather macabre thought, but perhaps fitting under the circumstances.
It took me a second to realize that the NeuralCom was alluding to the idea that I may soon be dead. It suddenly hit me what Ronan’s continued absence might indicate.
“No,” I whispered adamantly. I suddenly couldn’t stand the idea of just sitting here in the bunker, doing nothing. If Ronan needed help, I needed to leave.
I got up and packed some cans of food and water into a shoulder bag that was in one of the kitchen drawers (it made for a heavy load). I put the bedding away and refolded the couch. Then I asked the NeuralCom to open the door, and left the safety of the bunker.
Chapter 9
Priority two has evaded our search, but priority one is now vulnerable.
Focus all units on priority one. And remember, we need the subject alive for the procedure. To work.
As soon as I stepped out of the bunker, a rancid smell hit me. It was so strong I lifted the collar of my t-shirt up over my nose to use as a filter, but it didn’t help much.
When I climbed up out of the basement, I let out an involuntary gasp. All the furniture—from the kitchen to the living room—had been completely torn apart and strewn all over the floor. It was a shocking sight.
Moving quickly, I ran to Ronan’s room to search for the Tarke. But as soon as I got there I realized it was useless. Like the other rooms, this one had been torn apart and the duffel bag was gone.
Probably the best thing I could do now was leave. I was anxious to get away from the putrid smell, and the air was a little better in the garage. The rusty old truck was waiting, keys on the seat. I started the truck and somewhat reluctantly strapped on the NeuralCom.
“How do I get back to town?” I thought.
Follow the road leading out of the garage for 11 miles. When the road splits, take the path on the right. Continue on that road for 6 more miles until you come to the sign that says Highway 6, and turn left. That’s all the directions your memory can maintain at this time. I will give you further instructions at that point.
Being patronized by a computer soured my already-agitated mood, but I put the vehicle into drive and eased out onto the narrow mountain road. I turned the truck’s headlights on bright, but even that did little to illuminate the blackness all around. The stars were hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds, and I’d forgotten how the complete darkness is away from the city lights.
The road curved all over the place and I soon lost all sense of direction. The woods on either side of the road were sometimes so thick that I heard the scrape of a branch as it scratched along the truck. I wasn’t able to drive very fast, and the shadows made me nervous.
I’d only been going along for about fifteen minutes when the NeuralCom suddenly spoke up. A vehicle containing Kema’dor is approaching. If velocities remain constant, you will pass by them in two minutes.
They found me. My stomach gave a twist, my heart leapt in my chest and I had to stifle a yelp.
“What should I do?” I whispered desperately.
There is nothing you can do to avoid them.
“Screw that,” I said, and violently slammed on the brake until the truck came to a squealing stop.
As soon as the pressure from the seatbelt released, I opened the door and took off. Being on a mountain, I could flee either uphill or down. Down was faster, and I ran off into the thick brush.
Branches scratched at me as I tore my way through them. The darkness was so complete I couldn’t see where I was stepping, and ended up tripping on the uneven ground.
After forcing my way through some particularly stubborn branches, I realized that the NeuralCom had been ripped off somewhere. I had no idea where it might be and decided against looking for it. I hoped Ronan wouldn’t be too upset.
If he’s even alive, a voice in the back of my mind hinted brutally.
I stopped for a moment and, despite feeling the need to pant for air, held my breath so I could listen. I heard the hoot of an owl, and then suddenly, horribly, the not-so-distant sound of hundreds of branches snapping as several large things bombarded their way through the woods.
Gasping for air, I pushed myself even faster, ignoring the twigs that pulled at my hair and clawed at my skin. But despite my struggle to get away, a light came shining down upon me, casting my uneven shadow onto the ground.
I turned back to yell something—I’m not sure what—but before I could, everything went black.
“We’re most obliged you could join us, Miss Blackwood,” a throaty voice said distantly. I couldn’t place it, but it went on, in a heavy accent. “The time has come to embrace consciousness. We need to have a little chat, before we begin the procedure.”
I kept my eyes closed as reality flooded, unwelcome, into my mind. I had been taken. By aliens. And they wanted to cut me apart. It sounded like some lame plot for a crappy old movie.
“Come, Miss Blackwood. We know you have regained awareness. Let us communicate in the manner you’re used to: face-to-face.”
Face-to-face. Part of me wanted to scream, cry, and plead for my life, but I pushed it down, steeled my resolve, and opened my eyes.
It was a surprisingly handsome room. I was lying on a generously sized couch, perpendicular to magnificent aquarium filled with large, elegant jellyfish that were gracefully floating around. The vaulted ceiling dripped with fans that were twirling wide, leaf-like blades slowly. Across the room from me was a shiny, chocolate-colored grand piano, next to which was another sofa.
And on that sofa, an alien perched.
Hunching so far forward, it seemed as if he might leap in my direction at any second. He was mostly covered in a loose brown
material, but his “hands”, for lack of a better word, could be seen at the end of long sleeves, and the head, with its uncomfortably bulging eyes, and too-wide mouth, was also exposed.
He smelled terrible. It was the same atrocious scent that had been in the cabin.
“We’re so glad to meet you, officially, Miss Blackwood. You may call me Malsor.”
He (she?) paused, as if waiting for me to reply. Uh, nice to meet you, too? Right. I waited in silence.
Malsor went on in his deep, throaty voice. “I hope our discussion won’t be soured by the unkind and undeserved rumors you’ve undoubtedly heard about us.” He paused again, and again I stayed silent.
“Please accept our apologies for apprehending you. It is generally not in our nature to behave in such a graceless manner. But we so wanted meet you, and doubted you would come by invitation.”
“Of course I wouldn’t ‘come by invitation’,” I blurted, unable to contain myself. “You’re going to kill me!”
Malsor blinked his bulbous eyes, which unnerved me because his eyelids slid from bottom to top. “Yes, well, I’m afraid that’s unavoidable. But you can thank your Starsailor friend, and the Solamure, for that. We, like every other species alive, must act in self-interest.”
I had to admit, this Kema’dor was not what I was expecting. Based on the stink and mess they’d left in the cabin, I thought they’d be uncouth barbarians. But here I was, lying comfortably on a couch, having a rather frank conversation with one.
But if I was going to discuss my own death, I wanted to do it from an upright position. I sat up, and instantly regretted the move. My head pounded and the room suddenly swam before me. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths until the throbbing subsided. Then I lifted my gaze to glare at my companion.
“Then you understand why I, acting in self-interest, have no wish to cooperate with you, or even converse with you.” I was surprised at how forceful my voice sounded, considering how fearful I felt.
“We understand, of course. But there are things you don’t understand. And if you allow us to explain, we believe your interests will change.”
Understanding the Stars Page 6