by Ian Whates
A shot glanced the side of her face; she barely felt the pain, continued running. She crested the hill and saw the spherical shape of her craft on a patch of open ground.
More shots. She lunged to one side, spun around and fired again.
The ground levelled out and Cairo began to cross the clearing. Sensing her approach a portion of the craft’s skin shrank away and the ladder began to extend to allow her to gain entry.
As she reached up to grasp the ladder Cairo felt a hot lance of pain in her side and fell to the ground. She looked down; the side of her tunic was slick with blood. She twisted as far as she could and fired her subrifle through the long grass at pursuers she could not see.
She reached up to the ladder and began to haul herself up. She fired at the figures approaching across the clearing as the sound of projectile ordnance thudded and pinged against the craft’s hull around her.
As her pursuers took cover Cairo pulled herself up the final few rungs and fell back through the hatch on to the cockpit floor.
She cried out as pain shot through her. The hatch closed automatically and all external sound faded. There was a hiss as the seals engaged. Cairo dragged herself up to the master console and slumped into the seat.
With one hand she pulled a coagulate capsule from one of her pockets and sprayed the wound through the torn fabric of her suit, while with the other she dragged open the protocols panel and initiated the emergency sequence. Seconds later the craft’s automatic procedures went operational, and within moments the vessel was airborne.
Qrettic defences responded, and as Cairo’s craft was about to leave the planet’s atmosphere the vessel was hit. There was a muffled explosion inside the cockpit. Numerous alarms and warnings began to sound. She assessed the damage as the machine left the planet’s atmosphere and accelerated rapidly towards the speed of light.
It became clear that the life support systems were struggling.
CAIRO DRIFTED IN and out of consciousness. She had used all of the coagulate pods but the bleeding continued. She could feel herself weakening. She verified her location, speed, rate of acceleration.
The craft had already achieved a significant light speed multiple, but even at its current acceleration she was unlikely to make it to the nearest Vitariat base.
Cairo opened the communications panel and brought the distress alert into focus. She hesitated: once sent, the alert could not be rescinded. The vessel would convey her to the nearest planet capable of offering her support resources until she could be rescued.
Her head spun. She looked down at her side: the coagulant had merely reduced the bleeding, her tunic and the seat were still slippery with blood. With a curse of frustration she drew her hand through the tab, and the distress alert was sent.
Control relinquished, Cairo pulled on her helmet and sealed her suit, then slumped back in her seat. She was now just a passenger. If a suitable location could be reached, the craft would convey her to it as quickly as possible.
MARK RESTED HIS arm on the door frame. As warm air whipped through the car, he tapped his fingers to the track on the radio. The world flickered by, fields on either side, trees in the distance. It was the kind of road car manufacturers would use to advertise their vehicles: sweeping bends, ideal conditions, no other traffic and the fading of the summer day.
Mark was worried about Kate. Worried she was taking too much on, too nice to say no or stand her ground. She had been so tired lately that he had tried to get her to take a day or two off sick, but she refused to do so. Maybe they should have a weekend away. Somewhere with fluffy white bath robes and an on-site spa.
The song ended, the DJ said a few words and the programme slid into the news. Mark reduced speed slightly as the road curved to the right and narrowed towards the bridge. As he crossed the water Mark looked to his right. The reflection of the full moon shimmered on the surface of the river. Mark glanced up, frowned, leaned forwards and looked through the passenger window: the moon was to his left.
He looked back to his right. The object had moved; it was no longer above the river and was also lower in the sky than before. He glanced ahead, eased off the accelerator then looked back into the sky.
He watched the glowing object as it continued to descend. It must be an aircraft in trouble. They often circled out this way, but it was too far from the airport to be so low. He turned off the radio and slowed a little more, keeping his eyes on the object as it drifted downwards. Mark swore and braked hard as the aircraft touched the first of the tree tops, then sank into the woods and disappeared from sight.
He continued watching for a few moments, expecting an explosion, a fireball. When neither came he pulled the car into the entrance to a field and turned off the engine. He stared at the trees, silhouetted by the orange glow beyond. He took his phone from his pocket to call the emergency services, but there was no signal.
Mark let his hand drop to his side and swore again. He stared at the trees, then slipped the phone back into his pocket, got out of the car, vaulted over the gate and began to jog across the field.
GREAT CLUMPS OF mud stuck to Mark’s shoes and weighed on the hems of his trousers.
He moved quickly through the trees at first, but slowed as he got closer to the crash site: he could feel the heat on his face and there was a burning smell. He stopped dead.
He was standing in a gash in the trees made by the aircraft. The wreckage lay twenty or so meters to his left, but was not like anything he had seen on Air Crash Investigation: there was no trail of debris, no broken bodies. But then the aircraft itself was unlike any he had ever seen.
The machine was a dark sphere, twenty meters or so in diameter, its outer shell covered in a texture like metal snakeskin, scratched and scarred. There were no wings, no tail. The object radiated heat and glowed just enough to cast faint shadows. The damp ground and the trees around it steamed.
Mark began to walk towards the sphere. He could see that a circular portion of its surface near the muddy ground was missing, revealing the interior. Mark shielded his face from the heat and stooped a little to see inside.
He saw a large padded seat surrounded by a variety of pipes and tubes, banks of instruments and controls. There were no windows. There did not appear to be anyone aboard.
Mark stood upright again and looked around. There was no sign of the missing hatch. As he wondered whether it had been ejected before the machine crashed, he saw a body lying near the trees to his left. Marks in the muddy ground indicated that the pilot had dragged himself away from the sphere rather than having been thrown clear.
Mark walked quickly over to the body and crouched. The pilot wore a one-piece jumpsuit with a somewhat metallic appearance and a helmet with a smooth glass visor. Mark thought the person looked female. “Bloody hell,” he said quietly. “What are you? Some kind of test pilot?”
He leaned closer; although he was barely able to make out her face through the visor in the dim light there was something very odd about her appearance. The side of the helmet that was against the ground was damaged, and there was a wound in the side of her abdomen.
Mark reached out and placed his left hand gently on the pilot’s back; he could feel her breathing. “Better get you to a hospital,” he said. “If I can get a signal.” As Mark took his phone from his pocket he became aware of a deep, almost inaudible hum.
MARK LOOKED OVER his shoulder and saw a bright disc in the sky above the trees. The light was so bright he had to shield his eyes. Shadows lengthened as the hum intensified and the machine sank lower. Nearby puddles that had not been evaporated by the heat of the crashed machine began to tremble. A hot wind swirled around him.
Mark stood beside the pilot of the first aircraft, his phone clutched limply at his side. The second aircraft was a sphere like the first, but considerably larger. The machine descended further, then dimmed slightly and came to a halt just above the smashed trees.
Mark simply gazed at the aircraft. The heat radiating from it was
uncomfortable on his face. As he watched, a circular portion of the sphere’s skin changed colour and shrank away.
The interior of the machine was like the one to his left, but this time there were several people inside. They possessed the same slender physique and wore suits similar to that of the injured pilot.
Two of the crew got out of their seats, walked over to the door and stepped out. They did not fall, but dropped slowly to the ground as if on wires.
Mark cleared his throat as they walked towards him. “She’s still alive,” he called. “I was just about to phone an ambulance.” He held up his phone. “Still. I suppose you’ve already got that covered.”
No reply came. The two people were focussed solely on their injured colleague.
“Is it some kind of military thing?” Mark nodded towards the crashed sphere. “I won’t go to the papers. Do I have to sign the Official Secrets Act or something?”
Still no response. The two figures walked past him in silence; they did not even look at him.
Mark turned, watching as they knelt beside their colleague. “I knew there were women in the air force,” he said. “But not that many. Are you some kind of special unit?” A few moments passed. “I suppose you’re not allowed to say anything. Secrets and all that.” Nothing.
As the two figures examined the wounded pilot, Mark looked towards the second sphere. The object continued to hover. Through the open hatch he could see those still on board interacting with various displays. He was not sure what he was looking at.
The two people tending the injured pilot stood and moved back away from their colleague, then one of them took a small object from a pouch at her waist and held it at arm’s length. She depressed the top as if pushing a pen, and a sphere like a soap bubble appeared in the air in front of her. The bubble hung there for a couple of seconds, then sank gently on to the casualty. When the pilot’s body was completely enveloped the bubble rose into the air once more, lifting the casualty with it.
Mark watched as the two people touched the bubble and began to guide it towards the second aircraft. When they reached the machine they skilfully led the injured pilot up into the air and through the circular opening, then got back on board themselves. A few seconds later the opening sealed and the deep vibration resumed. The second craft emitted a line of light that linked it to the first, then the sphere’s skin began to glow and the two aircraft rose into the sky in unison.
Mark watched as the machines ascended rapidly, and within seconds they were lost among the stars.
He considered what he had just seen. Looked at the marks and troughs in the ground all around him, the broken trees, the steaming earth.
“BLIMEY!” SAID KATE. “What happened to you? You’re covered in mud.”
Mark said nothing. He simply closed the door, leaned back and rested his head against it. After a long moment he looked at her and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I mean I don’t know. I was driving home and...” He stopped.
Kate waited. “And what?” she said.
“I saw this light.”
“What kind of light? Was it a migraine?”
“No. Nothing like that. It was in the sky. I thought it was the moon at first but then I realised the moon was on the other side of the car. It came down in Holt End woods.”
“Oh my God – was it a plane crash?”
“Well that’s what I thought, so I went over and had a look. But it wasn’t a plane. At least I don’t think it was a plane.”
“If it wasn’t a plane what was it?”
Mark shrugged. “I don’t know. It was round. The door was open and the pilot was lying nearby.”
Kate put a hand to her mouth, wide-eyed. “Was he dead?”
“No. And I think it was a woman but I couldn’t see properly through the helmet. Then another one turned up.”
“Another plane?”
Mark nodded. “It didn’t land. It just hovered. A couple of people got out, put the injured pilot in some kind of bubble, got back into their machine and went away.”
She looked at him. “Some kind of bubble?”
“Yeah. Like a soap bubble, you know. But huge. They lowered it over the body, lifted it into the air and put it into the second aircraft. I thought it was some sort of military thing at first. An experimental aircraft.” He hesitated. “But I think they might have been...”
Kate raised her eyebrows. “Might have been what, Mark?”
He looked at her. “Aliens,” he said. “I think they might have been aliens.”
Kate smiled. “You’re winding me up, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not, Kate. I swear to God.”
“You don’t believe in God.”
“You know what I mean.”
“So you were driving along, an alien spaceship crashed, and you saw the injured pilot who was then rescued by more aliens in another spaceship. Have I got that right?”
“It sounds mad, I know.”
“Sounds like you’ve gone back on the pills.”
“You know I haven’t done anything like that in years.”
Kate got up off the settee, took her coat from the back of one of the dining chairs and put it on.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“If an alien spaceship crashed in Holt End woods, I bloody well want to see it.”
“They took it away. The second one sort of towed it with this beam of light.”
She stopped and looked at him, one arm in one sleeve. “Right. So there’s no evidence that any of this happened?”
“You don’t believe me.”
“You’ve got to admit it sounds a bit crazy, Mark.”
He said nothing for a few moments, then looked at her. “The trees,” he said.
“What about the trees? I suppose they spoke to you, did they?”
“They were all broken where this thing came down. The earth was all churned up, too. It’s obvious something’s happened.”
Kate finished putting on her coat, walked over to the cupboard by the front door and took out her wellies. “Come on, then,” she said as she slipped her feet inside them. “Let’s go.”
“It’s quarter to eleven.”
“I don’t care. If an alien spacecraft landed in Holt End woods I want to see the evidence. Besides, you never take me out these days.” She grabbed the torch from the shelf at the back of the cupboard and turned to face him. “Well come on then,” she said. “What’s the matter with you? It’ll be an adventure!”
THEY WALKED THROUGH the trees, the torch beam waving around in front of them, twigs snapping underfoot.
“It’s a bit spooky,” said Kate. “But fun. How much further?”
“It’s just here.”
They emerged from the trees into the gap created by the sphere. They stopped. Kate shone the torch on the broken trees, the rutted, muddy ground.
“It was right there.” He pointed to the crater where the sphere had rested. “And the pilot’s body was just over there. If you shine the torch up there you’ll see how the trees are all broken where it came down.”
“I can see trees all right.”
Mark looked up at the stars, frowned, shook his head. “It was here. I saw it. I saw the pilot, and I saw them take her away. I know I did.”
“When you went out after work – you didn’t have a drink did you?”
“I was driving.”
“And you honestly didn’t take anything... exotic?”
“Look, I didn’t have a drink and I didn’t take anything. I know what I saw and I know what happened, okay?”
“All right. Calm down. You’ve got to see it from my point of view, though, Mark. This is all a bit weird. Are you sure you didn’t fall asleep at the wheel for a second and dream it?”
“Kate.”
“Okay, okay, sorry.”
“Look, forget it. Let’s just go home and pretend I never said anything.
” Mark turned and started to walk back towards the car.
“Mark. Mark, I’m sorry.” She hurried after him.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re right. It’s ridiculous. I’ll make an appointment with the doctor first thing in the morning and get my head examined.”
As he passed the point at which he had found the pilot’s body Mark stopped walking and looked at the ground, then stooped and picked something up.
“What’s that?” said Kate when she caught up with him.
Mark wiped mud from the object. It was round, a similar size to a small apple, with a slightly stippled surface like frosted glass. He held the ball up by his ear and shook it, but it made no sound. It emitted a faint blue glow and felt slightly warm in his hands.
“The pilot must have been carrying it,” he said quietly.
She looked at him. “You are joking. This is a joke, right?”
“No, I’m not bloody joking.”
She looked more closely at the device. “Does it open? See if there’s anything inside.”
Mark examined the ball for a moment. He noticed a thin groove around its circumference. He gripped the upper and lower halves in his hands and twisted; there was a faint click and a whistling sound.
Mark felt as though he drifted sideways. The world greyed, distorted. He felt somewhat numb. He could see Kate, blurred and indistinct, shimmering as if he were looking at her through a veil of heat haze. He could see that she was saying something but her words seemed garbled and distant.
He heard a strange wailing sound and glimpsed a black motorbike speeding along the country lanes, its headlight illuminating the hedgerows. Mark seemed to be watching the motorbike from overhead. The machine approached the bridge across the river but did not slow down. Just as the road narrowed the machine skidded and slewed sideways. The rider lost control and the machine hit one of the bridge pillars, catapulting the rider on to the river bank.