“They told me you were a genius,” Cunningham said.
McGuinness grinned. “Actually, it wasn’t that hard, once I understood the basics of this whole installation. I can’t take credit for everything. These people expected to be revived, and made it quite easy. It is just a matter of getting the process started. Now their computer will take over. All I can do is watch.”
The Captain smiled. “Don’t be too modest, young man. Take the credit.” He stood, stroking his chin, while watching the blinking lights for a while, then he said, “Three hours? Hmm…” He didn’t feel like being cooped up in the corridor for that long, making small talk with scientists he didn’t understand. “I’ll be going back up. Notify me when he’s coming around.”
He walked out, stopped to talk to Beringer. “Listen, I’ll be back in three hours. Keep the crowds away from the alien until I’m back.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Exploration Team Delta
“These ruins are ancient.” Professor Findlay picked up a crumbled piece of stone. “Looks like some kind of cement. Wonder what happened to the builders?”
“Probably dead by now,” Remington said.
“I certainly hope so.” The Professor chuckled. “They’d be over a thousand years old if they were still alive.”
Remington growled something, stalked passed Striker, leaving Findlay standing, shaking his head. “He’s an idiot. No sense of humor,” he said to Striker. “Of course they’re dead.”
The lieutenant smiled and sat down on a moss-covered rock. “I think you need to know, Professor, a few days ago, up in the mountains, we came across similar ruins.”
Findlay lifted his head, stared at Striker. “You didn’t tell anyone?”
“Besides Woolf, Mian, and Chu, who found them, only Breanna and I know.”
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“Because we needed to get off those mountains. Right now our priority is survival.”
“You should have let me have a look, at least,” Professor Findlay said angrily. “You can’t make those decisions alone, Lieutenant. You might have put all of us in danger.”
“You said it yourself, Professor, they’re dead.”
“The builders are, but there may well be descendants. You disappoint me, Striker.”
Striker grinned tightly. “You and how many others? Being a leader is not always easy. And sometimes lonely.”
“You volunteered for the job, Lieutenant, so don’t cry on my shoulder.”
“Nobody is crying, Professor.” Striker rose, brushed off the seat of his pants. “I better go and talk to Remington about the possible danger we may be facing. You might just be right about living descendants.” He didn’t tell Findlay about the charcoals in the fireplace. No need to upset him more.
He found Remington talking to Woolf. Both men looked at Striker when he approached. Remington with an accusing look on his face. “I told him,” Woolf said. “He was insistent.”
“Keeping secrets only breeds mistrust, Striker,” Remington growled.
“Well, you know now,” Striker said coldly. “I’m appointing you Chief of Security, Remington. It will be your job to ensure the safety of our team.” Striker knew the other man didn’t like him, but by giving him responsibilities, he could be kept in line and might even make an ally.
“I’d like Woolf to be my deputy,” Remington said and looked at Woolf. “If it’s all right with you, Herm.”
Woolf nodded, smiled. “I would have liked to have another look at those ruins, but I guess they won’t run away. Besides, Professor Findlay can get a little overbearing, sometimes.”
“I hope you don’t say that about me,” said a loud voice beside Striker.
Remington laughed. “Gregorchuck, one look at you and everyone knows you’re an obnoxious son-of-a-bitch. You can’t hide it.”
“I guess that’s why we get along so well. You know what they say about birds of a feather…” The bearded marine-biologist punched Striker on the arm and laughed. “How do you fit into this little group, Lieutenant?”
Striker smiled, rubbed his arm. “You tell me.”
“A diplomat, that’s what I like about you, Striker.” Gregorchuck stroked his beard. “I saw Professor Findlay poking around in those ruins, and Professor Banca has gone off again on his treasure hunt. I wouldn’t mind going down to the lake and do a little of my own research.”
Striker looked at him sharply. “When did Professor Banca leave the camp?”
“About fifteen minutes ago. He took Sara and Concitta, his two favorite students, with him.” He grinned. “Wonder what they’re actually studying.”
Remington laughed and scratched himself. “That Concitta Sanchez, she’s hot. What do you think, Herm?”
Woolf shrugged, grinned foolishly. “She’s hot. I guess. I wouldn’t know.” He looked at Striker. “What kind of danger exactly are we expecting, sir? Are we talking about hostile alien life forms?”
“Hostile? I don’t know. Possibly.”
“You want me to go look for Professor Banca?”
Striker shook his head. “No, I’ll do it myself.” He looked at Remington. “Your job begins now,” he said, and turned away abruptly. He just didn’t like the man, and he may have to change his opinion about Gregorchuck. Those two could have each other.
He stalked through the knee-deep grass, away from the ruins, toward the tents. They’d decided to set up camp near the lake, under the protection of a group of wide-spreading trees.
The valley they were in was huge, and so was the lake. Everything they needed was here. Tall, straight trees to supply the lumber for building a solid shelter, plenty of small animals in the forest to provide food for them to survive. The lake harbored a variety of aquatic creatures, and a wide, fast flowing stream brought fresh water from the mountains. Chances for survival were excellent, so far.
The ancient ruins testified that others once chose this place to live in.
He found Mian gathering rocks and throwing them into a pile. Nodding toward Striker the black man said, “We need a fire-pit for warmth and for cooking.”
Striker smiled. “You’re the survival expert, Acram. Can you cook, too?”
“Depends. Meat roasted on a fire tastes different.” Grinning. “A little charcoal is probably good for you.”
“Probably.” Striker looked toward the forest, scanned the surface of the lake to the west, and then studied the expanse of prairie to the south. When they were still up in the mountains, they sighted numerous forests and small lakes and rivers, now he could only see the edge of another forest about a kilometer away. There were no signs of Professor Banca and the girls.
“Did you see which way Professor Banca went?” he asked.
Mian pointed south. “Last I saw he was following the lakeshore.”
“Come with me. I’m not good at tracking,” Striker said. “And bring your weapon.”
Mian padded his hip and grinned.
“I guess everyone else is washing up.” Striker scanned the lake again. A southern wind created small whitecaps, and he could hear the waves lapping against the rocky shore. He felt edgy, his nerves were raw. Somehow, this place seemed too peaceful. Out of the depths of the forest he could hear some large animal bellow a challenge then another one answer. Instinctively, his hand went to touch his laser. How he wished to be inside the safety of a spaceship, somehow those cramped quarters didn’t seem so bad.
When he came to the small sandy beach he found it littered with heaps of clothing. He saw Chu sitting on a rock, a laser rifle in his lap. The pilot saluted when Striker and Mian walked up to him. “Lieutenant.”
Striker returned the salute. “I’m glad to see at least one person with a level head.”
Chu smiled. “I’ve never had much use for water; I prefer a sonic shower.”
“Better get used to it.” Mian grinned. “I’m afraid this is all we have to offer.”
Striker spotted Breanna’s red hair in the water. She
waved when she saw him. He got a quick flash of her naked white breasts. Another woman, Rhea Rosetti, emerged out of the waves in front of her and started walking toward him.
She possessed small breasts and a thin, but muscular body, and he couldn’t help but notice the thick dark bush covering her genitals. Most women he knew preferred to keep that part of their body clean-shaven.
She saw him looking, but pretended not to notice. She smiled when she stood in front of him. “Well, Lieutenant, aren’t you going to take a dip?”
“Good morning, Rhea,” he said, trying not to stare at her extremely long nipples. “Maybe later. Right now I’m concerned with Professor Banca.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like anyone going off by himself.”
“He wasn’t alone, Sara and Concitta went with him.”
“I mean unarmed. They shouldn’t go off unarmed.”
Her brows knitted together in a frown, her gray eyes searched his face. “What are you trying to say, Striker?”
“This planet may not be as empty of intelligent life as we thought, at least that’s what Professor Findlay suggests.”
“We haven’t found any evidence, yet.”
“Actually, we have. Up in the mountains, a few days ago.”
“Are you talking about those monkey-like creatures?”
“No, I’m talking about the ruins Mian and Chu discovered.”
“Ruins like those?” Rhea pointed a thumb at the crumbling walls of the ancient village. “Nobody lives in them.”
“We found remnants of a fire, which was made by someone as recent as five years ago. Fire means intelligence.”
“That’s surprising news.” Rhea stared at Mian. “Is that true?”
Mian nodded. “Like the Lieutenant says.”
“Why haven’t we run across these people?”
Striker chuckled. “Who says they’re people?”
“You know what I mean.” She looked at the ruins, then into the forest, shivered. “We could be in danger.”
Striker looked past Rhea, watched Breanna coming out of the lake. She squeezed the water from her long hair, shook red strands out of her face. Her lovely body glistened wetly in the morning sun, and he realized again how beautiful she actually was.
“What are you three talking about?” she asked, laughing, her green eyes flashing. Then she planted a wet kiss on his lips.
“I told Rhea about the fire pit.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the small woman.
“She knew?” Rhea asked.
Striker nodded, feeling guilty about not telling everyone. “I thought it best to keep it quiet for awhile. I may have been wrong.”
“You certainly were! Who knows what dangers we may have encountered.” Rhea looked upset.
“I already had this discussion with Professor Findlay, so let’s end it. It was my decision.” Striker spoke sharply, and then turned to Mian. “Let’s go and look for Professor Banca.” He stalked away, angry with Rhea and with himself. Damn it! He was the leader and shouldn’t have to explain himself to everybody who questioned him.
Mian walked ahead of him, slightly stooped over, his eyes searching the ground. “Shouldn’t be hard to follow them,” he said to Striker. “The soil is relatively soft and the grass is still bent where they walked. But we better hurry. Looks like we’ll get some rain soon.” He pointed at the dark clouds gathering in the west.
They walked close to shore, where the grass wasn’t quite as high, but small rocks and boulders didn’t make walking much easier. Striker looked back in the direction of the camp; some people were still in the water, but a few seemed to be gathering around Breanna and Rhea. He smiled grimly, it wasn’t hard to guess what they were discussing.
When he turned to follow Mian, he saw the black man standing still, his laser in his hand. Making a motion for Striker to stop, he stared at a clump of nearby trees. Striker followed his gaze and saw a large dark shape partially hidden by the thick trunks of the trees. The shape moved. A shaggy head with long tusks appeared. Between the tusks swung an appendix slowly moving back and forth, like a giant snake. The animal stepped into the open, revealing a huge hairy body.
Striker recalled seeing holograms of similar creatures. They lived a long time ago on Earth. He couldn’t remember what they were called.
The big animal stepped out of the trees; it trumpeted once, then it began to trot away from them and headed toward the forest in the south. A few moments later three more appeared, all smaller than the first one.
Mian waited for Striker to catch up with him, before they walked on. “I think they’re herbivores,” he said, “but they still could be dangerous.”
“They’re certainly large enough,” Striker commented.
They watched the animals disappear into the forest, heard them trumpet one more time, and then it was quiet again. The tracks they were following led them into the forest not far from where the shaggy animals entered. A narrow trail wound its way through the thick underbrush. Striker could see the footprints of the three they were searching; he also saw prints of other creatures that came this way before.
“I think I need to have a long talk with the Professor. What in hell is he thinking, entering this forest,” Striker cursed loudly.
The trail ended abruptly in a small glade. Everything looked peaceful, until Striker and Mian walked further into the glade and saw the bodies. Striker moaned in anguish when he saw the lifeless body of a woman.
Sara Golman, was his first thought. Her face was hidden behind long, black hair, and her naked body was spattered with blood. Somebody mutilated one of her breasts. Not far from her lay the body of a male, but it wasn’t Professor Banca, it belonged to a younger, more muscular man.
Striker bent over the woman, gently turned her head. Breathing a sigh of relief, he studied the alien face. It was humanoid, but not human.
“Looks like we found the inhabitants of this planet,” he said to Mian who was bending over another dead body. He saw movement at the far end of the glade; someone came running toward them. It was Concitta Sanchez.
“Lieutenant,” she called. “Over here.”
Not knowing what to expect Striker and Mian drew their weapons and walked slowly toward the black woman. They found Professor Banca and Sara Golman kneeling in the grass; between them lay the body of another one of the aliens.
Sara looked up. “This one is still alive,” she said.
The alien turned his head; there was blood seeping from a wound close to his temple, but it was beginning to clot, forming a dark crust. He stared at Striker with large purple eyes. His lips moved and he spoke a few words.
Sara stroked his forehead. “We’re not going to hurt you,” she said soothingly. “You are safe with us.”
Striker studied the stranger; he seemed fragile, his thin body not very tall. He was dressed in a short kilt and vest; both made from animal skins.
“Any others alive?” Striker asked.
“None.” Professor Banca rose to his feet. “We counted seven, including this one. Two females, five males, all older. He is just a boy.”
“How did they die?”
“Violent. Most of them had their heads bashed in.”
“Wonderful. It seems whenever we find intelligent life we also find violence. Whoever did this is still around, maybe even close by.” Striker turned to Mian who had been checking the dead bodies. “Did you find any weapons?”
Mian shook his head. “If they owned any they’re gone now, along with any other possession they may have had.”
“Robbery and murder. How long ago did this happen?”
“Not long. Maybe three hours.”
“They were murdered in their sleep.” Concitta stared at Striker. “We’ll have to bury them.”
Striker nodded. “I’ll…” A clap of thunder interrupted him and then a few drops of rain began to fall. “We better get back to camp. I’ll send a team, after the rain.”
With watchful eyes he
scanned the trees around them, expecting to see a horde of screaming, club swinging aliens spilling into the small glade.
Chapter Twenty-two
Space Station
Before Captain Cunningham entered the cryogenic chamber again, he asked Professor Romanof, Dr. Reinhard, Dr. Wong, Dr. Crestin, and Commander Beringer to join him, then he closed the doors to the chamber, under the protest of the people who remained behind in the corridor.
“How are things coming along?” he asked McGuinness.
The technician looked up from the gauges he had been watching and smiled. “You’re just in time. I think he is about to awaken.”
Looking at the alien man, Cunningham noticed the difference in his complexion. Now he looked like someone sleeping. His chest rose gently with every breath he took. As Cunningham watched he saw the large eyelids twitch, then they snapped open, revealing shiny purple eyes.
Beside the Captain, Dr. Crestin heaved a deep sigh. When he looked at her, he saw a tear running down her cheek.
The alien sat up, looked around with his large eyes. His gaze came to rest on the Captain, who stood closest to him. He smiled and said something with a soft, melodic voice. It was definitely a question.
Cunningham’s throat felt tight, he cleared it loudly, feeling compelled to say something witty, before the stranger assumed these grunts were a language. “I don’t know what you are saying,” he said, “and you probably can’t understand me either, but I welcome you.”
The alien seemed to listen intently, a frown creased his smooth forehead, and then he smiled again. “Welcome you,” he said slowly, his tongue stumbling over the words.
“He speaks our language,” Dr. Crestin said breathlessly.
Pointing at himself, the alien said, “Arel.”
“I’ll be damned!” Dr. Reinhard exclaimed.
“I’ll be damned!” the alien repeated, still smiling, still pointing at himself. “Arel,” he said again.
“I think I’m winning the bet,” Professor Romanof said. “He’s a goddamn parrot. Just repeats what you tell him.”
The Xandra (Book 1): Daughter of the Dark Page 14