by Gavin Smith
‘No offence, mate, but are you in isolation?’ I asked Gregor. He nodded.
‘Not fit to mix with the other children,’ he said.
‘So it’s you, not the alien?’ I asked.
‘It’s both. We sent me because I would be the best able to communicate with youse.’
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘Pretty much what I said. My other half effectively colonised my body. You ‘re looking at the first hybrid between us and Them.’
‘Who’s in control?’ I asked.
‘At the moment neither, but normally both. Look, despite seeing what you ‘re seeing now there’s been some changes. We are fully integrated.’ I didn’t like the sound of this and he must’ve seen it on my face. ‘It’s okay, man. It maybe wasn’t what I’d planned in my life but I would not have survived for you to get me out if it hadn‘t been for my other side.’
‘So are you Gregor?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘But it’d probably be easier if you call me that.’
I took another sip of whisky. A packet of cigarettes had appeared on the table. I took one out and lit it. It was nice to see that Morag understood my coping habits, or at least my putting-off-dealing-with-things habits.
‘So why did you want to integrate with my friend?’ I asked it. I caught Gregor’s icon’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as I spoke. Morag shook her head in disgust. Gregor considered me for a bit before answering.
‘It was trying to communicate with us,’ Gregor said. So Pagan had been right. ‘All They have ever experienced from us is violence, therefore They assumed that our society was based on violence, which to a certain degree it is. They assumed the most violent were the leaders, which was a reasonable assumption to make.’
‘So They went after special forces operators,’ I said, understanding. ‘What do They want?’ I already knew the answer.
‘Peace,’ Gregor said. I gave this some thought as I took a drag on my cigarette. The cherry glowed brighter -1 was impressed despite myself.
‘How do we know you ‘re telling the truth?’ I asked.
‘Trust,’ Annis answered. ‘So we ‘re probably fucked,’ she added bitterly.
‘Yeah, well hands up if you’re a human?’ I said and put my hand up knowing I was acting like a prick.
‘Hands up if you’re an arsehole,’ Annis suggested. I dropped my hand. ‘Look, you ‘re here because I thought you‘d be of more use in helping bring your friend back than Mudge. Instead it’s you who needs all the reassurance,’ Morag said.
‘Are you surprised? I’ve spent most of my adult life with these things trying to kill me. If we’re wrong, if we trust the thing in your head and So-I-Married-An-Alien over here—’ Gregor smirked again ‘—we could hand over this planet to Them and effectively wipe out our own species, have you thought about that?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Really? Because you seem pretty quick to trust the alien, and believe me you wouldn’t if you‘d seen what any of us have seen.’
‘So I don’t get an opinion because I haven’t been to war yet?’ she asked.
Gregor was watching the exchange like a tennis match. I was beginning to find the constant smile infuriating.
‘What did Rolleston want with you?’ I asked him, ignoring Morag’s question.
‘That’s kind of a long story and I’d rather tell it to everyone,’ Gregor said. ‘Besides, I haven’t insulted Mudge in a while; I’ve no doubt you’ve been remiss.’
‘Remiss? The alien bring a vocabulary with him?’ I said, realising that I was treating him like my old friend again. I turned back to Annis, who still looked angry.
‘Why don’t you look like the hag any more?’ I asked.
‘I do, I just thought this would be easier for Gregor,’ she said through gritted teeth. Feeling the cold I turned back to Gregor.
‘So I’m assuming you ‘re still sedated?’ I said. He nodded. ‘And you’ll play nice when you wake up.’ He shook his head. ‘No?’
‘That’s why we’re here,’ Annis said impatiently.
‘When they realised that the facility was under attack they programmed me to attack.’
‘Programmed?’ I asked.
‘Vicar was right: effectively Their physiology is a kind of naturally occurring nanite. Their technology and biology are one,’ Annis said.
‘And the Cabal have developed bioware interfaces,’ Gregor added. ‘Effectively they used primitive bionanites of their own to reprogram my own biology,’ he said. It struck me then that the war was over. All we had to do was release these nanites and programme Them to leave us alone. Except of course that we might be the aggressors.
‘The Cabal?’ I asked.
‘Later,’ Annis told me. ‘We’ve got some of the sedative and between us and Ambassador we ‘re trying to find a way to turn off the kill signal.’
‘Because if not, I’m going to wake up and kill everyone, starting with that big fish-looking bastard,’ Gregor said in a disturbingly matter-of-fact manner.
‘So how come you ‘re here?’ I asked.
‘Because he still has his ports and the alien has wired himself to them to allow input and output,’ Annis answered. ‘You need to go now, we have work to do.’
Gregor winked at me.
‘Cunt,’ I said, meaning Gregor, and waking up. I felt like shit. I mean really bad. I felt weak, really sick and patches of my skin were very sore. I needed some more of Papa Neon’s pills and quickly. The slight but noticeable near-constant moving of the room I was in wasn’t helping me with my nausea.
I was lying on a fold-up cot riveted into the floor. The room had a curved wall on the left-hand side - sorry, port side - that told me we were in a ship, next to the hull and, judging by the sound, beneath the waterline. The walls were undressed steel. I assumed I was in some kind of smuggling hold on the Mountain Princess. Looking around I could see other cots, and there were various bits and pieces of gear scattered about. I could see an opening to a separate area of the hold. Someone had draped a drab grey blanket over the opening but light was creeping around it. I could also hear voices from the other side.
‘I’m not sure this is a good idea,’ I heard Mudge say as I downed some more of Papa Neon’s special pills, some painkillers and a mild upper. Just to get me out of bed. I noticed I had some red lesions on my skin. They bled whenever anything touched or rubbed against them. I saw that they had been dressed as well as circumstances would allow.
‘Morag will not wake him unless it is safe,’ I heard Rannu assuring Mudge as I stumbled towards the blanket curtain. Feeling the familiar tug from the back of my neck, I reached behind me and removed the plug; looking down I saw an extension line that led to the next room. This was the connection that had allowed me to enter Gregor’s safe environment. The almost imperceptible movement of the huge docked ore carrier was making my stomach roll. I tried not to heave and wished I had a cigarette.
‘Rannu, while your faith is a beautiful thing I’m not convinced it’s going to stop me from being torn limb from limb,’ Mudge again.
‘I will avenge you,’ I heard Balor growl with relish.
‘Oh that’s very reassuring,’ Mudge paused. ‘You ... you’re looking forward to this, aren’t you?’ I reached the blanket and tried to pull it aside but only succeeded in pulling it down. ‘What are you doing?’ I heard Mudge ask incredulously.
I staggered through into the next compartment. Balor, Rannu and Mudge stood in a semicircle around what looked like a high-tech glass coffin crossed with a stretcher. It was secured to two workbenches. I recognised it as a man-portable intensive care unit. It was similar to those used by Carrion, as we squaddies rather unfairly called battlefield medics because they were under orders to strip cybernetics from the injured and dead. This one had presumably been modified to handle biohazard containment, though I couldn’t see it holding if Gregor got angry somehow. Morag and Pagan were leaning against the bulkhead furthest away from the cof
fin to my immediate right -sorry, starboard. Both were obviously tranced - I could see wires extending from their neck ports to the portable ICU.
I leant against the doorway fighting for breath. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this weak before. Mudge glanced behind him. He was focused on aiming his AK-47 at the portable ICU. Rannu was doing the same with his gauss carbine and Balor appeared to be slinging his Spectre/grenade launcher combo and extending his spear into a trident configuration.
‘You got a cigarette?’ I asked Mudge.
‘Bit busy right now. Balor, clearly an automatic weapon is more appropriate than a fucking fishing spear.’ Even Rannu was glancing in askance at the eight-foot-tall, heavy-conversion cyborg. Balor was just grinning.
‘Okay, we’re waking him up.’ I heard Morag’s voice. It seemed to be coming from Pagan’s staff, which was lying across his lap.
‘Are you sure he’s ready?’ I was surprised to hear Rannu ask. His answer was the clear top of the ICU sliding down. Rannu and Mudge tensed ever so slightly while Balor looked on in eager expectation. Some smoky chemical gas or other, could’ve been oxygen for all I knew, drifted out of the ICU. I decided that if the-thing-that-was-once-Gregor was going to kill me I was going to have a cigarette and even a drink if I could find one. I decided that I wouldn’t tell Mudge about the TTTWOG acronym; I didn’t think anyone else would thank me if I did. I turned and headed back to my cot.
‘Easy, easy. Easy!’ I heard Mudge from behind me. I wondered if they’d considered that pointing guns and antique poking weapons at him might encourage a fight or flight response. Probably not. I heard much shuffling and shouted commands from next door as I located my cigarettes and was pleased to find Mudge’s hip flask. It probably contained vodka but it would be good vodka, and I’d always felt the Russians and the Scots had a lot in common.
‘Gregor, are you okay?’ Pagan’s voice. I think he was trying to be soothing but instead it sounded patronising. If I were a dangerous human/alien hybrid his tone would upset me.
‘Okay, everybody needs to just calm ... Balor? Balor!’ It was Morag’s voice now. I considered grabbing a gun but I seemed to be swaying and decided I would probably be more danger than use. Nausea overwhelmed me. Fortunately I could see a bucket nearby and I managed to reach it before I puked up what looked like bile and blood. There was the sound of rapid movement next door and a low growling noise.
‘No!’ Morag said. It was a voice similar to the one my dad would use when scolding a bad dog. I assumed she was talking to Balor. I spat out the residue of vomit in my mouth and clambered back to my feet. It was as if I could feel myself rotting from the inside. I cleaned my mouth with vodka and spat that into the bucket before taking a tenuous sip of it. I kept it down despite the burn. It didn’t quite get rid of the taste however.
‘Balor, can we not antagonise the potentially dangerous alien life form, please?’ Mudge asked. ‘You did turn off the kill order, didn’t you, dear?’ he added.
‘I think so,’ Morag replied. I didn’t like how unsure of herself she sounded. I lit up a cigarette. The mouthful of smoke was somehow reassuring and making me feel more nauseous at the same time.
Making it back to the entrance to the next compartment, I leant heavily on the hull. Gregor was standing in front of the ICU. He was crouching slightly. It was the stance of a cornered predator. The black pools of his eyes were looking around the room. Going from person to person. Sizing them up. Waiting for them to move. I had more time to study him as he wasn’t moving so quickly and kicking Balor’s arse at the moment. He looked like someone had taken one of Them and tried to squeeze it into a human shell without making any allowances for human physiology. Which in a way was what had happened. Recognising the human bits of him - the familiar, if warped, features of my friend - somehow made him/it (I was still confused by that) seem more alien. He looked at me as I took another drag from the cigarette and fought my nausea. I nodded at him. He seemed to stare at me. I was too ill to be unnerved. He opened his mouth. I was relieved to see healthy-looking human teeth, though they looked more perfect than I remember Gregor’s being. He screamed, sort of. I put my hands over my ears as the noise went right through my skull. Even my dampeners kicking in didn’t seem to do much good. Morag had her hands over her ears. The others were grimacing. I’d heard a similar noise before, when I had dreamed of the alien spires, but this was different, distorted, discordant, angry.
Gregor’s mouth closed with an audible snap of his teeth. Rannu and Mudge were still nervously covering him, Pagan was behind them, Morag was standing just in front of them and Balor was edging round the side trying to flank him.
‘Guys, lower the guns, yeah?’ I suggested.
‘What a great fucking idea,’ Mudge said. ‘If he gets too excitable I can just beat him unconscious with my enormous cock.’
‘Do you want me to go and get that from your bag?’ I asked him. ‘Seriously, all we’re doing is threatening him and then you wonder why he’s not acting calm.’
‘He’s right,’ Morag said and moved directly into Mudge’s line of fire.
‘Shit,’ Mudge raised the barrel of his weapon and began moving for position.
‘Mudge,’ I said softly. He stopped. Somewhat reluctantly I could see Rannu lower his carbine. ‘It’s him,’ I said to Mudge. I wasn’t sure if I believed it. Mudge glanced over at me and then lowered his gun. We all looked over at Balor. Balor sighed deeply, obviously disappointed.
‘Buncha pussies,’ he muttered and glared at Gregor before going and sitting on a heavily reinforced folding chair in the corner.
Morag stepped towards Gregor, who like me was swaying slightly, though I suspect for different reasons. The human/alien hybrid towered over her. He was as tall, possibly taller, than Balor, though he had a much more slender build. Watching him loom over her was the only time I got really nervous. She stretched out her hand to him. He looked at it for a while before finally reaching out with his own bony hand. His fingers were too long and had too many joints in them. I thought he was going to wrap his fingers multiple times around Morag’s small hand.
Morag led Gregor over to another chair, but instead of sitting he just crouched down, almost seeming to fold himself up. There was something insectile about his position. I could not square this thing with the Gregor I had spoken to in the virtual construct. He looked at me and then at Mudge and smiled, and then pointed at Mudge.
‘Fucking what?’ Mudge said. I started laughing.
‘He’s surprised to see someone more alien-looking than he is,’ Morag said, smiling slyly. Rannu and Pagan started laughing; even Balor smiled sulkily. Gregor’s mouth opened and he laughed. That shut all of us up. At first it was like a seal barking, then it seemed to modulate and change until it sounded a bit like Gregor’s easy laugh, though off somehow. We all just stared at him.
‘Seems you being weird-looking is funny no matter what race you are,’ I said, as I stubbed out my cigarette and took another pull of vodka. Mudge gave me the finger but he seemed to have relaxed.
‘Hey, is that my hip flask?’ he demanded.
‘Yep.’ I took another swallow of vodka and then Gregor reached over from what seemed like very far away and took the flask from my hand. We all watched as he drained the rest of the flask.
‘I think he’s working on instinct,’ Pagan said almost apologetically. I found it reassuring that there was that much of a squaddie left in him.
‘Can you speak to us?’ Pagan asked in his irritating, patronising tone. Gregor turned to look at him, his head seeming to swivel too far round. He opened his mouth and there was a squeal of distortion, as though through a microphone. His voice seemed to cycle through tones and possibly frequencies until it found one it liked and he started to sound more like Gregor again.
‘Of ... course ... I ... can ... fucking speak to you, I’m ... not ... fucking stupid.’ His head swivelled round at a disconcerting angle to look at me. ‘Who’s ... your mate?’ Mudge and I grinne
d. Though I think we both knew that this was not the Gregor we had known, that this was something completely different, he was in there somewhere.
I was getting used to oddness. Me, Mudge and Pagan sitting in a circle talking to a sea demon, a teenaged girl and an alien was beginning to feel commonplace. We let Gregor ease back into human communication by telling him a heavily abridged version of what was going on. He mostly stayed quiet, asking the occasional question. He seemed awkward with himself, even after Morag had found him a pair of Balor’s cut-off shorts and he’d tied them round his waist. I realised halfway through Pagan’s description of God, which I couldn’t be bothered to listen to, that he was ashamed of his alien-ness. Somehow that seemed reassuringly human, but I couldn’t think of anything to do that would make him or us feel better about this.
Gibby and Buck had returned about halfway through our brief. I wasn’t sure whether they’d been sent away in case they angered Gregor or had decided to not be around themselves, but when they returned Gregor stood up, or unfolded himself. Both Gibby and Buck had backed away, hands going to holstered antique revolvers at their sides. We’d calmed things down but Gregor still looked like he might eat either of them and they looked like they might bolt at any time.
‘Who’re the Cabal?’ I finally asked him, several hours later, when I was pretty sure that we’d exhausted our version of events.
‘The people who’ve done all this. The people who captured me and experimented on me,’ Gregor said. His voice, almost normal now, was lulling me into believing he was both human and my friend. ‘Basically a group of fat old rich guys. Invisible men, corporate old money, intelligence agency types, military and civil service high-ups.’
‘From where?’ Mudge asked.
‘Most anywhere, but mainly Europe and America, as far as I can tell.’
‘A conspiracy?’ Buck asked scornfully. Gregor swivelled his head round and looked at him with the black pools of his eyes, long enough to make the pilot feel very uncomfortable. Buck was opening his mouth to say something when Gregor answered.