The Nexus Colony

by G. F. Schreader

  At least it brought a smile to Korbett’s face. “Ted Payne would shit if I had to tell him that he had to kiss the New Zealander’s asses to borrow a damn drilling rig.”

  “He’d really shit if he had to tell the President,” Maislin commented.

  Vandergrif began to laugh. “I’d pay to see that.”

  “I have to admit,” Maislin responded. “I would, too.”

  Korbett balked at the cold coffee. “Let me think about this.”

  Darbury suddenly let out a cynical laugh.

  “What’s so amusing, Willard?” Korbett asked.

  “Listen to this conversation,” he responded, pausing to laugh more openly. “To think there’s even the remote chance of something being there…” Darbury laughed more. Korbett and the others only looked at him. Maybe he’s right, Korbett thought. Maybe it was absurd.

  Chapter 16

  FEBRUARY 10, 20--

  MULOCK GLACIER

  CREVASSE

  4:19 P.M. GMT

  When Abbott arrived at the surface, Prall was waiting close to the edge. Monroe was operating the winch lever. Unhooking the cable, without hesitation, Abbott gave the hand signal for Monroe to lower it back down where Ruger and Lisk were waiting below attending the frozen body.

  Concentrating now solely on the task at hand, it wasn’t until the body was safely to the surface that Abbott noticed the absence of John Lightfoot. The three men pushed the heavy mass of ice easily along the hard ground until it was on the downside of the glacial slope. Abbott straightened up and looked around for Lightfoot. One of the snowmobiles was gone.

  “Where is he?” Abbott asked, peering off at the distant camp.

  Monroe only stared at him blankly. Abbott turned to Prall. The same passive look was etched on his face.

  “Colonel Prall,” Abbott said. “Where is Mr. Lightfoot?”

  It was as if something in the tone of Abbott’s commanding voice jarred Prall back into reality from wherever his mind had been wandering. Prall shook his head, clearing the cobwebs.

  “I don’t feel so good,” he replied under his breath, then turned away and heaved.

  What’s going on here! Abbott thought, suddenly alerted to the danger. “Donnie!” he exclaimed. “Where’s Lightfoot?”

  Monroe gave him the same blank stare and shrugged his shoulders through the heavy garments.

  Abbott was not a man prone to terror, but the realization at that moment that something was wrong, something dangerously wrong, brought an uncontrollable feeling of panic into Abbott. He quickly looked all around himself and up into the sky. The air was eerily calm, and Abbott noticed the faint trace of a familiar odor that he should have recognized right away when he got back to the surface. Ozone.

  Prall was still heaving his guts out. Abbott turned and grabbed Monroe by the shoulders, and despite the bulky layers of clothing, was able to shake him until he began to respond with verbal protests, pulling away his face protection. Then it was Monroe’s turn to vomit, and Abbott spun him out of the way.

  Letting go, Abbott turned again to look off at the distant camp. Both men behind him stood motionless, still gagging vomit. Prall was coherent now, but still stood dazed and disoriented.

  Something was wrong, and it had happened up here while everyone else was down in the crevasse. That was how long now…five, six hours? More? Abbott struggled to maintain control. He knew what was going on now. He’d been here before. Keeping a handle was the only chance left for survival. That was, as long as The Visitors permitted the humans to keep control. All of Abbott’s previous suspicions were now confirmed. When he heard Lisk calling on the radio, where Prall had left it sitting in the open, he scurried to answer it. Lisk was reporting that they had found a paneled structure behind the wall where the body had been removed. There was no longer any doubt about anything.

  Think man, think! Abbott struggled within himself. There’s no room for panic. Not now!

  “Al,” he called on the radio. “Listen up. We’re going to take the body down to the camp. I’ll contact you as soon as I get back up on the ridge. Over.”

  “Roger,” the response crackled through the static.

  Static. There shouldn’t be any static. Abbott responded, “Al, I’ve got a lot of RFI up here.” Abbott looked all around again, up at the sky. “The interference is getting worse. Over.”

  There was a moment’s pause. It must have been the tone in Abbott’s otherwise indifferent voice. Lisk responded, “You got a problem up there? Over.”

  As much as Abbott had tried to disguise his concern, Lisk was able to sense his uneasiness. They’d worked together too long. Hoping that none of the others down there were within earshot, Abbott took a chance and said, “We’ve had visitors. Okay to talk? Over.”

  Lisk looked over his shoulders. Everyone was still sitting off in the distance in the alcove. “Roger. Go ahead. Over,” he replied.

  Abbott responded quickly. “Lightfoot’s gone. Prall and Donnie are disoriented as hell, but they’re all right. I’m going down to the camp alone to see if I can find out anything. Maybe Lightfoot’s down there. Over.”

  “Be careful, Marsh. Make sure the cable mechanism is locked before you leave. Over.”

  Abbott cursed to himself that he hadn’t thought of it. “You find the entrance yet? Over.”

  “Not yet. We’re still looking. Over.”

  “Find the best spot to bust through. Then wait until I get back down. Over.” Although how in the hell they were going to bust through these panels was another problem, considering their incredible strength.

  “Okay. We’ll do that. Out.”

  “Roger. Watch yourself. Out.”

  Abbott searched around the rig and found a clamp which obviously was for the very thing Lisk had just suggested. Securing it to the cable, he made sure the blocking device was sufficient to prevent the cable from re-winding back onto its spool. Extraterrestrials have been known to activate devices even when they’ve been turned off. The last thing they needed was to become stranded down in the crevasse with the cable reeled back in and nobody there to send it back down. It was a long climb, and Abbott doubted that even Mike Ruger would be able to accomplish it without a rope or cable.

  Abbott hurried toward the snowmobiles. “You guys all right?” he asked, and Prall responded by waving affirmative.

  Abbott stopped. “You guys remember anything? Anything at all?”

  Prall was still groggy, but responded, “Those bastards!”

  “Keep control of yourself, Prall,” Abbott replied. “We need all our wits about us now.”

  “Yeah…” he responded. “Yeah. I’m all right. I just don’t remember…”

  “That’s Okay,” Abbott encouraged. “They’ve been here.”

  “Where’s Lightfoot?” Prall asked, groggily.

  “Gone,” Abbott responded. “Now listen up. Both of you. They’ve blocked out your memory. Lightfoot’s disappeared. Looks like he took one of the machines.” Abbott thought to take a look through Prall’s binoculars, but at this point, what did it matter?

  “Donnie, you keep the radio in case Al calls. I want the both of you to stay as alert as you can. I’m going down to the camp to see if I can find out what’s happened to Lightfoot.”

  “Yes sir,” Monroe responded.

  “Most important,” Abbott continued, “we’ve found the dome. Al’s looking for the entrance to it. I don’t want to cause any panic especially down there. Al knows what’s going on up here. Nobody else does, unless he was able to tell Peter. I want it kept that way. No talking on the radio. Got it?”

  Prall nodded.

  “No screw-ups. You guys sure you’re all right? No signs of frostbite?”

  “Yeah. We’re all right,” Prall assured him, disgusted with himself. “Lightfoot was over there with us…” His voice trailed off.

  “Forget him for now,” Abbott responded. He looked at the frozen body. They had to keep it close. “I’m leaving this thing here with yo
u for the time being. Keep an eye out. They’re here. All around. I’m going to make arrangements to get it out of here ASAP.” Abbott knew deep inside, however, that if The Visitors didn’t want it to leave, it wasn’t going anywhere. They’d stop it for sure. Abbott would have to cross that bridge when the time came. In the meantime…

  “All right, I’m out of here,” Abbott called. “Just keep your wits about yourselves,” he said with a pleading tone of voice, but didn’t think they heard him.

  And with that, he jumped on the snowmobile and started the engine, zooming off down the glacial slope. Prall cursed again, brandishing his weapon while he sat on the mass of ice encasing the body. Monroe inspected it closely. He was shaking like a leaf inside his garments. It wasn’t from the cold.

  * * * * *

  If Abbott’s thoughts would have in any way subscribed to Vallee’s classification of events, it would have plugged directly into AN-2—an anomalous event showing lasting physical effects. As he arrived at the perimeter of the camp, slowing the snowmobile down to a crawl, the evidence that some anomalous event had indeed taken place was all around him. Though the event had to have happened a while ago, the ozone smell still lingered in the cold, heavy air. The electrically-charged atmosphere made the hairs on his body stand on end. But most evident of all was the discoloration of the ice and the hole in the ice sheet.

  Shutting the engine off, Abbott dismounted and stood in the foreboding silence. His emotional self was still heightened, the thought of a nearby extraterrestrial presence foremost in his mind. This had taken place here. Despite his past experiences with such events, he couldn’t shake off the terror that was still welling up inside him. Perhaps his subconscious was making him more aware of the fact that, unlike past experiences when he had investigated anomalous events of this nature, he couldn’t retreat from this one. If The Visitors came back, there was nowhere to hide out on The Ice. Nowhere.

  It was no longer a matter of conjecturing why they were here keeping a close watch on the humans. Abbott’s team had made a startling discovery that The Visitors didn’t want them to make. Abbott’s thoughts were running wildly. Have we found an alien cemetery? A complex? What? Abbott could only speculate. The others down in the crevasse…was he jeopardizing…no, was he sacrificing their safety to continue with this mission? After all, the mission objective was only to find the source of the artifacts. There wasn’t any doubt. They’d found the source, all right. And a body to go with it. Though they couldn’t make out the features, it had to be alien. Most likely not of human origin. No humans have ever lived here that we know about.

  The missing snowmobile was standing off to the side of the perimeter. The sleds had been moved away from the center where Abbott knew they had been lined up when the group left earlier this morning. As a matter of fact, they had been left right where the hole was located.

  Abbott stepped cautiously closer. They knew he was here. There was no need to sneak. It was just whether they were going to let him alone. He knelt beside the hole in the ice. It was about twenty feet in diameter, only six inches deep. But it was perfectly molded as if something had punched a hole. It was smooth around the edges, and the surface was like a sheet of glass. It seemed apparent the ice had been instantaneously melted making a pool of water, then instantly re-frozen to form the glassy surface. It was a strange color—a bluish-gray. Abbott looked closely trying to see through the translucence. He couldn’t see any suspended particles. He theorized that any debris would have sunk to the bottom of the pool of water before it froze. He rapped on it. Solid. How deep the water had been, he couldn’t tell. They’d need a sample for chemical analysis to take back along with the body.

  Photographs. Lightfoot’s gear was gone, but he remembered Ruger stating that he had a camera of his own. It must still be in Ruger’s tent. No. Wait. Wasn’t the battery dead? Lightfoot…

  The silent, frigid wind brushed against his face reminding him that another alien force was still omni-present. Abbott stood erect and peered around. There was still the chance that Lightfoot was either nearby or in one of the tents. Hardly likely, though, or else the man would have come out to greet him considering the din made by the revving snowmobile. There was no howling wind to drown it out. But Abbott knew he had to check anyway. There was also the chance that Lightfoot was worse off than Prall and Monroe…

  He shuddered at the thought. Abbott made a quick reconnaissance of the immediate area surrounding the camp perimeter. No signs that Lightfoot had been there. No struggle. He checked Ruger’s tent first, then the other two, each time his heart pounding wildly as he entered the flap, not knowing what he might find inside. When Abbott lastly entered his own tent, he was somewhat relieved to find nothing had been touched. But he had now confirmed what he thought all along. Lightfoot was gone. Probably taken by The Visitors. Abbott was familiar with their modus operandi. They had brought the abductee back to the human’s habitat and had taken him from the encampment. The scar on the ice was their calling card. And the message was clear and simple. GET OUT!

  Abbott fought his nervous twitches, trying desperately to keep control of his wits. He reached to switch on the transmitter and computer, and for a split second the pangs of terror surged through his body, fearing that maybe the devices had been disabled. His fear was put to rest quickly as the devices sparked to life. The window was closing for the satellite communication. There was nothing more he could hope for now except to get the communication out as quickly as possible and onto the Internet. He thought carefully how to word the message. It was to the point. It read:

  Field Team Ruger – URGENT - artifact for pick-up ASAP - wx getting severe - have made contact with some friends - team exhausted but have found more shelter - advise of team status – MA - END.

  It was sent in care of Jim Morrison, who would forward it to the government contact, whoever that person was.

  The message, once it got to Korbett, would translate as such: get the plane in here as fast as you can, because we’ve got another artifact that needs to get out to you right now. The Visitors are here, and they’re getting nasty. We’ve found the source of the artifacts. What should I do with these people? What should we do next?

  Abbott decided he’d be better off telling the pick-up crew about Lightfoot’s disappearance, that way they could keep the information confidential until his superiors decided how to break the news.

  Assuming the message was already on its way to be delivered, realistically that left about two hours before any plane would arrive, presumably from McMurdo, where Abbott was certain a LC-130 was on stand-by to get them out if the need arose. Three hours, maybe, if they had to bring in a plane from somewhere else, although he couldn’t imagine where else they’d come from. They’d all be long gone into the cosmos by then if The Visitors reacted with any hostility towards them.

  Abbott sat down for a few moments to catch a breather. Then he stepped outside to await a response, turning up the volume full so he could hear any incoming message tone, if indeed one was going to come back. The faint trace of ozone still lingered in the extreme cold air.

  Abbott inhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves. This was an adversary more formidable than mankind had ever faced. The combined armies of the world could never cope with these entities. He looked off into the distance, first up the glacial slope where he could vaguely make out the figures of the two men, then down across the glacial field. It had become very calm again. And as usual, when the wind didn’t blow, it was deathly quiet.

  From the mission objective, the strategy was now to get the evidence out, which would be accomplished once the LC-130 arrived to take custody of the frozen body. Assuming, of course, that it would be allowed to depart the glacier. Another frightening scenario in the back of his mind. The other objective was to get the team out safely before any hostile action was demonstrated against them, although for all intent and purpose, the apparent abduction of Lightfoot was about as hostile as it could get. Of course, it was all co
ntingent upon the incoming orders. Whether their mission was fulfilled at this point wouldn’t be clear until he got a response. The waiting game.

  For a moment, Abbott felt genuine compassion for these people from the National Science Foundation who were victims of circumstance by their presence here. Grimes and Bryson—they had no more business being here than the man in the moon. But they had become implicated nonetheless by the politicizing of powerful men. A factor truly uniquely human. Abbott knew they were all expendable. He felt sorry for them. But that’s the way things are. You accept it and slough off any emotional connection to it. The mission. Abbott would do what he was ordered to do. Humanity comes first. Not just a handful of humans. The needs of the many….

  The tone startled him. A message had come back quickly. The window had apparently still been opened. Abbott scurried back inside the tent. The message on the computer screen was short and to the point. It read:

  Field Team Ruger - ETA 1750 - keep shelter secure - sorry, no immediate relief from the wx - forecast more of same - try to keep friends entertained - back-up team on the way - meantime, maintain present status – WK - END

  What it meant was that the plane would be on its way to pick up the artifact—they didn’t even know what it was—but that a back-up team had not yet been deployed to McMurdo. Abbott cursed. What in the hell had they been waiting for? Now that the discovery had been made, somebody was finally getting off his ass to take some action. This wasn’t Bill Korbett’s way of doing business. It made Abbott all the more suspect of what in the hell was really going on out here. Something just didn’t sit well.

  But at the moment, there wasn’t anything he was going to do about it. They were stranded out on this god-forsaken glacier having verified an alien contact. There was no defense against them. The team had found what appears to be a building structure or something. For the next two hours they were going to be in limbo. And vulnerable. Totally, completely vulnerable. There was only one thing left to focus on. That was the mission. And hope they were going to be left alive to tell about it.