Alliance (Terran Chronicles Book 4)

by James Jackson

  One of the scientists puts on a biohazard suit, then walks clumsily to the craft. He leans underneath, finds the lever, and pulls on it. The hatchway into the craft opens with a grating sound, accompanied by a hiss that makes everyone step back. The suit-wearing scientist freezes in fear as his imagination runs wild.

  Walker gulps when he notices a small gas cloud escaping the shuttle. The cloud lasts mere seconds, and quickly dissipates. A couple of the scientists frantically take air samples, while others continue to record the day’s events. While they wait for the preliminary results, the man beneath the alien craft stands up and sticks his head inside. With the aid of a powerful flashlight, he quickly gives the interior a cursory examination. Turning completely around, he is relieved to find nothing lurking inside. He steps away and gives a thumbs up. He lifts his arms and allows other suit wearing scientists to sample the surface of his suit.

  After what feels like an eternity to Barbara and Walker, one of the scientists walks over, and with a smile, reports. “Good news. The vapor cloud was simply dust build up, and nothing to worry about.” He turns to gaze back at the alien craft, and then adds, “It’s safe to go inside without protective gear.”

  Walker stares at the craft dubiously. Dust from where? He takes a deep breath and says, “Well then, I had better go and take a look.” He walks to craft, and with the aid of small step stool, he enters the open hatch. Powerful lights are handed to him, which he arrays so as to see as much of the interior as he can. He studies the back of a single large chair, the main feature in the small area, for a moment, before shifting his attention. He nods in appreciation as he identifies what could only be a sleeping area, a possible shower, and plenty of storage space. The walls on either side of the chair seem to have control panels built into them. Alien writings are sketched here and there. They are clearly not Gamin, and look alarming similar enough to Russian to give him the chills.

  “How is it in there?” Calls out a scientist whose head peeks into the craft.

  “Amazing,” Walker replies as he takes a few steps toward the back of the chair. “Oh crap!” he says in surprise when the chair turns around to face him. He reels backward in alarm at what he sees.

  The scientist who is watching almost wets himself at the disturbing sight. He crawls out from under the craft, staggers away on shaky legs, and then faints.

  Barbara calls out in alarm, “What is it?”

  Walker stares transfixed at the dead alien. Its skin has long since turned to dust as have its bodily organs. What does remain is its long canine teeth, which are clearly visible in its slightly elongated skull. Walker flinches as his mind is drawn to stories of Dracula. He gazes at the creature’s skeletal hands, his face twitches when he counts its six fingers, further adding to his discomfort. The alien’s clothing is in tatters. The remnants of its shirt and pants only partially cover the exposed white bones. Walker leans closer and discerns what appear to be two distinctive patches still attached to the creature’s shirt. He frowns as he wonders if they are military insignia, or something else.

  Exiting the craft, Walker finally responds, “An alien body.” He stares at the craft and takes a long time pondering the best course of action.

  All the while, Barbara paces back and forth, waiting not so patiently. Finally she demands, “Well?”

  Walker takes a deep breath, then says, “I want the body examined and the ship studied carefully before anyone starts touching anything. If we can, I want to learn as much as is possible of the alien language before proceeding.”

  Rubbing her chin, Barbara responds, “The Liberty’s mainframe is still functional, so that will help.”

  Walker nods, then adds, “The alien’s shirt looks to me to be some sort of uniform, but I can’t tell if its military based or not.”

  “Did you find any weapons?” Barbara asks.

  “I didn’t see any, but then I didn’t touch anything either.” Walker scratches his head and says, “I hope the ship has logs we can access. That would go a long way toward answering our questions.”

  Nodding in agreement, she tells her small team, “Set up a facility here for the study of the corpse. I want every test imaginable run on the body.” She gazes at the craft, then says, “Take pictures of everything, and get language experts involved.”

  Walker puts his hands on his hips and adds, “It is imperative that no one touches any panel until we have some understanding of the language.”

  Barbara attempts to inject some humor, “We don’t even know how to flush the toilet, if it even has one.” She glances at Walker with a whimsical smile.

  The General replies with a grin, “I am pretty sure the craft has all the creature comforts of home.”

  A couple of nearby scientists chuckle at Walker’s unintended joke. He sternly glances their way and they get back to work. The task of extracting and examining the alien’s body is not so much a difficult one, but a time consuming one. As for deciphering the language, that proves to be a daunting task.

  The residents of Hawking are excited about the alien spacecraft, and enjoy the distraction from their usual routines. Rumors and speculation are rife about the origins of the craft, and its mission.

  Location:

  Manhattan Island

  New York

  The Texan’s drawl loudly sounds out from his office. “Where are my alien detectives?”

  Both Edwards and Jones cringe at the title. Ever since they solved the mystery surrounding the deaths on the rooftops, they have been assigned any and every crime committed that even remotely has anything to do with the long since departed Gamin. The pair even have an office in the Gamin Quarter, one that holds a myriad of alien gizmos that were left behind.

  Captain Harris strides from his office and bellows once more, “Edwards, Jones, you ‘ave another alien case. I know you’re here somewhere, so quit hiding.”

  Both men stand, then while ignoring the cat-calls and various comments from their colleagues, step into the Captain’s office. Within minutes they leave, and hurry downtown.

  With sirens blazing, Jones drives through the city traffic. He skillfully navigates his way around others who seem hell bent on making his journey as hazardous as is possible.

  Edwards shakes his head as he comments on their assignment, “We get to investigate a stupid bank robbery.” He sighs, and then with disappointment in his tone, adds, “We’re supposed to be homicide detectives!”

  “I know,” Jones replies disparagingly as he swerves around another car which just pulled out in front of them. He glances to Edwards, and attempts to imitate their captain’s voice, “Y’all, just quit yer bitchin, and git to it!”

  With squealing tires, they arrive at their destination. The People’s Bank of New York is a new bank, and the one which was reported as being robbed. The detectives hurriedly exit their car, and then stop and stare at the bank’s entrance with bewilderment. The buildings entire facade is a gaping hole. Glass and concrete litter the ground, and the foyer. Dozens of police are busy cordoning the area off, and keeping the curious onlookers back from the scene of the crime.

  Jones scratches his head and says, “Well, let’s get this over with.”

  Edwards nods in agreement, approaches one of the policemen, and asks, “Who’s in charge?”

  “You will find Matt inside,” the policeman replies while pointing to the ruined foyer.

  The pair of detectives stride into the bank, crunching broken glass underfoot with each step. The bank’s countertops are a mess, as if someone had driven a tank through them. A wall at the back of the office space is similarly damaged.

  Another policeman hurries to the pair and speaks rapidly, “I’m Matt. You guys from downtown?”

  “Sure are,” Jones replies. Then while shaking his head, he adds, “I don’t know what you want us for though?”

  Matt gulps and then says, “Come with me. I will show you.”

  Edwards and Jones glance at each other, and then follow him through t
he opening in the wall. Matt is visibly shaking as he points to a pile of debris which is all that remains of the vault’s door. Twisted metal, and pink colored concrete chunks are all that remain.

  Jones frowns, steps forward and then gazes around. It suddenly dawns on him that the walls of the office are painted a soft blue, not pink.

  With a shaky voice, Matt speaks, “The staff says the bank manager was standing in front of the vault one second, and the next, he was gone.”

  “Who moved the body? And why weren’t we told about the murder?” Jones demands.

  Matt shrugs his shoulders and with wide eyes replies, “That’s all that is left of the guy. I didn’t know what to report, but everyone has heard of you guys.” He adds optimistically, “If anyone can figure this out, it’s you guys.”

  Edwards sighs, and then asks, “Okay. What do you know?”

  Matt is relieved to be handing over the responsibility of the crime scene. He takes a deep breath and then begins, “Witnesses say that an alien shuttle came through the front entrance, and then slowly made its way to the back of the bank. Everyone had plenty of time to get out of the way, and most of the people did.”

  Jones nods for Matt to continue, and says, “Go on.”

  “Well, it seems that the bank manager decided to stand in front of the vault.” Matt quickly checks his notes, and then continues, “The front of the shuttle began to shimmer, like a heat wave, and then in an instant, the vault door was shattered open. All that remains of the manager is, that.” He points to the debris, and then shakes his head.

  “Okay,” Jones replies slowly, “and then?”

  “Oh,” Matt says as he checks his notes again. Stammering, he continues. “Four people wearing bodysuits, like the ones the aliens had, stepped out from a hatch. They loaded all the money, and the valuables from the locked boxes into the shuttle. By the time we arrived, the thieves had made their escape.”

  Jones stares at the officer for a few moments, and then with annoyance asks, “How did they leave? On foot? By Car? And which way did they go?”

  Matt stammers nervously as he responds, “The left in the shuttle. As for the direction, well, they went straight up.”

  Edwards stares out through the shattered foyer and states, “So, all we need to find is a group of bodysuit wearing thieves who have a shuttle with gravity plating mounted on its nose.”

  Jones sighs as he nods in agreement. He glances to Edwards, and with a hint of hopelessness says, “Another case for the archives.”

  The pair of detectives leave the scene. Both of them shake their heads as they head back to their car.

  Chapter Seven - Derelict Demolition Duty

  Location:

  Starship Terran

  Twenty One Thousand Light Years from Earth

  Lifeless Planet

  Gamin Derelict

  John turns to look at Cindy, grins proudly and reports, “We’re in orbit around the planet with the Gamin derelict on it.”

  Joe taps on his console with a grin and says, “The three Gamin satellites are still orbiting the planet. George, can you give me a hand? I want to try to link with them.”

  While George and Joe busily tap away at their consoles, the rest of the command crew stares in silence at the scene before them. The bridge crew’s initial excitement at arriving is dulled by the depressing sight. This planet was once home to a thriving civilization. Instead, angry looking grey clouds swirl around the lifeless planet. Bright flashes from unseen storms, a spectacle not observed during their last visit, flicker through the cloud cover. Gaps in the clouds reveal the murky brown waters of the planet’s oceans and lakes. Vast patches of dark vegetation float like garbage on the waters of this bleak world. The planet looks to be as desolate as its solitary moon, and is a similar color.

  George and Joe successfully connect to the Gamin satellites and transfer their data to the Terran’s systems. Both men grin at their success, and then begin the lengthy task of sifting through the data.

  Cindy looks away from the forlorn view and sighs. After a moment’s silence she issues her orders, “Launch the Victory.” She turns to John and asks doubtfully, “You’re sure that Robyn can handle the patrol duty? It may last for months!”

  John nods, and replies confidently, “She has a crew of ten to assist her.” He shrugs and adds, “Besides, all they have to do is fly circles around the solar system while they scan for engine signatures.”

  Cindy reluctantly agrees, “You’re right, and if they find anything, they’re to hightail it back to us.”

  John tilts his head, and with a cheeky smile, says, “You know, I did offer to pilot that ship for you.”

  “I would rather have you handling the Terran, thank you very much.” Cindy responds frankly.

  Emma changes the subject when she relays the new data that appears on her console, “The planet’s atmosphere reads as mildly toxic, and shows trace elements of a corrosive agent. The gravity…”

  Cindy frowns as she interrupts Emma, “Did you say, corrosive agent?”

  Emma quickly replies, “Oh, it won’t be a problem, the levels are extremely low. But I wouldn’t want to go for a stroll, that’s for sure.” She then continues with her report, “The planet’s gravity is slightly greater than Earth’s, and it has close to a twenty-five hour day. I am reading no life forms, but it looks as though the planet’s eco system is slowly recovering.”

  Cindy sharply turns her head to Emma and states, “That’s something else we didn’t notice before!”

  “No, we didn’t,” Emma replies in agreement. She then adds confidently, “I’m getting better at using these systems, besides it looks as if the satellite feed is coming through.” She shrugs her shoulders and says, “I wouldn’t get too excited. It looks as if the planet’s recovery is only in its Polar Regions, and we didn’t examine those areas the last time we were here.”

  Robyn’s voice sounds out clear and loud from the bridge speakers, interrupting their discussion. “Victory calling Terran.”

  Cindy taps he chair’s console and replies, “Terran here.”

  Robyn’s voice fills the bridge once more. “We will commence our patrol duty as soon as you land.”

  Cindy smiles at Robyn’s confident tone, and replies, “Don’t forget to check in every twelve hours, and if you find anything unusual, get back here.”

  “Understood. Victory out.” Robyn replies.

  Robyn sighs as she cuts the transmission and stares around the small spacecraft. She has been over the mission brief dozens of times and expects this to be an extremely tedious duty. She glances at her crew, offers a forced smile, and then turns her attention to the forward view. Gazing at the distant stars causes her to relax. Secretly she feels honored by the responsibility she has been given, and the confidence that Cindy is showing in her. Switching her console to display the Terran, she watches keenly. The crew begins to crowd around her chair, so she switches the display to the main viewer, allowing everyone to watch.

  One of Robert’s reporters is Maggie, a slim young woman from New York. She has been assigned to document the Victory’s mission, and begins to record everything. She is extremely excited, and nervous, but goes about her task professionally.

  The Terran looks small as it floats like a dead hulk against the backdrop of the smoky gray planet. The ship has no external lighting, and would easily be missed, if not for the Victory’s powerful sensors. The only sign that it is functional at all is the occasional glow from its thrusters. The Terran’s main drive and sub-light engines are dark, like the rest of the ship. Maggie fancies that they could pass each other unseen, like two ships in the night on an open ocean. She makes a note of her observations and thoughts while she watches the viewer.

  Anticipation mounts on the Terran’s bridge as Cindy casts her gaze around at her crew. The earlier discussion is all but forgotten, for now. With conviction she states, “Well, let’s go and do what we came here for. John, take us down.”

  “Ye
s, ma’am,” John replies with a tinge of excitement. He taps on his console with confidence and grins as the Terran responds accordingly.

  The Terran quickly descends through the clouds as it flies toward the Gamin derelict. As soon as the ship breaks the cloud cover, the bridge crew immediately notices a series of old monorails. Some lead to a distant city, while others snake off into the distance. The city is as desolate looking as the rest of the planet. Many of its tall buildings have collapsed, and unlike the Oglan world, those that remain are not covered in lush vegetation. The Terran flies lower and lower as John expertly pilots the mighty ship toward the area where the monorails converge.

  Joe turns to John and states with admiration, “Great flying mate. I can see the derelict directly ahead.”

  Cindy leans forward with renewed excitement, this is what they came out here to do. The derelict Gamin spacecraft is as she remembers. It is easily as wide as the Terran is long, and nearly three times longer. Massive struts support much of the ship, right up to the section just in front of the command area. There is a massive area missing, as if it were vaporized. The nose of the ship rests just ahead of this void, and it is still intact. It points to the sky, propped up by a massive landing strut. While the Terran has two main engines, this behemoth has three. They form a triangle with one being below the other two.

  John flies them even lower, and swings around to the rear of the massive craft. He frowns, and then while pointing ahead states, “Uh, the ramp is open, but I can’t see the shields.”

  Cindy chews on her lower lip for a few moments, and then replies, “Stick to the plan. Land the Terran so that the open ramps face each other.”

  “Yes ma’am”, John replies.

  John skillfully turns the Terran, while at the same time, lowers the ship’s landing struts. The ship hovers so close to the ground that the dust beneath it dances and bounces in sync with the rhythmic humming from the gravity lift systems. The landing struts make contact, and then flex as they are designed to do under the ship’s weight. A flurry of dust rises up from beneath the ship, and promptly coats the underside in grey powder.