Abductees

by Alan Brickett

  Instinct fed into thought, and his planning formed quickly from there. Even as the aliens were storming the docking platform of the refinery, he was bringing up a series of options and ordering Marc and Meriam to go ahead of him and among the refinery tanks.

  I always did have a practical approach, to get something done break it into steps. Should it be strange how surviving a firefight and retrieving something should be just as easy to understand in steps and the rest of the detail just slips into place?

  It does keep everyone worrying about the possibilities, which is why it works when building something.

  It briefly went through his mind that he was very quickly taking the lead and being bossy, but he also knew that indecisiveness wasn’t good for anything. Marc and Meriam reacted fast enough—their athletic physiques weren’t just for show—and they managed to sprint into the ranks of waiting metal cylinders.

  The aliens that were armed and had come in first started to fire their weapons. Connor hoped they were going for some kind of incapacitation, but he wasn’t going to bet on it. His display blurred through icons as he ran behind the other two.

  From his focus and the selections, with a sheer amount of mental desire to protect them, he managed to produce a wide energy field behind himself.

  It wasn’t a shimmering field, and for some reason, it didn’t feel quite the same as the fields that came up the last time he was shot, back in the park.

  But it was effective.

  The violet screen spread in a concave half-sphere to protect all three of them. The bolts of sizzling energy fired from the alien weapons impacted harmlessly, not taxing the protective field in the slightest.

  Just as he got in behind Marc and Meriam, he finished his quick message to Ormond and took a second to review the situation.

  On the bottom right of his display, he saw the warning flashing for “Gravitonics Detected,” but he dismissed it quickly.

  Now was not the time to get a headache from that amount of information.

  Their opponents were momentarily out of sight behind the sizeable protective field Connor had created and the stationary tanks on either side of the three of them—at least until they got in among the rows of containers on their rails.

  So, the first priority was where to get the team together next.

  “Marc, merge Meriam’s data with yours, build us a map of the place and where everyone is, give us all access, and mark who we are compared to the rest.”

  “Uh, sure thing. One mini-map coming up.” Marc got busy, his eyes flickering and his fingers working on the displays embedded in the forearm equipment he had been given.

  “Meriam—” Connor started to say, but she broke in.

  “Already updating the scans of the aliens and us. I’ve got quite a range. I can also identify Ormond and Lekiso three levels above us in the room with the Lanillan and the specimen. I’ll tag the specimen so that my system tracks it.”

  Should have done that earlier, not as slick on the tactics as I thought I was.

  Not yet.

  “Thank you.” He got a quick smile for that.

  “Uh, hey, not all of these guys are armed. But there sure are a lot of them,” Marc said, distracted with his work.

  “Maybe not armed with these energy weapons, bud, but they can still whack you with a pipe or something.”

  “Uh, oh, yeah, right.”

  Marc flinched as his singlesuit shield flared into coruscating cyan flashes.

  Meriam’s and Connor’s also went off at the same time. One of the Lanillans had come around the refinery loading tanks three sets up and was firing at them with some kind of weapon that sprayed plasma out like a shotgun.

  According to his display, Connor’s local shield, like Meriam’s, had taken minor hits, but Marc’s had taken the most. He’d probably only get half a dozen or so of hits like that before the suit’s protective field failed.

  They would be prepared, considering how badly they want our gear.

  Before Connor had to say anything, Meriam had the small gun up from her hip in a two-handed grip and pointed right at the Lanillan.

  She fired three consecutive shots set on stun, with good clustering in the middle of the alien’s chest. The energy from the weapon discharged to swamp the yellow skin, and the Lanillan dropped like a stone.

  Marc turned to look incredulously at Meriam, who looked back over her shoulder at Connor, her arms still extended and her gun ready.

  That. That was hot.

  “Okay then,” he mumbled and then shook himself.

  “Marc, are you done?”

  “Uh, yeah, yeah, I think that’s it.” Connor’s display updated with the data sent from Marc.

  Coupled with the data from Meriam, it made a three-dimensional map for all of them and marked everyone, or everything, living inside it.

  Connor said to Meriam, “Watch our backs.”

  Then he caught up on Ormond and Lekiso.

  On the display, the yellow dot for the Lanillan left the room and made for the end of the corridor on that floor, carrying the orange dot for the Devourer specimen.

  On this level, Connor could see the yellow dots, joined by crimson dots for the Jascalians, clustering around both sides of the humans around the refinery tanks. They were moving up like a pincer. The ones at the platform behind them had stopped trying to shoot through the protective field he had set up.

  Briefly, he wondered why that one was different, but it was a question for later.

  While Meriam fired a few more quick shots down their row of tanks, Connor said, “Marc, send out a call for help. We’ll need to have the Domums involved.”

  Marc gave an affirmative in his usual way, and Connor considered where they would go next.

  The aliens were wary of coming down Meriam’s line of sight, but that would only last so long, and other readings were moving through the building to take on Ormond and Lekiso, so the best thing would be to narrow the available space.

  The door closest to the corridors they would need was just on the other side of the second row of refinery tanks.

  From Marc’s scans, there was a gap between several tanks in that row that the three humans could get through without trouble. But between that gap and them were the bumper-to-bumper heavy tanks now protecting their flanks.

  Lovely.

  OK, Connor thought, reviewing the display information on his equipment.

  So, aside from shields, these things are supposed to have enhanced our strength and our speed, right? At least, that’s what the software says.

  Pulling up the display, Connor checked. According to what the system could do, his output was practically limited only by the power he would put into it.

  So, theoretically, he could put out a massive burst and then recover the energy again, he hoped.

  “OK, we are going to move,” he told the other two.

  Meriam spoke without turning, out loud and over the private com he was using: “How?”

  “Follow me into the far door as soon as I’ve made a distraction and a gap for us,” he said while placing his hands under the lip of the refinery tank base nearest to him.

  Marc just stared. “Uh, are you serious? You are really going to try and move that thing?”

  Connor didn’t reply.

  Meriam was already firing again, and he didn’t have the time. He focused on the singlesuit systems and allocated the software to the strength output.

  Then he heaved.

  Very little happened.

  His shoulders strained, his knees bent, and his body took up the weight, but aside from the effort, the tank itself didn’t even budge.

  What is wrong with this thing?

  Connor could feel the sweat break out as he tried another heave. The software was reading as active and funneling the energy with all kinds of other readings, but he didn’t feel as if any extra strength was coming from the singlesuit.

  The tank wasn’t budging, and more shimmers from the three of them i
ndicated they were getting a few potshots from the aliens daring to take Meriam’s aim and reaction time.

  Very soon, they would try and storm the three of them, and according to Connor’s readings, the protective field he had put up to protect their backs was now fading. With the pressure of the situation building, Connor was startled to have his display show a single word, right in the center.

  “Concentrate.”

  It might have been some kind of direct communication from their abductors or just a friendlier algorithm of the software that interfaced his equipment.

  Whatever it was goaded Connor like nothing else. The big man closed his eyes, the display shining violet light on the black inside of his eyelids, the word floating there in front of him the only thing he focused on.

  Then he heaved for the third time.

  The other four humans were all too busy to notice that each of them read: “Gravitonics Detected” on their systems.

  Connor didn’t see because, with his body lined in violet light that cascaded down across him in a shimmering fall like water, the tank moved.

  Lanillans and Jascalians alike jumped backward with a start when the massive metal refinery tank that they had been moving next to shifted and rose up. Tilting on one rail, the huge construct angled up over them.

  They ran, most of them back towards the platform since the gunfight was ahead of them.

  The tank rose quickly, pivoted at an angle, and then ponderously began to fall. A glow, purple to the general human spectrum, shone from behind the tank, throwing shadows all around.

  The noise was deafening, the sound of metal striking metal like a gigantic gong that swept over Connor in his brief moment of vertigo. The effort had been phenomenal, but he had done it!

  The tank was flipped, and at an angle to drive the aliens to the side, block them off, and give the humans a gap to make a run for it.

  Three figures sprinted across the now-vacant rails, over the floor, and between the tanks on the next row of rails. Marc quickly hacked the door before they got there.

  Letting Meriam in first, he followed, with Connor bringing up the rear.

  I wonder how heavy that thing was.

  Connor stumbled a bit at the readout in his display.

  * *

  Lekiso felt the building shudder.

  Her display seamlessly blended with the weapon sights, and she made a small motion to bring the weapon to bear on the Lanillan who had popped out from a side corridor and stunned him.

  She had followed Ormond from the room with the trap, and the two of them were already taking fire a turn down the corridor later.

  The aliens didn’t seem to be very well armed so far. Their weapons were all carried by hand and emitted a degree of energy that matched the hand weapons that had been fired at them in the park.

  They relied on their force field trap to hold us and concentrated their firepower on the other three.

  So far, she had taken a few hits, and her display reported her shield had been able to cope with and recover quickly from each one.

  What an amazing technology, she thought, to be able to protect one so well.

  Without it, the two of them would never have gone charging ahead into the unknown metal maze.

  Well, she wouldn’t have.

  Ormond seemed to be able to react with lightning agility, and with a little more information, he might have been able to evade everything anyway.

  The European was very skilled.

  She could see how he moved and swayed with training driven home to instinct.

  Her display registered a Jascalian behind a door on the right. Ormond sidled up to it, put his back to the wall, and then issued the open command remotely from his singlesuit. The surprised alien barely had a chance to open its eyes wide before Ormond’s’ knee came up under its chin, lifting the shorter mammalian from the floor and sending it flying backward.

  Ormond fired a stun bolt into it for good measure, and the two continued, the map on their display showing another five aliens lining the corridor after the next turn. The yellow dot with the Devourer marker paired to it was moving away rapidly beyond the next ambush.

  “Seems like Connor got them out of the docking room,” Ormond commented casually.

  “He sure did. Do you think we can all do that?” Lekiso replied.

  “I dunno, but this gear is the real deal.” He flattened to the wall just before the corridor with their alien markers.

  “Connor, you there, mate?” Ormond asked over the wider channel.

  The reply was soft as if Connor thought he should be whispering even though it was only in their heads.

  “Yeah, we’re in the corridors. I can see you two and a lot of them being sent your way. Your systems show you’re doing fine, though?”

  “We are,” Lekiso answered, stopping just before Ormond and the turn.

  “Good. Let me know if you run into anything serious, but otherwise, keep going. You’re driving that Lanillan down towards us, and so far, they haven’t worked that out yet.”

  “Great, mate, will do.” Ormond looked at Lekiso and gave her the go-ahead nod.

  She moved quickly past him to fall against the far side of the corridor.

  With Ormond a short swing behind, they both brought themselves facing the length of it and the five aliens. The brief firefight that ensued registered as negligible on their singlesuit protective fields and had all five of their opponents stunned on the floor.

  * *

  Marc was getting to be good with the software and equipment.

  Between subconscious memory education and the practical use, it was becoming more comfortable and easier to allocate and work with the options. His mind, always adept with variables and numbers, had quickly managed to work out ways to use the software to make the three-dimensional map and allocate other information.

  He liked the coloring of the biologicals too, although no one had commented on that yet.

  It was his mind that had him do gambling, making it quite profitable and an excellent way to earn money so long as he didn’t overdo it. He wasn’t interested in high stakes and only needed enough money to survive.

  The online games were best, with the limit on the pot and no one that he had to physically interact with. Well, not in person anyway. Video chat was one thing, but this he was in now, that was quite another.

  Connor was bludgeoning a Lanillan down with what Marc thought looked like some impressive fighting skills.

  The big man was tired; after he had awesomely thrown the huge metal tank aside, Marc had seen him tire with fatigue. But still, he carried on with a grim determination, pushing Marc and Meriam on down the hall until Marc made sure the door was locked and encrypted behind them.

  Then, with Meriam, he had moved ahead of Marc to handle any alien they detected coming up the side corridors or in rooms on their way. With the advantage of surprise lost to them as they were discovered by Meriam and highlighted to both shooters, the aliens were going down quickly—the tall man and woman were devastating.

  Now the three of them were heading for the big hall one more corridor over—the Lanillan with the Devourer specimen was headed there. Marc watched Meriam straight kick a Jascalian so hard that the alien doubled over; they still had to breathe even if they were alien.

  A quick shot from her pistol and it was stunned unconscious from neural overload.

  “Ormond, Lekiso, that’s great. Keep it up. Watch out behind you; there’s a group gathering that way trying to get to your flank,” Connor instructed.

  “We see them,” Lekiso replied distantly.

  Marc broke in quickly with his newest scans.

  “Uh, that big hall he is going to seems to have been some kind of processing area where the ground-up rock would come in to be chemically sifted. Look out for lots of pipes, and I mean big ones.”

  Meriam and Connor went backs to the wall on either side of the next door.

  Marc started to invade the software for the door to u
nlock it. It was sort of weird how many of the doors had significant encryption while others didn’t. Perhaps it had something to do with the effort involved with locking and unlocking them if you had to do it with a portable tablet or computing device.

  So far, Marc hadn’t detected any of the aliens going wireless.

  But the network around here must be something similar.

  Oh.

  Marc realized that the aliens were all aware of his subversion of the station systems. Since they could do it, and ahd done it, it was better to stay disconnected or he could wreak havoc on their gear.

  Not that he thought to look he could see they were making their own attempts to get into the Human’s systems.

  And failing miserable the poor lot.

  Connor spoke while Marc worked: “Meriam, can you see if those pipes have anything in them? I’d like to avoid surprises or a stray shot setting something off.”

  “I’ll check now. Marc, don’t open the door till I’m done.”

  “Uh, sure.”

  A loud bang on the door at the far end of the corridor they had come from echoed through the metal-lined space.

  He saw the concerned look on Connor’s face.

  This time, he could be the comforting one.

  “Uh, the door is locked, and it’s tough, plus I can monitor it from here. They don’t have anything that can hack it, at least nothing they have tried so far. My encryption won’t even let them connect. And the doors are all originally from the Domum construction, designed to withstand deep-space vacuum and a variety of other safety hazards. It will take a lot for them to get through it, and my system is scanning for any weapons or explosives signatures that could do it, so we’ll get an alert.”

  “Oh, hey, well done, Marc. That’s great work.”

  Connor seemed genuinely pleased at Marc’s innovative thinking and initiative.

  It was mildly embarrassing but did kinda make him feel good too.

  Which was weird: he’d never really gotten along with people easily, and aside from Ormond being a pain, he had trouble with the women. Women always made him nervous.

  But he thought that he did like Connor.