Alien Deception (40 page)

Schume reached into his pocket and felt for a quarter, found one and held it out. "Get lost."

The quarter disappeared from his fingers, then he felt the largest static electrical charge he ever imagined. When he opened his eyes, he looked up and down the alley, but saw no one.

When he returned to his office, he sat in his chair and knew as clear as rain what he needed to do next—check into the background of Greg Carlson and Sarah McClendon. And he did. He found many things that didn't sit right. Supposedly, the president hadn't known either of these two people until after he was elected, but Schume found photos that said something different. Sarah was frequently visible but this Greg… Nobody had seen or heard from him in about two years. It became obvious somebody was hiding something. Then came the anonymous tip about the location of the alien body.

He had made it to the location his tipster had indicated before anyone else and was able to photograph the body and make initial observations before police and other local agencies arrived. The figure was humanoid in shape, but there were many features that indicated it was not of terrestrial origin.

Now, he rummaged through his photos, studying them for anything that might be useful. The creature's skin was marked with spots around the neck and the ears were smaller than any human ears he had ever seen. The fingers were short, about half the length of his, and seemed to have three joints instead of two. He flipped through more photos, carefully looking for things he may have missed earlier.

These would have been worth a fortune if they had been substantiated by physical evidence, but unfortunately, that would not be possible any longer and that pissed him off. Schume could have made some big bucks selling his photos anonymously to several papers. He could still get some money, but only a fraction of what he could have gotten if the body was still intact.

Son of a bitch, that cost me a bundle.

His source had made all the right calls up to this point, so Schume was surprised he hadn't seen the bombing coming.

His laptop, plugged into the cigarette lighter, beeped to indicate he had incoming email. He set the pictures off to the side. Keying in his password, he accessed the message.

"The authorities will not be able to determine the explosive used. The reason why is obvious. It is not of this world. This alien invasion is trying to cover their tracks with the assistance of the human collaborators. Do not let them cover this up! Expose them for what they are! They have destroyed the proof for now, but there is more and I will help you find it. Together we will expose these traitors. And, at the same time, you will be the most famous reporter on the face of this planet. I will contact you later with more details. Do not discuss this with anyone else. Have transferred funds to your account to continue our battle. End Message."

There was no indication of who had sent the message or where it was sent from, just as it usually happened. Whoever his friend was, he had extensive IT background. However, Schume felt a resurgence of his earlier exaltation that things might be going his way again after this minor setback.

Ray Schume leaned back in his seat with a large smile on his face. " ‘The most famous reporter on the planet.' That sure has a nice sound to it."

He started to write down some notes. A press conference was sure to be in the future if things kept going this way and, somehow, he knew they would.

Chapter Twelve

“Out of the filth and the scum of the universe, comes the most motivated life and dangerous life forms…they have nothing else to live for. These are the tools by which great things can be accomplished.”

Copolla

Carnis sat alone in a room in a cheap hotel in the spaceport district on the planet Server Three. The room was empty except for a bed, a table, and the chair he occupied. A bottle of Corsican whiskey, half-empty, and a glass sat on the table. His right hand was clenched tightly around a second glass as he thought about returning to Acuba and the continuation of his plans.

He had found it necessary to come to this planet to arrange an event that required more secrecy than even Acuba could offer. There were still spies on Acuba who could lead to him being prematurely exposed. After this trip, things would be ready on Acuba to move ahead and secrecy would be maintained. Here on this member world of the UCDW, he would not be expected or watched for. No one would look for a dead man.

"Being dead is hard work." His shoulders shook with his high-pitched laughter as spittle ran from his lips and fell in droplets on the table and his clothing. "I have them all running crazy. They don't have a clue what's going to happen next or from what direction I will move. The fools."

He poured more of the Corsican liquid into his glass and drank it down quickly. He grimaced as it burned his throat, but quickly warmed to the sensation as it worked its way into his blood. He basked in its heat as he once more went over the details of his next move in a mind battered by surging waves of anger and a hunger for revenge. A knock at the door interrupted his enjoyment of his own cleverness.

"Come," he yelled.

A small, misshapen alien, a Cartorian, entered and slowly approached the table. The alien, Kartom, hesitated, obviously intimidated by the larger figure. His nose switched back and forth, his long whiskers probing the air for any sense of trouble. He grasped his short thin tail and held it close to him.

"I have arranged all as you requested," Kartom piped in a trembling voice. "But the price… Ah…negotiations became a…ah…problem."

"How so?"

Unseen in the shadow of his hood, the stranger scowled. Carnis had come to this world throwing large sums of money around to get what he wanted, as if he possessed a bottomless purse. That was necessary to attract the talent he required. The money was not what mattered, but the insolence of these lowlife alien scum attempting to trick him did bother him. It bothered him a great deal, but his irritation would end soon.

"They wanted another five hundred thousand credits for what they considered an extra risk. Murdering a life form involves additional danger. Murdering life forms who occupy roles of political importance attracts much more attention."

Carnis laughed. "And what did you tell them?"

"That you would pay it," Kartom said with obvious fear in his voice.

"That was a bold move on your part." Carnis sneered. After a few moments of silence, he continued. "But you are correct, I will pay it gladly for a well-performed job."

"The money…my money…will be deposited in the account I specified?" Kartom asked, trying to keep the quiver from his voice.

"It's already there. When will they attack the ship?"

"Soon. They are already tracking its trajectory."

"Wonderful," Carnis bellowed. "Just wonderful."

Kartom breathed a sigh of relief. "Then we have concluded our business?" the Cartorian asked, scurrying closer to the door.

"Just about. We must have a drink to conclude our arrangement." He gestured for Kartom to step closer to the table and poured a measure of the yellow liquid into the empty glass. Carnis picked it up and handed it to his guest, who accepted it with a trembling hand. He then filled his own glass and set the bottle back on the table with a thump.

"To a wonderful job," Carnis barked, then raised his glass to his lips.

Kartom sniffed the glass contents and said nothing as he waited until his host had drunk.

Carnis drained his glass and dropped it on the table. Kartom did the same, then quickly placed the glass on the table.

"If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave of you."

"As you wish," Carnis said, and waved his arm in dismissal.

Kartom left without looking back, his little feet shuffling quickly down the corridor. Carnis sat in silence and stared at the tumbler Kartom had used in their toast. It was slowly collapsing as the acid implanted in the matrix of the glass, released by the warmth of the alien's hand, dissolved it, as it was no doubt doing to the stomach of the misshapen alien.

"I hate to drink alone, but we can't have any loose ends," he said as he poured the remainder of the whiskey into his glass and drank deeply. A scream sounded from the street below and he started to laugh.

* * * *

The Arcturian spacecraft came out of hyperdrive and slowed to space-normal in the outlying reaches of the Earth's solar system. The ship contained Arcturia's two ambassadors, a pilot and navigator. The Arcturians were an affable race and it was reflected both in their actions and appearance. Physically, they were virtually identical to each other, most closely resembling Earth's pandas. On the outside, their thinking and movements appeared slow, but they were very prompt in their actions when they needed to be.

The ship was a standard ambassadorial vessel with minimum weaponry, but with the stealth mechanisms for entering and departing Earth's atmosphere without detection. The ambassadors were returning from their home world ahead of schedule in order to resume their duties with the Council because of the incident of the dead agent's body in the great hall. The call for information had gone out for any reports of suspicious activity in their own sectors of space that possibly might be related.

The pilot informed the ambassador when they were less than one standard hour away from Earth.

"Do you think this information means anything?" Ambassador Krolugue asked.

"Possibly," his fellow ambassador, Calo, responded. "It definitely should be followed up. The agent who reported the events is a reliable one and I see no reason to dispute it. Someone or something is maneuvering into a position of power and utilizing some of the worse scum in the galaxy to do it."

"To what end?" wondered Krolugue.

"That's what needs to be further investigated," Calo said. "To try and determine what the ultimate purpose is behind these incidents."

Krolugue read through the report again.

"Someone is assembling the best criminal talent under a retainer system of some sort. It's as if the intent is to have access to a broad spectrum of expertise. In addition, there are indications of disappearances of individuals rumored to have accomplished assignments of a very discreet nature. The most damning insinuation, however, was that the UCDW was, or would be, the target of some of these assignments." Krolugue looked from the piece of paper. "Will you report these findings to the Council?"

"Yes, immediately on our arrival. An investigation team needs to be assembled to take a closer look at these allegations. They could be related to what is happening."

"Why didn't we bring the agent along with us to personally explain what he thinks is going on?"

"Because he was killed shortly after transmitting the report," Calo snapped. "I still don't understand how he was discovered. He was a deep-planted agent with impeccable false credentials. Either this person or group has excellent intelligence or…" Calo paused.

"Or?" Krolugue asked, not liking the look on his colleague's face.

"Or we have a traitor in the UCDW," Calo sighed.

The ship suddenly lurched to one side, throwing the ambassadors from their seats. As they tried to stand they were thrown to the opposite side.

"What's going on?" Krolugue shouted into his communication device.

"Under attack," the pilot reported. "Trying to evade now!"

Another shudder shook the craft.

"Unknown craft! No markings! Refuses to answer our hail," the pilot shouted.

"Call for help," Calo ordered. "Call the Council!"

"Local communication channels jammed!"

"Krolugue, transmit the data to Leumas on the encrypted channel," Calo commanded.

"But it takes hours…" Krolugue stared at Calo, the realization of what was going to happen to them on his face

"Do it now!" Calo screamed.

Krolugue fumbled as he tried to place the transmission crystal into the slot of the transmitter while the ship shook violently. Finally, he managed to insert the crystal, key up Leumas’s code and press send. He smiled. "At least it's on its way to—"

The Arcturian ship exploded from a direct hit and disintegrated into space debris and tiny particles. The attacking pirate ship immediately turned and fled. Moments later, as they activated their hyperdrive, their ship, too, exploded.

Chapter Thirteen

“In life, there can be difficult and unfair choices to be made but nevertheless, they must be made, even at the cost of one you love.”

Sarah McClendon

"What's going on, Greg?" Sarah asked as she walked up behind him where he stood looking out the window. They had taken a break from their meeting after discussing the note and not really getting anywhere with it. Sarah thought this might be the only chance to talk with him for a while.

"You're acting like you're somewhere else," she continued. "And your health is suffering. You have sleep deprivation written all over your face and your weight looks like it’s dropping too. When was the last time you ate a normal meal?"

"I'm just tired," he said, not taking his gaze from the window. "I haven't been sleeping—"

"Come on, Greg, it's me, Sarah. You can't lie and you're starting to scare me. Talk to me. I know you've broken our connection. I feel so empty and alone."

He remained silent, still looking out the window.

"Greg, will you please talk to me?" Sarah asked raising her voice.

He turned toward her, but only to look to where Leumas and Edward sat at the conference table. They were still discussing the note and apparently had not heard Sarah's exclamation. He warned her to be quiet by placing his finger to his lips, then motioned her into the kitchen. She followed him, though she found it odd he would want to hide anything from the others.

"I don't want them to hear any of this," he said. "I don't want to worry them. They have enough on their plates already."