Authors: Gordon Mackay
An Alien Rescue
An Alien Rescue
©
By
Gordon Mackay
Also by Gordon Mackay
,
the
prequel to An Alien Rescue,
An Alien Affair
previously published 2004
by
PUBLISHAMERICA
re-edited
& second printing 2012
Text copyright
© 2012 Gordon Mackay
All rights reserved
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Edited by Gordon Mackay
Gordon Mackay has ascertained his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This electronic book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form other than that which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
© 2012 by Gordon Mackay. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.
First printing
2012
For
my partner, Phyllis, who has already travelled to another world with me, and also to my lovely surviving daughter, Jenny, who carries my genes into Earth's questionable future.
It was a sea-fresh breeze that drifted over the storm sharpened cliffs on the Scottish Isle of Skye's rugged west coast. Its rippling effects shown by the bending of grass blades as it steadily worked its way across a gentle slope towards a small tent before climbing much steeper contours beyond. Sleeping within the tent lay a man named, Scott, who had just survived the greatest journey and experience of his life. An advanced extraterrestrial Galactic spaceship had been destroyed by his efforts and ingenuity not so long before and he would not be able to remember anything about it for quite some time - if ever. He was mentally exhausted by his previous exploits, where nothing less than a nuclear explosion would cause him to stir. The knowledge of his recent experiences were firmly buried within his deep subconscious and there it would remain, until it was either needed by others or it simply resurrected itself by chance.
He was about six feet tall with broad shoulders and a slim build, all combining to give him a sporty and youthful appearance. He had no excess weight and stood straight and tall with a firmness in his stride and composure. His face
, and bodily shape was found attractive to the opposite gender, especially his slightly pointed nose. His eyebrows were blonde, a remnant from his youth, with a full head of hair a lighter shade of brown. His eyes were a bright blue that never flinched or flickered beneath his firmly closed eyelids as he slept inside his partially open sleeping bag; indicating the depth of his slumber.
His bagged person was surrounded by an untidy mix of scattered clothing and personal belongings, giving the tent’s internal space an appearance of complete pandemonium and utter disarray
; almost as if some wild foraging animal had been let loose within its confines. The tent’s partially unzipped door flapped gently to and fro, helping to lull Scott with its gentle drumming and most soothing repetition. Swiftly soaring gulls called from above as they passed overhead, screeching their own hideous language as they swooped across the untainted light-blue sky.
He had been hurriedly repositioned back into the tent just as the first rays of daylight had
threatened to rise above the not so distant mountainous horizon. Those who had placed him back into the tent were a woman and her male companion. Her name was, Frell, a blue-eyed and attractive six-foot tall blonde with shoulder length hair and a figure to die for. She also had an outstanding level of intelligence.
Her companion was called, Drang, who resembled
an olive-skinned Mediterranean-looking type of character with swept-back glossy black hair that showed more than obvious signs of turning grey while receding.
They had only just managed to return Scott to his
canvas home under cover of darkness, hurriedly working together like a well-rehearsed military team in silence. Frell was in overall charge of the mission and Drang was her pilot. An incandescent badge on his clothing advertised the fact, to those who understood, he belonged to a highly trained group who were called, Co-ordinators, a most prodigious and select group who were trained to operate spacecraft.
As Scott had been hurriedly positioned back into his tent, they knew they had to leave soonest... or risk everything
of value. Scott’s security would be in grave danger if the event was witnessed.
Frell’s ship was currently situated in a geostationary orbit
, a great many miles directly above the ancient and rocky island, observing the tent through optical and thermal sensors. The previous forty-eight hours had been an extraordinary ordeal for the three of them, with the threat of death and mutilation only just survived. She patiently observed the transparent image of the tent, noticing the internal temperature was steadily rising as the day's level of sunlight strengthened over the horizon while long shadows quickly shortened. Scott was also warming in consequence as his tired and aching body began to stir. She watched his impression, for want of a better description, because that is how it appeared on an overhead monitor. Her memory recalled their recent exploits; oh, how she loved the man who lay those many miles directly below. If only she could return, to be by his side and steal another kiss, a hug, or just a warm smile. Anything at all. Her thoughts were running wild as she recalled the momentous passion that had happened between them, knowing it would be at least another two years before she might feel his strong arms around her once again. Her unsuspecting lover was sound asleep inside his little portable home while his crude fossil-fuelled motorcycle stood close-by waiting for its loving and caring master to kick-start it back into a roaring beast. The sharp image of the campsite also indicated two animals close by, just a few metres distant from the tent.
There had been two grazing sheep whe
n the ship had returned under cover of darkness before instantly illuminating the site in a spectacularly blinding fashion, suspending itself almost directly above them. The unfortunate mother ewe had sprinted towards the field’s perimeter fence in a valiant but foolish attempt to escape the ship’s sudden appearance. Going from pitch darkness to the brightest of light in an instant caused both animals to run for their lives, crashing head-first into the dangerously thin and invisible wire fence. The ewe died instantly from shock as its woolly-body bounced off the tensioned wire as if fired from a catapult. Its fleece-coated lamb remained steadfastly by its dead mother, nestling into her still warm but cooling belly. It had anxiously watched the ordeal of moving Scott back inside his tent. Fearful for its life, the lamb wanted to bolt… but couldn’t find the courage. It felt safe while its mother remained, pressing into her for parental protection, mistaking her benign silence and stillness as a sure sign of safety.
The returning operation had been one of speed and utmost secrecy, to move Scott back within the shelter without being spotted by either local inhabitants or seasonal holidaymakers. Being seen wasn’t so much of a disaster as many sceptics would simply ridicule the suggestions or reports of anyone seeing a flying saucer by stating it was a drifting weather balloon, low-flying aircraft or plain and simple hysteria. Frell couldn’t help but smile at the silliness
of the excuses. She straightened again, standing upright and erect as she reflected upon their previous night’s ordeal, sweeping her hair backwards and away from her eyes with one hand. If anyone
had
seen Scott being placed back into his tent by supposed extraterrestrials that would be something quite different. Unwanted media attention might be the result of any reports and his personal safety would more than likely be compromised. The knowledge of someone being dropped-off by a passing UFO at that precise time and place would also attract the attention of the
Grey Empire
, whose ship and crew had just been destroyed by this most unsophisticated but courageous human man in an unrestrained pitched bloody battle. With any detailed report broadcast or printed about him, a man who had been supposedly abducted and returned to Earth, his safety would certainly be in doubt. In addition to that, if his blood had been tested, as it undoubtedly would be, the surprise of discovering artificial energy-releasing additives would quite soon give lead to confirmed speculation that he had indeed been taken and returned by persons or aliens unknown. There was still a slight chance that Scott’s exact whereabouts might already be known to the
Grey Empire
, all dependent upon whether any amount of information had been transmitted back to any of their bases prior to the destruction of the ship and its servile crew. She hoped there had been no such communication, or, if otherwise, Scott might be in for a very tricky and possibly dangerous time ahead. His safety was now her personal concern, especially as he was the father of her daughter and that of another yet to be born. She would need to keep a very special watch on his life and surroundings.
She considered it had been prudent to install a surveillance device on the outskirts of
the village where he lives, as close as possible to his residence on Earth. It was a common point of communication and information pickup, to where the biological transponder unit within his head could connect to periodically. This would help reduce any chance the Greys would have of locating her lover. Its installation had to be covert as the human authorities and Greys must never be aware of its presence. She knew the Greys were the greatest danger now as they would take great delight in annihilating Scott in reprisal for his successful attack on their ship; an event which would never be forgotten or forgiven in time immemorial. Filled with these thoughts of great concern, she continued to observe him within the tent, more anxiously now; even though the day so-far had shown no unusual occurrences with regard to any out-of-the-ordinary levels of communications from this little part of the world, and no other humans were to be seen anywhere near Scott’s campsite.
He eventually
awakened, opening his eyes to be shocked and mystified by the mess inside the tent. Getting dressed before forcing himself over to the partially open door, he slowly emerged, wondering what had happened to cause it. He briefly hesitated by the doorway, gently rubbing his bleary eyes, taking a little more time to move forward. He spotted his all-important torch lying on the open ground, just outside the tent's entrance. Picking it up, he got wet from trapped rainwater. Switching it on to test it, his face was illuminated with the sudden flash of its light, forcing him to instinctively throw it down. Observing it bounce on the grass by his feet he wondered why he had done it, and how the hell did it get outside in the first place? He was confused.
He stretched before rubbing his eyes, then felt around his head for the source of pain he could feel. There was a small
lump, sensitive to his touch. With a sigh he wondered how he'd managed to bump his head, before recalling he'd been scrambling around the cliffs the previous day, which was probably the reason.
Had she forgotten something?
Frell wondered as she looked on from afar.
Was there some indication or item of evidence left by mistake? The unique metallic blue suit he had worn was removed, with the small capsule of lunar dust presented to him carefully hidden in one of the white motorcycle panniers. There was nothing missed that she knew of. Perhaps,
she reconsidered;
he was simply awakening from a deep sleep and enjoying the marvellous view around him. Alternatively, perhaps he had seen the nearby carcass and its lamb.
Whatever it was, he didn’t hesitate for long as he began to move around the site, purposefully getting himself organised for his bright new day.
Scott looked eagerly at his surroundings, eyeballing the tent’s desolate and impossible to see site from the track way-up high on
the ledge of an overlooking hill. He recalled the cliff’s edge was only a few dangerous metres away, turning to face its general direction, enjoying the surrounding views. He made a makeshift breakfast before heading for the path to the beach he'd located the previous day. His plan was to search for fossils before bathing in the sea.
While on his way, he
spotted the dead sheep and its hesitant offspring lying nearby. He wondered how the animal had died and felt sorry for its orphaned youngster. After touching the carcass, feeling it's warmth, he chose to ignore the scene. He hoped the lamb would eventually make its way back to the rest of the flock without his assistance.
What followed was a general exploration of his immediate area, but discovered nothing worth shouting about, so decided to wash before returning to his campsite.
But the wash proved to be confusing to him. There had been numerous blonde hairs sticking to his body, including some that looked pubic by their very nature. He felt there was something vitally important about those strands but couldn't work out why. He supposed someone else had used his sleeping bag at some time and it was the only explanation that made any sense to him.
Returning to his tent, h
e ate and drank heartily before retiring later in the evening, feeling tired from his days exploits, eventually collapsing into his sleeping bag.
The following day began with Scott rising and
reappearing from the tent, his movements were quicker and more energetic than his previous day's efforts.
A small coach arrived at the entrance to the rough and tumble track that
eventually led to the upper-slopes above where Scott was camped, just a few miles from where he lay. It had disgorged a group of students in slow succession, all dispersing wildly in every conceivable direction. They fanned out like a painfully-slow bomb burst, staggering around at a snail's pace. They represented little danger to Scott, Frell considered, especially as he had already begun to get himself organised and his camping kit together.
Scott noticed similar
high and forbidding cliffs on the other side of the bay, all part of the same volcanic geology upon which he stood, where about three-hundred and fifty million years before the area would have been a series of large volcanic eruptions.
Attracted by the roar of
continuously crashing waves, he climbed the fence not so close to where the dead animal lay, its lamb had finally gone. Scott inched closer to the cliff’s edge than he should have in order to catch sight of the waves, careful not to trip and fall forward. Turning slightly to his left he spotted the same wreck of a ship he had explored when he first arrived, noticing additional parts he had not previously seen. The tide seemed to be out as far as it might go and additional lumps of the hull’s wreckage lay in scattered and corroded lumps. A heavy boiler stood proudly against relentless and successive energetic waves. The sight of a frothing sea encircling the wreck's discarded pieces with the repeated roar of crashing waves appeared to drive Scott into a trance-like state of mind. He dropped to his knees before imagining an almost impossible rise in the sea’s level. The fog-clearing vision that presented itself was one of surprise and confusion, a feeling he was experiencing an out of body occurrence. The sea level seemed to be much, much higher than previously, having risen quite a number of metres since he last looked. His thoughts seemed to glide while his body began to sway, almost as if he was fighting to stay upright against a strong and powerful gale.