An Alien Rescue (11 page)

Scott stirred, slowly opening his eyes. He fully expected to see the inside of his tent with the usual sound of gently flapping walls tapping on his eardrums. What he saw took him a lengthy moment to fully comprehend, his eyes squinting as he tried to come to terms with it. His head still ached from the wine and his mind was confused. He felt as if he was at sea, his body told him he was stationary but his world was slightly heaving. With opened eyes he studied the walls, the closed door and strangest looking furniture. There was a blanket with the most awful colours and design laying over him too, enough to make him look away.
This blanket’s enough to make me puke
, he thought, wishing the thought had never entered his mind. Lifting the blanket’s edge, he noticed with surprise he had nothing on. “Bloody hell,” he said loudly. He remembered climbing into his sleeping bag before having the strangest dream ever, but this was really weird. Either he was still dreaming or everything he dreamt actually happened. “Holy shit!” he cursed with an oath. His mouth tasted awful and his breath, he reckoned, would be just as bad.

“Where the hell am I?” he pleaded, hoping someone within earshot would answer with some kind of rationale explanation. With no voices heard, nor any other sounds apart from his own, he sat upright while closely examining his strange surroundings. He recalled the two women dressed in blue, and how attractive he found them. His thoughts turned to his fantasy woman
called Frell, the goddess from his dreams and the explanation given to him by Belinda. The humour from his introduction to Phyllis returned and he couldn’t help smiling at the thought of bells on his other leg. He released a little laugh before pulling his thoughts together again. “What the hell is this place? I can’t really be on a spaceship… can I?” He leaned back and rapped the wall with the back of a fist. The wall sounded solid and certainly gave the impression of being made of metal. His knuckles hurt enough to let him know he’d thumped it a bit too hard for his own good. His senses might still be asleep, he thought looking at his throbbing fingers, except those associated with pain. He more or less expected to find he was still asleep and everything that had happened had been nothing more than a crazy dream. Stretching his fingers and flexing his wrist to try and reduce the amount of hurt he was feeling, he hoped he
was
asleep and it was his imagination working overtime and nothing else.

The room’s door glided open. If he hadn’t been facing its general direction he might not have known a slim figure was entering the room. He gazed at the woman standing before him, recognising Belinda.

With a deep sigh while looking to his bare feet, he asked, “Is this a dream?”

Belinda felt his anxiety and confusion, wishing she could give him a comforting hug to help reassure him.

“Hello Scott, did you sleep well?” Without waiting for a reply, she added, “I expect you’re wondering where you are and why you are here. It’ll all come back to you in a moment, any confusion will clear itself. Would you like another drink?”

Scott swallowed the saliva in his throat, tasting the bitterness from unbrushed, furry-feeling teeth and stale wine.

“I could murder a cup of tea,” he replied.

Belinda’s expression changed dramatically. She’d never heard anything like it. A cup of tea doesn’t live, it’s a non-entity, just a drink; it cannot be killed, never mind murdered! Is there something wrong with Scott’s mind, she wondered? Has everything that’s happened affected his brain, making his mind suffer from an internal fault? She considered his reply and found it impossible to comment on.

Scott remembered saying exactly the same to Frell when she too asked if she could get him a drink. She gave him the same face of despair that Belinda now sported.

He let out another laugh, saying, “I’m sorry, it’s another way of saying I would love a cup of tea. I really could murd… Erm, I really could do with a cuppa. A nice cup of
rosy-lee if you please.”

Belinda paused, wondering if there might be another statement concerning the need for a cup of tea. With nothing else forthcoming, she asked. “Does that mean … you
would
like a cup of tea?”

He couldn’t help releasing a beaming smile; knowing he’d confused her with his silly talk.

“Yes, please, with a little milk and no sugar.”

“I’ve never made a drink called tea before, and never tasted one either. I’ll check the dispenser to see if it’s included.” As she turned and stepped to the rear of the cabin, Scott noticed how trim a figure she had, almost hourglass-shaped with a pert bottom.

Scott felt he should tell her that Frell had made him tea from the same type of unit and it was very good, but decided to wait to see if she could provide one.

Patricia had been informed that Scott was fully recovered and would soon be leaving the ship to meet her. It had been explained to him that he was to meet only one other person while on the Mothership and it would be the ship’s Commander. He did not know it was a woman who waited to greet him, half expecting to be greeted by an aging bearded captain in some kind of uniform with masses of
brass-braid and multi-coloured medal ribbons spread across his hat and chest. He felt a little intimidated at the thought. He almost prayed the name wouldn’t be Ahab or Bligh.
Nemo
, he thought, that name he could handle.

The ship was berthed and its umbilical connection was connected and working. He had been given a new pair of coveralls to wear, sparing him any embarrassment. He tiptoed across the hangar, feeling his feet grip the floor unnaturally. It was as if there was a magnetic attraction between his shoes and the ship, which indeed there was. Scott was ushered into an interview room where the commander sat on the opposite side of a window. He wondered if the glass was there to protect
him
or the observer as he saw her lick her lips.

Patricia noticed Scott entering the room, led and shown to his seat by Belinda. Phyllis was already
being debriefed in another part of the ship, with the record of her experiences since leaving to collect Scott.

Belinda introduced her commander, as he carefully eyed her through the glass.

“Welcome back to the Mothership, Scott. I understand you’ve been here before, although you’re probably unaware of it.”

It crossed his mind she might not know he could recall the past events, or perhaps she was testing him. “I’m not sure,” he carefully replied.

Patricia considered his answer and accepted he had been through quite an ordeal during the past few hours. She expected he was still tired and probably felt bewildered after being presented with all he’d seen and experienced so far. She had no time to waste so began to ask him the pertinent questions she needed answers to. “Do you know why you are here?”

Scott recalled Belinda mentioning there wasn’t a lot of time, so decided to answer all her questions honestly and as simply as he could. He knew they needed his help and was more than prepared to give it. His lover was in dire straits, along with his pal Drang, so,
what the he
ll, he thought.

“I’m here to help you find Frell and Drang.”

A straightforward answer to her straightforward question, she considered.

“Do you know where they are?”

“No. The last time I saw them was on board their ship just before I was returned to Skye.”

“Ah, Skye.” She looked upwards towards the ceiling as if trying to imagine or recall the isle. “The little rocky island off the north coast of … England.”

“No! It’s off the west coast of Scotland.
The Isle of Skye is off the west coast of Scotland
. Yer just like a typical tourist; so ye are. Ye can give me Scotland any day o’ the week. It’s strange how foreigners think a’ the British Isles
is
England, or should I say aliens in this instance.” Patricia sat quietly trying to decipher his exclaimed answer. Had she just been given a telling off, or was it a typical answer from an Earthling. She couldn’t quite work out a reply to his words, so looked to Belinda for help. Belinda didn’t need to hear the telepathic plea; she understood most of what had passed between them. Scott’s file had included the fact his well spoken tongue would lean towards the Scottish vernacular if he became annoyed, angry or frustrated.

“I think Scott is trying to help you understand that the Isle of Skye is part of the country called, Scotland, Patricia. And unless I’m mistaken, and Scott can correct me if I am, the Scottish people are very proud of their country and their heritage.”

Scott turned to Belinda, smiled while giving a cheeky wink, and then said, “Damned right we are… Very flamin’ proud!”

Patricia sat motionless while still trying to appreciate Scott’s quaint turn of phrase. All she could do was smile encouragingly.

Belinda wasn’t sure about the wink. She wanted to ask him if there was something wrong with his eye, but decided to forget what she saw. If there were a problem, he would mention it. She knew there was a lot to learn about Earth-human communicative skills and interpretation.

Patricia continued. “The last time was when you were returned. Was there anything unusual about the return trip that might help us understand why they went missing?”

“Anything unusual?” asked a confused Scott.

“Yes, anything at all. Were there any communications with another ship while on the return trip to Earth, for instance?”

The memory of the encounter with the Grey ship rushed back to meet his thoughts. He recalled the dilemma they were in and his taking control of the ship and his team. The reference Frell made to him by calling him her
General
made him smile with pleasure. He remembered Frell so well; oh, how he was really beginning to miss her.

Both the commander and Belinda picked up his thoughts, quickly recognising the battle that took place above Earth. They never knew! No one knew, except the Grey Empire, no doubt!

Patricia climbed out of her seat and rapidly stepped across the room to the door. There was a pause before the door into Scott’s room opened with a start. “Are you telling us you destroyed a ship from the Grey Fleet?”

Scott took a step backwards before replying. “I never said that!

Patricia looked at him in disbelief. “You did, you just passed that information to me.”

Belinda stepped between them before explaining to Patricia that Scott was unaware of his extraordinary potential with telepathy, not fully understanding he was intermittently communicating with others hearing him. His abilities were on the increase, almost like an infant learning
to speak.

The commander began to understand why Scott was considered so valuable. She would need to be more understanding of this man if she was to recruit him as a rescuer.

“We did not know about the destruction of a Grey ship. It does not surprise me the Greys are seeking revenge for what you did. It appears to me, Scott, the Grey Empire are after you as well. I sense a trap in the making.”

Within his memory, Scott could still
see the stricken Grey vessel foundering above the planet’s atmosphere with its structure breaking into smaller fragments. Both women saw the vision as it flashed across to them from his functioning mind.

“This puts a different perspective on everything,” added Patricia. “This information must be passed to the Council immediately. Scott, I need a complete report of all your experiences following your departure from this Mothership following your previous visit.”

With an understanding nod of his head, he agreed.

No more words passed between Belinda and her boss, none that Scott was aware of. The final conversation was a briefing, full of instructions and commands. Patricia turned to Scott, picking up the inference of,
General
from his loud mind. “Did Frell refer to you as a General during the battle?”

“It was mainly afterwards,” he answered. “After I’d given the Grey’s a good kicking.”

“You physically kicked them?” she asked, unable to imagine how a man from Earth could possibly kick the Greys.

“Only in a manner of speaking,” he added. “And should I ever meet another brown Grey, he’ll get a Glasgow kiss!” He let out a
loud laugh at that statement.

Patricia understood. Like Belinda, she was beginning to see the wider implications in the way he spoke. She was also beginning to tune into his increasing telepathic skills, recognising the correct meaning of his words through the fuzziness of his logical thoughts. The imagined scene of a head-butt didn’t encourage or amuse them, but eventually recognised it was his humour in the making.

“There is much to discuss Belinda, so I will let you carry-on with what you must do.”

With this said, Patricia put out her hand to Scott, who in turn reached out and shook her hand in Earth-human style. She knew this was a friendly method of greeting and saying goodbye,
so decided to use it. Scott, on the other-hand was surprised. Patricia’s ulterior motive was to use it as an excuse to touch the man everyone wanted to meet. She felt his strong grip and bodily warmth for the briefest of moments, possibly hanging on for a little bit longer than she should have. He sensed the hesitation, thinking it was probably just a new experience for her, although a sharp image entered his head for that moment. He saw a picture of him… and her, both naked with arms and legs wrapped tightly around each other. He was sure there was a glint in her smiling eyes as he thanked her. Was the thought deliberately passed over, or was it his fertile imagination working overtime again. He couldn’t be certain, but enjoyed the interesting sensation anyway.