An Alien Rescue (15 page)

Scott returned his attention to the overhead monitors, focussing on the display showing the
system’s other planets. Mercury followed by Venus. Concentrated acid for rain made him cringe at the thought.
It would take one hell of an umbrella to keep you dry,
he amusingly thought.

Information concerning each of the planets scrolled across the bottom of the monitor, like a ticker-tape machine giving the latest news headlines. The relevant information regarding Mars soon appeared, drawing him closer to the monitor as if he might miss something if he didn’t
pay attention. The memory of a book he had as a youngster entered his mind. It was an artist’s impression of Mars, showing what was believed at the time of printing. There were pictures of wide canals with green and luscious forests bordering the banks of water. Multi-coloured animals and the strangest looking birds were depicted as either soaring above tree-topped canopies or drinking. The vivid and colourful scene gave the reader an image of a wild but extremely organised landscape, like some alien Garden-of-Eden. He recalled the little book and its thought provoking pictures with a smile, simply because it had captured his boyish imagination. How he had wished he could have gone there in person, it seemed so idyllic and exciting to his young and inquisitive mind. How completely wrong the little picture book had been though. The digitised information currently presented to Scott was that of an almost sterile planet. A surface with polar ice-caps and an atmosphere that was extremely thin with painfully little oxygen. There were, however, several large subterranean lakes. This groundbreaking information astounded Scott to the point where he allowed his mouth to open wide in shear astonishment, or perhaps shock! Recent scientific reports from Earth’s media had strongly suggested there was no water on this barren-looking planet, except perhaps for some moisture that might appear during the course of a chilled night, condensing on rocks in droplet form just prior to morning’s first light. The scrolling information disappeared, with pictures of a rusty-red coloured planet displayed across it. The monitor’s screen showed pictures of massive empty canyons with bordering mountain-high cliffs. The edges in various locations indicated areas where water had once flowed, looking like long bedraggled roots stretching down mountain slopes and across the dried ground. The entire scene was one of absent oceans and seas, a place where water had flowed, but not for an age, perhaps. It was nothing but a completely dead landscape that once teemed with life and a future. The canals, it appeared, were areas where oceans had once existed, leaving vast empty plains and dry basins. The depth of the empty so-called canals took Scott’s breath away as the additional information began scrolling its timely way across the screen’s lower portion once again. If only this information could be transmitted to Earth’s scientific community, he considered. It would save an awful lot of money that might be better used to help the suffering and the poor at home. He released a frustrated kind of sigh at the thought. His mind quickly returned to the present, catching up with the idea he was on course to Mars for a definitive purpose.

Phyllis stopped the ship’s progress, waiting for a detailed report compiled by the hull’s mounted sensors. A scrutiny was in progress, a detailed mapping of the planet’s surface, searching for any sign of recent activity
or unusual presence. A trace of charged ions was detected, a narrow line showing where a ship of none human origin had swept its way from the planet’s surface. Phyllis instructed the on-board computer to concentrate on the ion emission co-ordinates, asking for a time and dispersal readout, trying to work out when a ship had been present. The result was conclusive, it would have been about the time preceding their arrival into planet Earth’s system.

This information was communicated to Belinda by telepathy and was overheard by Scott. Whether they wanted him to know or not, he now did. There were times, thought Belinda, when passing on some information may not be to Scott’s advantage, or theirs.

“Are we going in to that area, to find Frell and Drang?” he asked with urgency in his voice.

Belinda knew she was right about Scott not needing to know everything that was happening.

“We still have to ascertain the right area and if they might be there.”

“M
-hmm…, yes. You’re right. I would appreciate being kept informed at all times if there might be anything of interest though,” he added. He felt there was a sort of conspiracy going on, a feeling they might not be telling him everything that might be relevant to the mission, on a need-to-know-basis.

“We’re ready, Belinda,” said Phyllis. The computer has agreed it’s the area where we need to land to locate Frell and Drang.”

Scott’s ears picked up like a farmer listening for a rabbit gnawing on some lettuce. His mind was beginning to turn over like a rotating cog with various teeth locking into place as the thought of moving into some kind of forbidden base to save his true love and her pilot.

“Touchdown in
... 30 … 20 … 10 … standby … 2, 1. We’ve landed.” Phyllis announced, to her breath-holding audience.

The ship’s slight internal humming sound faded as Phyllis s
tated they were on Martian soil.

Scott had expected to feel a bump of sorts, feeling a little disappointed there wasn’t anything like one. He recalled when as a youngster travelling into Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland, he was on a train with his grandfather. The train arrived on time at Waverley Station, right in the heart of the city, approaching the buffers at a fair rate of knots. He braced himself expecting to feel the train bump into them, with the inevitable bounce effect as the huge compressed springs pushed the train backwards. And, just like the little ship they were on, there was nothing of the sort.

“Just like bloody Waverley,” he said with disappointment.

Both Phyllis and Belinda looked at each other, not sharing their thoughts or saying the words that entered their minds. They were both as mystified as ever, wondering at the statement he had
just made. However, they as usual decided to ignore his comment and carry on as if he hadn’t uttered a word.

Three little red hats were removed from a concealed storage unit at one end of the Control panel, with one for each of them. Phyllis placed one on Scott’s head. She was about to explain it was an environmental unit, a piece of equipment that would protect him outside, allowing him to breathe. But before she could tell him, he said, “I know what that is, and don’t worry, I won’t be touching it.”

She nodded, telling him she understood he was aware of its purpose and dangers.

The ship’s internal generator came off-line with the backup
-system cutting-in automatically, generating just enough to maintain the minimum level of safety for,
Brian
. With no desire to be detected by anyone, this was the best way to remain anonymous on the dark-red sand of an almost dead planet.

Belinda stepped forward and pressed an illuminated button while looking towards Phyllis. Neither really knew what to expect as the ship entered Martian space
; and while presently sitting on an ancient seabed close to a suspected Grey base anything could happen.

“OK,” said Scott. “Which way do we go to the base?” His face was
quite blank of any expression and his eyes looked cold. A determined look stated he was about to commit blue-grey murder if he didn’t find Frell and Drang.

A
hatch automatically opened and a ramp flowed out. With steps that were gradual and slightly inclined the exit from their craft and entrance onto the surface was hazard free. With his first step onto Martian soil Scott was surprised to find it resembled rock when it appeared to be soft sand. He thought it might have been like a beach, because that’s what it looked like before he stepped on it. However, after many millions of dry years the result was a well-cemented structure to create the toughest possible sandstone.

He looked at their desolate surroundings, noticing Phyllis had chosen their final parking place well. They were in a depression where their presence would only be seen by someone who might actually stumble upon them by accident more than anything else.

Scott bent over and touched the surface, sliding his fingers across it. He knew he’d been to the moon, but now he was on another planet. The first man to set foot on Mars!
If only the politicians could see me now. I bet they’d be squabbling over which flaming country owns it
, he thought inwardly with a mischievous grin.
I wish I had a Scottish flag to stick in the ground!
He instead used a foot to try and scrape the simpler pattern of a Saltire flag, hoping to add the message,
Scotland owns Mars
, beside it. The rock was unforgiving as his foot slipped across the surface without leaving a trace. “Bugger it!” he said loudly in frustration. “I wish I’d brought a hammer and chisel with me! A flag as well! Damn!”

Belinda and Phyllis had already progressed forward some distance before they realised Scott had fallen behind. They hadn’t been aware of him laying claim to Mars on behalf of his country
, Scotland,  assuming he’d been following quietly behind. That’s when they realised his thoughts could be turned off, although quite unknowingly by himself. They once again looked to each other without comment, verbal or otherwise. It was unknown for an ordinary human to have done such a thing without special training, to conceal thoughts from others. It wasn’t just surprise that caught their attention, it was the risk he might not be able to communicate when he needed to, such as in a life-threatening emergency.

“Scott, are you alright? Belinda
verbally called to him.

Her voice sounded faint through the thin atmosphere. “I’m fine
. I’m just taking in what’s happening and where I am, that’s all.” He replied while looking back at the failed flag and declaration attempt. He considered the cliffs to one side before the other, deciding they resembled the ancient Red Devonian sandstone back on Earth. He reflected on the fact that the surface of Mar’s had been formed by the same oxidising processes as seen in ancient desert regions seen across his own planet.

Running to catch-up with them, he saw the red
sandstone crack beneath his plodding feet. It was brittle, but only on its upper surface layer.

Belinda and Phyllis were speaking verbally as he approached, with silence falling between them as he arrived. He didn’t ask why their conversation ended with his arrival, thinking it was purely coincidental and he shouldn’t be paranoid. However, the conversation had been inclined towards what they might find and how
would Scott handle the prospect of finding Frell and Drang had been killed and mutilated by the Greys. Before any kind of conclusion had been concluded, he returned.

“Are we anywhere close to the Greys base?” he asked while still looking around
in wonderment.

“We’re about ten of your kilometres away from where we believe the base to be, so there’s
still a long way to travel. If you can keep pace with us we’ll make it there in about one of your Earth hours.”

He burst-out laughing, thinking about their measurements. Earth-hours indeed! If you didn’t measure in Earth hours, what would you be measuring in?” he asked wondering with what weird and fanciful equations they might throw at him.

“We would use what are called spacials. They are of a predetermined length of time, regardless of where you are or what speed you may be travelling at. So, if you asked how many spacials it would take to reach the base I would say about three point zero-zero-zero-zero-one-five.”

He looked at Belinda as she finished making
her
point
, wishing he hadn’t tried to be such a smart-ass. “Is that right, about three point several zeroes-… one… five… of a spacial, I would never have guessed it was quite so close.”

Belinda and Phyllis couldn’t resist laughing out loud. It was an unusual occurrence for either of them but laugh rapturously they did, and they felt all the better for it. While they had been in Scott’s company, his influence had been to make them feel more and more human, infecting them with feelings they had never felt or experienced. It was these feelings that began to convince them that this was why Frell had decided to leave the memory of their meeting within his mind. If it had been either of them then they would probably have done the same. Scott was a remarkable man and his influence was almost overwhelming in its
infecting energy.

It was the first time he’d heard them laugh
so, remembering the time when he’d first heard Frell do the same. He smiled at the memory of the event.

“Scott, we need to move-on. Are you ready for a march?”

“Damned right I am! Just you lead the way and I’ll show you what to do once we get there,” he stated while thinking he was going to show a few Grey sods how he felt about them.

“Follow us and we’ll show you the way
. Then it’s up to you.”

His thoughts were
concentrating on what might happen, but also on what they might find. He really didn’t want to contemplate what they might uncover, but felt the serious need to consider it. If he did find his worst nightmares-come-true, then there would be Grey blood spilt from here to eternity, he decided. He would refuse to return to Earth, swearing to wreak vengeance upon an adversary that swore allegiance to none but themselves and their own selfish kind. And then he smiled. He considered how humans had moved forward from being basic savages to educated savages. He understood that humans and Greys shared an ethos of destruction. His smile faded quickly.