An Alien Rescue (16 page)

The t
rio moved across what had once been a sea-bed, avoiding softer sand where footprints might show. Time steadily passed by as they trekked across an ancient maritime landscape, not really observing very much. Their minds were actively working on any kind of scenario they may be presented with. The area they were heading for soon appeared. Belinda suddenly crouched and signalled the others to do the same. Scott motioned forwards to the edge of a fossilised sand dune, kneeling beside her while looking cautiously over its summit. Phyllis crawled up behind them, carefully trying to see what had caught their attention.

“It’s the entrance, we’ve found it
!” Phyllis exclaimed while pointing at a pair of double doors at the foot of a very high cliff.

Belinda surveyed the area ahead of them, wondering if there might be
any kind of surveillance or detection system. Scott slid himself over the leading edge of the old dune and skidded down the hard gritty surface, not really knowing what to expect when he hit the base. He wanted to reach the doors soonest so he could get in quickly, taking any occupants by surprise before ripping the blue-blazes out of any little Greys that might raise their not-so little black-eyed heads. He was in no mood for fucking-about, he felt. He was there to save two brave individuals who he really cared for, prepared to give his own life for their survival if needed. He could be awfully altruistic when the need arose, he knew.

Belinda and Phyllis held their breath
and looked-on through fried-egg eyes as Scott had slid down the sandy-looking surface. They expected all kinds of alarms and mayhem as a result of his inappropriate actions so remained perfectly still while watching for any sort of reaction. With no retribution or alert from unseen enemies, they too slid down the same way he did. Their astonishment and horror was obvious as their bodies accelerated down the slope towards his smiling face. With a couple of bumps on their rumps they arrived close by his feet, rubbing their behinds and elbows in unison. Scott couldn’t suppress a laugh as their blue-suited bodies had crumpled in front of him, both exhaling a slight cry of pain and great surprise.

“What are you two like?” he asked with humour in his voice. “I’ve seen my daughters do better than the pair of you.”

Belinda replied with a grin. “They’re obviously from suspect gene-stock, where they can slide down mountain high slopes and not care about the pain from landing.”

He replied with a
riotous laugh, recognising they had done well to do what they had achieved. His smile didn’t help their discomfort though, especially as their bums still hurt as if they had been kicked by a size twelve boot with hobnails.

“C’mon,” he said. “There’s a couple of team-members we need to save, and we need to get a grip if we’re gonna do it.”

Phyllis, without any hesitation, asked, “What the hell does
gonna
mean?”

Both Scott and Belinda turned to look at her. “Holy shit, Phyllis,” he said. “Did you say the word,
hell
, in a sentence, like the way I thought you just did?”

She released a blush so red it could easily have blended with the surface they were standing on.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she replied. “I never thought about the word. It just seemed to be the right thing to say. It was how I felt.”

Belinda felt it could so easily have been
her
that said the words, but decided to keep the confession to herself.

Scott was impressed with Phyllis, recognising a similar type of defiance as shown by Drang when confronted by the Greys during his last flight into space. Phyllis could only feel embarrassed and fell into an awkward
foot-shuffling silence.

Belinda cut in to the seemingly awkward situation by saying it was time to move forward.

“Yeah, I agree,” he said. “We need to get a grip or we’re gonna lose the battle. Oh, and by the way, Phyllis,
gonna
means going.”

Neither of the ladies said anything. It was recognised that Scott had a quaint turn of phrase and it was decided to ignore such words and phrases rather than to dwell upon them.

“Right,” said Phyllis, to Belinda’s astonishment. “Let’s get gonna and kick some ass!”

Scott couldn’t contain himself and laughed even louder. Phyllis wasn’t sure what she’d said, but recalled
some of the words from a transcript of his past exploits. Belinda also remembered the words, but wouldn’t have been able to use them in context.

As for Scott, he was so impressed he felt like kissing Phyllis again, wanting to show his appreciation of how she could accept his language and use of certain words, although some did need sorting out. He refrained from approaching her as he felt Belinda’s eyes on him
; watching.

“OK, let's get gonna … Erm, I mean, going, actually.” And with Scott’s words, they all set off in line, one behind the other, all watching and listening for anything that might be seen as either important or out of the ordinary.

The double doors were tightly closed, with a great wedge of sand piled up at the base of each.

“It looks as though these doors have been shut for some considerable time,” Scott pointed out.

Belinda considered his statement and inwardly agreed. However, she also knew this was their only known entrance into a base that wasn’t supposed to exist, so they had to make a concerted effort to gain entry.

Scott picked up her thoughts and said, “If we’re to get in, there has to be some kind of method of gaining entry through these
damned doors.”

“Can you read my thoughts?” Belinda cheekily asked Scott, sarcastically insinuating she had already posed that question.

He responded. “I’m unsure,” he replied. “I get these feelings of questions and answers in my head, almost as if I’m… psychic or something.”

Both ladies considered his answer, giggling. They enjoyed his wit and repartee, but it might become an uneasy situation, one where they would need to be aware that he would always know what they were thinking. They hadn’t known such an individual before and wondered if there had been any such occurrence prior to this moment.

Scott scrutinised the doors, examining the gap between them. There wasn’t enough room to squeeze a razor blade, never mind his feeling-fingers for a prizing grip. He recalled similar tight surfaces between stones in Peru, where ancient Inca city walls had similar jointing, wondering if there might be a connection.

Phyllis picked up his thoughts, knowing the answer to his quandary. “Scott, the Incas were a clever race of people, a population that had learnt the basic rudiments of irrigation and cultivation, which was a great leap forward for any group at that time. They also received lessons on building techniques, where their consequent structures were of such a high standard. We believed they would have been the original Egyptians, if they had developed the wheel and learned to use metal for industrial purposes. Our influence had been short lived, especially as other populations and
tribes were already moving across the planet’s surface, colonising areas that were once barren and inhospitable.”

“Hang on Phyllis, I’m trying to work out how the hell to open this pair of bloody doors and you’re giving me a history lesson! Bloody heck woman! As much as I find what you’re telling me interesting, I have to decide what’s important. And in this case it aint the flippin’ Incas!”

Phyllis looked embarrassed as she considered his curt reply. It was known that Scott found the history of his planet intriguing, to the point where he would try to remember as much as he could, so might recall it. However, in this instance, it was an unwanted diversion to his train of thought. She would try to tell him again, should the occasion arise. There was so much she could tell him, such information that would help him to understand what had happened in his planet’s history. It would have to wait though.

“Right,” Scott whispered. “There has to be a way to open these goddamned doors, or I’m a monkey’s uncle.”

Once again, the looks between Belinda and Phyllis cried out puzzlement. What did being a monkey’s uncle have to do with trying to open a pair of closed doors? They were baffled, but kept silent while trying to work out what he meant. Perhaps he was talking in riddles. Or perhaps Phyllis was right about his state of mind. They still didn’t comment, allowing him the chance to continue.

Belinda? Phyllis? Does the metal of these doors not remind you of anything? He asked while sliding his hands down the surface of each door.

Neither of them knew what he was referring to, while wondering where his thoughts might be leading to.

He asked “Does the silvery colour and texture not remind you of anything in particular?”

The doors were scrutinised by both for a few seconds before Phyllis retorted, “It’s the same metal our ship is made of.”

“Ya-bloody-hoo!” he shouted, before realising his voice might actually be heard on the other side of the doors. “Well done that woman,” he added, although much quieter. “If we were to apply a voltage,” he whispered, “we could liquefy the bloody doors for entry.”

“Hah!” Phyllis exclaimed loudly, before realising like Scott the sound of her voice might carry.

“Shhhh,” Scott warned. “We must keep our voices low.”

“Mmm, you’re right,” Phyllis agreed.

Belinda
also agreed, showing it with a nod of her head, maintaining the silent routine.

“Is there such a thing as a battery on board our ship?” he asked in a whisper.

Both women asked in unison. “What’s a battery?”

The trap wasn’t going to catch any human offerings today, thought the Grey Commander. If the ship was coming it would have arrived long before now, he added to his suspicious thoughts. The detection of the eccentric asteroid or comet may well have been the ship he was waiting for, he considered, and perhaps its crew had detected his own ship as it lay in wait. He reconsidered his plan and concluded there was no way any other ship could possibly detect the fact his ship
was
in hiding. Therefore, he surmised, the human occupants must have outguessed his trap and left the system just after it entered. This would certainly account for the strange way the object behaved. With that conclusion still ringing alarm bells in his head, he gave the order to return to base. He may not know where they were intending to enter, but he certainly knew where they wanted to go.

The submarine was well under way and the rumours were beginning to grow at an alarming rate. The crew were aware this wasn’t any ordinary detour as the hush-hush of whispers between those who knew was obvious. The guarded conversations, unusually closed doors and general concealment of everyday facts, such as their general heading, depth and speed, were kept secret from most. The cooks were especially pissed-off. They were given no information regarding a change in meal times, so when the galley with its compliment of five chefs had been ready to serve with no one arriving they knew there was an unprecedented change in the sub’s strategy and reason for going wh
atever direction it had turned to. The Officer in charge of Catering hadn’t shown up for the usual inspection prior to the crew sitting down to eat, only adding speculation to the rumours that spread between those who could only guess.

Scott turned to face Belinda, then Phyllis, trying to figure out how to describe a battery to someone who was from another planet and obviously lacked his knowledge and experiences.

“Well now, let me see. Hmm, a battery is…, well, it’s a cell, or a collection of cells, that can generate a voltage by chemical reaction, which in turn releases free electrons to flow along a conducting path.”

As the two ladies tried to envisage what Scott was saying, trying to turn his words into pictures, Scott was becoming aware they weren’t fully understanding what he was describing. He could almost see what they were trying to create within their minds, considering how difficult it must be for them. “Almost as difficult as it’s been for me”, he told himself.

“What was that, Scott”, they asked. His description had faded to the small statement of how difficult it had been for him. That didn’t add anything to a battery’s description so remained quiet until he spoke again.

Scott reconsidered what he was trying to do. He didn’t have time to give a physics lesson or even attempt to simplify what a basic electric cell or battery was. He decided to attack the request from another direction instead.

“Do you have any portable power-supply systems on board our ship?”

Phyllis was first to respond. “There are small power
units in the small tools we have above our heads, they power the life support systems that protects us.”

His eyes turned to look at the hat she was wearing, wondering what kind of battery could be powering such a device. It would need to be powerful and long-lasting, he reflected.

“How can I get one,” he quickly asked, before adding, “Is there a spare unit on our ship that I can use?”

Phyllis knew there were several more units on board, any of which could be used to provide a power-supply. “Yes, there are several,” she said. “each with its own internal power unit.”

“Phyllis?” he asked politely. “Would you leg-it back to our ship and bring me one please?”

“Would I leg-it? I’m uncertain what you mean,” she asked blankly.

With a smile, while realising he had asked a question they couldn’t understand, he revised it. “Would you run back to our ship to get me one please? Oh yeah, and if I need any tools to dismantle it, would you be so kind please?”

Phyllis turned to Belinda. “If he needs tools to dismantle the unit, why should I have to be kind, and who or what to?”

Belinda spoke up. “We’re not sure what you mean by, ‘to be kind’, if there are tools required.”

“I’m so sorry,
” Scott apologised. “I must try harder when I say things that can be misleading or easily misinterpreted. What I meant to say was, could Phyllis run back to our ship to bring me one of the spare units, and if there are tools needed to dismantle it, could she bring them as well?”

“Of course,” Phyllis said as she responded by turning on her heals and heading back to the ship which was well out of site. Belinda communicated with her as she departed.

Scott, on the other hand, drew closer to Belinda, trying to get a better look at the small hat upon her head. He couldn’t see any screw-heads or fixtures as part of the assembly, wondering how it was constructed. He wasn’t going to try and touch it either, just in case he inadvertently dislodged it. He couldn’t face the possibility he might cause her harm by being too inquisitive. He turned his attention back to the closed doors, looking for anything that might resemble a hinge, lock, handle or switch.

The Grey ship was on its return journey, although at a sedate pace just in case its scanners should detect the ship they were searching-for. By running on a low energy drive, his own ship’s presence should be difficult for anyone else to trace. They would be back on Mar’s soon enough, he contemplated, and the humans would be caught if they were already there. His
original plan would have to be scrapped, though. He almost grinned with a sense of self-satisfaction as his cold imagination allowed him to see the proposed vivisection underway and the hybrids receiving new organs.

Phyllis arrived with the unit, holding it out to Scott as she approached him.

“Thanks, you didn’t take very long at all,” he added with surprise at the short time she’d been away.

She smiled as she replied he didn’t need any tools to dismantle it, offering to do the job for him.

“Sure,” he replied to her offer, not bothering to take it from her.

Crouching down beside him, she balanced the little device on one knee, before applying pressure to the centre of its flat top. The unit responded by twisting off its own cap, as if motorised. As it untwisted, a sharp beam of light escaped through the gap, pulsing its brilliance with an intense electric-blue glow.

“Wow, that’s one strange kind of battery,” he added as its luminance lit-up their surrounding faces. “It looks like some kind of weird torch.”

With the unscrewed lid finally off, he could see where the light was emanating from. What he saw reminded him of a marble, a small ball of perfectly round glass with a dash of colour
at its centre. He recalled playing games with lots of them as a child, competing with friends to win as many as he could. Only this glass-marble wasn’t anything as simple as those he once played with, this little glass ball was nothing short of being a technological miracle.

“What the heck is it,” he asked as he peered into its glowing wonder. His eyes got wider and his face got closer as he appeared to be mesmerised by its internal flashing activity.

Leaning backwards, giving Scott a bit more room, Phyllis explained it was a very dangerous piece of equipment and a safe distance should always be maintained.

“Blimey,” Scott blurted out. “You make it sound like a set of safety instructions for setting off fireworks.”

“It is a safety instruction, Scott,” Phyllis added while showing concern in her tone.

“Yeah, I know,” he said while feeling like a little boy who had been corrected by a schoolteacher. Then chirped, “Okay, let’s get it working. How do I disconnect it from the environmental unit and how long are the connecting wires?”

Phyllis undid a small hook within the unit’s base, allowing the globe to fall free into his hands as she bent forward.

“It’s safe at the moment,” she advised him. “But if you remove the seal from the single flat end, the trapped energy will surge outwards in two parallel beams. If you touch either of the beams they’ll scorch you, possibly amputating the part of the limb they come into contact with.”

With a distinctly audible gulp, he held it even more carefully, respecting it for being something a bit more than just a simple battery.

“What’ll happen if I touch both beams at once?” he asked pensively, almost regretting asking the question.

“That’s something you mustn’t do. The beams would short-circuit across your body and the resulting explosion would destroy you in less than a nanosecond,” interrupted Belinda with obvious apprehension in her voice while taking a backwards step away. She swallowed hard at the thought of its destructive power and the possible resulting mess of Scott distributed across the Martian landscape.

“Do we need wires to connect to the output terminals, or will the beams of light transfer the voltage to where we want it to go?” he asked while failing to see anything like wire lying around or in anyone’s hands.

“There are no output terminals, as such, Scott. The high-voltage energy flows along the lines of visible plasma,” she added.

“Eh? I’m not quite sure what you mean?” he said while still turning the small globe over in his hands.

“The unit has two apertures, small holes on the flat surface where each allows a beam of electrons to stream out. Each beam is the opposite of the other, one is a negative and the other a positive. That’s why shorting them out would destroy you and almost anything else in its immediate vicinity.”

He looked at the small glowing ball in his hands, locating the mentioned flat area. The thin seal was black in colour, resembling a simple piece of plastic insulating tape covering the two output holes.

“How do I remove the cover without harming myself,” he quietly asked.

“It’s not easy,” stated Phyllis. “It’s a delicate operation, which I can do. I will operate it if you tell me what you need it for.”

Accepting her skills and knowledge of the unit, believing it would be better for all of them if she were to do the safety drill and manhandling, he explained what he needed.

“Into two corners of the door
s, diagonal opposites,” he said as he pointed where he wanted the beams to shine their magic. “Put one beam into each, but be ready to stop whenever I say so,” he added with a slightly raised voice.

“I’m ready,” Phyllis said while training the direction of the outlet channels into the door’s dark recesses.

“Right Phyllis..., do it!”

The sudden release of trapped energy along two narrow beams made Scott jump. The light was so intense he thought he might get
an instant tan as it lit up the area with what looked like intensive ultra-violet. The doors melted like a silver waterfall, rushing for the ground like flowing mercury, until...

“Stop, Phyllis
, ST-O–O-O-P”

The beams disappeared in an instant, even before his command to stop was complete. Her reactions had been so fast he’d allowed the,
STOP
, word to hang in the air for a little bit longer than necessary as he didn’t need to have uttered it in the first place. He was impressed by her reactions, assured he had a good team player on the mission.

The door’s liquefied collapse ceased abruptly, as if freezing into a solid mass at the release of a button. The solidified remains of what had been the doors resembled a mudflow locked in time. With a final press of the seal, Phyllis informed everyone the unit was safe again. Scott didn’t move for a moment, taken by the suddenness of the door’s melting. “That was
bloody fast!” he said in astonishment.

“This unit is unrestrained, Scott. Its energy is not restricted or regulated like it is on our ships or within the complete environmental units,” was explained by Phyllis while looking
deep into the globe’s internal glow.

“If I had one of those to play with on Earth, I reckon I could use it to drive all kinds of machinery and perform a few miracles too. I bet I could use it to drive a car as well,” he worked out and believed he was correct, which he was.

Belinda was silent, as was Phyllis. They both knew it was a great risk allowing Scott to see something of their technology in action, a piece of their hardware that could be utilised and adapted for his own ideas. Scott didn’t pick up their thoughts this time, but felt a twinge of suspicion by their sudden silence.

“How exactly does it work
and what is it that allows it to give out so much power?” He didn’t know if they would answer or not, preparing to change the subject rather than leave a pregnant pause hanging between them. Their relationship was far more important than falling out over a question and answer that might damage a close team effort.

Belinda decided to answer his awkward question, while not knowing if she was doing the right thing. She too didn’t want to risk damaging a good working partnership by
withholding information. She thought if Scott suspected they withheld information, he might not show as much trust in them again.

“It works in exactly the same way as lightning is generated on your planet, Scott. Only in this case, it’s miniaturised for ease of use. There’s enough internal power being released by chemical and environmental reactions to power a small town, until the reaction decreases through chemical breakdown.”