Jason King: Agent to the Stars 1: The Enclaves of Sylox (33 page)

BOOK: Jason King: Agent to the Stars 1: The Enclaves of Sylox
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Chapter 5

K
aylor and Jym watched the monitor as the creature shook his head, then noticing the straps holding him down to the table, began jerking and twisting, doing his best to break free. Then frustrated, a sound came through the speakers, loud and primal, as the creature let out a scream: “Let me go, you motherfuckers!”

Moments later, Kaylor and Jym entered the cargo hold, Kaylor armed with his MK-17 bolt launcher. This time he made sure to set it at level one. It would reduce the charge to only five bolts, but he was sure it could now stop the creature, should the need arise again.

The creature’s piercing blue eyes flared as he watched the two of them enter the room, his mouth displaying double rows of long, white teeth.
Definitely a meat eater,
Kaylor concluded, which sent a shiver down his spine.

Approaching the bench, Kaylor rested his good hand on the butt of the launcher and tapped it gently with his fingers. The creature noticed the movement and seemed to acknowledge the fact that Kaylor had a weapon.
Not so dumb after all, are you?

“Who—what are you?” The creature asked in a deep, strong voice. There didn’t seem to be any fear in the question.

“I’m Kaylor, and this is Jym. And what is your name?”

The creature cocked his head slightly. “I don’t understand. Are you speaking Farsi?”

This was strange. Kaylor and Jym exchanged a look, before Jym moved closer to the bench and reached out his hand toward the creature’s head.

“Stay away from me, you stinking freak!”

Ignoring the protests, Jym pulled back the ear of the creature and felt the skin. Nothing—no trace at all. This thing truly was primitive.

Jym hurried out of the room, while Kaylor leaned against a crate and watched the creature, who stared back at him with a look of fierce defiance.
Go ahead and glare at me you animal,
Kaylor thought.
I’m not about to let you get the best of me. Not again.

********

The thing was just standing there, staring at him. By this time, Adam had accepted the fact that he wasn’t dreaming, and that this was all too real. Even if it was a ruse, the makeup and special effects were far beyond anything the Taliban or Al Qaeda could do. Besides, why would they even bother? Terrorists weren’t known for their subtlety or sophistication.

So this was real … which meant this was a
real
alien standing in front of him.

The creature stood about his height, with pasty white skin that showed the pale purple traces of veins underneath. Its build was slight, yet proportional, even though it didn’t appear to be very muscular. Yet it was the face that was so—
alien
. The nose was extremely wide, with hardly a rise associated with it, and the eyes were very narrow and set wide apart. The mouth was small with thin lips, and when it spoke, Adam noticed upper and lower rows of very small, slightly rounded teeth. There was very little hair on the head, grayish in color and mainly at the sides, wrapping around two very small, almost nonexistent ears. And just below the ears dangled two, inch-long fingers of skin – for what purpose Adam was afraid to speculate.

The alien had two thin arms—one with what was clearly a cast on it – which ended with normal looking hands; four fingers and a thumb. Around the torso the creature wore a white wrap of some kind, fitted tightly over a light blue set of coveralls.

The overall effect was both alien and familiar at the same time. But whatever it was, this thing had him tied to a table, unable to move – and that made
this
alien his enemy.

The smaller, hairy creature came rushing back into the room carrying a small box about the size of a ring case. It moved up along the side of the table, opened the box and took out something. Adam struggled to move away as the alien reached toward his head; then he felt a warm sensation on the skin behind his ear. The warmth quickly turned to a burning, stinging pain that quickly subsided. The small creature backed away.

“Can you hear me now?” The phrase caught Adam by surprise, not so much for its content, but from the fact that the movement of the creature’s mouth did not match the words he heard.

Hesitantly, Adam responded. “Yeah, I can hear you. You speak English?”

“Your language is in the Library, that’s all,” the thing said. Again, the non-synchronized mouth and sounds reminded him of watching T.V. with the sound slightly out of synch. It was unnerving.

“What the hell am I doing here? And what … what
are
you?”

The two creatures looked at each other, and Adam noticed a mutual reaction from both. The big one stepped forward.

“Like I said, I am Kaylor, and this is Jym.” The voice came over as strong and confident, if slightly higher-pitched than Adam’s. “Who are
you
?”

Alarms went off in Adam’s mind, and again his training took over. “I’m Petty Officer 2nd Class Adam Cain, United States Navy. That’s all I have to tell you.”

The big one—Kaylor—gave a look of disgust. “That seems like a very long name. Do you prefer to be called Petty? Or Officer … or what?”

“No, petty officer is my rank. Petty Officer 2nd Class. My name is Adam Cain.”

“Greetings Adam Cain.”

“You can just call me Adam.” This was getting ridiculous.

Kaylor’s head bounced from left to right. “Very well, Adam, as for background, you are now aboard my ship … and you are safe.”

Adam jerked against the straps holding him to the table. “If I’m safe, then why am I tied down here?” Then not waiting for an answer, Adam went ahead and asked the most monumental question of his life: “Are you …
aliens?

The two creatures exchanged another look, and then the small one spoke. “If you refer to a being who is not from where you come from and is different from you, then I submit it is
you
who is the
alien
here, and not us.” The tone, even for an alien, was sarcastic and condescending.

Kaylor placed a hand on Jym’s arm. “To you, Adam, we would be aliens, yet the term does not have much meaning to us. There are so many other worlds and races that by your definition
everyone
is an alien. Where are
you
from?”

“I’m not tellin’ you shit! I saw what you did to those other … things.”

“I did not do that. I came aboard later—”

“He saved your life!” Jym blurted out.

If he had not already seen the tiny gray beings, Adam was sure he would have been in complete shock and awe with the fact that here he was talking with two very real-life
aliens
. But that moment had passed, replaced now with a seething, burning anger. He was being held prisoner, and that was all that mattered now.

He tried to calm down; he closed his eyes for a moment and took in a couple of deep breaths. He would have liked nothing more than to spend time trying to reason with these aliens in an effort to release him, but that wasn’t going to be possible … not now. When he regained his composure, Adam Cain had only one thing on his mind.

“Listen,” he said slowly, “if you don’t let me loose pretty soon and show me where the closest bathroom is, we’re going to have a real mess around here.”

“Bath … Room?” Again, the two aliens looked at each other.

“Yeah – bathroom, restroom, head, latrine … whatever you call it here. I have to relieve myself, and I mean right now!”

The two aliens appeared to panic, while Adam got the distinct impression that they hadn’t planned for this. Finally Kaylor spoke. “We can’t risk untying you; you nearly killed me before. Is there anything else we can do?”

“Like what, give me a bedpan? No, you’re going to have to let me loose, and I mean quickly.”

Reaching a decision, Kaylor stepped away from the table and drew his weapon. “This is set for a level-one max bolt – this time it
will
kill you. Do not attempt to attack either of us.” His head shook back and forth again, this time in the direction of Jym. The tiny bear-like creature stepped forward and began to loosen the straps.

Soon Adam was free, and when he jumped off the table, he found he was lightheaded but could still function reasonably well. “Follow Jym,” Kaylor commanded. “I’ll be behind you at a safe distance.”

Obeying, Adam was led out of the warehouse and into a narrow, dimly-lit hallway. About ten meters down, Jym slid open a door and Adam stepped into what was a restroom of strange familiarity. There was a bank of sinks and even some dirty mirrors on the wall above them. Against another wall were two seats rising up from the floor with holes placed in them.
What do you know, aliens use toilets!

Adam quickly slipped past Jym and plopped down on the nearest seat, separating the filthy sheet he still wore as he did so. Then looking over at the two aliens, he said, “Do you mind; how about a little privacy?”

“While relieving yourself? Why?” Kaylor asked.

“It’s just how we do it. Please.”

Reluctantly, the two aliens backed out of the room and slid the door shut, at which point Adam should have been thinking about looking for a way out. But first things first—he
really
had to go.

Once he was done, he looked around for toilet paper and a flush handle, but found neither. All he spotted was a blue button on the wall to his right; he pushed it and immediately felt a warm sensation on his butt, followed by a small puff of smoke that was immediately sucked into a vent at the toilet bowl lining.

And that was that; he felt clean and there was no residue in the bowl.
Pretty neat
, he thought. Advanced alien shitter technology….

Now it
was
time to get down to business. Standing up, Adam quickly began to survey the room for another door or a window, any avenue of escape. Then his gaze fell upon an image in one of the dirty mirrors; it was of a gaunt man with a short, straggly beard and a twisted crop of longish, oily blond hair.
Was it him?

He moved closer to the mirror. What had happened? This was indeed a reflection of him in the mirror, but now his formerly clean-shaven face easily displayed a two-to three-week growth of beard, accompanied by two to three inches of hair on his normally crew-cut head. Being a sailor—and especially with his rating—he had kept the hair on his head down to a bare minimum. Now look at him. He must have been unconscious for a lot longer than he thought.

Yet the scariest part of it all was that it seemed like only a few hours had passed since he was on patrol in the Kush, with Zack and Peanut and the rest of the men from his Team. And he’d lost weight, too—a lot of it in fact. So he must have been under for a good two to three weeks … probably more.

Then as he stood staring at the stranger in the mirror, another thought came crashing down on him:
Maria and Cassie!

He broke out in a cold sweat and began to tremble violently. If he had been unconscious for what could be weeks – either in the warehouse room or in that canister – then what was happening with his wife and two-year-old daughter? If he had been captured—wait, abducted—then he would have been reported as missing-in-action, along with all that implied. His knees suddenly grew weak and he nearly collapsed. He steadied himself on the sink.
What are they going through?
he thought.
My God, they must think I’m dead!

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