An Alien Rescue (17 page)

His eyes didn’t focus on anything in particular as he considered her answer. He imagined a small thunderstorm locked into the small glass ball, which is exactly what it was.

“Under what internal conditions is the storm being generated?”

His question was aimed at not only understanding the processes involved, but also an attempt to try and recall the answer so he could try and build the same back home.

“It’s too complicated to try and explain,” she replied, while trying to cut short the conversation. “The simple answer is that a small storm is simulated by miniaturising the effects of thermal friction, humidity, temperature and static electricity. When combined in the correct proportions and conditions, the effect is electrifying.”

There was a pause as Scott juggled the information he had been given, turning over in his mind the last little bit about electrifying. Did Belinda just make a pun? he asked himself. Meeting her grin he realised she had.

“That’s very good, that’s really very good, Belinda. The effect is electrifying indeed.” He released a laugh that was genuine and in good humour. Both women laughed too. Their relationship was still on track and the mission was still on-going. Thank goodness, thought Belinda. Well done, thought Phyllis. Both beamed a smile that lasted quite a while.

Scott stepped forward towards the absent doors, climbing over the solidified metallic flow with care, just in case there should still be some hot molten liquid left. There wasn’t and his footing was firm.

“What shall we do with the rest of the tool’s pieces?” asked Phyllis while holding the complete subassembly.

“Leave them here and we’ll collect the bundle on our return.” Scott replied without looking as his concentration was now elsewhere and moving fast.

Leaning forward through the opening, a faint light showed from deep inside. Their vision was restricted after the brilliance of the globe’s light, so they opted to wait a few moments before entering. They knew they needed to see well enough, otherwise an enemy could so easily catch them. Their normal vision returned after several minutes of blinking and rubbing
of eyes. They entered into the dim light of the tunnel, wondering what lay in the distance.

“Now hear this... Now hear this...” bellowed the sub’s hailing system. “The Captain will inform the crew of our new mission objective in approximately fifteen minutes. All personnel, including those not on essential duty, are to standby for this important announcement.”

The message had the entire crew waiting impatiently as the timed announcement was about to be broadcast. Any sleeping member of the off-duty crew had been shaken awake by their colleagues, informing them of the impending broadcast.
For once, those who had been awakened didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Now hear this... Now hear this… ,” it began
again. “This is your Captain speaking. I’m aware there has been a significant amount of rumours drifting throughout this vessel during the past few hours and I wish to inform all personnel of the change in circumstances we now find ourselves in. To begin with, and this is as much as
I
know, we are in unprecedented waters as far as our new mission status goes. We have been ordered to investigate a sighting of what is termed an unidentified flying object in the South Atlantic. We have all seen the science fiction movies in the wardroom, and of course in your own homes or at the movies, but we mustn’t allow ourselves to be fooled into thinking we could be dealing with little green men from Mars or flesh-eating monsters from outer-space. However, this is not a movie so we must play this as if it is real. Our training has really only ever concentrated on the aspect of nuclear confrontation and our leading part in its deterrent, or destruction. This new adventure gives us an added experience, whereupon we can find ourselves carrying out a diverse sort of routine; something completely different to the norm. With this in mind I say to you all, I ask for your patience and complete understanding in anything that happens, which of course may be absolutely nothing. To follow orders and know that we all rely on our training, to the point where we work together as a team; we will, perhaps, work in a way we have never done previously. Our new mission may be a wild-goose-chase, but only time will tell. If anyone has any questions relating to our mission, or what might be expected of them, please consult the
XO
. If there are any unclassified relevant updates you will be informed at the earliest opportunity. Thank you for your undivided attention. This is your
Skipper
signing off. Out.”

For several lengthy moments there was a lot of thoughtful guessing amidst a silent hush, before the furore of excitement and speculation hit the verbal atmosphere among the crew. All manned compartments were awash with stories of UFO’s and what a friend of a friend had seen or heard. Then there was the inevitable discussion concerning the famous Ros
well incident from the 1940’s, having taken place in New Mexico in the USA. The Skipper’s announcement of a possible UFO sighting brought all the theories and alarmist reactions to the fore, with some hoping for some kind of extraterrestrial contact or experience that would make them famous and perhaps rich. Others weren’t so positive.

The Grey commander was becoming convinced the small blip that had entered then left the system was what they had been waiting to intercept. He couldn’t fathom how the human ship had detected them, if at all. He was aware that some humans had unexplainable abilities to foresee the future, but found it difficult to
understand how. He made up his mind that this might be the case in hand and actually happened, simply because he couldn’t fathom that a human might actually be able to outwit him. He understood that the male in question must have something exceptional about him so would probably need to be on his guard. However, his own thoughts still concentrated on the plan of catching the ship and its crew so continued to travel back to Mars at the reduced speed just in case they might still detect it.

The doorway had been an access point, intercepting a tunnel that was
almost perfectly round with the narrowest of paths and a very low ceiling. The floor was covered in powdery-dust and traces of grit, where several small footprints were easily distinguished.

“This tunnel is used,” whispered Scott. “But the footprints are small enough to be children,” he said before recalling the little Greys from his previous encounter. “It certainly looks like a Grey base and more than likely the one we’ve been
searching for,” he added quickly while trying to listen for any sound that could warn him of an approaching body from either direction.

Belinda and Phyllis moved to his side, studying the footprints.

“Yes, Scott, I believe you are correct in your evaluation. The prints are the right size for Grey clones,” agreed Belinda.

Scott turned to face her, Belinda’s words still ringing in his ears. “My evaluation?” he sarcastically asked. “So you think I’m right then?” he stated cheekily. “You sound like Mister Spock,” he added.

But before Belinda could reply, she was nudged by Phyllis. The telepathic message he was mocking her was passed across. “Yes, we think you are right…,” added Phyllis. “But who’s Mister Spock?”

He grinned a knowing smile and smirked at the silliness of what he had said, gently shaking his head at his own mistake.
“Don’t ask, it’s not important.” He continued. “The footprints are going in both directions so there might be something of interest at either end. But which direction do we follow?”

Without any obvious indication to suggest which direction they should take, Scott mentally allocated a number to each of his hands. “Choose a number… one or two?” he asked Belinda while holding his hands out, palms up.

“Choose a what? She asked, baffled by his strange request while looking at his outstretched hands.

He explained. “Choose number one or number two, and the number you select will mean which way we go… left or right,” he wiggled his left hand’s fingers followed by his right.

“Ah, it’s a game of chance,” interrupted Phyllis.

“I see what you mean,” added Belinda as she gave his question some thought. “I choose number one.”

“Right, we go left then,” he quickly stated.

Both women looked to each other, wondering about the right and left remarks, not absolutely certain they
fully understood what Scott meant. However, it sounded as if they were to go left, according to what they thought he meant.

The illumination in the tunnel was obvious, but there didn’t seem to be any
apparent source. Their passage was lit and should anything evil come their way they would at least see it before it struck them, he hoped.

Jupiter was on the starboard side of the Grey ship as it passed close-by, with Mars still just a bright-red coloured dot in the
dark distance. The ship that was supposed to appear hadn’t, so the commander was by now absolutely convinced the blip on the detection system
had
been the ship after all. His command to increase speed was instantly obeyed. Jupiter quickly faded into the distance and Mars was getting much brighter and bigger by the second.

The submarine maintained its secret progress, silently screwing its way through the cold and forbidding seawater, much like a torpedo running its predetermined track towards
an unsuspecting target. With no apparent signature or source of heat while leaving very little disturbance in its wake, this vessel wasn’t telling anyone where it was or where it was heading. The Grey base was aware of its gradual approach, while the submarine was ignorant of the base in the deepest basin between the southern continents. Who would have guessed there might be members of a technologically advanced civilisation living at the bottom of an ocean between Africa and South America? Certainly not this crew!

The perfectly round tunnel wasn’t very
good at accommodating the likes of humans as the usual commuters were only child-sized creatures. The three rescuers had to bow their heads to avoid scraping the roof while forced to walk in single-file, well aware their little environmental tools might be at risk if damaged. The walls and roof felt amazingly smooth to Scott’s hands as he played them across the surfaces while beginning their journey of discovery.

“It feels like glass,” he exclaimed in surprise, adding. “The tunnel must have been cut with tremendous heat or something similar.”

It was Phyllis who gave him the answer. “It’s done by laser, which leaves the tunnel smooth by melting then vaporising the quartz rock.”

He continued his progress while enjoying the glassy sensation of smoothness on the palms of his hands. “This is an impressive piece of engineering,” he said. “The walls look solid enough to withstand earthquakes.”

“They do,” added Belinda. “The volcano called Olympus Mons is close enough to probably shake the ground with frequent tremors.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve heard about that volcano. It’s a big un, if I remember rightly?” Having said that, he wondered how close they were to it and might they be at risk.

“There’s no risk, Scott,” stated Phyllis with a reassuring tone to her voice. “We’re far enough away from any volcanic activity. And anyway, this tunnel system’s been here a long time and it’s undamaged, isn’t it?”

With a look of relief, he said, “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get going then, we’re probably behind schedule.”

With that said, he set off along the tunnel with his two companions following close behind. The floor was a collage of little footprints, most of which had been overstepped by others, with the most recent going in the direction they were headed. His thoughts were they might even catch the little beggars if they went too quickly, choosing to continue at the same rate of speed but with his eyes peeled and ears listening for any sign or sound ahead.

After about an hour’s march, another door appeared, and, unlike the first, this one was fully open. They cautiously approached the opening, trying to be both silent and small. Having reached the door
’s frame, Scott spotted an array of lights along the upper beam. They resembled small white LED’s that were extremely bright. He picked up a handful of fine dust and cast it into the doorway. A multitude of light-beams showed themselves, proving there was no way to pass through without breaking any. Turning to face his fellow explorers, he asked, “Do either of you know the function of these lights?”

Squeezing past him, both women moved as close to the lights as they dare without touching the
m.

“We think it is part of a surveillance system, installed to monitor movement through the tunnel. Whether it’s part of a security network or to automatically control lights, doors or life support systems, remains to be seen,” suggested Belinda having
already discussed the lights and its configuration with Phyllis.

“
Hmm,” hummed Scott as he considered the reply. “Whatever it is, we have to pass through and there’s no way of avoiding the damned things.”

“Then whoever is monitoring the system will know there are three of us in the tunnel,” stated Phyllis with a concerned look.

He returned his attention to the lights, recognising they only looked up and downwards. He wondered about the theory behind the surveillance. He understood they couldn’t pass without being detected so they might instead be able to fool the system into believing there was only one body going through instead of three. He knew he was right.

“OK,” he stated loudly, before he apologised for raising his voice. I have a master plan to fool the silly buggers at the other end of these lights.”

Both women once again looked to the other for a translation to his words. There were times when his sentence structure or phraseology just didn’t make much sense to either of them. It was recognised by them both, that in the fullness of time they would probably learn to understand the correct meaning of his pronounced words, but how much time was needed was impossible to fathom. The reference to, ‘
the silly buggers at the other end of the lights
,’ completely confused them.

“There’s no-one at the other end of the lights, Scott. They’re mounted into the rock and are connected by in-line circuitry.” Phyllis gave him her own explanation while trying to work out exactly what he had meant.

Hearing her explanation, he bit his bottom lip in embarrassed thought before saying, “Is that what I said?”

“Yes,” was the quick reply from both women
in unison.

“I’ve done it again, haven’t I? I do try not to say these things, which obviously baffles you. I am so sorry
; really I am.”

Raising a hand in front of his mouth, before inhaling air so hard it could be heard rushing through his fingers, he added, “That’s what I meant to say, that the lights are part of a circuit and the little Grey buggers at the receiving end will know we are here.”

“We think we know now,” Belinda said to a relieved Scott.

“Okay-dokay then, we’ve finally got that muddle settled,” he added to further confuse the situation, although by the reference to the okay part with a rhyming word following on, they felt certain it was a
lso a form of comic slang.

“Please try to speak proper words, Scott. We get confused by some of the things you say.”

“Sure, OK. I’ll do my very best from now on,” he promised with his right hand placed over his heart to help convince the ladies he was telling the truth.

“Anyway,” he continued. “As I was saying, or trying to in a round-about sort of way… , if we could fool the system into believing there’s only one
individual in our group instead of three, that would be a definite advantage for us.”