An Alien Rescue (47 page)

“They are in another wing of the base, a place much deeper than here where there is a cryogenic laboratory and storage facilities.”

Belinda felt they were finally getting somewhere. Phyllis’s hands were repaired and they were on track to locating their friends.
The mission could be a success if all goes well
, she thought. The Grey turned to write more. Belinda read what he’d written and the smile of success seemed to fade. Scott saw it, so did Phyllis. She turned around, opened her mouth to say something, pausing before falling silent. Expecting to hear something important, then nothing but a blank look, Scott approached Belinda and placed a hand on her shoulder, saying, “What’s happened? What’s changed?”

She tried to smile, but couldn’t bring herself to. Phyllis came to her aid, recognising the sadness that seemed to protrude from every pore on Belinda’s body. “Please try to tell us what’s happened, if you can?”

Belinda looked at the floor as if trying to piece together a statement or an explanation. Her companions were becoming impatient; they felt they must know what heart-stopping information was passed over. And at the same time, they didn’t really wish to hear the news that had caused her to look so sad. Scott knew it must be connected to his lover and her pilot, and god help them all if they have harmed them or worse. Belinda looked to meet their inquisitive eyes, not giving anything away with her own, until she said, “Frell has lost your child.”

Both Scott and Phyllis took a large intake of breath with neither blinking or saying anything. Belinda added, “The freezing program didn’t allow for the spontaneous fusing of sperm and egg and subsequent mitotic division to happen. The end result was the zygote that would have become a foetus was ultimately destroyed. It no longer exists. I am so sorry, Scott.”

During the time they had been together, fighting their way through the Martian tunnels, dropping the Grey clones like nine-pins to the loudest and thunderous rap music from the end of an AK-47 barrel, stealing the Grey ship and entering the base by coercive means, he firmly believed there was either another baby on the way or it had already been born. But this news had shattered his dream and given him a reason to go on another killing spree. He never commented or said anything to everyone’s surprise. He just wished Frell and Drang were well. The Grey was aware of what the information he had passed on meant, but being a clone without compassion he found it impossible to share any sort of grief with the man who was clenching his fists until they shook and changed colour to red, like his face.

Phyllis felt for Scott, as did Belinda, but the mission needed to
continue. Phyllis stood directly in front of him, placing a forearm on one shoulder in a way as not to disturb her hand. She spoke softly, with compassion in her voice, “There will be lots of opportunities to make more babies with Frell, Scott.”

He thought about the idea and it pleased him. The very thought of making love to Frell again would be like a dream come true;
if only it could happen
, he thought. Belinda saw his anxiety before the smile; she knew what he was thinking. She couldn’t help but smile too, feeling a slight bit of envy at Frell’s good fortune to be paired with Scott.

The Grey wrote again. The two captives were not far away, but the route would take them close to the nerve centre of the base. Belinda replied
, writing on the screen, asking if there was another way of gaining access to the area where their friends were detained.

No
, he wrote. She turned around, telling Scott and Belinda what she had learned. Scott removed his revolver, checking the barrel spun freely, preparing to face unknown numbers.

“How many Greys are there in the base? He asked.

Belinda turned and wrote Scott’s question. The Grey read the query and answered, forty, including himself. “I don’t have that many bullets,” he stated, looking at Belinda’s holster, knowing their salvation and the mission’s success could be reliant on her use of it. She interpreted his eyes and the look, saying, “Do not worry, I will not let any of us down. If it comes to them or us, it’ll be us who will win; I promise you.”

Scott gave her a wink, hinting he knew. She assumed that was the message he was conveying by closing one eye in such a manner. She tried to do the same, but only managed to blink with both eyes. He gave a little laugh at her attempt to copy him. Phyllis was still preoccupied with her own progress to follow what the others were up to. She knew if there was anything important for her to know they would. The Grey stood perfectly still, observing the humans at close quarters. They really did resemble basic primates, he mused. The body hair created a sense of revulsion within him, especially that on the male’s face, a feeling he had never known before. He had seen the dead remains of humans, where the bodies would float unhindered within the fluid-filled tanks, drifting in their carefree posture. Their hair would flow
gently, as if made of soft fibres. He found it particularly difficult to look at the man, almost as if he might resort to the violent nature he had inherited from his primeval ancestors. The Grey Empire went to great lengths to show recorded moments from Earth’s history, most of it concerning war and death. The earliest recordings were made when humans resembled their ape cousins, living in caves and fighting each other for supremacy. Hardly anything has changed, he concluded by Scott’s appearance and violence. The killing instinct is still very prevalent, he evaluated, registering the need to keep away from him as much as possible. He continued to stand still, silently watching the apelike creatures draw-up their plans. Then he made his own, a small flicker of an idea focussed within his mind. If he could lead them to their friends, then capture the entire group together, his collaboration could be excused as his valuable contribution to detaining the infiltrating humans. His participation of their activities would be forgiven as he had the best intensions of the Empire in mind. He would not only be allowed to survive the ordeal, but might also find favour among the elite. The idea pleased him as his own plan began to evolve.

Belinda wrote more. She asked if they could be taken to the area where their friends were kept prisoner. The Grey wondered about the word she used, they were not prisoners. The two humans were held in frozen suspension, they were not guarded, therefore, her assumption they were prisoners was quite incorrect. They were detained, forever, but not imprisoned. He almost replied with his thoughts, but reversed the desire to correct the female’s mistake. There was absolutely nothing to be gained by it, he equated. He wrote again. He would lead the way, using his hands when necessary to communicate with them. She nodded her understanding and indicated with one hand they were ready to follow. He turned and headed for the closed door, followed closely by Belinda. Scott ushered Phyllis to stay close to him, forever mindful she was still subject to the operation’s effects. She was careful not to allow anything to touch her hands,
the successful completion of the surgery relied upon her ability to follow the instructions regarding non-contact. She could hardly wait to see her new and complete pilot’s hands.

The sound of opening doors dragged her mind back to the present. Scott beckoned her to hurry and follow. “We’re off to find Frell and Drang,” he said smiling. She smiled in return.
It is definitely going to be a good day today, if all goes according to plan
, she thought with an even greater smile.

They were once again in the well-lit corridor, close to where Scott had
initially grabbed the grey.
If he’s going to make a run for it, it’ll be about now
, Scott inwardly thought while tensing himself to outrun him. They passed the doorway where the grey had appeared without any trouble, continuing toward the corridor’s end. Another door opened, initiated by their presence. They waited briefly, ready to respond should anyone step through. No one appeared. The grey indicated with the use of his hands that they should proceed quietly. Stepping inside, the almost apprehensive Grey led the way.

The
women followed Scott, almost tripping over his heels, while he was well within arm’s reach of their so-called guide. Scott wanted the little guy to understand that
his
rear
was
being watched – by them all and no quarter would be given should he try and escape.

A hand was held high to
halt their progress. The Grey didn’t need to turn and check if his followers had seen his signal or not, the sound of their breathing was close enough and Scott’s perspiration was extremely evident.

They waited to see why he had stopped. Scott was first to hear
faint but sharply defined clicking sounds. It sounded like a pencil-point tapping a desk or table, as if there might be an office up ahead with some pissed-off pencil pusher in revolt. The grey motioned forward a couple of paces, being extremely cautious about making any sound. He still never looked behind him. His mind was calculating how he must get the humans into the cryogenic cell before he could alert the base to their presence. Should they be captured before he had any opportunity to inform the others he would be seen as a collaborator and destroyed by being ejected into the ocean’s abyss. At such a depth the pressure would crush his body in less than a microsecond, his remains feeding the detritus scavengers that existed as part of its eco system.

Their vigilance was heightened with the
continuous tapping, each wondering what was making them. Moving ahead slowly, the Grey finally turned and beckoned his entourage to follow. A blind person wouldn’t have heard the quartet as they stealthily moved along one behind the other, such was their silence. Ahead, there appeared an open door, one that led into a smaller corridor with others leading off from either side. With lots of small corridors there might be a small army hiding in them, waiting to pounce as soon as their attention was diverted, Scott suspected. However, he also suspected paranoia was kicking in and he should just accept the presented facts and respond to anything that happened instead of being extra tensed for what might happen. He relaxed a little, taking comfort in their passing of the first door without any fuss or commotion. Once all the doors were behind them, their pace quickened and the clicking sound soon faded. The corridor turned and twisted a few times, which for Scott meant good news. It meant their presence would be more difficult to ascertain by a straightforward line of sight. It had only taken about thirty minutes to make the journey from the lab to the door of the Cryogenic Cell, as Belinda called it from the translated nameplate situated above the door where they all stood.

“Are our friends in there?” asked Scott.

Belinda muttered something barely audible.

The Grey
curtly nodded.

“Yes,” Belinda replied.

“Then what are we waiting for?” he asked impatiently. His lover and goddess of a woman was behind this door and he wanted it opened soonest.

Belinda uttered a few more words to the Grey, to which he used his hands to indicate the door could only be opened from the control room. He tapped his head to inform her he would need to communicate with those in charge to get the door opened. She didn’t exactly understand him
the first time around, but she did after his second attempt. Having watched the Grey waving and flapping his arms around him while using what he considered sign language, his long bony limbs reminded Scott of archaeopteryx’s fossilised wings. Scott imagined the grey would be quite useless at playing the game, charades.

Without consulting
with the others, she gave him her personal go-ahead to communicate. His message was brief and concise, with no reason given why he needed the doors opened, but it must have been good enough for they opened at once. Scott was taken completely by surprise, hearing the telepathic message without being informed. The surprise had delayed Scott grabbing him by the throat, because to have interrupted the message would have been disastrous. If the communication had ended before its completion or as some form of gurgling garbage, the grey would have drawn a bit of a crowd to their present position and the doors would have remained firmly closed. Belinda was prepared for Scott to react, ready to step between them. “It was the only way,” she insisted, when Scott had asked.

He threw her a sarcastic look following her reply, suggesting he would have understood her reasoning anyway.

She too thought sarcastically.
Yes! Right! Of course you would have… As if!
She astounded herself by her own sarcastic thoughts. Thinking in such a way was unknown for her or her kind. She must make a mental note of this for her debriefing. While in the company of Earth humans for as long as she has, there seems to be some sort of language exchange taking place - where style, habits and expressions are unwittingly passed over too. She would be in a better position to be passed-off as an Earth locked human after this mission is completed. She was aware of others from her colony that lived and operated on the planet, wondering if they too had been affected in the same way. And if they had, their eventual return would be made more difficult when they had to readapt.
If
they returned, she thought. She also imagined they might even live and die on the planet, thereby retaining their cover throughout, leaving their homely base to those who would follow.

T
hey all stepped through the newly opened door, which had been in darkness as they approached. Lights brightened as they entered. It was a cold blue illumination that met their eyes, something that screamed there was no warmth to be enjoyed here, only cold to be suffered. Scott spun around on his heels, trying to find his lover. The ladies did the same, with each being disappointed by the absence of bodies.