Hybrid - Forced Vengeance (13 page)

“Fuck you, Ross!” Releasing the curse did feel better. “Breathe this.” Phelps pressed the trigger of his weapon. Ross and the soldiers involuntarily flinched as his M-16 roared to life. Bullets impacted the wall, causing distortions and impact creases, but the wall held firm. He fired another burst but stopped when several bullets ricocheted off the wall.

His outburst was endangering both himself and Gray. Phelps looked at the colonel with contempt. He didn’t regret his choice; he only regretted lost opportunities – the things in life he would never experience.

Chapter 10: Gestation Day 41

Gray partially recovered from the electrical torture. The water that Phelps had forced into the fragile alien’s body had replenished his flesh but the alien was severely weakened. If Phelps hadn’t intervened, Gray knew his life would already be over.

Gray sensed the reduced pressure in the chamber; they were being suffocated. He did not wish to die, nor did he wish to see his noble friend expire. His desperation triggered a plan. He focused his remaining will upon the colonel, not really knowing if his mind could generate the power to project through the barrier as he had before.

Human! Stop this! I will comply!

“Turn on the circulators,” Ross barked.

Ross must have heard his message.

Gray was silent for several long seconds then he painfully walked over to where Arthur Phelps had collapsed.

Arthur, are you well?
Gray projected directly into his fallen friend.

Yes, but you can’t tell him what he wants to know. God only knows what he’ll do if they discover how your ship works.
Phelps struggled to his feet.

Arthur, do you remember what you said earlier when I showed you how to activate the distress beacon?

Yes!
Phelps nodded.

Still unsure just how far Phelps was willing to go to help him return home, Gray gambled his freedom.
Here is the ‘other way.’ The colonel can activate the beacon; all that is required is your silence.

Arthur Phelps laid a gentle hand upon the alien’s frail shoulder.

Do it! You’ve been here too long.

Gray looked at the colonel then walked over to the keypad and typed: I will have to mentally project to you the sequence of procedures. In order to do this you must lower the telekinetic shielding. I cannot penetrate the barrier save for the most rudimentary communication.

Ross and Anderson looked at each other.

“What do you think, Bill?” Ross asked his second in command.

Anderson shrugged. “Can we trust it? It’s already corrupted one of our men.”

“We still have it confined; if something goes wrong we can still contain the creature,” Ross said.

Anderson agreed. “But if it can influence all of us at once, what’s to keep it from coercing us to lower the solid barrier? It’s already showed that it can penetrate the energy screen to some degree.”

Ross walked over to the master control panel. “Observation Room, can you hear me?”

“Go ahead, sir,” a voice replied through the ceiling speakers.

“Observation Room, if the solid barrier wall in chamber two begins to lower, flood this entire compartment with nerve gas,” Ross ordered.

“Affirmative, sir,” the voice replied.

Ross looked at Anderson. “Now it will pay for deception with death.” Ross nodded at the alien. “Agreed?”

Gray typed further: One final term, Colonel Ross. Arthur goes free. He does not deserve confinement. He must be set free and go unpunished. Or you will never get into the vessel.

Ross looked at Anderson who shrugged his shoulders and raised an eyebrow.

“We take a risk lowering the plasteele wall; if this is a deception.…” Anderson let his warning hang.

“We don’t have much of a choice; we need to get Phelps out of there and get the data we want.” Ross locked his eyes on the extraterrestrial.

“Observation room!” Ross barked. “Disregard my last order and lower the plasteele barrier, on my mark. If the alien attempts to leave his cell gas the entire area.”

“Understood,” the disembodied voice replied.

Ross’s gaze continued to burn into Gray. “Agreed,” he said. “Lower the telekinetic shielding and lower the wall,” he shouted again, eager to get the information he had sought for such a long time.

Gray watched impassively as both obstacles were removed.

Go, Arthur, you have been a good friend. I thank you.

You’re sure, Gray?

There is no other way. I am confident that your colonel’s arrogance and ambition will outweigh his common sense.

* * * *

Arthur Phelps shouldered his weapon and hesitantly walked out of his confinement.

“Take his weapon,” Ross ordered then turned to Gray. “And now, alien, let’s have your part of the bargain.”

Gray focused his will on Ross and projected the identical sequence that he had projected to Arthur Phelps earlier. Ross’s mind hungrily embraced the images from the alien. After five seconds it was over, and Ross had what he thought he wanted.

The colonel looked over at Phelps.

“Raise the barrier, Sergeant Phelps. You can stay here since you’re so fond of the alien. This will be your permanent assignment along with garbage duty during your off hours. You can thank your lucky stars that I’m a man of my word; otherwise, I’d have you shot where you stand for your betrayal.” Ross tapped the control panel again. “Observation Room, I want Sergeant Phelps watched during his duty with the alien.” The colonel then added, “If he does anything else but his job, I want to know about it.”

Ross punched the access codes into the terminal near the massive titanium door. The circular doorway opened with a hiss of escaping air and the party of six men departed, leaving Phelps alone with Gray and Shanda Knight.

* * * *

Erik Knight stared out the window of his
fourth-floor suite into the dark Paris evening. His thoughts were several thousand miles away, back to a sleepy little town on the edge of nowhere, and to the diner that he called home. So much had happened in the past few days. The two attempts on Monique LaSalle had the teenager absolutely terrified, as was her father.

He stared down at his left triceps muscle where the sniper’s bullet had grazed him. The wound had completely healed seconds after the impact, but he didn’t need to share that fact with anyone – another of the many gifts that came with the Esper transformation of his body.

The detective chastised himself; he should have reacted quicker. Also he should have taken a longer look at the sniper. With his enhanced vision, he should have been able to paint a portrait of the assailant’s face.

Unfortunately he’d been too busy covering his charge. He couldn’t play offense and defense simultaneously, and right now, the enemy was forcing him to play defense.

Playing defense was not his strong suit. He specialized in offense, keeping others off balance. He wasn’t used to being on this side of the coin.

Erik spent the afternoon reviewing plans and blueprints for the upcoming party. He wasn’t sure if this whole tour should be cancelled. They were facing a fanatical group of terrorists who seemed able to strike at will.

The three other French security men shared his apprehensions. Erik had to admit, if only to himself, that the terrorists’ tactics were working. The tactical session during lunch had all the energy of a wake. The four of them had agreed that, short of searching every guest and posting sentries on every door and balcony, there would be no sure way to adequately protect Monique.

He sighed heavily and turned away from the window. It was only 9:30 p.m. and he was far from sleepy. He knew that Monique had spent the latter part of the evening having dessert and some quiet time with her mother and father, a custom that the LaSalle family engaged in at least three times a week.

He missed Shanda, and the intimate evenings they spent together. The emptiness weighed heavily upon him. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken this mission; maybe he should have given himself more time before jumping back in to all of the mystery and intrigue of a foreign assignment. Right now, more than anything in the world, he wanted to be sitting in his favorite booth, enjoying a cup of coffee and some scrambled eggs from Jeff’s kitchen, bantering with the waitresses at Madame’s.

Hybrid, you cannot despair.
A voice thundered the words inside his head.

Erik nearly jumped out of his skin.
Jakor?

It is I
. The warrior intelligence residing in his head had answered.

Erik took a deep breath; he had promised Alissa he would communicate with the warrior intellect.

I can feel the sense of defeat that weighs down your spirit. I also understand the loss that you’ve endured. I regret it has taken me so much time to study your memories and comprehend what has occurred. I offer my deepest regrets at your loss.

Erik felt the sincerity behind the mighty warrior’s words, but he still felt awkward, even after two years of having this entity inside his head.

Jakor, I was unnecessarily harsh during our last encounter.
Erik struggled to frame his thoughts
. I was devastated by Shanda’s death but that was no excuse to address you so harshly.

It is past,
Jakor answered.
I wish to offer a suggestion regarding your current situation.

Please do. We haven’t exactly covered ourselves with glory up to this point
.

You have thwarted two attempts on the young female’s life. Is that not a victory to savor? If I may be so forward as to offer an analogy from my experiences battling the Seelak. A war is not won from a defensive position. A defensive force will eventually be defeated. If your enemy refuses to come to you, and you cannot fight them on your terms, you must bring the battle to them. Become a force to which your enemy must react. In that way they will be forced to come to you; then you can set the terms. Only in this way are wars won. Sometimes an uneasy peace is preferable to a long, costly war. These were the tactics that finally allowed us victory over the Seelak.
The spirit of the Espers’ mightiest warrior went silent.

Sound advice
.
I have an idea
. Erik formulated a plan based on Jakor’s sound guidance. The part of his mind that was the Esper warrior’s essence read the thoughts as Erik’s brain formulated his strategy.

Very good.
The satisfied voice in his head complimented his efforts.
Bring the battle to your enemy; cause them fright and concern.

One other thing, Jakor.
Erik replayed the images Alissa had shown him earlier – before he left Hopedale.
Do you recognize the craft in these images?
Erik waited, sensing the other presence analyzing each fragment of the vision he had played in his head.

Your race has no name for the beings that utilize these vessels
.
They dwell in a small system at the other side of this galaxy. I cannot say why these ships are here. The race that built these is a very peaceful, but annoyingly curious species. I can only assume they have been, and are observing this planet for some time and have somehow been provoked. I cannot offer further insight without it being speculation.

Fair enough.
Erik felt Jakor’s presence fade back into the recesses of his mind but not as distant as it had been. Jakor remained, to be called upon if needed, and Erik had the feeling that the full power of his alter ego would be needed.

It was that sixth sense that told him he was stumbling into something bigger than he first realized and that feeling was never wrong.

The detective glanced at the clock on the nightstand near his bed. It was nearly ten o’clock, and he felt tired and sluggish but only in the mental sense; the physical sensation of being tired still eluded him. He had been given access to the fitness facility in the lower level of the presidential estate. Now would be a good time to utilize that privilege. The odds of somebody exercising this late in the evening were sparse. He could unwind without being observed.

He quickly changed into his workout clothes. As he reached the door, he heard the familiar drone of the sentient staff. It had gone without use long enough and wanted attention. Erik looked at the chair where he had draped his blue jeans. The staff was still entwined around the leather cowboy belt and buckle.

“Okay, I guess I could use a workout with you too,” he said, laughing as he extended his hand. “Well, c’mon you big baby.”

The staff unraveled itself from the belt and seemed to flow together into a cylindrical shape. The silver cylinder shot through the air and happily settled into its master’s outstretched hand. Once in Erik’s hand, the staff emitted a happy purr.

“Alright,” he said to the weapon, “Let’s get to the gym. It’s been some time since I’ve done this kind of exercise.”

* * * *

To be precise, Erik had not done this kind of exercise in over two years. Even in his human guise, his physical strength was far beyond the ability of a standard exercise machine to challenge. He walked over to a flat bench and methodically began stacking forty-five-pound plates onto the Olympic-style bar. When he had added about 700 pounds he laid himself down on the bench press and reached up to grab the loaded bar. He carefully lifted the weight off the bench and began pressing the barbell in a smooth, slow, vertical motion.

His body gave off no outward sign of strain as he easily performed twenty repetitions. He added four more large plates onto the bar – the maximum weight that the bar could hold. The 880 pounds of weight did little to challenge his enhanced body. Still, he repeated the process for sixty repetitions.

Jakor had assured him that his body would not weaken or atrophy as it would have if he were fully human. Still, Erik had been training for all of his adult life; it served as a great release when he had a particularly bad day or was feeling edgy.

He replaced the bar and switched to the uneven parallel bars. He leapt the twenty feet separating him from his objective, catching the upper bar with both hands and allowed his momentum to spin him under and then up around the wooden bar in a smooth circular motion. He dropped to the lower bar and did four continuous rotations, using each rotation to gather more momentum; on the apex of his fifth rotation he pushed forward, back onto the higher bar, and continued swinging. After one last rotation, he released the upper bar, the momentum of his swing launching his body into the air. He seemed to defy gravity as he enacted several twists and loops before executing a landing that would make any gymnast green with envy.