Alien Deception (10 page)

"It's as if this is all being arranged," she said with sudden cognizance. Her fear appeared to wane slightly with this newfound theory, but even this brought about another barrage of unanswered questions.

"Now, the next logical question would be, by whom?" Greg said. They pondered the question in silence, gazing around the room, searching the faces of the images that shared the space with them.

"Do you think there is a real, well—person among them, or are they all just images?" Sarah asked as she continued to peer around the room.

Greg shrugged his shoulders. "We could go up to each one of them and tap their shoulders until we found one that was solid," he suggested. Sarah shook her head at this idea.

While they were debating this idea, the sound of footsteps came from behind them. They turned in that direction simultaneously. A man appeared, seemingly from nowhere. Judging by his dress, Greg assumed he was the bartender. His red-and-white striped vest and black bow tie made him appear as if he belonged in a barbershop quartet.

They both stared at the man and followed him with their eyes as he headed toward them. He stopped mid-way to check his bow tie in the mirror, tugging at both ends to ensure it was tied tightly and was level under his chin. He patted his blond hair, which appeared to be coated with oil or something. Finally satisfied, he winked at himself in the mirror, smiled and continued toward them.

He stepped up to the opposite side of the bar, taking his place as bartender. He removed a rag from underneath the counter and began to wipe the surface in a circular pattern for several seconds as he hummed a tune in a deep tenor. He replaced the rag back under the counter, and then lay down two crisp white napkins on the bar in front of them.

Greg and Sarah stared, stupefied, wondering if the bartender was real or not. All the other images had pretty much ignored them up to this point. As the bartender continued to hum his tune, the two of them stared at one another, waiting for something to happen, or someone to speak. Sarah motioned to Greg with her hand, indicating that he should try to touch this figure as he had done earlier. He shook his head and pointed at her, clearly indicating that it was her turn.

Resigning herself, she sighed, and began to reach toward the bartender's red-striped shoulder when, suddenly, he smiled at them and spoke.

"Can I get you folks something?" he asked, startling them. "So, what will it be?" he continued, smiling congenially at Sarah. "We have a special tonight, ladies drink free," he said tipping an empty glass toward her. Seeing her look of disdain, he continued, "How about a Shirley Temple or something? Contains no alcohol at all. Glass of soda, perhaps?"

No luck there either so he turned toward Greg, smiling the same congenial smile and offered, "How about a beer for you, sir? Best draft anywhere. That's your favorite, isn't it?"

Neither of them said anything and they continued to simply stare at this new addition to their dream. Greg had to admit this surprise interaction had caught them both completely off-guard.

Sarah suddenly poked Greg in the ribs, hoping the bartender didn't notice. He looked toward her, befuddled. She motioned him to move away from the bar. Fearing another jab, he responded promptly.

"Would you, uh, well, uh, excuse us for a minute?" he stammered to the bartender, as they backed a few steps away from the bar.

"Take your time," the bartender said, still smiling, "We have…some time."

Sarah directed him to a small table in the corner of the bar. She motioned him to sit by her. She leaned closer and whispered, "What do you think we should do?"

"Hell, I don't know, Sarah." He saw her earlier calmness and enthusiasm drain from her face. Seeing her look of distress, he continued more assuredly. "I guess it wouldn't do any harm to talk to him. What do we have to lose? Maybe we can get some information from him."

She glanced back over her shoulder at the bartender, and then turned back to Greg and whispered, "Do you think he is real?"

Greg touched her shoulder gently. "Sarah, at this point, I don't know what is real and what isn't anymore…except for you. But I am going to check him out before we go any further." Then, with obvious concern for her, he asked, "Okay? You up to this?"

"Sure, let's go," she said, determined. "I just wish this whole nightmare were over and done with, so that I could wake up in my comfortable bed. I'm ready for another normal workday in my nice 'real' office with 'real' people…like you."

Greg smiled and reached for her hand as they slowly made their way back to the bar.

Reluctantly releasing Sarah's hand, he offered his to the bartender, smiling carefully. "Excuse me, we haven't introduced ourselves. My name is Greg, and this is Sarah."

The bartender took Greg's outstretched hand, returning the gesture. Greg squeezed the man's hand slowly, gradually increasing his grip. His hand met warm, firm flesh. It left no doubt in his mind that the bartender was real. He nodded toward Sarah, hoping she would catch his meaning. She did, and smiled slightly.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Greg, and you, too, Sarah," the bartender said, releasing Greg's hand. He then lightly grasped Sarah's hand and shook it as well. "The name is Leumas."

"Okay," Greg began, feeling a surge of confidence that even surprised him. "Now that the introductions are over, Mister Leumas, and you seem to be a flesh-and-blood person and not an image, who the hell are you?"

Before Leumas had a chance to reply, Greg continued, "And don't tell me you're just the bartender and you just work here." Then, with a sarcastic edge to his voice, he added, "And by the way, while you're at it, how about explaining where exactly here is."

Leumas sighed. "I can see this is going to take a while," he said as he looked from Greg to Sarah. Tipping a glass toward them again, he asked, "Are you sure you two don't want to have a drink before I begin explaining all this? You may need one."

Greg's anger mellowed at the offer of the beer, which seemed a nice gesture.
Lord knows, I could sure use something to drink,
he thought. He nodded toward Leumas. "Well, if you insist." Then, quickly embarrassed by his rudeness, he turned to Sarah. "Would you like something?"

Sarah shook her head, not looking at him. He thought she was probably wondering how he could be thinking of drinking at a time like this.

"If I were you, Sarah,” Greg began, “I'd have a drink, because I think it's going to get kind of deep in here in a few moments."

"I'll have a glass of water," she said quickly.

Leumas turned away from them and busied himself, humming the same tune he had earlier. In a few moments, he placed two glasses on the napkins in front of them.

"The floor is all yours," Greg said to Leumas, taking a large gulp of beer.

"Thank you, Greg," Leumas began, rubbing his hands together. "Let me start by introducing myself again." He pointed at his chest, and continued. "As I mentioned earlier, my name is Leumas. No mister, just Leumas. I am part of an organization…that tends to the welfare of other organizations, you might say. As to where here is, that is a two-part answer." He looked each of them in the eye. "But, for now, I will answer your question by stating that you are presently in a form of virtual simulation."

"And why exactly are we in a virtual simulation?" Sarah asked with a hint of skepticism, then nervously sipped her water.

Leumas, sensing her doubt, spoke in his most professional tone. "We, that is, the organization that I represent and myself, felt that this would be the best method to use in this particular situation based upon the customs and rituals of your people. I guess you can say that it lends a sense of familiarity, or common ground. This allows room for an open discussion. Subsequently, this eases us into an introduction of the information that I have to share with you and—"

"Cut the crap, Leumas," Greg cut him off. "If you haven't noticed, Sarah and I are tired, frustrated and want some real answers. Tell us the whole truth, straight up and right now!" Sarah nodded in agreement.

"Please, Greg, Sarah, let's not rush into anything," Leumas said, waving his hands, trying to calm them. "These things need to be done slowly and in a manner that is comfortable to you both. To rush into this may lead to irrecoverable complications. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. I have been doing this for quite a while."

He straightened and grinned, back in his bartender role again, "How about another drink, folks? Would you like some peanuts or something? I would be more than happy to get something for you."

"Now, Leumas!" Greg shouted.

Leumas exhaled in frustration as he looked at them, shaking his head. Then he came out from behind the bar and sat on a stool next to them. In a resigned voice, he continued.

"Okay, as you wish. Here goes nothing. Where shall I begin? Okay…" he mused with his finger under his chin. "Let's start with when you were both dead, well, temporarily dead." He tried to smile but, getting nothing but blank looks in return, he continued. "Then we brought you back to life. All your people back on Earth, I mean in your home towns, thought you both had actually died, you know, well, in freak accidents."

They both began to interrupt, but Leumas held up a halting hand, and then offered, "A logical question at this point would be why have we done this? Well, we did it because we need you two in our organization." He paused. "More on that later. In answer to your other question about where you are, you are four point three light years from Earth, on a planet in the star system of Alpha Centauri, called Zire."

They suddenly became slack-jawed, gaping. Greg spewed out a mouth full of beer. Sarah's glass of water crashed to the floor.

Leumas continued, trying to ignore their reactions. "And, yes, I am actually what you people would consider an alien. However, I look amazingly like you humans except for these," he said as he held up his hands showing them the webbing between he fingers.

He turned toward the mirror, patting his slick hair. Then, turning toward them again, he pointed. "But don't get too comfortable with the idea that everyone in the organization looks human, because a lot of my associates, well, they, uh…don't." Leumas leaned on the bar, and looked at them seriously. "If you think back to a dream you had a little while ago, the implanted memory waves in your brains will release additional information about the organization to which I belong. It is called the United Council of Developing Worlds or the UCDW or just Council, for short." He paused and poured himself a drink from a bottle that contained an odd-looking pink substance. He sipped it and continued. "Well, as the phrase goes, you know what I know. Any questions?"

Sarah and Greg continued to stare with gaping mouths at him, unable to utter a sound at his question. Then, virtually simultaneously, they both dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Leumas stared at the still figures on the floor, shaking his head. "Humans! Always in a hurry. See, you should have listened to me."

Chapter Nine

WHOOPS…THERE GOES ANOTHER ALIEN

Biom carefully slipped out of the control room during the confusion he had caused by tampering with Leumas’ assimilation program on the two Earth humans. He searched his memory, trying to picture the layout of the facility, looking frantically for a terminal that could be used to transmit the data Copolla wanted. He finally located an unused wing of the building that contained the terminal he needed. He loaded the crystal data disk and began transmission of his report detailing the sabotage and its results.

He chuckled as he thought about the reaction Leumas’ two subjects were having right at this moment. His subdued laughter caused the rolls of skin that layered his body to shake and quiver. The additional layering of skin was a protective coating from his home world, where the sun's light was very intense.

Talk about being mentally screwed up! That's putting it mildly. Those two aren't going to know what's real and what's not after my tampering with the sensitive indoctrination sequence and raising additional doubt in their minds. With this increased doubt, the process will become much more complicated. Leumas is going to have to work a long time to straighten that mess out, if he can at all.

The orders from Copolla had been quite specific. The words echoed in his mind in the same tone in which they'd been spoken, reminding him of the price of failure.

"Do what you have to do, Biom. Any hopes you have of aspiring to any position with the Council depends on your success," Copolla had told him. He remembered, shuddering, the cold red eyes that stared into his as Copolla had continued. "Leumas must be stopped. Do whatever it takes. But I don't want him physically harmed. Just ensure his attempts with the Earth subjects result in failure."

Biom had been in Leumas’ service for only a short period. He had been studying at the Zirean University, a student of high promise in the field of computers and artificial intelligence, when an ugly incident threatened to cause his expulsion under less than honorable circumstances. Then one day, he was approached by a life form named Journo that worked for Copolla. The alien offered to help him out of the sticky situation in which he found himself. Cheating on an exam was a serious offense and, not having any other options available, he went along.

The University mysteriously and very quietly cleared him of any wrongdoing in the incident. Copolla's agent wasted no time in requesting his services for a matter of the utmost urgency that required his special talents. Further, it was a Council matter and the request could not be refused. When Biom tried, he was informed that certain illegal documents had been obtained with his handwriting on them that would easily implicate his wrongdoing and reverse what had been done to exonerate him.

Copolla's agent, Journo, was very thorough and arranged for Biom to be planted flawlessly inside Leumas’ organization. Computer records were altered, life forms were bribed to vouch for his character to ensure his acceptance, and it was all bought with Copolla's money.