An Alien Rescue (45 page)

Shaking his head in disbelief, Scott said perplexingly, “Why the fuck don’t these stupid Grey bastards use small doors instead of huge monsters like this? What’s the point?”

The women didn’t share their thoughts, but they agreed nonetheless.

Beyond the door was what looked like a laboratory or something straight out of Dr Frankenstein’s
Castle? There were two massive tubes and various smaller containers, lots of flashing lights and discharging lightning bolts that zapped between two silver electrodes. With a soft sound of bubbling and the vicious cracks of electricity that almost hurt his ears Scott tried sticking his fingers into his ears. It didn’t have much of an effect at softening the noise so gave up trying. Combined while the powerful smell of ozone and some sort of chemical, it was a picture of insanity at its best. He gave the little Grey an enormous push forward, moving him into the room and further away from the door. Belinda approached the Grey from behind with Scott still hanging onto his scrawny neck. She told the grey to close the door immediately, or else!” No sooner had she said it, it was closing. Phyllis moved ahead of everyone, oblivious to what the others were doing behind her. She initially moved rapidly, then ever so cautiously after she spied a platform like an altar with a pair of large metal tubes, one on either side and big enough to take a person in each. She wondered if this might be the apparatus that could replace her hands. She looked down at them, almost crying with sadness as she saw the stumps of fingers with red and blackened wounds. She had been born with these hands and they had served her well. They had been in perfect condition until the small orb had backfired and blown them apart. She allowed her arms to fall by her sides, unwilling to look at them again. She really wished the accident had never happened, but happen it had. She was left with no choice now whatsoever, they had to be replaced or she would never be able to continue as a ship’s co-ordinator any more. The decision was made, it had to be done. Her human colony didn’t have the ability or the technology to do it, and those who did probably wouldn’t help without persuasion.

Even though the colony to which she belonged were accepted by the members of the Council, few would actually give help if and when required. Across the cosmos, humans were seen as a blight, even by incredibly intelligent species from distant systems. The colony might be able to travel extensively across space, but the help and assistance provided by other species’ was limited in order to persuade them to stay within their unofficially dictated boundaries. It had gone unwritten that humans were tolerated as long as they didn’t pose a threat to the rest of inhabited space, which, for this reason, humans on their planet were cursed for trying to expand their knowledge of space travel and interstellar exploration. The simple and basic voyager spacecraft that left the solar system while carrying a disk of announcement and an invitation to visit was now trapped on the surface near the Council of Six’s headquarters. It was hermetically sealed and enclosed within a vacuum sphere, prohibiting any from gaining access and anything from escaping. The security measures were quite uncalled for as no species with any amount of intelligence would consider entering the structure as it might be riddled with harmful viruses and bacteria, which humans were acquainted with. The blue planet could have been a utopia but for
the presence of the human species who existed upon it and had set about destroying it through stupid greed, selfishness and malevolence. As for the colony, they were being kept as a failsafe mechanism in case the humans on Earth destroyed themselves or contaminated their DNA beyond recovery, so the original organism could be restored. And should the human species on Earth manage to successfully get itself into a peaceful and resourceful community where one people, one vision arrived, they could also be used as points of first contact, ambassadors on behalf of the Council - although that opportunity wasn’t ever expected to happen. Humans were classified as unfriendly, unruly, untrusting, unworthy and grossly unhealthy. There was no place for them in space.

The
Grey indicated he wanted Phyllis to lie on the altar. Scott gave his neck another squeeze to remind him if anything went wrong he wouldn’t be able to kiss his arse goodbye because his head would be missing. The Grey seemed to change colour to a much lighter shade as Scott’s violent intensions began to sink in. Scott wasn’t a nasty guy by any means, but when his companions were threatened, and while Frell and Drang were locked in ice, he would tear the head off any shoulders without hesitation or regret. While the rest of intelligent space saw humans as filth, he saw Greys’ as murderous, abducting, scheming little bastards who wouldn’t be missed if they became extinct.

Phyllis was already climbing on to the altar-like structure. She hoped she wasn’t about to be used as a sacrificial lamb to any Grey deity, of which there were many
, she knew. As her body lay flat and her head rested, a globe with millions of needles lowered itself from directly above. It wasn’t suspended by any obvious means; it just sort of hung there. Neither woman seemed surprised by such a device, which seemed to reassure Scott. One of the tubes tipped over before sliding horizontally to surround the altar that levitated itself off the floor, with Phyllis lying quite still. Belinda motioned across to the Grey and told him about the case containing their preferred donor, quoting its whereabouts and the name of the woman. The Grey listened carefully before programming a set of co-ordinates into a control panel. The tube that now surrounded Phyllis became cloudy, with a bluish haze circulating within. The globe was almost touching the tube and thin lines of plasma crackled between the two. No sound came from Phyllis, nothing said or screamed. Scott found the silence restful and hoped all was well. To help persuade the Grey that his word was to be believed, Scott released his grip. The freed individual allowed a sound that could have been one of relief or joy to escape its mouth, while it looked towards his releasing captor, giving a nod of approval or thanks. Scott held up his right hand and clenched his fist tightly, as if to say,
fuck with us and I’ll ring your fucking neck
! The grey colour never fully returned after that little exhibition by Scott, when by all accounts it looked as if it might have following his release. Belinda understood what the grey was already considering. The fact he was already in the presence of three humans, with physical contact and close proximity impossible to conceal from its masters, his fate was already sealed. The Empire would isolate him, debrief him on his experiences and knowledge of those who had assaulted him, while preparing to destroy him immediately afterwards. There was no way his presence would be allowed to enter into the Grey system again. He had seen and heard too much, been exposed to the diseases they might carry while complying with their requests to save himself instead of putting the Empire first. The Grey himself wondered if there might be some sort of sanctuary within the Council of Six for a member of the Empire who assisted humans from the unearthly colony. This was an unprecedented thought by a Grey, a first for all time, but he couldn’t tell the group by telepathy what he was considering. Others could pick up the conversation, which would endanger any devised plan. His ability to speak was practically non-existent so the only other option open to him was writing. But, unfortunately for him, there were no materials available and time was running out. The body of Amelia Earhart arrived within its case. It entered the laboratory through an aperture in the wall to one side of the group, steadily floating a few inches above the floor. It approached the altar, stopping alongside. The second tube rotated to surround the case. It too started with a cloudy blue coloured haze circulating within it.

“How long will the process take?” asked Scott, scratching his head nervously.

Belinda had no idea, so turned to ask the Grey. The reply was telepathic. Both Belinda and Scott responded. Belinda held her head with her hands as if to say,
holy shit, he might be heard.
While Scott just grabbed him by the throat. The Grey would have screamed in horror knowing what he had done if Scott wasn’t already compressing his trachea with an iron grip.

“Scott!” cried, Belinda. “You must not kill him!”

“Why the flaming hell shouldn’t I?”

“Because Phyllis is undergoing treatment and we need him to complete the operation and to locate Frell and Drang, that’s flaming hell why!”

Scott looked at the Grey hanging limp in his hand with feet dangling in the air, wanting nothing less than complete destruction for the entire species; and yet he knew Belinda was correct in what she said. Scott opened his hand, allowing the Grey to drop to the floor like a broken toy. It lay in a heap like a bundle of soggy laundry. Scott raised a foot to give him a kick.

“Don’t, Scott. He has had enough punishment for one lifetime.”

Scott paused before placing his foot back down again. “Yeah, I suppose he has, the poor bastard.”

“Yes, he well and truly has,” Belinda agreed with him as she stooped to check if he was still alive.

“Mmm, it’s better than he deserves for keeping Frell and Drang captive,” he said while watching her checking for signs of life.

“We are lucky,” she said with a smile. “He’s
OK.”

“Nah,” insisted Scott. “He’s the lucky one. He’s lucky you stopped me from removing his head.”

“Sometimes,” Belinda said while running her hands down across her face in despair. “Sometimes you can be
too
human.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” he answered with a frown as if she had just insulted him.

“Humans can be so aggressive, Scott, and it’s all because our species was accelerated through its evolving development. But it’s something that all humans must overcome by themselves and by special selection.”

He regretted his animal-like behaviour, ashamed of the feelings of murder he had felt. With a large exhaled sigh, combined with a sheepish look, he apologised for his misguided intent, nodding in agreement, stopp
ing abruptly as the
special
comment hit home. “Eh, what do you mean by
special
selection?”

“I mean by preventing those with genetically flawed genes from passing them to off-spring.”

Scott saw the implications of what she was saying but decided not to query them. The group were already on borrowed time and one of their team was undergoing a serious operation to replace her hands. Then there was Frell and Drang to think of as well; so there was more than enough to think about without entering into any sort of in-depth discussion concerning humans with genetic disorders whose DNA shouldn’t be passed to future generations. He readily agreed with what Belinda was inferring, but now simply wasn’t the time to talk about it.

“Yeah, you’re right, absolutely.” He stepped a little closer to the tubes where the two operations were progressing, listening to the sound of static electricity cracking away. The blue flashes were increasing steadily, with a much higher sizzling frequency. The Grey stirred and moved slightly. He turned over and seemed to un
wrap himself from looking like a bundle.

Belinda didn’t follow up with her conversation starter; she allowed it to pass after he agreed with her. She hoped he wouldn’t fall foul of the aggressi
on again. The Grey stirred once more, placing one of its long-fingered hands around its throat, as if to say,
Ouch
! Scott felt ashamed of his actions as Belinda looked on, tutting.

The second tube
’s sounds ceased as the blue flashes faded. It was Amelia’s tube and it had begun to move back from whence it came. Phyllis’s, on the other hand, was still flashing like a wild disco was on-going and its frequency was getting faster than ever. Scott turned to Belinda and was about to ask something when the flashing and the sounds of static stopped. His question was going to be meaningless anyway so didn’t bother to ask it. Belinda waited patiently, quietly observing the processes taking place. The chamber was quiet, except for the soft bubbling and reduced static in the distance. The two silver spheres had stopped their discharges, almost as if the process had run the system dry or was broken by the amount of work involved. Scott’s shoulders heaved upwards as he was making ready to approach the tube around the altar-like structure, but stopped in his tracks as it began to slide away. He waited, poised to move rapidly should he need to, while preparing to console Belinda if the worst scenario should become apparent. He watched… waiting.

The tube came off the altar and righted itself. A strange mist enveloped the body of Phyllis, with big curling swirls cascading around her,
almost as if the clouds were alive and trying to conceal an embarrassing mistake. The altar lowered itself to the floor and the mist vanished as quickly as it had arrived. She was as still as night and looked just as pretty as she had before the operation. Her lips were red and her cheeks were pink, the suit of blue made her dazzle beneath the sharp lighting. Scott wanted to approach her, but felt he shouldn’t. Belinda was aware of his feelings and decided to spare him the agony of waiting so moved forward herself. Phyllis’s hands were covered with the foam she had already seen on Mars, the same as Mike had had over his healed wounds too.

“It has to be a good sign; it just has to be,” she told herself several times. Scott came across and stood by her side, sp
otting the foam.

“It looks like it was a success to me.” He said it in all honesty, but also as reassuring as he could be to help persuade Belinda
as well. They both looked on quietly.