Escape 1: Escape From Aliens (23 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

One night a week into the trip to Kepler 22, Bill entered the Greenery Chamber, aiming for another lie-down on the meadow grass with a relaxing night sky star viewing. As usual the chamber was yellow-lighted. A word to Star Traveler was all it took to change it to night-time. But his usual lie-down spot looked different. Instead of the normal vibrant green of the Alien version of grass, he saw large patches of pale yellow grass. It looked dead.

He frowned, then looked around at the encircling trees, shrubs and madrone root snarls. A good third of them also looked yellowish, or some color not natural to them. The broad green leaves of the aspen-like trees resembled the golden brown of fall in the Northeast. Which shouldn’t be, given the constant 70 degree temp the AI maintained in all ship rooms and chambers. Except for the habitat rooms which were set at whatever temp the Alien liked. He walked across the grass, happy that most of it was still green and healthy. Drawing closer to the jumble of white-barked aspens and red-barked gnarly root trees, he noticed how the soil around the base of some trees was discolored. Instead of the normal dark brown of the room’s soil, this soil showed black streaks. He stepped further into the small forest area, counting the number of trees with black streaks at their base. When he had counted twenty-three, a whooshing sound came from the entry door. He looked back through the yellow-lighted forest, wondering who would show up in the middle of the night.

Through the intervening tree trunks, branches and discolored leaves he saw a flash of silver. Leaning to one side to gain a clearer view, he felt astonishment.

The kangaroo shape of Purposeful Guide had entered the chamber. His silvery scales, long thick tail and red eyes were unique among the Aliens on board the
Blue Sky
. What was even more unusual was the gray metal bucket that hung from the creature’s four-fingered hands. It seemed heavy, judging from the slowness with which the Cheelan moved. What was he doing here?

Purposeful Guide looked around the chamber, then he spoke. “Star Traveler, reduce yellow illumination to Cheelan normal. Increase ultraviolet and infrared levels to match my home star.”

“Adjusting,” said the AI in a calm voice.

Bill blinked as the scene before him grew redder and less bright. Still, the yellow illumination matched that of a late afternoon in the Rockies. While he wondered at the Cheelan’s presence, old habits kept him still and quiet. His SEAL training had emphasized the value of silent observation of an enemy village, compound or campsite. You could pick up clues about hidden movements, based on the sounds of birds and the crunching of gravel or forest duff underfoot. Peering closely, he saw the reptilian Alien stop in the middle of the meadow. He reached into the heavy bucket with one hand, which came out with a cup filled with something dark. Purposeful Guide tossed the cup’s contents to one side. And always onto the green areas of the grass.
What the fuck?
Moving slowly in his hiking boots, Bill headed through the forest trunks, keeping under cover as he grew closer to the kangaroo reptile.

“Soon, soon, we will be home,” Purposeful barked in a low melodic tone. Was that Cheelan singing? “Soon, soon this ship will seek help at  my complex. Soon, soon, this ship will be mine,” the Alien bark-sang as it moved across the meadow, tossing out cups of the dark liquid onto the green grassy areas.

Puzzlement filled Bill’s mind. Sure, when the
Blue Sky
arrived at Kepler 22 and contacted the Cheelan authorities, the ship would seek to top off its deuterium and tritium fuel tanks. And maybe pick up some natural foods pleasing to one or more crew members. Since the orbital complex that Purposeful had managed was the only one in orbit above the Cheelan world, it made sense to stop there. But stopping for refueling did not equate to ownership. Unless the Alien knew something Bill didn’t. Moving slowly and stepping softly, he came to the edge of the forest. Standing behind a aspen thick as a boulder, he peered around it.

Purposeful Guide’s bucket seemed lighter. The Alien stopped, looked around, then headed for a aspen tree at the edge of the forest. Bending down, the Alien dipped the cup into the bucket, pulled it out and poured the dark concoction onto the ground at the base of the tree. A healthy white-barked aspen it was, with green leaves. Certainty grew in Bill’s mind as he saw how the dark fluid left a black streak on the ground at the base of the tree. He stepped out into the yellow-spotted meadow.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The horse-like head of Purposeful Guide jerked up. Two red eyes fixed on him. Loud barking echoed over the meadow. “You! You mammal! Leave this chamber! I am bringing nourishment to the trees and grass of this place.”

Bill moved out into the meadow. He avoided a fresh black spot on the grass. Moving sideways so he stood between the chamber’s door and the Cheelan, he gestured at the yellow-spotted grass. “Nourishment, hell! This grass is sick. And the black streaks at the base of those trees have killed its leaves. Why are you killing the grass and trees?”

The Alien dropped the bucket and cup, turned to face Bill and reached out with silver-scaled arms. Each finger grew a yellow claw. The Cheelan’s mouth opened, showing a dozen sharp canines. Purposeful Guide’s dark red tongue moved as he spoke in a series of barks and yelps.

“You know nothing! These changes are normal to the Greenery Chamber! I am the manager of Life Support!”

It was a lie of course. Bill knew that just by reading the Cheelan’s body stance and voice tones. A sense of danger impending flowed through Bill. He liked it. He hadn’t felt this threatened since the fight with the Mok cougar. Shifting his stance, he leaned forward a little, held his arms out to either side and opened his eyes to every movement of every part of the Alien who stood just twenty feet from him. Words often lied. An opponent’s body never lied. While experienced fighters knew how to deceive, to mount a feinting movement, he judged this two-legged, two-armed reptile to be a bureaucrat. A manager of things and people. Not someone trained in fighting to the death.

“It is
you
who are lying,” Bill said softly. “Star Traveler, call Captain Jane and show her a holo of what is happening in this chamber. Tell her to come here quickly.”

“Complying.”

Purposeful Guide stomped forward, his silvery-scaled arms outstretched as his claw-tipped fingers curled. “Mammal! Live-birthers! You are an abomination to all that is normal! I managed an orbital complex! But your female gave me only Life Support to manage. She should have assigned me control over the entire crew!”

Bill enjoyed the sense of impending violence. He knew he could take the Alien in a one-on-one battle. But the creature’s frantic anger made him wonder. “Star Traveler, what did Purposeful Guide tell you was the purpose of the black gunk he has been spreading on the grass and the trees? Surely you inquired when some greenery began dying.”

“I inquired,” the AI hummed. “Bioform Purposeful Guide stated the bioplant changes were normal. He stated the application of waste oil residue to the grass and trees was helpful. The trees and grass are made of hydrocarbons. The oil is a hydrocarbon. Is this not correct?”

Purposeful’s red eyes blinked. “Stupid ship mind!” The Cheelan closed the distance to ten feet.

Bill smiled. “Star Traveler, recall how Diligent Taskmaster told you the people occupying the containment cells were guests? That was an untruth. What Purposeful Guide said is also an untruth.”

“Sadness fills me,” the AI said. “Bioforms are such—”

The Cheelan jumped at Bill. “Kill all gravity in here!” he barked.

Bill’s combat instincts made him kick at the ground so he rose up to intercept the oncoming form of the Cheelan.

They met in midair.

He ducked his head below a claw swipe of one Cheelan arm, then grabbed its fabric skirt and pulled the Alien close to him.

“No!” Purposeful Guide barked, grabbing his left shoulder with four sharp claws that bit through his shirt and into his muscle. “You dangerous mammal! You must be shown—”

His left fist hit the underside of the Cheelan’s jaw, shutting it up for the moment. Twisting to grab its waist with his legs in a free-fall chute maneuver he recalled from early training at San Diego, Bill pulled himself around until he was on the arching back of the Cheelan kangaroo. Below him the creature’s thick tail whipped up, trying to dislodge him. Wrenching his left shoulder free, he reached under each armpit of the Alien and then up, locking his fingers behind its scaly neck. Pushing forward with his knees and pressing forward and down with his hands, he held the Alien in a full Nelson headlock. Even though its claw-fingers raked at his arms, trying to break the headlock, he didn’t let go.

A whooshing sound told him that Jane was here.

“Bill!” she cried.

Twisting in midair he wrenched over in a way that caused the Cheelan’s belly to face the access door.

A red beam zipped through the air.

Under his clamping legs and hands, the Cheelan’s body went into sharp jerks and spasms as it lost all voluntary control of its nerves and muscles. “Noooo!” it barked low and loud. “This ship must become Cheelan! This ship—” The words ended in a gurgle that became a gasp.

Letting go the spasming body, Bill kicked away and downward, aiming for the meadow.

“Star Traveler!” called Jane. “Restore gravity to one-tenth Earth gee!”

Bill landed on his hands and boots, rolled to one side, then was up and moving toward the form of Purposeful Guide. Who had landed on the meadow on one side. He stopped and watched the twitching form of the now unconscious Alien. Its null gravity jump had been an attempt to get past him to the chamber’s exit door.

Jane moved into his peripheral sight, holding a white tube in one hand and her Browning Hi-Power in the other hand. “Bill. What the fuck was that fight all about? I caught part of it in a holo that followed me as I ran here. Something about oil and the meadow?”

He licked his lips, felt slight pain from claw-cuts on his left shoulder and both forearms, then met her gaze. “Captain, look at his meadow. See the yellow patches? See the golden yellow leaves on the aspen trees? There are black streaks on the ground around each sick tree. Bluntly, Purposeful Guide has been coming into this place, in the middle of the night, and spreading waste oil across the meadow and below the trees.”

“Damn.” Wearing only a black leotard that he realized was all she wore while sleeping, the woman gave a sigh, followed by a grimace as she looked around. “I see it now. Star Traveler, resume Sol normal lighting.” The room’s light lost its reddish tinge. “This room is the source of all the oxygen we and everyone else breath. These plants take in what we exhale and give us back breathable air. Killing these plants and trees, over the weeks of our travel to Kepler 22, would have killed this ship’s Life Support ability.” She frowned. “Star Traveler, what is the current efficiency of carbon dioxide conversion to oxygen by way of the plant bioforms in this chamber? Compared to before this discoloring happened.”

“Efficiency is 73 percent of prior air recycling,” the AI hummed.

Jane looked his way, bit her lip, then looked resolute. “Is that conversion level sufficient to keep all oxygen-breathing bioforms alive until arrival at Kepler 22?”

“Yes, it is sufficient,” the ship mind said. “However, efficiency may improve if damaged grass and soil areas are removed, grass seed is planted, and water with mineral nutrients is provided.”

Bill pulled off his leather belt, bent down, pulled the Cheelan’s scaly arms behind its back, passed a loop over the joined wrists, and pulled tight. He wrapped the belt twice around the Alien’s wrists, then made a knot with the remaining length. Looking up, he caught Jane’s brown eyes. “Captain, I say we put this bastard back into a containment cell until we get to Kepler 22. Then we offship him to some local authority. We still have four crew volunteers. And two passengers. We can get by without his help.”

She nodded, then holstered her semi-auto, stuck her taser tube down the back of her black leotard and bent down to grab the Alien’s scaly feet. Looking to where he stood at the Cheelan’s shoulders, she gave him a grin. “Shall we keep hallway gravity at one-tenth gee until we have him stuffed away?”

“For sure.” Bill gripped the Alien’s shoulders and stood up. The Cheelan’s weight felt like ten pounds thanks to the low grav level. For which he had Jane’s quick thinking to thank. “Captain, from what I can see, I think we stopped him before he did irreversible damage. Which would have caused us to seek an entirely new set of trees, shrubs and grass. In Kepler 22. Which, from what he said, I think was his aim. Force us to stop for an overhaul at his orbital complex, then have his people take control of the ship while they were inside working on stuff.” He followed Jane as she led their convoy to the oval door that gave access to the side hallway. It opened to her red cube, which she pocketed somewhere so she could hold up her end of the kangaroo reptile.

“Sounds like a plausible reason for why he poisoned the stuff we all rely on in order to breath.” She led the way through the doorway, then left down the hallway toward the Engine Chamber cross hallway. No one else was to be seen. “I knew we were taking a chance on Alien motivations by inviting these folks to be crew. But it seemed the logical thing to do. At the time.”

Bill sympathized. “Well, now we know a Cheelan can be just as sneaky, sly and duplicitous as humans can be.”