“But why?” Trixie wasn't sure she wanted to know, but she could not ignore the obvious.
“This means the alien presence has been here all along,” Kostas volunteered in an icy tone. “We couldn't detect them because they are hiding behind some cloaking technology... Damn!”
Trixie stared at Kostas, unsure what to do next.
“I'll be at the forge.” He turned around and quickly walked away.
As Trixie wanted to call him back, he broke into a run, and she realized he was already out of earshot. Wraith!
* * *
Later that morning, as Kostas worked the bellows at the forge, his enhanced hearing detected a high-pitched keening sound coming from outside. He dropped the bellows and glanced up through the open awning. The small hair along his spine shuddered and the space around him crackled with electricity. He wiped black, sweaty hands on his thighs and grabbed the pulse riffle laid against the doorjamb on his way out.
Scanning the sky, he ignored the cool morning air that tensed his muscles under the tee shirt. Or was it dread? Around him other people came out of the buildings. They'd felt it too, the strange, eerie feeling of an unfriendly presence.
Kostas could now pinpoint the sound. His keen eye caught something shimmering above the flat roof of the communal building. Like a reflection caught between layers of atmosphere, or the mirages described by ancient Legionnaires. Except that the cold atmospheric conditions here could not produce such optical illusions.
He ran along the slanted streets up to the main building.
“Alien vessel uncloaking on the roof of the capitol,” he yelled in his radio. Then he swung the pulse riffle into shooting position and released the safety. As he approached the circular fountain, he knelt behind the bench-like stone rim, aiming at the de-cloaking ship, and waited.
Trixie rushed from behind and crouched beside him.
“I think our alien friends decided to show up.” Kostas pulled out his binocs.
On the roof, close to the edge, the outlines of a small translucent ship in the shape of an elongated egg came into focus. Through the clear hull, he could see movement, and flashes of turquoise and crimson. “Looks like there are two people inside the shuttle.”
“Only two?” She reached for her own field glasses. “A small delegation. They must have peaceful intents.”
“Or they are cocky sons of bitches, very sure of themselves.” Kostas didn't like it one bit. “These dudes have no fear. Not a good sign.”
“I wonder what they are waiting for.” Trixie's voice trembled, as if with a trickle of fear.
“Waiting for a larger audience?” Kostas suggested.
Around him and Trixie, more settlers had arrived and stared in disbelief at the unlikely glass vessel perched on the flat roof. They remained silent, as if in awe. Surprise, or fear paralyzed their throats.
Kostas had never seen such strange bubble design.
“They must have a large ship in orbit.” Trixie's voice sounded far away.
“To better vaporize us if it doesn't go well? That's what they did to our ship, remember?” How could she not see or feel doom coming at them?
“If they had wanted us dead, they could have done that anytime, and they didn't need to show themselves.” She kept staring through the glasses. “Maybe they are coming to help us.”
“After they shot us down and destroyed our ship? I doubt it.” Something didn't sit right in his stomach.
By now the crew and most of the settlers had assembled on the esplanade and stared in awed silence.
The clear dome of the alien shuttle lifted open like a clam shell. The two humanoids inside exited with easy flowing movements and surprising grace for their tall size. According to height and distance, they had to be over eight feet tall. The two aliens stood side by side at the edge of the flat rooftop. Costas studied their features through the binocs.
One had pale skin, turquoise hair and eyes, and wore ample turquoise robes that hid the shape and proportions of his body. The other had skin the color of a shiny gold statue, with crimson hair and red eyes, and wore similar robes of crimson. Both had symmetrical and rather handsome faces with high foreheads, two long arms, two booted feet. Kostas couldn't get past the freaky coloring. Weird.
Kostas dropped the binocs, set the optic scope of his rifle upon one alien's heart, then the other, just for the satisfaction. Then he realized their heart might lay in a different part of their body.
The turquoise humanoid raised his arms in a slow, solemn gesture.
A general gasp floated above the settlers.
“They have six fingers on each hand,” Trixie whispered, bright-eyed, her lovely face flushed with excitement. Did she think this was going to be fun? “And they don't seem to carry any weapons.”
That bothered Kostas more than if they had leapt out of their shuttle with guns blazing. They had to know a few of the settlers were armed. So why didn't they take precautions?
“Welcome to the citadel of Kassouk.” The being's sepulchral voice boomed over their heads, as if amplified by artificial means. “We are Godds, from the planet Godda, and we own this place. We gladly bless you with our bounty!”
“They speak Standard?” A surprised woman among the settlers.
“Did he say they were gods?” A man asked.
“Did we die? Are we in heaven?” Another woman.
“Hell would be more like it!” Kostas spat under his breath.
“We bring peace, protection, genetic improvements for your crops and cattle,” the alien went on, “and the promise of a very happy life here.”
Each second tempted Kostas to pull the trigger on these lying bastards.
“Where is your leader, Trixie?” the alien asked.
“How do they know your name?” Kostas hated mysteries.
Trixie shrugged then rose and stepped forward in the wide empty space between the building and the fountain. “I'm Trixie. I am honored to make your acquaintance.”
Both aliens studied Trixie with keen interest then glanced at each other. In surprise, or uncertainty?
“Is your leader a female?” The startled tone in the graveyard voice sounded comical.
Kostas growled “Galactic misogynic bastards.”
“Males and females are equal in our society,” Trixie said. “But although I was captain of our ship, I am only one member of the council of representatives. That is how we govern ourselves.”
“Male and female representatives?” The turquoise giant seemed to reflect on that for a moment. “Then would all the representatives please step forward?”
Trixie motioned for all the reps to join her. Kostas reluctantly stepped forth and stood at her side, rifle at the ready.
Other crew and civilian representatives, men and women, a few among them carrying guns, stepped forward, forming a line. Kostas recognized most of them from the meeting in the cargo bay before the crash. Including Tabor, the equine tribe leader, who also carried a rifle. Kostas reminded himself that the alien bastards on the rooftop had already massacred hundreds of settlers when they shot down the ship.
McLure joined the line in his fancy sable coat and fur hood. The son of a bitch was a member of the council, of course. He'd even appropriated the largest individual abode in the citadel for himself.
Kostas bent to whisper in Trixie's ear. “Why are we listening to these murderous clowns?”
“There is much to gain through diplomacy,” Trixie said with a smile. Her eyes sparkled. She looked radiant. As if this was the greatest day of her life. “Maybe our luck is about to change.”
Kostas shrugged. Women. Obviously, the alien in turquoise was the one in charge. If he tried anything to mow down the leaders in one strike, Kostas hoped to be fast enough to kill him first.
“What we offer is a comfortable life here in our city. We control the climate, so we can make this place warmer or cooler at will.”
Kostas whistled. A barely veiled threat. “They have us by the balls. If they
pull the switch on the weather satellites, we are popsicle.”
McLure stepped forward and bowed slightly, the stiff, rather comical gesture of a tall, lanky man who never bows. “If I may, venerable ones, as the scientific mind of this group, I have a project I would like to discuss with you. Perhaps we can exchange ideas, from scientific mind to scientific mind, help each other, and together bring this project of mine to fruition.”
The expression of surprise on both alien faces bordered on shock.
The leader in turquoise recovered first. “We will discuss this further, if and when we get to an agreement on a symbiotic arrangement of some sort.”
“Here goes nothing,” Kostas whispered in Trixie's ear. Then he stepped forward and shouted toward the roof. “What's the catch? What do you want in exchange for keeping us alive?”
“Well...” The alien in turquoise rearranged his perfectly straight robes. “In exchange for our bounty, you can perform a few services for us.”
“What kind of services.” Kostas didn't like the sound of that.
“This planet is full of riches.” The sepulchral voice wavered slightly, as if much depended on the next words. “We need workers to help us extract them. And you are better suited for this kind of work than we are.”
Kostas had a bad feeling about this. “You want labor, slaves for your mines!”
“We offer protection, and we are generous in sharing our bounty.”
“Protection against what?” Kostas couldn't help the heat rising inside his chest. “Against your own malevolence?”
“We are entirely benevolent. We only seek a mutually beneficial exchange.” The deep alien voice remained clear and strong despite the distance.
“Is that why you shot us down and blew up our ship?” Cold fire burned in the pit of his stomach. “You greedy bastards only want cheap labor.”
“Why do we need protection?” asked another representative.
“Do not concern yourselves. You are safe with us.” The alien's haughty tone grated on the ears.
“I don't trust you.” Kostas couldn't control his rising voice.
“This is just an excuse to enslave us,” Tabor said with venom.
The alien in turquoise made a move toward a fold of his robe. A weapon? Kostas readied his hand on the trigger of his pulse rifle, but someone else shot first. The air pulsed red but the man's shot did not hit the Godds. An invisible shield of some kind absorbed the pulse, protecting the two figures on the roof and their craft.
“Our proposal still stands.” The turquoise alien smirked. “Think on it. We shall return when you have made your decision.”
The tall being gestured and a blinding flash exploded on the cobbled esplanade. The crowd gasped. Someone screamed.
Blinded, Kostas grabbed Trixie and pulled her down.
When he could see again, the aliens and their craft were gone, and one representative lay on the cobblestone. The human body was burnt beyond recognition, a melted rifle lay beside it. One look, and Kostas knew the councilman was dead.
“Was this the man who fired the rifle?” Trixie’s voice shook as she pushed herself to her feet and stared at the body.
Kostas nodded. “A chilling message...”
“Thank you for pulling me away...” She stared into his eyes, visibly shaken. “I can't believe this man was stupid enough to provoke them. His little stunt may cost us dearly.”
It could have been Kostas firing his rifle. Would she call him stupid as well? Unable to answer or remain civil, Kostas clenched his jaw, shook his head and stormed away. “Damn the sons of bitches!”
Chapter Four
Kostas surveyed the funeral from the top of the rampart above the small western gate. He checked his plasma blaster, and his breath plumed in front of his face as he blew on his bare fingers. Gloves impeded accuracy. Snow started to fall again.
At the foot of a tall boulder, just outside the wall, stood a pyre of stacked firewood. On top of it, wrapped in a white sheet, lay the body of the representative killed by the alien this morning on the esplanade. Most of the settlers and crew now gathered around to give homage, not just to the councilor killed by the alien giant, but to all those who'd lost their lives on this expedition... so far. Kostas wondered how many more would pay the ultimate price. Would any of them survive in the end?
The friends of the deceased had decided upon cremating the already scorched body. A young woman, unsteady on her feet, approached the pyre. Probably the dead man's wife or girlfriend. She sobbed as she took a flaming brand offered by a member of her group and touched it to the base of the pyre. Dark smoke rose among the flurries into the gray sky. Wood crackled. Soon Kostas could discern the smell of charred flesh in the moist, wintry air.
To his left, beyond the main gate with its drawn bridge, beyond the gorge that separated the citadel from the plains, the whiteness spread, with no distinction between the ground, the falling snow, or the sky. The new blanket already erased the dark stain from the ashes of Noah’s Ark.
In the spring, after the thaw, nothing would remain of their past. Nothing to prove to their descendants that they had come on a ship, from a planet called Earth. A strange chill coursed up his spine at the thought.
Although created in a lab, Kostas took pride in Human history. His training had taught him those who ignored the mistakes of the past were doomed to repeat them. He hoped it wouldn't be the case in Kassouk. Here, he would get at least a chance at life... but only if he could keep his origins a secret. The penalty for a clone impersonating a Human was death.
Kostas returned his attention to the funeral down below. He had not known the dead councilman but it didn't matter. The man was one of their own. And in this hostile environment, Kostas valued loyalty and belonging to a community. For this expedition to survive, they must stick together and help each other... like a family.
His original family, the Space Marine Corps, had betrayed him.
Back in the civilized world, Kostas had been a non-entity, named after some obscure scientist on a genetic research team. Not even worthy of a last name. His full denomination was Kostas3759. Shortly before he'd escaped from Mars on Noah’s Ark, he'd been declared flawed, decommissioned, and marked for termination in the bio-recycle vats... like all the other Kostas.
Over their few years of service, the Kostas series had developed a lethal flaw, a tendency to empathy and compassion... even love. This unforeseen emotional defect could not be corrected, condemning the entire series to be scrapped and recycled into neutral DNA tanks to grow new and better soldiers.
Rather than face summary recycling, Kostas had chosen freedom. He'd found a new purpose with this mismatched assortment of rejects. These people needed him, trusted his expertise... They were his new family and he would not let them down. He would find out whatever threats lurked out there, and eliminate them to protect his new tribe. That's what he was bred, indoctrinated, and physically trained to do... serve and protect.
Sensing a change down below, Kostas turned his attention back to the funeral. He saw Trixie step out from the crowd and stand in front of the blazing pyre. She looked striking, out on the white snow in her navy parka. When she pulled back her insulated hood to show her face, soft snowflakes caught in her short blond hair. Then she looked up toward him. His keen enhanced vision caught her large sapphire eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
Kostas caught his breath. Something in the depth of her gaze called to him, like a kinship. Pushing away any distracting thought, he acknowledged his readiness with a thumbs up. How was it that Trixie expressed her concern through tears while his reaction was to fight? Underneath it all, he knew they both had the same desire to protect the settlers from harm.
Trixie nodded to him then addressed the assembly in a strong, confident voice. “We are gathered on this wintry day to honor the dead of this expedition.” She pulled out a tablet from her belt. “I shall recite the names of all those who were killed yesterday, during the ship's attack and in the cras
h landing. These are their names as they appear on Noah’s Ark's manifest.” She cleared her throat and started reading name after name, taking a short pause after each.
The settlers bowed in relative silence, only broken by Trixie's clear voice. Standing at attention in a military salute, Kostas listened to the muffled hiss of the fire, the crackle of burning wood, the shuffling of feet in the crunching snow, a muted cough, a sigh, a sob... He waited for Trixie to give him the signal.
After she finished her recitation, she motioned for everyone to step away from the funeral pyre. Then she looked up a Kostas and gave him the go signal.
All eyes turned to him. Acutely aware of the solemnity of his task, Kostas aimed his blaster at the burning body. They couldn't afford to keep the crowd outside in the cold for hours. There was an important meeting to attend next. The plasma blast had been his idea. Surprisingly, Trixie had approved.
Taking careful aim with the electronic scope, Kostas fired.
A hot flash flared as it hit the funeral pyre. The flames burned brightly with a reddish glow. Within a few minutes, pyre and body disappeared in the all-consuming plasma blaze, leaving just another black spot in the melted snow. As the wind picked up the ashes, the flurries intensified.
Slowly, in reverent silence, the mourners made their way back inside the citadel. Mother Nature would soon cover all traces of the cremation.
* * *
Professor McLure cursed the cold and the unforgiving flights of stairs as he entered the council room, on the second floor of the newly baptized capitol. Nothing remotely as fancy as his former office, when he was Chief of the Genetics Department at the Mars Science Institute... far from it.
The council room stood almost empty. The stark gray walls lacked style. Two fireplaces blazed, providing barely adequate heat through the ducts system. Thankful for the relative warmth in the room, McLure removed his white sable coat and straightened his long blue cashmere tunic over loose matching trousers tucked into soft fur-lined boots. He'd come early... on purpose.
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