Invaders

by Vaughn Heppner

  “Do we have enough ship power to do anything?” I asked.

  “We are low on power, but that will prove to be the least of our problems.”

  “Look, Rax, I can’t do all the thinking here. Either you talk to me or you can drop me off, and I’ll try to put my life back together the best I can.”

  “Such an action would be irresponsible of me,” Rax said, “as I cannot risk you contaminating the other aboriginals.”

  I eyed him. “You’re saying I already know too much.”

  “Yes,” Rax said.

  “So we’re at a serious impasse. If you were telling me the truth before, you need me to fly the Guard-ship. So, you can’t just up and kill me without stranding yourself. But there’s no way I’m going to work for you, if you’re going to keep me a prisoner for the rest of my life.”

  “I have a sworn duty to the Guard,” Rax said.

  I snapped my fingers. “There’s the answer, Rax. I’ll give you my word to keep silent about you and the Guard. I won’t tell a soul.”

  “While I suspect you are giving me a genuine offer, I cannot trust your capricious human nature.”

  I shook my head.

  “You’re in a pinch, Rax. You can’t keep your prissy rules and hope to win. Either you learn to bend a little and realize we can scratch each other’s backs, or you might as well commit suicide. Because I don’t see you solving anything without my help—and I’m not going to help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “How can I scratch your back?” Rax asked.

  “You don’t like the Organizer breaking Galactic Law by coming to a banned planet. I don’t care about Galactic Law, but I care about my planet. I don’t want the Organizer dropping more nukes or killing more humans. I have a feeling he’ll do more of both before this is over. That means I want to stop him. While I don’t imagine myself as a world-saver, I realize I’m in the hot seat. I didn’t ask for this, but I’m here. I have a duty to the rest of the human race to fight for our united survival. Maybe that’s not the issue, but maybe it is. Maybe the Organizer will destroy humanity in order to cover his tracks. I can’t take that chance. Thus, I’m willing to do what I have to in order to stop him.”

  “You never did stop being a Marine, did you, Logan?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

  “You make a logical case,” Rax said. “I am impressed, and I need your full cooperation. I suppose I could invoke the Antares Clause. I will have to support my decision before a full board later. That could cost me my provisional citizenship, but the situation is dire and I have few options. I believe the Galactic Guard Commandant will support me, but Heaven help us if we fail.

  “Logan,” he said. “In a nutshell, this is the extent of what the Guard knows concerning the present case. Hmm, I suppose I will have to give you a brief history so it makes sense. Know, then, that starting a long time ago, few ships ever returned from this region of space. In time, the Guard narrowed the focus. The Old Guard learned that Earth was the focal point of the danger. The Guard of those times sent several expeditions to the planet. Only one returned, but with their personnel scrubbed of memories. After that, the Galactic Council declared Earth a banned planet and the local region a forbidden zone.”

  “What do you think happened to all those ships?”

  “There are competing theories, each equally ridiculous. We can go into the theories later—”

  “Why did you and your agent come if it’s so dangerous?” I asked, interrupting him. “Why did the Galactic Council change its mind about Earth?”

  “That is the pertinent question,” Rax said. “The present situation started several years ago when treasure hunters found ancient script buried deep on the fourth planet in the Canopus Star System.”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “The Canopus System is roughly thirty light-years from Earth.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “According to the barely legible text—written in Linear D, mind you—the scroll claimed to belong to the mythical Polarions. Have you ever heard of them?”

  “Polarions?” I asked. “No. Should I have?”

  “I had hoped—never mind. It does not matter. ‘Polarions’ in Galactic terms is like saying ‘the gods’ in human terms.”

  “You mean like the Bible was God-inspired?”

  “The gods denotes many powerful entities of divine nature, which is different from the singular claim of one divine Creator. It is more like claiming that Zeus, Apollo and Athena are real, or were real, and that humans could find Zeus’s thunderbolts or Thor’s mythical hammer if they looked hard enough.”

  “The Polarions were gods?” I asked.

  “Not exactly,” Rax said. “But they hold a mythical fascination for certain Galactic races. They supposedly fashioned incredible technological marvels at the dawn of Time. Later, they disappeared. There are a thousand hypotheses as to why they departed. None of those matter to our mission.

  “In any case,” Rax said, “most rational beings would have brushed aside the scroll’s claims. There are countless forgers in the galaxy, preying on people’s gullibility in order to gain profits. This seemed like an obvious prank despite the alleged proof of the scroll’s antiquity. However, the treasure hunters had also found a weapon. The weapon was smaller than my ship. That is all the Guard knows concerning it except that it also obliterated a Rigellian battle fleet. One moment, the Rigellians maneuvered toward an enemy planet. The next, the weapon vaporized everyone, including the treasure hunters who had wielded it.”

  “How big was the battle fleet?”

  “Twenty-eight maulers and their accompanying support vessels ceased to exist in one moment of time,” Rax said. “It was a dreadful example of the power of the Polarions. It showed to perfection the foolishness of dabbling with energies better left untouched.”

  “What does any of that have to do with Earth?” I asked. “The treasure hunters died with their fantastic weapon, and they found it on a planet in the Canopus System, thirty light-years from Earth.”

  “Firstly,” Rax said, “not all the treasure hunters died. A Min Ve survived. The Guard learned that he claimed the scroll spoke about another cache of marvels. The scroll also spoke of dire curses and warned in no uncertain terms the risk anyone took in trying to uncover the cache.”

  “I take it the scroll spoke about Earth.”

  “It did indeed,” Rax said.

  “Then why hasn’t the universe coming running to knock down our doors to find these super-weapons?”

  “It hasn’t because the entire universe doesn’t know about the claim,” Rax said. “Only a handful of beings are privy to the information you have just heard. There is another reason, which I have already stated. Earth has a terrible reputation. Few spacefarers have ever returned from this cursed planet, my agent now included in that list.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “We humans have done just fine here for thousands of years.”

  “It is a great mystery, I agree.”

  “So you’re saying that somewhere on the planet are Polarion super-weapons?”

  “I have come to believe so,” Rax said. “I also wonder if these weapons are too powerful for anyone to wield successfully.”

  “Meaning what?” I asked.

  “Meaning that tampering with them could bring about terrible devastation to the galaxy. I am afraid the ancients wisely banned anyone from coming to your planet. I have heard a saying while here. ‘Let sleeping dogs lie.’ We should let the Polarion technology molder for another millennia, lest we bring about a stellar Armageddon.”

  “Clearly the Min Ves don’t agree with you,” I said.

  “Most Min Ves do, but there is a criminal cabal in their midst. The criminals must have strong-armed enough council members to sanction their foolish expedition.”

  “Why do you think the Polarions chose Earth to stash some of their super-weapons?”

  “I have no idea,” Rax said.
/>   “Why have we been immune to these terrible weapons all this time?”

  “It is a mystery, as I have repeatedly said.”

  I scratched my head, my curiosity burning brighter by the minute. “That’s a good story, Rax. Now, what are you and I going to do about it?”

  “Perhaps we should do nothing and let the ancient devices devour the pirates.”

  “Did you even listen to your own story?” I asked. “The treasure hunters used the weapon against a battlefleet, wiping it out. We have a duty to try to stop the pirates from finding these ancient weapons. While I might not have believed your story two days ago, after what I’ve seen in Greenland, I’m a believer in the possibility of Polarions.”

  “You have a point.”

  “Damn straight, I do,” I said.

  “Yes,” Rax said. “Let me calculate our various options.”

  The crystal fell silent, and I waited. It proved a long wait, more than twenty minutes. That was long enough for me to get up, search for the head, use it and sit back down in the pilot chair.

  “We are already on Earth,” Rax said. “As long as I live, I have a responsibility to follow my oath of service. You stated your duty to your race, and you have a good heart. We should continue to work together to stop the Organizer from unleashing a possible reign of terror on the universe. That means we must stop him from finding or taking weapons too powerful for any mortal to wield.”

  “Sounds like you have plan,” I said.

  “Yes,” Rax said. “First, we must siphon power through the osmosis method. Then, you and I will scout out the Nevada excavation site, given there is one. We will go armed and alert, and learn more about the Organizer’s progress. Afterward, we can decide on the next move. Perhaps by then, another Guard starship will have arrived in the solar system.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right,” I said. “How are we going to do this scouting?”

  Rax began to explain.

  -24-

  Siphoning the power proved easy, as Rax had said. We parked underwater a mile offshore from Oahu, Hawaii, and for the next several hours, we sucked energy from the power grid.

  Rax explained a little more about operating the ship. I watched the energy levels rise until we finally had full banks.

  “I’ve been wondering about something,” I said.

  I was piloting us through the deep like a submarine. We were using an advanced scanning system to stay clear of underwater sensing gear and prowling submersibles. It was weird to realize that I could see the expensive national military toys, but they had no idea I was cruising circles around them.

  “How are we going to slip unnoticed onto the Nevada excavation site?” I asked. “While the Organizer must believe he destroyed us, I’m sure he has someone watching his scanners.”

  “The Guard-ship will remain underwater for the duration of our scouting mission,” Rax said.

  “You’re suggesting that we teleport to the site?”

  “We cannot directly teleport there for several reasons,” Rax said. “The chief one being that I have yet to fix the location.”

  “Do you have a cloaking device or something?”

  “Not like the Organizer has on his orbital vessel,” Rax said.

  “When we teleport, do we make a big red beam like I saw in Nevada?”

  “The Guard possesses advanced teleporting systems superior to what the Min Ve Council has given the Organizer. But to answer your original question, you and I will leave the ship, appearing near your Western Sunlight’s Station 5. We will have to track the tanks from there. You have a decided advantage as a pseudo-agent. You are an aboriginal. Thus, the Organizer’s people cannot easily detect you as Guard affiliated.”

  “They must scan from space, right?” I asked.

  “That is correct.”

  “And they won’t be able to spot our teleportation?”

  “There is a small possibility of that, which is why we will teleport only when their vessel is on the other side of the planet.”

  “Can’t they detect you?”

  “These things are matters of probability, not yea or nay. My metal sheathing helps to screen my true nature. If I take the proper precautions, it is highly unlikely anyone on the enemy ship will detect my presence while I am on the planetary surface.”

  “But if you—”

  “Logan,” he said, cutting me off. “Let us prepare. We have this one chance to do this correctly. We must strive for a perfect insertion and be ready to accelerate our timetable at any moment.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Let’s prep. What do you have in mind?”

  ***

  I managed to modify the little crystal’s plan. The hardest part was convincing him it would be okay to let me mingle with other humans. The key leveraging point proved to be supplies. While he could teleport me just about anywhere in Nevada, plopping us into the middle of a desert would be a good way to leave us stranded in the middle of nowhere.

  In the end, Rax decided to trust me because I convinced him that stopping the Organizer was in my own best interest.

  He transferred us into my apartment in Las Vegas. I didn’t have any keys on me and the building had good security. If I’d had to break in—instead of just teleporting inside as we did—that would have likely proved troublesome. This way, I grabbed my emergency credit card, changed into regular clothes and put on an extra shoulder rig. Instead of the cannon-like .44, I wore a smaller .38.

  Rax hadn’t loaned me any of his advanced Guard weaponry or allowed me to take the Greenland force-blade. Instead, I had my backup revolver with plenty of ammo, a spring-assisted flick-knife, a compass, a small spyglass, a canteen and a satellite phone. I wore desert hunting gear with a good pair of boots.

  I raided my refrigerator, polishing off just about everything in there, including an old jar of dill pickles and a questionable carton of milk.

  “I’m definitely eating more,” I said.

  Rax remained silent.

  I carried him in an inside jacket pocket. I had a tiny earbud in place, so he wouldn’t have to speak through the fabric.

  I had a little over four hundred dollars in the apartment, and put it all in an old wallet I found in the top drawer of my desk. I’d lost my regular wallet, which held the rest of my credit cards and my driver’s license. I took an old license, figuring that was better than having nothing.

  I went to the bank first, taking out one thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars, leaving two hundred in the account. Afterward, I went to a rental agency, getting myself a powerful Chief Cherokee Jeep.

  I figured what the heck and bought an AR-15 on credit, loading up on ammo.

  I loved Nevada, especially as compared to the Socialist State of California. I used to live in California. It had great people and an amazing climate, but a crappy state government that taxed people as if the state thought they were the Feds. The state government also had oppressive laws against just about everything. I’d grown up in California, but I had always felt myself breathe easier in the state next door.

  I headed north from Vegas with the air-conditioner roaring full blast. I had a full tank of gas, new tires, a new rifle and a new purpose.

  “I’ve been wondering,” I said. “If you’re right about the two sites, the starship is going to be scanning the local Nevada area twenty-four/seven, as Greenland is history.”

  “Despite all that,” Rax said, with his tinny voice in my left ear, “I suggest we head for Station 5.”

  “In order to pick up the tank tracks?” I asked.

  “That is one reason. The other is to study the station. That will tell us much concerning the Organizer’s mindset.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Did his people repair the damage to the station? Did they set up a camouflage screen around it or did they leave it smashed?”

  “Oh, I see. How hard is he trying to conceal his actions or not conceal them? If he’s trying to conceal them that means he’s still ope
rating secretively on Earth.”

  “Precisely,” Rax said.

  I settled back for a long drive and turned on the radio. I was glad I’d bought a new pair of sunglasses. It was bright out here.

  The songs lulled me, which I appreciated now. Every time they stopped playing songs for an advertisement or some news, I switched stations. I didn’t want to hear about a strange occurrence in Greenland. I realized after an hour that I wanted to absorb the regular life I might never have again. By a freak happenstance, I’d been thrown into a new world that included talking crystals, shape-changing aliens, spaceships and ancient space gods.

  I shook my head. Why me? Why did I have to be the guy thrown into an alien freak show? Sure, I had perfect health now, was stronger than the toughest NFL lineman, and I could heal like a lizard re-growing its tail. I also had to face this alone, without anyone knowing what I was doing.

  “It’s just you and me, kid,” I said.

  Rax didn’t answer. What did he think about all this? What did a non-moving crystal think about life, about honor, patriotism or even sex?

  I sat up while listening to a crooning love song.

  “Tell me about the Jarnevon,” I said. When the crystal didn’t answer, I said, “Rax.”

  “What is the problem?”

  “Are you asleep?”

  “I was in meditation mode,” Rax said. “It is akin to human sleep. Its primary function is data storage rearrangement. I can only hold so much short-term data. Then, I must process it into long-term crystal storage regions so I can empty the short-term capacitors.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “I’m sorry about that. Go back to sleep.”

  “I cannot do that now,” Rax said. “Entering meditation mode is a complex process. I am no longer in the correct mood to attempt it.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “What is that wailing I hear?”

  “It’s the radio. Do you like it?”

  “It is awful and mind-numbing. Why do you torture yourself with it?”

  “We call it entertainment,” I said.

  “I am not amused.”

  “I’d turn it off,” I said, with a grin, “but I might fall asleep if I did.”