“The human is excitable,” Z21 said.
“What do I care about that?” Q4 said. “Synchronize and give the process full power.”
“The ethereal lines are strained,” Z21 declared.
“I do not care,” Q4 said. “This is our only chance to communicate with the Organizer. We must use it.”
I shouted as if with terror. If the Unguls believed I was a silly, frightened human, so much the better. I rolled over and over as if frantic to get away.
“Q4,” Z21 said.
“Ignore the human,” Q4 said. “We can retrieve him once we succeed.”
I rolled down the slope, fell over a ledge and plunged. I struck rocks, banging my shins and forehead and landing on my back. I groaned, watching the white tower from an upside-down position. It was undignified, but I was out of earshot of the Unguls. That was the important point. It might be safer for Rax to revive here.
The sky shimmered strangely. Then, it seemed to shake, straining my vision. I peered at the white tower. It blurred, came into sharper focus as the fiery beam lanced out again, and blurred worse than before, leaving the rocks to my left flowing like lava.
The Unguls spoke louder at their table, working frantically. It was a race. Could the thing in the tower remember how to use its weaponry before the Unguls could break back into phase? I had a feeling the tanks were at various locations in this Twilight Zone land. The Unguls were trying to break out of here, and the ancient warden in the tower did not want that happening.
If I broke free of here, would I lose all chances of finding Debby again? I scowled. I couldn’t worry about that now. I had to worry about my planet, about my friends and family. If I didn’t do something, the Organizer might keep attacking Earth, and that could possibly include more hell-burners.
I bit my lower lip as I switched vantages.
“There,” Z21 said. “I have contacted the ship. Q4, the Jarnevon demands we come up at once for questioning.”
“Yes,” Q4 said. “Tell her we are ready for transfer.”
“Rax,” I hissed at the crystal in my inner jacket pocket. “Rax, you have to wake up.”
“Ten seconds until we transfer,” Z21 said.
“Rax!” I shouted.
“What is the human saying?”
“Something concerning Rax Prime,” Z21 said. “I do not understand—”
“A Guard Advisor Unit,” Q4 said. “That is what he is talking about. That is how he knew about the Canopus treasure site. Get him. Get him now.”
“Rax,” I said, “you have to wake up.”
“Why must I do this thing at your demand?” the crystal said in a querulous tone.
“Rax!” I shouted. “You’re awake.”
“I thought we had established that you would let me remain in meditation mode while I was in it,” the crystal said.
“Rax,” I said. “You’ve been out of phase. Unguls are coming. You have to teleport us to the Guard-ship. If you don’t, the Organizer will beam you onto the orbital vessel.”
“I am hardly awake. What did you say?”
“Cease your communication,” Z21 told me. “I forbid you to speak further.”
“Unguls,” Rax said. “This is very odd. What happened—?”
“You’ve been asleep for days,” I shouted.
Z21 leaped over a rock, crashing beside us. His knees struck my shoulder, hurling me down. An agonizer gleamed in his grip. He struggled to maintain his balance so he could touch me with it.
At that moment a wide, round red beam reached down from space, bathing us in an eerie light.
I opened my mouth, trying to shout Rax’s name. Garbled noises came out instead, and everything began to fade from sight.
-35-
It felt as if pins and needles jabbed into my flesh. Then I could almost feel my constituent atoms torn apart and turned into energy as the “I” of Logan was transported off the Earth’s surface to the orbital alien vessel.
I materialized painfully on a cold platform, my atoms seemingly shoved into an approximation of my former self. It seemed as if everything was out of order, as if my ears could smell the foul odors while I used my hands to scan the room.
The blue-skinned Jarnevon studied me. She wore a tight-fitting green garment and high-heeled black boots. She had her hands on her shapely hips, and I swear she licked her sensuous lips as our eyes met.
“Rax,” I whispered.
Unguls appeared around me in various frozen poses, no doubt teleported up from the surface along with me.
The Jarnevon smiled. It was a wicked thing and seemed to cause a spark of sensation at the back of my brain. That caused me to wonder if maybe she and I could spend some time together, preferably entwined on a big feather bed. I smiled back at her and even managed a nod.
Her smile vanished, and faster than anyone I’d ever seen, she drew a heavy-looking blaster. She aimed the pitted nozzle at me. I knew I was dead—but she hesitated pulling the trigger for some reason.
During her hesitation, the scene faded from view. It took me a second to realize why. The transportation didn’t hurt this time. It was painless, seamless—
I grunted, falling several inches to land heavily on my side, my chains jangling. A second later, an Ungul landed beside me.
“Subdue him,” Rax said.
I tried to leap onto the Ungul and crashed right back down onto the transporter pad inside the Guard-ship. Rax had teleported us out of the Min Ve’s orbital vessel. Z21—who had apparently transported with us—opened his eyes wider than I think he’d ever done. He scrambled to his feet, and at the last minute, he remembered that he was holding a raygun. He aimed it at me.
I lunged desperately, propelled by my ankles and toes. Realizing I couldn’t reach him in time that way, I spun on my side like a hip-hop artist. I whipped my legs around to strike his. My shins exploded with pain. It was like trying to chop down a tree with my legs.
The raygun glowed, and a spot drilled into the Guard-ship decking. If it went on too long, would Z21 drill a hole through the outer bulkhead and let in the seawater?
From my hips, I thrust up with my shackled feet, striking the back of his knees. That did it. He fell, stumbled down the transporter ledge, and went down hard onto his face.
I humped like a caterpillar, desperate to get to him. It was undignified, slow and maddening. I fell onto him from the transporter pad, and began a frantic struggle for control of the Guard-ship.
He had full use of his limbs, but my bulk lay on top of him. I had little reach, but his throat was right there. I dug my fingers into his flesh and refused to let go. He kneed, hit and bit me, but still I refused to release my death grip. Our eyes met from inches apart.
“Human,” he gurgled. It was his last word.
Finally, he quit breathing and his alien body relaxed. Just as had happened last time, his body seemed to melt and reform into a UFO-like alien, although bulkier than most artists’ conceptions.
I wanted to roll over and go to sleep. This last fight had taken it out of me.
“Hurry,” Rax said. “You must get up. We are under an orbital sensor scan. The Min Ve has found the Guard-ship. He must have locked onto my transporter beam and followed us here.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I shouted. “I’m shackled.”
“Use the Ungul’s weapon,” Rax said. “Burn yourself free. Must I do all the thinking for you?”
I was tired, which meant I wasn’t at my best. A person can only take so much before he snaps.
I snarled to myself, and in a black rage, I searched for the raygun. Recklessly, I beamed the shackles binding my ankles. They parted soon, leaving melted globs of metal on the floor. Then I shouted and danced with pain as the rest of the heated metal burned my ankles.
“Hurry to the control room,” Rax said.
I ran, hopped at the same time, to reach the control room. As I entered, a rod slashed through the water in front of the ship. Another struck, a third, fourth and the
n five more in a group.
The ship shuddered.
“We’re hit,” Rax said.
I leaped for the controls, turning on the shield.
“Faster,” Rax said. “The Min Ve is launching a hell-burner.”
That doused my rage as if someone had tossed a bucket of ice water onto me. I threw myself into the piloting chair, constantly twisting up so I could use both hands—they were still chained together.
The process proved very similar to what had happened off the coast of Greenland. We had no way to stop the hell-burner. The Guard-ship was approximately one hundred miles off the Californian coast, and the alien was targeting us with another of his ultra-nuclear weapons.
I wept at my own impotence, hoping that this wouldn’t kill too many people, wouldn’t wreck the West Coast for years to come. Hopefully, we were far enough out—
“Logan, your mind is wandering.”
I focused. I watched the screen and saw the hell-burner descending through the atmosphere for our tiny Guard-ship.
“Now,” Rax said, “engage the outer transfer now.”
I did. The Guard-ship transferred just like before, and just like before, I witnessed that awful hump of water that meant the detonation of a massive nuclear device. It shot radioactive water into the air. This was terrible. The wind usually blew west onto land from out here. I could hope for a freak wind, but…
From our new location, I slumped in the pilot chair, exhausted.
“Does the Min Ve still have us on his sensors?” I asked.
“I cannot detect that,” Rax said. “I think we are hidden for the moment.”
I nodded dully as the impact of all this struck me. The western coast of the United States was likely going to get a heavy dose of radiation, to say nothing of all the dead marine creatures.
“We must plan,” Rax said.
“Not just yet,” I slurred. “First, I need my beauty sleep. Afterward—” I yawned so my jaw made a popping sound. “I’m going to crash. We can talk afterward.”
I stumbled to the former Guard agent’s sleeping quarters. His bed was too small for me to fit in it comfortably. Before I zonked out, Rax told me about a cutting tool. I used it as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Just in time, I rid myself of the wrist shackles and flopped onto the bed, curling up so I could use the tiny space. I fell asleep almost immediately.
-36-
I woke up ravenous, ready to tackle the next problem—and remembered the alien hell-burner off the West Coast.
Feeling sick at heart, I showered. Afterward, I went to the galley and mechanically ate Guard concentrates. I’d have to stock up on Earth food if I was going to keep using the ship.
After burping several times—my gut ached because it was so full—I went to the piloting chamber. Rax was monitoring the sea around us.
“You have slept long and hard,” Rax informed me. “Now my curiosity can take no more. Please tell me, Logan. What happened while I was in meditation mode?”
“Before we get started, I have to know what the hell-burner did to California.”
“Remarkably little in overall terms,” Rax said. “Your aboriginal friends have acquired luck.”
“I don’t know about that. Surely, the event has to be in the news.”
“Explain this to me,” Rax said.
I did. Shortly thereafter, we cruised near the surface as Rax picked up human-generated signals. We watched Fox News, switching to CNN later. They were covering the nuclear detonation, all right. The going consensus among the talking heads and their military experts was that the North Koreans had done it. I could understand their thinking, although I doubted the Communists over there had a nuke that big.
What surprised me was that the U.N. was having an emergency session. Normally, people didn’t react this fast. Then again, normally no one was firing hell-burners into the world’s oceans. The President of the United States was going to address the U.N. and list his demands regarding the North Koreans. The veiled hint was Chinese collusion with the mad Koreans.
“If I don’t help to put a stop to this,” I said, “the last hell-burner could be the spark that launches a world war.”
“Your species does love to quarrel,” Rax said, sounding superior.
“After watching the Unguls in action, I’d say that makes Earthmen about average.”
“That is an interesting comment,” Rax said. “You are the first person I have ever heard comparing his species to Unguls. Most Galactic races would consider that a demeaning insult.”
“Why don’t you shove it?”
“What causes this excessive irritation, Logan?”
“Are you kidding me? The President is ready to go to war. I wonder what the Greenland nuke has done to world opinion. The people of Earth must believe there is a vast conspiracy taking place. I have to go public with what I know.”
“I have already told you that that is against Guard policy,” Rax said.
“Screw Guard policy,” I said. “I have to avert a nuclear war.”
“The best way to do that is to stop the Min Ve. That is why the Galactic Guard is here.”
I blinked at Rax. Was that the right move? How could I know? I guess I couldn’t know. I’d have to make an educated guess.
“According to your pulse rate, you are finally calming down,” Rax said. “That is wise. Hotheaded decisions are seldom the right ones.”
I grunted, as that made sense.
“If you could tell me what transpired in Nevada,” Rax said, “I would appreciate it. I seem to have lost time, and I certainly woke up far from where I began meditation mode.”
I looked at Rax. Finally, I turned off the news. I’d heard enough. Maybe the little crystal was right. If I told the world about the Min Ve, there would be worldwide panic. I would make things worse, not better. The U.N. and the U.S. President could deal with the human crisis. I had to concentrate on the alien problem.
“I don’t think you were in meditation mode,” I said. “It was a lot freakier than that. Here’s what happened.”
I told Rax everything. I expected him to interrupt. He did not. The little crystal absorbed my words. Finally, I finished the tale, and then drained a glass of water.
“That is an astounding story,” Rax said. “I am intrigued that your friend Parker Gaines felt evil in the white tower. You felt evil in the Greenland complex. It is possible the two are connected.”
“I agree,” I said.
“I would suggest the white structure is not a tower, however, but an ancient, grounded spaceship.”
“You could be right,” I said. “That makes more sense. It must have landed a long time ago, right?”
“I believe so,” Rax said. “I have analyzed your tale in varying degrees. It holds logically. It is consistent with my—do you believe I was dead while out of phase at Far Butte?”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” I said. “But if you were dead, by what mechanism did you come back to life?”
“That is an excellent question,” Rax said. “It would imply I was not dead, but in some form of suspended animation.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“I detect sadness in you.”
“I’m sad and pissed,” I said.
“You desire to find your new friend Debby?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But how do I do that? Did the Min Ve blast them with orbital rods? It doesn’t appear the Organizer launched a hell-burner at Nevada. We would have heard about that on the news. If the Min Ve didn’t blast the tower, did the tower go back out of phase, and if it did, how can we return there?”
“We must use a spy drone’s passive sensors to discover the present situation,” Rax said.
I stood, walked to the hatch, turned around and walked back to the pilot’s chair. I did that twenty more times.
“Does the pacing stimulate your thinking?” Rax asked.
I chewed on my lower lip. I remembered Debby’s lips against mine. I remembered what she felt like p
ressed against my body. The other half of the time, rage tried to bubble up in a comment or have me strike a piece of delicate Guard equipment. I resisted both impulses. Yet another half of the time, I felt my impotence. The fourth half couldn’t believe I was in such a crazy situation. Yes, that was far too many halves. But this was such an unbelievable problem. Could Debby really be lost, stuck out of phase in an ancient spaceship grounded at Far Butte? Had she really said her dad had died during Operation Ripper in 1951? Was the world on the verge of a nuclear exchange?
I focused on Rax, the sole representative of the Galactic Guard on Earth.
“Debby told me she polished an ornament inside the white ship. She said the ornament had cracks. She also said that sometimes, people in Far Butte found the right kind of crystal, and she inserted the crystal into a matrix, trying to repair the ornament.”
“We must concentrate all our efforts against the Organizer,” Rax said, “not worry about these side issues.”
“I don’t know if that’s right,” I said. “The ornament sounds important to me.”
“Nonsense,” Rax said. “Regarding the Organizer—”
“You wouldn’t be trying to avoid talking about this ornament, would you?” I asked.
“That is preposterous. Now, if we are going to solve the problem—”
“Rax!” I said.
“There is no need to shout,” the crystal said. “I am right here.”
“You’re trying to derail me.”
“Logan, I will have you know—”
“That’s not going to work, Rax. The more you try to dodge the issue, the more I want to know about the alien ornament.”
“You are wasting precious time with your fixation on Debby. I realize there must be a sexual component to this. We must—”
“What is the alien crystal ornament?” I asked. “Why is it aboard an ancient spaceship hidden in Nevada for who knows how long? Why did it take nuclear weapon tests to wake it up?”
“You cannot expect me to know the secrets of lost expeditions.”
Invaders Page 20
