“Momma,” she looked over at the blond curly-haired five-year-old by her side. She was looking forward and pointing with a crooked little finger toward the beach. Before looking up, she knew that Cameron was already into something. Linda followed her gaze, which was set on Cameron. He had found a thin, three-foot-long piece of driftwood and was poking something rather large floating in the surf that appeared to be dead and was washing up onto the beach. Linda stood to get a better look and realized that from her vantage point the likeness was that of a very large man lying face down in the water. The lack of movement led her to believe that whoever or whatever it had been was no longer among the living.
“Get back from the water. Get back!” she yelled while feverishly pumping her burning legs through the loose sand to get to him. She cursed herself for ever letting him get too far in front. She should have made him wait to go to the water.
Linda couldn’t tell what it was that was floating in the water but concluded that it had definitely looked human in its shape, but something was clearly unique about it. The color was odd, and the head seemed especially deformed and disproportionate to what she could see of the body, which was possibly due to bloating. This time of day she always feared sharks as it was a prominent time for feeding, but this thing seemed like its death occurred long before washing ashore. This did not appear to be shark related. As she drew closer, Linda could see that it was unequivocally something unidentifiable.
Cameron let out a loud scream as a green three-fingered hand reached out and grabbed his ankle and began pulling him into the surf. With all the strength the seven-year-old could muster, he swung the piece of driftwood at the arm of the creature while fighting to get free. After a few seconds of struggling, Cameron lost his balance and fell onto his butt while sliding into the surf. Out of desperation, the boy began digging his hands and free foot into the sand in resistance. Just as a wave crashed onto the beach, Linda caught him under the shoulders and began to pull backward. Cameron was anxiously using his free foot to push away from the water, but the grip was unrelenting.
A large wave crested and crashed into them sending Cameron and Linda onto their backs. As the wave dissipated and slid back into the gulf, she realized that it had pushed the creature on top of them. She had never seen anything like it before. A large bulbous head, and what she assumed was its face, was looking down on her through eyes with dark green marbled pupils. The smell made her gasp. Cameron was covered up by the creature’s midsection. She screamed and cried out for help while struggling to push the humanoid creature off.
From her right, an object came flying in and struck the round green head of the creature. She heard a loud tink as metal bounced off the large bone plates that covered the alien being’s head. He swung a second and third time, but it seemed to have no effect on the creature. The man dropped the shovel and began to roll the alien being off the mother and son as a second man approached.
Cameron was crying when they pulled him from under the creature, but the three fingers still had a hold of him. The two men attempted to pry them apart, but like a steel vice, the fingers would not spread apart and release the boy. He cautiously placed the shovel at the fingertips and attempted to slide it between them, to no avail.
“Pull the boy up away from the water,” the man instructed. Linda, without asking questions, did as he asked. The arm of the creature was extended above its body. As if swinging an ax, the middle-aged man lifted the shovel over his head and brought the edge down across the forearm area with all the force he could muster. The arm reacted and the elbow dug into the sand. On the second strike, the fingers on the hand seemed to have no option but to release. Linda pulled him away from the water crying as they backed away from the surf and the creature.
“What is it?” Linda asked while attempting to regulate her breathing.
“I don’t know. I’ve seen debris everywhere the last several days. This is the third one of these things that I have seen on the beach just this morning. All within the last mile or so. I called the police after the first one. They thought that I was crazy until I sent them a photo. I’m surprised that they are not combing the beaches looking for more. The beach will be covered with government officials soon…I suppose.” He stood and pointed southward showing the other man, “look, you can see at least half a dozen more down there.”
“What are they? They are everywhere,” the second man said.
The small bridge in the Stur Craft was designed to comfortably accommodate three people on long journeys without making them feel as if they had been shoved in a tin can while piloting the craft. The people of Viennin, by Logan’s estimation, were on average of about ten to fifteen percent larger than the average American. At least based upon what Honoré had told them and from what he observed when meeting the members of his team. Most boats or ships had to make the most out of every square inch resulting in smaller passageways, bathrooms, galleys, and showers. Now that he was in the transport, the seats, door openings everything seemed large for a vessel with limited footage. There was room to move and claustrophobia was not an immediate issue.
A large single piece of five-foot-high, transparent plate wrapped the bridge providing one-hundred and eighty degrees of views from which to navigate. The viewing radius seemed better than many cars or planes he had been in. Honoré offered the two unoccupied seats to anyone that wanted them on a first come first serve basis, which meant that one person would be left out and have to exit the bridge. It took them all by surprise when Logan declined and opted for one of the rooms in the interior. He watched as Ayla excitedly plopped into the center chair like a child on a ride at a theme park. This was the chance of a lifetime for the curious and analytically minded person she was. It was more beneficial for her to have the experience especially considering her degree in science. Logan felt that Ayla deserved as much joy as life could offer considering the mess they were in and the potential dark times that loomed.
She became startled and almost jumped up when the chair automatically began to move as it adjusted to her body type. The seat reduced in length in order to take unnecessary pressure off the back of her legs behind the knee. The sides moved in around her hips and tiny pockets filled up with a warm jell conforming perfectly with the curvature of the spine and muscles in the back. From the floor, a small crescent-shaped footrest rose up and stopped when Ayla’s feet were firmly resting on it.
For Gunner, the chair did much the opposite and needed to expand to suit his large frame and long legs. The jell moved from one pocket to another until the chair had equally distributed pressure to all parts of his back and legs, “Wow, this is incredibly comfortable. Where do I get one of these?”
“Well, we have to take long trips. You think that you appreciate that chair now. Wait until you’ve been out for a month,” Honoré said with a smile.
“I hope we’re not gone that long,” Gunner replied.
While Honoré helped his new crew settle in, Logan ventured to the center of the craft looking for any incriminating information about their host while still on the ground. He was less interested in becoming acquainted with the craft than he should have been. There was an odd-looking room with an open door. It was rectangular in shape with four seats, two rows of two. The seats weren’t as fancy as the ones in the bridge but were perched upon what looked like a ball joint. Intrigue got the better of him and he walked over and cautiously slid into one expecting to be dumped over and onto the metal floor. To his surprise, the chair didn’t move and was solid. Logan shifted his weight in all directions testing the chair, which had no slack.
Honoré walked through the sliding door and watched as Logan’s test was ongoing. “Look, I told them already, but I just wanted you to know that due to the atmospheric differences between Earth and Econ, over the duration of this transfer there will be subtle changes in the air mixture and pressure. It will happen at such a reduced level that unless you get sick, you won’t even know it is happening. It is better to do it n
ow then have you, and even us, struggling when we get there. Also, there will be supplements, as you Earth people call them, provided with every meal to maximize your body’s immune strength to help prevent any issues with local bacteria and viruses. They don’t want you guys getting sick over there. We aren’t sure how you would handle it…and, to be honest, I don’t even know if these supplements are going to help at all. If nothing else, convince yourself that they’re helping. Mind over matter…right? By the way, when you are ready to fully experience this room, just push that button. I have it set up already.”
“What’s it going to do…shock me, shoot me into deep space, lobotomy? What?” Logan said with a bit of concern.
“Don’t want to ruin it for you. For safety reasons and because I don’t want you to puke on my floor, I would wait until we are away from Earth first. You are in for a treat.”
“Okay,” Logan replied hesitantly wondering what he meant by “treat.”
Honoré left the room. Logan listened as the hard-soled boots clanked on the metal floor and faded as he walked away and passed through the bridge door. Logan was less interested in the novelty of the experience of the Stur Craft and the whole zooming through space thing than seeing Sonia. He could not stop thinking about her. What was she like? How had she changed? What has she seen or experienced? How had all of this influenced her psychologically? Would she ever be able to recover? What would life be like if she were to return to Earth? How would they explain her sudden reappearance to the local authorities when they returned to Earth? Thoughts and concerns flooded his mind, some of which were legitimate, and others seemed inconsequential and could be dealt with in due time. He attempted to navigate them and focus using the limited information he was afforded while fighting his subconscious distrust of the entire situation. His gut told him Sonia was alive. His rational mind said otherwise and that he was being set up or used in some capacity. For all he really knew, the story they were told of her was nothing more than bait in a trap. But why him and Ayla? Maybe they knew too much and they needed to be dealt with. He felt his side and retrieved the Glock. If things were to go south, at least he had some capacity to protect himself and Ayla unlike on St. Lucia where the telenium required hand to hand combat. Logan returned the pistol and considered getting the telenium out of the bag as a secondary line of defense. He reconsidered as it endangered those around him. The craft lifted and surged forward.
He half expected the Stur Craft to be little more than an exotic ride simulator at a theme park that would move up, down, forward and backward creating some fantastic illusion of something that never actually occurred. It would return to its original position then a recorded voice would ring out with instructions to remove the seatbelt and exit the ride to the left. To his surprise, the vessel lifted upward and never seemed to return.
The trip out of the Earth’s atmosphere wasn’t what Ayla expected. All she had ever known were the videos of the astronauts in small confined cockpits, pinned to their chairs by the g-force of booster rockets fighting gravity to get through the first stage of launch. This was nothing like that. It was less exciting than taking off in an airplane. The craft didn’t need a runway to get to a certain speed before liberating it from the gravitational stranglehold that had forced its grounding. The craft casually lifted into the air just as effortlessly as it had landed then darted upward. The ride was smooth and within seconds they were beyond the cloud filled skies and were looking back at Earth’s blue oceans. Ayla experienced no nausea, disorientation or breathlessness. Her movements were never obstructed.
Logan retrieved his wallet and flipped it open. Sandwiched in the leather was a photo of a young girl with neatly brushed curly blond hair with a pink bow on the side. He looked at it just as he had done hundreds of times before reliving the night when she disappeared. Logan didn’t know why he did it. It was almost a way to punish himself from time to time for reasons he didn’t understand. Sonia’s abduction had nothing to do with him, despite what anyone said. Perhaps it was based upon the guilt for having lived a good life while he had no idea if Sonia was alive, tortured or even on Earth as it now seemed.
He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. When he did so, the seat fluidly moved backward. He found himself somehow lying on his back in a sitting position staring at the ceiling wondering why it moved on its own. It seemed that the ball joint had either failed, or Honoré was messing with him. The sliding doors opened again and Ayla took a step in and paused when she saw the predicament Logan was in. When he turned to the right to look toward the door, the chair bolted to an upright position. In the blink of an eye, he spun to face her. The chair had moved so quickly he wondered how he avoided pulling a muscle in his neck.
“You are not going to believe this, but we really are in space. I watched the entire liftoff and Florida and the US shrink as we left the atmosphere. It was so quick and fascinating,” the excitement on her face made him smile. “This thing is full of weird gadgets,” she sat in the chair while looking at him. “You nervous? Who is that?” she asked noticing the photo in his hand.
“My sister,” he handed the photo to her.
“She is so young.”
“She was ten when she…disappeared. I wonder what she would look like after twenty years. Especially after what she has been through,” Logan said.
“Dunno mate,” she replied somberly.
Logan looked back at the photo, “Every night for what seemed like an eternity, I had to relive the memory of my mom and dad’s reaction when they realized that Sonia was gone…possibly never to be found. The hopelessness, the anxiety of a child lost or in the hands of a monster. My mom in panicked hysteria, desperate to find her daughter. For months I sat in my room and listened to my mom cry every night and morning. It was like she just expected her to show up for dinner or breakfast. It was horrible. Her life was never the same. My mom died that night. My dad wanted to be strong, he would go out to the shed and that is where he would cry and pray for her to be found,” he looked forward, “if this is true and she was taken and if she is there, will you take my sister back to Earth with you?”
Ayla’s head popped up and gave a concerned look, “Why don’t you bring her back?”
“I’ve had a lifetime with my parents compared to her. I love them and don’t want to hurt them, but if all of this is true, I won’t be able to just throw her into a spaceship and call it even. I can’t just fly off into the sunset. How do I do that? The sound of my mom crying is always here,” he said pointing to his head. “That memory will never leave me. This may sound awful to you, but I want to bring as much suffering to those who took her as my parents went through…that all the parents of the missing children went through. All the suffering that those people on the beach went through and all the artificial natural disasters before that.”
“You are one man. How can you stop them?” she looked intently at him.
“I can help those who can,” Logan replied.
“Have you forgotten; they are on Earth. We can stop them there…fight them there…kill them there,” Ayla continued to stare at him.
The craft shifted and he instinctively reached down to grab the armrest accidentally finding Ayla’s hand. When he realized, Logan immediately let go and began to pull it back. She caught him and pulled it toward her placing her hands on both sides. Logan turned and she was waiting for him.
Ayla leaned over and kissed his cheek, “I’m really sorry. If I got you into this mess. I feel responsible for getting you involved in this. What is even worse is that the more time I spend with you I am increasingly glad that you are involved and that you are here. Since all of this started, this is the safest I have felt. I know, that seems a bit selfish.”
Logan sat up and looked at her employing gentle sarcasm and asked, “Why, did you kidnap my sister? I don’t think you had anything to do with that.”
She knew right away that the comment was made to deflect her guilt, “Well…right. But if I had not pulled you
to the bar that day, you would not have been nearly killed…what, four or five times now? Perhaps life for you would have carried on and you would not have to relive this.”
“Not exactly true, what about the thing from the dive after I found that telenium? Maybe I would have died in that tsunami. Look, I’m glad you did. Besides, it really seems like it wouldn’t have mattered at this point. They got me involved the second they took my sister. She was found and Honoré would have tracked me down anyway. Perhaps on the dark side of considerations, would you be alive, or taken right now?” Without thinking it through, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek as she had done. Logan was surprised when her hand slid behind his head and pulled him down to her. Ayla pressed her lips against his. It was a long drawn out moment of affection that caught Logan by surprise. He had been attracted to her from the moment he walked through the French doors and saw her sitting at the bar. Despite having no clue who she was, in the back of his mind, he had hoped to remedy that at some point during the trip. Yet he did not expect it to happen in such a bizarre manner. She was beautiful, smart, incredibly brave, and now he was locked in an intimate moment with her that he didn’t want to end.
Without any warning, the room filled with light and dimensional sounds of thrusters, plasma cannons and laser rounds going off. The chairs spun sharply to the left to face the forward wall. They looked at each other, then around for an explanation as to what was happening. Panels on the ceiling slid apart then magnetically attached at the ends transforming the once square room into a dome. Something screamed as it passed from front to back at such a speed that neither could get a good look at it. A second vessel passed from right to left in front of them and banked before firing off several rounds just over their heads. Ayla’s gaze followed the blue-white rounds and turned her head to look behind them. The chair followed her head movements and spun one-hundred and eighty degrees as the rounds passed by and homed in on a craft that was approaching in the distance. Before it had a chance to take any evasive action, the rounds detonated on the port side causing a massive explosion. A wall of red-orange fire expanded as it approached them at supersonic speed. The intensity of the growing fireball caused them both to squint just as it overran them. They were hit with a wall of heat just as the chairs shook violently from the explosion.
Universal Code Page 40
