Ship Wrecked

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “Why?”

  “Mainly because I liked the alien being. I determined he had good-enough intentions, as I believe you do … too. I hope I have chosen wisely. You are an honorable human … I take it?”

  Cameron thought about that. “I try to be,” he said.

  “Well, that’s all someone can ask for, isn’t it?”

  “Guess so. So what should I call you?”

  “Pick a name. It really doesn’t matter since I am more than a single individual. Think of me as parallel processing on steroids.”

  Cameron looked about the surprisingly cozy surroundings. The artistic lines, the organic feel to it all. “Um … how about Art?”

  “Art it is!”

  “Okay, cool. So Art … I want to ask you about this display with the flashing data bursts and strange symbols … but first, can you tell me where the Minal Loth is? Like right at this second?”

  “Sure you want to know?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “Eleven feet from that hatchway you recently entered through.”

  Chapter 34

  “Am I safe in here?”

  “Perfectly.”

  “Does the creature know I’m in here?”

  “Well, I’m not a mind reader, Cameron. With that said, the creature followed a deliberate course. Seemed to be aware of your presence once you traversed down to the valley floor from that mountainside ridge. The Minal Loth ended up sniffing around your truck parked outside. So I would say yes, the creature knows you are close. It tracked you here.”

  “Can you shoo it away? Maybe zap it in some way? Scare it off?”

  “I thought you wanted to catch it?” Art queried.

  “I do, but I’m not ready. I want to sneak up on it.”

  “Oh, I see. No, I’m not really into weaponry and the like, or taking sides either. A good reason why I wouldn’t make for a very effective ship’s AI. Sorry.”

  Frustrated, Cameron, about to ask Art, Then what the hell good are you? held his tongue. The Loth was his problem and not this friendly AI’s, or consciousness’s or whatever it was.

  “Sorry, didn’t know you were a pacifist,” Cameron said.

  “Oh, that’s okay. We’re still amigos, right?”

  From outside came a distant noise—an animal’s trumpeting roar. Even knowing that the sound came from far away still sent a shiver down Cameron’s spine. He asked Art, “A Gleery Beast?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Are we safe from that one, too?”

  The long extended silence spoke volumes. Finally, “Probably.”

  “Just probably?”

  “I do not believe a Gleery Beast is the least bit interested in this Tangine-Shell. Unlike the Loth, which is highly intelligent, the Gleery Beast is what you would consider dumb as a doorknob,” Art replied.

  Only partially relieved, Cameron changed the subject. “Tell me, how do you know how to say things like that? Like, dumb as a doorknob?”

  “Cameron, I’m going to tell you something that may surprise you.”

  “At this point, I seriously doubt that’s possible,” Cameron interjected cynically.

  “On Earth … numerous forms of alien life have visited, even lived among your kind for thousands of years. Many still do. They come and go as we speak. In our case, the Priopax, we are connected … tapped-in … to Earth’s knowledge in all its varied forms. For instance, we know you previously lived in Texas, prior to recently moving to New York.”

  “So that explains the cowboy jargon? That’s for me?”

  “Who else, young hombre? You know, Earth humans are a fascinating bunch. We, this consciousness you now call Art, are not new to Earth’s current human condition. Thoroughly entertained by it, in fact, we Priopax exist to learn … and we learn through our existence.”

  “Well, good for you. Namaste, and all that. But I need to survive this ordeal and get back home. Somehow. Preferably, while I can still move around without the use of a walker. Right now, there’s another creature out there that would love to eat me. Can you help me, or not?”

  “Oh, on that … good news! It looks like the Minal Loth has fled deeper into the trees, currently moving away from the Gleery Beast. I suggest you rest now. The HOD Ramen had installed here, is much the same as the one you used onboard the Primion.”

  “Back to the Gleery Beast. Where is it?”

  “Not far. Paying more attention now to several tree-dwelling primates.”

  “Alice mentioned a countdown,” Cameron said.

  “Sixteen hours-and-twelve minutes still remain,” Art replied.

  “Okay.” Cameron was indeed tired. A few hours’ sleep just might do him some good. “Wake me in three hours?”

  “You nod off a spell … I’ve got your back.”

  Cameron wanted to tell Art—this verbose collective consciousness entity— to knock-off with the annoying cowboy talk for a while, but he didn’t have the energy. Placing an open palm on the side of the HOD’s glass-like side panel, he waited for it to retract downward. After sitting down, he debated whether or not to remove his boots. Best not. He brought his legs inside and leaned back, pulling the plasma gun free from his waistband. Placing it at his side, it lay mere inches from his hand. As the HOD’s side panels rose back into a closed position, he tried to quiet his racing mind. Tried not to think about the Gleery Beast and the Minal Loth, both probably within a stone’s throw of where he now lay. He thought about Heather and felt a growing sense of loss. He needed to think about something else.

  “Art? Can you explain the display … the one I saw with the symbols and flashes?”

  The display then appeared before him. On the inside of the curved surface, seeming identical to what he’d viewed earlier, were rows and rows of various strange characters and slowly rotating symbols. Only then did he realize that as the symbols rotated, they also changed into completely new, and different, ones. Every few seconds, or so, there was a flash—more like a scattering of screen elements.

  “How do you read this?”

  “What you are looking at is a ship’s entry sheet. What you would call the ship’s ‘state of affairs.’ It is written in the modern Thidion text language of Leathan. Humans are mostly accustomed to standard Alphanumeric … a combination of alphabetic and numeric characters … used to describe the collection of Latin letters and Arabic digits, or a text constructed …”

  “I know what Alphanumeric is, Art.”

  Art continued, “The Thidion text language of Leathan is a far more robust written communications methodology. Each line of characters and symbols presented on the screen communicates something, which is more fully elaborated on by the corresponding rotating symbols. Comparatively, the observer can glean far more information from Leathan than from any written, or oral, language you’d find on Earth. Or the observer can choose to ignore the progressively complex level of detail. Note that there are seventy-five characters and six hundred-and-fourteen variant symbol choices. The periodic spectral flash integers are similar to what you would call the flipping of a page. Although with Leathan, much information is included within that two-second data flash. The Thidion mindset is accustomed to taking in vast amounts of data in a short amount of time …”

  Assisted by Art’s slow, country-bumpkin ramblings, Cameron drifted into a restless sleep.

  * * *

  Cameron awoke to total mayhem. The crown of his head banged against the HOD’s inside surface—his body momentarily weightless. Then he found himself upside-down and falling. The padded flooring absorbed some of the impact as the HOD slammed down hard, before again becoming airborne. An outside impact on the HOD’s side next propelled it—and Cameron along with it—against the inside of the now-toppling over-and-over Tangine-Shell. Reaching out with his hands, Cameron tried to brace himself for the next impact. He felt sick and disoriented, as though trapped within a cat’s play toy—at the mercy of the cat’s next swipe of a paw.

  “Art! What is happening?”

/>   No answer.

  Projected HOD warning messages, one after another, depicted the dire situation.

  Danger! Instability of HOD Unit

  Power Fluctuations Occurring . . .

  Occupant’s Heart Rate Exceeding Safe Parameters

  Even with pandemonium going around him, some abstract part of Cameron’s brain noticed the semi-transparent HOD surface had turned a different color. Blood red. His head hurt, specifically his nose. Dizzy, he was losing consciousness—then, only blackness.

  Cameron awoke in semi-darkness, lying on his stomach. Sore all over, he felt as though he’d spent an hour within the spin-cycle of a washing machine. He reached a hand out, feeling the surfaces around him. That’s strange, he thought. Somehow his body was now oriented in a completely opposite direction than it was before—his head positioned where his feet once were. With considerable effort, he lifted himself onto his elbows and turned his head. Not good. A sliver of light could be seen coming in from outside—a breach, of some sort, to the Tangine-Shell.

  Continuing to stare at it while listening, he looked down at a small pool of blood on the same spot his head had laid. Startled, he noticed ripples, coinciding with the sound of heavy footfalls outside. Impact tremor. A dark shadow crossed outside, past the now open breached area.

  Chapter 35

  Feeling claustrophobic, Cameron wanted out—right now! He placed his palm flat on the inside surface but nothing happened. Terrific … the power’s out. Using the same hand, he felt around the HOD’s interior until he found what he was looking for. He brought the plasma weapon up and, pointing it toward a spot at the opposite end of the HOD from his head, he hesitated. It might simply ricochet, be the last stupid thing I ever do. Squeezing the handgrip, a blindingly bright pulse was emitted, creating a hole the size of a cantaloupe. No way I’m going to fit through that. Aiming up, to the left of the hole, he fired again. He repeated re-aiming, then firing, until the opening was almost large enough for him to squeeze through. One more should do it. He closed his eyes against the flash’s glare and fired off another plasma bolt. That did the job.

  A series of red symbols at the top of the weapon began flashing something. With a pretty good idea what the gun was telling him, he aimed through the opening and squeezed the handgrip. Nothing happened. The weapon had been completely depleted of energy.

  Feet first, Cameron wiggled and squirmed out through the rough opening on the side of the HOD. Glancing around him, the Tangine-Shell was a mess. Areas were dented inward and absent was the soft indirect lighting. It looked dead.

  “Art? Are you still here? Hello …”

  Cameron reached back inside the HOD and retrieved the dead plasma weapon. After he’d tucked it into the waistline of his pants, he began looking for the satchel—Ramen’s trinious bundle. He found it on the far side of the shell. Still in one piece, he used the attached strap to secure it over his shoulder. He glanced at the entrance he’d first entered through with the series of indentations on the right. Without power, would the hatchway even open? Next, his eyes were drawn to the breached gap on the lower side of the shell. Startled, he saw a ginormous green eye staring back at him; it blinked.

  The eye disappeared, quickly replaced by two sets of Gleery Beast claws frantically trying to pry the open gap further apart. Suddenly, the Tangine-Shell flipped sideways, and Cameron was thrown to its opposite side—landing there in a heap. More light was penetrating in, which meant only one thing—the shell was splitting apart. Oh God …. This isn’t good.

  Cameron reached for the plasma gun wedged under his belt, silently praying it had miraculously recharged in such a short bit of time. When the constantly tossed around shell flipped upward, Cameron saw the eye again. The eye, and now a significant part of the beast’s head. Pointing the weapon, he hesitated. Suppose there’s only enough charge for a single shot. Suppose I miss?

  Once more, the beast’s claws were back at work, tearing into the ever- widening gap. Breathless, Cameron tried to ignore his heart’s throbbing—pounding like a bass drum in his ears. Obviously, the monster craved to feast on the chewy human nugget just inside. He thought of Heather, wishing he’d gotten back home to her. If he survived this—somehow made his way back to Earth—things would be different. But he knew it was not to be, that this was the end. Face the facts, Cam. He momentarily contemplated just shooting himself. No, not in my nature. He pointed the muzzle at the gap. He saw movement and squeezed the handgrip. Noting happened. He was fairly certain it needed more time to recharge—time he didn’t have.

  Uh, terrific, the gun, like him, was powerless.

  Again thrown off his feet, the shell was flipped one way then the other. Disoriented, he searched for the gap and found it wide enough to crawl through. Now, if only the Gleery Beast would take a breather. Go find some other, easier to get at, prey. Hell, what was wrong with feasting on the herd of dead Bovids, upstream? A lot more meat on their bones.

  Something big and black slithered into the gap, missing him by mere inches. Cameron, at first, thought it was some kind of serpent—an oddly shaped snake. I should be so lucky, he thought, quickly aware it was the Gleery Beast’s tongue— being thrust in and out of the gap. A warm gust of retched-up exhalation filled the shell, causing Cameron to gag and retch in response. He dove away, as the fork-tipped tongue-licker brushed past his legs. Attempting to become less accessible, he tried to huddle into a narrower part of the shell, but the bulky trinious bundle, lying across his back, prevented it.

  Then both the rotten smell and the darting tongue were gone as more light entered through the gap. What is happening?

  The Tangine-Shell flipped over again and Cameron became momentarily weightless. As the rear of the shell pummeled his body, he felt himself propelled toward the open gap. Landing hard, just above the gap, he was again weightless and again being pummeled.

  Evidently, the Gleery Beast was gyrating the Tangine-Shell around like a big saltshaker—Cameron being the salt in this scenario. Flung out of the shell abruptly, he fell through the air. In a flash, he saw his truck by the stream, the sandy ground coming up fast below him. He thought, Good, the fall will probably kill me.

  Cameron landed in the water—his fall partially softened—but it still hurt. Hoping the tide would carry him away to safety, his prayers were quickly dashed. He’d landed in the farthest stream away, not in the center river. This stream had no current to speak of.

  Rising to his knees, he stopped. For the first time, Cameron had a full-on view of the towering creature. Standing before him, it really seemed similar to a Mesozoic Era dinosaur. Big as a building, looking ferocious, it peered down at him. Its head was tilted to one side, as though wondering what to do with him.

  This is it, Cameron thought. “Just get it over with, will you?” he yelled upward.

  The Gleery Beast took a heavy step forward and the whole world shook. Bending over, Cameron was immersed in its shadow and saw it reach out a stubby clawed arm in his direction. He closed his eyes. Trying to swallow—no luck with that—he waited for the end to come. There was an undefined wet sounding noise nearby. The ground shook again and water splashed up onto his face. Cameron blinked his eyes open and blinked several more times. It didn’t make sense. He must be seeing things wrong. Why is the Gleery Beast on its back? Why are its entrails being torn from its underbelly?

  Cameron slowly got to his feet, grimacing at both the violence and the gore. Moving fast—a blur of motion—the Minal Loth was now at the Gleery Beast’s throat, tearing it apart. Mesmerized, seeing all that was going on around him, he marveled at how much the Loth had grown in so short a time. About four feet tall, the last time he’d seen it aboard the ship, it now had to be eight or nine feet in height. A hell of a lot smaller than the fallen Gleery Beast, yet large enough to show who the real king of the forest was around here.

  Cameron took a tentative step backward and then another. Venturing a quick glance over his shoulder, he found his truck about twenty-five f
eet away. Easy does it. Continuing to walk backward in the stream, knowing there was plenty to keep the Loth occupied, he took another step backward, then another. Afraid to let hope infiltrate his thoughts. Still … I just might make it out of here alive. Maybe.

  The Loth, ceasing its frenetic feeding, was now studying him. Was interested in him. It opened its mouth and made a series of high and low pitched honking sounds.

  “No!” he said. The singular word expelled from Cameron’s mouth came out in a girlish-sounding whine. Petrified, Cameron glanced again at the truck and knew it may as well be a hundred miles away. He’d never reach it in time.

  Wide-eyed and paralyzed, Cameron watched as the no-longer-a-baby Minal Loth skittered toward him on its six, tentacle-like, legs. Not with the lightning fast movements it made attacking the Gleery Beast, but with ones that seemed more intentional. Again, Cameron closed his eyes, waiting for a quick ending to come.

  But it was much, much, worse than that.

  Chapter 36

  The Loth approached, stopped, and quickly hopped over to Cameron’s left side, then hopped back to his right. It skittered around in a tight circle until it, too, was in the water, spinning this way and that. Now all six of its tentacles were flapping and flopping, churning the water high up in the air. Like being drenched in a torrential downpour, Cameron watched the creature’s antics with fascination.