Paranormals (Book 2): We Are Not Alone

by Andrews, Christopher

  “Ensign Spratt,” Taka-whatever said to one of the guards, “make sure we have a clear path to solitary confinement. We’re going to need broad-range detention for our friend here.” As that guard took off running, he turned to another, “Lieutenant Craig, if you and Ensign Delman could please escort Mister Cooper to D-wing — he’s going to need a shower and a meal.”

  Cooper nodded his agreement, but he was still staring at the creature.

  The Lieutenant turned his way. “You won’t be making any trouble, will you, Mister Cooper?”

  “No, sir,” Cooper said, his voice trembling with so many emotions, he couldn’t name them all. “I won’t be any trouble. I’m done with trouble. I’m sick of it.”

  “That’s good to hear, Mister Cooper. For what it’s worth, this fellow’s trouble is just beginning.”

  VORTEX, SHINING STAR, TAKAYASU, AND SHOCKWAVE

  “That,” Callin stated, “is an Egnolan male.”

  The four of them stared at the Egnolan, and he stared back at Callin. After a moment, Takayasu asked, “So he’s definitely another extraterrestrial? You’re certain he couldn’t be an Earthborn paranormal?”

  “Reasonably certain,” Callin replied, staring down at the other alien in distaste. “I have never seen one in person before, but I’ve seen images and learned about them from Larr. They have a very felonious reputation, even worse than the prewar-Verauns.”

  “And the Taalu,” the prisoner suddenly said, “a reputation for the cowardice. Always running away from to fight.”

  If he wanted a reaction from Callin, he did not get it ... unless the reaction he wanted was stolid silence — that he got aplenty.

  Steve, for his part, was still riding an emotional high from the evening’s previous events. Granted, he felt bad for Lincoln when, halfway to the pit, he’d gotten called away to deal with a more traditional rogue crisis (though Pendler was obviously more relieved than disappointed), but in the end, it was Vortex who was critical to Takayasu’s plan.

  Callin had, of course, wanted to take part in their little trap from the beginning, but Larr had convinced him that, if their quarry was indeed an alien bounty hunter, with access to their level of advanced technology, he might detect any Taalu presence. So, with bitter reluctance, Callin agreed to stay behind. Rather than taking off with a Taalu communicator — the technology of which might have blown the trap even faster than Callin’s presence — they had left Powerhouse’s phone behind, with promises to call the instant they had any news to report, one way or the other.

  After the trap was sprung, and as Takayasu and Shockwave escorted the prisoner down to solitary, Steve called Callin right away, and in surprisingly little time, he was meeting Callin outside the rogue pit. As they headed for the main gate, Steve grew conscious of activity from above. He glanced up to see a handful of guards gathered atop the prison wall, gawking and pointing at the Grand Lord — two of them were taking pictures with their phones.

  “Hey, Vortex!” one of them called down.

  “Yeah?”

  “Is that guy new to the PCA?” the guard asked. “I don’t recognize him.”

  Steve smiled. “He’s not with the PCA. He’s a new superhero!” He whispered to Callin, “Turn on your glow.”

  “What?”

  “Turn on your glow, your energy aura.”

  A moment later, Callin was sheathed within his silvery radiance.

  “This,” Steve called up to the guards, “is the Shining Star!”

  The guards chattered amongst themselves and Steve saw more picturing-taking. Their excitement was palpable.

  In that moment, all worries about the bounty hunter’s presence and what that might mean, all aches and pains from his various long-term injuries, all lingering depression over his lost family and misgivings over the fate of their killer ... it all faded into the background. Maybe Callin wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he donned the Vortex uniform in hopes of inspiring others to do likewise, but this moment made up for it.

  Steve couldn’t help but throw a wave up to the guards as they continued taking pictures, and Callin followed his lead. Regardless of how the President and his staff eventually chose to reveal the Taalu’s presence to the world at large, Callin’s personal presence was about to become common knowledge.

  And it felt awesome.

  Down in the pit’s basement, though, they found a more serious crowd: Takayasu, Shockwave, the warden, two suits whom Steve presumed to be government bureaucrats, and a dozen guards crammed together before the cell at the end of the main corridor. Unlike prison designs of the Alcatraz mold, “solitary” here was treated more like interrogation rooms, offering the immured subject no privacy with its full-wall glass on the hall side — it reminded Steve of the cells from Silence of the Lambs. Said “glass” was, of course, reinforced to withstand a paranormal-strength pounding. Each isolated cell sported top anti-rogue technology, and their prisoner, like all other inmates, now bore a psi-jammer on his forehead — any paranormal abilities on his part were dubious at this point (and, if he was an alien, would the psi-jammer even work?), but why take the risk?

  One of the suits — a large Department of Homeland Security ID hanging directly beneath his temporary PCA badge — had stiffened as Steve and Callin approached the cell. “Excuse me, Lieutenant,” the DHS man said to Takayasu, “but are you sure these, uh ...” He eyed their flashy wardrobe with obvious derision. “... civilians are authorized to—?”

  “At this time, Mister La Palma,” Takayasu cut him off, “they actually have more authorization than you do. In fact ...” He turned to the warden. “Lieutenant Commander Falkenberg, now that our special operatives are both here, we could use some privacy.”

  “Now wait a minute—!” La Palma protested.

  Ignoring him, Falkenberg replied to Takayasu, “Not a problem. This fellow hasn’t been very talkative, but I wish you luck.” Turning his boyish smile to the two suits, he extended an inviting arm back toward the stairs. “Well, gentlemen, if you would ...?”

  La Palma grumbled under his breath and the other suit just shrugged as they were escorted away. Falkenberg was rounding up his own staff when he said to Takayasu, “I would prefer to leave a pair of guards. If they kept a respectful distance ...?”

  Takayasu nodded. “So long as they remain out of earshot, that would be fine.”

  As with the Cooper situation, Falkenberg had appeared relieved to turn this out-of-the-ordinary business over to someone else. He indicated the two guards who would remain downstairs, then nodded his farewell to all of them. The two selected guards followed after the rest for about twenty paces before halting in more or less parade rest.

  The prisoner had been sitting on the concrete floor — solitary confinement offered no furniture — and had ignored the conversation up to that point. With those freaky, oblong eyes of his, the only way Steve could tell he was awake was his idle scratching at the orange paint along one of his arms, which revealed a mottled-brown fabric underneath — it looked like his invisibility cloak was off. But once the crowd dispersed enough that individuals stood out better, his gaze had shifted toward Callin ... and Steve thought those eyes might have widened, just a bit — they’d also blinked several times, after which almost all of the orange specks were gone, revealing the dead-black eyes of a shark.

  Gosh, that’s not chilling at all ...

  Now that the prisoner had traded insults with Shining Star, Takayasu stepped forward. “Since you saw fit to ignore Lieutenant Commander Falkenberg and Mister La Palma, I’ll start over: I am Lieutenant Michael Takayasu, representing the Paranormal Control Agency of the United States of America ... um, of Earth. You have been apprehended on charges of unlawfully releasing suspected- and known-criminals after their legal jailing or incarceration.”

  The prisoner ignored him, continuing to stare at Callin.

  Takayasu pressed on. “Do you have anything to offer in your defense? Shall I explain our criminal justice procedures
?”

  “I have not to slight interest in your ‘criminal justice procedures,’ native man. I do not to recognize your authority on me.”

  Steve was struck by how human the Egnolan sounded; to look at him, he expected his voice to sound slithery or otherwise creepy, but it didn’t. Like Callin and his people, he had an odd accent (albeit an accent like nothing Steve had ever heard; certainly nothing like Russian) and a fairly monotone pitch, but otherwise, his voice was ... normal. The Taalu sounded human, sure, but they at least looked mostly human. This fellow looked more like ... like ...

  As if reading his mind, Shockwave observed, “I think he looks kinda like a frog. Don’t ya think?” Takayasu didn’t shush him for this. Shockwave cocked his head to one side as if considering. “Yeah. A bulgy, harmless little frog.”

  Callin agreed, “He reminds me of a broc — a Taalu pet. Brocs are small and benign, and very inconsequential.”

  The Egnolan snorted like a bull, his wide, flat nostrils flapping audibly. “Such kind of primitive people you have chosen to harbor on, Grand Lord to the Taalu. They recent learned about higher life, and they worry about what animal I resemble? Pitiable.”

  Callin smiled, barely. “So you know who I am.”

  The Egnolan smacked his knuckles together, a very casual movement. Was that a shrug? “Either you are the Burning Star or the bruited Shining Star. You come along young, but judge by cape, I gauge you are Grand Lord Carn Lan’s boy. Which meant your father dead.” His lips peeled back, showing a row of dark, needle-like teeth. “So sad for you.”

  Callin’s smile, such as it was, disappeared. Otherwise, he did not react. “Why are you here, Egnolan?”

  The Egnolan shifted his lifeless eyes to Steve. “You wearing cape like Taalu flaunty traditions. Are you Grand Lord of ‘United States of America um-of Earth’?”

  Steve was caught off-guard, but before he could respond, Callin repeated, louder, “Why are you here, Egnolan?”

  Returning his gaze to Callin, the prisoner straightened his posture. “Bounty.”

  Callin released a tight laugh; it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “You must have lost touch while searching for us. I assume you’re referring to the Cargaun’s bounty on my people?”

  The bounty hunter rapped his knuckles together again.

  “Then your information is out of date. The Cargaun is lost. I don’t know who is running the Veraun Supremacy now, but I doubt they will cater to the Cargaun’s fixation with us. A fleet of ships is no small reward—”

  The bounty hunter’s nostrils flapped again. “Your information is outdated, Grand Lord. To reward is no more for the fleet of ships. To reward is now for any minor planet in the Supremacy.”

  That hit Callin. He stiffened, shifting his weight just enough to give Steve the impression that he had almost taken a step back. His reaction was obvious enough to make the bounty hunter flash those needle-teeth again.

  Shockwave whispered to Takayasu, “Did he just say the bounty is a planet?”

  Takayasu shushed him.

  Callin had recovered. “Whoever rules now will not give away an entire world to satisfy the Cargaun’s obsession. The Cargaun is lost. The Veraun Supremacy—”

  “This is second time you tell that Cargaun is ‘lost’ — lost, not dead. I find it interesting distinct.”

  Callin swaggered a little. “The Cargaun tracked us down in interstellar space. The Verauns attacked our fleet, we won. The Cargaun engaged me in battle, I won. We stranded him, wounded and without transport, between stars.”

  “You should had to kill him.”

  Callin folded his arms. “I would consider him sufficiently lost. In my opinion, a fitting justice.”

  “In my ears, false pretenses.” Before Callin could reply to that, the bounty hunter switched gears. “How did he found you inter-star space?”

  Callin attempted to dismiss this. “We don’t know, but it doesn’t really mat—” Callin cut himself off with a jolt. The bounty hunter’s nostrils flapped, once, and Callin took a threatening step forward. “You.”

  The nostrils flapped again, once. “Me.”

  Callin shook his head, Taalu-style. “You’re telling me you’ve been following us since—”

  The bounty hunter rapped his knuckles. “Long enough. Long enough not to give up ease.”

  “Then you know the Cargaun is lost! How can you expect to—?”

  “It does not matter to what I know, only what knows Supremacy. Supremacy ... and others.”

  Callin took another step forward, again full of menace, enough so that Takayasu shifted nervously. Steve could guess what he was thinking: If Callin killed this guy, a lot of the leeway they’d been using with vigor would come under scrutiny; the President had formalized no official standing for the Taalu as yet.

  When Callin finally spoke again, his voice came out as the growl Steve had half-expected from the bounty hunter. “To what ‘others’ are you referring?”

  “Many, many hunters are looking for Taalu. But I turned to Noctoponm.”

  Callin unfolded his arms and took another step — but this time, it was a step backward, and he didn’t try to hide it.

  The bounty hunter showed his needle-teeth. “I see that you’ve heard about to them.”

  “What’s the ‘Noctoponm’?” Takayasu asked, trying to recreate the word through the bounty hunter’s nameless accent.

  Callin didn’t answer him right away. He kept his attention on the bounty hunter. “The Noctoponm wouldn’t waste years searching for us. They’re too ... too busy. And too vicious! They wouldn’t have the patience for—”

  Again with those dark needle-teeth. “They did find a host of other diversions in this space to keep entertain. And they did not have to many years of looking for you. I believe that you are finding my beacon? That is how you know finding me, with this one’s,” he twitched a finger toward Takayasu, “viscous paint blazon? No, the Noctoponm’s patience would not be considered as a matter, would it?”

  Callin clenched his fists until the fabric of his gloves creaked.

  “Grand Lord,” Takayasu insisted, “what are the ‘Noctoponm’?”

  After a moment, Callin finally answered, “ ‘Noctoponm’ has no direct translation in English — or in Taalu, for that matter. The closest equivalent might be ‘Outlanders,’ or maybe ‘Outcasts’ or ‘Outsiders.’ ”

  Steve asked in a low voice, “What are they, Callin?”

  “If you do not want to betoken what fire you have pulled down to their heads,” the bounty hunter said to Callin, clearly enjoying himself, “I would to be happy to do for you.”

  With deliberate dismissal, Callin turned his back on the bounty hunter. “The Noctoponm are a triad of converts, each coming from a different, little-known world. Their reputation is so formidable that, even in our isolation, we learned of them. They are sometimes mercenaries, sometimes bounty hunters, sometimes political enforcers, and always very dangerous — rumors claimed that the Cargaun himself was wary of them, and his ego knew no limits. The Noctoponm appear, make a large impact on one government, or planet, or confederation of worlds, and then disappear again for months or years at a time. They supposedly keep to themselves until their last payoffs are gone, then return to the galactic scene when they need ... I believe your idiom ‘a big score’ sums it up.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the cell. “If this broc is telling the truth, my people are their next ‘big score’.”

  Trying to stay ahead of the cold feeling creeping up his spine, Steve asked, “You said they’re converts?”

  “Yes.”

  Shockwave cut in. “Well, what makes them so dangerous? You said there’s just three of ‘em, right? Hell, us standin’ right here could handle almost any three rogues. What makes these Nock-too-poem so damn special?”

  “The Noctoponm — all three of them — are those rare converts whose abilities do not conform to purposive types.”

  Shockwave didn’t quite follow that. “So they ...?”r />
  Takayasu answered, “He’s saying that all three of them have a random mix of powers, powers that don’t follow recognizable patterns, like Lincoln’s invulnerability fitting with his enhanced strength.”

  Steve got it all too well. “They’re like McLane’s puppet, Khalkha, when we all came together that first time. Strength and speed and telekinesis, maybe a few others that didn’t factor in when we fought him.”

  Shockwave fell quiet on that note. He didn’t need reminding that Khalkha had stood his own against himself, Takayasu, and Powerhouse; if Vortex hadn’t been there that day, all three of them might’ve died.

  Takayasu asked, terse now, “What can they do? What abilities do they have?”

  Callin grimaced. “Rumors vary greatly. Very few beings survive direct conflict with them. We know that they all have enhanced strength and invulnerability to some degree, and they can adapt to any atmospheric environment, either by conversion or technology. Beyond that ... one is said to control gravity, another can supposedly regenerate lost limbs ... it’s all conflicting and unverified, and because they are each from different races of unfamiliar worlds, we don’t know what abilities came from their conversions and what might simply be a natural part of their evolution.”

  Steve asked, “Would Larr or Naltin know anything more?”

  Callin shook his head. “In this instance, we’re all privy to the same, unreliable information. We ...” He made a vague, frustrated gesture that ended with his folding his arms again. “We just don’t know enough about them.”

  Behind Callin, the bounty hunter’s nostrils flapped several times. Shockwave glanced that way, probably to tell the alien to shut up in colorful terms—

  Callin spun on his heel. Before the others could react, he was standing immediately before the glass barrier, one hand pressed against it, the other drawn back and glowing with his silvery light.