Dr McInness gave Markus an indignant look. “We may not get another chance like this for a thousand years. This is important … for the whole human race.”
Steamer watched McInness thoughtfully, then reluctantly spoke up. “Major, I don’t know nothing about science, and shit like that, but I’ll carry something for him.”
Dr McInness looked up at the massive soldier with surprise. Steamer was already weighed down with predator missiles. “Thank you.”
Tucker turned his head away and whispered to his large friend, “Are you out of your freaking mind?”
“You heard him, man,” Steamer replied in an equally low voice, “It’s once in a thousand years.”
Tucker’s eyes narrowed, then he whispered. “Bullshit, you’re just trying to win the bet.”
Steamer looked shocked, “That hurts, man, that really hurts.”
Virus and Timer exchanged looks, then Timer sighed and raised his hand. “I’ll take something.”
“Me too,” Virus added.
Nuke winced, testing the weight of his pack. “Not me, man, I’ve got enough shit to carry.”
Markus looked alarmed. “Major, your people are already carrying heavy loads. The extra weight will slow us down.”
Beckman hid the fact that Markus’ constant uninvited advice was starting to irritate him. “One item each. No more. If anyone falls behind, you dump it. Clear?”
There were nods from the soldiers, while Markus shook his head in disgust.
Dr McInness slipped out of his pack, then gratefully began handing out his equipment. Most of the instruments ran on lithium batteries, but there was also a small photovoltaic collector to provide a trickle of solar power. Hooper shrugged and reached for Dr McInness’ Geiger counter.
“I’d like to keep that with me,” the scientist said putting the radiation detector back in his pack. He planned to make regular radiation readings as they approached the crash site, and so it was the one instrument he would be using constantly over the next few days. “Here, I won’t be needing this for a while,” he said, handing the heavier optical emission spectrometer to the sergeant.
Hooper shrugged and took the slightly larger unit. To him, the metal boxes all looked similar. Seeing Hooper stow the instrument in his pack, Tucker relented and relieved the scientist of another white metal box whose purpose eluded him.
Beckman took the last item, finding Dr McInness’ pack had deflated to three quarters its previous size. “Are we done?”
Dr McInness smiled, his face having cooled from purple to bright red. “Yes, thank you, Major.” The scientist looked at the soldiers who were resealing their packs, paying him little attention. “Thank you. All of you.”
Beckman clicked his radio, “OK Cougar, we’re moving.”
* * * *
I’m dead without water, Laura thought from her refuge high among the tree tops.
She well knew the risks of dying a deranged dehydrated death under the brutal southern sun. That knowledge and her growing thirst drove her to action. She climbed down the rope ladder, pausing while still well above the ground to search for reptilian outlines in the shadows below. It had been hours since she’d seen movement on the ground, but that meant nothing. Crocodiles were masters of camouflage with limitless patience. She hoped the crocs had gone off towards the stream, but in the midday heat they might be resting in the shade, awaiting nightfall.
Spying no movement, Laura continued on down to the base of the tree, where she hid among the ferns carpeting the aviary floor. She meticulously examined every shape and shadow beyond the net, assuming nothing. Minutes passed without her detecting the blink of a predatory eye or the rhythmic swelling of reptilian breathing. Overhead, the aviary birds called calmly to their cousins beyond the net. The terror of the previous night had ebbed, although the absence of seed in the feed trays had left them confused and hungry. Trusting the birds’ instincts more than her own eyes, she crept toward the net’s inner flap, where she paused long enough to look for any sign of the deadly predators lurking in the research station’s smoking ruins. Finding none, she unzipped the aviary’s inner and outer flaps, leaving both open in the hope the birds would find their way out. She had a twinge of regret at the years of work that would be lost, but she couldn’t leave the birds to starve.
Laura sprinted to the remains of the house, then clambered onto the shattered beams pockmarked with empty nail holes. Dozens of wood splinters stood like jagged spears, making the climb treacherous. When she thought she was above the resting place of the kitchen, she pushed shattered planks aside and climbed down between collapsed walls, startling two kangaroo rats scavenging through the remains of the pantry. After the tiny creatures had hopped away into the shadows, she took a moment to examine what stores remained. The tinned food was gone, sucked from the house the night before, while packets of sugar, salt and flour had burst open and were now being carried off by an army of black ants. Fortunately, plastic packets containing biscuits and dried fruit remained sealed. Several four liter plastic water containers had been shattered by falling timbers, but one had survived, shielded beneath a thick support beam.
Thank God! she thought, as she tore open the lid and drank, careful not to spill a drop. When her thirst was quenched, she resealed the precious water bottle and dragged it out of the wreckage, placing it just beyond the ruined veranda. She knew the water purification tablets were gone. They’d been stored in the four-wheel-drive for emergencies, and now that it had vanished, she had no way to make the river water safe. If she couldn’t find help in a few days, she’d be forced to drink the river water, and she knew what that meant.
Laura returned to the collapsed pantry and gathered up what packet foods she could find. She deposited them by the water, then searched for medicine to offset the diarrhea and vomiting untreated river water would cause. After scouring the shadows unsuccessfully for the medicine cabinet, she clambered over to where her bedroom now was. Squeezing down between fallen walls, she found her wardrobe had shattered while her chest of drawers, which had been constructed with joinery and glue rather than nails, remained intact. She quickly changed into khaki shorts and shirt, then retrieved her broad-brimmed hat, sun cream and a nylon backpack from the broken wardrobe. She was about to climb out when a piece of wood slid onto the ground on the far side of the house. She froze with one hand on the support beam above, afraid to turn her head, even though she was well hidden inside the remains of the house.
Maybe it’s just the house settling?
Laura waited in silence, slowly relaxing when no new sounds occurred. She tightened her grip on the support beam above her head, about to pull herself up for a peek, when the clatter of another timber being pushed aside broke the silence. She froze again, now certain she was not alone. There were no footsteps or breathing, but something was rummaging through the debris at the edge of the house. She knew crocs didn’t like moving on land during the heat of the day, but they would if they were hungry and food was close.
Can it smell me?
Laura released her grip on the beam above her head and eased herself into the shadows, away from the sunlight pouring down from above. She turned her face toward the noise, peering through myriad gaps in the wreckage, but saw nothing.
Where’d it go?
A wooden plank skidded barely two meters away. She suppressed a gasp, then looked over her shoulder, spotting a dark shape moving silently over the debris.
How did it get up there, without me hearing it?
Through the peepholes, she saw a metallic, almost shiny surface, not the leathery crocodile hide she’d expected, and it glided above the wreckage, rather than walked upon it. Laura swallowed, fighting her fear as she shrank further back into the shadows. She watched the ovoidal shape’s slender mechanical arms poke the debris with knife-like probes. When the surveyor floated over the opening above her, it stopped, revealing a glowing strip running along its underside. It hovered motionless and silent while one of its frontal ar
ms pushed pieces of wood and plaster aside. Several planks slid away, causing bright sunlight to shoot down into the area to her left, illuminating one of her hiking boots and catching a tiny kangaroo rat in the sunlight. Startled, the little marsupial hopped toward the shadows as one of the surveyor’s frontal arms speared down with blinding speed. There was a squeal, then the arm retracted with the tiny animal impaled on its blade probe.
Laura’s eyes widened in fright as she forced herself to remain motionless in the shadows, not even daring to move her foot. Her heart beat furiously as a small panel opened in the surveyor’s side and the arm deposited the tiny creature inside. After a moment, the surveyor moved on over the ruins. She turned slowly, watching it float across the lawn towards the lab. Now she could see the drone more clearly. The sensor disk on top glistened in the sunlight like black glass as it studied the remains of the research station. Halfway to the lab, it stopped to drive one of its knife-like probes deep into the ground, instantly obtaining a chemical analysis of the soil. It retracted the probe, then continued on to the laboratory, where it started sifting through the debris.
Gradually, Laura’s fear subsided as the surveyor moved away. She began observing it with the mind of a scientist, realizing it was a piece of technology, although unlike any machine she’d ever seen. By the way it probed its surroundings, gathered data and collected samples, she knew if it discovered her, it would treat her like another specimen.
Is that what happened to Dan?
The surveyor glided over the lab toward where the animal cages had been. A probe arm speared down into the wrecked laboratory, then retracted with a mass of color impaled on its knife probe. Laura winced when she saw the white bandage covering one of the bird’s legs, realizing it was the rosella she’d operated on the previous night. The surveyor deposited the bird in another specimen compartment, then glided toward the aviary’s nylon netting.
It’s going for my birds! Laura thought as the birds became agitated, chattering and flying between the trees.
The surveyor drifted outside the aviary while its optical sensor discovered the netting was a primitive synthetic construct. It sliced off a section of the net, then deposited it into a compartment for later analysis. The underbrush near the aviary came alive as seven meters of reptilian fury surged toward the machine. Massive jaws filled with large yellow teeth clamped down on the surveyor. Electrical flashes erupted from the machine as vital components were crushed. The surveyor’s arms nearest the croc were pinned, while the arms on the far side arched over the machine’s spine and speared into the big croc’s shoulders and head. The blade probes sliced through bone and muscle, opening up a vicious wound while the croc’s dying impulse was to shake its head, smashing the surveyor into the ground. The black ovoid exploded, blowing the crocodile’s jaws apart, then they both collapsed into a mangled pile of bloodied flesh and melted components.
Laura watched, horrified. Even though she feared the big croc, she’d also cared for and studied it for almost a year. To see it destroyed in such a way shocked her. Struggling to maintain her composure, she climbed out of the house, dumped the backpack beside the food and water, then approached the dead crocodile. Its headless body lay next to the shattered black hull of the surveyor. Inside the machine were three partially melted metal cubes. Sparks flickered from the central cube, which had exploded and was now peppered with tiny black holes. Running along the sides of the machine were small compartments filled with rocks, insects and tiny animals. The rosella lay in one compartment, encased in a solid, translucent gel like material that perfectly preserved it.
Nearby, shrapnel from the explosion had created a four meter high opening in the aviary net, and one by one, birds were flying through the hole to freedom. On the ground a short distance away was one of the knife-like probes, still attached to the lower joint of an arm. She picked it up, testing its weight. The edge was dull, making it useless for slicing, but the sharp point made it an effective stabbing weapon.
“Better than nothing,” she murmured, unaware that her new stabber was a solid state sensor capable of detecting many more elements than were currently listed on the periodic table.
Laura returned to her pile of supplies and placed them in the backpack. Fully loaded, it was heavy, but she’d carried big packs before on field trips. She took one last look around at the ruins of her life’s work, a place where she’d been happy, especially after Dan had joined her. The thought of never seeing him again tore at her heart, forcing her to choke back tears. She knew she had to focus on survival while she still had the strength to get out and find help for Dan. If she was to grieve, there would be time for that later.
Which way?
Gan Gan outstation was the closest aboriginal community, but she’d have to cross both the Koolatong and Maidjunga Rivers. Only a fool would try that, as they were both swarming with saltwater crocodiles. That left either the southeast track through the Laurie Creek Wetlands to the Marrkalawa Community, or the old track to the Ngilipitji Landing Ground. The Wetlands were full of crocs and deadly snakes, while the Landing Ground meant a tough hike over Bath Range to an air strip that might not see a plane for weeks. She decided she’d rather wait alone at the airstrip, than risk the dangers of the wetlands.
“Ngilipitji it is.”
Laura wiped sunscreen on her face, as Dan would have wanted, then set off for the northwest track.
* * * *
Markus fell in beside Xeno as they trekked through the forest. “Morning.”
She glanced at him, sensing his amiable manner was a mask. His brown calculating eyes made her feel like she was under a microscope, yet gave away nothing in return. He was a fraction shorter than her, in his mid thirties, and she guessed by his manner that he was used to getting his own way.
“I have a question for you,” he said, when she didn’t return his greeting.
“You’re not my type.”
He smiled. studying her. She was lean, almost skinny, and although she carried an M16 and a small silver weapon of inhuman design, she possessed a composed, serious intellect. “That wasn’t my question.”
“Then we have nothing to talk about, because everything I know is classified.”
“I’ve got the highest security clearance here. Higher even than you.”
“How wonderful for you.” She gave him a bored look. “What’s your question?
“What do you think they sound like?”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You were present when they dissected a Bug-Eye a few years ago. It’d been frozen a long time, but was still intact. And you’ve studied tapes of other autopsies.” He paused, then added. “You must have a theory.”
She hid her surprise. Even Beckman didn’t know she’d been part of the bioanalysis program. “If I had a theory, it would only apply to Zetas. They’re the only cadavers we’ve recovered.”
“Well . . . they’re the only cadavers you’ve seen.”
She gave him a curious look, but didn’t take the bait.
“Call it a trade,” he said. “You tell me your theory, and I’ll see what I can do about expanding your access.” Markus dug into his pocket and pulled out a freeze dried ration pack. He tore it open and bit into the protein rich substance.
“You should be saving those.”
“I’m carrying more food than I need.” He took another bite, and glanced patiently at her.
“High pitched,” she said.
“Is that it?”
“What did you expect, Pavarotti?”
“Are we talking dog whistles?” Markus asked.
“Not exactly, but they’d need machines to communicate with us. And our voice box can’t replicate their vocalizations.”
“So you’re a linguist, but you can’t speak Bug-Eye?”
She gave him a reproachful look. “Technically, I’m a xenologist, not a linguist. Sorry, but I don’t speak any of the Zeta languages.”
Markus looked puzz
led. He knew she had PhDs in mathematics and biology, an odd combination that made her a unique talent. “According to your file, you’re the language expert.”
“The file’s wrong.” Xeno replied. She was one of the few scientists in the world who’d studied language data from storage devices recovered from crashed UFOs, languages as distinct from each other as English, Chinese and Swahili. “Understanding their languages is more like cryptography than translation. You have to spot patterns and relationships, which is best done mathematically. Only then do you move into actual translation.”
“Except you’re toting a gun; a strange job for a mathematician.”
“Someone’s got to read the labels. That’s my job. Zeta Label Reader.”
“Why don’t you call them Grays?”
“I’m an American, not a white,” she said simply. “I’m identified by geography, not race. The little guys come from Zeta Reticuli, a binary star thirty-nine light years from Earth, so I refer to them by their astronomical origin.”
“Why not call them Reticulans?”
“It’s a mouthful.”
“It makes more sense than using the sixth letter of the Greek alphabet.”
“I know. Call me crazy, but Zeta has nice ring to it. And it’s better than referring to them by their pigmentation.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to be respectful, even though those bug-eyed midgets have been peeking through our bedroom windows for tens of thousands of years.”
“Composite eyes,” she corrected. “And they’re small humanoids, not midgets.”
“That’s political correctness, if ever I’ve heard it!” Markus exclaimed as he watched Dr McInness stumble over a half buried rock and fall on his face.
“I’m trained to overcome my prejudices,” Xeno said as Vamp dragged Dr McInness to his feet by his backpack straps, then gave the scientist a reassuring smile as he dusted himself off. Oh my God, Xeno thought incredulously, gauging Vamp’s look, she really does think he’s cute!
The Mothership Page 6
