“Fangs?” Nuke repeatedly fearfully. “Aliens don’t have fangs? Do they?”
“And its claws, man, they’re like bayonets.”
Nuke went white. “Bayonets?”
“Oh shit! It’s coming this way! It’s coming right for you, Lieutenant!”
Nuke stared into the trees ahead, gripping his rifle, anticipating an alien horror charging at him out of the darkness. “Where? I can’t see it? Where is it?”
Tucker peeled off his night vision glasses, bursting into silent laughter.
“Screw you, man,” Nuke snapped, as his fear turned to embarrassment.
Steamer shook his head, grinning. “Tucker, you’re a sorry son of a bitch.”
“I know, that’s why you love me!”
A terrified wail sounded, then the thud of a heavy carcass hitting the ground carried through the trees, followed by silence. Beckman saw the seeker stand, holding a red mass dripping with blood in one hand. It immediately sealed the lump of flesh inside a nano membrane, then flicked every trace of blood from its metal skin.
Beckman glanced at Laura, who had a look of revulsion on her face. “What is it?”
“A buffalo heart.”
The seeker dashed to the craft with blurring speed. A circular piece of the hull vanished with perfect timing, allowing the seeker to streak inside without pausing, then immediately sealed shut behind it.
“Were you here when it landed?” Beckman whispered.
“I was close,” she said, pointing to the left.
“Major,” Vamp’s voice sounded urgently in his earpiece. “There’s another contact moving toward you.”
No sooner had her words sounded in his earpiece, than he heard dry leaves crunch behind him. He spun around, bringing his M16 around. Standing at his feet was another seeker. Even though it had three hundred and sixty degree vision, Beckman felt like it was staring straight at him. He raised his assault rifle to cover its torso in case it attacked, but it was too fast. One of its thin snaking arms flashed out, caught the rifle’s barrel and ripped it from his hands before he could get his finger to the trigger. The seeker lifted the weapon, turning it for the sensor disk to examine. After several seconds it extended a thin metallic finger to the trigger and pressed it experimentally. The M16 released a three shot burst, although there was no sign of recoil, so strong was the seekers grip on the weapon’s barrel. With growing understanding, it repositioned the weapon so there was line of sight from the sensor disk, along the barrel. Holding the weapon with its lower pair of arms, it fired a burst at a tree a dozen meters away. The seeker turned slightly, ramping up its optical sensors across the spectrum, and targeted a tree two hundred meters away. It fired another three shot burst with perfect accuracy, severing a branch Beckman could barely see.
Damn! Beckman thought astonished, Great shot!
The seeker then selected a branch more than a kilometer away and fired. Beckman didn’t see the bullets miss their target, but the seeker did, giving it an understanding of the weapon’s limited accuracy. The machine turned toward Beckman, aiming the M16 at his head, curious to assess the damage the weapon could inflict upon the primitive biped who’d carried it, then the seeker shuddered as a depleted uranium slug crashed through its lower torso. Its arm operating the M16’s trigger twitched, letting go, while the other arm kept hold of the barrel. There was a faint click from the shadows as Cougar rammed home another round, then a second bullet shattered the glassy black sensor disk. The seeker staggered drunkenly, but refused to fall, while its two lower arms moved with uncoordinated jerkiness. The seeker’s hand holding the M16 spasmed, buckling the rifle’s barrel. It took several steps toward the vehicle, then a third shot struck the upper arm segment, triggering an electric flash as a vital component shattered. The seeker went rigid, then toppled forward still gripping the twisted rifle barrel.
The brilliant light beneath the alien craft winked out, immersing the forest in darkness, then the air surrounding the vehicle glowed a dull red as its propulsion field activated. The woodland became bathed in red, then orange light as the craft powered up.
“Movement!” Vamp yelled. “Multiple contacts. Left and right, all around us!”
From deep in the forest, Beckman heard the underbrush being swept aside as metal objects raced toward the vehicle from all directions. Dark shapes sped past the troops hiding among the trees so fast they barely got a look at them. In the growing light generated by the craft’s power up, Beckman saw shiny skinned seekers race out of the dark toward the vehicle, some carrying nano membrane sacks full of samples.
Laura screamed beside him. He swung his recovered weapon in her direction as a seeker shot past, scooped up its crippled sibling with all four hands and raced towards the safety of the vehicle. Openings appeared in the alien craft’s hull, wherever a seeker arrived, as if any surface could become an entry point. In a matter of seconds, all of the machines had retreated inside the vehicle, and the entry points had seamlessly sealed shut. A moment later, the octagonal craft vanished before Beckman’s eyes.
For a moment he was too astonished to think clearly, then he remembered Dr McInness’ explanation of hyper acceleration. He looked straight up, in time to glimpse a brilliant blue white point of light streaking high into the sky toward the west.
He was right!
The blue white light faded to red as the vehicle ceased accelerating and began to glide back to Earth, toward the west. Though Beckman didn’t understand it, the high arc and glide trajectory was the most energy efficient way to reach its destination.
“Clear,” Beckman called into his radio as he climbed to his feet, then helped Laura up. “I take it you’re from the research station?”
She dusted herself off. “Laura McKay. Who you are?”
“Robert Beckman, US Army.”
“A little late, aren’t you?”
“Late?” Beckman said puzzled.
“That thing crashed two days ago, and now it’s destroyed my home and kidnapped my husband. I’d call that late.” Before Beckman could reply, she strode off into the clearing made by the vehicle.
Beckman watched her, bemused, as Dr McInness stormed toward him with flushed cheeks and eyes popping.
“Are you out of your mind!” the scientist exploded.
Beckman gave him a distracted look. “What?”
“Your people fired on them! Now they think we’re hostile!”
“It was going to shoot me in the head!” Beckman glanced at Cougar and gave him an appreciative nod. “I’d call that sufficient justification.”
“You shouldn’t have gone in there with any weapons!” Dr McInness declared. “This should never have been a military operation! I warned them! Trigger happy Rambos!”
Beckman ignored the scientist, and followed Laura to the landing site. The vegetation under foot had been crushed in the same circular pattern as the previous landing site, and another borehole had been drilled in the middle of the clearing. Laura hurried across to where a water buffalo lay dead beside a stringybark tree. She examined it with a mix of empathy and scientific curiosity. Beckman stopped a short distance from the dead animal, noting that neat circular holes had been cut through its chest and skull where its heart and brain had been removed.
“This is weird,” she murmured. “There’s no blood around either wound. The incision was sealed as soon as it was made.”
Markus emerged from the trees, while further out, the shadowy forms of the rest of the team could be seen moving toward the landing sight.
“How many of you are there?” Laura asked
“Twelve,” Beckman replied, “Including two civilians.”
“Is that all?” Laura asked incredulously.
“We’re a reconnaissance unit.”
She stood up, then nodded suspiciously at the small silver special at his hip. “What’s that?”
“An experimental weapon. Top secret.”
“Of course it is.”
Markus cut in, eager to
deflect her attention away from the recovered weapon. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on here?”
Laura hesitated, breathing deeply as she fought to control her emotions. “I don’t know. They took my husband … destroyed everything. I don’t know what they want.”
While she told her story, Dr McInness examined the borehole. He studied the compression patterns in the grass then wandered over to observe the mutilated water buffalo.
“Major, your knife please,” Dr McInness said when Laura had finished. Beckman passed his knife to the scientist, who used it to probe the hole in the buffalo’s chest. After a moment, he cut through the fused flesh and blood began seeping out. “The technology sealing the borehole wall and this incision are the same.” He wiped the knife clean on the animal’s hide and returned it to Beckman. “You know what that means?”
“They’re the galaxy’s greatest hole diggers?” Beckman suggested.
“Both the borehole and the animal’s flesh have been fused, without heat.”
“So?” Beckman asked, unimpressed.
Dr McInness stared intently into space, deep in thought. “It means they can transfer energy at a quantum level without thermal effects.”
Beckman arched his eyebrows impatiently. “So?”
“It’s a whole new approach to quantum mechanics, something we haven’t even thought of in theory. And they use to dig holes in the ground!”
Laura looked curiously at Beckman. “Is he always like this?”
“Pretty much.”
“Why is that important, Doctor?” Markus asked.
“To use such advanced science in such a mundane way means they’ve had it a long time. What is completely unknown to us is trivial to them.”
“We know something else too, Doc,” Cougar said. They all turned toward the sniper, curiously. “We know we can kill them.”
“Yo Coug! You da man!” Timer yelled appreciatively, high fiving him.
“You shot an unarmed machine in the back!” Laura said.
“It was armed,” Nuke said, “It had an M16 with a forty millimeter grenade launcher!”
“She’s right,” Beckman said soberly. “They weren’t looking for a fight.”
“Weren’t they?” Markus said skeptically. “It took your weapon before you could get a shot away.”
Beckman suppressed his irritation at the comment, while the demeanor of the troops sobered. They knew in a normal situation, the only way Beckman would surrender his weapon was if he were dead.
“So you’re going to the Goyder?” Laura asked.
Beckman nodded. “That’s the plan.”
“Will you rescue my husband?”
Beckman hesitated. “I can’t promise that.”
Her eyes clouded. “Do you think he’s dead?”
Better for him if he were. Beckman dreaded the thought of being treated like a specimen. “I don’t know.”
“Where are you headed?” Markus asked.
“There’s a landing strip the other side of Bath Range. I was hoping someone would land there, before I ran out of food and water.”
“There’s no aircraft flying for a thousand of kilometers in any direction,” Beckman said.
Laura looked confused. “Why?”
“Because,” Markus answered, “They shoot down every damn thing we send up.”
Dr McInness rounded on Markus abruptly. “We don’t know that. Their technology may be causing electrical failures in our aircraft. There’s bound to be a logical explanation for it.”
“There is,” Virus said, “Their air defenses kick ass!”
“So, I have no hope of rescue?” Laura asked.
“None,” Beckman replied.
Laura looked thoughtful, “Then I guess I’ll have to go with you.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Would you rather I die out here by myself?” She glanced at the members of his group, realizing none were local people. “I take it none of you know this country?”
“None of us knew Arnhem Land even existed forty-eight hours ago,” Beckman said.
“I’ve been to the Goyder three times in the last two years. I know the local people, and there’s no one who knows this land like the aborigines. They’ve lived here for sixty thousand years and they don’t trust outsiders, which means you’ll never see them.” She folded her arms. “Unless I’m with you.”
Hooper gave Beckman a meaningful look. “Native guides would give us an advantage.”
God help me, another civilian! Beckman thought, knowing Hooper was right. In any event, he’d already decided he couldn’t leave her out here alone, unarmed and short on supplies.
“She can’t stealth,” Markus said. “And she’s not cleared for our technology.”
“She’s already seen the specials.” Beckman turned to Laura. “If you’re coming with us, you’ll have to keep up. We can’t slow down for you.”
Laura smiled. “I’ve hiked from one end of Arnhem Land to the other, in monsoons and in hundred degree heat. You’ll be lucky to keep up with me.”
Muted laughter rippled around the clearing.
Beckman suppressed a smile at her bravado. “All right. Stick with Xeno. Do what she says. OK?”
“That’s me,” Xeno said, giving Laura a welcoming smile.
Beckman turned to Hooper. “Let’s move. I want to put distance between us and this clearing before we camp for the night.”
CHAPTER 6
Bandaka reached camp as the moon climbed high into the night sky. He squatted by the fire beside Liyakindirr, balancing his spear on the ground before him. Liyakindirr glanced at his friend, but continued playing his yirdaki. Known in the south as a didgeridoo, the instrument was only ever played by men and was as important to Yolngu culture as their ancient songs and ritual dances. The Yolngu had inhabited northeast Arnhem Land since the time of the Wangarr, the powerful ancestral beings who had divided the lands among the various clans and delivered to each their tribal laws and dialects. It was an ageless union little understood by the balanda, the non aboriginal peoples who flooded into the lands of the south.
Bandaka’s wife, Djapilawuy, poked a stick into the burning embers, testing the progress of the kangaroo roasting beneath the fire, while their young daughter, Mapuruma, sat beside her awaiting the feast with growing anticipation.
After a while, Liyakindirr sensed the brooding seriousness in his friend. He ceased playing, letting the haunting sounds of night replace the thrum of the yirdaki. “Is it the falling star that troubles you?”
“It fell close,” Bandaka replied with dread. In their culture, to sight a falling star meant death approached. The closer the star, the nearer would be the person who died.
“We should take the women away from here,” Liyakindirr said. “Tell the white men.”
Bandaka looked thoughtful. “They know.”
Liyakindirr looked surprised. “How?”
“One of their fighter planes crashed.” Bandaka pointed his spear at Mount Fleming. “Over there.”
“The smoke we saw?”
Bandaka nodded.
Liyakindirr’s had seen fighters screaming across the skies before. He knew they came from Tindal Air Base far to the west. “It crashed after the falling star?”
“Yes.”
“Was the pilot alive?”
Bandaka shook his head solemnly.
“Could that be the death that comes?” Liyakindirr asked hopefully.
“We didn’t know him,” Bandaka said with certainty. “He’s not close enough to us.”
Liyakindirr sighed, knowing his friend was correct.
“Where is the old man?” Bandaka asked.
Liyakindirr motioned beyond the fire, to the shadows beneath a large rock at the edge of camp. “He dreams.”
Bandaka stood, smiled at his wife, then walked past the fire towards where the old man sat. Liyakindirr hesitated, then set his yirdaki down and followed. They found Mulmulpa squatting beyond the rock, staring i
nto the darkness. He was wrinkled by time with skin cracked like old leather. He wore a hide loin cloth but had long ago ceased to carry the traditional weapons. Quietly, they squatted before him waiting to be acknowledged, listening to the crackle of the stringybark in the fire.
“The strangeness in the land disturbs the spirits of our ancestors “ Mulmulpa said from his dreaming state, his words barely above a whisper.
“What is this strangeness?” Bandaka asked in a hushed tone.
“The great spirits do not know. It should not be.”
Bandaka felt his stomach knot. He was a simple hunter. He didn’t understand the ways of the spirits, but he knew Mulmulpa did. He found the old man’s confusion disturbing. How could the spirits not know? “Where are the white men, Mulmulpa? Why haven’t they come?”
“Soldiers come, from the morning sun.”
“Should we find them?”
Mulmulpa shook his head slowly. “They cannot protect us, my son. They do not understand the danger.” Mulmulpa’s face showed sadness. “They cannot escape their fate.”
“What should we do?” Liyakindirr asked with a twinge of fear.
“Hide.” Mulmulpa’s eyes scanned the shadows of the forest. Slowly his face turned to the trees beyond the campfire. “An evil spirit comes.”
Bandaka followed the old man’s gaze, then he turned urgently back to Mulmulpa. “It’s coming here? Now?”
Mulmulpa’s turned to the young hunter. “We must go, Bandaka. It is near.”
Bandaka jumped up and ran back toward the fire, calling in a low, urgent voice, “Go marrtjina! Go marrtjina!” Come here! Come here!
Mapuruma stood and stared at her father, confused.
Bandaka scooped up his daughter with one hand, then point to the south with his spear. “That way! Run and hide!”
The urgency in his voice sent Djapilawuy darting for the trees. Liyakindirr grabbed his weapons and the yirdaki, then jogged after her, while Mulmulpa vanished into the night. None gave a second thought to abandoning their camp, which they could easily replace.
Bandaka sprinted silently through the forest until he was far beyond the glow of the campfire, then he set Mapuruma down and motioned for her to follow her mother. Djapilawuy glanced back, alarmed that he’d stopped, but he nodded reassuringly to her. His wife took Mapuruma’s hand, then mother and daughter melted into the night with a skill learned across tens of thousands of years. When Bandaka saw that his companions had got safely away, he hid, determined to understand what the spirits could not.
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