Dead Eyes

by Nick Brown

  Chang and Banks were already on the move. Mackey pounded after them, forcing himself not to look up. Banks couldn’t resist the temptation.

  ‘Keep going!’

  The shadow moved. Half-expecting the discharge of some horrible weapon, Mackey pumped his legs and was soon sprinting faster than he had in years. Despite his load, Chang was already well ahead. The boulders were still a hundred metres away.

  The shadow shifted again. Mackey risked a quick look up. The ship was sliding past them, every motion uncannily smooth.

  The toe of his right boot struck a rock. He stumbled but regained his footing. By the time he caught up with the others, they had reached the boulders. Banks nipped between two of them and crouched down. Chang stopped and looked up.

  ‘Keep that gun down.’ Just to make sure he understood, Mackey pressed the barrel towards the ground. Chang frowned.

  The ship accelerated away at an incredible pace then descended. In moments it had disappeared behind one of the ridges to the north.

  ‘Mackey?’

  ‘DeMarco, you safe?’

  ‘Two clicks up in heavy stuff.’

  ‘Reading any other ships?’

  ‘No. But I didn’t read that one either. Where is it?’

  ‘Looks like its landing to the north.’

  ‘You heading back?’

  Mackey paused, and looked over the nearest boulder at the beacon. At a run it was only a minute away.

  ‘Who - who has a ship like that?’ asked Banks. ‘Military?’

  ‘Ko Ceti?’ suggested DeMarco.

  ‘Not out here,’ said Mackey. ‘And Grey ships don’t look like that.’

  ‘Greys?’ blurted Banks. ‘Oh no.’

  ‘Do you listen?’ snapped Mackey. ‘Their ships don’t look like that. And no one’s seen a trace of them for twenty years.’

  ‘Something else?’ said DeMarco. ‘Something new?’

  Mackey was still looking at the beacon. They had come quite a way and he had spent most of what was left in his last account on fuel.

  ‘We should go, right?’ said Banks.

  ‘No,’ said Chang firmly, his brow creasing.

  Banks said, ‘I mean who’s going to buy the claim if there’s some new species already here? Right?’

  Mackey answered him: ‘New species or not, for a crude claim we’ll get a buyer. They keep those rights for fifty years. Enough talk, let’s go. DeMarco get ready for a quick pick up. I want to be back in the black stuff within half an hour.’

  The beacon had come to rest on a slight tilt. Much of the surface was covered with yellow dust but the green illuminated band within the middle section was still active. Mackey had just cleaned it and the patch of metal above so that the identification code was clear. If untouched, the light would stay on for ten thousand hours, which was how long any prospective claimers had to plant their flag.

  Mackey had just pulled his out of his backpack. He unfolded the pole and stuck the sharpened end into the ground. The wind had died for a moment so he held out the flag: a great white shark on a blue background. The legend above the image read MACKEY & ASSOCIATES. Below was his registered company number.

  ‘Make sure you get both codes in,’ he told Banks, who was holding up his comcell to take the pic.

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘Forget me. Just the beacon and the flag. Chang?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He was standing behind Mackey, eyes trained on the ridges to the north.

  ‘Done,’ said Banks.

  In other circumstances, Mackey might have enjoyed the moment. ‘DeMarco, start your run.’

  ‘On my way.’

  Mackey folded the flagpole and stuffed it into his pack.

  ‘Skip,’ said Chang. ‘Look.’

  A dark, fast-moving shape flashed down one of the slopes. Though the ridge was at least a click away, the shape had arrived and stopped before Mackey even had a chance to turn, let alone run.

  The black surface of the vehicle gleamed like the larger craft. Shaped like an elongated diamond, it was about five metres long. In an instant it rotated so that the base of the diamond was hovering just above the ground.

  Banks’ throat emitted an unusual noise.

  The front of the diamond split in two, revealing a tall, slender figure. The alien stepped down onto the sand. It was at least three metres tall, body concealed by a cloak. The head was covered with a smooth, rounded helmet. It – like the cloak - was grey: a strange grey that seemed dull in colour yet somehow sparkled.

  The alien turned to the beacon then back to the humans.

  Mackey whispered, ‘Chang, don’t go anywhere near that gun.’

  He stared hard at the helmet’s visor but could see nothing beneath it. The alien raised its left arm. Mackey counted six digits on the hand. Then he noticed the white device attached to the forearm.

  Chang’s gun fell to the ground. The strap had been severed; the gun seemed to have been broken in half. Chang spat something in Chinese.

  ‘Easy.’

  The alien raised its right arm and aimed it at the beacon. A second device issued an unintelligible series of beeps and clicks.

  ‘Mackey?’

  DeMarco said his name again.

  ‘Stand by.’

  The alien looked at him.

  ‘You okay down there?’ asked DeMarco.

  ‘Stand by.’

  The alien turned back to the beacon and raised its left arm once more. With a metallic screech, the middle of the cylinder seemed to implode. The device tipped onto his side, clattering into the dust.

  Banks was hyperventilating.

  The alien pointed a digit at the earth, then at himself. He repeated the gesture.

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ said Mackey. We get it. It’s yours. Fine. No problem.’ He held his hands up. ‘So we’re going to leave.’ He took two steps back.

  The alien put its arms down and watched him.

  Banks had moved with Mackey. Chang was looking down at his ruined gun.

  ‘Leave it.’

  The alien turned its head slightly towards Chang. Its fingers were twitching.

  ‘You can get something better when you get your share.’

  The big man walked away. Banks followed.

  Mackey stayed facing the alien and kept his hands up. ‘All yours. We’re leaving.’

  After five steps he turned and quickened his pace. ‘DeMarco, stay in the cloud. Stay out of sight.’

  ‘No problem but I’ve got something else coming in from the south-east. Popped up about a minute ago.’

  Mackey looked over his shoulder. The alien was still watching them, cloak fluttering in the breeze.

  Chang and Banks had stopped. Banks was pointing south.

  Mackey covered his eyes and soon picked up the ship. It was coming in fast, getting big very quickly. Large engine block, smooth lines, rounded bow. It was a Mcdonnell/Tahai V-21, exactly the same model as the Great White. But with a tell-tale shiny new panel on the side of the hold - where it had caught a loading dock a couple of years back.

  ‘Jesus, that’s the Esperanza,’ said DeMarco.

  ‘Patch me through,’ said Mackey, watching as the ship slowed. Avoiding the closest fissure, it came to a halt, hovering directly above them.

  ‘Who are they?’ asked Banks.

  ‘Lopez,’ said Chang.

  Mackey covered his ear so he could hear above the growl of the ship’s engines. ‘DeMarco?’

  ‘Hang on.’

  The alien was staring up at the ship.

  The Esperenza began to descend. The landing strut hatches popped. Mackey could feel the heat from the exhaust ports.

  ‘Okay, you’re on,’ yelled DeMarco.

  ‘Lopez, it’s Mackey. Listen -’

  ‘You son of a bitch, how’d you beat me to it?’

  ‘Just listen!’

  Another hatch popped and a sensor probe dropped down.

  ‘Who’s that down there with-‘

  The alien raised
its left arm. Something exploded on the underside of the Esperanza. Big chunks of metal fell to the ground.

  ‘Lopez!’

  The ship lurched away from them.

  The alien still had its arm raised. A broad, ragged hole appeared in the engine block, obliterating the E and S of Esperanza. The stern began to rise, pushing the nose down.

  ‘Can’t we do something?’ wailed Banks.

  White smoke was now pouring from the hole. Manoeuvring jets flared but made no difference. The bow dipped. Something smashed through one of the cockpit windows.

  The alien lowered its arm and watched the ship fall out of the sky.

  The bow seemed to disappear into the ground, striking with a low rumble. As the windows blew out, the rest of it toppled backwards. Metal groaned and screeched. The engine block hit with a colossal thump. Detritus and dust flew up, obscuring the wreck.

  DeMarco kept talking. ‘Lopez? Lopez? Great White to Esperanza. Anybody?’

  ‘Don’t bother.’

  The explosion cut through the dust, a blinding tower of flame that shot skywards.

  Mackey turned away, only then realising that Banks had run and was still running.

  ‘Skip, I’m coming in.’

  ‘DeMarco, you do not move out of that cloud until I tell you. Got it?’

  ‘Skip.’ It was Chang. He pointed at the alien, which was facing them once again.

  Behind it, wreathes of flame covered most of the ship, producing several columns of thick, black smoke. Mackey saw that the entire front and mid-section had gone. He guessed the explosion had been caused by something in the hold. The engine block was still intact but the fire was moving backwards. Quickly.

  The alien was ten metres away.

  Chang had retreated so that they now stood side by side. ‘Skip. Have other gun.’

  ‘Don’t touch it.’

  Mackey could hear Banks’ panting breaths.

  DeMarco was struggling to sound calm. ‘Skip, that fire’s strong enough to get through the shielding. If the anti-matter drive goes up, it’ll level the entire area.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  The alien started walking towards them, its movements as uncannily fluent as the two vehicles.

  ‘Chang. Like this.’

  Mackey put both hands in the air.

  Chang’s right hand was already drifting towards his jacket.

  ‘You know it’ll kill us. That’s an order.’

  Chang spat and cursed, then lifted his hands.

  The alien stopped two metres away, towering over them.

  Mackey could see only himself and Chang in the visor. He dropped to his knees, hands still up. Chang did the same.

  The alien looked down at them.

  Mackey prostrated himself, face close to the warm ground, gloved hands flat against it.

  He whispered: ‘DeMarco, the ship?’

  ‘Blue smoke. That’s the shielding going up. Can’t be too much longer.’

  Mackey looked over at Chang, who also had his head close to the ground. Then he risked a glance up at the alien.

  It raised its left arm. Mackey heard a whirring noise coming from the weapon. There was a small cylinder at the front of it, some kind of barrel. It was aimed right at his face.

  ‘Oh sh-‘

  The light came before the sound. As everything in front of him turned white, Mackey threw his arms over his head and lay flat. Air screeched past and he was ripped off the ground, thrown high. He landed on his back, then rolled over as heat seared his face.

  Half winded, he felt the shockwave pass over, leaving clearer air behind. But even that was gritted with dust. Struggling for breath, he reached down for his mask but it came loose. The hose and the air tank had gone.

  He got to his knees. He felt sure his face had been burned but when he pulled off a glove and touched it, there was no pain or damage. He staggered to his feet and looked around but he could see no more than three yards. He heard some familiar curses.

  ‘Chang, where are you? Chang?’

  He heard a low boom, then another.

  His goggles were still hanging round his neck. He pulled them up and held them against his eyes. It didn’t make much difference.

  Then he heard shouting. Triumphant shouting and laughing. Chang.

  ‘Where are you?’ He blundered around for what seemed like several minutes. Though he could breathe normally again, his back and shoulders and legs ached. He felt like he’d been trampled by a horse.

  The next thing he heard was the familiar roar of the Great White’s suppressors. He backed away from the noise and watched as the force of the landing dispersed the dust cloud. The ship eased down gently about a hundred metres away, landing struts settling into the sand. The main ramp came down immediately.

  ‘Skip.’

  Mackey turned round and saw Chang standing over the alien, which was lying motionless at his feet. He tried to run but one of his ankles protested. He limped his way over.

  Half of Chang’s jacket was hanging off and he seemed to have lost most of his eyebrows. He was grinning. In his hand was a small sawn-off shotgun.

  ‘For emergency.’

  From the looks of the alien, Chang had emptied both barrels into its face. Beneath the fused metal of the helmet was wrinkled brown skin from which a foamy liquid was seeping. One yellow eye was hanging out, attached by a single vein.

  ‘You sure it’s dead?’

  Chang nodded, then reloaded.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘After bang it fell. I got up first.’

  DeMarco and Banks arrived together.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ said DeMarco. ‘You killed it, Chang?’

  He repeated his brief account of the incident.

  Mackey looked at Banks. ‘Decided to come back, huh?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘That’s not a Grey,’ said DeMarco. ‘Or a Ko Ceti.’

  ‘No it is not,’ said Mackey. ‘Banks, give her your comcell.’

  The rookie did so.

  ‘DeMarco, send that pic of the flag and the beacon to Central before something else goes wrong. And report everything we saw. They’ll send a cruiser.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘What about avoiding those fissures? You’ve landed right next to one.’

  She shrugged. ‘Sort of seemed like the least of our problems.’

  Mackey insisted that Chang fire two more shots into the alien’s head then led the others towards the wreck. They passed the black craft, which had been blown over but seemed intact.

  ‘Someone’s going to make money out of that thing,’ said Banks.

  ‘Not us,’ replied Mackey. ‘The Fleet will take it.’

  Banks looked back at the dead alien. ‘Wonder if he was alone.’

  Mackey hadn’t expected to find any survivors. The Esperanza had a crew of six but the only body they found was a long way from what remained of the ship.

  Everything below the waist was somewhere else. Every stitch of clothing had been blown away. The skin was blackened and torn. The face was looking up at the sky, startled and innocent.

  ‘Lopez,’ said Chang.

  Mackey nodded.

  ‘Dead eyes,’ murmured Banks.

  All things considered, Mackey reckoned he wouldn’t be using that expression any time soon.

  Four Numbers

  The bodies were piling up. The metal carcasses of the combat drones were piling up too. But they had the numbers.

  Looking out from her position behind a small boulder, Trooper Hayley Drasic gazed down the slope at the mouth of the cavern, waiting for another clear sight of a 'stick' – one of the stiff-jointed robots that would, in all likelihood, end her life. But it seemed they were holding back for the moment, no doubt gathering strength for another attack. Drasic reckoned there ought to be some way for a group of humans to outwit a group of machines. Apparently not.

  The sticks had been dropped close by and caught them in the open. At least a hundred strong, they
had slaughtered most of the soldiers and chased the remainder up into the cavern. If not for the narrow opening and the handy collation of boulders at the top of the slope, they would have broken through already. The soldiers had done what they could to arrange the rocks into a defensive barrier. It had held. So far.

  'Dres, come back. I'll watch for a bit.'

  Eyes sore from the dust and the barrel flare, she wasn't about to refuse. Rifle in one hand, she slid to the bottom of the pit they had dug out behind the boulders. His angular, dark face slick with sweat, Sergeant Toure gave her an encouraging smack on the shoulder as he crawled past to take over. Of the three sergeants with their patrol of forty when the sticks had struck, he was the only one still alive. The lieutenant had been the first killed.

  Drasic shook water bottles until she found one with some left and took two long swigs. She then lay back at the rear of the pit beside Trooper Petit, the Frenchman who had been caught on the shoulder by the burning orange blaster fire of their automated enemy. He was looking in a better state than the last time Drasic had seen him.