INCURSION - an ALIEN OMNIBUS

by Chris Lowry

“I untied the rope,” said Dawes.

  “I thought you didn't have enough air to do that.”

  “From me. I untied it from me.”

  “You're just freeballing in space?”

  “I think you meant free falling,” said Rachel in a worried voice. If he lost his grip, if something hit him, he was gone and they were all dead.

  “No, he meant freeballing,” said Dawes.

  “He's right. I'm going commando under my suit.”

  “Too much information cowboy,” said Carver.

  Dawes pulled himself along the wing and reached the hydraulic link. He used the wrench to unfasten it and push it back into place, and the duct tape to seal it just as Rachel instructed. He tightened the nut back into place and worked his way back to the rope.

  “I did it,” he said and made a grab for the carabiner to hook himself back in.

  “He did it!” Rachel shouted. Carver jumped with her in celebration. He bounced off her and landed on the control panel as his hand went back for balance. It hit a key and fired up the engine.

  Dawes reached for the rope and watched in horror as it jerked out of his grip, dragged away by the shuttle that rocketed away and left him drifting alone in space.

  “Don't panic,” he shrieked. “Don't panic. Now is not the time to lose control. It's alright. You're drifting, but you have air. Loose. That's not good. It's not good. But it's going to be okay.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Rachel lurched out of the seat and pressed the keyboard to kill the engines.

  “What have you done?”

  “It wasn't my fault!” Carver excused himself.

  “He was off tether outside the ship,” her brow creased in concentration.

  She checked the systems on the monitor for the schematics of the ship. Everything was a safe uniform green color.

  “We've got directional control,” she announced.

  “Great!” Carver exclaimed. “So let's turn around and go get him.”

  “We can't.”

  “Can't? What do you mean cant?”

  “I'm sure it means the same thing to you that it does for me. We cannot go back and get him.”

  “Why not? Just flick the button and turn this motherfucker around.”

  “We only have enough fuel to reach earth. Barely enough. We'd burn too much when we slowed down to pick him up.”

  “We're just gonna leave him?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Dawes stared after the black speck against the stars he thinks is the Shuttle. It stopped moving away from him, but so far, they hadn't turned around.

  “They wouldn't leave me,” he whispered. “They can't leave me. They'll turn around. Any second. Any minute now. Turn around.”

  The shuttle just floated there at the edge of his vision. Taunting him.

  “Shit,” said Dawes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  “Shit,” Carver sighed.

  “He made it so we can survive. We can go home,” Rachel explained. “Or we can all die out here.”

  “We can call for help.”

  She tapped the monitor.

  “You were flying silent so the array was off line. We must have hit something in the debris field because that's the first thing I thought of when we were on board. We don't have communications with earth.”

  “So you just want to leave him out there?”

  She wiped her eyes.

  “He's just going to go to sleep,” she said. “This ship was designed for two passengers and there might not be enough for three. Not enough food, not enough water, not enough fuel, not enough air. We might not make it as it is. One mistake up here and we're going to sleep just like him.”

  “Forever?”

  “Forever.”

  “You're cold girl. My boy came back to get me when that big alien alligator looking lizard mother fucker dragged me off and he took an ass whipping for me. Nothing like the one I'm going to give him when we get home,” Carver stared at her with eyes that flashed in anger. “But he is getting home. Sit your ass down in that chair right there and show me how it's done.”

  Rachel nodded.

  “It won't be easy.”

  “You think this shit has been easy up til now?”

  “We're probably going to all die.”

  “All day every day baby, that's what I'm talking about.”

  Rachel put her fingers on the keyboard.

  “You better buckle up for this.”

  The back end of the shuttle shifted around in a sluggish snail like pace and lined up on the one hundred and eighty degree return path.

  “We're going to establish radio contact as we get in range,” she told him. “If he's drifted off this path, we'll miss him.”

  “Got it,” said Carver.

  “If we miss him, we turn around-

  “And try again,” Carver finished for her.

  “And go home.”

  “And try again.”

  She nodded.

  The shuttle eased forward as she used short thruster boosts to return along the path. Dawes was hanging where they left him, just off the left wing now.

  “Glad you came back,” his voice crackled in the radio.

  “Never ever unhook yourself from the rope man.”

  “Good advice Carver.”

  “Get your ass back in here so we can go home.”

  “We're gonna miss,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Carver leaned his body to the side as if will alone could adjust their path and bring them closer.

  They watched Dawes drift past.

  He reached out a gloved hand and snapped the tip of the wing with his fingers. He clawed along the smooth surface. His glove caught on a ragged strip of metal and ripped another hole. The oxygen shoved out and pushed him in a somersault away from the shuttle.

  He spied the tether and grasped it with the other hand. No time to fix the leak, he hauled himself up the rope toward the open airlock. The alarm beeped in his helmet as he watched the display levels of his air disappear. Ten yards from the airlock, he ran dry.

  He took a deep breath and held it as he hauled himself in.

  Six yards.

  Spots started dancing in front of his eyes.

  Three yards.

  His burning lungs made his diaphragm spasm. He blew out the air in his lungs, trying to fool his body, convince it that he would take a breath just as soon as all the air was out of his lungs.

  He yanked himself through the airlock and hit the close button. His body rebelled, lungs crying for air and he opened his mouth to gasp as the airlock slid closed.

  There was no air inside the hatch. His body shook as he slowly choked and passed out.

  Carver stood outside of the airlock on the interior of the ship.

  “Why ain't he coming out?”

  “Get him,” said Rachel.

  Carver spun the wheel, pressed the panel to unlock the door. It slid up. Dawes spilled out onto the narrow floor of the cockpit.

  “You think he's dead?”

  Rachel pushed next to him and struggled to rip the helmet off Dawes head.

  “He's not breathing.”

  Dawes was cold, limp, turning blue.

  “Give him CPR,” Carver suggested. “I ain't touching those fish lips.”

  Rachel leaned over and blew air into his lungs.

  “Pump his chest,” she scooted over. “Start compressions.”

  Carver dropped and gave a three-count pump to Dawes heart. Rachel leaned over and blew his lungs full of air. Carver pumped again. Rachel was leaning down to blow when Dawes coughed and sucked in a great lungful. He moaned and opened his eyes.

  “I have got to get me one of them kisses girl.”

  Dawes coughed again.

  “What took you so long?”

  “That girl wanted to get a little busy without you being all up in my business man.”

  “That was quick then,” Dawes said as he struggled to keep up. “Best thi
rty seconds of her life.”

  “Fuck you man.”

  Carver stared at Dawes and grinned. Dawes grinned right back at him. They reached out and shook hands as they helped each other stand.

  “You two want to get a room?”

  “That would be a story to tell someone on the road, wouldn't it?” said Dawes. “First ménage a trois in outer space.”

  “Who said you were the first?” her eyes flashed as she floated over to the seats and strapped in.

  “I think I'm going to have to hear more about that,” said Carver as he settled in next to her.

  He left just enough room on the seat for Dawes to share.

  “After we get home,” she said.

  “What now?” asked Dawes.

  “We burned most of our fuel to come get you,” Rachel told him.

  “That was stupid.”

  “Yeah, and your redneck ass better come up with something quick.”

  “Did we call for a pick up?”

  “Radio's busted.”

  Dawes glanced down at the duct tape in the palm of his glove.

  “How much air do we have?”

  Rachel shot him a wicked grin.

  “You fucking genius.

  She typed on the keyboard and began a series of calculations on the monitor.

  “Air?” Carver said. “We need our air don't we?”

  “You ever coasted into a gas station on fumes?” Dawes asked him.

  “Why would you say that man? A black man gotta drive til there ain't no more gas?”

  The nose of the shuttle craft spun around as Rachel keyed in their destination.

  “I would tell you to strap in,” she said. “But this trip is going to take awhile. The landing is going to be rough. We'll be in a degrading orbit, but I don't know where we'll come in. But we are going to come in hot and hard.”

  Dawes shot up an eyebrow at Carver.

  “Nothing?”

  “I don't like the easy one's man.”

  “Your dating record says otherwise.”

  Carver grinned.

  “Laugh now boys, because when we get to earth, it's going to hurt.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  General Houston glared at the holographic projection in the control room. The dots on the map were all blank now, the Lucas gone along with the shuttle and the alien ship.

  He looked past Planet Nine where a new dot was cropping up every couple of seconds. They had just started a minute ago and already there were twenty four. He wasn't sure what it represented, except that earth had been discovered and bad stuff was coming their way.

  “Sir,” a Technician brought him a tablet.

  “What is it?”

  “Sensors picked up an inbound bogey about ten minutes ago.”

  Were they here already? They weren't prepared. None of them were prepared.

  “Where is it?”

  “It's a controlled descent Sir, but it's not coming in on a normal pattern.”

  “Meteor? Alien?”

  “Friendly General.”

  “Friendly?”

  “We got eyes on it at the space station before it went over the horizon. It's the shuttle.”

  Houston glared at the tablet as if force of will would make it give him more answers.

  “Get me the jet.”

  The Technician hurried away to comply.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  “I am going to kick your ass when we land,” Carver shouted. They shuttle had started its descent and so far things were good. If you were Dawes or Rachel strapped into the cushioned pilot and co-pilot's seat.

  Carver was duct taped to a wall, cushions and material behind his head. He was cocooned in a web of tape that kept him from moving, and kept him safe. Except for his mouth, which was still free.

  Dawes lost the debate on whether that should happen or not.

  “You drew the short straw.”

  “I am a motherfucking hero of earth,” Carver complained. “This is no way to treat a hero.”

  “There wasn't enough room on the couch.”

  “Fuck you and the couch man. This shit ain't funny.”

  “You're a tough guy, you can take it.”

  “How about you take my foot up your ass.”

  “Relax Carver,” said Rachel. “We'll be down in ten minutes if we make it.”

  “I can't feel my foot.”

  “We'll make it,” Dawes assured her.

  The view screen started glowing as they skipped along the edge of the atmosphere.

  “Oops,” Rachel leaned up and vented air.

  “Oops?” Carver screamed.

  “We almost bounced off the atmosphere. That would have been bad.”

  “Girl you don't scream oops on reentry.”

  “Isn't that what all of your dates say?” Dawes shouted over the roar of flames that licked the body of the shuttle.

  “This shit ain't funny.”

  Outside the shuttle the ceramic tiles turned from matte black to fiery red as the spacecraft dropped through the atmosphere.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Houston paced the aisle between rows of jump seats in a modified Harrier Jet. The Harrier was unique among aircraft with a vertical landing and takeoff that could shift into an airplane once it reached altitude. The engines on this plane were designed to do the same, except the huge rockets made the craft capable of carrying cargo, and in this instance humans.

  The General commissioned the design and execution as part of the Space Corp project, and he was particularly proud of this bird, his own personal vehicle when not being used for other purposes.

  An airman marched up the aisle and fell in behind the General.

  “Sir,” he saluted and passed him a sheet of paper. “Landing coordinates.”

  “Well,” Houston ignored the proffered paper. “Where is it?”

  “You're not going to like it Sir.”

  “Get me there ten minutes ago.”

  The airman double timed it up to the cabin to relay the instructions to the pilot. The General felt the thrum of engines as the pilot increased their airspeed. He didn't hear them but he could imagine the sonic booms they left in their wake.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Sonic booms echoed over the eastern seaboard, rocking houses and convincing some folks that the end of the world was nigh. Beachcombers searching for shells looked up at a meteor that streaked out of the atmosphere and left a blazing trail in the sky as it ran parallel to the seashore.

  Inside the shuttle, Rachel fought the bucking controls. A computer was good for space control, the automated sequences enough to issue commands and relay instructions. Once the shuttle hit atmosphere it was old fashioned flying.

  There was a yoke control in the panel for every landing and right now it squirmed and shimmied in her iron like grip and she flexed to keep the nose up. At least the flames had stopped and they could see blue sky through the view screen. They still trailed smoke, alarms on the interior filling the narrow cockpit with a dozen warning klaxon rings. Carver’s screams didn't help.

  The shuttle rocketed past DC, shedding tiles, panels and pieces that plopped down in the waters of the Potomac.

  Rachel worked to adjust airspeed as the computer ran through calculation after calculation. Even if she had control of the yoke, she relied on the machine to do most of the heavy lifting. It aimed for their destination and she just worked to bring them in in one piece.

  The shuttle streaked over the waters off the coast of Delaware and dropped lower toward the City. It came in across Lower Manhattan, streaking between buildings and hit on the edge of Central Park.

  The craft broke apart as it tumbled and rolled down the vast expanse of the park. Carver screamed as it gouged through the earth, Dawes and Rachel joined him. The last roll left them upside down and silent.

  Dirt trickled through the frame, all that's left of the shuttle craft after it scarred the metal. The alarms didn't survive the landing, just the creaks of metal a
nd electronic buzzing broke the silence.

  “Carver,” Dawes coughed.

  “What the hell you want man?” Carver moaned.

  “We're home.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Dawes and Rachel peeled Carver off the wall. The left straps of the duct tape on his suit, more intent on getting him out than making him look good.

  The trio limped from the wreckage as sirens blared from a contingent of NYPD's finest racing to the scene. News Helicopters rotated on the periphery of the park to capture the madness.

  “Think I can call my momma?” Carver asked.

  “When we get arrested,” said Rachel.

  “Better call your cousin,” Dawes told him. “Tell him about the truck.”

  “Shit man, I forgot about the truck. My cousin is going to kill me.”

  “Just tell him what happened.”

  “That I got kidnapped and sent into outer space to fight aliens and save the world?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You don't know my cousin.”

  The air behind them is split by a roar as the Harrier Cargo Jet hovers down from the skyline. It settled onto the scarred meadow as the cargo door split open. General Houston marched out followed by three armed guards.

  The media hovered over the park broadcasting it all in high definition.

  Houston stopped in front of Rachel.

  “Are you the only one?”

  “Yes sir,” she answered.

  “I'm sorry for your loss. Gary was a good man.”

  Rachel bowed her head. Houston put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. When he looked at Dawes and Carver, the kindness fled and was replaced by controlled rage.

  “Why didn't you men tell me who you were.”

  “We tried to but your ass wouldn't listen.”

  Houston's glare zeroed in on Carver.

  “Sir,” Carver squeaked.

  The General nodded.

  “Fair enough. You got the mission done,” he glanced over his shoulder at the carnage in the park and the hovering helicopters. “I guess our secret project is out in the open now.”