First Contact (Terran Chronicles)

by James Jackson

  “The natives don't like us much do they?” Intones one of the bridge crew, as his view screen displays a person firing at them with a rifle.

  “No they don't.” Responds the Prime. “Lockdown mode until instructed. Do not harm them, we will let them settle down before proceeding.” The crowd’s projectiles so insignificant that impacts do not even register on any system.

  Throughout the rest of the day and night, emergency crews work hard to get to the injured and clear congested intersections. Soon, the military are called to take to the streets with the Gendarme in an effort to restore order. By morning, the death toll is in the hundreds, with thousands injured. As if to add insult to injury, the spacecraft sends out a message in the same metallic sounding tone that is fast becoming associated with the aliens.

  “Regent Voknor of the Gamin wishes to share our knowledge with you. All medical personnel are invited to attend training sessions.”

  The message repeats throughout the day indicating that the following morning will be the start of biological training for all those that wish it.

  At the urging of politicians, a few doctors and surgeons are encouraged to attend. Some others will also attend, though they are far from being in the medical field.

  Chapter Six - Training.

  Location:

  Manhattan Island

  New York

  Sometime during the night deliveries are made to each residence. Many people are nervous, others excited, as they don the uniforms as instructed. George looks at his off-white jumpsuit with curiosity. Lisa's outfit has not arrived yet, thus, she plans to spend the day inside with their son Johnny.

  “It fits you well.” Says Lisa in an encouraging tone. Though scared she tries not to show it.

  The morning news carries with it speeches from a number of politicians encouraging people to work with the Gamin. There is a brief discussion about the asteroid impact and subsequent loss of life in Manhattan being an accident. This collateral damage being an unfortunate result of our own missiles, according to one reporter. While the family watches the news, George is quite distracted as he looks at his outfit. Suddenly the wall screen changes, displaying instructions that he is to head outside and walk toward the spacecraft.

  “Well, it's time to see what this is all about.” He smiles as he puts on a brave face. “Love you and see you, umm, after work.”

  “I love you too.” Lisa replies as she attempts to hide her fear.

  With trepidation George gives his wife a soft kiss then, ruffling his son’s hair, smiles and heads out. His heart is heavy, but having worked all his life he won't sit back and take handouts, not even from these creatures. Besides, he wants to learn about them, to discover for himself, the truth behind the destruction of Manhattan. Was this an accident or did they murder his friends and family?

  Just like their counterparts in Russia, this morning finds a number of people leaving their rooms and heading toward the massive spacecraft. Some go out of curiosity, others because they are still stunned at having lost everything due to the asteroid strike. Yet, some go in hatred with thoughts of revenge on their minds.

  Once outside, George heads toward the alien spacecraft. A few others are also heading in the same direction. Within a few minutes they form a small group that quietly walks along. A few more minutes pass and they do not seem to be getting any closer. Finally entering its shadow, George starts to fully appreciate the size of this vessel. The underside of the alien craft stands high overhead, easily the height of a thirty story building. Looking up, he can see the underside of the ship where there are armor plates that seem to be linked together. He can see that some of these sections are scorched, others dented, and some even seem to have holes and tears in them. As others gawk and point at various places, George realizes in awe that the damage must actually be quite great in order for it to be so clearly visible at this distance. Off toward the rear of the craft, alien cranes extend upward as strange tracked vehicles move about.

  George is in a group of fifteen people as they approach a trio of aliens. Though they vary a little in height, the shortest alien is still taller than most people. Their motley green bodies appear very muscular with arms and legs having bony looking spikes. It marks these creatures as very alien indeed. Two men suddenly break free from the group, run forward drawing hand guns and fire at the aliens relentlessly. The noise of gun fire shatters the quiet day. George dives to the ground as people scatter in panic. Some people run, trying to put as much distance as possible between them, the attackers, and the alien targets. The aliens do not even move, and merely stare at the two men. One of the aliens turns to his associates and says something unintelligible, makes an odd gesture, then looks forward again. The splintered crowd moves even further away from the two would be assailants, as they run out of bullets. All are awaiting a violent response from the aliens or the ship, or something. The aliens lean in toward each other, as if conversing. The two men throw their guns down in disgust then start to back away, they are quite scared now, their attack having no effect whatsoever.

  One of the aliens beckons with a hand gesture and says quite simply.

  “The rest of you may follow us.” The voice is mildly metallic, as has come to be expected. “You two will be dealt with by your own authorities.” The beckoning hand now points at the two gun men with its three clawed fingers. The gun men, who upon seeing the gesture take it as menacing, turn and run.

  Off in the distance a wailing siren can be heard approaching. George wonders as he gets up, what deals the government has made as it becomes clear the sirens are coming this way. The two assailants continue to run, perhaps they forgot that they are trapped. They make it half way to a bridge, as a squad of police cars pull up. With a final show of defeat the two gun men lay on the ground, arms and legs spread.

  With the excitement of the morning over, and no hostilities from these aliens the group move forward. George mutters, “Well played,” to no-one in particular. Heading toward the ramp, the sheer size of this spacecraft once again comes into perspective. George, plus the remaining twelve people, follow the aliens up the side of the ramp to what appears to be a marked walking area. The ramp itself is large enough for numerous vehicles to travel up and down simultaneously. A soft glow of light is visible up ahead inside the massive vessel.

  Entering the spacecraft, the group find themselves inside a cavernous hold. All types of vehicles are suspended from the ceiling, hang on the walls, or are lined along the floor area. Some of these seem to be aircraft, others tracked land vehicles. Entering a room off to one side, the group finds even more aliens. The expected chairs and desks do not exist, instead there stand a number of what look to be exoskeletons. The doors to the room slowly close, and in excellent English one of the aliens speaks up.

  “Please come forward, step into the body suits. These are training suits.”

  The aliens that led the group fade away right before their eyes. As the others hesitate, George steps forward and positions himself against one of the body suits, exoskeleton, whatever it is. The suit closes around him forming a snug fit. A helmet swings down, contacting with his head. A kaleidoscope of colors washes past his eyes, at first the colors are fuzzy and unclear, and make him dizzy, even queasy. Within minutes, they clear up and start to coalesce, creating a peaceful feeling. George gives a thumbs up to those in the room. He knows that if these aliens really wanted to harm them, they most certainly could have by now.

  George looks out through a clear visor that also acts as a computer screen, information indecipherable to him, scrolls up and down from time to time. Out through this, he sees others falling out of similar suits, throwing up, or just sitting down, obviously in distress. Only a few people, it seems, are compatible with these body suits. Those that are not, are led away, leaving only five of their group in the room.

  A green skinned alien steps in front of George, holds up a screen with a picture of a three clawed hand and points to the stubby end of the suit’s a
rm. Moving the arm up, George can see that it just ends. He thought there were attachments that plugged in. The Gamin points at the screen again, his vertical yellow eyes blinking. George looks at the stub where the suit ends and thinks that these suits are pretty useless, not having any hands. At that thought a human like hand, though large and metallic looking, appears. The Gamin holding the screen just stares at the hand for a moment, then holds up the screen, revealing another picture. This goes on for hours, as object after object is created, simply by George thinking about it. Others in the room seem to be having mixed success. The day goes by quickly and before long, the small group of five people is lead back out of the spacecraft. George hurries back to his assigned room, he is quite thrilled by the day’s experience.

  Once inside, he again ruffles his son’s hair, and hugs his wife. “The aliens had us wearing special suits that could manifest objects from nothing.” His voice is tinged with a little excitement.

  Johnny is most fascinated by what he hears about the suits. “Dad, do you think I could get one?”

  “Not yet son, you’re way too young to be working, schooling is what you need.” He glances to his wife as he indicates with a quiet look, that they will chat later about his day.

  The family heads back out to the mess hall where they enjoy another great meal. There seems to be a few more people here this evening, but none that any of them recognize. After a satisfying meal, the three of them walk hand in hand as they head back in their room. Lisa and Johnny chat a little about their day and fill George in on current events before they all retire for the night.

  Once George and Lisa are in bed he quietly recounts the day's events. “I feel at odds about working with these creatures. Their attack did destroy our neighborhood and kill many of our friends. I don’t know if I believe our politicians either. It's difficult, perhaps we should just leave this place and not come back.”

  Lisa thinks long and hard before she responds. “We do not know if they meant to hit the city or not. You have said tonight that these aliens could easily have killed everyone on the planet. Instead they are helping us. This is a pivotal time for humanity and yes, we could leave, or we could face this challenge, together. If you want to leave we will, of course. But I think our answers are here, if there are any, so we should stay to find out.”

  He knows she is right. If they leave, they will never know the truth, and without that he knows he won't find peace. “We will stay then, and learn as much as we can about these aliens.” He smiles at his wife, her support for him unwavering, even at a time like this. “I do love you.”

  George is so drained mentally he falls asleep in minutes. He sleeps long and hard as he dreams about the possibilities of the body suits these Gamin have. It takes Lisa a lot longer to fall asleep, she feels a great loss for the people that were killed. She finds it hard to believe a race of beings that can traverse space would bother with killing Earth’s people for no reason at all. Watching her sleeping man, she feels a sense of pride that he is coping, but wonders when the loss of his father will catch up to him. His mother died in a Manhattan hospital while giving birth to him, leaving his father all alone.

  Location:

  Forest area west of Clamart

  Paris, France

  The small group that turns up this morning includes an unarmed Radclyf, dressed in blue jeans with a tan colored shirt. Looking at the spacecraft he can see the massive armor plates, landing struts and a ramp in the craft’s midsection. Radclyf casually looks at the side of the ramp and where it would raise up to. It would seem that the armor plates are over thirty feet thick, with the hull about three feet thick beneath that. The armor itself, is dented and scorched, even melted in places, indicating a space battle perhaps. Maybe we damaged the fleet with all the missiles that were launched? But with armor like this he wonders if even a nuclear blast would penetrate the ship. The armor is layered in plates and looks as though it is meant to give and flex, preventing hull and or structural damage. With a sigh, he realizes there is going to be no way of destroying these ships from the outside. If these Gamin go hostile there is nothing he can do, especially with the weapons at his team’s disposal. Perhaps a massive blast from inside would damage the spacecraft, but how would this be done?

  Once up the ramp and inside the spacecraft the group of seventeen people can see smaller craft attached to walls, the ceiling, and even some tracked vehicles on the floor. A single alien stands off in the distance. He is tall, with the mottled green skin they all seem to have, and that snout full of teeth. The alien is wearing some sort of jumpsuit, and though is a fair distance away his yellow eyes seem to glow.

  A metallic sound voice sounds out, “Suivre,” as the creature moves off.

  Oh French, of course, luckily that won't be a problem, thinks Radclyf with a whimsical smile, this is France after all, what was he expecting? Armed with only a powerful, but small recorder Radclyf turns it on. The small unit will record every sound, its built-in camera useless in his pocket, however.

  After a short trek, the group catches up to the alien and finds that he is indeed tall, taller than everyone in the group. The alien has sharp looking bone spikes jutting from his arms and legs, they don't seem to bother the alien as it struts ahead. Soon enough, the group finds themselves in a large room with tables, chairs, and many view screens along one wall. The alien continues in French.

  “I have been assigned to provide training in biologics. Sit down, place either hand on the table and state your name.” The Alien does not introduce itself, merely stands at the front of the room.

  Everyone sits at the desks. Radclyf sits, to find the desk and chair quite comfortable. Not being sure of what these aliens know or don’t know, he states his real name. As soon as he does the table lights up, and reveals itself to be a touch screen computer interface.

  Once everyone has done as asked, the alien continues its lecture.

  “You call your species human. Though many creatures inhabit this planet, yours is the most advanced. Today's lesson is about creatures that use oxygenated blood to function. This is a common system found throughout many species. A key ability of this system is self repair, healing. A key failing of this system is that with many interdependent components, the failure of one can end the creature’s life.”

  The alien continues on and starts using terminology that Radclyf cannot understand. At times information is displayed, in French, on his table top. The Gamin it seems, know a lot about humans, a whole lot. Radclyf is hopelessly lost and finds his concentration wandering. After a while he is brought back with words he definitely understands.

  “Humans spend many cycles growing to maturity, then after only an average of forty cycles of productivity, they spend many cycles again being useless as they wait to die. Non productive time exceeds productive time for many. With the addition of the chemicals displayed, humans can expect to more than double the lifespan to about one hundred fifty cycles, with an increase of useful productivity of greater than one hundred cycles.”

  Again, Radclyf finds the medical jargon leaps way ahead of him, but he does now wonder about the wording. By the end of the day he is bewildered by the idea of living for one hundred fifty or more years, and being fully active for most of those. By late afternoon the session is complete. The alien invites the attendees to a follow up session scheduled for the next day. The few medical people in the room are quite excited by today's seminar. Many have taken notes and plan to research the claims made by this alien.

  Radclyf can only wonder why the Gamin want us to live longer, are we slaves, servants, either way what is the motive for this help? Perhaps the loss of life was a mistake after all, and they feel bad about it, though he doubts that. He can't believe what he has heard and begins to wonder about his own translation. He exits the spacecraft via the same ramp they entered, then, heading back to the hotel, he takes a meandering route designed to lose any would be followers.

  As Radclyf rounds a corner his senses instant
ly go on full alert. There, resting against a wall smoking an old English pipe, is the very same tall man from the ferry. Casually leaning there, he says in excellent French. “Ah my old friend, it is good to see you went to the medical seminar. Please won’t you join me for a stroll?” The man from the ferry steps ahead. Radclyf, though alert is also very curious and walks behind the man. He is ready for action as he scans all around. Radclyf's nerves tingle as they head toward the very hotel he is staying in, but he stays quietly alert and says nothing.

  Walking on, the man ahead finally speaks between puffs on his pipe “My name is Peter, I am a fan of yours Radclyf. You should be quite proud, your military career is required reading for many of us. Let me put you at ease though. I used to be a Russian sleeper agent, that is, until politics deemed me obsolete about twenty years ago. With no family or friends at home, I decided to stay in England and continue teaching. In any case, I could not in good conscious abandon my students. However old ties die hard, so I find myself here under orders. Does the term Archangel allay your concerns?” Peter stops and gives Radclyf a knowing smile. “Shall we convene in my room or one of yours? I was informed that your team is here with you and I have vital information to share.”

  Radclyf's mind is racing as he ponders the situation. His cover obviously blown, seemingly also his team’s. “My room will be good.” At least there he knows, well he hopes, it's safe.

  Convening is his room with his team members, Radclyf feels much more at ease. Peter allows himself to be frisked, which further relaxes Radclyf.

  “OK Peter, what is this information that we must hear?” Radclyf feels much more in control, being in his own room with his team present.

  Peter takes a seat and while quite nonchalantly lighting his pipe, starts his tale. “There is an attack planned on the alien spaceship, by a group of French rebels calling themselves a resistance of some sorts. This attack is not in our best interests and must be stopped. By our interests, I am speaking globally, not just of Russian interests. I have full details of the group's main hide out and have been authorized to accompany you, should you desire my presence.”