“I think they want all of us to get out,” said Powell, waving them out with one hand, holding on with the other. They all got out and held onto the capsule and each other to prevent themselves from floating off. None of them, including ex-SEAL Sorensen, had any experience in zero-g, save for General McIver, the head of the now-fallen WGA Space Force.
The wand-bearing Outcast approached and waved it over each of them in turn, like a thorough spaceport security check. And that’s exactly what this was – security protocol. These beings were at war, and wartime measures were clearly in place and very thorough. The wand-bearer stowed his device and entered the capsule, emerging five minutes later to retake his stand-off position. No one spoke. The soldiers waited.
The double doors slid open, and what Powell could only describe as a humanoid amphibian strode awkwardly towards them. His gait was wide and lurching, his legs seemed unsteady and jelly-like. He wore only a white belt and white boots, which was presumably how he managed to walk on the floor without floating off. His skin was predominantly a dark, greyish-blue tone with a dappled pattern of teal-coloured spots. It glistened in the light as if slimy, reminding Powell of a frog. When his webbed, five-digit hands move away from his body as he walked, a flap of skin could be seen joining the top third of his arms to his torso. The hands were large like shovel blades and one of them carried something. The silver metal cylinder had a handle by which he held it. A mesh covered the circular ends. On the insides of his legs a concertina of skin could be seen folded up from the groin to just above the ankle-high boots. ‘He’ may not have been a he at all, as there were no genitalia recognisable to the humans present. It wasn't known whether they produced sexually like humans, asexually or even heterogamily – the alternating between the sexual and asexual modes of reproduction. Truth-be-told, they knew almost nothing about their prospective hosts. His watery eyes were pure black and kept moist by the blinking of translucent eyes lids. There was no nose, and where Powell had expected to see ears there were just slits – perhaps they were vestigial gills. The mouth was wide and fish-like with tiny teeth lining the edges.
The eight soldiers gathered on either side of the now stationary leader, weapons still aimed at the humans. The leader approached them and stopped three metres away. By human standards his facial expressions were hardly even discernible, despite some fleeting movements and changes. He raised the cylinder to his mouth and intoned a gargling message into the circular end. As he did so, his dappled skin spots seemed to pulse to a lighter shade of greenish-blue. After a mere second's delay, the synthesized translation filled their ears with English words and their faces with expressions of wonder.
“We are the Outcasts - we welcome you, human friends. I am Esai, the leader of the Outcast military. For safety, we must send your ship out into space. Tell me who you are.”
He said nothing further and simply stared at each of them in turn.
Powell spoke first. “I am Stephen Powell, President of the United States.” He turned to Romero and indicated for him to go on. Each of them introduced themselves in turn. The gargling Outcast translation of their English words emanated from the device; with each name came the pulsing of Esai’s skin spots. Satisfied, Esai motioned his soldiers to take one human each and escort them rapidly through the double doors, which closed once the last of them had been floated through. The only delay was when they had to lobby Esai to go back and collect the EQP transceiver, the computer, and the gift lest they be lost to space. After a short pause he considered, then allowed Sorensen to go back with two soldiers assisting him. The human crew capsule was jettisoned and they made their way on a re-entry course in the Outcast shuttle to the surface of the rust-red moon named Exelon.
The shuttle descended to a low altitude and tracked across a boulder-strewn plain at what would have been Mach-five had Exelon had the same atmospheric density as Earth. Clearly, the planet-sized moon did not have such a dense blanket of atmosphere. As President Powell and the others peered out from the speeding shuttle, they struggled to keep up with the detail flashing by. Powell looked up through the elliptical porthole and could still see the dark of space through the rarefied atmosphere. There was a long, cirrus-like feather of cloud visible between the enormous presence of green gas giant, Demeter, to the right, and another moon to the left. This moon looked half the size of Earth’s and similarly airless and barren as the familiar satellite. A great impact crater sat close to the centre of the circular grey disc. The shuttle entered a steep-sided gorge; dark and mysterious in shadow. After several seconds, the shuttle seemed to decelerate and take a hair-raising right turn. It pushed Powell hard into his strangely uncomfortable seat; a seat clearly not made for the human form. He felt surprisingly heavy again and realised that the effects of gravity had returned. Ten second later and the craft had decelerated to a crawl as it entered the dim glow of the gaping hangar door set back into the rust-red canyon-side. The shuttle hovered slowly through the football-pitch-sized aperture. The hangar extended some distance to the front, the left and the right. It contained well over a hundred craft of several different types. They turned right and landed inside a circle of red lights between another shuttle and a much smaller dagger-shaped craft – a fighter – probably a drone, speculated Powell.
The six humans followed Esai with their legs aching after sitting and being in zero-g for the past few hours. It could have been worse – gravity on Exelon was a little less than on Earth, whereas on Gaia it was twenty-percent higher. The super-charged oxygen atmosphere was helping to power their bodies and made them feel alive and awake. It wouldn't be long until the effects of oxygen toxicity kicked in and Sorensen, the ex-SEAL, knew it. They passed through a hatch in the bottom of the shuttle and down an inclined tube, which levelled out to horizontal. The tunnel was a glistening rust-red, as if a layer of glass or resin had been applied to the rock surface to seal it. Makes sense, thought Powell – a way to seal the humid, oxygen-rich air into the permeable rock of the underground base. The base that now awaited the visitors from a hostage-Earth.
Chapter Two
April 9, 2063: Outcast Underground Base, Exelon
Esai and his soldiers had shown them to a large room with red rock walls, ceiling and floor. The floor was smooth, the walls and ceiling less so and all were covered in shiny sealant. They’d noticed it immediately on entering the room. The air in here, in their new quarters, was drier and more rarefied than in the shuttle and the base tunnel they'd just walked through. It was Earth-like air, and the Outcasts had been thoughtful and knowledgeable enough to provide an atmosphere that was breathable to humans in the long-term. The room was sparse, containing only six mint-green mattresses made of some sort of natural sponge. A small rock cube sat in the corner serving as a table on top of which were six cups and a large metal container of water. Sorensen placed the notebook computer out of the way in the corner next to the EQP transceiver and the gift that the Outcast soldiers had portered there.
“I hope that hole in the corner isn’t the toilet,” remarked Christina.
She walk over to it and looked down to see the water level a metre below the floor.
“Oh, dear…And what about clothes?” she asked, sighing.
“Doesn't look like they’re big on clothes, apart from the soldiers. Hell, they were gawking at us as if we are weird; probably wondered what purpose our clothes have. They don’t protect us like armour, it’s not cold – quite the opposite...” said the giant Wilke, amused by the surreal world he’d found himself in.
“I think we might have to explain some human customs to our hosts. Let’s not worry about it for now – there are more important things on the agenda,” said a serious Powell, weighty issues swimming in his head.
The door opened and in stepped a naked Outcast. Two helmet-wearing soldiers in their matte-black, armoured suits, their dark visors hiding their faces, flanked him. A small side arm was clipped onto their hips. It was hard to tell if the Outcast in the centre was Esai or not, s
o similar did the au naturel examples look.
“Not Esai, whispered Romero to Powell – different pattern of spots…”
The Outcast held up his cylindrical translator to his mouth like a megaphone and spoke.
“I am Adai, the Leader of us Outcasts. Who is your leader?” he asked, spots pulsing slightly. His head and black eyes turned from face to face, as if reading their thoughts. Before Powell spoke, Adai’s gaze settled on the President.
“I am leader – President of the United States of America, Stephen Powell. You can call me Stephen,” replied Powell. He held out his right hand to Adai and smiled. The amphibious alien looked at his hand.
“This is how we greet each other. This is how we show that we would like to be friends,” explained Powell. The gurgling noise that was Outcast-speak came out of the translator and Adai seemed to understand. He reached out his right hand and Powell clasped it in handshake as best he could, given its large size. The first handshake of a lasting and true friendship of peoples, hoped Powell.
“Bill,” continued Powell, addressing Wilke the tall Secret Service man, “could you get the gift over there in the corner and bring it here please?”
Wilke retrieved the gift and handed it to Powell.
“We have brought you a small gift from our people as a sign of friendship and good intentions,” announced Powell. He passed the medium-sized oil painting wrapped in brown paper to Adai. The Outcast leader took it in both hands and stared at the gift, not knowing what to do with it.
“Thank you, Stephen. What is it?” said the synthesised translation of Adai’s voice.
“It is covered in paper. Remove the covering and you will see,” he replied.
Adai removed the paper and held the painting at arm’s length. His spots pulsated rapidly as he stared at the collage of famous world landmarks. Some aides had wanted him to present a Revolutionary War painting – they had thought it more fitting. But Powell had insisted that a depiction of humanity’s propensity for violence, or anything hinting of it, was the last thing they needed. He had to admit though, that history had been shaped by battle and it seemed as though it had now been scaled up to interstellar proportions.
“It is a great gift. Thank you, Stephen,” came the synthesized voice of Adai.
“You are welcome,” Powell replied, feeling glad they’d gone with bland. He doubted Adai, or any other alien, really understood the significance of those landmarks. The giving of gift was another human cultural trait that they’d naturally assumed would be appreciated by the Outcast. Never mind, thought Powell, it was the intention that was important and Adai did not seem offended, as far as he could tell. He just hoped that one day he’d be able to show the alien Earth’s great landmarks on the painting in person.
“What are the other two objects, Stephen?” asked Adai, gazing with his glistening black eyes towards the EQP transceiver and notebook computer. Powell explained what they were to the alien leader’s apparent satisfaction. He was familiar with the EQP and the computer, although clearly not the particular form of the examples in the room.
Adai, gargle-spoke for half a minute, then paused as the translator started its synthesised English. “We hope you can help us and we can help you. We have a common enemy in the faction of Alphas called the Korgax. Before the war, we Outcasts dominated the oceans of Gaia and much of the coastline. The Alphas dominated the land. We lived quite harmoniously without major wars. We traded. We talked. Then the Korgax regime came to power and fought the other factions. We do not like war. We do not want war. But we were drawn into the war against the Korgax. They destroyed our cities under the oceans and by the shore. They attacked our space stations and colonies. They love war. Their leaders profit from war.”
The humans learnt more about extraterrestrial life in that half a minute than they’d done in the history of Avendano exploration and all of time before it.
Powell replied, “We humans were exploring your system with unarmed probes and we were attacked. We tried to communicate and offer friendship to the beings you call the Korgax, but our probes were fired upon. I am sad to say that they have acquired Faster-Than-Light technology from us by accident. They used it to send their fleet to our planet, Earth, and destroyed most of our military infrastructure and all of our space assets. They are demanding our surrender and want to settle large parts of Earth, and it seems they want it as their vassal world. They are threatening us with an asteroid strike if we do not comply. I’m afraid we do not have the means to resist them and we need your assistance.”
Adai replied. The translation seemed to go on for some time, pausing at points as the processor inside the cylinder did its job.
“We, too, are now weak. This base is our last stronghold. It comes under frequent attack. The Korgax have a base on the moon of Arlon, like Exelon, a satellite of Demeter. We have some spies amongst the Korgax. Sometimes we know when attacks are planned. This is how we were able to give you a time window for your journey here. The Korgax dominate what you call the Avendano system and all of the system’s space. Our losses are mounting and soon we fear we will not be able to protect this base. We know they are already planning an invasion. They will try to kill all who resist them. They will do the same to your people too if you resist. They have profited from war for too long and their leaders will not stop. Now that they have our FTL technology, I fear they will spread their evil throughout the galaxy.”
“You said your FTL technology?” exclaimed Powell with surprise, turning to McIver, then Christina, as if for answers. Neither of them spoke and just shrugged. Adai answered via his translator machine.
“Yes, it was us that developed the FTL drive, Stephen. We have known about your people for a very long time.”
Powell could hardly believe what he was hearing. “How so, Adai?” he asked incredulously.
“For many years we picked up your radio broadcasts from Earth. We fixed their source more than a hundred Earth-years ago. It started a great debate on Gaia. We felt that you humans must have discovered our presence too. We Outcasts wanted to build a probe and intensify the broadcasting of our signals towards Earth in the hope of contact. At that time, we had not yet developed FTL. Some Alphas, including the Korgax faction, feared you. Then the War of Gaia started. During the war, they detected several detonations on Earth that they interpreted as nuclear blasts. Visuals coinciding with gamma ray bursts. They argued that humans must be a violent race. As the war turned in their favour, the Korgax started a programme of suppressing stray transmissions, expanding laser communications and the use of relay satellites and cables on Gaia. It also helped them prevent disruption and interception during the war. We continued to develop the FTL drive in the hope you could help us win the war. Twenty Earth-years ago we transitted an experimental craft to Earth and gave you the secrets of the FTL drive. The research base under the ocean of Gaia was destroyed shortly afterwards and so began our retreat from the planet.”
“How did I not know about this, General?” asked a frustrated Powell to McIver, chief of the now-defunct WGA Space Force.
“Sir, I had no idea of this either!” protested a confused-looking McIver.
“We had no means to rebuild the FTL drive after the research base was lost. We just hoped you’d got it and managed to work out our signals. You did, and we received your package two Earth-months ago from your NSA and a man called Captain Yusuf Kaya.”
“That part I do know about, Adai. We thank you for your offer of help during our time of need. Kaya and his team deciphered your signals just in time. We were not sure if it was a trap. We can see now your offer is genuine and we have a common enemy,” said Powell.
“Yes, you are right, Stephen. Now we must decide how we can fight the powerful Korgax. First, let us show you around the base. It is important in our culture to understand our surroundings, or else we cannot feel relaxed.”
“That would be great. Thank you, Adai,” replied Powell, offering his handshake once more in friendship.
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Chapter Three
April 9, 2063: Special Space Service Sergeant, Matthew ‘Chip’ Hart’s Bunker, Hereford, England
Hart awoke at 7am after a restless night’s sleep in the family bunker. After the recon mission on Gaia – Operation Far Light – had uncovered the Alien threat, he’d set about building the bunker underneath his suburban family home. He switched on the small bedside lamp, which sat on the floor next to his bed. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat up against the bare concrete wall on the bottom bunk below his wife Zara, still snoozing gently up top. Opposite was the other bunk with his little boys: six-year-old Quin, below, and Calum, eight, above. He regarded Quin’s boyish features for a moment, his blonde hair and his Batman pyjamas. His kids had only known the safety of the world before the Alien attack, and now he didn't know what to expect. But one thing was certain: he needed a situation update, so decided to take a look outside before the family awoke. He wanted to assess the situation, reconcile the plan of action and be at one with it before they could detect any uncertainty in his demeanour. He knew that uncertainty could only feed fear at a time like this and that was something he wanted to shield his soft, vulnerable suburban family from.
The Vassal World (The First Exoplanet Book 2) Page 2
