V03 - The Pursuit of Diana

by Allen L. Wold

  The first mortuary compartment that Caleb, Arnold, Aaron, Robert, and William visited had no survivors. As a last-minute idea, Aaron had suggested that they all wear respirators, and that proved to be a good idea, since the stench of the decaying bodies would otherwise have overwhelmed them.

  In the second compartment, they found a woman who had died only recently. In the third compartment, however, they found three who were still alive—two women and a man. They sealed these three up in suspension coffins and after preliminary decontamination in their portable air lock, left them in the corridor to be picked up by a follow-up crew.

  When they entered the fourth compartment, they thought at first that none were alive. But even as they were turning to leave, one of the bodies, that of a large captain wearing the disguise of a black man, turned over and fired. Aaron fell with a cry.

  Caleb strode into the mass of putrefaction and grabbed the gun out of the captain's hand. The survivor was too weak to resist.

  "Aaron's dead," Arnold reported, crouching down to examine his friend.

  "Maybe we should just leave this guy here," Caleb said, pointing the gun at the black captain's head.

  "No," Robert objected. "I want this man alive. This is the guy who promised he'd let me get my family away from the mountain camp if I'd tell him where it was." He came over and stood beside Caleb, looking down at Jake. "Your word as a father," he said. "My wife died because of your treachery. I want to see you face whatever punishment they decide is appropriate." He stepped back and helped William wrestle in a suspension coffin.

  "Where's Diana?" Jake asked, his voice a weak rasp.

  "Not where you're ever going to find her," Robert said as he and William lifted the captain into the coffin. "Not until you stand trial with her." He sealed the box.

  One of the laboratories had been converted into a decontamination center. As trusted members of the ship's crew brought in the coffins containing the survivors from the mortuary compartments, Visitor doctors placed them into air-tight chambers, where most of the toxin clinging to their clothes was flushed out of the ship.

  Mike and Julie watched as one of the doctors entered the chamber that now held Captain Jake. After a quick examination, he was given a sedative, then stripped. His clothes were stuffed into a box which would later be jettisoned.

  The doctor left the compartment, it was flushed again, and the now-comatose captain was removed to another room where he could be given proper treatment while security could be assured.

  "That one's a real prize," Julie said.

  "In what way?" Mike asked.

  "He was very visible on Earth," Julie explained, "at least in Los Angeles. And he's totally loyal to Diana, or at least to their leader. If we can get him to talk under truth serum about the Visitor's original objectives, their plans, and the facts of conversion, and record all that, we could have a powerful tool to help convince people on Earth that our claims are true."

  "That's a very good point," Mike said. "I'll go talk to Martin about that right now."

  It was the middle of the morning at the suspension plant. National Guardsmen stood at their posts around the fence and at the doors to the building. High overhead was the descending form of a shuttle. When it landed, a lieutenant came out from the plant to stand in front of the shuttle's hatch.

  Wary, armed, Mike Donovan and Martin descended from the shuttle.

  "I'm Lieutenant Wallace, Mr. Donovan," the officer said. "I'm the commanding officer here, under direct orders from

  Lieutenant Governor Dennis W. Simon. I and my men are to assist you in every way in the restoring of suspended human prisoners to life."

  "I'm glad to meet you, Lieutenant," Mike said, extending a hand. "This is Martin, a Visitor and a friend."

  "Pleased to meet you, Martin," Wallace said, shaking his hand too. "Have you brought technicians with you?"

  "We have," Martin said as George, Annie, Joanna, and Phyllis descended from the shuttle, followed by two dozen other Visitors and four rebels. "Unless there was damage done to the machinery in the plant, we should have it operable within an hour or so."

  "Excellent. You'll want to attend to those humans who were brought down previously first. I hope they're all still alive. I sincerely apologize for having interfered with their revival earlier."

  "If any of them fails to pull through," Mike said, "it's not us but their families you'll have to apologize to."

  "I'm aware of that, Mr. Donovan. Even though I was only following orders, I still feel responsible. I know it's no excuse, but my superior officers, and theirs too, haven't been exactly consistent in their instructions."

  "That's the effect of conversion," Martin said. "Either directly or as a result of orders passed down from someone converted higher up."

  "I understand that," Wallace said, "but I'm sure you understand that in both the government and the military, we get into the habit of doing what we're told, even if it doesn't make any sense. Hell, it almost never makes any sense. But those that don't follow orders soon find themselves weeded out."

  "That's exactly why we're so concerned about convertees in positions of authority," Mike said. "And we've got plans on how to handle that too. But right here and now, these human suspendees are our primary concern. Are we going to have any problems with security?"

  "I don't think so. A number of civilians are unhappy about that ship being up there in the first place, of course, and groups of vandals have tried to break in several times, with no success. Once we start releasing suspendees, our image will improve considerably."

  "I sure hope so," Mike said.

  "Can you give us a hand bringing more suspendees off the shuttle?" Martin asked. "The only other people we brought with us will be busy getting the machinery working."

  "Certainly," Lieutenant Wallace said. He signaled to a sergeant. "Duty detail here, on the double," he ordered. The sergeant saluted and went to get his men in order.

  They had the thirty coffins offloaded in short order. Then Mike and Martin went into the plant with the lieutenant while the four other rebels who'd come with them reboarded the shuttle to take it back up to the ship for another load.

  Juliet Parrish and Barbara sat at the control board in front of the conversion chamber. Arnold, the master technician, and several other Visitors occupied the other chairs.

  "We've never had to run the process backward," Arnold said, flipping switches. "No reason why it shouldn't work, however."

  "We're going to need a guinea pig to work with," Juliet said. "And since I'm the only one here who's undergone conversion, I'm the logical choice."

  "You can't take that risk," Barbara objected. "What if something goes wrong? The psychic shock of entering the chamber itself could be enough to damage you."

  "I know that, and I don't like it. Just looking at that chamber brings back all the memories of what Diana did to me. But who else can we use?"

  "I don't know," Arnold said, "but you're the one person who's keeping us all together. If anything happens to you, our whole organization will fall apart."

  "Nonsense," Julie protested. "Mike can take over for me. Or Ham. Or Martin."

  "Well, Mike maybe," Barbara said, "but he's not here now. And Ham may be competent at what he does, but people won't follow him the way they will you. And Martin just doesn't have the leadership potential. No, Julie, we're going to have to find another guinea pig."

  "Please use a different term," one of the technicians said. "You're making me hungry."

  The bulky blocks of machinery from which the conveyers emerged were only the tip of the iceberg. Putting humans into suspended animation required much more equipment than that, but most of it was concealed behind the walls against which the machines stood. But it was at the machines that the controls were located, and it was there that the processes of the concealed equipment could be adjusted, changed, adapted, or reversed.

  And hence it was there rather than in the recesses of the plant that the Visitor technicians
labored. They were now working on the last machine. All the others were now in operation, albeit slowly until refinements could be made.

  Martin stood by one of the lines, watching as human beings, naked and damp from the solution in which they had been stored, slowly moved past to be helped off the conveyers. Still befogged by the suspension process, they were not aware of their nakedness, felt no shame as rebels and Visitors helped them on with clothes.

  These clothes had been provided by one of the larger chain stores in Los Angeles, which was taking full advantage of the situation. On the one hand, they were planning to claim the full retail price as a tax deduction. On the other, they were publicizing their contribution to promote their line. As far as the revivees were concerned, such things obviously didn't matter.

  As each person was dressed, he or she was led to another part of the plant where the person was given stimulants, plenty of liquids, and a little solid food by volunteers from Pomona and other nearby towns. The revivees were still dazed, though by-this time they had recovered their sense of self enough to be confused to find themselves in such a place.

  Here, after their brief meals, they were queried about their identities, their addresses, and the names of relatives. Since most of them had lived in San Pedro, they had no one to take them home. Other volunteers manned a jury-rigged switchboard in an effort to find someone to take the people away. There was no more room in the local hospitals.

  From outside the plant came the muffled sounds of angry shouts. Having seen the shuttles descending time after time and then returning to the Mother Ship, a number of people had come to see what was going on. Some of them, not believing either the taped message the rebels had prepared or the assurances of the soldiers inside the plant, were convinced that Visitors were being smuggled back down to Earth to take over again.

  Mike Donovan and Lieutenant Wallace stood in one of the windowed offices at the front of the building, watching the restive crowd outside. A corporal came up to tell them that some families belonging to the revivees had been found, and should be arriving even now.

  "I think a demonstration is in order," Mike said. "Our own communications with the rest of the community aren't good enough. Bring out those revivees whose families have responded and any of those who can get about on their own."

  Lieutenant Wallace nodded his approval of the suggestion, and the corporal went off to do as he was bid. He returned a few moments later with about twenty people. They were pitiful, in poorly fitting clothes, still confused, and frightened by being in a strange place. The noise of the crowd outside was not reassuring either.

  The corporal had also brought a squad of armed soldiers with him. Under Mike's direction, these went out the front door first and took up positions of guard. The crowd quieted for a moment and then started muttering again.

  Then, with Mike on one side and Lieutenant Wallace on the other, the twenty or so revivees filed out of the building and into the parking lot. Once again the crowd quieted.

  "Some of you are here in answer to our phone calls," Mike said to the crowd. "We have some of your friends and family here. If you recognize someone, please come forward, identify yourselves, and take these people home."

  "It's a fake," someone in the crowd called.

  "Just another trick," someone else answered.

  "No," a woman yelled. She forced her way through the mob. "Mother?" she cried. One of the revivees, an elderly Spanish woman, looked up.

  "Rosita," she said. Her voice, audible to all, was perfectly normal, perfectly human.

  "Mother," the younger woman beyond the front gate cried again. She forced her way through and ran to the older woman, folding her in her arms.

  And now others came forward, recognizing familiar faces among the revivees. The crowd stood silent, and then a man stepped forward.

  "What about those others?" he asked, pointing at the revivees for whom no friends or family had come.

  "We haven't been able to contact their relatives," Mike said, "and we're filling up in here. Can you find someplace for these people to stay until they can get home again?"

  "Sure," the man said. "We've got an extra room."

  The mood of the crowd completely changed. Those who had insisted it was all a trick were silenced, sometimes with fists.

  "Please," Mike said, "we still have nearly ten thousand people left to release. We need all the help we can get."

  "You'll get it," a young man with unfashionably long hair assured him. "We'll spread the word."

  "Can we get more guards?" Mike asked Lieutenant Wallace as they returned to the main part of the plant.

  "I'm afraid not," Wallace said. "In spite of Simon's instructions, these were all I could get."

  "We were lucky this time," Mike said. "The next time we don't have a relative out there, some fanatic could actually start shooting."

  "I know," Wallace said, "but there's nothing I can do. The police are totally occupied with stopping looting and other disturbances in the city. And most of the rest of the Guard is helping out with fires, ambulance calls, and the like.'"

  "We've got a call from Barbara on the Mother Ship," a rebel said, looking up from the communications equipment at the side of the plant. "We've got two shuttles coming down next time."

  "Hell," Mike said, "we can hardly keep up with what they're sending us now."

  "She said there's been a fault in one of the circuits up there," the rebel said. "They're going to have to start sending the suspendees down as fast as they can, before the retrieval equipment fails."

  "Damn," Mike said. He went over to where Martin was conferring with several technicians about how to speed up the revival process, and told him the news.

  "We're going to need more volunteers from the city," Martin said. "We can deprocess people pretty quickly, but we don't have any place to put them afterward." He looked hopefully over Mike's shoulder at Lieutenant Wallace.

  "I'll find somebody," Wallace said, and went back to the front of the building.

  The noise of the crowds was still coming from outside the back of the plant. It arose from people who hadn't witnessed the release of the revivees just moments ago. Suddenly the noise became louder and organized itself into a chant.

  "What the hell's going on now?" Mike asked as he went to the sliding double doors to take a look.

  Outside, approximately fifty people wearing red togas with gold head- and armbands were moving about in a kind of rhythmic dance. As they warmed to their chant, the words eventually became intelligible. "Un—pure—un—pure—the Earth—is ours—the devil—begone," they said over and over again.

  "Just what we needed," Mike snarled.

  The few Guardsmen who were there were unable to move (he demonstration back outside the fence. The two shuttles that had just been announced appeared in the sky and slowly settled toward the landing area. But the cultists, seeing the arrival, moved so that they were underneath the two craft and whenever one of the shuttles tried to find another place to land, ran there too, keeping them from settling down.

  The Guardsmen, fully aware of the urgency of the situation, stopped being gentle and started swinging rifle butts. The cultists responded with clubs of their own and shouts of "police brutality," "alien puppets," "death to the evil ones," until one of the shuttles fired a shot into the ground near the thickest of the fighting.

  The cultists, not prepared for real battle, fled with screams of hatred and threats of retribution. Their reception by the crowd outside the fence was not uniformly sympathetic.

  The shuttles landed, and with as many guards as he could muster, Lieutenant Wallace supervised the unloading of another sixty suspended humans

  The children of the rebels had been given one of the ship's larger lounges for their own playground. Victoria Cohen was supposedly supervising them in their play. In actuality, all she did was make sure that nobody hit anybody too hard, handed out cookies and beverages on demand, and made sure that they confined themselves to the loung
e and the adjacent compartments instead off escaping into the rest of the ship.

  Josh Brooks, Sean Donovan's friend from happier days in San Pedro, was not playing with the rest of the children. After all, he was fourteen now, and most of the others were considerably younger. Victoria felt sorry for him, and after a while she went over to sit down next to him.

  "Gets kind of dull after a while, doesn't it?" she said.

  "I guess so," Josh answered. He was tense, as if suppressing some kind of anxiety.

  "Can you tell me what's wrong?" Victoria asked. She was only twenty-two, and was not completely comfortable in her role as supervisor.

  "It's my parents, Miss Cohen," Josh said. "Mr. Donovan thinks they were brought aboard this ship when the Visitors raided San Pedro. Do you know if they've been found yet?"

  "I don't think so, Josh. Mike's down at the plant. He knows your parents and would tell us if they had been revived."

  "I keep wondering," Josh said. "Maybe they were put on another ship, one of those that got away."

  Victoria wanted to be reassuring, but she knew that Josh would sense any false hopes and condemn her for them.

  "I guess that's possible," she said. "But we're sending the suspendees down as quickly as we can, and they're reviving them as quickly as they can. It won't be much longer." She hesitated. "I guess it's the not knowing that's the worst part," she said.

  "Yeah," Josh said.

  "You shouldn't think about it. There's nothing you can do about it, and everybody else is doing the best they can."

  "I know. But that's not all. Sean's mother might be here too, and he doesn't seem to care." "Sean Donovan?"

  "Yes. He just sits in his room. He's not even here right now. He's not the way he used to be. I'm afraid my parents, even if they're here, might turn out the same way."

  "But your parents weren't converted, were they?" Victoria asked.

  "No, I don't think so."

  "Well then, when we find them, they should be just fine." But Josh's words had given her an idea.