Alien Enigma

by Bain, Darrell; Teora, Tony

  "That, XO, is an understatement," Keane said.

  ***

  Rambling did as the executive officer asked and reported to Keane's cabin the next day. As requested, he brought Cindy along as well. Keane had also invited Dunaway to join them for the conference. After they had all settled, and after a brief 'Thank you for coming', Keane looked over toward Rambling. Both men were expecting the situation at Xanadu to be bad regardless of any new intelligence. They'd have to plan something really brilliant to get in and out of that hornet's nest with the human captives they knew were being held there. Each planet was getting tougher and tougher. Keane didn't like the idea that both the Worms and the robots were smarter and tougher at each planet. Or perhaps it was just the robots. Xanadu was the center, and the oldest. Its city would surely be complete.

  Keane kept the four together for an hour of discussions and brainstorming but the best they could come up with was simply to concentrate fire on the small master robots during any fighting.

  "I'm going to break out every heavy caliber rifle we brought along," Rambling said. "I don't know how many we have off hand, or how many of my troops can use them effectively, but they are the best weapon against robots in ground combat."

  "Will you want Cindy to stay in the ship again to call in air strikes if you need them?"

  "Definitely, Captain." He smiled grimly. "The assistance from the ship was a tremendous help and I'm sure it will be again."

  "All right. If there's anything else you think of before we arrive be sure and let me know, anytime at all."

  "Yes, sir. I certainly shall!"

  With the Doc Travis due to arrive in the Xanadu system within two days, Keane pondered the fate of the crew, the possible hostages, and how the alien culture might relate to Earth's. It was the people who counted on him that he cared about most deeply. That had always seemed to be embedded in his DNA, or so he kept telling himself. After the meeting had ended, he took an extra cup of coffee to his lounge and pondered the likely tough decisions that would lie ahead. He knew he could make them. It was one reason he was chosen for this mission, but it was a dark and largely thankless task. Everyone thought they wanted to be the captain-that is until they actually found out what the job was really like.

  Everyone wants to be something, he thought, usually something different than what they are. Keane knew there was some writer out there who wanted to be a Space Navy captain. Sometimes he thought he'd like to change places with that person. Although he loved his job, he dreamt as a kid that he'd write stories about the Universe. Now he'd discovered the actual Universe was wilder, crazier and more dangerous than anything he'd ever thought of writing about. Scientists consistently said that science fact was way stranger than any science fiction story. Maybe they were right, and maybe one day when he got back to Earth he'd retire and become a writer anyhow. Then again, maybe he'd be killed at Xanadu or on some other expedition. He strongly suspected the Doc Travis was already involved in the first interstellar war. Those thoughts rolled through his tired mind as he took his scheduled four shift of sleep. A shift that lately seemed to be regularly interrupted by one emergency or another.

  Chapter Nineteen: Horrid Remains

  I believe that the aliens are here primarily for their own purposes, one of which is to make sure that our brand of "friendship" is not visited upon other civilizations in the neighborhood. If we can't get our act together, they will keep us from leaving.

  -Stanton T. Friedman, Nuclear Physicist, Top Secret/ Majic

  Clemmie went into the Vivjo, an orange glowing building, for her 'test'. She thought it strange that she would be required to take some kind of test after all this time. She was terrified that she had been picked as one of the subjects who were led off and were never seen again. She let out a sigh of tremendous relief when she entered a room as directed and realized it was a medical facility. Some of her fellows had been to it for one reason or another and returned to tell about it. The fat brown Sinchik who'd escorted her pushed her toward a cold grey table.

  She sat down while a black furry Sinchik pressed a flat sticky device onto her stomach. It sent clicking sounds that changed tone as the alien adjusted dials. The Sinchik said something that loosely translated into 'fruit good'. Clemmie was horrified. She must be pregnant. I must kill it! She thought. There was no way she was going to allow a child be born on this god-forsaken planet. A tear ran down her cheek. She really didn't want to destroy a baby, but this would be a mercy killing if she could figure out a way to do it. She wished Doug was by her side, more than anything she'd wanted for a long time.

  The brown Sinchik looked over at Clemmie and said in a heavy tongued voice: "Human tears of joy, what a waste of body fluids. Go to Welshass and see Songorah."

  "Jah. I obey," Clemmie said, while wanting to choke the fat ugly Sinchik.

  ***

  Doug continued his walk back to his Wah, but since the rains had become ever more intense, he knew he had an excuse to delay his arrival. While being wet didn't particularly bother him, he knew the Worms didn't care for rain at all. They always stayed inside during downpours. The summer precipitation would sometimes undercut even the tough material used for the streets, and the one today looked like a real frog-strangler. He walked under any overhang when he could in order to shield himself from the downpour, but in the crazy-quilt pattern of structures of the Worm city that wasn't always possible. He knew they must have some rationale for how they arranged the city, but why and how a spire or a square or a dome was placed made no particular sense that he'd ever been able to figure out.

  However, now that he knew the city had an underlying warren of tunnels which, according to Clemmie, were extensive enough to practically make up another city beneath the surface, perhaps they were somehow tied together. He stopped at another overhang and shoved his hands down inside his pants and then pulled out the little pouch that held the map of the known tunnels Clemmie had given him. The knowledge of where they went didn't extend as far as his Wah, but now that he knew they were there he intended to try exploring in his area. All he had to do was find an entrance to the underground system. Which might be easier said than done. While humans were frequently sent on errands, the Worms or robots always seemed to know how long they should take. Today, though, presented an unusual opportunity, if he could find a way to take advantage of it.

  The map didn't help much. He sealed it back into the pouch and stuffed it back into his pocket. The persistent rain showed no signs of letting up any time soon. He decided to brave the downpour and hurry on back toward his Wah; at least now he could be alert for any signs of how the aliens descended underground. Probably the entrances were inside the buildings rather than outside, but one never knew. It became increasingly difficult to see where he was going as the downpour became even more intense. He walked on with his arm in front of his face, not only because it helped a little in keeping the rain out of his eyes but actually helped him to breathe!

  This really was one of the worst storms he'd ever seen. Or at least the heaviest rain. He stumbled over something and held out his arms. The next thing he knew he was submerged in rushing water with his body being battered back and forth against unseen obstacles. He held his breath, not knowing what had happened and trying desperately to orient himself. Just as he was reaching the limits of his endurance he saw a glimmer of light. He stroked for it with the last of his strength. His head broke into air and he gasped, again and again, renewing his strength but still not knowing where he was. He clung to an abutment, barely able to hang on against the force of the water cascading past him. There was enough light to see that the flood of water was choked with debris and that enabled him to figure out what must have happened.

  The hardest and most enduring downpour he had seen since being captured must have cut a section out of the side street he'd recognized through the pouring water. It had taken him for a ride, but at least a ride in the direction of his Wah. Now he had no idea where he was but he knew it couldn'
t be too far from home. The water, while swift, couldn't have carried him that far but he vaguely remembered a sensation of being washed down a slope. He must be underground in one of the tunnels Clemmie had told him about. Now the problem was getting back to his Wah before being missed.

  It suddenly occurred to him that this was a perfect opportunity to look around while trying to find his way out of the labyrinth and without being found some place where he shouldn't be. He was still holding on to the abutment, a projection of rounded metal projecting from the side of the tunnel. A few yards beyond was an open entrance. It was elevated enough that most of the water coursed on past. He eyed the distance then let go and stroked vigorously for the opening. His feet touched bottom as he did, making him realize he had been standing all the while. He really had been disoriented. He made it through the arched entrance. A ramp led upward in one direction and down in the other. Across from him was another arch. Mentally flipping a coin he turned left into the downward sloping path, hoping he wasn't letting himself into more trouble than he could get out of.

  The light grew brighter as he walked. Periodically other tunnels, all with flat floors and rounded walls and ceiling, crossed his path. Fearful of losing his way he continued straight ahead. There was light enough to see his thumb so he could time himself. He decided on no more than a half hour before starting back, figuring the flood might be abating by then. Ten more minutes of cautious walking without seeing either a Worm or robot made him decide to stop and think for a moment. After a moment he heard a faint noise. Tcht tcht tcht and then he had it. He was near, probably right beneath, the city's main defense against air or space attack. The noise was the sound of the daily test of the big laser cannon. He went a little farther to verify it. The noise grew louder. Abruptly he stopped. The tunnel he was in had come to a dead end. But surely it wouldn't end just like that?

  He looked around. The tunnel had been lighted all the way by the squares of reddish light, as had the side paths. He looked up. A light there was bisected, leaving only half of it showing. That must mean there was something on the other side. He checked his thumb again. There was little time left to explore and he was still wondering why he hadn't seen any moving thing on his journey, neither alien nor robot nor human. Then it came to him. They must all be busy with repairs to the streets or shoving partitions into place to divert rushing water and cleaning out buildings never designed for this kind of deluge. He might never have this chance again!

  He felt around on the wall beside him. It was all smooth metal. In front of him was more of the metal but surely there had to be a way past? He examined it closely and finally found a thin line, beginning at ground level on one side and rising to make a curve higher than his head before descending to the other side to the floor. It had to be a door, but how to open it? One of the robots would probably gain entrance electronically-but how about a Sinchik? How would they get in? He ran his hands around the seam but could find no projections, no indentations, nothing at all but the smooth metal and the faint line of the door.

  He backed off and closed his eyes, imagining a Sinchik approaching, its four front appendages free while the rest of them were used for locomotion. Sinchiks frequently used the front appendages to carry things, though. Suppose his imaginary Sinchik was loaded down, what would it do? Use its feet? Maybe. He got down on his hands and knees, still imagining a Sinchik being there. Where would its feet be located on the floor? Not right up against a wall, he thought. He backed away a meter or so and began examining the silvery metal. Nothing on one side of the floor. He moved and peered closely on the other side. And there it was, another line, not even quite as faint as the one indicating an entrance.

  He stood up and started to step on the spot, then hesitated. Dare he take the chance? Suppose there were Sinchiks or robots right on the other side? Well, he'd come this far. Deliberately he stepped on the demarcation. Nothing happened. Shit! No, wait. Sinchiks were heavier than humans, denser. He stamped his foot on the spot. Without a sound the door slid smoothly sideways into a recession. He looked beyond it and almost lost his last meal.

  Doug stood confused and horrified. He was staring into a large room. A dozen or so men and women were in there, along with a few children. They sat leaning against the wall or stood or lay haphazardly on the floor. Not one of them paid him any attention. A woman languidly gazed toward him, and she surely should have noticed him, but she merely blinked sluggishly and went on to stare blankly into the distance, perhaps at something beyond his perception. The occupants of the room were varied in age and appearance, although they all had long hair and the men all had beards. Both hair and beards had the appearance of having been raggedly hacked off when it grew so long as to be troublesome.

  There was one other thing they all had in common. Growing from the top of each one's head was a black receptor, similar to the ones the robots used for plugging certain types of small instruments into the city's electrical system. Against the far wall he detected a number of cables that ended with the part that plugged into receptors. He knew exactly what they were for. He shuddered. The sight made him ill. The captives were obviously being studied and experimented on to discover the basics of human thinking and behavior. Various portions of their brains were probably subjected to an endless series of graduated stimuli of different types. For what purpose he had no real idea but a horrible suspicion began growing in his mind, perhaps related to the declining population of Sinchiks, but most likely for a more sinister purpose. The breeding session with Clemmie took on a whole new meaning now.

  Abruptly he realized he should leave even though he would like to cross the room and study the apparatus arranged at a height convenient to the small robots. And he wondered just what might be on the other side of those cables. Nothing good, he knew, but there was no time left to investigate further. He needed to get back before he was missed and report this to the underground. The knowledge needed to be spread around so that if something happened to him, others would know. He turned around but his way out was blocked. The door had slid silently closed behind him while he had been staring at the horrid remains of what had once been normal human beings.

  Chapter Twenty: The Devil will get you for being Evil

  It is important to have an open mind, but not so open that your head whistles when the wind blows. Space Navy Strategy Handbook, 2051

  Bullet sat with Barbara in the Gymnasium, listening as Major Rambling spoke again of fallen comrades. Before, though, there had been a sense of rightness. The marines had died in combat on planets in battles that had been expected, and where casualties had been expected. This time the fighting had been unexpected, an abrupt brutal clash inside the ship. Nor had the deaths been randomly distributed like before. Like a black swath of doom, almost every single marine of the duty squad and backup duty squad died within minutes of each other, and the very few survivors were all wounded. He knew those few would feel lost even after returning to duty with their closest comrades, their friends and sometimes lovers gone forever. There would have to be some reorganization of the platoons now to even out the distribution of marines within the units. Perhaps even some transfers back and forth between companies.

  " ...will go on, just as marines always have," the Major said, as if reading his thoughts. "Our comrades fell doing their duty, serving their country, and protecting their ship and the rest of us. Not one of them turned away, not one failed to give that last full devotion to duty that we admire so much in our chosen profession. Let us remember ..."

  He felt Barbara squeezing his hand and glanced at her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks but she made no attempt to wipe them away. She sat straight and listened intently, seeming to draw strength from their commander's words, just as he was.

  " ...next fight may be an even sterner test but I know that I, and Captain Keane, indeed every person aboard Doc Travis, can count on you to ..."

  ***

  Now hear this! Zero gravity in thirty seconds! Attach yourself to a han
dhold, secure loose objects. Zero gravity in thirty seconds! Mark! Twenty nine, twenty eight ...

  The ceremony was ended. The bodies were being cast forth into space, there to spend eternity among the stars or perhaps to fall into the arms of a star after an endless time. It was a fitting resting place, Bullet thought, since they had died while in space.

  Neither he nor Barbara had been selected for the honor guard, those few marines in full dress uniform who stood duty at the air lock, but he could imagine it. He had stood in honor for another comrade who had died of wounds received during their first fight after they were back in space. Prayers for the dead would be said while the airlock was pumped full of air then the outer door unlocked by remote control. The remains would fly out on their unimaginably long final orbit among the stars of the galaxy.

  "I wish I could have been there," Barbara said quietly. "Jeremiah was a good friend. We went through boot camp together."

  "Yeah. I guess its part of the marines, though. We train, we fight, and some of us die."

  "Uh huh. And speaking of training, I'll bet the First Sergeant is going to work hell out of us the next couple of days."

  "Only two days?"

  "That's all that's left before we hit Xanadu, unless I lost one somewhere."

  Bullet counted days in his head. "Damn, you're right. Hell, I don't mind, though. Some good hard PT or sims of urban warfare will take our minds off the ones that got it."

  "That's the idea. And look for the simulations to be improved now that we know more about the Worms and robots. I bet they're going to be set up to give more emphasis on robots."

  "Won't that be fun? Wish we could do it together."

  "Huh! Didn't I tell you? No, I guess I forgot during all the confusion with the robots being loose and all. Top had me and the other snipers pull all the heavy caliber rifles on board out of the armory. We have enough extras for everyone who had the familiarization course in basic. And you're one of the select category."