Alien Caller

by Greg Curtis

  “Exile.” Cyrea was firm. “It is our harshest punishment. And in addition, he’s also been returned to normal strength and speed. The drugs have been permanently cleaned out of his system, all the added features like thickened skin and enhanced bone structure, have been removed, and the implants destroyed. When he is finally released in about a month, he’ll have only normal human abilities to survive on. Believe me, it won’t be easy, or pleasant for him.”

  “I don't care. It’s a mistake, letting him live. You have to kill him, while you have the chance. And this may be the only chance you have.” He tried to make his tone neutral, balanced, as if he was truly in control of himself, but he wasn’t particularly successful. If he was totally honest though, he knew some, maybe most of the reason for his anger wasn’t just hatred of a truly despicable individual; it was simple fear. For while Dimock lived, even if it was on the other side of the universe, he would always fear him. And with good reason. Dimock would be back. Cyrea saw that fear too.

  “We don’t murder people.”

  “He’s not people. He’s not human, and it’s not murder. It’s self-defence. Please let me kill him. Now, before he comes back to destroy you and us. He cannot be held by any prison known to man, and once he’s free he’ll only come back at you stronger and meaner than before.” Cyrea stared at him coolly, and he knew she was starting to assess him, to wonder whether her lover was a homicidal maniac. That was almost worse than he could bear and he wilted inside, but he still had to stop them in their insanity.

  “I’m sorry love. I’m not mad, I’m just scared. For you and for me. And I have the right to be.” Cyrea stared at him intently, and he knew she wasn’t happy with him. Rightfully earned or not, hatred was never something she would approve of, and he quickly decided he’d better change the topic again.

  “Cyrea, I’m sorry, but you don’t understand. I can’t help myself. I’ve known him too long, and seen what he’s done. I will always hate him. And fear him. But it’s your people who caught him for which I’m eternally grateful, and so it seems only fair you should decide what to do with him. I won’t argue with you. But I will plead. I will beg. Exile is far better than he deserves. It denies justice to his victims, many thousands maybe tens of thousands of them. And you have to understand, it’s dangerous. Very stupid and incredibly dangerous. Your people and mine are being placed at terrible risk. I don’t want you to have to live with the shame and guilt of having loosed a monster when he returns and wreaks havoc on your people. I live with that pain every day, and I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.”

  Cyrea continued to stare at him, studying him closely. She wasn’t happy, especially when he’d just called her people stupid, but she also knew he was telling the truth. Eventually something in her eyes gave in, and a trace of understanding returned to her face as she forgave him. He breathed in silent relief.

  “David, we know what he’s done. What he wanted to do. He told us a lot while the doctors were fixing him, and we put that together with the police reports. He is a bad man, and we’ve acted accordingly. You don’t ever have to fear him again.”

  “Yes I do, and so do you. So does every one of your people. Know him and fear him as nothing else. Please listen to me. I know this monster, and it has to be stopped, permanently. And you don’t truly know what he’s done, what he is. You only know a fraction of what he is. You can’t even begin to imagine the truth. He’s pure evil.”

  “He’s not going to ever return to Earth. And he’s never going to be so deadly again. You are safe. I promise you that. He’s going to be light years away from you, with no way back. And with no chance of release.” She was so calm and serious that he wanted desperately to believe her. But he couldn’t, and his disagreement would only make things worse. Instead he changed the topic.

  “I pray you’re right love. And I do love you very much. I need you to understand that. If I make - if I made mistakes, it was only because I was desperate to keep you safe. And so you would never find out about how bad some of us are. His very existence shames us all. He’s a blight on our souls.” He was rewarded with a slight softening in her expression, even a trace of a smile. But she was still very guarded, and he knew it would be a long time before she forgot his betrayal as she saw it.

  “I know.”

  “I owe your people another enormous debt for saving my life. And this time I guess it was pretty bad too.” Finally he saw a change in her features as she remembered his injuries. But it wasn’t the sympathy he’d hoped for as her anger returned.

  “Pretty bad? You lost half your blood in seconds as he practically cut your arm off! Through body armour at that! Then most of your intestines were literally shredded along with half your rib cage and your ankle was actually powdered. They had to clone several bones to replace the old ones with. They worked on you in teams for four solid days and even so it was close. What the hell made you think you had a prayer against him?!” It wasn’t a question, and lying not too far underneath was her anger as she remembered how close he had come to dying. Her anger at him, not Dimock, because he had chosen to fight alone. Because he had never stood a chance.

  “I know. I’m sorry. But I thought I had a chance. I really did. I’ve been preparing for years for this day. I always knew one day Dimock would escape, that he would come for me, and I planned for it. My house is a fortress and he’s the reason why. The gun posts, the gas, it should all have helped slow him down and given me a chance. Instead he seems to have gotten even faster and stronger. Yet a-bloody-gain. I must have hit him hundreds of times, with the most powerful guns known to man, and I barely even scratched him.”

  “So he was why you set up the gunposts?” She didn't seem happy by the thought, and maybe with reason. He quickly explained about the Ether D. Less than half way through however she started groaning quietly. Almost crying.

  “It was the only explanation, and we should have asked. I'm sorry.” Her words made no sense and so he asked. He shouldn’t have asked. When he did she told him that the party had found and removed the soporific gas years before, considering it a threat to themselves, and replaced it with plain air. They had never even considered the possibility that he might need it to defend himself against a psychopathic superman. The fixed guns too had been tampered with, most of their charges removed so they wouldn’t do much more than sting.

  “Ohh my God!” It was his turn to groan. Not only had they saved him, they’d crippled his defensive ability, and he’d never even realized. Some security officer. But there was a funny side to it.

  “So you undid my defences against Dimock to protect yourselves from me, when I was trying to save us all from him, and I sent you into hiding to protect you from Dimock, when you could have protected me. If this ever gets out it’ll make the military history books.” A wry smile lifted the corner of his mouth, and maybe the beginning of another started on Cyrea’s. Maybe.

  “They could make it into a film. The world’s greatest military blunders!” Cyrea wasn’t really laughing at his jest.

  “Or a ‘how to’ guide. How to seize defeat from the jaws of victory!”

  Finally he got a giggle out of her. Only a small one, but at least it was a start. He felt some of the tension draining out of her as she released her fear and anger. But there was still a lot left, and he knew he had a lot of work to do. Cyrea would not forgive him this mistake any time soon. Meanwhile there were more things he needed to find out.

  “Do you at least know what they did to him to make him so strong?” It was more than idle curiosity though he knew the basics. Dimock was still his enemy and still alive. Even if they did strip him of his strength David knew he’d only get it back sooner or later and a lot more besides, and then he would come after him again.

  “The doctors’ do, and they’re far from happy. They didn’t know this sort of technology had been developed on Earth, let alone used. It’s banned on our home world and every colony we have and by all of the other great races too.” The expr
ession on her face was one of anger and outrage, and he guessed there was a good reason for the ban.

  “It’s called genetic re-engineering; essentially they take a creature and introduce new active genes into it until it starts to develop new features. It’s not just dangerous, it’s damaging to a world and incredibly naive. A sure way of destroying a race. Other worlds have fallen into anarchy and death from this very nightmare. Many other worlds. Creating new creatures, often supermen, usually with no understanding of the consequences. Then those who live through the hell of becoming new creations, far from being a boon, turn out to be their creators’ worst nightmares. The creatures upset the ecological, social and military balance of the world. The supermen usually seize control. Then they start modifying themselves even further. The process is like a drug for them, and they usually end up killing everybody around them when they realize they’re dying.”

  “Those who don’t learn the lessons of history are destined to repeat them.” But he only whispered it. While it was somehow good to know that the Earth was not alone in following this nightmarish trail, the destination sounded even darker than he had imagined. Cyrea didn’t respond. She just carried on with her explanation.

  “It began with gene therapies, added to an adult living organism. It was designed to enhance Dimock’s muscle and bone structure and boost his reactions. But there was no control system put in place, and the genetic alterations kept growing like a cancer, dominating his body until he wasn’t really human.”

  “He was never human.” Cyrea ignored his comment as he no doubt deserved, but then she didn’t know the creature.

  “His bones were more than twice as thick and seventy percent denser than they should have been. Human muscles had been reworked into something like those of a gorilla or similar, but ninety percent of that muscle mass was white twitch fibres. His strength even before the drugs were added would have been at least twenty times that of a human being and his reaction speed faster still. But there was a cost to it. He was burning out. Literally. His resting body temperature was forty and a half degrees, which meant that his accelerated metabolism was cooking him from the inside out. Only the enhanced healing factors his blood carried kept him alive. Still he was dying by degrees. A few more years and he would have been dead.” It was just a pity he hadn’t died long before David thought, but he kept it to himself. He didn’t need to continue an argument he was going to lose.

  “Then there were the drugs, designed to take all that raw power and multiply it. A chemical cocktail which turned him into a walking pharmacy. The man had a set of implants designed only to do one thing; keep his drug levels topped up. Even so he couldn’t have lasted more than a week or so without a recharge.” Yet that was surely nothing new. David had known he was a drugged up hop head for years, and that he’d survived free for many years. So obviously he had found a way around it. He always found a way.

  “There were more implants lining his long bones and ribs, making them even tougher and more difficult to break. Flexible Kevlar plates had been placed under his skin, particularly around his chest and back. Then they apparently fused some sort of protective sheeting over his skin, making him effectively bullet proof. Even armour piercing bullets would have had a hard time getting through.”

  David nodded, saying nothing but accepting that she knew what she was talking about. Besides, it all made sense when he put it together with what he knew about Dimock and what he remembered of the fight. The only real question was why Dimock had survived the treatment when hundreds of others had died. Why him? How could the universe be that cruel? It was always the same question. But that was academic. There was something else he really needed to know first. Urgently.

  “Does Dimock know I’m alive?” It was an important question given that if Dimock knew he was alive, he would always come for him. Somehow, somewhere, some way. Dimock’s hatred was a palpable force that somehow seemed to rearrange the universe to do his bidding.

  “I can’t see how. He’s mostly been unconscious since we brought him in.” Which was everything David truly wanted to hear.

  “Then for pity’s sake let him think I’m dead.” Cyrea stared at him, understanding immediately where his thoughts were leading, and at the same time wondering why. From her perspective Dimock would never be able to harm him again, regardless of his state of mind. David was just being paranoid. But David, while knowing it sounded paranoid, knew Dimock too well to ever consider him safe.

  “The only way I’ll ever truly be safe from that monster is when he’s dead and buried. The same now is true for you and your people.” He answered her unspoken query, and saw the disappointment on her face. It hurt and he tried not to let the pain stop him saying what had to be said.

  “I’m sorry Cyrea, but it’s true. I hate and fear that bastard like nothing else. It’s ugly and primitive, and I’m not proud of it, but that’s the way I feel, and it’s never going to change. So if you won’t allow me to do the decent thing and kill him, then please at least do this for me.” He hated saying it even as he uttered the words. It made him look like some sick psycho in his lover’s arms, but it was the truth.

  “You’re serious?” Cyrea knew he was. She just didn’t want to accept it. That he could be so paranoid, so illogical. So full of hatred and fear. He nodded. He had to explain. National secret or not, he had to tell her. To make her understand why he feared him, and to protect them. They had to know what they had caught. If he didn’t, her people would have no way of defending themselves against him when his time came to return.

  “Deadly.” He took a deep breath. “You still don’t understand the monster you’ve caught, and you need to. He’s not just going to come for me next time. He knows about you now, and he hates you. Not just for what you’ve done to him, but because he hates everybody. More than that though, he wants to cause pain to everyone he can. All of your people are in danger.”

  “You have made yourselves an enemy you cannot even imagine.”

  “He’s not coming back.”

  “Yes he is. Can you record this? Broadcast it?” He ignored her certainty, knowing the truth, knowing his duty. It was the first time in his life he’d ever gone against his country and sworn service, and he felt sick inside at the thought. But it had to be done. She nodded and then punched some switches on the bedside table. Five seconds later he was sitting up in bed; wishing he’d been given some pyjamas instead of having to make do with a sheet around his waist, and speaking live to the whole ship and soon her world.

  “My friends, you’re making a terrible mistake if you let Dimock live. One that you probably can’t even begin to understand, yet. But one day you will, and I’m sorry for that. I just hope you survive it.” He took a few more breaths to steady his nerves.

  “I’m sorry. I owe you my life, again. And I don’t want you to be afraid. But you do have to know what it is that you’re dealing with, what you’ve unleashed on the universe. And let me kill it for you. Please.” He could imagine hundreds, perhaps thousands of Leinians gasping in horror at his words and it was all he could do not to cringe at the thought of their disgust at him.

  “I know that the very idea of such a thing horrifies you, and I’m sorry for that. But before you judge me, and before you do something stupid and free that psycho, hear me. And at least try to understand what it is that you’re freeing, and what he will do when he escapes. What he will do to you when he’s free, and that’s when not if. He will be back, and the cost of your mercy will be horrendous.”

  “Honey.” Cyrea stopped him before he could go on screeching like a mad man and perhaps she had a point. At least enough of one for him to catch his breath and think about what he needed to tell them. But he still needed to explain.

  “In any fair universe Dimock would never have been born. Many thousands, probably many tens of thousands of people, maybe even more are already dead at his hands, and if he lives, untold thousands or millions more will die. Your people as well as humans are now a
target now that he knows about you. I know that you think he’ll be safe. I know you think he’ll suffer and die alone on a miserable world in the middle of nowhere. But I know two things that you would never understand. Know them without any possibility of doubt.”

  “I know that wherever he is, if he’s not dead, sooner or later he’ll be back bringing death and suffering to others. And I know that if he knows I’m alive he’ll come for me. He’ll come for my family and friends, and anybody else he believes has wronged him and that’s you and your people. He’ll do things to us that you can’t even imagine. Things that you will be powerless to stop. Against him there is no real protection. Not while he lives.”