Then the fireball rocket smashed into the alien, impaling it on several molten hot rock spires. The Controller howled again, and as Mars turned to watch the fireball continue upwards, this time with the Sel alien as an unwilling passenger, it slowly resumed its hideous shape, twitching and struggling to free itself. The fireball disappeared into the low clouds forming overhead, the muffled cries of the Controller disappearing amidst the growling wind of the distant tornado gaining force on higher land.
Mars realized that he had scotched one snake, but another one remained alive and deadly. The storm above. He lunged for the one vine and began to crawl. He reached the top of the cliff in less than a minute. Only to see a vision out of yet another nightmare loom half a mile away.
The tornado was mountainous. Fire and lightning shot out of the funnel itself and the sky around it churned with a jet black vapor that seemed to radiate death. The tug and pull from the winds generated so far barely allowed Mars to remain standing and not holding onto something for support.
He turned to run. Somewhere, beyond the last bluff where he had his initial standoff with the Controller, Anna and Barry were hopefully safe with Sally ... and inside the alien spacecraft.
Something thundered out of the sky directly behind him. A flash of light and then a high whine. He looked up, and saw the flaming meteor that the volcano had ejected soar through the clouds, the old rule of whatever must go up, sooner or later must come down.
The fireball streaked out of the sky and smashed into the pummeled earth. Wind and howling gails ripped at his body, but John Mars was transfixed where he stood. What he saw rise before him defied believability, defied every rule of nature in this universe or any other.
The Controller-Anna thing should have been dead. Torn half apart, geysering alien life juice, it now assembled itself like some weird, malleable gumby doll charred beyond recognition. A sound like a croak came out of its mouth; most of the fangs were broken into jagged slice of bone. Its eyes burned a dreadful green and the look it gave Mars was one that left little doubt for interpretation. Fury -- pure, raw, savage and unmistakable glared through the green pits.
Not going well, this day, not going well at all.
Mars felt his blood turn to icewater in his veins. The Controller moved toward Mars, hobbled really, but still with enough speed to alarm Mars to the singular fact that he would still have little chance of survival against the thing, even in its current, half-demolished state.
I’ll have to outrun it, he thought. My only chance. And in truth, a piss poor one at that.
The alien had now resumed its former height of just under nine feet. It’s skeleton poked through melted flesh and scales, and Mars suspected the thing was in agony. Yet, still it moved. Trundled, really, limping, dragging … yet doing all of these with a purposeful sense of mobility, fueled by its clear peevishness with Mars.
The human is clever, resourceful. We have underestimated it. A mistake. Duly noted.
The Controller would not underestimate the earth man again.
Mars backed up slowly, and with that one step, he knew he faced not one, but two very real enemies. The cyclone was only half a mile off now, and already it was pulling at him with a force he would soon be unable to resist.
He turned and began to run.
The alien moved as well. Suddenly, two wiry tentacles shot out from the decimated alien’s chest cavity and wrapped themselves around John Mars’ left ankle. Mars, thirty feet from the alien, went down hard, his head smashing into a rock; the world spun around him painfully, and the danger of black-out was great, but Mars willed himself to remain conscious.
He was being dragged backward. At first, he thought it was the tornado’s suck, now bearing down at frightening speed. But as he rolled over, sliding on his back, he saw that the alien had grabbed hold of him with the spindly tentacles.
Desperately, he looked around for something to hold on to, or even better, to sever the tentacles with. Nothing appeared. One dead, yet sturdy tree remained, and Mars was dragged over it. His hand lashed out, and found a solid purchase. He grabbed onto one of the surface roots, fighting at the same time to free his one captured leg.
The Controller suddenly realized it had problems of its own. It was now beginning to feel the titanic effects of the gale force winds from the tornado. Now less than five hundred yards away, the alien had a duel objective: fight for its own survival in its present form, and if possible, kill John Mars, preferably simultaneously.
Mars was losing his grip on the root. And as he glanced at the alien, he could see that it, too, was losing its precarious position against the suck of the cyclone approaching. Mars closed his eyes, preparing for oblivion.
The stinger seemed to come out of nowhere, but when it landed, it impaled the one of the alien tentacles. Mars looked up and could see Sally stabbing at the tentacle repeatedly with its tail stinger. The melted Controller howled in renewed agony, trying to fight its way forward to attack its tormentor. But the tornado’s pull was greater.
“Good girl!” Mars screamed out, and hearing his own voice stoked needed adrenalin into his system.
With one final, desperate thrust, Sally jammed its stinger into the other tentacle, twisting and turning it for added effect. The doomed Controller screamed once more. A surge of renewed, momentary power and anger shot through Mars like a dagger and he gave a powerful kick with his right leg.
“Go fuck yourself, prick!”
The force of impact from Mars’ kick caused the Controller to release its hold on Mars’ other ankle -- in time to be sucked into the gyrating hell of the tornado, now only a football field away.
Mars could never have fought against the winds himself, but with the assistance of Sally’s considerable strength, both alien and man were able to move sluggishly away from the storm. They were assisted by a random quirk of fate; the tornado shifted wind direction, only momentarily, but enough to allow Mars and his companion to gain further momentum in their escape.
“Where are the others?” Mars screamed over the unholy shriek of wind.
“Ship, safe,” Sally responded with typical curtness.
The tornado suddenly shifted again, and Sally could see that alone, by foot, the man would be doomed. She unceremoniously picked him up and began to jog on powerful hind quarters. Mars didn’t argue, and could see her reasoning immediately. The tornado was bearing down on them directly; if they were going to escape its horrible determination, it would be only with the Sel’s almost preternatural power.
Mars turned and saw the Sel ship a hundred yards ahead. Anna and Barry were screaming at him, hanging onto the hatch entrance; he could not hear them, but he knew what they were saying.
Hurry. Hurry, please. Just a little further --
He wanted to yell back: Get into the ship, take off, forget about us. But he knew Anna and the boy would never hear them. At that moment, Sally increased her running speed. Incredibly, they were at the saucer hatch within seconds. Mars was dumped on his feet, and he hit the ground running, ushering Anna and Barry inside.
“Go!” he yelled.
Sally was ahead of him, dragging him forward, like a protective mother rudely shoving her young to safety from a savage danger.
Mars was inside now, along with Anna and Barry. The tornado, again, shifted direction, buying a little more time. But now Mars was familiar with the cyclonic behavior; he knew that in another minute, the tornado would again shift direction and this time smash into the saucer with the disproportionate force of a hammer hitting a grape.
Sally remained outside. Staring at the tornado.
“Get in, Sally!” he yelled.
She turned back and stared at him with large, yellow, alien and indecipherable eyes: “This -- my home. I stay.”
Mars was thunderstruck: “If they find you – they’ll kill you.”
Sally replied. “Perhaps.”
“We need you,” Anna yelled into the roar of wind. “They’re going to invade Earth.”
>
Sally was genuinely puzzled.
“But -- I am -- the enemy.”
John Mars reached out and touched the huge alien’s right claw. “No. You are our friend.”
Sally repeated the word. “Friend.”
Barry stepped forward, reaching for her other claw. “Please, don’t leave us.”
She regarded Barry with a neutral expression -- the only expression Sally had ever offered. Then she glanced back at the tornado, which had shifted again. Like a raging bull, it was churning up dust and rock, plowing directly for the Sel saucer.
“We go,” Sally said at last.
They entered the ship and the hatch automatically slammed shut.
Sally practically flew across the main control room, assuming a familiar position before the drive panel. Her claws reached out and moved quickly, hitting buttons and activating switches.
Mars grabbed Anna and Barry both.
“Hold on to something, anything,” he said.
The humans had barely grabbed onto a stanchion when the saucer sprang upward, and drove them flat to the floor. Barry screamed in pain; John and Anna reached out to him for comfort. They were used to sudden acceleration and g-forces from liftoff. They knew the discomfort would pass in seconds.
The saucer rocketed through heavy cloudcover and streaked into deep space. The journey back to Earth had begun.
Earth.
Only an eternity away.
Of course, the Controller was far from dead.
That part of its essence that it had used to become corporeal was destroyed. But its vast Mind, its indestructible soul, if you would, simply commuted itself effortlessly back to the Collective Mind, preserving still its individuality.
The human known as Mars - the Bringer of War to the Controller’s world - had escaped. It would attempt to return home.
The Controller was not displeased.
John Mars had won the right to live. He had won this particular battle.
The Controller surveyed the Sel Armada, even now preparing for invasion of the new galaxy, home to Earth, the planet of origin for John Mars.
There were other battles to be fought.
The Controller realized one day, it would face Mars again.
Until that day, it would wait.
Wait …
NINE
HOME STRETCH
Silence.
The incessant roar and scream of the recent storm, coupled with the remembered screams of friends and fellow survivors -- for John Mars, the silence was a blessing. In space, silence could drive men insane; but today, now, in this instance, it was silence that preserved sanity, that helped to heal.
He opened his eyes. And remembered where he was, where he had been. To his right, Sally stared into the blackness of uncharted space. Behind him, Anna and Barry were talking among themselves, near the cryo-chambers -- glass coffins that would allow the human inhabitants of the Sel ship to sleep for the eight month duration of the voyage back home.
Mars stood and stretched. Pain tweaked every muscle, every joint, but even with the pain, he smiled inwardly: he was alive. He had survived. Survival meant hope -- hope to save his world one day.
“You sure I gotta do this?” he heard Barry ask Anna.
Anna glanced at Mars as he came up behind the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. “Eight months with nothing to do, you’d be crawling the walls. We sleep. And that’s an order.”
Barry frowned, but it was followed by an obedient nod.
“Hey, kid,” Mars said.
Barry looked up.
“Looks like you’re the youngest astronaut in history. Congratulations!”
Barry’s grin was from ear to ear. “Cool.”
Mars extended his hand and Barry took it, shaking it slowly.
“In you go,” Mars said.
Barry stepped into the cryo-unit. A second later, and the unit glowed with a warm yellow light. Barry was asleep, a smile on his face.
Anna turned to Mars and reached for his hand. She then leaned in and kissed him. Slowly. Her eyes never closing.
“What are we going to find when we get home?”
Mars sighed, then turned to look back at the Sel known only to them as Sally, piloting their ship. He could only guess what her alien thoughts were at this moment; she was as alone as they -- thrust into the void of interstellar space, subject to a perilous journey across the unimaginable vastness between galaxies.
“I think we’ll find invaders,” Mars said softly. “The Sels can move faster than we can. They’ll be there before us.”
He leaned in and kissed her this time. “By the way, I love you. If it matters.”
She smiled back at him and in that smile, Mars recognized sadness. “I love you, too. And it matters. Whatever happens.”
He then opened her cryo-chamber and put her to sleep.
Sally turned to him a moment later. He walked over to her, and stared out at the stars. He pulled out a cigarette and glanced at the alien.
“Got a light?”
Sally considered the cigarette then twitched her stinger suddenly. The stinger struck metal and the end burned hot. Mars couldn’t help but grin. He leaned in and ignited the cigarette.
He took a long, slow drag and then offered it to the alien. She leaned forward, and took it in her mouth. Puffed. Choked. Then puffed again. This time, like an expert.
“Will they come after us?” Mars asked.
Sally seemed to take time with her answer. “No. More important things to do.”
Mars smoked in silence, exhaustion filling his entire being. Was that it? He had been brought half-way across the known universe, to be hunted, tortured, to have his people murdered … only to be set free, with impunity by the Sel Collective?
Impossible to believe.
There had to be a catch.
Of course, the Sel known as Sally was aware of Mars’ thoughts. It knew something else, too … a tragic piece of knowledge that she had only one way to address … but this would have to be done after Mars and his people were deep in cryo-sleep. Not now. It would be perceived as … invasive.
Mars was tired. He lacked the energy to ponder the issue of their relatively simple escape from the Sel world.
He would do so more in earnest after he woke up.
Once he was back in his home galaxy.
Once he had been able to rest …
He turned to Sally, his eyes growing more lazy.
“By the way, what is your name, Sally? Your real name,” Mars asked.
Sally considered the question in earnest. Then said: “You -- could not pronounce it.”
Mars smiled. Sally turned back to the stars and continued smoking.
In eight months, we’ll be back on Earth. Ravers said that the Sels were already taking over. That means the main invasion force will finish up the job. When we return -- there may be very few people left to fight the war that must be fought. Still, the human spirit has never given in easily. Where there is a will to be free -- we will find it.
And in the end -- we will win.
John Mars, final log. I dream of sleep.
A sleep without dreams.
A sleep of peace.
And so John Mars slept. As did Anna, and Barry. The cryogenically induced sleep of the dead.
Only the Sally remained awake … as only a Sel could. Her lifespan was several hundred thousand years, and she could allow her mind-essence to rest; in fact, she would have to let it rest, sooner or later, lest she succumb to the madness of Time.
Something had gone wrong … and she alone knew that this spaceship would never reach the Milky Way.
Well, not for another hundred years or so. Mars and his people had been told eight months by Ravers. In truth, if the damage from lift-off had not been so great, this could have been achieved.
Sally had kept the knowledge to herself. She had recognized that Mars and the others were driven by a human thing called Hope. To have been informed that they would die in the i
nterstellar gulf between star clusters – victims of simple astromechanics gone wrong – would have delivered a fatal blow to this precious human thing known as Hope.
Sally would have no part of it.
She would put them to sleep, first … then ponder the problem in earnest.
There was only one solution.
She now moved away from the bridge viewports and approached the cryotubes. She punched several switches on Mars’ sleep-container. The automated plating that covered the human man slid away, without sound.
Sally then aimed her stinger strategically for the base of John Mars’ skull. She detected penetration and entry into the brain stem.
This would be the only way, no matter how invasive.
This would be his only chance, as well as for the others.
When they would awaken, a hundred years would have passed.
John Mars and the others would initially believe it had been only eight months – the full time capacity of the cryotubes.
The aging process began to arrest itself within the body of John Mars.
Then, it began to reverse.
She wanted to somehow communicate to John Mars and the others what needed to be done. That in order to allow them all to survive – their physiology would have to be forcibly altered. Rendering them all … immortal. She knew that the human condition anticipated Death as certainty. Embraced it, even, as a kind of axiomatic rule-of-thumb for existence.
Would they be resentful? She wondered.
Would they feel cheated, having been robbed of certain death somewhere down the line.
So many questions.
Sally could hardly wait to see their reactions.
But Sally, like all Sels, was good at waiting.
Waiting…
Mars, The Bringer Of War Page 22
