The Expanding Universe 4: Space Adventure, Alien Contact, & Military Science Fiction (Science Fiction Anthology)

by Craig Martelle

  “Well?” she said when the helmet and visor lifted off John’s head. “What happened? Did you see anything?”

  “Did I see anything?” John jumped out of the chair the second he was free from the peripherals. “I saw them!”

  “You saw them?”

  “I saw the aliens, and I was one of them!”

  Hammer grabbed John by the shoulders to steady him. “Calm down, John. Just start at the beginning. What are you talking about?”

  John recounted his experience in detail, the shining walls of the corridor, the ashen pallor of the alien’s skin, everything.

  “I’ve got to say,” Hammer said, “as far as intel goes, this is crap. We don’t know anything. Do you even know how it happened?”

  John looked down at his hands. “I can’t say for sure, but I think it might have been a virtual reality. Maybe my reflection was a preprogrammed avatar—like every user has the same reflection.”

  “And how do you feel?” Maxwell asked.

  John looked up from his hands. “How do I feel? I feel fine, maybe a little shook up.”

  “I’ll have Denning take a look at you,” Hammer said, “and then you’re going back in.”

  “What? Right now?”

  Hammer nodded. “Right now. And this time, I want better intel. Try to communicate. Figure out what they want.”

  Denning gave John a superficial physical, Morales suggested variations on non-verbal means of communication, and Maxwell asked John to pay close attention to how they used their technology. Twenty minutes later, John was once again facing down the pilot’s chair. Before he climbed in, Morales gave another suggestion.

  “Try drawing pictures of our constellations. It might help if they know where we are from,” she said.

  “I’ll give that a try,” John said. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and took his seat in the chair.

  The peripherals descended, the vortex appeared as before, and John slipped through.

  There was no alien cubicle this time.

  John was outside in brilliant daylight. He looked up and saw that he was under a cloudless, aquamarine sky. He saw a massive tracked vehicle on a hill in the distance. It resembled a tank.

  Something landed in the dirt far off to his right. Seconds later, an explosion sent John sprawling. He had the wind knocked out of him, and the blast battered him with rocks and dirt.

  John rolled onto his back and looked up into the blue-green sky. He was wearing a bulky spacesuit that made it difficult to stand up, and he was holding something. The instrument in his hand was a long cylinder flared out on the end he was holding. The entire length of the cylinder was close to the length of his arm. Inside the cylinder was a handle with flexible toggles at his fingertips.

  Another three explosions nearby snapped John to attention. He was sitting on the edge of a storm. Aliens wearing the same bulky suits were fighting a desperate battle with grotesque, feral creatures. The creatures moved on four legs with terrifying speed, and they had whip-like tendrils on their torsos that they used to grapple the aliens.

  One of the four-legged creatures grabbed an alien and hoisted it in the air. The alien struggled but soon succumbed to the constricting tendrils. The creature crushed the alien’s body and dropped it unceremoniously to the ground. Then it turned its sights on John.

  The beast bore down, and John tried to fight back. He swung the cylinder and thrashed helplessly as the beast grappled him and hoisted him upside-down by his ankles. John’s salvation came when he thought everything was at an end.

  One of the aliens amid the battle saw John in the clutches of the creature and took aim. A beam of fierce energy passed right by John’s head and knocked the creature to the ground. When John fell, he landed head first. Thankfully, the bulky suit absorbed the fall.

  Despite the knock to his head, John was up in a flash. He aimed at one of the creatures and moved his fingers on the toggles as if he were using a pistol. The weapon refused to fire. Instead, the length of the weapon electrified with blue arcing light.

  The creature in John’s sights advanced and was ready to pounce when the weapon finally went off. The first shot missed, but John made sure the next one hit home.

  John looked toward the alien who had saved him. There was a horde of creatures swarming it, and it was unable to use the weapon to shoot the creatures at such close range. It activated the blue arcing light and used the weapon like a sword.

  The weapon cut clean through one creature; bits of its insides erupted in bright flashes when the weapon sliced through—like metal in a microwave. One of the creatures was down, but the alien soldier was soon overwhelmed.

  John shot into the horde until only two remained. The two remaining creatures turned on him so quickly that he couldn’t get off another shot. He duplicated the same grip he used before, and the sword of light hummed to life.

  Despite the bulky suit, John found that he could outmaneuver the creatures. He was somehow much faster than the aliens he fought beside. As a new swarm came over the crest, John picked up a weapon from a fallen soldier. While the others shot into the swarm, John waded in, alternating between shooting and slashing.

  When the last of the swarm was lying in pieces, John yelled across the field at the other soldiers. “I’m human!”

  The aliens did not respond.

  “I don’t suppose I could draw you some of my constellations…so you know where I’m from?”

  The sounds out of John’s mouth were a little garbled, but not as much as before with the cubicle aliens. The sound of his own language surprised him.

  The aliens did not understand, and John knew it. He also knew that there was a battle to be fought.

  John raced out of the depression to the top of a ridge with the alien soldiers following close behind. Upon gaining the ridge, he could see that the battlefield stretched to the edge of the horizon.

  John saw some small buildings in the distance. He saw a group of alien fighters break into one of the buildings and shortly after emerge escorting three unarmed aliens. It seemed they were evacuating civilians.

  So, that was it. The tendril creatures were the invading force, and this was the aliens’ home. John felt relieved he wasn’t fighting for an invading force.

  John urged the aliens to join his advance. Half an hour and three small skirmishes later, they arrived at the buildings. John burst into one of the dwellings. The interior was dim. It was lit by what looked like a gas lamp. There was very little technology. Rather, the technology inside the dwelling felt antiquated. The inhabitants were living a simple, Spartan life.

  The inhabitants rushed out to be escorted, but the fates were not kind to them. John came back out of the dwelling in time to see a different creature attacking the aliens.

  This creature had the same general shape as the quadrupeds, except it walked upright and carried a weapon. It was also twice the size and twice as menacing. The alien fighters rallied and rushed the new bipedal foe. Despite their bravery, they were tossed aside one after the other.

  John fired his weapons, aiming carefully to avoid hitting one of the aliens by mistake. He rushed the creature and cut away at its tendrils. The loss of limbs stunned the beast, and the remaining alien fighters rejoined the fight.

  With the beast stunned and the others helping, John went for its legs. He toppled the beast and didn’t stop attacking until he was sure it wouldn’t get back up. The aliens seemed in awe of John’s brutality—a revelation that didn’t exactly sit well with John.

  If they want me as an ally, I don’t want them to think I’m psychotic, John thought.

  “Don’t be afraid,” John said to the aliens.

  The aliens responded, but it was still in a language John did not understand.

  And then he did—or at least, he thought he did.

  A massive horde of the quadrupedal creatures descended on them just as John thought he was making sense of the alien language. John felt the pain of death, and everything faded to a
drifting purgatory where John existed as smoke.

  ***

  John heard the voices of the expeditionary crew, and he fought madly to get out of the chair.

  Denning caught John before he fell to the floor.

  “These experiences must be intense,” Denning said.

  “You could say that,” John said, breathing heavily.

  “Keep tabs on your mental strain. We’re in uncharted waters. There’s no telling what kinds of stresses your mind is dealing with.”

  “It’s not mental strain I’m worried about, Doc. I’m physically exhausted. I was running through a battlefield for hours.”

  “Battlefield?” Hammer echoed.

  “Hours!” Denning exclaimed. “How is that possible? You were sitting in the chair for a minute at most.”

  “I’m okay,” John said, “but I need some rest. I’ll give a full report after I clear my head.”

  John returned to the shuttle, and Maxwell followed.

  “I’m curious,” Maxwell said to John. “I’d like to know how these experiences are being transmitted to you in such a short amount of time.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that,” John said. “Does that matter?”

  “It makes all the difference,” she said. “These experiences could be recordings stored in the ship’s computer. If that’s the case, the technology could be some form of advanced virtual reality. If it’s your consciousness that’s transmitted into a mind somewhere else in the universe, then we’re talking about a kind of technology we might not be able to understand. These aliens can travel between the stars. We haven’t even left our solar system yet. The rest of their technology might as well be magic as far as we’re concerned.”

  “From what I’ve seen, they’re not much different from us.”

  ***

  John gave his report then returned to the chair. He was nervous. He sat uncomfortably with thoughts of what might come—but the spike rolled through him. He had to go back in.

  The peripherals descended, and John slipped through.

  John awoke in his own body.

  Earth?

  Is this Earth? John thought. Am I in my own body?

  John wandered through an unfamiliar neighborhood. A passerby confirmed for him that he was on Earth, but the day was five years in the past—a day John was certain he was on Mars, not Earth.

  John thought he had to be dreaming when he found Dr. Maxwell. She was walking down a bustling street lined with shops. She took his arm and walked with him. She mentioned that he was acting a bit strangely.

  Maxwell said they needed milk, so they stopped at a small convenience store. John paused to confirm his reflection was his own in the shop window.

  John picked up a magazine near the entrance. All the words in the magazine were in the alien language. When John looked up from the magazine, he already knew that the human clerk had been replaced by an alien. The alien was holding out a smoking vial for John to take.

  “I don’t want it,” John said. “I want answers.”

  A lump rose in John’s throat when he heard that he was speaking in the alien tongue. Maxwell stood next to John at the counter with her milk. She didn’t appear fazed by the alien or by John speaking the alien language. She reached out, took John’s hand, and told him he shouldn’t worry.

  “You can let go,” she said.

  ***

  The ethereal smoke cleared. John awoke in the chair and was sure of only one thing: he would keep Maxwell’s presence in this latest trip a secret. Hammer would surely shut down the operation if he knew.

  John reported that the experience was in the past and reaffirmed that he was definitely not on Earth five years ago. Maxwell was convinced—given the relatively small amount of time John spent in the chair—that the experiences were recordings or at least a very sophisticated conversation his brain was having with the alien computer.

  “Doctor Morales,” John said, “I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that I didn’t get the opportunity to draw any constellations.”

  “And the good news?”

  “I am your Rosetta Stone.”

  “You mean?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. I can read the alien language. Don’t ask me how, but you see all those displays behind you? I can understand them perfectly.”

  John and Dr. Morales went over each display panel. Each new alien word John saw was instantly understood. Within a few hours, they had a rudimentary understanding of how every system in the room worked. The minute they were finished, Hammer pulled John away and took him back to the shuttle.

  ***

  Hammer did not look pleased. “Are they gathering information on humans?”

  “Uncertain,” John replied, leaning against the wall of the airlock.

  “Have they said why they are here?”

  “They haven’t said much of anything. They don’t appear to be watching me—neither are they terribly interested in what I’m doing. It’s almost like they don’t know I’m there at first. I occupy an alien body, and the aliens are only interested when I interact with them. I’ll tell you this, though: I don’t agree with Maxwell that these are just conversations with an alien computer. It all feels too real.”

  Hammer nodded. “What about this last one?” he asked. “You said it was a day in the past and that you weren’t even on Earth at the time.”

  “Even that felt real—like a dream but somehow tangible. I have to go back. I need to see this through.”

  John immediately regretted his eagerness.

  Hammer shook his head. “I think we have enough. You can speak their language, and we’ll soon be able to operate their technology. Any further contact with the spike and you might be compromised. We already know the aliens are warlike.”

  “They were fighting an invader.”

  “Are you sympathizing with them? What aren’t you telling me, John? I should have put a stop to this after they made you fight in a battle for them. These aliens are obviously messing with your head.”

  “I don’t think so, Colonel. What’s the harm with going in one more time?”

  “There! You see? They have you. You’re not thinking clearly. And what about this body you inhabited in the past? You say it was you, but you weren’t on Earth that day. So, if it couldn’t have been you, then who was it? Was there someone on Earth pretending to be you? What if the aliens have a double of you somewhere down there? What if you aren’t the only one who’s been duplicated?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “I’ve made up my mind. You’re not to have any more contact with this ship. This ship is a Trojan horse. Who knows what it’s going to do after we leave.”

  “You’re going to destroy it.”

  “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “No, sir. No problem at all.”

  “No more contact with this ship. Understand?”

  “Loud and clear, Colonel.”

  “Wait here,” Hammer said. “I’m going to retrieve the others.”

  ***

  It was easy enough for John to hide in the maze of corridors and close the airlock when the expeditionary team returned to the shuttle. When John uncoupled the two ships, he imagined Hammer was furious.

  John wasted no time getting back to the control room. He felt the spike rush into him like drawing a breath of ice cold air. The peripherals closed around him, and he slipped through once again.

  When John opened his eyes, he was still sitting in the chair. The virtual cyberscape diminished, and the helmet lifted off his head to reveal that he was still in the control room. The star map was slowly spinning directly ahead of him, and Earth was sitting at the center of the image.

  John heard movement behind him. Did Hammer manage to get back on the ship?

  John got up from the chair and instantly realized he was in another alien body. The sounds he heard were other aliens in the control room.

  “I don’t belong here!” John shouted to the aliens in
their language.

  The aliens didn’t acknowledge John at first, so John spoke again. “My name is John. I’m a human.”

  One of the aliens finally approached him.

  “Again. My name is John. I’m a human. I’m on the ship you sent to Earth. We’re going to destroy that ship. I’m in the chair right now. This isn’t me.”

  The alien spoke. Its voice was slow and rhythmic. “That hasn’t happened yet,” it said.

  “What? It hasn’t happened yet? I don’t understand.”

  There was a sudden thud, and the ship lurched. An alarm blared in the control room. Rapid pinging noises emanated from the bulkheads, and the aliens rushed frantically to their stations—all except the one who had talked to John. That alien led John back to the chair and sat him down again.

  “You shall see,” it said.

  The peripherals descended, and John saw everything. He saw the GISEC salvage platform firing on them. He saw that they were about to crash. He saw North America getting closer. He saw the West Coast and the Rocky Mountains go by, and then he saw Medicine Hat.

  They were dead. The body John inhabited was dead, yet John’s consciousness remained in the ship’s computer.

  Days later, John saw his old Marine unit enter the control room. He watched as they died. He saw the young John McCormack. Young John stumbled and fell against the chair. He swung himself into the chair and sat down in the ash of the dead alien pilot’s body.

  John watched his younger body slowly fade away.

  That’s not how this is supposed to happen, he thought. I didn’t die.

  The peripherals descended on young John’s body, and John’s future consciousness migrated. The young John stood up, alive and well.

  Was it always like this? John wondered. Did I really die before?

  John’s future consciousness soon discovered that this experience would be different from the others. He was nothing more than an observer.

  John watched for months from behind his younger eyes. He was unable to do or say anything to change his past. He watched his life after the crash unfold just as it did before—the investigation, the poking and prodding by doctors, the same questions day after day until, finally, he broke free.