by Ben Hammott
Clinton shook his head in astonishment. It all seemed too fantastical to be true. “As I said, Richard, it's an incredible story. However, our problem is― even with these astounding photos― getting people to believe it. If you'd managed to get some physical evidence there would've been no problem and no limit to the amount you could have made from this fantastical tale.”
Richard smiled, slipped a hand into his inside jacket pocket and pulled something out. “Is this evidence enough?”
Clinton's bushy eyebrows almost disappeared over the top of his head at the sight of the tiny creature covered in green velvet fur cupped in Richard's hand. He moved in closer for a better look. It had two small horns on its head, a black nose and large eyes that currently stared at him. It looked more like a cuddly children's toy than an alien creature. He sorted through the photographs and selected the one of Haax holding Lucifer and compared the two. “Is this the same one, as it looks bigger in the photo?”
Richard shook his head. “Not exactly. The one in the photo is the creature that saved my life and which I rescued from the spaceship. This is its offspring, which I've temporarily named Little Lucifer. When I handed its mother back, if indeed there is a male and female of this species, I later found this one in my pocket, which was much smaller then. I believe this species might be asexual. I did some research and we have quite a few Earth life-forms with this ability, sometimes triggered during a decrease in its species resulting in a lack of males. But, of course, I could be totally wrong. What's important is that in my hand I have absolute evidence that alien life forms exist and have visited Earth. What I want you to do, Clinton, is market this alien, my photos and story― and me, of course― in a way that will make me millions before the government and scientists take Little Lucifer from me, as they surely will when they learn of its existence. I want a book deal. I want to sell the movie rights and I want anything else you can think of to wring money out of this. Can you do that, Clinton, or do I need to look elsewhere for someone who can?”
Clinton dragged his eyes away from the cute creature and looked at Richard. He smiled and held out his hand. “I assure you, Richard, I'll make you so much money you'll have trouble spending it.”
Richard shook the offered hand. “That's exactly what I wanted to hear.” He stroked Little Lucifer while Clinton pressed a button on the intercom and spoke to his secretary.
“Kim, cancel all my appointments for the next month…yes, you heard correctly, the whole month…I don't care, tell her to find someone else, and send Matt in, I need a contract drawn up.” He released the button and shared his greedy smile between Richard and the little alien. “You, Richard, have just become my most important client and, I believe, will soon prove to be my most profitable.”
Richard grinned. He tickled Little Lucifer under the chin. It purred in delight from the attention. “The kids are going to love you.”
Worried that the news of the spaceship story might leak out and ruin them of an exclusive deal, Clinton Smythe wasted no time selling the story to the highest bidder. Two days later, Richard's money-making machine was set in motion and news of what had been discovered in Antarctica swept around the world.
Jane sat up in bed when Jack entered with a breakfast tray. He placed it on a side table, picked up the newspaper and handed it to Jane. “You're not going to believe the headlines.”
Slightly bleary eyed, Jane looked at the front page. In large bold letters the headline read:
ALIEN SPACESHIP DISCOVERED IN ANTARCTICA
READ RICHARD WHORLEY'S INCREDIBLE EYEWITNESS TESTIMONY ON HOW HE BATTLED WITH ALIENS IN ANTARTICA TO SAVE HIS FRIENDS AND THE PLANET
Jane shook her head in dismay. “So much for keeping the story under wraps as we were directed. That man would make money out of misery if he could. ‘Battled with aliens to save his friends and the planet!’ I've a good mind to tell my version of what really happened.”
“What's the point? Richard's not my favorite person, but we all played our part. Let him have his five minutes. Now the genie's been let out of the bottle I'm sure your time will come if you want it. Also Theo, Scott and Pike will get to tell their story now.” Jack leaned forward and kissed her.
Jane placed the newspaper on the bedside table. “You're right. We have more important and pleasurable things to occupy our time.” She glanced at the tray. “How about you come to bed and help me work up an appetite for breakfast.”
“Your wish is my command.” Jack slipped into bed.
Second Incursion
THE SECOND TEAM―formed of six Americans and six British military personnel―ordered to board the vessel and secure the hangar, made their way through the ice tunnel. In the hope they would be better equipped to deal with the threat, Bravo Team had been briefed and shown the horrific footage of the Space Rats killing Alpha Team. When the twelve heavily armed men reached the end of the tunnel, Lieutenant James Miller, Bravo Team's commanding officer, halted the men. The lights fixed to the weapons held by those in the frontline swept the dark hangar for the killer vermin, but none were caught in the beams.
Lieutenant Miller turned to the two men beside him. “Light it up.”
Flares were struck and thrown into the room in all directions, lighting up the walls, ceiling and the shuttlecraft in their red glow.
Miller turned to Fitch. “Survey the room and let me know what you find.”
Fitch, armed with a new remote control, raised the drone from the top of the cargo ship and did a systematic sweep of the hangar. Paying particular attention to the shuttlecrafts, he searched their underneath, sides and tops for concealed Space Rats.
“It seems clear, Lieutenant,” declared Fitch, who was far from pleased at being ordered back aboard the alien infested vessel. Though the cuts on his leg had been attended to, they throbbed painfully, a constant reminder of his close encounter with the monsters.
Lieutenant Miller addressed the men, “You’ve all seen what we’re up against, so if you spot anything, don't hesitate to shoot it. Move slow and steady, spread out and move in a line clearing the room as we go. Check the floor, the walls, the ceiling and every object we encounter. We have no idea what other things are aboard this ship, but we can assume most are expert killers. If we are attacked, regroup and retaliate, making sure you focus on what’s coming up around you as well as in front.”
Every soldier was on edge when the Lieutenant led them aboard the spaceship. When they had first learned of what had occurred, all had found it hard to believe. Spaceships and alien monsters on Earth was something out of a science-fiction movie, not real life. However, the graphic footage of the alien monsters slaughtering their friends and comrades had left them with no doubts they were very real and extremely dangerous. And, if the scientists were to be believed, there were things aboard this vessel that made the Space Rats seem like cute and loveable kittens.
All felt a little relieved when they reached the far side of the hangar without encountering the Space Rats or any other alien creatures. Except for the dark stains on the floor, they had found no evidence of the slaughter that had recently occurred here― no corpses or bones. What they did find was the vicious vermin's point of entry―a hole near the ceiling caused when a support strut had been torn away, probably when the island-sized piece of ice toppled into the ocean. Two men were ordered to guard the hole and shoot anything that made an appearance while the others trained their weapons around the hangar.
Lieutenant Miller spoke into his helmet mic. “Bravo Team to Control, stage one completed. The hangar is secure. Repeat. The hangar is secure.”
In the control room, a rare smile formed on Admiral Thomson's lips as he stared at Lieutenant Miller's camera feed. “At last, things were going according to plan.” He turned to Norton. “Send in the engineers. I want two shuttlecrafts salvaged today and I won’t accept any excuses.”
“Yes sir.” Norton plucked a phone from the wall. “It's a go. Admiral Thomson wants the scout ship and a cargo vessel mo
ved to the ship today…Those are his orders and he won't accept any excuses. He wants results, so make it happen.” He hung up.
The Rear Admiral smiled at Norton. “Engineers giving you lip, were they?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle, sir.”
“In my experience engineers are lazy bastards. If you let them they'll take twenty-four hours to do a twelve-hour job. But not on my watch they won't. They fail to carry out my orders and I’ll have them hung for treason.”
“Err, I’m not sure you can do that, Admiral,” said Norton.
Thomson glared at the Corporal. “I’m the highest ranking officer on this ship and I’m acting on the direct orders of the President of the United States. I can do what I damn well please to complete the mission.”
“Yes, sir, of course you can, sir.”
Thomson pressed a button on the command console. “Lieutenant Miller, the scavenger team is on its way. Proceed to stage two.”
“Yes, Admiral. Confirm Bravo Team is proceeding to stage two.”
Lieutenant Miller led the team, minus the men guarding the rat hole and the two covering the rest of the hangar, over to the large airlock and peered through one of the transparent panels set in the doors. The door opposite was open and the light he aimed through the window picked out the shapes of the storage crates. He checked the men had spread out with their weapons trained on the door to tackle any surprises and then nodded at Wilcox, who had a hand poised over the door control.
Wilcox pressed the button. Nothing happened. He tried again with the same result. He shrugged at Miller. “Perhaps the power's off, Lieutenant?”
Miller cursed. “Damn! We'll have to cut through it. God knows how long that will take.” He was about to make his report to the Admiral, who would not greet the delay kindly, when the doors slid apart. He glanced around at the men. “Be prepared for anything.” As the doors opened, he noticed the reason for the delay; the doors opposite were now closed.
When they had checked the airlock was empty, the men stepped inside and Smith closed the hangar door. When it was fully closed the cargo door opened automatically. Flares were thrown across the room, bathing the area in their ethereal red light. Fitch sent the drone in and started surveying the room.
While they waited for Fitch to make his report, the others took a few cautious steps into the room and gazed around at the stacks of storage pods full of unimaginable alien objects.
When the drone had swept the cargo bay and no sign of the Space Rats or any other alien monsters had been detected, the men entered and began a cautious sweep to check for anything the drone might have missed. They had only gone a few steps when the air lock hissed shut behind them.
Miller turned his head and frowned at the closed door. It was their only source of retreat.
“It makes sense it would close automatically,” offered Cooper. “It’s an airlock.”
Miller nodded, but worried it would slow their retreat if they needed a fast exit; he gave one of the men an order, “Sawyer, remain by the door and be ready to open it if we need to make a hasty withdrawal.”
“Copy that, Lieutenant.” Sawyer took position by the door control.
Lit by the flares hellish glow, the men began their search of the maze of alleys between the container stacks.
On the far side of the room the door between the cargo hold and the insects’ domain opened. Mist seeped into the room and concealed within the fog the clatter of tiny claws followed.
Out of the Mist they came...
WHEN THEY REACHED the second block of storage containers, Lieutenant Miller halted the squad and stared at the thick ground-hugging mist emerging from the darkness and rolling towards them.
“That doesn’t look good,” stated Blake, his nervous gaze searching for anything that might be concealed within the mysterious fog.
Miller had already reached the same conclusion. “Fitch, scout it out.”
For a brief, terrifying moment, Fitch thought the Lieutenant meant physically― they had all read the scientists reports about the deadly insects that, in some ways, were more frightening than the larger and easier to shoot monsters― he recovered quickly and sent the drone flying forward a few feet above the mist. He concentrated on the small control screen as he directed the drone through the room. When it reached the far end his already nervous apprehension changed to dread. “The door’s open!”
“Why is that a problem?” asked Brody, anxiously.
Fitch stared at the man. “That's where the alien insects live.”
The clatter of tiny feet on the floor grew louder as a swarm of insects emerged from the mist's leading edge. Two men fired. Bullets tore into the tiny aliens and ricocheted off the floor. The rest of the men opened fire. Insect blood and body parts flew into the air, but they were too small for the weapons designed for larger prey to have much of an effect upon the thousands that surged towards them.
Egg-laden females peeled off from the pack and climbed onto the stacks of storage crates. One aimed her body at the men below and fired her better designed missiles. The eggs flew towards Blake and Reid. When they hatched in midair, the tiny offspring caught their first glimpse of the world they had been born into. They focused on their first prey and spun their circular rows of teeth like gruesome hole-borers. As soon as the tiny offspring landed on their chosen victims, they burrowed into flesh and tunneled through their bodies, devouring flesh, muscle, organs and bone.
The two men screamed and writhed in agony as their insides were devoured. Blake spun with his weapon still firing. His bullets cut through Reid’s head, mercifully ending his pain. The sweep of the weapon continued, peppering O'Toole's legs with bullets. When the well-fed infants exploded in an eruption of blood from the far side of Blake’s body, the weapon fell from his corpse and both fell to the floor.
With blood pouring from his leg wounds, O'Toole collapsed to the ground screaming. Oblivious to the pain they had caused, the gorged infants' eyes on yellow stalks picked out the new victims they sailed towards.
Lieutenant Miller glanced at the screaming men and the chaos that had suddenly erupted around him. He aimed at the female on top of the storage container firing small pale eggs into the air. A blast of bullets knocked it into oblivion. He glanced around at the crates. More egg-bearing insects moved into position. “Fall back,” he shouted.
Three infant insects landed on Wakoski when he went to help O'Toole. His weapon clattered to the floor as he grabbed at the pain, hoping to free the insects burrowing through his skin. One landed on his hand and burrowed straight through into his body. Wakoski held up the hand and peered through the ragged circular hole at the insects that leaped at him. Others ran up his legs until he was smothered with the vicious, biting creatures. He opened his mouth to scream, but before the sound escaped, an insect entered, bored through his tongue and clawed its way down his throat, muffling his agonized yell. A single shot rang out. Blackness replaced his pain.
Miller lowered the weapon as Wakoski collapsed to the floor. He rushed forward, aiming to grab O'Toole's arm and drag him to the exit, but had to dodge back to avoid the leaping insects. He batted them away with the rifle as he retreated. O'Toole screamed. Miller glanced at the wounded man. So many insects had swarmed over him it looked like a man formed out of insects. O'Toole's agonized screams accompanied his retreat.
The men fell back towards the exit as insects swarmed over their fallen comrades and began feeding. Predicting a fast withdrawal might be in the cards when the first gunshots rang out, Sawyer had opened the door. He was glad he had when he saw some of the men rush towards him followed by a wave of tiny death that flowed ever nearer. Fitch arrived first, nipped inside and maneuvered the drone so it floated near the ceiling. The surviving squad members rushed into the airlock. While the door closed, the men fired at the frontline of insects to prevent them from gaining entry. White pus-like blood spread across the floor and sprayed the air. The last man only stopped firing through the narrowing gap wh
en the door slid into its frame.
The men, their faces creased with shock and fear, panted heavily.
“I never signed up for this hell,” complained Brody.
“None of us did.” Lieutenant Miller glanced around at the men. Four had died: two American and two British.
Two insects appeared at the window in the door and looked at them. One reached out a claw and scratched at the glass.
Sullivan pressed the barrel of his weapon against the window level with the insect. “Don’t tempt me you little alien fucker.”
The men turned away when the hangar airlock door opened behind them.
“We need something to block this door so it can’t close,” said Miller. “If it does and the other one opens like last time, they’ll get into the air lock. If they get past this door they’ll be upon us again. Something I’m certain none of us wants to happen.”
Shocked to silence by that the horror they had all witnessed, everyone present in the control room stared at the gruesome images on the screens.
“Fuck!” cursed Admiral Thomson loudly.
*****
The Scavenger Team formed of NASA and military engineers and mechanics had been previously briefed with descriptions and rough sketches of the two types of shuttlecraft from the scientists. They had worked on the problem of how to transfer the shuttlecraft from the spaceship's hangar, through the ice tunnel and onto the container ship before they had set sail from New Zealand. Materials and the tools they thought they might need had been requested and loaded aboard. They had set up shop in the cavernous rear cargo hold, which proved ideal to construct the sleds they had designed. As the length between each leg of the spacecraft was unknown, it had been designed in separate parts that could be joined together aboard the spaceship.
When the Scavenger Team entered the hangar, they stared in awe at the impressive shuttlecraft. The scientists' descriptions hadn't done them justice.
