Alien Deception

by Tony Ruggiero

  "You obviously have the resources to do something like this yourself," he said. "After all, you provided a ship impervious to the detection devices of the Council. Why pay me all this money? And why mess with the UCDW? They're a pretty powerful outfit."

  "What an intriguing question. Did you formulate it all by yourself or did someone write it down for you?" Carnis sneered.

  "I—"

  "That is none of your business, my friend."

  Ren thought he heard a laugh from within the shadowy hood. Was the guy drunk?

  "But since you ask…" The cloaked voice sounded calm and at ease. "…I will tell you. Please, sit down and have a drink."

  Ren hesitated. Carnis grabbed his beefy arm and easily forced his massive body into the chair; his forearm ached where he had been grabbed. He had never seen the move coming, it had happened that quickly. Carnis' hand was definitely humanoid, but hard as stone and without hair. It was also quite powerful, Ren thought as his bruised arm throbbed.

  Carnis waved to the waiter who quickly attended the table. "Two Careuben whiskeys." They sat at the table silently as they waited for the waiter to return. Ren suddenly and uncontrollably shook his head from side to side. It felt as if he were being jabbed by hundreds of tiny needles. By the time he raised his hand to rub his head, the sensation had passed.

  The drinks were brought and Carnis paid the waiter and downed his in the same motion. Ren did the same.

  "Ahhhh, that hit the spot."

  "Thanks for—"

  "Now, as to your question," Carnis began. "I am not ready to go near that planet yet. There is someone there who would've been able to tell if I had done what I have so handsomely paid you to do."

  "How would they know you would be there?" Ren asked as he saw this conversation going places he had no desire to be. He wanted desperately to leave, but couldn't make his body move.

  "However, I think that is all about to change. Yes, I think so."

  Silence.

  Again Ren felt the urge to leave. He almost felt like running just to get as far away from this cloaked figure as possible.

  "Well, whatever you're up to, you know how to reach me if you need something else done," he said, knowing he wanted nothing else to do with this creature that somehow managed to scare him in a way he did not like.

  "I think your services are no longer required." Carnis said and then resumed his silence.

  Ren took a last look at him and then headed off quickly toward his ship. As he walked, he felt extremely glad to be putting distance between himself and the creature. He looked over his shoulder once and saw Carnis still sitting in the same spot, the hood pointed in his direction, watching him.

  * * * *

  The being that called himself Carnis watched Ren depart. A low murmur rose from inside the shadow of his hood. It grew into a low laugh, one that was rooted well down in the evil depths of something insane and perverse. He withdrew a device from his pocket and depressed a button that shone green. There was a muffled wrump from the terminal. Then a voice screamed that someone had just blown up.

  Carnis shook his head and laughed as he re-pocketed the small device.

  "You were fun to play with, Ren. It's a shame we won't play together anymore. I was having so much fun manipulating you. Should you stay or should you go? Should you ask a question or not? Pins and needles are a real bitch, aren't they?"

  Then, raising his glass to his lips, he patiently waited for the last lonely drop of the alcohol to reach his tongue. At first the drop evaded him, but he shook the glass violently with his hand and eventually tasted satisfaction.

  First rule: if it's out of character for you to do something and you do it, then someone else is controlling you. You missed that one, you piece of Denarian shit.

  Finished, he placed the glass on the table. He stood, looking toward where the yelling had come from.

  Should've counted it, my friend. It's things like stupid ethics and silly codes of honor that get you killed. If you had, you would have seen the little surprise I had in there for you.

  * * * *

  Sarah and Edward met Leumas in the passageway on their way from the shuttle as they headed to Greg's quarters.

  "Leumas," Sarah said as she hugged him. "It's good to see you again."

  "It's better than good," Leumas replied with a smile. "Have you decided to marry me yet?"

  "Hmmm, I'm still thinking about it. Maybe in a hundred years or so or when your ego shrinks—whichever comes first. Check back with me then, okay?" She laughed.

  Leumas extended his hand to Edward. "Mr. President."

  “What’s with the Mr. President stuff?” Edward said as he clasped Leumas’ hand firmly. "Whatever happened to ‘Edward?’"

  "Excuse me—Edward. It's good to see you also. After they shook hands, Leumas handed Edward an envelope. “This just arrived for you.”

  “Thanks,” Edward began. “It’s—”

  "The Leader of the Council is waiting." Reveb interrupted, his tone conveying impatience.

  If they had not known Reveb, they may have found his interruption a bit brash. Instead, they exchanged quick smiles and continued down the passageway.

  At Greg's door, Reveb knocked, and then opened it. The three entered and Reveb closed the door behind them without a word. Greg was sitting in the chair near the window gazing out at the mountains. Either he was deep in thought or asleep, but he did not appear to realize they had entered.

  "Greg?" Sarah called, but there was no answer. "Greg?"

  His gaze slowly turned toward them, but it was as if he did not recognize who they were or that they were even there. The look scared Sarah and added to her concerns about Greg's behavior lately. Something was going on with him and she was determined to find out what. Then, slowly, recognition appeared in Greg's eyes and he rose to greet them.

  "Sarah," he said as he hugged her warmly, and then greeted Edward and Leumas.

  Sarah noticed the worn and disheveled look about him. He looked extremely tired, his eyes glazed and bloodshot. "Greg, are you okay? You don't look well." Sarah said, touching his elbow.

  "I haven't been sleeping well lately is all," he said quickly. He indicated the small conference table in his living room. "Please, everyone, have a seat."

  After they were seated, there was an uncomfortable silence for several seconds until Greg began.

  "Okay, we've got some problems. A quick summary before we move on will probably be the place to start. Leumas?"

  Leumas described what he had found on Beta-747 and about his suspicions that influencing may have been used. He told them he was still awaiting results from his computer on tests on the dead agent's body.

  Sarah then briefed them on what had happened at the news conference and that the preliminary results from the hospital indicated the body might, in fact, be an alien.

  Edward reviewed reports from his people at the hospital that included a photograph of the body. He slid it onto the table.

  Leumas grasped the photograph and felt his heart sink again.

  "That's one of the agents assigned to my team on Beta-747. That accounts for two of them. One is still missing."

  "Is this him?" Greg asked as he passed over a photograph of the body inside the box in the Council chambers.

  "Yes," Leumas said quietly, his voice filled with disgust. "That's the entire team."

  Silence again filled the room. Sarah saw the profound sympathy and frustration in Leumas’ eyes. She reached across the table and touched his hand briefly with a look that said she understood what he was feeling.

  "It would appear our position here has been compromised," Greg said. "Someone or something is out to discredit the UCDW and our role here on Earth."

  "But why?" Sarah wondered. "We're not inhabiting where we're not wanted. We offer help to those who need it. Who could possibly be against us?"

  "Perhaps someone on the Council is not in agreement with our progress?" the president suggested. "Have there been any o
utright objections?"

  "I can't think of anyone on the Council who has voiced any objections to what we're doing," Leumas said. "Unless some of Copolla's followers are still around and are trying to reinsert themselves by making us look bad and leaking the secret to the press or something."

  "My people have found nothing to support that," Greg said. "That's their only job: to keep on the lookout for any dissention that may jeopardize our position."

  "But are they looking in the right areas?" Edward asked. "Sometimes we're convinced what we look for is in one particular area and ignore the rest, thereby missing what we search for."

  "They have been staying mainly in the realm of the Council worlds," Greg admitted.

  "Maybe this threat is from a non-Council world," Edward suggested, just as Greg had the same thought.

  "Perhaps I have something that may shed light on this puzzle." Greg slid his hand into his pocket, removed a piece of bloodstained paper and unfolded it slowly. He placed the bloodied note he had retrieved from the dead body in the Council chambers on the conference table.

  Chapter Ten

  “What does deceit have in common with the Galaxy? It comes in many forms, as do the species which inhabit the Galaxy.”

  Leumas

  The tall, thin man entered the hospital and made his way to the locker room area conspicuously marked "hospital personnel only." His forged identification badge said he was an orderly named Robert Dickerson. But he wasn't. His name was Kerlov and he was a small-time alien thug hired to do a job. He had taken the ID from the real Robert Dickerson, whom he had killed a short while ago in the parking lot. He had chosen Dickerson because they were similar in appearance, as long as no one looked too closely.

  He easily walked past the few nurses and technicians on duty at this hour. Near the end of a shift and in early morning, they paid him only cursory glances. His employer had been correct. Security was minimal, with no bio or retinal scans. This was going to be easy money.

  Once inside the locker room, he acquired an orderly's uniform from an open locker and changed into it. He moved the forged ID badge to his scrubs. He retrieved the map he had been given of the facility and studied it. Satisfied he knew where to go, he stuffed the map into his pocket and left the locker room.

  As he walked, he smelled the archaic odors of the human healthcare facility. They were fraught with the miasma of death. He looked forward to getting this job done, collecting the other half of his money and returning to his own world.

  Turning into a corridor, he found three men sitting at a small table blocking any further progress. Obviously, they were the security personnel assigned to keep reporters and the curious away. They looked extremely uncomfortable and tired. Their suits were wrinkled, ties undone, and empty food containers and cups littered the area around them. Well-thumbed magazines were strewn across the table. His intelligence had confirmed they were working twelve-hour shifts around the clock. Arriving at the hour he did, ten hours into their shift, they would be less likely to question him. He presented his badge to the one who rose to meet him.

  "Long night, huh?" Kerlov asked.

  "Yeah," the security guard said as he looked at the badge.

  "I'm going to get some sodas from the machine. Can I get you any?"

  "Sure, that'd be nice of you."

  "No problem. I know how it is to work long hours."

  "Thanks." The security guard stepped aside allowing Kerlov to pass.

  "Be back in a jiffy."

  Kerlov entered the outer room that led to the morgue. It was a small office area with three work spaces, all of which were empty but one. There was only one person still there—the doctor who had tended to the alleged alien body case. He sat at a desk under a bright fluorescent light that made the mound of papers on his desk appear to be glossy white. On the wall was a series of x-rays displaying the body in question

  The doctor was talking to himself. "Remarkable organ structure. More advanced development in the ability to filter out harmful bacteria in the air. Wherever he's from, his world must have an atmosphere with many irritants in it…"

  He raised his gaze from the paper.

  "Yes, orderly, can I help you?" the doctor asked, irritated by the disruption to his work.

  "Yeah, Doc," Kerlov drawled. "I was told to come down and pick up some lab reports?"

  "Which ones?" The doctor was beginning to sound more perturbed.

  "How should I know?" Kerlov said, shrugging his shoulders.

  "Well, who sent you?" The doctor started to turn red.

  "Doctor Blake in administration."

  The doctor angrily turned away and placed his hand on the phone. Kerlov moved toward him and swung his arm in an arc, his fist coming down square on the man's head, knocking him unconscious and out of the chair.

  He moved toward the body on the table. Kerlov didn't look at it very closely. He didn't care who it was; besides, the guy was already dead. He removed a small device from his pocket and placed it on the corpse, then used his fingers to press the keypad. When he finished a green light glowed.

  Kerlov turned, took two steps and had to stop. It felt as if his body weighed a tremendous amount. He struggled against the immobility and felt it strengthen as the intensity of his effort against it increased.

  Double-crossed.

  He had heard rumors that the creature paying huge sums of money for jobs was insane—or maybe something even worse. There wasn't any proof, but some said those he hired were killed to avoid any link between himself and the crimes, but they were just rumors. Even so, the sum of money offered had stroked the flame of greed in many, including Kerlov. He had thought he could avoid any pitfalls after the job was done, but he had not anticipated anything would happen until then. Whoever his generous employer was, he was well connected. This type of device was not sold on any open market, even on Acuba. The only place Kerlov imagined something of this advanced technology could be had was from the UCDW.

  "May whatever God that watches over you rip off your head and spit down your neck, as he sends you to whatever Hell there is," he cursed his employer.

  The explosion ripped through the morgue, disintegrating everything in the entire wing. It ensured, however, that sufficient remains of the incendiary device would be left to be detected, even by the simplistic Terrans’ methods.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Sometimes we refuse to see with our eyes what our heart is telling us.”

  Greg Carlson

  Leumas picked up the note Greg laid on the table, trying to handle the piece of paper without touching the bloody areas. Finally, he gave up as he saw that the majority of the paper had absorbed the blood, its pinkish-red color seeming to flow within the fibers of the document.

  His eyes scanned what it said in a matter of seconds and then he read it again. After the third time, he placed it back in the center of the table. He felt his confusion flow over his face.

  "What does it mean?" he asked Greg as Sarah picked the bloody note up and began her perusal of it. Edward peered over her shoulder.

  "I'm…not sure," Greg said, shaking his head.

  "It's like a riddle," Sarah stated. She read the note aloud.

  "Before there was one.

  Then there were four.

  Now there are three.

  If the reunion is a warm one

  then all will be right.

  But if not—all will end.

  The one shall be as it was before."

  Leumas rose from the table and exhaled strongly. "A rather strange one, I might add. I'm not good at these little ditties, so I won't be much help."

  Edward picked up the note. "And this was attached to the body?"

  "Yes, in his hand." Greg said.

  "It doesn't even hint at why the agents were murdered," Leumas noted, "but it does mention the number three in it. There were three agents."

  "Nor does it seem to refer to the reporter's claims that were made today," Sarah added.

 
; Greg reached to take the note from Sarah. "I don't think that the ‘three' has anything to do with the agents. In fact, I think killing the three was just a way to get our attention and create a media nightmare." He paused. "Look at the results. Earth is running around wondering about the alien body revealed by the reporter. The Council has a dead body brought right into its midst and is crazily speculating in all different directions about what is going on."

  "Total chaos," Sarah said.

  Leumas began to pace. "But, again, the question is ‘why?' And if the note doesn't pertain to the agents or what else is happening, then what does it pertain to?"

  "I don't know," Greg admitted. "But I'd be willing to guess another message will be in our future. I don't think anyone would send something like this unless they were planning to draw the suspense out. Taunt us with these so-called clues, no matter how meaningless we may think they are. Until we figure something out from this, we need to settle the brush fires that have already been set."

  He rubbed his eyes, red from exhaustion.

  Sarah looked at him, concerned. "You need some rest."

  "I know."

  Sarah thought perhaps his fatigue was the reason their mental link had been broken. She wanted to talk to him alone, away from the others. She thought she could suggest a break or something and was about to when the president's secure communication laptop indicated an incoming priority message.

  Edward keyed in his code and read the message. As he read, his eyes and facial expression reflected it was not good news.

  "Not good," Edward said unnecessarily as he typed in his response.

  "What is it?" Leumas asked.

  Edward looked up from the computer. "The body of the agent that was in the morgue?"

  "Yes?"

  "It's been destroyed. Some type of explosion blew up the morgue and half of the hospital wing. Destroyed all the evidence that had been gathered, killed the security guards, a doctor and possibly an orderly. They have no idea what kind of device was used or how it was brought into the facility. The blast zone is something they've never seen before."