Alien Deception

by Tony Ruggiero

  "Just information, Carlotta," Leumas responded as he moved away from the electrifying contact, though not because it had caused him any physical discomfort.

  "What kind of information?" She didn't appear to be slighted in the least by his reaction. She was probably used to people and their moods and adjusted quickly to their needs. He was clearly not in the market for pleasure, but something else.

  "Is anything unusual going on here lately?"

  "Now, that's a great question!" She laughed. "When is there not anything unusual going on around here?" She placed her hand under her chin and posed as if in contemplation. "Let's see. Yesterday we had only two murders. That's unusual. Normally we average four per day at least. I've seen it get as high as ten if we're really crowded. Then there was the joker who refused to pay my friend for her—"

  Leumas frowned and quickly interrupted her. "Okay, Carlotta, I get your point. How about a strange ship or someone bragging about destroying another vessel? More specifically, an Arcturian vessel?"

  Her disposition changed slightly after he asked the specific question. She stared at him with those yellow eyes as if appraising if it was safe to say anything to him.

  "I might remember something… But I can't just seem to…"

  Leumas placed another twenty-five-credit chip in her hand.

  "Okay, now I remember. There was someone in here just last night talking about that. He was bragging how he did it right under the Council's nose. Big guy in this long cloak with a hood."

  "Do you know who he is or where he's staying?" Leumas asked with renewed interest.

  "I don't ask any questions. But he did mention he was staying at the old Acuba Hotel, out the door, two sectors to the right. Can't miss it."

  "Thanks, Carlotta," Leumas said and at once was moving out the door without even giving the female another glance.

  * * * *

  Carlotta watched as Leumas departed hastily. After a few moments, she regained control of herself and shook her head as if to clear the haze from it. Glancing down at her tray, she noticed the two twenty-five-credit chips. She tried to remember where it had come from, but could only recall someone asking something. She just couldn't quite remember what it was. She pocketed the coins, then suddenly rubbed her temples. She winced at the pain of the headache beginning to throb unmercifully as she headed for the med dispenser.

  As Carlotta gulped the tablets, the second part of the delayed mind push went into effect. She walked over to the Simosa Night Walker, right past the warning sign that stated any interference with this creature would result in death, and grabbed at one of the weapons in its many hands. The creature showed no mercy in its many eyes as it casually pointed the weapon and killed her. The smell of burnt hair and flesh mingled with the other obnoxious smells of the Social Club.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “If it looks dangerous…it probably is.”

  Leumas

  As Leumas walked in the direction the waitress had indicated, he sensed he was being followed. Wanting to dispel or confirm this feeling, he made casual stops along the way to peer into shop windows like an interested shopper. He glanced to his left and right and saw only other potential customers who also appeared nervous by their actions and their response to the surroundings

  He passed a weapons dealer whose special was a stunning device no larger than a man's index finger. He didn't need to pretend interest as he listened to the weapons dealer boast about the effectiveness and accuracy of the device. He tried again to see if he could spot his shadow. He saw nothing and moved along, receiving a disgruntled look from the disappointed arms dealer.

  Maybe I am just imagining this, he said to himself trying to lay his fears aside, but he still kept one of his hands inside his coat pocket next to the stun weapon he had brought with him. It was sad; his trust and confidence now lay with an indiscriminate weapon in his pocket against something he could not see, but only sense.

  He found it odd such a place as this existed in the era of galactic cooperation the Council had brought to the majority of worlds. The UCDW would not—or could not would be a better assessment—intervene in the affairs of a planet as developed as this one. Its organization and stability, as nonexistent as they were, was based on the illegal trade and commerce conducted here. There was virtually no government to run the planet, just an overseer of affairs who was paid by numerous criminal organizations. It was known as one of the last strongholds for those who preferred to reside outside the law of civility and peaceful coexistence.

  But on a bright note, it was good to know the majority of criminals and black market trade was concentrated in one area instead of scattered among hundreds of planets. As far as the general clientele of the planet, many came here to make their fortunes in the illegal markets that always seem to exist. Some came, made their fortunes and left; others came and failed, either remaining because there was nowhere else to go or killed by their own ambitions that drove them here.

  Leumas reached his destination. The Hotel Acuba was a large structure of thirty floors. Its architecture would be considered old by most planet standards, in that it was a square box and ascended upwards. It did not have any fanciful curves or similar displays of newer construction. It appeared well-kept given the shabby condition of the surrounding shops he had passed. They even had their own security force that was quite conspicuous at the front entrance, probably to relay the message they would not tolerate problems and that they could handle them quite efficiently and quietly.

  Glancing back one last time, he entered the facility and approached the front desk. He knew the proprietor was probably not going to be willing to point him in any direction that would reflect negatively on the establishment's reputation for secrecy and animosity. But Leumas was ready to coax them along, if necessary, by applying influence if the situation warranted it. The Council expressly forbade it, but every once in a while rules needed to be broken for the better good. He doubted he would have any problem convincing the Council of that if the need should arise.

  "Excuse me," he said to the multi-limbed Dracarian desk clerk. If it had possessed more hair, it would have resembled a spider. Leumas shuddered at his own thought.

  "May I help you?" the alien inquired in a friendly demeanor as it took a long look at Leumas as if categorizing him for future use.

  "Yes, I am looking for—"

  "I don't know," the alien responded before Leumas could even finish the sentence.

  "I haven't even told you what I am looking for."

  "If you wanted a room, you would've asked for a room. Since you did not begin the question that way, I'll assume you're looking for something else. In that case, I will not know your answer. Good day, sir." The clerk turned his back.

  It appeared this desk clerk had much experience in this type of encounter; further discussion would probably bring the security force and result in a less-than-polite removal of Leumas from the premises.

  Leumas was quite surprised how swiftly he had been reduced to a nonentity. Not that he had expected anything less in a place like this, but this left him with no other choice. He focused his thoughts and directed them at his unwilling friend.

  ::I'm looking for someone who may have been involved with an attack on a spacecraft, an Arcturian vessel. I have reason to believe they may be staying here. Have you heard anyone speaking of the event or have you heard any rumors as to whom it might be?::

  Leumas repeated the questions over and over in his mind and pushed his thoughts onto the desk clerk. The desk clerk appeared to be mesmerized by the mind influence momentarily, but after a matter of seconds he moved toward the computer screen and punched a few keys. A small printout appeared from a slot in the top of the counter. Leumas took the paper which held a name and a room number.

  ::Thank you for your assistance. Now, why don't you have a seat and take a little rest, and don't forget to wish me to have a nice day,:: Leumas pushed to the clerk's mind.

  "Have a nice day," the clerk
said as he sat down in the chair and closed his eyes. Leumas chuckled and had to admit his almost-spider friend had redeemed his earlier rudeness.

  Leumas headed for the lift in the lobby. He pressed the call button and stood back a few steps to look around as he waited. He couldn't shake the feeling someone was watching him. The adjoining lift, for employee use only, opened and security personnel carrying what appeared to be a body exited and headed down a corridor toward what Leumas assumed was the rear entrance. The indicator of the lift reflected the last stop point was the thirteenth floor. He glanced at the piece of paper the clerk had given him, then shook his head as he confirmed that he was going to pay a call on someone named Carnis on the thirteenth floor.

  "It's just a coincidence," he murmured as the lift doors opened for him. "Just a coincidence."

  Chapter Twenty

  “How do you know when something has changed—you compare your memories to what you now see. But when you lose that perspective, you can no longer tell what is real and what is not.”

  Greg Carlson

  Greg awoke slowly as the morning sun was making its appearance in his room. He stretched, slid out from under the covers, and immediately noticed that he felt different this morning. He was rested and actually felt very refreshed. He walked into his kitchen and turned on the coffeepot. He headed to the shower and languished in the warm water for several minutes as his mind emptied the sleep from it.

  He thought about Leumas and Acuba. Obviously, he would have been awakened if there had been any communication from him. It was early to be alarmed but, all the same, he was still concerned. He would check with the communications center later anyway. He also needed to follow up with Sarah about the press conference. He liked the thought of talking with Sarah again and it warmed him. Lastly, there were always the mysterious poems to look at and try to interpret. As he stepped from the shower and toweled himself off, he began to think about the evening's…dream?

  Was it really a dream or was it something else. Was it real? Had some life form that would teach him how to…see, which he did not understand…actually contacted him?

  But that life form didn't explain exactly what he was supposed to be seeing. It all was extremely vague? Vague? There was something in that term that struck a chord he should remember, but didn't. It was probably a dream, he thought, trying to convince himself. But the planets he had seen or thought about had seemed so real he had felt as if he had actually been on them. There must be a common link somehow, somewhere in all of the craziness that was happening.

  Greg poured the coffee and fixed it with cream and sugar. He decided to cherish the early morning solitude as he took the coffee and sat in his chair looking out over his favorite view of the mountains. During sunrise, they looked their most dramatic and the view was intoxicating.

  I wonder if the view is as good from the other end?

  His thoughts were abstract as his gaze remained fixated on the mountains. No sooner had he finished the thought than he felt his perspective of the view slowly begin to change. He was suddenly outside the building, looking back at his body sitting in the chair holding a cup of coffee in his right hand. He stared at himself rather dumbfounded. Then he began moving across the landscape at a height of several hundred feet, he guessed, and heading away from where the UCDW was housed and toward the mountaintops. He was momentarily nauseous, but it passed quickly as he marveled at what was happening. His body was not traveling, but his consciousness was.

  He felt no temperature change and there was no feel of wind in his face from acceleration. The feeling was just like it had been in the dream, he thought, as I moved from planet to planet!

  After a few startling seconds, Greg wished he would stop and he did. His thoughts were commanding his locomotion. It left him hovering between the UCDW and the mountain. He looked back over the distance he had traveled. From here, he could barely see the facility and wondered how fast he had traveled in those few seconds.

  I should go back now.

  As before, within a split second of the thought, he was heading back to his room. He saw his body sitting in the chair, and in a blink of an eye, he was back in the room, sitting in the chair and looking out of the window just as he had been less then a minute ago. The cup of coffee was still in his hand, steam rising from the top, and he felt its warmth.

  Did I do that? I thought about it and it happened. No dream, no imagination. I was there on the mountaintop, well over a hundred miles away and in a matter of seconds!

  ::Yes, you did,:: the now-familiar voice answered. ::That was your first cognizant use of the abilities I've been helping you with. You did well for a first attempt, even though you were slow in your movement.::

  ::Then, it is real? All of it? Our meeting last night, and this trip? It's real?:: Greg asked.

  ::Yes, it is. But you have much to do yet if you are to master the abilities you need.::

  ::Will we ever meet in a physical state? Do you have one?:: Greg somehow felt it important that they should.

  ::I can assume one if necessary. But for now, it is better for us to keep our contact on a mental level.::

  ::As you wish, Vague,:: Greg agreed, remembering at last that was what he had decided to name this alien.

  ::Precious time is wasting,:: his visitor said impatiently. ::Let us begin our next lesson. We shall go on a trip together today, but you must move yourself. I will not help you unless I really must. Do you understand?::

  ::Yes, I believe so. Where are we going?::

  ::A short trip around this solar system.::

  ::The solar system,:: Greg said incredulously. ::I can't possibly–::

  ::Yes, you can,:: Vague contradicted him sharply. ::You can do it and you must.::

  ::What if I can't?::

  ::There will be no more talk of it. If you think failure, then you will die!::

  * * * *

  "Where the hell does he get this stuff from?" Sarah said as she and Edward left the platform and headed backstage.

  She was trying to control her voice and demeanor in front of the entourage of assistants and advisors milling about. Her legs still felt weak and she was grateful for his hold on her elbow as he guided her along to the Oval Office.

  She was not a weak or timid person by any means, but this reporter had a way of asking the most pointed questions. And, she had to admit, she had been caught off-guard and had not expected this new tack he had taken, bringing Greg and their mysterious life/death experiences out in the open.

  Edward maintained a casual look of impassivity as he quickly told his advisors he would meet with them shortly to discuss this new assertion after he spoke with Sarah for a few moments. He did not appear overly concerned, even though inside she knew he was steaming.

  "He's really starting to piss me off," he snapped once he and Sarah had some privacy. "Every time we think we have things under control, he brings up another obstacle for us to jump over. We had this licked until he started making it personal with you and Greg. I'm getting real tired of performing for his private amusement."

  "What're we going to do now?' Sarah asked.

  "He's thrown down the gauntlet. We can ignore it or we can face it. Apparently, he has the information on Greg, so it's only a matter of time before others start to look for him now that his name is out in the open. You can bet the phone lines are buzzing for any background information they can find on him, and what they have in their files about what happened to you both. They'll have a circus with that one."

  "Just more sensationalism." Sarah sighed. "But it's what people love to hear, mystery around controversy. They'll not rest now until we address these latest allegations."

  "Notice how his attack has changed? He's moved from alien conspiracy to you. He's centered his attention on you and Greg."

  "He couldn't go any further on the alien issue because there was nothing hard he could use against us."

  "No, there's more to it than that. I can feel it. There's no pattern. It's like rand
omness running amok."

  "Maybe he's just confused or something."

  "Exactly," Edward said. "It's the way a confused or possibly unstable person might approach something. Moving from object to object with no explanation or rationale for doing so."

  "Is that a polite way to say a crazy person?" Sarah asked sarcastically.

  "Yes, it could be, now that you mention it," Edward replied.

  "So you think he's crazy? I have no doubts in my own mind about that!"

  "I don't know, but either he or whoever is feeding him this information might be. I've checked up on our friend, and in all honesty, he's just not smart enough to put it all together by himself or to be in the right spot every single time, as he has been lately." Edward breathed an exhausted sigh. "It has to be the contacts he's using, but we haven't been able to learn anything from his usual ones."

  "That has us back to square one again. Trying to figure who's behind all this. They have us going crazy on several fronts all at once. This is a very effective war they're waging."

  "Well, there isn't anything more we can do about this issue right now. I've got some other things to take care of. Why don't you brief Greg and see what he thinks. And find out if he has heard from Leumas yet. We'll get together later and see what we can come up with for a course of action."

  "Good enough," Sarah said as she squeezed his arm affectionately and headed to her office. Once inside, she exhaled strongly and plopped heavily into her leather chair. She was exhausted and frustrated over the past couple of days' events, not to mention she was still very concerned about Greg. Her intercom sounded, interrupting her thoughts.

  "Ms. McClendon, I have several calls from the press and—"

  "Just tell them ‘no comment,' Mrs. Jones, and hold all calls for the next hour," she said and clicked off before her secretary could edge in another word.