“Thank you Julie for listening to me ramble. I’m sorry if I was a burden,” she said to her new friend.
“Sweetheart, don’t you dare be sorry,” replied Julie. They hugged one last time. “You sure you know what you’re going to do?”
“It’s my only option I think.”
“Okay, just be careful. Please.”
“I will. Thanks again.” With a faint smile she turned away and began the long walk to the elevator that would take her to the bridge.
Her plan was simple: convince the captain to turn around. How to accomplish that was a whole other matter. She tried to sound confident in front of Julie, but really she had no idea how she was going to gain his attention. She thought about playing the boyfriend card, and would if she had to, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She cared about the lives of Percy and all the others on board The Hawking so she didn't want to appear to be the desperate girlfriend upset because her boyfriend was going to fight a war. She understood that no matter what happened, Liam would do what he always did—whatever it took to keep people safe and alive.
She rounded a corner to the elevator bay and unsurprisingly found it guarded by a man in an officer’s uniform. Have confidence, Ann, she thought to herself. Chin up.
“Hi, my name is Ann Caldwell. I need to speak to the captain, please.”
She extended her hand out to shake his, but the man made no motion to repeat the gesture.
“Please.” She lowered her hand back down, but the man only returned an expressionless stare. She wasn’t sure what to do next. She expected resistance of course, but not a stonewall. This was too important to give up easily. She stepped a few inches closer and returned his stare. She’d stand like this all day if she had to.
“Ma’am, the captain is busy. I need you to return to your quarters.” The officer broke first. One point for her.
“I know he’s busy. I have important information for the captain.”
“Whatever information you have, you can give to me. I will personally tell the captain.”
“No. I think I should tell him personally.”
“What did you say you do here on the ship?”
“I’m—I’m a botanist.” She took in the guard’s confused expression.
“I apologize ma’am, but what kind of vital information would a botanist have for the captain?”
She was perplexed. She sensed her window closing and quickly tried to come up with a satisfactory answer that might have a small chance of allowing her up to see the captain. Every detail of the STS and the alien ships raced past her thoughts at a blurring speed. She saw one that may work—her best hope—fly by and she grabbed it.
“I’ve been researching what powers the alien’s engines. I think they’re using a biofuel chemical reaction as their propellant. It’s something I think we can mimic quite easily on this ship with the plants on board.”
She held her breath awaiting his next move. While it was true they were clueless how the alien’s ships were propelled, she wasn’t sure how high of a priority this would be. Apparently, not very high.
“That would be very excellent news indeed, Ms. Caldwell. I will gladly tell the captain to contact you once we’re out of this dire situation. Escaping Earth is his top priority.”
“Please, I’d love to tell him myself.” She cursed herself for what she was about to say. “He might be more interested to speak with me if he knew that I am Liam Donovan’s girlfriend.”
The officer took a moment to process this new bit of information and using his best judgement decided that it still failed to warrant immediate attention.
“Ma’am, I told you I will relay your information to the captain. I would expect to hear back no later than tomorrow.”
She realized she wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. Her best lie failed and she didn’t actually want to talk to the captain about biofuel propellant that she knew nothing about so she lied once more.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send him an email through the ship-net.”
Before he could respond she turned and walked away. She was powerless to plead with the captain. Powerless to help Liam. Powerless to do anything at all. She began her long walk back to her room.
Debra Sizemore, along with five pilots, waited for Liam in the docking bay. The space was one of the largest areas on the ship with five Z56 crafts calling the bay home. Liam and the pilots shared a salute as he walked into the bay.
“What can we do for you, Mr. Donovan?” Debra asked.
“I’m sure you’re aware of our friend waiting outside.”
“We are. Jameson told us to be on standby. Are you here to relay a plan?”
Taking the chance given to him, he answered in the affirmative. He hoped she wouldn’t double check with the captain. He laid out his idea.
“Can you help me?” he asked.
“Yes, sir!” they all answered in their own variations, though Debra seemed skeptical.
“Let’s invite our friend inside, shall we?”
The five pilots took their positions behind Z56 ships, each armed with a handgun.
He followed Debra to a computer panel on the rear wall to open Bay Door 3, which was where the alien craft hovered behind. The docking bay featured several doors so all the Z56s and Z48s wouldn’t have to exit through the same door.
On the panel he instructed the computer to open the airlock of Bay Door 3. Outside the ship, a door slid open vertically allowing the alien craft to enter the airlock. Each airlock for the bay doors was fifty feet wide and fifty feet high. He watched on a camera as the alien craft slowly entered the airlock.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jameson’s voice cried out on the intercom.
Debra looked at him with eyes like daggers.
“I’m sorry, Debra.”
He turned off the docking bay’s intercom system. Next, he easily disabled remote access effectively shutting out the bridge from overriding the airlock. Jameson could be furious later.
“You can’t do this, Liam. We can’t!”
“Debra, it’s a solid plan. I knew Jameson wouldn’t go along. I apologize for lying. It’s already in the airlock. Are you with me?”
She stared at him and contemplated her next move. Endless seconds ticked away before she hit the next button to close the exterior air lock door. Once closed, air rushed in filling it up. The computer initiated the process to open the inner door.
He watched as the inner door slowly ascended, revealing the alien craft behind it. He kept his breathing at a steady pace hoping to stay calm, but his heart was beating twice as fast as normal. Half a minute later the door opened enough for the craft to fly into the room.
The alien craft was breathtaking. Like its mothership, it was without a straight line anywhere on the surface. He estimated it at thirty feet long and shaped like a miniature fighter jet. The charcoal colored craft hovered above its landing spot for a moment. Unlike the wingless Z56 ships, this craft sported wings that stuck out fifteen feet on each side and arced down at the tips. He thought back to his numerous acts of bravery over the years and channeled that bravery into the simple act of moving his legs forward. His heart beat so fast he worried he’d collapse right then and there. By the time the craft settled into the landing zone, he found himself standing right next to it. He fought the urge to reach out and touch it.
As he examined the surface he noticed several scorch marks. This craft had seen battle. Battle with whom, he wondered? Before he could ponder his own question, a small stairwell appeared out of nowhere in the eight foot gap between the floor and the underside of the ship and above it a door opened. He positioned himself directly in front of the stairs. The only thing visible through the door was blackness. He steeled himself to witness a monster crawl out, but what he saw surprised him. The alien was humanoid. It stood just above seven feet tall and was immensely skinny. He thought it couldn’t weigh more than one hundred pounds.
It came out of the craft dressed
in a black one-piece uniform that covered it from feet to neck. Its skin was gray, a few shades lighter than the color of the ship. It was also completely hairless on its head, not even eyebrows above its vertical, not horizontal, eyes. Its long legs handled the stairwell in large, graceful steps. As it reached the floor it studied Liam expressionlessly. He couldn’t tell what it was thinking—murderous rage or friendly hello.
He realized his hands were sweaty and tried to subtly wipe them dry on his pants.
“Hello. My name is Liam Donovan. Can you understand me?”
First contact with an alien species. His only witnesses were hiding with guns drawn ready to fire at the first sign of an attack, and Debra who remained at the airlock control panel. He kept eye contact with the alien waiting for its response.
The alien spoke. Its language consisted of pops and clicks entwined with unknown words. The speech was free of inflection giving him no hints to its intention. It was then that he took notice that the alien did not use a breathing mask. It breathed in the same air as humans. Curious.
The alien began to look around the docking bay. Afraid that it might discover the hiding pilots, he tentatively stepped closer to the alien to keep its focus on him.
“Why are you here? Nod your head if you understand me.” He demonstrated by nodding his own head up and down. The alien remained motionless, its eyes back on Liam as he now stood only a couple feet away. It spoke again in the dialect that reminded him of tribes in Africa he communicated with during the war. He shook his head and put his hand to his ear trying to demonstrate that he couldn’t understand.
“Come,” he said, motioning for the alien to follow. It took the cue and they began walking toward the front entrance. The alien’s long strides caught it up to him and they walked side-by-side. He stole a glance at the alien beside him, having to look almost straight up to see the chin on its narrow face. They stopped in front of the panel by the door. He began a distraction of showing the alien the cameras inside the airlocks. Behind them, one of the pilots laid flat on the ground underneath the closest Z56. The pilot exchanged his pistol for a Taser gun and as he kept the alien distracted, the pilot aimed and fired.
The alien screamed in pain as electricity flowed through its body causing it to drop down to its knees. With one last look at Liam it fell over and passed out. He recognized that look. The alien finally showed an expression—it looked betrayed. The other pilots came out of their hiding spaces putting their weapons away. He couldn’t help himself and bent down to touch the alien’s skin. The texture was rough and bumpy.
“Tie it up,” he told one of the pilots. The pilot ran to one of the mechanic stations and grabbed a cable. They tied the alien’s arms behind its back and dragged it to the nearest corner of the room.
“You,” he said to a young pilot, “stay here and make sure this thing doesn’t wake up. Keep your weapon ready. Kill it if necessary. The rest of you, come with me.”
He led the remaining four pilots back to the alien craft. They each took a moment to examine the vessel. He ran his hand along the surface taking it in. The material was smooth, almost no friction on the surface. He checked one of the scorch marks. It was definitely a battle scar. Maybe Earth wasn’t the first planet to put up a fight.
“You sure you want to do this, Liam?” Debra asked as she joined them to examine the ship. “I hate that you put me in this position, but at the end of the day, I am a more qualified pilot than you.”
“I concede that. However, neither of us know the first thing about this ship. You’re needed here in case hell breaks loose. And it’s not like I’ve never flown anything before.”
“Fine. It’s all you. But let me come in with you and help you figure things out.”
He accepted and the two ascended the stairwell entering the foreign craft. Once they were at the top of the stairs they could either continue forward into a small cargo hold, or make a left and up another two steps into the cockpit. They turned left.
As he hoped—and banked his entire plan on—the cockpit wasn’t too different from human ships. There were two joysticks for flying. Everything else was digital and represented on screens. No analog dials or needles. There was just enough space in the cockpit for him to sit and Debra to observe over his right shoulder. The seat was designed for a being twice as skinny as himself and at least a foot taller. To fit in the chair he had to slightly lean on his right side.
Together, they examined every feature of the cockpit they were able to discern. In his military days he gained some basic fighter jet experience flying in a handful of missions in Africa including the Battle of the Nile in Egypt where he shot down two Egyptian jets. A smaller population meant a smaller military. Many in uniform were cross-trained from ground assault to air and naval.
Minutes later Jameson’s people were outside the docking bay attempting to hack in. Quickly, he and Debra studied the controls in the alien cockpit. Through deductive reasoning they ascertained how to turn the craft on. Immediately it floated up and hovered at a three foot height. He tested one of the joysticks by moving it slightly forward. It rose vertically another two feet. He pulled it backwards and it descended. The other stick moved the craft left, right, forward, and backward.
From the stairwell came a disembodied voice of a pilot yelling to them they only had a minute left before Jameson’s people breached the doorway.
“I can handle the rest,” he told Debra behind him. “I’ll figure it out as I go. Get out and open the inner airlock door. Number three.”
Debra said goodbye and left the cockpit. It took him three attempts to close the stairwell behind her. Finally he was able to slowly and carefully turn the ship and glide it toward the opening airlock door. A screen on his left showed a view from the rear of the ship. There must have been a hidden camera back there that no one saw in their examination. When the airlock was halfway open, five of Jameson’s men stormed inside and ran straight at his commandeered craft. The men fired their weapons. He could hear the bullets bouncing off the exterior. No lights or alarms went off in the cockpit so he took that as a good sign.
One of the men suddenly appeared outside the cockpit window waving his arms in a vain attempt at stopping him. He recognized the man below from his warehouse. He was one of their top security guards and was friendly with Liam during his daily security checkpoint routines. He tried to wave the man away, but he stood his ground. He inched the craft forward hovering at a height just above the man’s head. Once the door opened enough he brought the craft inside. His old security guard banged on the bottom of the craft as he passed over him.
He watched Jameson’s crew shout at him in the rearview monitor, but they didn’t dare come inside the open airlock.
Debra waited for the computer panel to tell her it was safe to open the outer door. The button to do just that lit up green and she pushed it down while wishing Liam good luck.
Chapter 14
THE EMPTINESS TOOK his breath away. Liam piloted the alien craft into the depth of space. The void before him was terrifying and wondrous. Sure he felt confident in his plan, but he wondered for the first time how he could act on such an impulse. No turning back now.
He banked the craft to the right flying along the starboard side of The Hawking. The impressive alien mothership grew closer as he accelerated. Within moments he found himself in no man’s land in between the two giant ships. He fought back the overwhelming fear creeping up his skin.
Seconds later he was alongside the massive alien ship. He tried to glimpse inside the passing windows, but he was moving too fast to make anything out. It was so long he could barely see the rear of it. He took a moment to play with the controls—adjusting speed and elevation. He noticed on the digital screen readout that as he adjusted the controls, words and symbols were corresponding to each change. He couldn’t read it of course, but it was comforting to him for some reason to know that the craft he was piloting was able to display his actions.
His journey to the
rear of the alien ship was mercifully uneventful. He flew past the back of the ship to a far enough distance and turned around to face its four rear thrusters. Each thruster produced a fiery orange-blue glow and they were spaced at least one hundred feet apart from each other.
Time for phase two of his plan.
He lined himself up with the second thruster on the right. During his voyage from The Hawking he identified what he believed to be the weapons controller. It was a knob between and below the two flight control joysticks. On the top of the knob was a glowing red button. He pushed it.
Nothing happened.
“Fuck.”
He tried again. Still nothing.
He searched the cockpit for other likely triggers and, growing desperate, he pushed them all. One of them turned on a light inside the cockpit, but that was all he managed to accomplish.
Two identical alien crafts circled around the far side of the ship to his left. He was no longer alone. He frantically turned the light back off. Alien voices filled the cockpit, no doubt coming from his two new friends. He prayed they couldn’t see him through the window.
In desperate frustration he returned to his original choice for the craft’s weapons trigger. Repeatedly he smashed the button. Although it was hard to tell, he thought the alien voices were getting upset at his lack of response.
“Shit!” he shouted angrily as he hit the trigger knob. He wanted to yank the damn thing out of the panel. He grabbed it and pulled, hoping to at least achieve some satisfaction throwing it behind him. However, when he pulled, it clicked up into a new position and the glowing red light turned green.
“Oh.”
He was able to turn it like a third joystick. A red circle appeared on the window in front of him that correspondingly moved along with each adjustment to the trigger stick. Again taking aim at a thruster, he fired. A green streak expelled from underneath his craft heading straight for his target. He fired one more then flew up and to the right just missing a green streak that was aimed at himself. He didn’t know if the streak was a missile, a laser, or what, but he knew it made no difference. Two alien crafts were now trying to shoot him and that was all he cared about.
Proxima Page 13
