An Alien Rescue (36 page)

“And he’s the leading spirit of some woman who lives near to where I live?”

“Yes, believe it or not.”

Scott was astonished by this latest piece of news. It seems the Greys were trying their best to locate him. He guessed they wanted him very badly, but was it just for his genetic codes or because he had pissed them off so much. He wondered with a grin, because he was sure as hell they were not going to get
their
scaly grey paws on him again. “Is there any more about her?”

Belinda checked, gasping. “She has been on board their ships, involuntarily, of course. The Greys have tried to use her to locate you, with several attempts recorded. With the change of your biochemical signature, which we carried out, and the failure of their little expedition to your find the transponder we buried in your locality, they have fallen back on using her amazing abilities to find you.”

“Has this put her at any risk?”

Phyllis never hesitated with an answer. “Anyone who has received any kind of attention from the Greys is at risk.” It was said with deliberate seriousness.

“What else can you tell me about this woman, then?”

“She travels to many different countries, especially America, Peru and Egypt, using her psychic abilities to entertain, educate and help others. She seems to have some sort of affinity with the ancient American tribes, which might be why the spirit of a long since dead American Indian chose to give her his undivided attention.” Looking up, she wanted to see Scott’s expression as he was hearing all she was telling him. He was in deep thought with a look that suggested he was concentrating. She continued. “She is also a talented musician, playing mainly wind instruments while sometimes singing and dancing to music that she herself has composed.”

“Wow! She sounds like a good all rounder, she does.”

“The record adds her talents and abilities to communicate with the spirit world are some of the best anyone has displayed or experienced. Which is why she has chosen to move near to you?”

“But why move close to me? Why me, for Christ’s sake?”

“Because the Greys are manipulating her power, using her energies and abilities to find you. If she can make contact they will know it and that will give them direct access to you.”

“The dirty sneaky sods!”

“Yes, but very clever sneaky… sods,” she agreed.

“What about the music you mentioned? Are there any lists of what she sings or plays?”

She turned and entered the question. “Yes, strangely enough. The songs are here, on file, and there are quite a lot.”

“You have got to be joking!”

Belinda returned her attention to Scott, looking him straight in the eyes. “Why should I joke with you? What is there to be gained from such a false act?”

He felt like laughing at her naivety, but only smiled as he rubbed his eyes as tiredness sneaked into his mind and across his face. “I’m sorry, yet again, Belinda,” he apologised. “I’m feeling tired and my sense of surprise can make me say idiotic things sometimes.”

“Yes, I thought you were looking tired. But it doesn’t matter though, I’m not offended. I just get confused by your little statements from time to time.”

Hey, I even confuse myself on occasion.”

With a nod of her head and a likeable smile, she said, “Yes. You and the rest of us.”

A little shake of his head to help clear his thoughts prompted him to ask to hear some of her music. Belinda searched, saying, “There’s one titled,
We Are the Witches
. A most peculiar title as any I have heard.”

“
Sounds kind of spooky to me.” Said Mike, with the prospect of hearing some music cheering him up.

“
Well, let’s hear it then?” said Scott.

“Yeah,” added Mike. Put the tune on the box and let’s boogie-on-down, sister.”

Scott smirked at his comment.

The music began with a resounding burst of sound. It went with a steady tempo and a rapid beat; their feet were tapping in no time at all. From the first few notes, the three were almost bopping around the room. Boomtown had finally arrived on a Grey base. The chorus was catchy and easy enough to join in, almost like a karaoke sing-along. They smiled a relaxed sense of satisfaction, a shared song among camaraderie on a battlefield. The tune ended and they all laughed and jostled like youngsters at a pop concert.

“That was brill’,” Scott said while still enjoying the tune in his mind.

“Brilliant,” explained Belinda, turning to face Phyllis, as if she thought she should explain the word’s meaning. Phyllis said she thought the music was ‘
brill
’ too, emphasising the word to let Belinda know she wasn’t amused by her thinking she needed it translating. She felt annoyed. Phyllis had shown discontent, which Belinda picked up from her subterfuge response. It crossed Belinda’s mind that Phyllis was beginning to progressively show more and more Earth human traits than previously. Belinda smiled in response, approaching then laying a hand on Phyllis’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she agreed. “It
was
brill.” Phyllis nodded.

“In all honesty, I cannot believe everything that is happening here. I’m on Mars and listening to a song about,
Witches
, of all things. And if I didn’t know better, I would head for the nearest psychiatric unit and turn myself in as the biggest raving loony in the universe.”

They all chuckled at his outburst.

“Witches on Mars, indeed!” he stated, with a grin.

The machine’s noises suddenly stopped and the turning-around group were amazed as the mechanism rapidly withdrew from Phyllis to disappear from where it dropped from. Phyllis was
pleased it was over, the obvious relief showing on her face. Belinda, on the other hand, was eager to move on after seeing the operation was complete.

The commander felt he was at a crossroads now. He had repaired the hands of the female so wondered what they might consider doing with him. He knew death might be an option, understanding he would be resurrected by cloning if he were, and although the clone would be an identical copy of himself, it would not actually be
him
. The Empire would not be without his person, but it would not have his knowledge of everything that had happened. He needed to survive so he could tell all.

“What about Frell and Drang?” Belinda asked the Grey

“Yeah, what about them?” Mike repeated, turning to face the pale commander with bared teeth.

Scott turned to face him as well.

He replied to Belinda, who told them all. “They are on Earth, at a base beneath the Atlantic Ocean.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Scott said surprised.

“That makes a lot of sense,” added Belinda. “We have often considered they have had a base on Earth for quite some time, hidden from us all.”

“Sons of
Grey bitches,” Mike threw into the conversation. No one smiled. “So how the fuck on Earth do we get back there to save ‘em?”

Scott was stumped for an answer, Belinda was thinking their ship was a very long way away, and Phyllis was still lying down, recalling the knowledge of a Grey ship, in the hope they
might get their hands on one,
especially herself
, she thought. She wondered if it was the healing process that made her hands tingle as if thousands of pins and needles were being driven into them. She dare not look, her bravery did not extend that far, mentally concentrating on a Grey ship’s internals to distract herself. Then decided the thought might have some merit.

“Is there a Grey ship nearby?” Phyllis asked
, hoping there was.

The guys looked at Belinda while she looked at the grey. That was when she saw the answer from his mind. He had heard the question and gave the reply without meaning to. The suggestion made him think about his own escape, getting to the ship that lay berthed on the third nearest bay along the tunnel from where they stood. Belinda continued looking at the Grey, recognising there was fear behind his apparently neutral stance. His mind had been preoccupied with escaping at the time Phyllis asked her question and had answered before he could stop himself releasing the vital information. Scott had not seen or heard the answer, it appeared his capacity to communicate with the Greys was still limited. Belinda could not help but smile as she informed the men of what she had heard. Phyllis lay still, concentrating on remaining stationary while her hands were being ‘
fixed
’, as Mike had referred to it previously. The memories of the Grey ship’s controls were appearing within her mind. The commander was aware of it, worried more than ever while still planning an escape.

The team consisted of fifty clones, all carrying pieces of
Beagle
in their tiny arms, with the weight of larger pieces shared by two or more. Their surface skimming saucer was limited to travelling over Mars and not for venturing into space, so travel across the planet had taken some time. It was a no frills flight with plenty of thrills, a landscape hugging journey as it had flown as close as possible to the surface. It avoided horrendous hills and massive mountain ranges whenever possible, skimming along the bottom of deep crevices and canyons that were once sea beds and oceans, all edged with many miles-high vertical cliffs of red sandstone. The little ship was not flown back to the normal bays due to the Commander’s initiated emergency. It had, instead, been diverted to the tunnel access door where the trio had made their loud entrance. The sight of the damaged doors alerted the returning crew that all was definitely not well. The clones carefully laid the remains of Beagle on the surface, depositing the blackened and buckled shards into the almost permanent shadow of an overhanging ledge and as close to the entrance as possible. It was understood that Mars could be mapped by orbiting satellites, those that were left unharmed to prevent paranoia and suspicion - and not just in the ears of supposedly stupid humans.

The group rested while the foam did its
final work on Phyllis’s hands. It felt good to stop for a moment, enjoying some peace and quiet too. They each knew they must depart as soon as her hands were healed, making their way swiftly to the Grey ship that was just a bit further away than a few stone throws. It was when they were each deliberating the previous day’s events when a single word was heard by Belinda, Phyllis and Scott. The three of them almost jumped as
Beagle
got their adrenaline pumping, their heart rates shot up in consequence. Mike was oblivious to the alert of his comrades, all he was interested in was relieving Scott of Akay. He was allowing himself the pleasure of someone else holding her, taking the heavy weight for a while. His plan was to retrieve it from his grasp before they set off again, he grinned. The grin went unnoticed by his trio of friends; they were too busy trying to figure where the word
Beagle
originated from.

While the
three wondered, each of their eyes surveyed the Grey for a sign that he may be aware of its origin. A very silent Commander avoided eye contact, which answered the question in its own way. With nothing else to be learned, their complete and utter attention centred on the Grey, whose own attention was obviously taken by something else. He didn’t appear to be concerned, quite the opposite in fact. That was when Scott had the idea he was planning to do something. He was right. The Grey began to communicate with persons or individuals unseen. His eyes widened as he made a break for the doorway while describing the situation.
I am a prisoner in the clinic with four humans, one is armed with a weapon and
… That’s when Scott not so gently squeezed the trigger and all communication from him stopped … dead, literally. Akay had spoken with anger, telling the Grey that in no uncertain terms he was to shut the fuck up with a spray of lead. It was a loud message, sounding like thunder with a cloud of choking smoke. Seven rounds were released at his flimsy escaping body, each one entering into his hairless flesh that put up no resistance whatsoever. As they passed through his guts, entrails and slime, the points didn’t flatten or concertina. They continued their unobstructed journey, smashing into the control panel beyond. Firecracker emulating sparks and clouds of eye-stinging smoke erupted from the smashed circuitry as it shorted and fused, all in time to the room’s lights flashing and flickering. It was more like a wild disco gone berserk in Ibiza than a secret base on Mars being destroyed. Scott half expected John Travolta to come waltzing into the lab wearing flared trousers while doing a boogie-woogie dance. Fortunately for Phyllis, the healing time had been completed with the mechanical arms retracted into the roof’s aperture, having silently folded themselves away without so much as a sound.

Seeing the commander come apart with the rounds, he embarrassingly said, “Oh, fuck it! I only meant to fire one round. Shit!”

Mike was dragged from his daydream by the escape attempt and the accidental annihilation across the room. Scott’s profound statement for blowing the Grey to smithereens was seen as a lame excuse as Mike couldn’t stop himself laughing.

“What’s so funny?”
An annoyed Scott shouted at the top of his voice at Mike.

“You are! You’ll be telling me you also thought the safety was on as well.”

Mike actually fell over in hysterics, holding his belly in case it was going to burst open with laughter. But before Scott or anyone else could speak, the word returned. It included an additional telepathic message,
Three quadrants away, arming, standby. Do not attempt to leave the area. Remain impassive.

Too fucking late you bunch of Grey fuckwits!
Was telepathically sent by a very angry Scott.

“
Scott - Oh no! You have just told them you, we, are aware of their arrival and the reason why they will get no reply from the commander. Without a hostage we are in for a bad time.”

Belinda held one hand across her mouth as if
to emphasise the point he shouldn’t say anything else. Phyllis agreed with her as she climbed off the bed while inspecting her hands. She smiled at the result without feeling any pain.

“Phyllis! You’re up and about again. How’
re the hands, babe?” Mike was showing genuine concern while not really knowing what the hell was about to go down.

“I am fine, Mike, thanks,” she answered with
great relief.

“Great, it’s good to know.” Mike said while laying a hand on her shoulders. While inspecting the repair job, he said, “So
, what the hell’s happening'?”

Scott beat anyone else to an answer. “The shit’s about to hit the fan, Mike. That’s what’s happening.”

Mike left Phyllis inspecting her hands while grabbing
his
Akay back from Scott’s grip.

“Is that because you’ve just blown that Grey mother fucker away? You Pratt!”

Belinda knew what Mike was thinking, understanding his misunderstanding of the situation. His jigsaw was missing a lot of pieces without the gift of telepathy. She also felt Scott’s growing anger at Mike’s statement, recognising a wish to hit him across the face. She intervened to stop any kind of affray between them. It was her job to keep them apart while explaining the problem.

“Mike! You do not fully know what is happening. Scott, you must understand Mike is not telepathic.”

Belinda had stopped them in their tracks, both halting to consider her words. Embarrassment prevented both saying anything else, including the word, sorry. She appreciated their backing down, knowing how difficult and frustrating the situation had turned into. Scott turned to Mike.

“Akay’s yours anyway.”

“Yeah, thanks, bud. She did okay though, yeah?”

“She sure did pardner. She sure as hell did
, and there’s the evidence,” pointing at the dismembered body.

“Yeah
!” Mike gave her a proud stroke before replacing her partially emptied magazine. He placed the used mag’ into the vacated pouch, noticing Scott’s observance. “No reason to trash a good mag’ just ‘cause it’s almost empty, is there?”

Scott knew
they had much fewer rounds left, recognising Mike was thinking ahead, especially as there was a group of Greys heading their way. And according to the message he’d heard, they could be armed.
With what though
, he inwardly asked himself, hoping his worst fears were unfounded.

“With the same weapons we left behind,” Belinda answered.

“Holy-friggen-shit!” Scott said in alarm. “We could be in deep trouble now!”

“That depends on whether or not they know how to use them,” said Phyllis, having finished the inspection of her hands.

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck’s going on?” shouted Mike while stamping a foot in order to get some attention. With only the audible sections of their conversation heard, he was none the wiser. Scott turned and explained what had happened, including the, Beagle, message. He added the rest of the saga, to Mike’s astonishment. Mike thought about their escape plan, the ship that wasn’t too far away while the Grey gooks were arming themselves to capture them... or worse.

Mike almost ran to the doorway, turning on his heels while cocking Akay. A shell spun out of the weapon as another took its place in the chamber. He, quick as a flash, reached up and caught it mid-flight; shoving it into a pocket while thinking it
could come in handy. His military head was back on his shoulders, thinking ahead at all times. “I want the three of you to get the hell out of here … Now!”

The group didn’t speak for a moment, thinking of what they had heard, seen, witnessed and regretted. Each of them imagined their escape from Mars in the Grey ship that was berthed not so far away, thinking they could all make it to safety if they were to leave at that moment. All three telepaths consulted with each other. Scott had reached the stage where he could communicate with the women, but wasn’t entirely happy about it. He had realised he could still be overheard when he didn’t want to be.

“Hey! What the fucking hell’s going down here?” shouted Mike. He saw the look on their faces. “This is a goddamned live or die situation here, and all you lot can do is think about pretty bloody flowers and barbeques on a sunny afternoon at the yachting club. Holy fucking shit! I’m surrounded by gals and guys who would rather sit in a circle and talk about the problems we face. Get a grip, soldiers! We’re running out of time!”

Scott wanted to protest at Mike’s uncouth and unwarranted remarks, secretly wanting to smack him in the mouth. Belinda and Phyllis understood what Mike was trying to say, although they would not have put it quite the same way he did. They instead calmed Scott while assuring Mike they were still intent on escap
ing.

“Well, get a fuck
’n grip then,” was his instant reply. He stepped into the doorway, swinging Akay around as if they were having the dance of their life. He was covering the door while trying to encourage them to leave.
Beagle
, was heard once again. Without receiving a reply, the returning group understood their commander’s life was over. It wasn’t retribution that forced them forward. No! It was the threat of the humans escaping and the base’s location becoming common knowledge. That thought, more than any other, persuaded them to run all the faster. They may only be clones, but they were still members of the Grey Empire. Programmed to follow and to carry out any orders, regardless of the danger or outcome.

The last message was overheard, the threat of being caught giving them the incentive to get out of the
clinic area as fast as possible.

“C’mon you lazy hairy-assed fuckers. Get them legs moving or I’ll leave y’all behind to fend fur y
erselves.” Mike was back in the jungle, in his own mind anyway. The gooks were almost upon them with only one weapon to give covering fire. It was as good as a foregone conclusion, as far as Mike was concerned. They had to move now or it would be too late. He knew it, they didn’t seem to.

Scott asked, “Which way is it to the ship?”

Belinda replied while leading the way into the tunnel. “Follow me. It is not too far.”

Phyllis and Scott fell in behind her, with Mike bringing up the rear. They had hardly gone any distance when the sound of footsteps other than their own was heard. It was a loud echoing pitter-patter, almost like rain water
dripping into a cavern, but the rain would need to be a torrent to give that amount of sound. It was unmistakably the returning group, pacing themselves with their leader, all tooled up with weaponry and ammunition. Mike made a hasty decision, the only one that could be made in those circumstances.

“I want the three of you to get to the ship as quickly as you can. I’m gonna stay here to hold ‘em up for as long as I can. You need to get the engines runnin’ and prepare for lift off. I’ll give you a clear five minutes to get ahead of me and then I’ll follow. If the gooks arrive before that time, I’ll let ‘em ‘ave it before cuttin’ and runnin’.
Do you understand people
?”

The women understood alright, Scott did too. The women did not want Mike to be left behind to fight on his own while Scott was aware there was more than one weapon. And if there
was one person in their outfit who knew how to stop them, it was the guy who held Akay in his vice-like mitts.

“What the fuck’r y’all lookin’ at? Get on board as quick as you can, otherwise the mission’s a failure. We don’t know how many gooks are a-comin, so get movin’ mister.” It was said in no uncertain terminology by Mike, who slipped the safety off as he heard the footsteps getting much closer.
Too close for comfort
, he thought.

Scott backtracked a few steps, reached out to Mike and shook his hand. “Just you make sure you’re on the ship before we leave you piece of hero shit.”

Mike gripped Scott’s hand as if to say good bye, while replying, “You take care of the girls should I not make it, ya hear?”

Scott paused; thinking about what he’d just heard Mike say. “Just make sure you’re on board or I’ll have to come back and rescue you. I know what you
squaddies are like; always needing us airy-fairies to dust you guys out of trouble.” And before Mike could respond, Scott was gone.