An Alien Rescue (49 page)

He sniggered at the
all very simple
line, imagining a present day astronaut explaining the Space-Shuttle’s mechanics and aerodynamics to Wilbur and Orville Wright, with a similar closing line. “Oh yeah, sure. Absolutely easy for anyone to work out. Damned sure it is.”
It’s always easy when you know the answers,
he thought to himself.

Belinda added, “Yes, you are quite correct, Scott. Everything is much easier when we know it all.”

“I’ve gotta get myself a couple of these gismos for the use of, that’s for sure. Biking will be so much more fun and cool.” He said it with a cunning grin and a wicked chuckle.

Phyllis looked confused. “The force-field does not force the temperature down to cool you, Scott. If anything, it allows the trapped atmosphere to warm, so it is quite the opposite of what you think.”

He saw the mistake he had made, and rather than own up to using incorrect language control he just nodded and said, “Right, yeah. Of course it does. I should have known better.”

Belinda added he couldn’t really have known, but might have guessed. He nodded, choosing not to follow-up the correction. The
Grey had continued to observe their interactions in silence, mystified to their purpose of communication while planning his next move and their ultimate capture.

“O
K. OK. You win. There’s a lot more to microwave radiation than I or any other human on Earth knows about.” He waited for a moment, sucking in air through his teeth as he seemed to think of something else to ask while on the subject.

He looked up. “So, how do we defrost them without harming or cooking them?”

The ladies almost smiled again, but understood how serious his question was.

Belinda said, “The radiation is applied in several wavelengths, quite a few actually.”

“Yes, that is absolutely correct,” agreed Phyllis, taking over the explanation. “The radiation thaws individual body components at different rates, all at the same instant. For instance, if the blood was returned to its liquid form before the heart was able to pump it, it might coagulate into life-threatening clots.”

Scott could imagine the full extent of her implications, nodding his understanding.

She continued. “The heart and other vital organs, including the brain, need to become active at exactly the same moment, otherwise disaster would strike.”

He nodded.

“As the temperature rises within and around the body, the tissue is massaged by the energy waves, easing the various body parts back into a functional status. The metabolic and nervous systems are jolted into life by the same energy, electrifying the dielectric potential between and across neurons and synapses. The entire body almost jumps as it is brought back to life.”

Scott had understood everything he had heard, but it sounded as if Frell was dead and required resurrection. “So, again, how the hell can we hear her calling my name if she was dead?”

“Ah,” said Phyllis, wondering why he had been wearing a puzzled expression as she had explained Frell’s recovery in detail. “Once again, her mind had been active when the Grey machine had frozen her, her calling your name had been deliberate on her part as she had obviously understood the process as I have described it. She would have known her thoughts at the time would continue as long as her body was embedded in ice. Her mind is a strong one and her subconscious message would continue unabated. The machinery that controls her captivity would pick up the signal and carry it across to the communications program. Her body is constantly monitored, with any little energy waves received and amplified, which is why she was able to call out to you. I hope that makes sense, even though I have greatly simplified the processes involved.”

“I… I think I’ve followed you, although it all sounds very complicated. It still sounds like getting a message from beyond the grave though.”

Phyllis wanted to tell him there is something in what he says, that getting messages from those who have departed does happen, and for very similar reasons. However, she didn’t wish to get into the conversation of communicating with the deceased. The psychic woman on Earth was one of those who were gifted enough for that sort of communication, which is why the Greys attempted to use her, she knew.

“O
K. So how is it all proceeding?” He wondered how soon he might be able to see his brilliant and amazing lover again.

Belinda checked the progress of both units. “They are at equal stages and are well through the process of recovery. It will take another hour though.”

“Phew,” he said. “That’s a long time considering the Grey rats know we are here.”

Belinda and Phyllis conferred with each other. The Greys were not rats! Then realised he was simply playing with words to describe his contempt for them. They correctly guessed he didn’t like rats either.

The Grey had stood motionless while the three had talked, watching and analysing each of the human apes as they chatted. He needed to contact his fellow beings to inform them of numbers and present situation. If he used telepathy they would know and his life would end without question or hesitation. There had to be another way, he understood. The man had sat down on the floor, leaning against a wall with his back. He was obviously feeling tired and drained from his experiences. The Grey recognised the same fatigue would be suffered by his companions. Their complexions were pale and drawn, with dark rings appearing around the eyes and worry lines across their foreheads.

Scott noticed the silence. “Why do we not hear Frell calling anymore?” he asked after realising her voice had gone from his mind.

“It is quite normal,” answered Phyllis. “Her calling you was a case of positive feedback locked within the monitoring system, that little amplified signal. She would have been deliberately calling you by telepathy and as often as she could while being frozen following her capture. The circuitry that controlled the cryogenic process would have received the mental message, logging it into its own operating system. Having fooled the system’s memory into believing the calling was a normal part of her brain pattern. The result was the message being periodically repeated, telepathically transmitted. To remove the call from its controlling system, the machine would require shutting down to be restarted. To do this would lose Frell’s biorhythm and neuronal memory, with possible death following soon after.” She shrugged her shoulders as she added, “It is my belief the Grey captors must have been driven half-mad by her continued message being sent to you.”

This made Scott smile with pleasure. He raised himself from the floor with renewed vigour and strode across to the silent
Grey, bending forward and saying loudly, “I hope it really screwed you and your bald-headed pals madder than a fucking CJD cow!” The grey stood motionless as Scott’s face almost touched his with the threat of a raised voice pinging in his ears. While in reality, the grey would have wet himself if he had been able. His knees were already knocking as his legs wanted him to flee the scene as fast as his spindly legs could carry him. Scott stood there watching him, wanting to give him a good thumping to see if he would cry or at least plead for mercy. Both women saw his internal torment and carefully pulled him back. The little Grey still didn’t move or try to communicate. If Scott could have read his thoughts he would have known the sheer terror that was plaguing the mind of the little guy who outwardly appeared as cool as a cucumber.

T
urning around, Scott sat down again, waiting patiently to see Frell again. Belinda turned back to the computer screen and typed a question. The grey motioned over to read it, answering straightaway, but only just before he understood the danger he had placed himself into by doing so.

“The system’s now automatic,” Belinda shouted. “The system will recover Frell and Drang with no more inputs required from anyone… especially
that!”
pointing at the Grey who appeared to shrink in fright before their eyes!”

They all perked up at the announcement, with Scott practically leaping to his feet. The grey had realised too late what he had done and began to telepathically announce the information his colleagues would want to know. The three heard his message, with each heading towards him
like guided missiles. As quick as a flash, Belinda shouted, “Stop him, Scott!”

The revolver was no sooner out of its holster that two bullets spun their evil way through the outer soft flesh before his devious plan was completed. The grey-coloured flesh exploded as the others had,
his body thrown backwards by the force of penetrating bullets as lumps and syrupy-looking guts exploded outwards. Large and small pieces landed with a squelching sound, bouncing like pieces of rubber across the floor with foul smelling body fluids splattering in almost every conceivable direction. The ragged-edged lumps were almost pure white and for some strange and mysterious reason they reminded Scott of a chopped-up hard-boiled egg. He remembered eggs with glistening, melted butter before being dusted with ground black pepper and salt for taste. It was the kind of meal he had enjoyed with toasted bread as a child; only, he doubted he could eat what he was presently looking at.

Silence r
eigned briefly, each taking in the scene of carnage. The women guessed they should be getting used to the experience by now, but still found it difficult to accept. Scott had no trouble with the scene. He understood the laws of nature more than his companions did. A long silent moment stirred between them, until Scott spoke with his black sense of humour to try and get things moving again. “You won’t believe this, and I cannot blame you if you don’t, but the sight of the Grey lying over there in pieces is making me feel hungry.”

It took both of his companions a moment to fully take on board what he had just said, considering the scene and his feelings of needing to eat. Both were unable to connect the visual element with the need to feed the body by seeing the remains spread across the floor and surrounding walls. The smell alone was enough to make them vomit, never mind wanting to eat. They each looked at him, watching him lick his lips.

Belinda asked, “You wouldn’t really eat something like that, would you?”

He turned and smiled at their innocence, replying, “Nah. Course not! Unless I was really starving, then a splash of gravy and a few chopped onions and carrots…. Who knows?”

Scott almost laughed at their faces as the picture of Scott making a meal of the remains with vegetables and gravy ran through their minds. He actually saw the picture as the horror of the scene transcended their thoughts. The other Greys also saw it, believing their destroyed colleague was about to be eaten by the apes. The Greys were not given to showing much emotion, but this stirred them into feeling a certain amount of personal fear. What kind of beings were these humans, they quizzed each other? They would now rather avoid the apes than try to apprehend them. The base commander also wanted rid of their violence, but needed to capture them first.
Dead was as good as alive
, he thought.

“Hey,” Scott called out to the ladies. “It’s all right; I was only kidding about eating them.
”

They didn’t say anything.

“I was really thinking of something else, but I do feel hungry. It’s been ages since we had anything decent to eat, you know?”

The memory of eating with Mike returned and the sounds of
more rumbles came from their tummies. They had started their own mechanisms and their blood-sugar levels were dropping, making them as hungry as Scott had just described.

“If we can get Frell and Drang recovered
quickly, we can get back to the ship and the hell outa here, pronto as hell.” Scott had done it again, although Belinda and Phyllis suspected they each knew what he meant, except the
pronto-as-hell
bit. That caught them napping. Belinda was seen to visibly shake her head, while Phyllis just blinked a few times. Their energy levels were dropping and Scott’s choice of words only served to help confuse them even more.

“How’s it all going, then?” he asked.

Spurred back into action, Phyllis crossed to interrogate the screen, deciphering the sequence and how far it had run. Without giving it any thought, she actually used her hands, touching several illuminated buttons while running her palms across little semicircles that flashed as they were touched. Having completed her investigation, she turned to tell them the process was almost complete and it was only a matter of minutes until the next stage began. Her explanation seemed to have fallen on deaf ears as both Scott and Belinda remained still and silent. Phyllis looked puzzled, wondering if she had said something wrong before Belinda spoke with a grin.

“Phyllis?” she said.

“Yes?”

Belinda hesitated. “You have just used your hands.”

Phyllis didn’t seem to hear what had been said. She just stood still and quiet, not even attempting to look at them. Scott thought the shock of what she had just been told would take a moment to register in her brain. He was right.

“Phyllis, are you okay?” Belinda asked with concern, having expected a different kind of response.

Phyllis stood motionless. The idea of using her hands was something she hadn’t given any real thought to. Using them had been the natural thing to do. She almost believed she could be dreaming, hearing something she wanted so badly. She was afraid to raise her hands into her line of sight and her eyes wouldn’t obey the command to look downwards. If she was dreaming and the damage was still as bad as it had been she would definitely break down, which was something she couldn’t handle. She waited another moment before answering Belinda’s concerned question, it wasn’t something she felt like hurrying to do, just in case it
was
a dream. “Yes, I am OK… I think. Unless I
am
dreaming.”