Escape 2: Fight the Aliens (17 page)

“Bob!” called Stefano. “The boss is bleeding. Tend to him. Cassandra, stand guard.”

Sitting up slowly as he held out his left arm for attention by ex-Marine and lifelong cynic Bob, Bill watched as Stefano completed the mission.

“Soft Glow, please lower the command pedestal seat.”

“Seat is lowering,” called the AI over the suit comlink.

Stefano sat in the seat, laid his arms on its two armrests and looked down to where Bob was wrapping first aid gauze around Bill’s left arm. The man had already zapped his wound with a painkiller injection. “Soft Glow, I claim control of this ship as the primary bioform in charge among the bioforms in this room. Do you accept me as the interim ship captain?”

“I accept you as interim ship captain,” the AI hummed low, sounding like a breeze through the trees. “Ship control granted to you.”

“Good.” His fellow SEAL gave him a wink and a half smile. The man had always been emotionally reserved, except when catching a trout or winning at Scrabble. Now, he seemed truly excited. “Discontinue any offensive actions that might have been ordered by the prior captain.”

“Launch of two MITV torps at landscape below is halted,” the AI hummed.

A chill hit Bill as he realized Diligent had aimed to kill a lot more people than those living in Kiev. Which reminded him the giant cockroach was still twitching on the floor below Stefano.

“Soft Glow,” his SEAL buddy called to the ship AI. “Please send in a hover bot to transport the former captain of this ship to one of the empty containment cells. He will be comfortable there. Oh, where is the Nokten navigation crystal for this ship?”

“Bringing in hover transport,” the tuneful ship mind hummed low. “The Nokten crystal is embedded in the right armrest of the command pedestal seat.”

Stefano looked pleased by the AI’s quick response. “Soft Glow, move this ship up alongside the ship which contains Star Traveler,” Stefano said. “And raise up control pillar function posts for Weapons and for Navigation. Cassandra, you’ve got Weapons. Bob, you’re at Navigation, if you feel up to it.”

“Shit yeah,” growled Bob over the comlink as he moved to sit to the front right of Stefano, the white gauze over his left shoulder showing red from leaking blood. “Got worse wounds than this during pirate ship takeovers off the coast of Somalia.”

“At my station,” called orange-haired Cassandra from the Weapons control pillar to the front left of the SEAL who had led his team to victory.

“Ship is rising to join ship
Blue Sky
,” the soft-voiced AI said. “Captain, what name do you wish to assign to this ship?”

Stefano gave Bill a nod, then looked up at the ceiling. “I name this ship
Seafloat
, after the floating firebase SEAL teams created in 1970 off the Ca Mau Penninsula of Vietnam. We did our job right in Vietnam. We’ve done it right up here.”

Bill licked his lips. He’d never heard Stefano make such a long statement, let alone a speech. But the man was right. He and his team had gone onto the Collector ship captained by the nastiest cockroach in the universe, had battled, had disabled all crew and had finally taser zapped its cockroach captain after Bill provided the necessary distraction by diving into the room. Stefano had known what Bill intended even without comlink chatter, which would have been heard by Diligent. They both were trained to place the survival of the team ahead of personal survival. This time everyone survived. Which felt good.

“Jane,” Bill called over his suit comlink. “Please advise General Poindexter that all six Collector ships are now secured. She can let the president know that the invading enemy is defeated.”

“I will, Executive Officer of mine.” She sounded relieved. “You oughta get back here ASAP so we can get you into a healer and get that arm wound fixed up.”

He felt a bit shaky from the blood loss and after action adrenaline rush. Nothing new there. Wounds were normal during any mission. “We’ll be alongside you shortly. When we get there I will come aboard via a boarding tube. I’m sure Star Traveler will make an exception.”

“That I will do,” hummed the AI who had become almost a friend during his and Jane’s nine months of occupancy aboard the
Blue Sky
. “Your return is most welcome.”

A thought occurred to him. “Uh, Soft Glow, how many collector pods returned to this ship with human captives?”

“Nine pods returned with Human captives. They occupy containment cells,” the AI said.

Better than twenty containment cells filled with humans. “Are they recovered from their tasering?”

“Yes, I administered wake-up shots to them in preparation for their departure from this ship,” the AI softly hummed. “All nine humans are awake and most have discovered they are inside a containment cell.”

That would not do. “Soft Glow, open a comlink from me to every cell occupied by a human. Provide translation to whatever language is spoken by each captive.”

“Comlink established. Translator ready.”

“People of Earth, I’m Bill MacCarthy, a former captive of the nasty Aliens who sent white pods down to your home to capture you and others,” he said, standing and walking toward Stefano’s command pedestal. He stopped and leaned against the silvery pillar that supported Stefano’s seat. “Well, your captors are now taser zapped and we control this ship!
We
are four members of American special operations forces. I’m sending hover bots to guide you along a ship hallway to the Command Bridge of this ship. We . . . we would like to meet you, and learn what place you call home. Come to us!”

Cheers sounded over the comlink. Stefano looked down.

“XO, I like this freeing of the captives. But how do we return them to their homes?” his buddy asked.

Bill grinned. “Oh, I think Builder of Joy of the
Tall Trees
might be willing to transport these nine folks down to wherever in Eurasia they call home! He’s on his way here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Stefano said, grinning back.

“Jane!” Bill called over the ship to ship comlink frequency. “Advise General Poindexter what we are doing here. If she wants to let the world media know about the returning captives, that might give us some nice videos and stories.” He sobered. “It might also give some solace to the widows, widowers and children of the vets who died on the
Port Royal
,
Carl Vinson
and
Theodore Roosevelt
. And provide solace to the families of the
Lightning
pilots who died and the survivors of the attacks on our space launch bases.”

“I will contact the general,” Jane said, her tone somber. “And I look forward to seeing the faces of the nine captives when they arrive in your Command Bridge!”

“They will arrive here within three minutes,” Soft Glow hummed. “I have deactivated the guardian robots outside the entry door of this chamber. The robots have freed each other from where their treads were partly melted to the floor. They are all heading to the Factory Chamber for repairs and reprogramming.”

Bill felt good at that news. The captives would be able to enter the bridge the normal way, through a door. The wall hole he’d entered through, and the ceiling hole through which his team had dropped, were vanished as the ship’s flexmetal healed itself. Too bad he and Jane had not known Star Traveler could do this wall opening thing when they were first taking over the
Blue Sky
. Now they knew. And soon he, Stefano, Cassandra, Bob and his pilot Builder would have a chance to meet the people they had fought to liberate. While their official objective was to enter and take over the six Collector ships, every one of the 18 people who’d spent 35 hours with him doing Op Force training had realized entry into a Collector ship would also involve the freeing of human captives. So it had happened here. So it would happen on the other five  ships over the next few hours. In the meanwhile, he and Jane and the team leaders who now served as Collector ship captains would await their orders from Poindexter and the president. For America was still at war. And the Alien threat was not ended. Not with an Alien Market world lying just two days journey from Sol system!

CHAPTER TWELVE

The nine captives who entered the Command Bridge were a mix of ages, genders and nationalities. Four looked to be Chinese. They included an older woman and three men in their thirties. A fifth male captive looked Japanese and wore something like a monk’s robe. The four other captives were Slavic in facial features, and were likely Russian or Ukrainian. Among the Slavic four were two younger women and two men of different ages. Each had a translator disk affixed to the left shoulder. Standing beside Stefano’s command pedestal, he waved at them with his right hand.

“Welcome,” he said, still inside his vacsuit, as were his team members. “I am Bill MacCarthy from Denver, Colorado, in America. Above me is Stefano Cordova, also from Denver. We are SEALs. Up front are Cassandra Welsh from our Air Force and Bob Milley, a Marine. Both also hail from Denver. Behind me is Builder of Joy, a
friendly
Alien who is part of my crew.” The nine listened attentively, looking around the circular room, but also acting tentative. The three women clustered together, as if feeling the need for mutual support among so many men. “No one will harm you! Food and water will be provided to you if you wish. Uh . . . Star Traveler, project a big true space holo to one side.” The holo appeared. In it were the curving green forests, purple mountains and blue lakes of Eurasia. The black space included an image of the distant Moon. The captives gasped. “As you can see, we are in space. You were captured by slave-taking Aliens. They planned to sell you to other Aliens at a distant star system. You would have had to do forced labor on mining asteroids in order to eat, have air and a place to sleep. You would never have returned home.” Somber expressions now filled the faces before him. “Soft Glow, raise seats for these folks where they now stand. They can sit and relax.”

“Raising seats,” the AI said as, to the evident surprise of the captives, silvery metal seats with curving backs rose before each of them. Another wonder of the flexmetal floor. “Would you like a seat for yourself?”

“Uh, yes.” Bill walked a few paces and sat at a seat newly risen from the bridge deck. He smiled at the now seated captives. “Please share your names with me, and where you come from. We have a small transport ship that will soon take you home, but we need to know where to take you.”

A middle-aged Chinese man looked at Bob, then at Bill. He spoke. “Mr. MacCarthy, I thank you for my freedom. You and your Bob friend are wounded. I am a doctor. May I offer assistance?”

He almost said no, recalling that the healer clamshells on
Blue Sky
could fix any injury. Then he remembered this encounter was being watched by Jane, Richardson, his Alien crewmates, General Poindexter and maybe the rest of the world. He nodded and gestured for the man to approach. “Yes, your medical help is appreciated. I have a first aid kit in my backpack, down by my feet. Uh, what is your name?”

The man, dressed in a brown tunic and wearing sneakers, walked toward Bill. “My birth name is Li K’ê-jan. My parents named me after a famous Chinese painter. I come from Harbin. May I remove this bandage?” the man said as he knelt beside Bill’s seat.

“Yes K’ê-jan, of course. Use the kit as you think best. Bob gave me a painkiller shot, so I feel no pain right now,” he said.

“Good to know,” the man said in birdlike tones of Mandarin that came to Bill’s helmet earphones as English. The doctor pulled the kit out of his backpack, opened it, grabbed scissors and began cutting away Bob’s bandage.

Bill looked to the eight seated captives. “Your names please, and where you come from? We really do wish to get your home to your family and friends.”

The older Chinese woman gave a long sigh. “I am known as Huang Biyu. I was gathering wood in the hills outside my home in a village close to Guiyang.” The woman paused, looked around the room, then showed a shy smile. “Commander MacCarthy, I am known as a teacher of flower arrangements. I would gift your home with one of my arrangements. If you wish.”

Bill understood this was the woman’s way of saying thank you for her rescue. “Madame Biyu, you are as precious as the stone that is your personal name. I thank you. I accept your offer.” He looked at the other captives. “Who else will speak?”

A Slavic man in his forties who wore a thick black mustache frowned, then nodded quickly. “My name is Anatoly Burakin. I am an electrical engineer. My home is in Irkutsk. Thank you for this rescue.”

“You are welcome, Anatoly,” Bill said, choosing to ignore how the Chinese doctor was threading black thread through a needle as he prepared to stitch the gaping hole in his upper arm. “Everyone? No need to be so quiet.”

A younger Slav man whose brown hair was crewcut and who held himself at formal attention, with shoulders braced back, fixed brown eyes on Bill. “Commander MacCarthy, I am Sergei Arkady Alexandrovitch. I am a captain with the 12
th
Aerospace Defense Brigade at Vladivostok. My
Sukhoi PAK FA
crashed after I fired on an Alien collector pod. On the ground, another pod hit me with a red light beam that felt electric.” Bill noticed now that the man wore a green jumpsuit similar to that which would be worn under a pressure outfit. “I request a return to Vladivostok.”

Bill nodded quickly. “Captain Alexandrovitch, the valor of the Russian Aerospace Forces during their fight against the collector pods sent down by the Collector ships is known and appreciated by me and my team. I am glad you survived your encounter. Of course you will be returned to Vladivostok, along with all of your personal belongings.”

The Russian looked relieved. Next to him were two Slavic women. Both of them blond with hair braided atop their heads. One of them spoke.

“I am Nadya Putin, from Novosibirsk,” said the younger woman, her voice calm and confident. “I work there as an aerospace design engineer. Which makes my presence aboard this spacecraft an opportunity for wonder and joy!”

“Nadya, glad we could get you into space,” Bill said.

“I am not so famous as these others,” said the other blond-haired Slav woman. “I am known as Svetlana Anosova. My home is in Volgograd. I have three young children and a husband. They are surely missing me!” she said, her voice rising.

He gestured reassurance. “Svetlana, this meeting is being broadcast to our officials in America. I am sure they will advise the Russian, Japanese and Chinese ambassadors of the identity of you all. Your families will know you are safe before they greet you in person.”

Every captive showed relief at that news. The two Chinese men who had been silent now spoke quickly.

“I am Kuan Pei,” said a young man dressed in black trousers, black jacket and black shoes. “My home is in Lanzhou. Please return me there.”

The second young man gave Bill a quick nod. “American Commander, thank you for this rescue! I am Wu Tso, an artist who was painting in the woods outside my home in the city of Chengdu. Please return me to my home. Though I wish I had my pastels with me. This . . . floating image of Earth and space deserve memorializing!”

Bill smiled at the artist’s enthusiasm.

The Chinese doctor now stood up from where he had finished wrapping a new white gauze bandage over Bill’s left arm. “You need an antibiotic shot as a precaution, but your arm should heal nicely. The beam missed your bone and main artery. I sewed the damaged muscles and tendons together. The thread will degrade naturally. Time for me to help Mr. Bob, whose wound involves his shoulder.”

“Yes, doctor Li, please tend to my friend Bob,” Bill said, gesturing the man forward. “He took a laser in his shoulder, though being a Marine, you would never know how serious the injury was.”

Bob’s look of puzzlement as he examined the Navigation control pillar now changed to bemusement. The chief cynic among his saloon buddies enjoyed being the skeptic in their group. And pretending to be the toughest of them all. Now, the man had to suffer the ministrations of a well-meaning foreigner. “I feel fine. But the doc can look me over as he wishes.”

Li picked up Bill’s first aid kit and walked over to Bob’s work station, kneeling down so he could access Bob’s wound. As before, he began by cutting away the gauze bandage, now soaked with blood, thanks to his buddy’s work in fighting the ship crew.

Bill looked at the last man, a Japanese judging by his facial features. Wearing a black robe with a white inner shirt, the man looked to be in his sixties. His head was shaven and his black eyes twinkled with what looked like good humor.

“
Sensei
Bill MacCarthy, I am Atsushi Yamamoto, a Zen Buddhist monk from our temple at Higashi Hongan-ji, in Kyoto,” the man said softly. “I was meditating in the woods to the west of our temple when a white teardrop hovered before me, then touched me with a red ray of electricity. I lost awareness. I awoke in a cell that resembled my place of repose. Then a . . . floating robot escorted me here. I thank you for this remarkable experience.”

Bill had met a few Buddhists in his years at Denver. He liked their composure, their peacefulness and their focus on compassion. While non-violence was a tenet of their faith, every Buddhist he’d met had made him feel welcome even after learning of his combat history. Which was what this monk had done in calling him
sensei
, or teacher. “
Sensei
Yamamoto, you are most welcome here. I hope you will enjoy your journey home when my flying squirrel friend,” he gestured back at Builder, “pilots the transport that will return you all to your homes.”

The monk looked past Bill at Builder of Joy. “So nice to see the shape of intelligence and caring from another star home!”

Bill noticed that the Chinese doctor already had his needle and thread out and was busy stitching together the wound that had hit just below Bob’s left collar bone, and just inside from his shoulder joint. Which was a blessing, since his buddy always liked showing off his muscles as he lifted weights. The doctor pulled an air syringe from the kit and injected something into Bob’s shoulder. Whatever it was, Bob’s tight-faced look now relaxed. It would be just like his buddy to give Bill a painkiller shot and forego one for himself. He gave Bob a wink and looked back to the watching crowd of captives.

A rustling movement from Stefano above him reminded him the time for chit-chatting with captives was limited. “People, please follow Builder of Joy out from this room and along the hallway to his transport ship
Tall Trees
. You will find your personal belongings inside that ship, thanks to the hover bots who guided you here.” Bill looked over at Bob’s station and saw the doctor now had out a roll of white gauze. “Doctor Li will follow you shortly. Now, I and my teams on the other Collector ships must focus on releasing other captives, returning them home, and then consulting with our leaders over the future of humanity in space. We now have the means to travel to other stars.”

Each of the eight smiled or a gave friendly nod as they stood up. They looked briefly startled as a silvery hover bot dropped down from the ceiling. The Russian fighter pilot paused and looked at him. “Commander MacCarthy, will America share these captured Alien spaceships with other nations of the world?”

Bill wished the doc would hurry up with the bandaging. Still, it made for good politics for it to be seen that an American Marine would accept help from a Chinese doc. No doubt this scene of the captives being greeted and released would soon make it onto YouTube and plenty of Facebook pages. He sighed and took care of business.

“Captain Alexandrovitch, what happens with the six starships captured by me, my wife and our special forces teams is up to our president,” he said. The Chinese doc finished his work, stood up, came over, put down the aid kit by Bill’s seat and headed to the back of the room where everyone else was gathered. “However, my wife Jane Yamaguchi, who is captain of the captured starship
Blue Sky
, earlier transmitted the specifications for the Alcubierre space-time modulus stardrive to the world wide web. So, every nation now has the secret to interstellar travel. Hopefully, nations and peoples will cooperate in making future interstellar trips.”

The Russian pilot gave Bill a polite nod, turned and walked back to where the former captives had gathered before the now open door that gave access to the hallway outside. Some gave him a smile or a quick wave as they followed the brown-furred shape of Builder out and into the hallway. The door closed swiftly as the last captive stepped over its rim.

“That Chinese doc did good work on my shoulder,” Bob said gruffly.

“Good to hear that, Mr. Marine.” Bill looked up at Stefano, who had been his usual calm and patient self as the captives were welcomed, their home towns learned, and reactions shared with him and his crew. He had wanted his three person team to see the people their combat efforts had freed. While Stefano had earlier spoken of using the ‘nuclear option’ to destroy or disable the ship if they were about to be overwhelmed, he knew the man was not a fatalist. In fact, he was one of the happiest optimists Bill had ever met. Stefano just liked being the man in the background, on the watch and alert for any threat anywhere. Now, he sat in the ship captain’s seat and had responsibility for the ship he had named
Seafloat
. “Hey guy, you enjoying that high seat there?”

His fellow SEAL showed a quick smile, then gestured at the large holo of Earth and space that Soft Glow had created for their guests. “I like that view better.” He looked away from Bill and forward, to where his two teammates were looking intently at the control pillars for their work stations. Cassandra at Weapons and Bob at Navigation looked quite busy as they tapped their pillar top, saw a holo result, then continued the self-teaching. “Do you think we will need more than these two crew folks to operate the
Seafloat
? There are six crew on
Blue Sky
, counting you.”