Silent Star, page 11
On its current course and at its current speed, in three days the UNOB would pass Earth just inside the orbit of the moon, quickly becoming a diminishing threat. Whether it had ever been a real threat would depend on what it was—alien artifact, or an asteroid with peculiar features that triggered anthropocentric thinking.
“Visuals are coming through now,” a voice said over the speaker.
Seconds later the first image came in, taken as the Interceptor drifted up to the UNOB. Half expecting what they saw, they nevertheless gasped. The flat black object was symmetrical, with a smooth surface. Three of its eight arms could be seen and they were jointed. The pods and tubes attached to the arms were clearly manufactured.
“Well doctors,” General Knox said over the speaker. “It doesn’t take a Ph.D. to see we have visitors.”
“That is premature,” Dr. White said quickly, then paused, looking for permission.
With his customary red power tie, White was neatly dressed, looking like a prosperous account executive for Merrill-Lynch, not a psychologist. On either side of him, the dowdy Chin and rumpled Allegheny better fit the image of members of academia. Nodding, Baum gave White permission to continue.
“The UNOB could be completely automated, gathering data as it passes through solar systems. It could be nothing more than a sophisticated version of a Mariner probe.”
“I agree,” Chin said, twirling a pen in her fingers. “That would be the logical way to engage in distant exploration. As we’ve learned from the psychological breakdown of the crew of the Interceptor, interstellar distances are too great for living beings to endure.”
“The crew of the Interceptor have achieved their primary goal,” Dr. Cattell pointed out. “They did not breakdown.”
“I disagree,” Dr. White said. “And I am better qualified—we are better qualified to make that judgment.”
Dr. Baum turned to the engineers who bubbled with the excitement of encountering alien technology. On the wall images jumped in time, the UNOB coming closer and closer until it was nothing but a dark surface.
“Here’s another view,” the technician providing the feed said, interrupting the discussion.
An exterior shot showed the UNOB surface and the base of one of the arms. The arm seemed to blend seamlessly into the surface. Again the engineers exclaimed like excited children on Christmas morning.
“It looks organic,” Chauncy Wilhite said. “Any chance I could get Scooter’s take on this?”
“No,” Dr. Baum said firmly. “Captain Linkletter will contact us once they have made entry and confirmed there is no threat.”
“This might be helpful,” the technician said, and the image changed again.
An image from a helmet camera showed the inside of the docking chute but the bouncing camera made it hard to follow. As the images jumped forward in time, Dr. Baum could see the crew cutting into the UNOB.
“I don’t see the psychological breakdown,” Dr. Cattell said. “They seem to be functioning as a team.”
“On the surface,” Dr. Allegheny said. “The crew’s juvenile behavior was symptomatic of severe stress. While they may have temporarily suppressed it, it will find an outlet.”
The images stopped.
“The rest is data,” the technician said over the speaker.
“Distribute the data,” Baum ordered.
The engineers would get the bulk, the psychologists and medical personnel most of the rest. Each team would have hours of data to comb through.
“Before we disperse, we have a recommendation,” Dr. White said, nervously straightening his tie.
Baum leaned forward, noticing Chin twirl her pencil and Allegheny avoid his eyes.
“A proposal?” Baum probed.
“For the health of the mission, we recommend a leadership change,” Dr. White said.
“What?” Dr. Cattell said, starting to rise.
Dr. Baum pushed her back into her seat.
“Captain Linkletter disregarded every recommendation sent to him in the outward journey,” Dr. White said. “He continued the steroid regimen against repeated warnings, he ignored the protocols designed to produce community by creating private space which he raffled off, and a member of his crew threatened the life of one of the engineers.”
“The designer of the toilet,” Dr. Allegheny added.
The engineers chuckled.
“This is not a laughing matter,” Dr. White said. “The success of the mission depends on competent leadership. The crew has lacked the leadership they need.”
“Yet, at this moment they are inside the UNOB,” Dr. Cattell said.
“Entry is when leadership is critical,” Dr. White said.
“The safe return of the crew is also our concern,” Dr. Chin added, dropping her pen. Quickly, she picked it up and began twirling again.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” Dr. Baum said, starting to rise.
“General Knox,” Dr. White appealed.
“It’s not my call,” General Knox said. “At this point I know what I need to know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we have weapons to finish installing.”
“It’s my decision,” Dr. Baum said, holding back his anger. “Captain Linkletter is in command until I decide differently.”
As he left the conference room he heard Dr. White say, “We all agree that Linkletter is exhibiting symptoms of a narcissistic personality disorder. Dr. Baum, you put a megalomaniac in charge of a critical NASA mission. Linkletter believes he is omnipotent, routinely ignores legitimate authority and rejects the advice of competent experts. At least we can be thankful that the UNOB is automated. I shudder to think what would happen if Linkletter and his band of unstable mercenaries actually encountered another intelligent species.”
Chapter 19: First Encounter
UNOB
Inbound
Between Venus and Earth
Three of the aliens were tall—at least as tall as Gains, Link’s biggest man. They wore environment suits but unlike any suit in Link’s limited experience. The suits shimmered, as if refracting the ambient light. The suits fit tight, showing a bulky upper body and legs shorter than a human’s. The suit form-fit the head as well, blurring facial features. The heads were large, even blocky. The large aliens’ arms were long, especially compared to the shorter legs, as if designed for a different body. Each of the big aliens carried an unmistakable weapon. One hand fit in a cone at one end of the weapon and the other hand held a pistol grip. The weapon was longer than the XM8 carbines that Link’s team carried and the barrel was thicker. While the design of the device cried out “weapon,” it was the way the aliens carried them that confirmed their purpose. Hunched over, legs spread wide, standing back to back, the aliens swept the cavern, weapons pointed.
The fourth alien was different--shorter and stocky. It too wore an environment suit but the suit looked more like an exoskeleton with each leg, arm, foot, and hand, framed with metal rods, jointed for movement. Underneath, the exoskeleton was a shimmering fabric like that worn by the armed aliens. The head was almost indistinguishable from the shoulders, and framed in metal.
Acting like a security team, the armed aliens spread out, continuing to sweep the room with their weapons, despite the fact it was clearly empty. The fourth alien waited patiently, fiddling with a device in his hands. Link turned to Westbrook, signaling him to turn down the power on his transmitter.
“Find a way back to the Interceptor,” Link said, whispering, even though they could not be heard. “Find Riley before he stumbles back in here.”
“How?” Westbrook asked. “The aliens are between me and the corridor.”
“Go down to the lower level. Gains and Riley came back a different route. If you have to, crawl through the rodent tunnels.”
Westbrook nodded and left through the stairwell. Link watched the aliens, learning what he could. He noticed the larger aliens were hunched, although it seemed to be a normal posture. Now the short alien peeled back his helmet, revealing a hairless speckled mass of loose flesh. From the back, Link could see no ears, just freckled green skin. The resolution on the wall screen was so fine that Link could count the brown blotches. Now the alien turned and Link saw an ear hole and then black eyes set in deep sockets. If there was a jaw, it was lost in a mass of loose skin. Mesmerized, Link almost missed the alien moving toward the control room. Link had no chance of making it to the stairwell and dove between the far control panel and the back wall.
Peeking around the end, Link saw the door open, the shorter alien waiting while two of the big ones stepped in and began a slow sweep. Link ducked back. There was no point in yelling “freeze” and then ordering them to drop their weapons. Link also had to assume the aliens carried weapons for a reason. Listening intently, Link planned his move, picturing the position of each alien and which to shoot first. Then Link heard a high-pitched squeak. Risking a peek, he saw the shorter alien push past his security team and storm into the control room. With much gesticulation and squeaking, the alien pointed at the modified control panel and the diagnostic laptop attached to it. Briefly distracted, the armed aliens stopped the sweep. Now the shorter alien stomped on the floor with his exoskeleton framed leg. A rodent soon appeared, running on all fours, nose to the ground. It was Black-Ears. The alien and the rodent exchanged unintelligible sounds and then the shorter alien tapped on the control panel and a series of images flashed across the wall. Black-Ears skulked back to the grate and slipped inside.
Suddenly, the alien stopped the display with a tap of his metal-framed finger. The image showed the Interceptor docked with the UNOB. With croaks and squeals he sent two of the guards off, the third taking a position in the door to the cavern. With the image of the Interceptor frozen on the left side of the wall display, the alien called up images from all over the ship. Link watched the motions of the alien and studied the characters across the bottom of the screen. On the wall screen, views of corridors and compartments flew by almost faster than Link could make sense of them. Then, with another tap of a metallic finger, the flickering images stopped, this time showing an exterior shot. Link could see the Interceptor just over the horizon and then at the bottom of the screen a blurry, bobbing, image. The alien tapped the panel and the camera pulled back, giving a wider shot. Gains’ helmet came into view and then Ramirez’s. Tapping furiously, the alien tried to get a better angle on the image but there were limits and the best image it could get was of bobbing helmets. Demonstrating a human emotion—frustration—the alien slapped the console, the metal framing its fingers clacking loudly, startling the guard who spun, weapon ready.
Now the alien touched something at the top of his suit and spoke again. Tapping the console, an image of the other two aliens appeared. They paused as he spoke. Then the aliens split up. Link knew what was happening but unsure of how to stop it. When they first entered the UNOB he had been prepared to meet the enemy with his small force concentrated. Now, however, his force was dispersed, weakened, and while they outnumbered the aliens, the alien abilities and weaponry were unknown. Contact was only seconds away now, however and Link had to act, and act alone.
Link turned up the power on his transmitter, making sure Scooter was getting video. Now Link stood, flicking the rifle to auto. The shorter alien continued to tap on the console and the guard faced the cavern. Heart pounding, his mouth dry, Link paused, reluctant to shoot any creature in the back. Again, he thought about yelling “freeze” and “drop your weapons” but knew it would be pointless. The shorter alien solved his problem.
Images continued to cycle on one side of the screen and the alien suddenly stabbed out with a finger, stopping the images and then backing them up. There on the wall was an image of the control room, shot from behind Link. Link was on the wall screen, shown from the waist up, holding his weapon on the alien, who had his back to Link, staring at the image on the wall. Like a house of mirrors, the image of Link pointing his rifle at the alien was repeated infinitely, in exquisite detail, over and over, image within image, on the wall.
Slowly, the alien turned, now demonstrating two more human emotions—shock and fear. With deep hollows for sockets, its eyes were nothing but black holes, but still Link read the fear. Slowly, the fleshy mouth drooped open and the alien gasped and then panted. Now face-to-face, neither Link nor the alien knew what to do.
“Freeze,” Link said.
The shorter alien flicked his wrist and something whizzed by Link’s head. Link fired and ducked. The alien went down at the same time his guard spun with the speed of an NFL lineman and charged into the room, firing and bellowing. The alien carried an energy weapon and red light flashed over Link’s shoulder. Falling and firing, Link saw two rounds hit, staggering the big alien but only slowing it. Crawling now, Link wriggled the length of the panel, reaching the corner just as the console behind him blew apart, several splinters sticking in Link’s back. Link curled into a ball as another chunk came apart. Now there was precious little left to hide Link. Knowing it was move or die time, Link, reached around the console, firing blind, trying to drive the alien to cover. Streaks of light flashed by, Link throwing himself flat behind the remains of the console behind him. A fraction of a second later his former hiding spot exploded. Now Link sat up, firing through holes in the console. He hit the alien, staggering it, but still it would not fall. Then there was a flash of movement and Riley tackled the alien from behind, knocking its weapon free. Getting to his feet, Link hurried around the console but it was over quickly. Pinned by Riley’s weight, the alien twisted to get free but Riley jammed a knife into its throat. Like a human, it gasped for breath, the gasps becoming wet and then turning to gurgles, and then it exhaled long and slow and was dead.
“What did I just kill?” Riley said, getting to his feet. “It looks like an extra from The Planet of the Apes.”
“There’s a different one over there,” Link said.
Westbrook came in, dismayed.
“You had to kill them?” Westbrook asked.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Link said.
“Sorry, sir,” Westbrook said. “It’s just that we finally meet another species created in God’s image and we kill it.”
“I thought we were made in God’s image,” Riley said.
“God is love, Riley,” Westbrook said.
“This wasn’t a love-in,” Riley said.
“It wasn’t murder, either,” Link said, worrying about Westbrook’s reliability. “It was self defense.”
“It’s a shame, whatever it is,” Westbrook said, downcast.
Riley pulled splinters from Link’s back. Some had penetrated the body armor to the skin and Link winced as they were pulled.
“There’s two more of them,” Link said, rolling the alien over with his foot. In the light gravity the body turned easily. Blood oozed through holes in its front and back. Red blood. Link hurried to the shorter alien who was leaking greenish blood.
“Scooter,” Link called. “Scooter, are you there?”
“Quiet, sir,” Scooter called back, barely above a whisper. “One of the aliens is coming through the hatch. What should I do? Shoot it?”
Link thought fast. Scooter was poorly trained and indecisive. A second of hesitation would be fatal. Even if he did manage to shoot one of the big aliens, one or two rounds would not stop it. Either the suits were part body armor or their bodies were made of tougher stuff than humans. Scooter had only one chance.
“Fix things, Scooter,” Link radioed.
“What?”
“Flit around, repair things. Ignore the alien. Whatever you do, don’t show any emotion.”
“That’s your plan?” Scooter whispered. “It’s crazy.”
“Do it,” Link ordered. “What about Ramirez and Gains?”
“Still outside.”
“Patch me through to them,” Link said.
“The alien’s almost here.”
There was a click, static, and then another click.
“Gains? Ramirez?” Link called, stepping over the alien to the console. Closing his eyes he pictured what the alien had done and now tapped the console.
“We’re here, sir,” Ramirez called back.
“You may be getting company,” Link said, tapping another symbol.
The images began to flash across the screen.
“Company?”
“An alien. I don’t have time to explain but we’ve had an encounter and they are hostile. You can’t go back to the Interceptor because there’s one inside.”
“What about Scooter?” Gains called.
“Gains, look over there,” Ramirez said suddenly.
Link stabbed the console and then tried two symbols before he backed the images up to the exterior shot. Ramirez and Gains appeared on the wall, halfway back to the Interceptor.
“It’s here,” Gains said. “We’ve got nothing but tools with us, Captain.”
“It’s seen us,” Ramirez said. “What do we do?”
“Run,” Link said.
Ramirez and Gains turned to each other, shrugged and then with long, slow-motion moves, loped toward the UNOB horizon. As they receded toward the rim, the back of the pursuing alien, its weapon ready, temporarily blocked the image.
Chapter 20: Invader
UNOB
Inbound
Between Venus and Earth
Grabbing a small tool kit, Scooter released a server from its rack. Using a screwdriver, he disconnected the leads. Sweat trickled down his forehead, cheek, back--everywhere. From the corner of his eye he saw movement—the alien—the huge alien. The alien froze, watching Scooter. Hiding his fear, Scooter reconnected the leads, pushed the server back into the rack, and then turned the power on. Then he made a show of attaching the little toolbox to his belt, and pulled himself to the ceiling and hooked his limp legs in a handhold. Flat against the ceiling, he faced the alien. Scooter nearly fainted as the alien pointed its weapon at Scooter’s head.
