An Alien Rescue (46 page)

The Grey, on the other hand, had
fully regained consciousness, visually checking the control panel, seeing it was successful. He wanted his reward of freedom for his efforts and his pains. He scoured the area and found what he was looking for, a screen to communicate with the humans. He scribbled his hieroglyphic style of print, explaining he only wished to help them conclude their mission and would they take him away with them when it was completed. He wanted to leave the Empire; he wished to help the Council of Six. He had lots of important data that could be of use to them. He wanted to survive. He was showing emotions.

Belinda wiped away a tear that was starting to show, Scott gave her a hug before Phyllis began to stir. It began with rapid eye movements then
twitches from her limbs. Her eyes rolled beneath the lids before cracking opening and her legs bent at the knees. “Wow,” she said, as if she had experienced something fantastic.

Both Belinda and Scott looked at each other, before saying in unison, “Wow?” But before anyone could say anything else, the Grey placed a hand on one of Belinda’s shoulders to indicate he wanted to communicate. Scott saw it as a threat and slammed a fist into his face. The poor thing literally flew across the room with the force of Scott’s punch, following an almost straight trajectory as if it had been shot from
a cannon. It smacked hard into a wall making a soft thud as if made of mud. It seemed to stick for a second before sliding downwards, leaving a wet trail. The wetness was pale coloured, consisting of the slime they had all seen coming from the shot-to-pieces Greys on Mars when Mike had done the killing thing with his so-called babe.

Belinda looked at the scene, seething with anger. She turned on Scott like a venomous snake, intending to hold nothing back. She exploded with such fury he backed away to lessen the noise of her contempt and to avoid any physical punches she might consider throwing. Although he knew she was beyond dishing out any sort of physical punishment, he believed she was inflamed enough to try it. He had killed the poor sod, the bug-eyed thing that, by Belinda’s testimony, had gently placed a hand on her shoulder in a friendly sort of gesture. When she had finished giving him a good scolding, he fired back as best he could while trying to
save face with his destructive behaviour. “How do you know he wasn’t gonna harm you? It looked like he was going to, if you ask me,” he said loudly, but without making eye contact.

She turned round, looking back to the area where the Grey had been shuffling around prior to Phyllis stirring. She approached the screen where he had been standing and read what was
written. A bomb couldn’t have exploded as much as Belinda did when she read his message, with the detonation sending a shock wave throughout the lab. She was absolutely furious with Scott and felt like grabbing Phyllis to get out of the base and head for home. She verbally laid into him, not allowing him an opportunity to speak in defence. He didn’t try to say anything in his defence because he knew he was a guilty as sin.

“I know,” he eventually managed to say. “I screwed-up big style. I’m sorry.”

Belinda’s eyebrows were down and almost meeting in the centre. If any woman had looked as if murder was on her mind, it was her. “I could kill you,” she said through clenched teeth and before she could stop the words. This was the point of realisation for her, to feel the incredible power of hatred, enough hate to kill someone. It was completely absorbing and engulfing in its destructive intent. The regretfully said words did something to her, they gave her some kind of a nudge which made her tilt, like a pinball machine with a frantic ball-bearing thundering around inside her skull hammering the heck out of whatever it collided with. Scott raised his line of sight to see her physically sway on her feet. He rushed across just in time to catch her. He held her close, looking at her fair complexion and long eyelashes. Her lips were slightly open and her breathing was heavy.

“Phew,” he said
, while feeling her weight. “You don’t weigh very much and you’re quite a doll, aren’t you? I’m really sorry.”

“Hey! Never mind the kissing and the hugging, you two. What about me?”

His eyes lit up with recognition as he turned to see Phyllis. “Hey, doll. You’re alive… Ahem, I meant to say, you’re awake. Sorry. Thank goodness.” His arms raised Belinda back to a standing position. She was still out for the count, although there was some growling coming from her.

“What’s wrong with Belinda?” Phyllis asked while forcing herself to sit upright on the altar’s edge without using her hands.

Pleased to see she was alright, Scott looked from Phyllis to Belinda, returning his gaze to see if the growler was recovering. “She’s had a bit of a fright,” he replied, trying to play down what he had done.

“What kind of a fright? What has happened?” Phyllis demanded to know the details.

He hesitated for as long as he could, making sounds as if he was about to answer before falling silent again. How could he explain everything that had just happened while Phyllis was gone with the fairies? And just when he was about to try and answer her, Belinda roused back into consciousness.

“Oh, thank god you’re okay. I was really worried about you.” He said the words with concern in his voice. Phyllis remained quiet to see what events were happening. She was convinced there was something serious going on by Scott’s smile. For a moment, Belinda’s eyes glazed-over and her pupils dilated. Then, with suddenness, they refocused on the man who was looking into
her
eyes, with her complexion turning a shade of fiery red. He suspected another explosion was imminent and he was close enough to be on the fatalities list. Her eyes rolled slightly before fully focusing. Her normal appearance suggested she was in control again and the feeling she had of killing him had passed; or so he hoped. He checked his gun was holstered, as was her own little ball of lightning. “Phew,” he released. “I was worried for a moment. I thought I had lost you.”

Belinda waited; she needed to get her mental act together again before trying to respond to this… Killer. Her first attempts to stand unaided proved problematic, with her second a little better. On her third she was successful, staggering across to the altar where Phyllis sat patiently while observing the goings on.

“I’m honestly sorry, Belinda. I thought… No, that’s not correct. I
firmly believed
the Grey was about to harm you and I couldn’t allow that to happen.”

A deep silence ensued. Phyllis remembered the Grey, but where was he, she wondered before the sight of him met her eyes as she scoured their surroundings. He looked as if he had drifted off to sleep while leaning against the far wall, but the slime trail that ran down the wall from above his head hinted at something totally different. She released a long sigh. “Is he dead?”

“Yes,” Scott replied.

“He wanted to help us and Scott killed him,” Belinda erupted before completely regaining her composure. Phyllis didn’t know quite how to respond because she had missed the chain of events. She suspected there must be more to this than meets the eye. Scott had already apologised, saying he was sorry, but he had been convinced Belinda was in danger; so he struck out with the best intensions. She said her thoughts to the pair of them, trying to get them to talk it over and sort it out. They were still in Grey territory and their lives would be in danger if they had an argument they were unable to
conclude. Then she decided to try and bond them together. “Look,” she cried out, holding her foam-coated hands high in the air. I can’t feel them, but it looks like the same foam I had on Mars; Mike too.”

“Mike!” Belinda said loudly.

“Yes, the same Mike who gave his life for us to survive. You do remember him, then?” Phyllis decided to use Mike’s name to instil some level of camaraderie among them.

Belinda relaxed, recalling the big hairy man who gave his life and his freedom to let them escape. He had been a brave person who put them before himself. Altruistic to the extreme.
He won’t be forgotten
, she thought. She looked at the Grey, wishing things had turned out differently. “It’s just that this Grey helped to heal you, Phyllis, and he wanted to escape with us.”

Phyllis looked at her hands and nodded. Then said, “We had to force him to help though. He didn’t exactly do it through the goodness of his heart, if he has a heart.”

Scott listened with interest, but stayed quiet. Phyllis was an ally. Belinda, on the other hand said, “I know you are correct in what you say, but he could have told us so much about what the Empire is planning and what they have already done.”

Scott burst in with an idea. “We could catch another and take
him
prisoner. Then we could ask the same questions.”

If looks could kill, Belinda was giving them and Scott was on the receiving end. She turned away for a moment, wondering if she had heard him correctly. Looking back, she said, “And how would you stop the Grey from communicating with others while you held him prisoner?”

“Easy,” he replied with a grin. “I would knock him unconscious.”

Both women looked at the body of the Grey, lying perfectly still at the base of the wall with small globules of slime slipping down behind.

Scott thought he had fallen into a trap, conceding his failure to come up with a reasonable answer. “Yeah, okay. It’s a stupid idea.”

“We had one chance at this and we lost it. I guess it may happen again, who can say?” Belinda tried to drop the subject and move on to more pressing engagements like locating Frell and Drang.

Scott was about to suggest he return to the corridor while they remained where they were, especially while Phyllis’s hands were out of action, when a moaning sound was heard from across the room. All three turned towards where the sound came from, with three pairs of eyes focussing on… the Grey.

“Holy shit, he’s still alive,” shouted Scott.

“We never checked to be sure. We just assumed…
I
assumed he was dead after the impact and when I saw the slime on the wall like in the Martian tunnels.” Belinda spoke the words while she hurriedly approached the stricken Grey.

Phyllis slid off the altar, thanking the stars she hadn’t unknowingly become a sacrificial lamb for some obscure Grey god,
asking, “Is he dead or not?”

Belinda knel
t beside the body, noticing the vile smell that seemed to permeate the area. His head raised itself slightly and rocked from one side to the other as if to check it was still attached. With Scott’s help, it sat upright, placing a hand behind its skull to feel for damage. Scott had a good look. “It looks like a flesh wound, nothing near as bad as we thought.”

Phyllis was standing still, patiently inspecting the ends of her arms, trying
her hardest to see through the foam. There was nothing to see or to feel as she decided to give up trying. The Grey saw her looking at the operation, knowing what she needed to know. He attempted to stand, but felt too dizzy. With help from his two assistants, he was encouraged to stand with words of sorrow and hands that took most of his weight, which wasn’t much more than a feather-filled pillow. He released himself from his helpers’ hands and staggered across to the screen again. He wrote the hands would be operational after a few earth hours. When the feeling returned into her nerve endings, he added, the hands could be uncovered and used. Belinda relayed the information to her anxious companions, smiling gratefully as she gave the news. Scott released a loud yahoo of a shout, before realising he had done it. “Sorry,” he said.

Belinda’s eyebrows began to lower again with Scott expecting another explosion. “Cut the crap,” she said to him. He had been expecting a telling off for shouting so cutting the crap was like getting off lightly. It puzzled him though. “Whad’ya mean by telling me to cut the crap? What crap are you talking about?”

Belinda’s brows parted and she lightened up. “If I hear you say you’re sorry one more time I will personally knock you against that wall then rip
your
head off. Do I make myself clear, soldier?”

Her words and sense of humour made him want to laugh, but there was something about it that made him nervous enough not to say anything. Belinda watched him squirm in agony. She had finally got him to be silent when he could so easily have spoken. She let out a rapturous laugh as she watched him twitch. Then he knew she had been playing with him, feeling thankful and relieved they were a team once again while the Grey looked on wondering what was so amusing. Phyllis stepped into the limelight
, saying, “Right, as we have got our own house back in order, can we get back on track and locate our missing friends.” Her words drilled a wide gaping hole through her comrades in arms. The thoughts of their mission had been misplaced for a moment, the reason that had brought them to this submerged base in the first place. The feeling of forgetting about them for such a brief spell came as a form of relief, even for such a short time. But Phyllis was right, they needed to get themselves back on track.

Scott spun round, locat
ing the Grey, then Belinda. “Can you ask him where Frell and Drang are?”

Belinda nodded th
en asked. The Grey understood he couldn’t respond with telepathic replies or information so used the screen to once again convey the answer to their question. Belinda watched and read the words as they appeared. She pointed once or twice, questioning whatever he had written. His replies seemed to satisfy her and she gave a loud, “Yes!” just like any human would have who had just scored the maximum score of one hundred and eighty in a game of darts. Scott looked at Phyllis, who in turn looked back at him with wonder for an expression.