The Mothership (4 page)

“It was working yesterday,” Dan said,
mesmerized by the towering orange column of dust rising above the horizon.

“Typical! Just when you need the bloody
thing, it goes on the blink,” she said irritably, never considering the
satellite the dish was aimed at no longer existed.

He put his arm comfortingly around her
shoulders. “It might burn itself out. I don’t think it’s as bright as it was a
few hours ago.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“We’ll see what it’s like in the morning.
If it’s still bad, we’ll drive down the track and make a call.”

“OK,” she said, watching the orange sky
ominously, wondering if Dan could possibly have been right.
Was it really as
big as a mountain?

* * * *

The sound of Dan’s
dog barking roused Laura from sleep. She lay with her eyes closed, hoping the
dog would shut up, but he kept at it. She turned to see if Dan was awake, only
to find his side of the bed empty. The clock on the bedside table told her it
was a few minutes past four, which made her silently curse the dog for stealing
her last hour of sleep before feeding time. The dog continued barking in a
highly agitated manner, making her wonder what had spooked him.

A croc?
She thought, snapping awake. Was that why Dan had
gotten up?

The rest of the animals were strangely
quiet, particularly the birds. If a croc was loose near the pens, they’d all be
squawking. She heard Dan’s heavy footsteps down the hall, then the crack of his
shotgun being opened and the click of shells being fed into the chamber.

“Is it a croc?” she called from her bed,
sitting up.

“Maybe,” Dan replied as he headed for the
back door. “Stay in the house.” She heard the screen door bang behind him, then
he called the dog. “What is it, Blue? What you got, boy?”

Laura climbed out of bed and hurried to the
window overlooking the track in front of the house. It was quiet and dark
below. Whatever the dog was barking at was at the back of the house. She pulled
her overalls on over her pajamas, quickly laced her boots and ran downstairs.
When she reached the kitchen, she peered through the window. Dan had not bothered
to put the outside lights on, but she could see him standing in front of the
garage, holding his shotgun with both hands, not aiming at anything.

She sighed in relief.
At least it’s not
in the pens!

The research station was more than five
kilometers from the river, but if the wind was right, the scent of the animals
could carry that far. They’d seen crocodiles come inland during the wet season,
when the ground was soaked and the streams were bursting their banks, but it
was rare for one to travel inland this time of year.

She realized Dan was looking up, not down
to where a croc would be lurking. The dog was barking nervously at something
above them, while the birds in the aviary were starting to screech. A shiver of
fear ran down her spine, as she wondered if the fire they’d seen to the west
was approaching.

She flicked on the switch for the outside
flood lights, but the frosted glass in the back door remained a rectangle of
darkness. “Great! Danny, is the generator on?”

When no reply came she tried the hall
light, but it was out too. Laura knew he checked the generator daily, but it
had been old when she bought it and its resistance to the tropics was fading.
She hurried down the hall to the storage cupboard, where she retrieved a large
waterproof flashlight.

She switched it on, momentarily dazzled by
its bright beam. “At least this works!”

The sound of shattering wood filled the
night, as if a truck had ploughed through the house. The thunder of Dan’s
shotgun sounded as she turned toward the back door and saw a brilliant white
light fill the backyard. His shotgun boomed again as Blue’s barking turned to
frightened yelping, which was suddenly cut off in a squeal of pain.

“Dan? Are you alright?” she called
uncertainly as she realized the birds in the aviary had fallen strangely
silent.

The brilliant white light cast sharp
shadows through the windows as it moved toward the house. Metallic rattling in
the kitchen broke the eerie stillness, then the entire house began to shudder.
She approached the kitchen doorway, as the sink, oven and fridge all vibrated
rapidly, fighting to break free of their restraints. The wail of tortured metal
filled the house as the tin roof peeled off, then the bench top shattered as
the sink and oven shot up as if fired out of cannon. They crashed into the
ceiling, hurtling up through the first floor before vanishing skywards.
Luminous white beams poured down through the holes they’d made, forcing her to
shield her eyes as she glimpsed a metal surface gliding slowly above the house.

Laura stepped back into the hall in shock,
staring at the cavities in the kitchen where the oven and sink had been. The
water pipes groaned and twisted up, spraying water across the kitchen, then
tore free and shot up towards the light. A moment later, the microwave flew
skyward, then cutlery burst from the drawers like a shotgun blast, peppering
the ceiling with dozens of small holes.

Laura felt her right hand lift beside her
as the flashlight was pulled upwards. She tried to drag it down, but it was
held in a vice like grip by an unseen force. She wrapped both hands around it,
holding onto it with all her strength, but it lifted her off her feet. When she
was half a meter above the floor, she let go. The flashlight smashed through
the ceiling, then the fridge rocketed up, opening the way for another column of
light to spear down into the kitchen.

The house began to fill with pained
squeals. Nails in the floor boards shuddered violently, working their way up
out of the wood, then shooting up like bullets. She threw herself against the
wall to avoid being speared by them, then felt the wall behind her vibrating.
She stumbled away as electrical wiring whipped out of the walls, slashing long
lines through the plaster before lashing up through the roof. Laura held her
hands over her head as flailing wires lashed the ceiling, showering plaster and
wood chips over her.

She fell into a corner in terror as the
white light winked off and the house fell silent. Laura blinked, temporarily
blinded in the darkness, shaking with fear as she looked up at the shattered
remains of the house. Pieces of torn plaster and splintered wood fell as the
old building groaned, close to collapse. She jumped to her feet and ran toward
the back door as the walls teetered. The door stood crookedly in her path, its
metal hinges and lock missing. She smashed it aside with her shoulder,
staggered out onto the veranda, then dived out into the yard.

Overhead, she sensed rather than saw a dark
mass blocking out the stars. It glided silently to the south, like a black
curtain being pulled aside to reveal the night sky, then it vanished. A short
distance away, the walls of the house folded like collapsing cards and fell in
upon themselves. It was then Laura realized that she was surrounded by ruin.
The garage had collapsed. Its old doors lay flat on the ground, with hinges and
nails torn away. The land cruiser was gone, and the garage roof had a gaping
hole in it where the four-by-four had crashed through it. The generator, and
the other equipment stored in the crumpled machine shed were gone, as was the
satellite dish. All that remained of the metal fuel tank was a pool of burning
gasoline beneath the wreckage of the machine shed. Laura knew she should try to
put the fire out, but there was no firefighting equipment left. She could only
hope the fire breaks around the compound would be enough to stop the flames
spreading.

Behind her, the laboratory split apart and
fell to the ground. Like the house, its corrugated iron roof had vanished, as
had all its metal components. Laura took a few steps toward it, afraid for the
birds and animals in her makeshift hospital, then she saw tiny bodies strewn
throughout the wreckage, shredded by flying metal cages. Several small animals
and birds had somehow survived, and were now picking their way through the
wreckage intent on fleeing into the safety of the forest. On the far side of
the yard, the marsupial sanctuary and reptile house were also wrecked. Even the
old metal water tank that had collected rain water from the building’s roofs
was gone.

Laura surveyed the devastation in shock.
Only the aviary, made of nylon fiber netting, survived.

“Dan? Where are you?” she called with
rising alarm. “Can you hear me, honey?” The silence was chilling as she realized
her husband and the dog had both vanished.

The clatter of shifting wood snapped her
attention to the remnants of the marsupial sanctuary. “Danny, is that you?” she
called as tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

She saw several small animals frantically
crawling and hopping to freedom. They were fleeing for their lives as a slow,
dark form moved through the shadows, effortlessly pushing aside broken beams.

The crocs are out!
she realized in shock, coming to her
senses. Feeding time was only an hour away, which meant they were hungry.

The reptile house held several smaller
crocs under four meters, and a big one over seven. She knew the small crocs,
twice the size of a man, could easily kill her, let alone the big brute which
could crush a horse with a single bite. As she peered apprehensively into the
shadows, a terrified squeal sounded from the wreckage of the marsupial
sanctuary. Several broken planks were hurled clear, whipped by a long powerful
tail during the frenzy of an attack. When silence returned, she heard the
crunching of breaking bones as the big croc devoured its hapless prey. She felt
a pang of sorrow for the smaller animals, but her need to survive told her they
would buy her time. With the kangaroos on the run, she was acutely aware that
she was now the single largest piece of meat in the area.

And the most helpless!

It was something the crocs would soon
figure out. She didn’t understand what had happened, but she knew not a single
piece of metal remained anywhere in the station. That meant no guns, no knives,
no axes, nothing she could use to defend herself with. Now that the strange
light had vanished, the fearful screeches of the birds began. It drew her
attention to the aviary. One look told her the high broad arc of the netting was
still intact.

Thank God!

She jumped to her feet and sprinted towards
the net, running alongside it until she reached the entrance flap. Her fingers
fumbled with the nylon zipper, as she heard the soft pad of footsteps behind
her. She slid the zipper halfway down, then dived in and rolled away from the
entrance. A long scaled shape surged out of the darkness, charging into the
aviary netting. The crocodile’s snout came within an arm’s length of Laura
before the netting snagged tight, holding it at bay. She saw a flash of teeth
as the croc snapped its mighty jaws closed, then it swung its head from side to
side, frantically trying to force its way through. It was one of the smaller
animals, but more than able to rip her to pieces. It hung for a moment against
the netting, then turned away in frustration before sullenly creeping off into
the shadows. Laura waited until its tail was pointing toward her, then she
darted forward and zipped the half open entrance flap closed.

She opened the inner flap and stepped into
the aviary proper. She knew the crocs could force their way under the netting
if they found the right place, so she ran to the rope ladder hanging from one
of the tallest trees and started to climb. The ladder led into the tree tops
where a camouflaged observation platform had been built to watch the birds. As
she neared the blind, she saw the nails had been ripped from its supports, and
its floor boards had fallen. Only the camouflage tarpaulin remained, strung
over nylon ropes. She pulled herself up onto a branch, using the tarpaulin for
support, then looked down. Outside the net, a long reptilian form crept through
the shadows, searching for a way in.

Laura wiped the tears from her cheeks as
she looked to the west where the horizon glowed a burnt orange. It was unlike
any bushfire she’d ever seen. Unaware it was the glow of a great metal hull
cooling after its fiery entry into the atmosphere, she wondered if somehow it
was connected to the destruction of her station and of Dan’s disappearance. Her
eyes became mesmerized by that distant radiance, by its rich color and ebbing
intensity.

It was a hypnotic spell that lasted until
dawn.

Shortly before
sunrise, a US Air Force C-17 skimmed the tranquil waters of the Gulf of
Carpentaria on approach to the Gove Peninsula. To avoid detection, it had shut
off all electromagnetic emissions while still five hundred kilometers out,
forcing the pilots to fly and navigate manually. It seemed unnecessarily
dangerous, especially at night and at such low altitude, yet the flight crew
followed their instructions to the letter, never knowing the reason why.

The C-17 crossed the coast south of the
tiny town of Nhulunbuy, flying just meters above the tree tops before touching
down at Gove airstrip. What had once been a major World War Two airbase, named
for a Royal Australian Air Force pilot killed in action in 1943, was now a gray
sealed runway surrounded by stark red earth and lush green forest. The big jet
taxied onto a rectangular apron in front of a small modern terminal building,
where a four-wheel-drive army truck waited. Instead of heading towards the
gravel track that ran southeast towards the crash site over two hundred and
fifty kilometers away, the truck turned north towards Gove Harbor. Every vehicle
that had ventured down the track since the impact had vanished, leaving Beckman
in no doubt, the seven hundred kilometer long Central Arnhem Road was no longer
under terrestrial control.