Resolve (Lost Fagare Ship Book 1) Page 4

  The claw that had pulled Jim away now grabbed Chris and plucked him away from Melissa. Bobby gave up on the console and jumped up to pull at her boot clad foot, but the device kept her beyond his reach. The claws made quick work of depositing the other two into more beds and then doing the same to Bobby. Like Jim, straps immobilized them in preparation for what sinister act he couldn’t imagine.

  The claws rose back up into the ceiling, but tangles of wires dropped down to replace them. Four separate bundles descended from above the beds where they had been made prisoner. From as thin as strands of hair to as thick as power cables, they moved about like snakes.

  The smaller ones landed on his scalp and burrowed into his skin. Where they pierced his flesh, his body burned with white hot pain and then went numb. He could tell they were still there when he moved the muscles in his face, but otherwise felt no pain from the intrusion.

  Melissa screamed and he knew she was meeting the same fate. Chris let forth a stream of obscenities. Jim fought against his bindings. This trip was his fault. He should have let Bobby call the authorities instead of insisting on a joyride. Without knowing what they were doing, they’d somehow activated some sort of security system and now they’d be killed on a secret undergrown moon base thousands of miles from home. Nobody would ever know what happened to them. Heck, it would probably be a couple weeks before anyone even realized they were missing.

  The thicker cable rolled and coiled over his body like a boa constrictor. As it moved, the metallic strand glowed and flashed in a series of colors. The colors slowed when it reached his left leg. It wrapped twice around the spot where he had broken his leg in high school. The flashing slowed until settling on a pale blue. The cable tightened around his leg until the bone snapped. Jim howled in pain. It felt just as it had twenty years earlier. He was brought back to the night of the fight.

  Being a wrestler made him somewhat immune to the taunts and abuse of his teammates that roamed the halls like a pack of wolves. Winning state championships was all that mattered to the school and the teachers who opposed them were quickly cowed like the rest of the student body.

  For months, Jim did nothing. The bullying didn’t affect him personally like it did the few friends he’d made in school since being transferred mid-semester after yet another move to yet another foster home. But when he’d turned the corner after math class and found a group of his teammates surrounding a freshman hoisted upside down over a locker door, her feet tied together and her dress flip over her head, he snapped.

  He barreled into the team captain and sent him into the lockers. In their surprise, the others dropped the freshman. She struggled to her feet and tried to run. The laces pulled taut, and she tumbled again. The boys started to reach but she kicked the sneakers off. She threw them at the head of the lead attacker and escaped.

  All this barely registered in Jim’s head as he grappled with the captain. The older boy had twenty pounds on him and a longer reach to boot, but adrenaline kept him in the fight much longer than anyone would have expected. Realizing that their plaything had escaped, the rest of the team turned their attention to the fight and pulled Jim off their leader.

  The captain stood and wiped blood away from his nose with the back of his hand. He looked at the streak of red and snarled. Jim tried to remember the moves the coach had taught him to break a hold, but four on one had never been part of his training. Immobilized, the captain punched him in the gut. He exhaled sharply and heaved to get air back in his lungs. Jim managed to kick one leg free and give the boy holding him a black eye in the process.

  “Hey, winter formal’s coming up. I can’t get my picture taken like this.” The boy caught hold of his leg again and gave it a twist. Jim gritted his teeth against the pain. He closed his eyes for a second and when he reopened them, the captain had bent down and was right in his face.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Bromley. Coach thought you had talent. But your little stunt here just cost you your spot. Shame about your accident that made you quit the team.” He spit in Jim’s face.

  “What accident?” Jim didn’t have a chance to press further. The captain lifted his foot, almost high enough to bring his knee to his chin. With an explosive thrust, he brought his cross-trainer down into Jim’s shin and cracked his tibia in half.

  Jim howled. He felt himself being moved, but couldn’t bring himself to care until he was plunged into darkness and heard a door click behind him. He dragged himself across the floor towards where the door must be, knocking over a bottle in the process. Bleach stung his hands as he made his way through the growing puddle. Once at the door, he found it locked and could do no more than bang at it and holler. It took three hours before the janitor found him and he was rushed to the hospital.

  Back in the present, the pain ceased as suddenly as it had come on. Without being able to say quite how he knew, the realization struck him that the probe had repaired the newly rebroken bone. For the first time in years, he couldn’t feel the dull ache from where the clinic hadn’t quite set it correctly.

  The thinner strands burrowed deeper into his skull. Jim imagined them boring through his cranium and entering his brain. Why had the machine healed his old injuries if it was just going to scramble his grey matter?

  Images danced in front of his eyes, too fast to make any sort of sense from. Scraps of language, no tongue he was familiar with.

  Then it stopped. All of the wires retracted and the bindings popped free. Jim sat up and rubbed his wrists where the straps had chafed. The others were in similar positions.

  “Iieadat tashghil almatluba. Epanekkinisi apaileitai. Endurraesa er krafist. Reinicio Requerio.” A computerized voice rattled off phrases in quick succession. One sounded a bit like Spanish, but Jim had never bothered to learn enough of the language to be sure. “Trebuyetsa perezagruzka. Reboot required. Xuyao chibgxin qidong.”

  “Did that just say ’reboot required’?” Chris asked.

  “Yeah.” Jim nodded. “Maybe we have to reset their computer?”

  The lights blinked out at once and the voice went silent. Jim fished out his cell phone and turned on the built-in flashlight. The others followed suit and four dim beams of light illuminated the once bright chamber. He scanned the room and saw that the door they’d entered through still created a blank spot in the wall.

  “Should we head back to the ship?” Melissa asked. Jim noticed a wispy vapor trail escape her lips and they stood in the dark. Bobby gave a little shiver.

  Jim nodded. “We’ve lost power and heat. I don’t want to find out what this looks like if we lose air as well.”

  The progress was slower this time, with no lights to illuminate their path. Jim stumbled but caught himself. He hadn’t noticed the decline heading towards the lab, but he could feel the hill in the dark.

  Jim’s phone chirped periodically to warn him of a dying battery. Melissa’s was already out. He supposed dark could mean the difference between life and death.

  As they went, the air grew colder. Jim couldn’t see her, but he could hear Melissa’s teeth chattering. “You want my shirt?”

  “Your t-shirt isn’t going to be much warmer than mine.”

  Jim frowned, knowing it was true. “Well, hold on to me or something. The ship can’t be that much further.

  As if on cue, the tunnel ahead seemed lighter. That perhaps wasn’t the right word. It didn’t provide any illumination to their journey, but the walls in front felt less dark. Rounding a curve, dim light peaked around the next corner, casting the section in dark greys instead of the inky black that seemed to suck the light out of everything.

  Jim ran, tripping again. He pushed himself to his feet and sprinted towards the light. He took the turn too fast and bounced into the wall. A single spot light over the still open cargo bay didn’t shine as brightly as the sun through a cloudy day, but it was enough to force his hand over eyes that had become accustomed to the darkness.

  When they reached the ship, they clambered int
o the bay. Bobby took up the rear and slammed his hand on the button that controlled the door. As the hatch slid shut, Jim shouted. “Heat. Ship, if you understand us, crank up the heat before we all freeze to death.”

  The ventilation fans picked up at his request. Melissa wrapped her arms around his chest. Her whole body shook as she tried to use his body heat to warm up. He drew his own arms around her. To either side, Bobby and Chris tried to make themselves as small as possible. “Come on, you too. Group huddle till we warm up.”

  “I vote we go somewhere warm next, like the sun,” Melissa said. He shot her a sympathetic smile. Her skin still felt cold, but wasn’t as blue as it had been a few minutes earlier. They just might get through this, after all.

  “Let’s go back to Earth,” Chris suggested.

  Jim nodded. “Let’s get out of this place.” His scalp itched and just thinking about the lab made his skin crawl. The others didn’t seem to be much better. Bobby still hadn’t spoken. He slid beside his operator. “You okay?”

  Bobby just stared in front of them as they crossed the ship. Jim snapped his fingers in front of him. “Huh? Sorry. Just thinking.”

  “I get it. That was messed up. Did you get flashes of images and sounds, too?”

  He nodded. “When I was a kid, I was in car accident. I don’t like to talk about it, but they amputated half of my foot. Now I can feel it again. Not some phantom itch. I can wiggle my toes and feel my sock move.”

  It was Jim’s turn to nod. “Broke a leg in high school. That thing snapped it in two and then healed it right.”

  “So, if they can do that, what did they do to our brains? Did they think we were aliens and ‘fix’ our brains to be more like theirs?” Bobby scratched his shaved head.

  “I don’t know, Bob. You going to be okay to fly? Or you want to see if Melissa can handle it?”

  “No, I’ve got this. I need something to take my mind off it.” He stepped up to his terminal and the chair wrapped around him once more.

  The others took their positions and Melissa pecked at her display. “Okay, course set for home.” Bobby gunned it and they sped out of the hanger and into space. Nothing prevented them from leaving, and Jim let go of the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  “Hold, on,” Chris said. “I want to do one last thing before we leave.”

  Bobby looked to Jim who shrugged. Bobby banked the ship until the moon once again filled the viewscreen. Jim missed it on their descent, but even looking for it, the entrance to the base eluded him at first. But there, hidden in shadow, a wide cave marked the beginning of their nightmare. The rear of the cave looked like rock, but as they approached, it lowered to reveal the unlit hanger. Bobby hovered a few miles further out than the tractor beam had originally grabbed them.

  Chris studied his console. As he scrolled through the options, different armaments appeared on the holograph. He settled on a cannon and started firing the turret. A ball of blue plasma shot out from below the viewscreen’s vantage point and zoomed towards the ground. The base ignited in a plume of white smoke. “Nobody probes my ass motherfuckers.”

  Jim chuckled. Yeah, definitely going to be okay.

  Despite their unspoken agreement that Chris had done the right thing and relief that they couldn’t be subjected to that process again, the mood stayed subdued. Barely a word passed between them as they traveled back to the planet.

  The ship descended through the cloud deck and into daylight. Jim hadn’t realized they had been gone that long. None of them had slept in over twenty four hours, but he didn’t feel the slightest bit tired. They followed I-70 towards the Rockies. “Does this ship have any sort of cloaking, or will anybody looking up right now see an alien spaceship commuting to work?” Jim asked.

  Bobby’s brow furrowed. He tapped at buttons before answering. “We are cloaked.” He bit his lip. “I think.”

  Jim exhaled. “Well, no use worrying about it now. We should be getting close to Kersey. Navigation, how are we looking?”

  Melissa giggled. “All locked in, sir.”

  “Should be there in half an hour,” Bobby added.

  The fourth console, the one they’d ignored the entire trip, chirped. All heads turned toward it. Bobby twisted his body as he craned his head to look behind them. In the process, he pulled his joystick in the direction he moved. The ship lurched, and he returned his attention to his task.

  “Pay attention, jerk. You trying to get us killed?” Chris barked.

  “I-.” The chime, louder this time, drowned out the rest of his sentence. Jim climbed out of his chair and tapped at the console. Nothing happened save for the continued beeping.

  “Let me try,” Melissa fought against her console to stand. “This ship really doesn’t want you leaving your post mid flight.” She got the same result and returned to her own terminal. Chris had an easier time of standing. Jim couldn’t tell if the ship didn’t consider weapons as essential as navigation or if he was just stronger.

  After Chris also failed to get a response from the flashing and beeping control panel, Bobby stood. “I found the autopilot,” he offered. His luck was no better than the others.

  Jim slumped back in his chair. “Stupid ship wants somebody we don’t have,” he muttered. His fingers dug into the armrests. Instead of simply giving under the additional pressure, they held their shape against his onslaught. The seat seemed to know just want he wanted and provided it when he needed it. If only the rest of the ship did that. He paused. Aside from that blasted door, the entire ship did respond to his commands, even when he hadn’t realized he was giving them.

  “Ship,” he said out loud. “Give me control of that console.” He pointed, unsure if that was really necessary, but he was done playing games.

  The chirping ceased, only to be replaced by static. “Unidentified craft, report or be shot down.” Jim jumped at the voice over the speakers. “Repeat. Unidentified craft, report or be shot down. Last chance.”

  “Uh, dad, I mean, Captain. We’ve got company.” Melissa pointed at two dots on her display.

  “Show me,” he said. The viewscreen changed to show behind them. Two F-16’s tailed them, about half a mile back. “Shit. So much for being cloaked. Uh, can you hear me?”

  “Unidentifiable craft. You have ten seconds to comply. Identify yourself or be shot down.”

  “Ship, let me answer.” Another chirp. “Don’t shoot,” Jim shouted.

  “Then identify yourself.”

  “Uh, my name’s Jim Bromley of Bromley Excavating. We found an alien spaceship buried in the ground.” He faltered, knowing just how ridiculous the story sounded. If he wasn’t sitting in the ship, he wouldn’t have believed it either.

  Only silence met his response. “Jim.” Bobby broke his concentration. “It’s time for us to start north.”

  He frowned. “Okay, let’s try it.” The ship turned under Bobby’s direction, but one of the jets following them veered off and cut in front of them. They turned back to their original course and the plane fell in beside them.

  “The General wants to talk to you. Follow us. Do not deviate or you will-.”

  “Be shot down,” Jim finished for the unnamed pilot. “Yeah, we get it.” He shook his head. “Well, Bobby. Follow the jet.”

  “I can take them, easy,” Chris offed. “Think we might even have shields. Could take a missile blast, no problem.”

  “No, that’s the U.S. Air Force. They are just doing their job to protect our country. If the roles were reversed, you’d do the same.”

  “Alright,” Chris grumbled. The virtual turret slumped with him.

  “Any guess where they are taking us?” Melissa asked. “Buckley Air Force Base is in the other direction.”

  “Area fifty-one?” Bobby guessed.

  “Nah,” Chris said. “They don’t have the range to make it to Nevada.”

  Jim sighed. “We will find out soon enough. Let’s try to relax. Worrying about what’s going to happen isn’t going to help
us at all.”

  The room fell silent. Despite what he’d just told the others, Jim continued to chew on the problem. What they wanted was obvious. Bobby had been right; they should have just called the authorities and washed their hands of the situation. Now they were over their heads, and they’d look to him to get them out of it instead of becoming some classified secret along with the ship.

  They flew low through the mountains. The jets took them through a meandering path to a small base nestled in a valley. They hadn’t seen any roads in hours. It confirmed Jim’s worst fears, but he didn’t share them with his crew just yet.

  “Unidentified craft, land at runway three, marked with the yellow lights.” On the ground, the marker lights flashed on showing them their destination.

  Jim looked to Bobby. “We don’t actually need a runway, do we? We can just land wherever?”

  Bobby smiled. “Actually, I’m not even sure I could use a runway. I don’t think we have wheels.”

  “Okay, hard stop at the beginning of the runway. Let’s make it a little bumpy, like we don’t know what we’re doing.”

  “We don’t know what we’re doing,” Melissa protested. “What are you getting at, dad?” So close to the ground, she slipped back into their normal roles.

  Jim ignored her for now. “Everyone, prepare for a rough landing. And, uhm ship, prepare yourself for emergency landing.”

  They approached the runway, and Bobby pulled back hard on the throttle. Their momentum should have thrown them from their chairs, but even Jim’s, the sole seat that wasn’t moulded to his body, kept him in place.

  The speed indicator plummeted. Bobby cut the engines entirely. Newton said they should have glided for a while until air friction overcame them. But the craft’s builders had apparently outsmarted Newton as well as Einstein and more than a few other physicists. They dropped like a stone. Lights and alarms blared. Bobby hadn’t accounted for this and they were set to land on the edge of a rock wall instead of the runway still hundreds of feet in front of them. He found the thrusters and goosed them. They cleared the wall but just past that sat a small brick outbuilding. The nacelle caught it just before digging into the grass. The edge of the runway sat in front of them, the marker lights mocking their failure to reach their destination.