Sam looked at Mick and realized what he was talking about. The prospect of going over to the scene of such carnage, getting within range of those severed body parts… It wasn’t as if they could hurt her, but still…
She shook her head. “No. I can’t.”
“You can.” He pushed her firmly toward the still drivable Jeep. “Move. You’ll thank me if you’re holding a weapon when something jumps out at us.”
Steeling herself, she stayed beside him as they crept toward the site of the destruction. She tried to ignore the blood that was seeping everywhere and stepped carefully around a stream of it that was staining the dirt dark red.
Mick made it to the nearest Jeep. It had been torn to pieces, but Mick could still access the backseat, where a shotgun was sticking out. He gripped it by the barrel, standing clear of the business end just in case, and slowly extracted it from the vehicle. He looked it over carefully to make sure that nothing was bent, which Sam thought was a smart idea. The last thing they needed was to have the thing blowing up in their faces if they had to use—
Suddenly there was a crashing sound and a streak of movement in the brush nearby. Mick spun, training the shotgun, ready to open fire on what Sam was certain would be an oncoming alien. We were idiots to come out into the open like this, oh my God, we’re going to die…
And then a dark-haired, bearded man staggered out of the thick brush, covered in dirt and sweat. He took one look at the gun, and the man who was holding it, and let out a terrified shriek. He put his hands up in the air.
“Don’t shoot! Are you trying to get away? If you’re leaving, take me with you!”
“Why should we?” Mick kept the gun level. “How do we know you’re not one of them? This could be one of those Body Snatchers deals.”
“I swear to you, I’m not!”
Mick paused and then said challengingly, “What’s your favorite football team?”
“What?” The man blinked and then said, “I’m… I’m not into football, really.”
Mick chambered a round.
His voice going up an octave, the man cried out, “I like baseball, though!”
“Which team?”
“The Cubs!”
Mick took this in and then lowered the rifle. “He’s legit. An alien conqueror would have said the Yankees.”
Sam wasn’t entirely sure she understood the reasoning, but it seemed to satisfy Mick, and he was the one with the field experience. “Who are you?” she asked the stranger.
“I’m Calvin Zapata. Doctor Calvin Zapata. We…” He tried to wipe the dirt from his face and only succeeded in smearing it around some more. “We sent out a beacon. To contact intelligent life in deep space. We monitor it from an outpost on top of the mountain.”
It took Sam a few moments to fully process what Zapata was saying to her, and when she did, her eyes widened in shock. “So you invited them here?”
He started to nod but then quickly shook his head. “Not me. Them. Others. I mean, yes, I work for the Project, but I tried to tell them this could happen. The program really just hoped that if we ever made contact, they were going to be…”
“Nice?” said Mick.
Zapata nodded.
“Yeah, well,” and he nodded toward the remains of the police officers. “They’re not.”
Understatement of the year, thought Sam.
USS JOHN PAUL JONES
Hopper had managed to pick up some of the damage he’d inflicted on his quarters. Now he lay on his bunk, staring at a photograph of himself and his brother. The picture was intact, but there was a crack in the glass. The crack ran lengthwise and divided the two brothers from each other. Not too damned symbolic.
There was a knock at the door and it swung open before Hopper even had the chance to signal that whoever it was could enter. Beast loomed in the entranceway, and Hopper could tell from the all-business expression on his face that he wasn’t there to inquire after Hopper’s health.
“Sir, we need you.”
Hopper didn’t respond at first. Then, his voice low and heavy, he spoke—not to Beast, but to his brother’s image in the picture. “I can’t do this.”
“We need you, sir,” Beast repeated, as if Hopper hadn’t spoken, or even heard him.
This time he looked straight at Beast. “I. Can’t.”
“If you can’t, who can, sir?”
Hopper propped himself up on his elbows. “What the hell’s so important? What do you need me for?”
“We’ve pulled one out of the water. During the Myoko rescue—”
“What are you talking about? I thought we pulled all of them out of—” He stopped as he realized what Beast was talking about. His hands started to tremble. Immediately he sat fully upright. “One of… them?” Beast nodded. “But… how—?”
“Judging by the bullet holes in its armor, I’m pretty sure it’s the one that Raikes shot to hell.”
“But if that’s the case, why isn’t it just lying at the bottom of the ocean?”
“Best guess: some sort of internal buoyancy device in the armor.”
“And how would that work?”
“I don’t know. But I thought you’d want to be there when we dissect the bastard and find out.”
Damned right I want to be there. This is the one small triumph we have over those creatures, and I want to be there for every second of it.
“Where is it?”
“Helicopter bay.”
Hopper gave one more determined look at the picture of Stone and him. “We killed one of them,” he said grimly. “And if we did that, we can kill all of them. Let’s go.”
Minutes later Hopper entered the helicopter bay. Raikes, Ord, and various crewmen from both ships were gathered around a table upon which a dead alien warrior was lying. Nearest to it was Nagata, who was staring down at it with cold fury. He looked ready to rip the thing apart with his bare hands. All eyes went to Hopper as he entered.
They were waiting for me. Of course they waited for me. I’m the commanding officer. He was still having trouble thinking of himself in that capacity. “Let’s have a look at it,” he said briskly.
Ord said nervously, “You’re gonna touch it? Maybe it’s radioactive or something…”
“Running a Geiger counter over it was the first thing we did when we brought it on board,” said Beast.
“Okay, but maybe it’s got some kind of alien virus or something.”
“No one’s putting a gun to your head to make you be here,” Raikes said to Ord with obvious annoyance.
“It’s first contact, Raikes. It’s freaking history. Where else would I be?”
“Hiding under your bunk, swabbing yourself down with Purell?”
“Stow it, both of you,” said Hopper, having no patience for his crew’s banter right then. He looked silently at Nagata, who simply nodded his head, and the two of them got down to business.
It took them several moments to work the helmet free. Finally they managed to turn it counterclockwise and there was a loud click-clack. Taking that as a good sign, they slowly pulled the helmet free. It produced a strange sucking sound and then the creature’s face was exposed. It was even more hideous than when Hopper had seen it from a distance.
He and Nagata looked down at it in bewilderment. Then a burst of liquid from some sort of tube spurted out at the two commanders, hitting them in the face.