“Acid!” Ord cried out. “It’s spitting acid at you!”
“No,” said Hopper, blinking furiously. “Salt water.” A handkerchief was being thrust toward him. He turned and saw that Nagata was holding it, offering it to him. Without a word he took it and wiped the salt water from his face. In retrospect, maybe wearing a pair of goggles might not have been a bad idea.
“Must be some kind of hydration system,” said Beast.
His comment barely registered. They were all dealing with various degrees of shock, and it was easy to understand why. Mankind’s first extended encounter, face-to-face, with an alien life form, and it was happening right on their ship. And it was happening under the most mundane conditions possible. Not with a flying saucer descending into Central Park or perhaps on the front lawn of the White House—with an alien being in a silver lamé space suit stepping out and announcing in a stentorian voice, “Take me to your leader.” No, instead it was on a makeshift operating table, like something out of a damned police procedural. CSI: ET. Or maybe SVU: UFO.
Hopper tried to keep his hands from trembling as he turned the head of the alien left, then right. In addition to the blue-green of its face, it had strange markings that he couldn’t even begin to translate, and what looked more than anything like a growth of stalactites coming from its chin. The alien equivalent of a beard? Bone structure extending from its skull? He had no clue.
“My dad used to say they’d come,” said Raikes softly. “Said it his whole life. ‘We ain’t alone. There’s no way.’ He said one day we’re gonna find them or they’re gonna find us.”
“Yeah,” said Ord.
“Know what else he said?” said Raikes.
“What?” said Ord.
“He said, ‘I hope I’m not around when that day comes,’” said Raikes.
“Uh—” Ord paused and then asked innocently, “Did he say anything about you being there and shooting the crap out of it?”
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You want a firsthand re-creation of how it went down?”
“Last warning, the both of you,” said Hopper sharply. He turned to Beast. “Give me your flashlight,” he said.
“Gloves,” said Ord urgently. “At least glove up, sir.”
Hopper stopped and turned to him. “Ord, I understand you’re a little freaked out. So I’m going to say this once, nice and patient: Calm the hell down.”
Ord forced a nod. “Roger wilco, Captain. I’m calm. I’m, like, neurosurgeon calm. Buddha calm. Buddha Buddha Buddha.”
“One more word and I’m going to let Raikes shoot you.”
Raikes smiled in anticipation.
Ord promptly shut up.
Beast handed Hopper a Maglite. The reluctant captain leaned in close to the alien’s face, studying it. He flicked the light on and shined it directly into the alien’s eyes.
Saline systems have been interrupted, but the damage is minimal. Fluids are rerouted; life support systems functioning at acceptable levels.
The Regent’s regeneration cycle is complete. Internal damage repaired. External damage repaired. Retrieval signal has been sent. Retrieval is imminent.
His eyes, fully healed, focus on a light source. The system’s star? No. Far more concentrated. A portable light device of some manner.
His eyes snap open and he sees a human staring down into his face. There are other humans nearby.
He does not perceive any of them as being the humans who attacked him in a tiny vessel. He does not recognize the female as the one who incommoded him by shooting at him and disrupting his armor. All humans look alike to him. They are not worthy of individual attention.
All he knows is that the human with the light source is within unacceptably close proximity, and the light is painfully bright.
The alien’s eyes snapped open and, before Hopper could react, it lunged at him.
Ord leaped back, warnings of remaining silent forgotten. “Not dead! Not dead!” he screamed.
The alien’s hands clamped around Hopper’s throat.
Hopper gurgled helplessly as he felt long nails digging into his neck. It’s going to rip the skin clean off me…
He was face to face with the monster, its burning eyes glaring at him, as Nagata and Beast came in from either side and tried to pull it off him.
It reacted to the light. It nearly freaked out at the light. Hopper immediately shoved the Maglite into the alien’s eyes. If the flashlight had been a Taser, it couldn’t have elicited any more of a response, as the alien jumped back violently, releasing Hopper as it did so.
The human is resourceful. It is adept at utilizing objects at hand in an offensive capacity. This notation had been added to the mission log.
Retrieval is imminent.
Retrieval is now.
Before Hopper could react—before he could do anything—there was a deafening explosion, similar to a flashbang grenade, but louder and brighter and with far greater concussive force. All Hopper knew for sure was that one moment he was still on his feet, pulling away from the alien, and the next he was hurtling through the air and coming down hard on his back.
The world around him was one huge riot of noise and strobing lights. From his vantage point on the floor, Hopper tried to shield his eyes and make out what the hell had happened.
The blood practically froze in his veins as he saw more of the aliens pouring in. He had quick glimpses of his crew on the floor, being either stepped over or kicked aside by the invaders. Hopper began to struggle to his feet but he never came close to standing fully upright, as a thick fist slammed down on the back of his neck, sending him sprawling to the floor once more. This is it. They’re going to kill us all. They’re taking the ship. They’re taking…
…their man?
The aliens had grabbed their fellow, who’d been upright on the table. It was staggering but capable of locomotion, and hung on the shoulders of one of its rescuers as they headed out of the helicopter bay. Hopper worked on getting to his feet and this time he made it, lurching after them. He had no idea what he would do if he overtook them; he wasn’t wearing a sidearm—a mistake he’d be sure to rectify in the future, should there be a future—and he was also considerably outnumbered. But the bastards had overrun his ship and he’d make sure there would be hell to pay for it.
As it turned out, his pursuit quickly became a moot point. He made it up to the chopper deck, only to stagger as he saw what appeared to be some sort of alien flying vessel rising into the air. It’s not a stinger? They have other vehicles? What else do they have at their disposal that they haven’t shown us yet?
Hopper stood there, bathed in the white light that the alien vessel was generating from beneath. Someone was suddenly at his side and he jumped slightly into a defensive posture before he realized it was Nagata. He saw his own exhaustion, confusion, and overall dazed demeanor mirrored in Nagata’s face. Who knew that we’d finally have something in common: total bewilderment.
Together they watched helplessly as the alien ship angled away, the engines insanely quiet for something that big.
“I got a really bad feeling,” said Hopper.
Nagata looked at him curiously. “What kind of feeling?”
“A ‘We’re gonna need a new planet’ kinda feeling.”
Nagata didn’t laugh, or even smile. Which was fine, because as far as Hopper was concerned, it wasn’t a joke.