Those Alien Skies

But he was still a Tellurian, still carried their edicts close to his heart: the human race shall not endeavor to search the stars for extraterrestrial beings. They would never prise that mandate out of him. He did not believe what the Martians told him was happening on Earth. Above all else, he did not believe what they said about Damien Dayananda.

It was not possible that the supreme leader of the Tellurians was now heading the effort to revitalize Earth’s space exploration program, was actually liaising with ACE and the very aliens he had despised while commanding the omnipotent rulers of Earth. Something was wrong. And he had to find out what that something was. So he had to get to Earth.

Elias was a small man, wiry inside his Martian garb of blue sleeveless shirt, black tracksuit pants and green sneakers. The lampshade mustache had recently sprouted a few gray hairs, but that didn’t worry him. The only things on his mind were the alleged happenings on Earth.

And they were alleged. There was no proof of any of it. Other than the constant news videos, of course, but they could be easily faked. While on the moon, he and Dame had spearheaded an attack upon Mars and Earth’s underground. But their efforts had been foiled and the occupants of the Tellurian moon settlement had been forcibly transported to the burgeoning Martian colony.

They were all still alive and that was something to be thankful for. But none of the Tellurian lunar personnel were allowed to return to Earth. They held the history of the events on the moon inside their heads, of course. They knew who Damien Dayananda was, and what he had done on both Earth and the moon. And so did he. And that was why he needed to talk to Dame. See what the hell was going on.

At Millison—the name of the Martian colony—Elias was employed as a systems software engineer. Not a position of leadership or authority. Nothing like what he had been on the moon. But it had its advantages. One of them was that he could readily hack the passenger lists of personnel returning to Earth, not that many did these days. Most preferred to stay once they were settled. But there were always a few who grew homesick or had to return for family reasons.

For the plan he had concocted to succeed, he needed a laser pistol, and that had really tested his skills, so much so that he had enlisted the help of a Tellurian colleague, who now had become somewhat of a liability. Mind you, he thought ruefully, there had been a glut of liabilities on the moon.

However, there was no other way. He couldn’t risk entering the armory, especially once he had hacked the entry code. Somebody else would have to do that, somebody authorized and who knew their way around inside the building. And they would have to be a fellow Tellurian sympathizer who would normally be able to gain access in the general course of their duties, and who would remain on Mars after he had departed.

He had chosen Stella Browning, one of his young underlings at the Tellurian moon base. She still considered Elias a figure of authority—something he most certainly was not, at least on Mars. Stella was a laser technician, a mundane job that involved ensuring armaments were kept in tip-top working order. More importantly, she was a devout Tellurian, something Elias had confirmed by occasional and seemingly innocuous questioning.

Working under strict supervision within the confines of the armory, Stella was never given access to the entry code. Being a forced migrant from the moon, her comings and goings were always supervised by a humanoid serv guard during working hours. And she was always scanned.

He didn’t much like servs. Their human features—realistic face, slim and strong legs with hip, knee, and ankle joints, well-developed arms, hands, and fingers, and speech capabilities—struck him as sinister.

But none of that mattered; he would give her the means of admittance and she would enter the armory directly after the robotic custodian had left its post. She would be in and out in less than a minute, and hopefully the use of the bona fide code immediately after working hours would nullify any built-in alarms. He would then update the inventory files to cover for the missing weapon and cancel her entry details. The perfect plan. No one would be the wiser. Fingers crossed.

“Anything else, sir?” The question disturbed Elias’s thoughts as he stared at the intruder. An RNasia, the confounded associates of the alien Rbuzen. Apparently an automaton, but Elias found that hard to believe as well. They looked like full-blown aliens. Perhaps a meter tall, they possessed mesmerizing black eyes in a triangular head. Two elbows as well as a wrist. Three long fingers, one opposing the other two. Green-grey sparkling skin. Scrawny legs. An apparent knuckle halfway down the instep.

They practically ran the Martian base, and they gave him the creeps.

He shook his head. “No thanks.” Time to put his plan into action.

***

Weeks later, as he furtively entered the elevator in the Millison apartment tower, he thought about how it had all gone like clockwork. After what had seemed like a decade, but was actually less than three months of Earth time, he had finally found an outbound passenger who bore a good resemblance to himself and was about the same age. His intended victim, Andrei Kalowski, was returning to Earth on compassionate leave, except he wasn’t—not any more.

Elias wore a dark hooded jacket over his regulation Martian clothes, all the better to cover his face. As always, he wore his gravity boots, tuned to compensate for the low gravitational force on Mars, and on his back he carried a lightweight knapsack that contained all the requisites for his Earth-bound expedition. Any other things he may need could be obtained from his Earth-based Tellurian contacts—his subordinates in another life, before he had volunteered for the lunar base.

He’d had to tell Stella his plans for the return to Earth, of course, and initially she had wanted to join him, but he soon put that notion to rest. One deception was more than enough to have to handle. There would be no further baggage. Much too risky. He had persuaded her that she could better further the Tellurian cause simply by remaining covertly undercover on Mars. Hopefully that discreet silence would remain in place for the four Earth hours it would take the Rbuzen mothership to travel to Earth.

As the elevator stopped at the third floor in the residential tower, Elias checked the time. The alien ship would leave in under two hours, and he would be on board masquerading as his imminent target. Kalowski was his passport to Earth, and he was not to be afforded any sympathy whatsoever.

Elias left the elevator and strode purposefully down the corridor, well aware that his every movement would be surveyed on the security video. Not that any observer would be able to recognize him with his jacket hood pulled well down over his face. The mustache was gone, of course. Kalowski didn’t have any facial hair whatsoever. Removing it had been traumatic, almost like losing an old friend, maybe worse. Unlike people, it would start to grow back again once he had disembarked the mothership on Earth.

As he approached the door, there was no quickening of his heartbeat. Everything was under control. His palms were dry, his mind concentrating on the task ahead. Stella was five minutes behind him, long enough for what he had to do. She had a crucial role to play over the next few hours, at least until the mothership had set him free and he was on his way to Damien Dayananda.

Stopping outside Kalowski’s apartment, Elias touched the call button and grasped the laser in his right hand. He scanned the name on the door—Andrei Kalowski. Soon to be me, he thought. If all goes well.

A high-pitched voice, full of displeasure, emanated from the door: “What?” Kalowski obviously did not want to be disturbed. Who would when they were about to be lasered?

“Delivery,” Elias replied. “Special flight data pack.” Would Kalowski buy it? If not, he would have to cut the door lock out.

For some seconds it appeared that the door would remain firmly shut, but then the panel slid aside with a welcoming swish. Elias shot Kalowski at point blank range. Pocketing the laser, he dragged the inert body inside and closed the door. Unless he had made a mess of his hacking investigations, there would be nobody else in the apartment. A nervous moment was born with visions of a recently acquired roommate, but it passed. There was no one else here.

Kalowski’s abode was a relatively small unit, gathering the basics of human existence on Mars within its parsimonious clutches: neatly-furnished lounge, kitchenette, bathroom, bedroom, comm corner, and not much else. Much like his own quarters, really. Larger accommodations were for the likes of Jason Sinclair and his human and alien cronies from ACE.

The Alien Collaboration Enterprise had been founded by a colonel named Norma Millison decades ago, following alien contact at Milijun, a research base in South Australia. It had been a branch of the military before growing into a worldwide organization, one the Tellurians opposed, hated, and eventually banished from Earth. All water under the bridge now, but Elias could not accept that things had taken such a turn for the worse on the mother planet, and he flat-out refused to believe that Damien Dayananda was involved in any way.

There was a packed bag on the table. Kalowski had been ready to go. A search of the bag revealed nothing of interest. He checked Kalowski’s body and found what he wanted—his victim’s commphone, wherein would lie the interplanetary journey’s custom code. Elias realized he was sweating, and cursed this particular weakness as if he did not consider himself human. Everything was fine, he told himself. Everything was on course. Nothing could go wrong.

Entering the bedroom, he checked the wardrobe. Martian gear, of course, much like his own. He swapped clothes anyway, just in case the spaceport authorities did a DNA or pheromone check.

“Hello.” Stella’s voice from the door made him start, and he instinctively swore out loud.

Returning to the lounge, he opened the panel and she slipped inside. Like himself, she wore clothing that hid her features, in her case a red cap to cover her hair and a matching scarf she now unwrapped from around her face, letting it drape freely around her neck.

“Thanks for coming,” he said lamely.

“That was the plan,” she answered demurely, offering a cold smile. He felt that he should embrace her, kiss her on the cheek, some kind of acknowledgment of her help. He didn’t, though. She was half his age and he didn’t want there to be even a hint of a wrong impression.

She was looking at Andrei Kalowski. “I presume you had the laser on maximum stun?” she asked. Elias nodded. She knelt down and felt for his pulse, as if she didn’t believe him. “He’s still with us,” she said as she got to her feet. “Ready for ID removal?”

Elias grimaced, removed his jacket, and held out his bare arm. “You bring everything? The spray and skin mesh?” he asked.

Stella smiled. “Of course. But don’t tell me you didn’t bring a backup.”

“I trust you, so I didn’t,” Elias lied.

Looking surprised, Stella got to work with a laser scalpel. First the pain-killing spray, followed by three cuts just below the skin, and a swift pulling back of the tissue. Then came the removal of the blood-smeared Tellurian ID disc, which she placed on the table. As she applied zeolite, a blood clotting agent, Elias turned his head away, but not before he got the impression that Stella was enjoying herself.

She accomplished the whole task in less than two minutes, then applied the skin mesh. Holding up the thin disc, no more than a finger’s width in diameter, she patted his arm on completion. “They won’t dare take that off. You’ll be fine.” Looking at him cynically, she added, “You’re not a Tellurian anymore.”

“Don’t ever say that,” Elias grunted. “And don’t let Kalowski see your face, or hear you speak. Give him another stun in about three hours, wait another three, then disappear.” He put his jacket back on slowly and pulled up the hood.

Stella nodded as she pocketed Weber’s ID disc. “I know the score. I leave here when you’re safely on Earth.”

Nodding, Elias said, “Thanks for your help. There’s some clothes I need you to take and destroy.” He retrieved his garments from the bedroom and dropped them next to Kalowski’s body.

“No problem.” She gestured at Kalowski. “He won’t be any trouble.”

“You’ll need this.” Elias handed her the laser. He had known he would hate this part, even more than the ID disc removal, and he was right, but there was no other way. He couldn’t take the weapon aboard the mothership, and it was imperative that Stella give Kalowski another charge.

A weird smile played on Stella’s lips as she took the laser and waved it casually around the apartment. For one dreadful moment Elias thought she was going to shoot him, or at the very least arrest him and take him to the authorities. Finally putting the laser in her pocket, she said, “You best be off then.”

Elias nodded. “Nice and easy. Grab the clothes, stun him, then scarper. Back to your normal routine when you’ve finished here.”

She nodded. “Sure thing. Good luck.”

Elias grunted again, cowled his face, and slipped out of the apartment, pleasantly surprised to realize that he was just as excited as when he had left Earth for the moon. Different times, though, he thought. Different times.