The Four Faces of Rath
Into The Fray
Chapter 64
LXIVCulpepper saw the huge bird descending toward him, its talons extended, and the blood all rushed out of his face. He turned to run but slipped and began to roll down the hill. He might have rolled all the way to the bottom had it not been for a large prickly bush about half way down. Rolling into the bush, Culpepper rushed to crawl under it as far as he could get, scarcely paying attention to the thorns. Feeling somewhat safer in his hiding place, Culpepper scanned the sky again for the huge bird of prey, his heart still beating wildly. The bird seemed to have disappeared. Culpepper looked for his two-way radio/walkie-talkie but realized that he had dropped it during his roll down the hill. He would have to come out from under the bush to retrieve it, and that thought made him shiver involuntarily. After several minutes without seeing the huge eagle-like bird again, however, Culpepper cautiously extracted himself from beneath the bush and looked around. Still seeing no bird, he ran quickly up the hill to where his two-way radio lay and hastily made a call…
"Culpepper here… Come in Cobra Leader."
"This is Cobra Leader. What's happening there, Culpepper? Did Cobra Nine give you the fireworks you wanted?"
"Negative," Culpepper said simply, not expounding on the reasons or causes.
"Negative?"
"That's what I said… Negative! I need another pilot."
There was a short pause. "Where is Cobra Nine?"
"Crashed."
There was another pause. "Do you need emergency vehicles?"
"Negative," Culpepper responded again. "Cobra Nine is okay…" ("For now," he mumbled under his breath, blaming Cobra Nine for not disposing of the huge bird before it had a chance to attack him.)
"All right," Cobra Leader replied hesitantly. "I'll send Cobra Two. ETA in seven minutes."
"Roger that," Culpepper responded. "Put a rush on it."
Culpepper breathed a deep sigh and scanned the sky again, looking for the jah-ee… and he realized that he was still shivering.
On the Reservation below, meanwhile, Max, Michael, Liz, Maria, Alex, and the others were all tied up and awaiting what was intended to be, in effect, their execution. After overwhelming them with the Cobra helicopters and then subduing them with gas, Agent Culpepper had ordered them all bound and locked inside one of the empty houses. He had then ordered the house to be blown up with a missile. That "job" had fallen to Cobra Nine, who had no idea that the house was occupied… though he never asked either. Cobra Nine was just happy to give Culpepper a bright fireworks show, and he planned to fire a total of four missiles into the house to accomplish that goal… but an unexpected encounter with the jah-ee had ended his plans early, and Culpepper had called Cobra Two to finish the job.
Inside the house, meanwhile, Max and Michael were making the most of their brief reprieve. Michael had managed to chew through the fiberglass tape that bound his hands and had helped Max to finish getting the tape off of his hands. Then the two of them had untied themselves and the others.
"What are we going to do," Liz asked, hugging Max. "If we try to run, they'll see us… and they'll shoot us on sight… especially with you having to carry me."
Max swallowed. He knew that Liz was right. Free of the ropes or not, there was nowhere they could run to. Yet as long as they were in that house, they were condemned prisoners… merely waiting for their execution to take place.
"We need to make a run for it," Michael said, clearly preferring to die in action than to sit there and perish without a fight. "We can hold some of them off for a while."
"But we'll still all die, right?" Alex asked.
Michael nodded solemnly.
"Just checking," Alex said.
As the group debated their options, few as they seemed to be at the moment, high above them, another group was also debating… inside the Antarian mothership, the New Granolith.
"Have you located them yet," Michael asked Varec.
Varec shook his head. "There's too much going on down there… and a lot of smoke over the reservation. But I'm concentrating on the area that was in line with the flight of that last flying machine with the spinners on top… the one you call a helicopter."
"That's probably a good idea," Max agreed. "We know it was on its way there to blow up the house. Where was the pilot when he said he was 'firing,'?"
"He was just outside the reservation. His weapons would have followed this course…" Varec traced a marker over an improvised map of the reservation then drew a circle around five or six houses. "It would have most likely impacted in this area…"
"Can we pinpoint it any closer," Max asked.
"I'm trying," Varec replied. "The missile had a variable range. It can't be determined which house it would have struck for certain… but I may be able to narrow it down to… three houses."
"Do it," Max said.
"Max!" Liz cried out suddenly, as she watched the monitors. "There's another helicopter coming!"
Max looked at the monitor.
"Damn. He'll be in range in… two minutes. We don't have much time."
"One minute, twenty-one and one quarter seconds," Varec corrected.
"That's what I said," Max mumbled… "not enough time."
"Look!" Michael yelled, pointing at the monitor. "Someone's going into one of the houses."
Varec quickly compared his improvised map to the monitor. "That would be this one."
"Why would anyone be going INTO a house that was about to be blown up," Maria asked.
"Maybe it's one of OUR group down there… trying to save the others," Isabel suggested. "I don't know anyone else who would be putting their life in danger going into a house about to be blown up, do you?"
"That's the house," Max agreed. "Gotta be! Concentrate on that house! Get ready to bring anyone who's down there onboard immediately."
Varec rushed to prepare the New Granolith's systems for quick teleportation of carbon life forms.
"Someone's coming out!" Liz said. "Look!"
Everyone looked at the monitor. Three people had emerged from the house and were helping the others to get out. But they would not have enough time…
"MISSILE!" Alex shouted, pointing at the screen. Max and Michael both saw it at the same time.
"Transport! Now!" Max yelled. "Get them out!"
Varec activated the transporter systems just as a bright light engulfed the house. Then the house vanished from the monitor. On the bridge of the New Granolith, nothing could be heard but the heavy breathing of those watching the monitor… for what seemed like an eternity.
"Did we get them?" Max asked after several moments, somehow finding his voice again, though it was still shaky.
Varec shook his head.
Maria closed her eyes, and tears ran down her cheeks. Michael held her and wiped his own eyes.
"We came so far… so far for it to end like this," Maria cried. "So far… and so close. It's not fair."
"Reality isn't always fair," Varec said softly. "We try to make it fair. That's what living is about."
"Well…" Michael said, rubbing his reddened eyes again. "I don't know about the rest of you… but I'm going to make someone down there pay. I don't feel very forgiving at the moment."
"What are you going to do," Varec asked. "You can't just destroy everything down there. There are innocent people down there, too."
Michael turned around and headed to the ascension chamber. The chamber reopened in the cargo bay, and Michael got out, heading for the room that housed his special bike… the one Varec and his scientist friends had made for him years before. On his way there, Michael noticed that the bottom bay doors had only partially closed after bringing Rahn's ship onboard… and he noticed something else…
"The lower beam never deactivated."
Michael started to deactivate the beam, but as he reached for it, he noticed something through the partially open bay doors. It looked like a fighter jet. It must have been caught in the beam. Instead of switching off the beam, Michael opened the bay doors all the way… and the fighter jet was drawn into the hangar. Then Michael closed the doors. The jet's engines were already dead. They had probably run out of fuel long before. A helmeted individual sat in the pilot seat, staring blankly at Michael below.
"You'll be the first," Michael mouthed to the pilot. "Get out!"
The pilot couldn't hear Michael; and in truth, he couldn't see him very well either. He had been spinning around and around in his plane, caught in the attractor beam, for over an hour. Trying to get out of the plane, he tripped and fell on his face on the floor. For a time, he just lay there and moaned. Michael walked up to the pilot and turned him over with his foot so that he would be facing up and he could see Michael's face… and so that Michael could see the pilot's face.
"What are you moaning about? You're punishment hasn't even begun yet."
"Dizzy," the pilot mumbled, moaning again and trying not to throw up. Not totally successful, he pulled his helmet off quickly to avoid choking.
"Are you… are you… going to kill me?"
"I'm strongly considering it," Michael replied honestly. "You killed my friends."
"The ones in the flying saucer?"
"No. The others. We saved Rahn and his flying saucer. You should have been lucky enough for the others to have been saved, too. They weren't."
"What others?"
"The ones on the Reservation. The ones you and your squadron were sent to kill."
"I was just sent to chase a flying saucer," the pilot said feebly… "A stolen flying saucer… from Area 51."
"Who stole it from whom," Michael asked.
The pilot was silent for several moments.
"I see your point. But it was Army property. I'm required to go after it."
"Are you required to kill innocent civilians?"
"I didn't kill any innocent civilians."
"What about all those houses on the Reservation? You didn't kill any Mesalikos?"
"I… I didn't do that. The tanks… and the Cobras did it."
"But if you had got the orders to do it, you would have done it."
The pilot didn't respond.
"Why shouldn't I kill you right now… right here," Michael asked, holding up his palm and allowing it to glow brightly in a clear demonstration of the threat he posed to the pilot.
"It was national security," the pilot said. "Don't you have security issues where you come from? Who's in charge of security on your… on your… where you come from?"
Michael lowered his hand slowly, and his palm stopped glowing.
"I don't kill innocent civilians or people who have done nothing wrong except for being born who they are."
"Lucky you," the pilot said. "You must know who is a threat and who is not."
"I determine that first," Michael replied.
"Like you did with me?" the pilot asked.
"I haven't killed you yet," Michael said. "And you may be a threat."
"But do you know that I am?"
"I know you have the capability to be."
"Ah! The capability… Yes… And would aliens have that 'capability?'"
"Not necessarily."
"Your hand looked like it had that capability."
Michael looked at his hand then nodded solemnly. "Don't ever doubt it. But I haven't used it… yet."
"You were going to."
"I haven't decided for sure that I'm not still going to," Michael said.
"See? You do have security issues. And your answer to them is not so totally different than ours."
"Yes it is," Michael said. "You're still alive."
"For the moment," the pilot said.
"Yeah… for the moment," Michael agreed. Michael placed his hand over a sensor on the wall…
"Max!"
A voice came back over the intercom. "Is that you, Michael?"
"Yeah. I'm sending you a prisoner."
"A prisoner?"
"Yeah. He's coming up in the chamber. Have someone waiting for him. I'll explain later."
Michael motioned toward the ascension chamber, and the pilot slowly got back on his feet and walked into the chamber.
"We'll finish this later," Michael said, closing the door and sending the chamber up.
As the bay doors at the bottom of the New Granolith reopened, a very special bike dropped out. It had wheels, but it also had an oddly aerodynamic look. One moment it was there, freefalling through the air… the next, it had disappeared in a blaze of light as though the sky had just opened up and swallowed it though a portal. Michael was on his way to settle a debt.
On the Reservation below, fifteen people stood silently…
"Max?"
"Yeah?"
"Are we… are we still…" Liz stammered. "I can't see you."
"I've still got you in my arms, Liz."
"I know. But… what just happened to us?"
"I don't know."
tbc
Coming up: The Antarian mothership drops in for a closer look –much closer- and shakes things up in Roswell, as Michael seeks those who are responsible for the blast that he believes killed their counterparts. And "not-so-old friends" meet again.