Ten Little Aliens Read online

  Haunt didn’t look impressed. She fiddled uncomfortably with the bandage around her waist. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Power flourishes because people respond to talk of freedom but prefer not to be really free,’ the Doctor informed her.

  ‘They seek the comfort of acceptable strictures in their societies, of a ruler to govern them, of set territorial boundaries that enable a tribal identity to exist.’

  Ben grimaced. ‘You’ve lost me.’

  ‘And so the people with power in these tribes, these factions, seek to extend their territories.’ He jabbed a finger at Haunt. ‘Your kind sought, for example, to assimilate the Schirr into your culture. To assert your power over them.’

  ‘A pacifist,’ Haunt said with all the disgust she could muster.

  ‘So we are the animals,’ said Creben, yawning midway through. ‘Is that the banal point you’re making?’

  ‘No, sir, it is not.’ Polly was glad to see the gleam in the Doctor’s eyes had returned. ‘I am merely observing that the Morphieans are acting in a similar regard. Wielding superior strength, attempting to assimilate us since they consider us less fierce. Ergo, they are animal also, for all this unhelpful talk of disembodied mysticism and magic - and therefore they are fallible. They can be beaten.’

  ‘Yeah, but how?’ said Shade gloomily. He was stronger now since his illness, but all the act of the perfect soldier had gone out of him. He stood beside Polly, glanced at her now and then, perhaps hoping she would return Lindey’s computer to him. She hadn’t told him she’d accidentally wiped the incriminating evidence on his behalf. She didn’t like to just yet.

  ‘Well, we must give the matter some thought,’ said the Doctor. He gave Polly a comforting smile.

  ‘Great,’ Roba said. ‘We’ve got so much time to sit around thinking.’

  ‘The websets we found may tell us something useful,’ said Tovel.

  ‘Shade, you take one,’ said Haunt. He nodded, and retired back to his couch, almost gratefully, it seemed.

  Haunt paused, then handed the other set to Polly. ‘Give this to Frog.’

  ‘Frog?’ Roba scowled. ‘She ain’t one of us now, she’s one of them.’

  ‘She remains a part of this team,’ Haunt said icily, quashing all other possible resistance to the idea. ‘She is currently incapacitated but will contribute to our war effort for as long as she is able.’

  That might not be long at all, thought Polly fearfully as she approached Frog’s makeshift bed, dragged into a gloomy corner of the pentagonal room. The blood had stopped flowing from her stomach, but it still looked a dreadful mess.

  Shade had covered the gashes in some sort of plastic skin; it sat like white custard on the tacky raw pink beneath. The alien flesh now covered her chest and neck, and was creeping under her chin.

  Polly noticed Frog’s black voice-disc had fallen from her neck and rolled away across the floor. She retrieved it, and studied it blankly. It had been embedded in Frog’s skin, but the Schirr flesh had rejected it.

  Polly felt in a bit of a spot. What use was it, Frog viewing something back if she could no longer tell them about it?

  The woman stared helplessly up at her. The scars on her face seemed less livid in the gloom. She looked younger. More vulnerable.

  ‘Hey. I can’t feel a thing from the neck down...’

  Frog’s voice died away in her throat. Her big eyes grew huge.

  Her voice.

  ‘What... the... hell... ?’ Frog whispered each hoarse word carefully, a proper whisper. Her natural voice. She had a soft American accent. ‘Is this me talking?’ Her face split open into the biggest smile Polly had ever seen.

  ‘She can talk!’ squealed Polly in excitement. ‘Frog can talk!’

  Everyone turned to stare at her, bewildered.

  ‘Of course she can talk,’ said Haunt patiently, ‘which is why she can give us a full analysis of the experiential report on that headset.’

  Polly shook her head. ‘No, you don’t...’ She broke off as she felt a hand clamp round her leg.

  Frog was shaking her head, urging her to keep quiet.

  ‘Sorry,’ she concluded lamely, and crouched back down to see Frog.

  ‘What you telling them I can talk for?’ she whispered huskily. ‘I can tell them myself, now, when the time comes.

  Right?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Polly.

  ‘But they won’t trust this,’ Frog said urgently. ‘The old Frog couldn’t speak.’ She closed her eyes, a blissful expression on her face. ‘Speak, speak, speak.’ She stretched the word out, enjoying it like chocolate: ‘Speak. It’s this stuff, this stuff inside me, putting me right, putting me back together again.’

  Her eyes blinked back open. ‘If Haunt knew, she wouldn’t trust me. Understand?’

  Polly nodded uncertainly.

  Frog took the webset. ‘Wait till I have a report ready for Haunt. Then I’ll tell her. Then they’ll all hear me.’ She gave her habitual chuckle, but now it was a warm, playful sound and not an electronic belch. ‘I’ll yell it at them. I’ll sing it at them! What a blast.’ She laughed again.

  Polly felt uneasy.

  Frog was like a child at Christmas with a longed-for gift as she eagerly put on the headset and closed her eyes. ‘This is the only place I ever belonged,’ she murmured, as she put her fingers to her temples. Polly wasn’t sure if she meant with Haunt - in the army - or inside her head.

  She walked briskly back to the others, in time to catch Creben calling out a new set of numbers from the navigational display.

  Tovel and the Doctor looked gravely at each other. ‘We have moved several parsecs through space since our last reading,’

  the Doctor reported.

  ‘Into the heart of the Quadrant,’ muttered Tovel.

  Haunt chewed her lip, said nothing.

  She all right?’ Ben noticed Polly standing with a troubled look on her face. He got up and walked over.

  ‘As she can be,’ said Polly neutrally. She felt like official confidante to the unit with the number of secrets she was keeping. What about the others? Tovel seemed pretty straightforward, and Haunt seemed fairly cut and dried, but Creben seemed far too much a cat sort of person to ever seek the camaraderie of the army. Too smart, too independent.

  Polly wondered what secrets he might have to tell. Her glance moved to Roba, who was sweating and scratching in a heap against the barricade. She decided she wasn’t in a hurry to learn his particular story. She sighed, she’d had too much time to think. She longed to actually do something.

  The Doctor seemed pleased. ‘The local knowledge these websets can provide could be very valuable. But what of the bigger picture...?’ He pottered off towards the wrecked stasis console, and peered inside it. ‘I do wish my eyesight was better,’ Polly heard him mutter.

  ‘Let’s consider the facts,’ said Creben. He sauntered over to join the main party, leaving Roba slumped alone against the barricade. ‘Three of us are dead,’ he said coldly. ‘Shel is missing, and presumably the one responsible. Pallemar was dead, we all saw him outside of the stasis - and three Schirr, including DeCaster, are missing too, presumably chopped up and thrown in that power drive.’

  ‘Quite so,’ said the Doctor. ‘And for Shel to have been placed here, we know our enemies must be working with a human collaborator, and one in a position of quite considerable authority. But collaborating with the Schirr, or with Morphiea, I wonder?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Haunt said. ‘They’re all scum.’

  ‘Of course it matters,’ the Doctor snapped, ‘if we are truly to understand our predicament. The Morphieans may have taken control... But what did the Schirr need us for?’

  ‘All right,’ Haunt said. ‘Enough talk. While we’re waiting for Shade and Frog, I suggest we hold an examination.’

  Ben yawned. ‘Multiple choice, is it?’

  ‘A physical examination,’ said Haunt. ‘Something’s attacking our bodies. If Frog’s body
is changing into Schirr it can happen to any of us.’

  Now Roba got groggily to his feet. ‘What, you don’t trust your own squad now, is that it?’

  ‘I trusted Shel,’ she said simply. ‘Now come on. We pair off, examine each other for any sign of the changes.’

  Polly fingered her long hair. It felt soft and luxuriant, like she’d just stepped out of a salon. Her skin, too, felt soft and well-moisturised. She thought of Frog’s voice box healing, of Haunt’s tumour, Shade’s face... her stomach churned. They were like turkeys, being fattened up for Christmas.

  ‘This is most demeaning,’ fussed the Doctor.

  ‘Just get on with it,’ Haunt said. ‘You and Tovel. Creben, take the boy. Roba, you’re with Shade when he’s finished his movie show.’

  Polly glanced over at Shade. He was lying on the force mattress, oblivious to all. His body was rigid, limbs twitching like a cat’s when dreaming.

  Roba crossed his massive arms. ‘I ain’t doing it.’

  ‘You have a problem, Roba?’

  Roba pulled out his gun. ‘You’re damned right I do.’

  For a single sickening second, through the tear in his suit, Polly glimpsed a patch of mottled pink against the dark skin of his wrist, peeping above the dressing on his wrist.

  ‘He’s changing!’ she yelled, and pointed.

  Roba fired three warning shots at the ceiling. Pieces of the mirrored glass lodged in the rock shattered, rained crystal dust over them.

  ‘That cut of his,’ Ben said, grimacing. ‘He reckoned his suit wasn’t working. I should’ve worked it out!’

  ‘Roba,’ Haunt thundered. ‘Just put the gun down.’

  ‘So you can have me put down? Huh?’ Roba was breathing quickly, sweating more than ever. ‘No way.’

  ‘Then let us help you,’ the Doctor implored him. ‘By close study -’

  ‘Study Frog all you want,’ Roba shouted. ‘I’m finding Shel.

  Gonna make him put a stop to whatever’s doing this to me.’

  He backed away towards the exit, fired off another couple of laser bolts into the floor in front of them as he squeezed through the barricade.

  ‘We’ll find you, Roba,’ Haunt yelled.

  ‘Or the angels will,’ Creben added.

  ‘Anyone comes looking for me knows what they get.’ Roba fired one more blast, high over their heads, and ran from the room.

  Tovel started to follow. ‘No,’ said Haunt. ‘Let him go. Let him calm down. Then we’ll go after him.’

  Ben looked worried. ‘I wondered what was up with him.

  Don’t reckon he’ll ever calm down.’

  ‘He will, when he realises it’s hopeless.’ Haunt gave a sideways glance at Frog. ‘And besides. This proves the need for those examinations.’

  Polly saw the Doctor nod thoughtfully. Haunt led her off to behind the depleted row of frozen Schirr corpses, a grisly audience to watch them undress with sightless eyes.

  III

  Ben looked enviously at Creben’s toned, muscular body. He was a regular Charles Atlas on the sly. There wasn’t a mark on him.

  Creben returned the favour with an unenthusiastic inspection. ‘You’re clear.’

  Ben turned to the Doctor, who was doing up his shirt, and gave him a thumbs-up. The Doctor nodded cheerfully, so presumably he had passed muster too. Now he motioned that Tovel should undress.

  ‘You want to check Shade?’ Creben asked.

  ‘Not a lot.’ Then he saw Shade was rising from his couch. If he looked too far to his right, he could probably see Haunt and Polly giving each other the once over. Well, he’d soon fix that little game.

  ‘Kit off, sunshine,’ Ben said cheerily, positioning himself carefully so Shade was looking well away from the bodies on view. But Shade wasn’t showing much interest in anything.

  There was a frown on his face deeper than his few remaining scars. ‘What’s up? Didn’t like the film?’

  ‘The webset was Lindey’s,’ he said, and tapped his fingers distractedly against the metal band. ‘Her trip through the tunnels. Nothing that could help us.’ He fixed Ben with his green eyes. ‘You should’ve seen her there. Every move was textbook, every decision... She had a smart mouth, sure, but the way she carried herself... She never even had to try...’

  ‘What’re you talking about?’ Ben asked.

  Shade looked like he was going to start blubbing, but for himself or for Lindey Ben couldn’t tell. ‘I thought we hated each other, me and her. But I guess we each just wanted what the other had.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ Ben said awkwardly. ‘You’d better show me what you’ve got now, Haunt’s orders. And don’t worry, I’m not about to hold anything and ask you to cough -’

  ‘No. Not me too.’

  The anguished voice was barely recognisable as Tovel’s.

  ‘I’m so very sorry,’ the Doctor said, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. ‘So desperately sorry.’

  Tovel was topless, hugging himself. Ben saw straight away the patch of globby alien flesh on the small of his back.

  ‘Marshal Haunt,’ Tovel shouted, between loud, shuddering breaths.

  Haunt bobbed around the corner of the macabre exhibit of alien bodies, Polly - kit on again - right behind her. At least

  she was all right.

  ‘It’s happening to me too.’ Tovel offered his hands to Haunt as if expecting her to handcuff him.

  She didn’t move to take them.

  ‘You should restrain me,’ Tovel insisted.

  Haunt shook her head emphatically. ‘Just make sure you hold on to yourself, Tovel.’

  ‘No need for cuffs if you wait a while, Tovel,’ a new voice called.

  Ben stared in amazement as he realised where the call had come from. ‘Frog?’ He jogged over to her shadowy corner of the room, the others, Tovel included, close behind him.

  ‘Soon you won’t be able to move at all!’ The voice would’ve been Doris Day’s if she’d grown up in the Bronx. It couldn’t belong to a knockabout like Frog.

  ‘She can talk again!’ Polly said quietly.

  Ben grinned broadly. Until he actually saw Frog. He tried to keep the smile fixed in place for her, but it was hopeless.

  The skin on her hands, neck and chin had turned shiny and spongy. Beneath her combat suit her body had grown bulkier. It was pressing up against the material, pulsing all over. But her face was the worst. While the scars had faded to soft, pale channels in her skin, her features were coarsening, growing larger. Like her face was an inflated mask over the real thing.

  ‘I’ve got this to look forward to.’ Tovel’s voice cracked as he spoke, leaving the words midway between timid question and bleak statement.

  Ben looked dead ahead as Tovel pulled on the top part of his combat suit, hiding the diseased flesh from view.

  Frog’s thickening lips twitched in a coy smile as her eyes darted from face to face.

  ‘Kill me before it comes to this,’ Tovel whispered. Ben hoped that was more of a general prayer than an instruction to any of them.

  ‘Don’t be scared, Tovel,’ said Frog. ‘I’m not. Not any more.

  This thing is healing me.’

  ‘Stop this,’ Haunt warned her.

  ‘I can’t move, but I think I’ll be able to, soon. It’s making me strong.’

  Ben told himself this was Frog’s cheerful optimism, though it sounded more like a threat coming from this bloated creature.

  ‘You didn’t think so before,’ Polly reminded her. ‘You wanted to... to hurt yourself.’

  Frog nodded. Her new double chins wobbled like jellies.

  ‘Yeah, well... swings and roundabouts, I guess.’

  ‘My dear,’ said the Doctor. He alone was acting as if everything was fine, with no cause for alarm. ‘I can see you’re excited, but you’re really not well, no. Not well at all. You should be resting.’

  ‘So you don’t wanna know my news, then?’ she said, almost shyly.

  Everyone waited expe
ctantly. Ben could tell Frog was savouring this, the centre of attention at last.

  ‘This webset. It ain’t Lindey’s...’

  ‘Duh,’ said Shade. ‘I had hers.’

  ‘...but it’s not Denni’s either.’

  Ben felt a tingle drive up his spine.

  Frog chuckled. ‘It’s Shel’s.’

  She got, Ben imagined, her desired reaction. Everyone stared first at her, then at each other, transfixed.

  ‘Shel’s?’ Haunt’s face was stony.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘But he’s a cyborg, an artificial intelligence,’ Haunt argued.

  ‘How could he wear the web like the rest of us?’

  ‘He didn’t,’ said the Doctor. ‘Such enfeebling devices reduce the whole tract of human experience to a digital impression, a stream of ones and zeroes.’ He chuckled. ‘Since Shel’s mind functions digitally also, I imagine he would interface with the webset far more efficiently.’

  ‘Think you mean, used to interface,’ said Frog, with a crafty smile. ‘He’s dead.’

  Creben stared. ‘Dead? How?’

  ‘He was ripped to shreds by the statues and flushed down some big glass toilet.’

  ‘So they got him too,’ said Polly.

  ‘Good riddance,’ muttered Shade.

  Frog tutted. ‘Oh, but was it?’

  ‘Could you just skip the mystery theatre,’ Haunt snapped.

  ‘Say what you’ve got to say.’

  ‘He didn’t put a foot wrong. Not once, from start to finish.’

  Frog seemed to have sobered up suddenly. Her fingers stroked the webset. ‘Being Shel was weird. Boring. No feelings, no thoughts, just reactions, decisions. Then he got sick, confused... couldn’t speak.’ Frog looked at the Doctor.

  ‘That panel he wasted. I think he was trying to tell you something. And he didn’t run far before they got him. They were hiding in the dark, a whole bunch.’

  No one said anything for a few moments, trying to make sense of the revelations.

  ‘But...’ Haunt looked like her view of the world had clouded over. ‘But if he wasn’t here to set this up, what was he doing here?’