Abduct - Tease

ABDUCT - TEASE

Fritzie Salmano dared to open her eyes and screamed. It was a body beneath her--Harry Poller--in his satin, glitter-suit. But where was the stage? Where was Lincoln Center? She glanced around and tumbled from the still performer, whose head suddenly lolled to one side in a ghastly manner. His big saxophone was still around his neck. Her camera hung from her own. She jumped back, thinking him dead, and struggled to keep from losing control. She felt jolted like her body had gone through a lightning bolt. A whiff of ammonia worse than the stuff under her sink smacked her brain, gagging her.

Then she noticed the vibration and the translucent floor--glowing under soft violet light that seemed to pervade the strange room. The ceiling was a mad array of coils and protuberances with crystals wrapped in spirals of shiny metal. She reached for her nylon pack beside her and froze. Three other bodies sprawled in haphazard array--a woman and two men--one of whom was all bloody. All were strangers and seemed dead. She felt another scream brewing in her throat but clenched it down.

With sudden courage, she knelt again beside the famous bandleader and felt his breath faint on her cheek. The air was warm, but Fritzie shivered. The smell had lessened--but still like a room that had just been cleaned. Where was she? She chewed her lip, thinking. The last she remembered was that punk stagehand trying to feel her tits while she was snapping photos of Poller's solo on the big sax. Then the snapping, fizzing lights, chaos and Potter tumbling back clutching his chest...She'd lashed out, using her best defense--her well-trained legs--but had she knocked the punk into some lights? How did she get here? Where was here? Who were these people? Why did everything vibrate with a deep hum like the transformer in the alley outside her Lower East Side apartment?

She backed up carefully, watching the unmoving bodies, until her head brushed a wall that curved above her. It was smooth and warm. She glanced at her watch. It was just 12:24 AM--only minutes since she'd last noted the time, at the encore. With resolve, she realized she must be the victim of some horrid joke. Perhaps she had been knocked out after striking the stagehand and they were getting back at her for wrecking the finale to Potter's concert. Someone could have altered her watch. She must be in someone's weird pad--maybe one of the coked-out band members, or even Harry Poller's place. It was certainly a designer's dream and probably cost a fortune. But Poller could afford it.

"OKAY EVERYONE, I GIVE UP. NICE TRICK. REALLY SCARY, BUT YOU CAN COME OUT NOW. IT'S NOT FUNNY ANYMORE!" Fritzie's voice rang in the strange room. None of the people on the floor moved. She tried again with more firmness. "ALL RIGHT ALREADY--I WAS DEFENDING MYSELF. COME ON. THIS IS INSANE. YOU'D BETTER QUIT OR I'LL-"

What would she do? Her vague threat hung ineffectual. She heard nothing--not even New York noise--except that infernal hum and a larger vacancy beyond it that grew steadily malicious. She collapsed at the base of the curved wall, losing control. She wrapped her arms around her legs and huddled against the unknown as a panel in the opposite wall slid down into the pale floor without a sound...

*********

In Los Angeles, many hours before Fritzie was to attend her concert job in New York, the afternoon rush traffic of Friday the 16th of February 1996 jammed Santa Monica Boulevard as usual. Haze hung dense over the congestion. Suzy Daniels prepared to conduct her evening business from her room. She wore only a peach nightgown of silk--one of her few nice things. Already loaded, she stashed the empty bottle of rum. It was already five P.M. Her first appointment was a fat slob on his way home from happy hour. If she could just lose some weight, she could attract some better clients. She opened a drawer, removed a vial and swallowed several strong relaxants. Her door banged with erratic knocks. She put on her welcome face and answered the door.

Later, Suzy wretched at the rancid feeling in her mouth and stared at the empty vial in her pudgy hand. She'd lost track of the capsules. Wavering in stupor, she fell back upon the bed, masturbating in abandon as the last rays of LA dusk fell upon her. Her mind went to her youth in old Chicago and summer blues concerts in Grants Park. Nearby, Hollywood Boulevard was slack with early dinner traffic.

Peacefully, consciousness left Suzy with the light from the room. In moments, a different light suffused the room in a purple that bloomed around her body sprawled across the bed. Fog-like, the lurid glow flared, and her body jerked like electric voltage had struck. Suzy dissolved in the violet glow and was gone with the light. For her, it was a beginning...

Just then, across the country in New York, the time was 9:20 P.M. Previous to her mysterious arrival in the strange room, Fritzie Salmano reprimanded her unseen and overly independent feline, refilled the litterbox and shoved it behind the bathroom door. Then she grabbed her stage pass and dropped a handful of fresh film rolls into her pack to cover the Poller concert at Lincoln Center. She set the thermostat and left her apartment. In the hall, Mrs. Bard rounded the staircase. Three grocery bags filled her arms. Other cats swarmed about her ankles, but not Ninja. Fritzie decided to help her landlady because she needed a favor.

"Going now, are you? Oh goodness, thank you. Thought I'd drop it any moment." Fritzie took the two heaviest bags easily.

"Yes. I expect to be gone awhile, but I can't find Ninja. Would you mind keeping an eye out for him?" Mrs. Bard was a widow, comfortable owning two buildings and with having lots of strays for her affection. She stopped at her door.

"Of course, not dear. Don't you worry. You could meet someone you like and be gone weeks and little Ninja would be fine. You just have a good time--and get lucky this time." She unlocked her door and went inside.

"Prizewinning shots, Mrs. Bard. That's skill and some luck." Fritzie set the bags inside the door on a table and hurriedly left with no desire for further conversation. She was well aware of her landlady's real meaning. Being an attractive woman of twenty-seven and still single was unacceptable to the older woman, who'd married at fifteen nearly sixty years ago. Besides, Ninja would be fine--he spent most of his day at her place anyway.

She hurried out to catch a cab, glad to have her pass and avoid parking hassles. Poller wasn't on until ten. She had plenty of time, as it was barely 9:30, and of course she had no idea of what was in store for her that night, nor of exactly how much time she truly would have because of it--a strange luck indeed...

Just after 8:30 P.M. C.S.T. along a lonely stretch of two-lane highway in west Texas, the Red N' Rare Steakhouse was a Friday night beacon and haven for ranchers and truckers--especially the lounge. Inside, Deputy Sam Ballard sat with glazed expression, glad he was off duty. He'd lost a prize bull that day to a speeding trucker on the road. Now, that same trucker lay on the floor the other side of an overturned table with a steer skull from the wall above askew in his lap. Not too coherent, Sam wriggled out of his friend's grasp.

"Aww, lemme go. I ain't a'goina kill him. I oughta, though."

"Sam Ballard, my lounge is a mess. Now what am I going to do? This isn't the first time you've--"

"Hell Jimmy, it's my gaw-damn bar, too, and nobody pushes me around--not Sam Ballard. I've had enough. Just tab up them damages and drinks--his too. The fella needs tendin'." Overhead, the television flashed a news report about a terrorist attack on the Pentagon that looked worse than the Oklahoma job. Pictures revealed explosion-wrecked sections of the country's military stronghold. "Lookit, will ya--nothin's sacred no more, Jimmy. Hand me my piece." Jimmy reached under the bar, tight-lipped.

Ignoring stares of other patrons, Sam retrieved his holstered revolver and strapped it on. He donned his hat, brushed off his western shirt, picked up his long coat and headed out, bumping a table and the doorframe.

In the clear, cool night, Sam paused by his '96 XLT Ford truck and remembered his overfull bladder. Country music blared from nearby trucks where youths were downing beers. Sam didn't care. His splatter flecked his expensive boots, but he was oblivious, head tilted back, his eyes watching the stars. A greenish-yellow light was high in the west and stood out among the stars. Sam thought it was Venus and got in his truck. He headed off, weaving.

He got only five and a half miles down the road when "Venus" matched his speed just as his truck careened off the road and smashed into a gully at fifty. Sam Ballard never knew what that embankment felt like, because he was already gone...

The research vessel ascended back to the rarefied upper atmosphere of the planet--a greenish orb streaking swiftly to a point. Cyiam Bas-Thalol settled back, pleased. His seven-fingered hands moved easily across the controls. All electromagnetic trails were deflected. He held his course steady at only 249 hilams per zarute, leveling the sleek craft at 27 hilams--almost three times higher than the planetary crafts he often monitored by their heat trails and ancient turbine noise.

He was still headed in planetary rotation direction. The vast Iree was suddenly far below, and he adjusted toward axis 1 of the world, following the line where nolta and iree met. Great splotches of light illumined whole regions--the alien tarits--but nothing like those back on Okriblan. His first subject had been from a tarit that, on his world, would have been no more than a small outpost.

The next had been traveling in a surface craft at the ridiculous pace of barely ten hilams per zarute. It had been like grasping a sluggish moobott off the floor of his berth on board Ta-Clantar, his Mothership, now behind the sixth planet of this star's system.

The monitors automatically slowed the craft to "floatspeed" as gravitational energies were neutralized--deflecting planet mass by concentrating an equalized mass from the volume of matter in the universe above. As investigator, Cyiam Bas-Thalol had his assignment.

Another tarit sprawled along a great inlet by the iree. He scanned the receptors for another guest. Unlike the unscrupulous Grey Ones, the aliens he found had to be on the verge of cessation--a strict requirement from Council for procedures of scientific inquiry--and he wanted all to be perfect--even to the coding of the dominant planet language into the Analyzer. He bent over the screen, intent on his experiment.

*******

Lieutenant Colonel Trinker slapped away drifting thoughts as he swiped his sweat-matted hair from his brow, assessing his chances. He was shrewdly intelligent but tended to act in passion. His quick wit had saved him more than his compact stature, but his drive had packed him with the toughness of an old hide. It had made him one of the country's top pilots and had got him to the innermost sanctum as top Decryption Analyst. But now, his code breaking was done. His act was unforgivable. With the Pentagon's command center wrecked, they would kill him with no trial--no nothing. He was sure that on-the-spot termination was his fate if they caught him. Unless... He shrugged. Miracles were unlikely in his world.

Hell, he had no regrets. The bastards had fucked up another generation with the Gulf War, not to mention his brother--as if losing his father in Korea while still on his mother's tits hadn't been enough.

He took the bandage he'd been fashioning with his ripped sleeve and pressed it to his shoulder wound. The bullet had passed clean through--just missing the joint. He gritted his teeth. So, they were going to kill him before his forty-fifth birthday. Well, not if he could help it. Shit. He was through kissing Pentagon ass. He'd done his grisly, noble task.

He peered around the wall. So far, he was clear. But the way was blocked by an open expanse where a project had been graded to rubble. Some dozers rested in the middle--squat hulks in shadow. Light reflected from scores of puddles in the uneven foreground. The mid-winter thaw had made mush. It would slow him down, but if he was lucky, he might make it across. The river was not far; the mini-sub awaited him--his ticket to freedom.

He cinched the bandage tight and ran hard across the muck in the zigs and zags of a man desperate to avoid being a target. Halfway to the dull yellow dozers, he heard shouts. Shots fired; bullets whizzed past him. He tried imagining himself skirting the muck like Jesus on the water. Just in front of the first dozer, he felt slugs tear into his side with a searing rip of flesh. Other shots pinged on metal. His momentum was slammed still by impact with the cold, gray blade.

Dogs barked in the hazy distance as Zeus Trinker lay in the mud losing consciousness along with his hope. Dankness flooded his nostrils with rot from decades of leaky sewage pipes. A brilliant flare made it day. The dull metal became bright, safety yellow. But he was far from safe in the false dawn; he'd never see the real one that coming day. He struggled with his thoughts, passing out, giving in to escape from the horrible pain. Dozens of special troops rushed to the dozers in the brilliance, but the violet light that surrounded Zeus Trinker was unnoticeable. As the dogs reached the first dozer, whimpering and sniffing, Zeus Trinker was gone...

Cyiam Bas-Thalol glanced at the three aliens in the pad room. Their bodies were motionless as their molecules reassembled. All the research had confirmed the probability that some of the aliens would quickly learn and communicate through the Analyzer's translator. They had to be helped and warned about the Grey Ones--whose covert alliance with aliens on this world with secret authority and abductions of living aliens for genetic experimentation was criminal. Scientific inquiry was fine, but that curious little gray race had lost all reason--even breeding with these aliens! They had to be stopped.

The only way Sector Council had determined to deal with the problem was to advance this planet to Intergalactic Law and Order and be brought up to technological par with at least minimum abilities to engage their stellar neighborhood. That is, if communication was successful with the experiment he was conducting. Then they themselves could deal with those renegade Etashnins by merely stating the Great Law in Transgalactic--once it was learned. All races everywhere learned it. They surely could, too.

Cyiam Bas-Thalol switched off the screen to the padroom. He was already over another large tarit, clustered at the edge of the iree, which stretched, vast and dark along his course. He fully extended his gaze as he viewed the scanning locator, which was poorly designed and hard to see from his seat. There were a multitude of cessations occurring, but he was watching for particular genetic codes as designated for the experiment...

Now backstage at the Lincoln, Fritzie sidled closer to the throng around Harry "The Horn" Poller. Out in the crowd, the applause was a sonic ovation. She could barely hear over the roar.

"You ole coon--you done it again. They throwin' money on the stage!" The Bass man clasped Poller lovingly around the neck. "Here, better have some more."

The two of them hunched close a moment. Fritzie snapped shots. Poller turned, eyes watery, smiling a cheek-splitting grin. His long-stretched jowls were covered with curly, black stubble. Dusty powder whitened his upper lip, contrasting his richly dark complexion. Even beyond fifty, and plump, Harry Poller was attractive. He dragged his hand across the telltale smear, strode past Fritzie, glancing briefly at her. His flaring nostrils seemed to take in her scent as he passed by. In moments, the band regrouped for the encore.

The curtains split. The lights were tropic suns above the sold-out crowd. The cheering thunder rose then ebbed to abrupt silence. Potter began the trickle of melody to his most famous tune in honor of Victoria Falls--written during a trip to find his ancestral roots.

Fritzie skirted an annoying stagehand who kept watching her lustfully. Disgusted, she turned her back to shoot the rhythm section, now pounding the driving current of the "Riverfall" tune. Fritzie, who'd seen only movies of the falls, could easily imagine them in the music, which swiftly rushed to the "plunge". Everything blended in heightened frenzy. Harry leaned back wailing his solo that fell in fury and soared in wild flight--a prizewinning photo in the dazzling light. Myriad flecks of color danced from the sequins on his suit.

Fritzie shot it all. Then, she felt hands cup her breasts and the unwelcome lump of an excited man pressing her tush. That crazed kid again! She reacted with the calm dispassion of her martial arts training. The man went careening backward into a tangle of cables. The stagehand yelped in terror as his body became a conductor. She perceived her error and saw Poller grope at his chest and suddenly collapse at the "splash" of his solo. Chaos swept this final act as feedback and fizzing, popping lights immediately closed the show.

Confusion of people bumping in the sudden gloom lit only by emergency lights swept Fritzie stage ward where she fell onto Harry Poller, now motionless. She felt hands and saw purple light as though a floodlight with a violet gel was on her. Then the hands were gone, as was her sensation of self. Searing shocks inundated her. It felt in her mind like she had exploded into trillions of snowflake bits gleaming in an endless, purple void...

Cyiam Bas-Thalol sat up in alarm, hearing the horrible shriek from the pad room monitor. He flicked on visual and uttered a series of clicks. Where there should only have been four, there were now five restructured aliens lying on the pad. Somehow, an extra being had passed into the restructurizing attractor, and survived. It was bending over the other most recent arrival. Abject fear was emanating from the alien, and he felt sympathy for it. Still, he maintained course and headed out over the dark iree at 700 hilams per zarute. There was nothing he could do just then. The being--unlike the others who normally would be dead--had been transported alive and would have to be returned later. He needed to concentrate on getting to the nolta of solid iree on the extreme rotational vector of the planet where the mean planetary temperature was far lower for the experiment far from the warmer areas of population.

Fritzie was cramped in her slump. She stood, forcing herself to grasp her strange reality. The air was not so bad now. She glanced at the bodies. None moved. The low hum was steady--almost soothing to her jarred nerves. She studied the people, approaching each in turn, checking for life signs. A cute woman in a sexy nightgown sprawled by Poller, her plumpness suggesting middle age or many children or both; several meters beyond her was a man, older and rougher looking, with nice looking cowboy boots and long coat, but with a bloated, ugly body; nearer to herself was a gaunt man in military fatigues with a bloody rag around his shoulder and a torn shirt, also red and wet. She wrinkled her face at the sight, but noted in spite of herself, that he was also blond and handsome with a compact body.

Totally unembarrassed, her gaze roamed over the man's exposed chest and down to his crotch. Too bad, she thought. All that blood must mean he was dead. She leaned over him, puzzled. She could see no visible wounds. She saw his chest rise with a breath and moved back, startled.

Where was this place? She was utterly dumbfounded. The people were all in comas, she supposed. One fear was relieved.

Forcefully, the vibration returned. Her skin prickled. She reached out to grab something but there was nothing. She fell backwards and hit her head on the curved wall. The pain was shards of magenta in her brain as she blacked out.

Beyond about fifty meters of mass adjustors, light-ribbons, and corridors, Cyiam Bas-Thalol hunched over the controls, silently admonishing the much shorter, Nerkin engineers who never seemed to regard the size of any of their client races. He guided the craft gently onto the surface of Nol-tablan--the solid iree nolta. The cold and remoteness was ideal for non-intervention. He wanted nothing to harm the aliens while they learned the Great Way.

Fritzie sat up rubbing the back of her head. The vibration had ceased. She found it extremely difficult to believe, but the media was now full of reports and testimonials--especially since a magazine had boldly opened the debate a couple of years ago. Her present experience seemed like a case. Remembering her camera, which still hung from her neck, she determined to get some pictures.

She framed the weird ceiling first, getting the whole view with her wide-angle. Then, changing the lens, she aimed at the people, adjusting for the low light and the glowing floor. Using her camera restored her cool. It was something familiar. She got the shot and almost dropped her camera when she heard the voice.

"What the--Maybe I just dreamed I won that fight! Hey Jimmy--you here someplace?...Why, dang! Smells like a hospital." The man in the long coat sat up and looked around on the floor after feeling his head. As Fritzie watched from the shadows near the wall, the man gawked at the bodies and the ceiling for a long pause. His expression went from puzzlement to frightened animal. She'd never seen a grown man so scared. The man took off down a corridor Fritzie hadn't even noticed.

There was a rush of motion. Fritzie was suddenly pinned to the floor under the blond man who was glaring at her. His bare chest was just brushing her nipples. He sniffed, glanced around with a terse movement, then scrutinized her.

"Who are you? What is this place?" His voice was curt and flat. Fritzie had already had quite a shock. This strange guy getting personal was too much. A few maneuvers later, Fritzie glowered at the man, now hunched in pain and showing unmistakable surprise in his face. His bloody rag had unraveled from his shoulder in the scuffle, and he was now regarding his shoulder with a most peculiar look, ignoring her.

"I'm Fritzie; I don't know where. And just who the ramming jackhammer are you, bare chest? And what's with the blood?"

"Zeus. Zeus Trinker, Lieu--" He glanced at himself, leaving his introduction hanging, and groped at his side, as though looking for a pocket in his skin--or a gun that wasn't there. Then he picked up the bloody rag. The blood was fresh, not yet brown. Why he had worn a bloody rag was beyond her. There wasn't a mark on him that wasn't natural.

"My blood. This is my blood. I was just--" His voice faltered, and he swayed. He wrenched out of the bloody shirt and let it fall. His hand went to his forehead. As he fainted, Fritzie had compassion and caught him in time. She laid his head softly in her lap, studying him. Some Zeus, she thought. There was another sound from the floor.

The woman stirred, mumbled something unintelligible and awoke with a start.

"You bastard, no good slob. Taking advantage of me! You--" She shoved Poller awake. "Nobody pays me near enough for a whole night! Get outa here or I'll call the..." The woman gaped at her surroundings. Fritzie pitied her. It was bad enough to awaken here alert.

Poller roused and glanced at the woman, then at the garish decor of the ceiling, seemingly unperturbed. He unstrapped his tenor sax, looking at it curiously. The woman appeared to be in shock. Poller scratched his face, puzzled.

"That musta' been some party! I can't remember a thing." He gently laid the beautiful instrument down. Fritzie moved her position; the head of Zeus was heavy in her lap. Poller noticed her movement. "Yo sweetheart, whose cool place is this? Where's everybody? Who's that cat?"

Fritzie was about to reply, but a voice from her lap made her look down.

"You're very pretty. Are you my nurse? Is this a mental ward? I must be dreaming. Is this a dream? Am I dead? I was...But, but I can't be." He sat up, suddenly alert again, and slapped his shoulder. "This is incredible! I'm completely healed!"

Fritzie stood. Her instincts cautioned her. Maybe it was all a dream. Perhaps she'd been seriously injured on the stage, and she now lay deep in coma herself on a hospital bed. She studied the situation, realizing they were all staring at her, as though looking to her for confirmation of their strange circumstances.

"Look--I don't know anything either." Fritzie snapped. The craziness had moved her cool assessment into anger zones. "I was getting shots of Poller there during his encore at the Lincoln when all hell broke, and I was...I woke up here--like you people."

"Shots? Of me?...Yeah, that's where I seen you. You're that babe that smelled so good just before I--Oh Lord 'a mercy! I remember a terrible pain in my chest like a..." He stopped with his gaze upon the woman like he'd just noticed she was in a nightgown. She was google-eyed, smiling at him--a familiar look to a star.

Zeus Trinker assumed a wary stance, seeming, Fritzie noticed, to regain his mental clarity. "I don't like what I'm feeling about this place. You in the nightgown--snap out of it." It was a command. "What do you remember?" To Fritzie's astonishment, the shocked woman exhaled deeply, relaxing. She still looked at Poller.

"Oh my God. You're "The Horn" himself! How in the world?"

"That's what I asked you, lady." Zeus interrupted. "Who are you?"

"I'm Suzy Daniels." She answered, her gaze locked on Poller. Her voice was resigned. "All I remember is falling asleep in my bed in a rotten world that had no glimmer. I hated everything about my life. I just prayed and prayed for something else. Some hope. And I wake up with still another man sprawled on me and--lord knows--it turns out to be Harry Poller, of all people. I must have died and gone to heaven!...Why, I'm so sorry I called you a slob earlier, Mr. Poller. I'm a terrific fan of yours."

"Call me Harry, Miss Daniels. Say, just where are you from?"

"LA, and I was in New York ten years, but I'm a Chicago girl."

"Yeah?" Harry raised his brow. "Where at?"

"Out around Harvey, off 159th. You?"

"I know the area. I bought a place for my sister near there. That's where I'm from, too... Say, I'd like to talk with you Miss--"

"Suzy, please." Suzy extended her arm.

Fritzie and Zeus both watched, amazed, as Poller led Suzy Daniels to the far side of the chamber where they sat talking in low voices. There was a noise behind them. Fritzie turned to see a panel in the wall slide floorward, exposing a screen and some sort of computer-like keyboard, but with tiny crystals on a tilted console. Zeus was already in front of it, seeming a midget since it was nearly up to his chest.

As she watched, an image of earth formed on the screen, showing the western hemisphere. Five dots of light were strung across North America. One was on the west coast; one was in the Rio Grande region; and three were clumped together in the east. All were blinking in sequence left to right.

Fritzie moved closer. Zeus barely noticed, apparently absorbed. Another tiny light surged in a line directly to a point in the middle of Greenland. The whole sequence repeated several times. Fritzie squinched her face. She'd never been much with puzzles. She was more interested in Zeus Trinker's back. He whirled around, his eyes intent, expression earnest, but non-threatening. Fritzie stepped back anyway.

"That other guy. That's got to be it!"

"How did you...that other guy got up and ran down that corridor over there. You were still out cold."

"No, I saw him run off." Zeus folded his arms, appearing confident. "I'm pretty good at cracking codes and computer stuff. That's how I wrecked the--well, I mean, I think someone is trying to tell us something. Somebody who won't--or can't--talk to us direct. Already, I've learned that the dots are us and we are somewhere in Greenland."

In the control area of the craft from Ockriblan, Cyiam Bas-Thalol was extremely pleased that one of the aliens was perceptive. The one who had been off the monitors for some time was probably, he supposed, hiding in any of the various nooks along the corridors. The fear the being had displayed was typical. Since two were learning communication, he was unconcerned about the stray. He leaned back, smoothing the thick folds of skin around the base of his eye. He was weary being so intent.

Fritzie gaped at the screen that now showed a vast wasteland of ice and distant crags with a low quarter moon above them. It could have been a different planet, but it looked like Greenland.

"Well, maybe you're right. But if it is--how did we get here? You think it's an outside view?"

"I don't know, but it's my guess. Look!"

Fritzie watched as the landscape disappeared. Numbers formed. It looked like algebra to her, and she started to see relationships. But Zeus was quicker.

"I knew it!" He exclaimed. "This is navigational data. I'm sure of it. The relationships are right, although the symbols are strange."

As though in response, the geometric symbols changed into words--at least they looked like words. Fritzie silently read them finding no meaning at all in zarutes or hilams. She shivered, glancing around, then looked at Zeus. He returned her gaze. They both resumed their study of the screen.

"I think somebody's listening."

"Yeah. They are." Zeus replied, leaning over the crystal keyboard thing. "Did you happen to note the time you got here?"

"About twelve thirty." Fritzie glanced at her watch. "It's one twenty, now. If we're in Greenland, we got here real fast. It's way over two thousand miles from New York."

"Let's say it's 2500. That 700 something could be a flight speed and that other one--perhaps a trajectory. I'd need to do some figuring."

"How can you say that? We'd have to be in the Concorde--which we certainly are not." Fritzie frowned. She thought about the distance, trying to remember her geography.

"Because it looks like it. I'm a pilot. And you're right, but even the Concorde can't fly that fast."

"You said it, not me." Fritzie reached out and touched Zeus on his bare shoulder. It was knotty tough and warm. They searched each other's eyes. "We could be in danger."

"Could just be a hoax, but I doubt it."

"But how can you be so sure? We were all unconscious. Maybe for a whole day! Maybe it's all a set up."

"No...About that blood--my shoulder had a bullet hole clean through it." Fritzie pulled her hand away, remembering the blood. "And that's not all. I did a terrible thing, and I was shot bad and fell. I should be dead in the mud."

Fritzie glanced at the shirt still on the floor, wondering at "terrible thing". Then she remembered Poller clutching his chest and the white powder under his nose. Warnings flashed in her mind.

"It's not what you think. I destroyed something evil but got caught. I'll tell you later. I want to know what's behind this."

"The others! We've got to find them." She shot a look toward the corridor.

"You go. I get response to my questions when I hold this amber crystal, and that's interesting."

Fritzie started to protest but thought better of it. She could take care of herself. Zeus shrugged and turned back to the screen. It now showed a model of the solar system. She left him there and went off toward the corridor.

Cyiam Bas-Thalol shifted his bulk in the cramped seat and chirped in triumph. The one being was already proving communication efforts by translating data of the recent flight to his own terms. He bent over the Translator, becoming completely absorbed in this intriguing dialog. He became so engrossed that he took no notice on the monitor screen of the whereabouts of the other aliens. He was safe and unconcerned, for the Research Pod with its planetary air was sealed from the rest of the craft. He was certain none of the aliens could break entry.

Feeling thirsty from the intense session, Cyiam Bas-Thalol ran his middle tentacle to a socket in the console and drank. He showed the alien the coordinates for Ta-Clantar, explaining to him the nature of his craft's relationship to the main expedition. The response was interrupted by a grinding sound that made him glance up. The sound ceased. He turned back to the work at hand.

Fritzie walked for some way along the corridor that was dimly lit by bluish light. It was difficult to see. She heard groans and sighs ahead, and she entered a wide area. Her step struck something hard. A voice mumbled. She remembered her lighter. She found it and saw in the sudden orange brilliance the entwined black and white bodies of Poller and the woman.

"I don't believe it--we've probably been abducted, and you--This is not the wrap party, Mr. Poller. We need to stay together. We could be in big danger." Indignant, Fritzie shielded the flame as Poller stood, making no attempt to cover himself as he looked for his clothing which lay beside the saxophone near her foot.

Suzy sat up languorously. "I need a smoke. Anybody got a smoke?"

"Abducted? You mean like that UFO stuff?" He smiled at Fritzie's nod of confirmation, and then shook his head. "Me and Suzy--well--we kinda hit it off, ya see, and--"

"Spare the obvious. Come back to that main room. We've found out some information." She extinguished the flame.

"Sorry, but my lighter doesn't mean I smoke."

"I guess I can hold out a little longer then." Suzy pulled on her nightie that was muddy gray in the low light.

"Did either of you two see anyone else around here?" Fritzie glanced past them into the darkness. Poller helped Suzy to her feet. They started back the way Fritzie had come, this time with light from the lighter. They got back to the main corridor when there was an ear-splitting crash. A sound like a tire blowout followed, along with a gush of frigid air. Ammonia stung her eyes as Fritzie started to run toward the brighter glow of the strange chamber but smacked into Zeus, running toward her. He clasped her to him. She clung to him for just a moment, enjoying the contact.

Poller collided into them, breaking the embrace. "What was that? And--phew, that smell?"

"No time. Come on or we may be too late!" Zeus clenched Fritzie's hand and tugged her in the freezing direction she was fleeing from. She glanced back at Poller and Suzy.

"He know the way out or something? Harry--you'd better get us out of here!" Suzy clung to Harry, now.

"We're right behind you." Poller, with Suzy in tow, ran after them.

Fritzie jerked her head toward where Zeus was pulling her. The light was flickering. She sensed that something was very wrong. They came to a hatch somewhat like what might be on a submarine. Zeus began fingering indentations--seven of them in a semi-circle--by placing the fingers of one hand and two from his left hand over the holes to the right of the door.

"Just wait a minute!" Fritzie yelled and caught Zeus's hand. "What are you doing?"

"I know what this place is and why we're here." His voice was smooth and controlled. "The screen started telling me stuff--incredible stuff! But now...I just hope we're not too late."

"Late for what, mister? You got a train to catch?" Poller leaned past Fritzie, glaring at Zeus, whose hand was still held by Fritzie above the holes in the wall. "If we're on some kind of UFO, maybe there's guards or something. How do you know what's what?"

"This is maybe the greatest thing you'll ever know your entire life!" Zeus wrenched free and jammed his fingers into the depressions. Fritzie tensed as the great door swung inward with a grinding sound.

Acrid green mist and icy cold stung them. Everyone gagged and coughed for several minutes before ventilation from behind them forced the ammonia-tainted air out. As the air cleared, Fritzie observed the scene, wondering what had happened. The man in the western style, long coat who had run off upon awakening in the strange room now sprawled face down, his body partway through another door some twenty feet away. Everyone was low to the floor, groping to stand.

Zeus rushed forward through the inner door after a superficial glance at the man. Fritzie saw blood pooling by the man's head as she stepped by him. She glimpsed another hatch beyond that was partly open to the glacial vista of outside glare. Suzy was unwilling to go further and just stood by the first door, clutching Poller, who also was gaping in terror.

"I know we should have found this creep sooner."

"What are you talking about?" Fritzie was miffed. She felt sorry for the man who appeared dead. She was still looking at him and turned to see Zeus bending over a huge man-like being that was slumped over a console of very weird displays of light, crystals and knobs. Utterly shocked, it dawned on her what she was seeing.

"Gimme a hand here, will ya? It's still alive!" Zeus was grasping the shoulders of the alien, who was gagging and making faint clicks. An elephant-trunk arm from its middle was flailing about with wild movements. Fritzie couldn't move. "Come on--it's probably dying," Zeus barked, his plea an order.

Fritzie snapped out of her fear. It all made sense now. But why should they help this alien who'd snatched them all and was probably planning to do unspeakable atrocities to them?

"Why? We should be helping that poor man back there."

"That poor bastard ruined everything." Zeus was outraged.

"Ruined? He probably saved us. Haven't you heard what aliens do to abductees? They probe eyeballs--even have sex!"

"This being came here to help us! It was talking to me through a computer. Just grab its other arm. Maybe we can help it die with dignity at least."

Fritzie approached, biting her lower lip hard enough to make her wince. The alien was yellowish and wore a blue green suit of sticky fabric that prickled her fingertips. She took hold with Zeus. The alien's head flopped back against her, and she saw its eye. It was like a whale's and was the size of a softball inside a stump of slime sticking out of its massive head that had only slits and lumps for a face. She screamed in spite of herself. The sound made the alien click rapidly. It trembled in her grasp, and she saw the clear indication of fear in the great, sad eye. The alien weakly raised its left arm, pointing its hand at a hole in the panel above.

Zeus suddenly grabbed the undulating tentacle and gently plunged its tip into the hole. The alien gasped and a shudder went through its body. Fritzie heard a scuffling sound and glanced around in time to see the man from the floor standing behind them poised to shoot a pistol.

Poller was right behind him. In seconds, the man collapsed, the side of his skull smashed by the big tenor sax swung by Poller. Suzy was standing behind him, her face wrinkled as she turned away from the sight.

"I couldn't let him shoot after what you said. It just ain't right. I been watching Star Trek forever. That alien there must be pretty damn smart to come here from God knows where, and we oughta find out about him." He bent, took the man's coat and gave it to Suzy, who accepted it eagerly. Then he held his sax tenderly. "My favorite." He shook his head sadly.

"Thanks...But he's probably dying anyway." Zeus was reserved as he eased the alien back in its chair and quickly picked up the revolver. He admired it briefly and tucked it under his belt. "The air mix. His reserve is almost gone. Cowboy there let it all out. See there." He pointed to the outside hatch. "Just before I ran into you, the alien told me through the computer. He knocked out the cowboy but grew too weak. Our air is poison to him."

They all stood by helpless as the alien grew weaker. Its eye quivered and blinked at them. Fritzie saw in that gaze an eternal distance of unimaginable mystery. Her own eyes were suddenly wet.

*********

Days later, warm ocean breeze caught Fritzie's hair as she sat up, brushing sand from her bare breasts. Zeus glanced up at her. Suzy and Poller were off at the jungle's edge eating coconuts. They were in love and had been inseparable since their arrival. They had all had a good rest on the isolated island somewhere in the vast Pacific after their ordeal and astonishingly fast flight.

Zeus reached up and kissed her passionately. She drew away after a moment. Her mind was still on the fantastic circumstances that had brought them there.

"What's the matter? Still worried?"

"No." Fritzie inhaled the fresh sea breeze. "It's just that it's all so incredible that you were able to get us here."

"Not without Cyiam's help. If we hadn't helped him into that sealed room, our alien friend, too, would be dead meat on ice."

Fritzie remembered. The dead man had been dumped out onto the ice--a frozen mummy for some distant future--and they had helped the alien by its instructions into its survival chamber. But now they had an awesome responsibility.

"You really think we can do it?"

"Of course. What do we have to hold us here? We've all been officially dead since we were taken--except you. Cyiam explained everything. We've all been replicated atom by atom to a wholeness even better than we were. Our bodies were left behind--mine in a mudhole in DC; Poller's on the stage at Lincoln Center and Suzy's in a cheap motel room she described."

"But it's terrifying to think about, don't you think? Even if it's the righteous thing to do. We could just let him die--humanely, of course. Think of what we could do! The places we could go. Poller was so excited by the prospect of that freedom. I can see it, too. But I wish I had my kitty."

"Well, no one else has to go. But I am. Those little gray aliens are in cahoots with our government and have to be stopped. Cyiam said his people would help us. In fact--we'd be celebrated. Are you afraid?"

Fritzie turned her gaze upward at the endless sky. Behind all that veil of cheerful blue was an answer to at least some of the mystery in their curious alien friend's eye. It was right to help him get back to Ta-Clantar--his Mother Ship, but go beyond Saturn? It was staggering to think about. Learning why the alien had taken them--he'd apologized profusely for taking her--had shocked them all. The others really were dead to the world. They'd checked it out. Her own life was not all that great. Success had eluded her, but her rent was paid for six months. And Ninja was fine with Mrs. Bard. She smiled. Mrs. Bard got her wish after all, strange as it had worked out. Finally, she decided and met Zeus' gaze.

"Yes. I'm terrified, Zeus. But I'll do it. It's the right thing to do. We just have to stop those awful abducting aliens, and that's the only way." She allowed Zeus to pull her down again.

"I'm glad." His voice was low and soft as they rolled in the sand.

***END***