THEM: RAPTURE (Book Two)

Chapter One

     Rick moved through the alien landscape, it was a dangerous place where most humans in the area were either killed or taken. He was very good at eluding them. For beings that had the ability of interstellar travel, they were not so formidable on their own. Human weapons could kill them in small numbers and human cunning an intellect could evade them.

     Rick was ex military, he took part in a war that was promised to be a hot war and was more of a cold one. He was trained to be able to infiltrate anywhere, get in and out and not be seen. This was a skill set that was only applicable in society in small places. However, now that the aliens were here, his skills were in high demand.

     He had at first just planned to survive, just planned to get by. He knew the less he risked, the less he moved the after he would be. But there were people who were suffering, people who were held by the aliens. He tried as much as he could to turn a blind eye. It was easy to think of survival of the fittest and do what had to be done but when faced with it, it was something else entirely. He met some survivors, people who were not ready to give up, people who wanted to fight the aliens and take back their world.

     Rick was inspired, planning to join up with a resistance cell but first he needed to use his skills for a more practical use. Intelligence. That was his primary target in most of his pre-invasion ops. When the aliens came the humans could not figure out how to fight them, they could not figure out their society. Rick followed the aliens, watching and seeing how they worked, all the while moving ever closer to the enclave the resistance was using.

     He found a bunch of aliens processing a water source. Once it had likely been a beautiful lake. He saw them, all moving in groups, controlled by some sort of central intelligence. However, the aliens were not all controlled. They were more given orders and the aliens minds did the rest. There also seemed to be castes. Some aliens were larger than others, some smaller and more for working. The larger hunter ones approached the water area, seemingly to check in on the smaller ones and their work with it. As much as they were controlled, the larger ones seemed like bullies, hurting the small ones to remind them to work with their orders faster and more efficiently.

     Rick took out a small notebook. This was a tactic that could be used. Though they were controlled and given orders to follow, the smaller ones could not be expected to rush to help the larger ones. They fear them but do not willingly serve under them.

     Rick imagined that the smaller working caste was either a downtrodden race on the alien home world or another race that had been captured. Whatever it was, Rick would be damned if he allowed his people to become the next working class for the savage aliens.

     Rick took notes of the aliens in the wastelands, he was making discoveries about them that would make most people jealous. Once there was a time when knowing about how an alien species worked would have been sought after and celebrated. However now, so far out, there were few to share it with and even fewer that would care about it. This was a world where there was not much emphasis on knowledge, or knowledge did not fill your belly and knowledge did not keep you safe from the elements.

     There was a lot of alien crap lying around. Most of it was from various conflicts but it seemed that a lot was left behind. It seemed that there was a lot the aliens used to get to the world and claim it, and once it came to the colonization, it made things that were not needed going forward get discarded.

     Most would think that such things were not important as the aliens left no food, no weapons, nor anything of particular use. But Rick knew there was something to be learned. He could not read the alien language but soon something stood out to him. The strange alien language, though indecipherable, was not consistent with each other. The aliens did not seem to have sophisticated enough of a language to have so many distinct dialects so the only thing that could be guessed is that some of it was not the language of the aliens. Some looked like technology from other alien species and they had taken it over in such haste that they did not bother something like decoration and words written on it.

     A group of hunter aliens came into the region, they were hunting for humans and this would be a challenge for Rick. He knew that these were the best at doing what they did, and he would have to be smart to stay one step ahead of him. Rick had a plan, he thought that if there was discarded alien tech it was the furthest thing beneath the notice of the aliens that there was. Rick had studied the languages and learned how to tell them apart. One was older, and more common than the rest. 

     It seemed to be on the most expendable of the tech that had been left behind. Rick collected scrap pieces, mostly akin to sheet metal and wires. He made a suit of it, making it so if he crumpled to the ground, he would be but a pile of alien scrap. He got too bold in his movements and the aliens got too close. He tucked into a ravine and the hunters came over it. Their scanners seemed to pick up the wreckage and they just moved on. They had so much space to cover so once they thought it was just junk, they moved on. Rick smiled as he saw the aliens go past. He had found yet another weakness in their operation.

-

     Brock walked the perimeter of his area. It was easy to look out at the sea and think that it was safe, and nothing was wrong. But it was not as it seemed. There was danger on every corner and though the area was set for humans and all the people had what they needed it was easy to forget the aliens that were out there. As much as they tried to make the world more fit for humans, the aliens also did the same. It seemed that the world was in the grey area of what the humans and aliens could both inhabit, and both wanted it just right for themselves.

     Brock walked along the runway that had a rough landing the last time supplies and personnel had come. It was free of debris and usable, but the question was, will anyone else come? As he walked along the runway he looked down to the rocks by the ocean and saw a small figure. It was a boy who lived in the base. His parents had been killed by aliens and he did not want to stay with other children his own age. He preferred to tinker with junk and trash and do his own thing. Brock knew better than to try and tell him what to do unless there was an emergency. The boy really only listened when he wanted to...or had to. Instead, Brock grabbed some food that had been prepared for the people working in the hanger and took it down to the boy.

"Your name is Jason, right?" Brock asked as he sat down next to the boy. "I'm Brock."

"I know who you are," Jason replied, not looking up from a radio that he tinkered with. There were strange tones on it, it sounded like random noise at first, but the more Brock listened the more it sounded less random.

"Are those tones new?" Brock asked.

"Hard to say," Jason replied. "I just found them the other day but they might have been going on for some time."

"Are they the aliens communicating with each other?" Brock asked.

"No, the aliens don't use radio perceivable signals," Jason replied. "This is something else, or at least another alien."

"What do you think they are saying then?" Brock asked, not sure what to make of this strange noise he was hearing.

"I don't think that it is live," Jason admitted. "He took out a small dog-eared red notebook and showed Brock several pages of ticks and lines. This is the entire broadcast. There are sixteen different tones and they make up different configurations before a three second pause I think indicates the next thing."

"Spaces between words?" Brock suggested. He thought that Jason might be some kind of mathematical genius and if they weren't in a world beset by aliens, he would likely be in some sort of gifted school.

"As far as I can figure," Jason replied. "I tried bringing it to the commander, but he told me to stop playing with toys and sent me away."

Brock nodded. "Well he has a lot on his plate. How about you let me see who I can get to listen. I think you might have something here...something important."

"Really?" Jason asked. "You are a hero around here. They would listen to you."

"Well, they are about to listen to us both," Brock said with a reassuring smile.