Page 7 of Star Mates

“These are odd looking,” she said, reaching up to touch one. The pipe glowed at her touch, like when touching a static ball.

“They might be optical wiring,” he replied. “Kinda old fashioned, but maybe terrorists don’t have Bluetooth.”

The tunnel was very straightforward, with only one turn, which led to another set of plates overhead. Logan waved her back as he tried to see upward through the grates.

“The darkness isn’t helping,” he grumbled. “But it doesn’t look like anyone is up there.”

“Do you think they abandoned us when this place was bombed? Just left us to die?”

“More than likely,” he answered. He slipped his fingers in the grate and pushed upward, bracing his legs to use them for extra leverage. The heavy plate moved slowly, but he managed to finally push it wide enough for his body.

“Stay here,” he said and disappeared.

All the power was off. It was difficult for Emmarie to track Logan in the darkness, but she imagined he was looking around, trying to find something useful. She reached up and heaved herself topside. So intent was his concentration, he jumped when Emmarie laid her hand on his elbow.

“You should stay hidden,” he said, turning back to the console.

“I don’t twiddle my thumbs very well,” she said. She walked around, running her fingers over surfaces. “Do you think this is the command center?”

“I think its proximity to where we were being held is significant,” he corrected, “but I don’t think it’s the base of operations.” He reached out to trace the language over one panel. “Hm. Well, I thought this was Arabic.”

She leaned in close to some writing. “It’s not?”

He shook his head. “Every language has a basic structure, and I’ve studied many languages,” he tapped one particular spot. “This symbol looks like, I don’t know, Klingon.”

“Linguist and science fiction aficionado?” she deadpanned.

“College is not won by academics alone, you know. Star Trek helps.”

All she could muster was a wan smile. Emmarie stepped up to examine a part of the wall that had, what looked like, a fuse box. There were buttons and switches that pulsed red, instead of blue. The building rocked again, pitching her forward into the open console. She threw her hands up to brace herself, but her palm smashed inside among the buttons and levers, causing a shower of white sparks. Logan raced to her and pulled her back, and both stared with jaws dropping as regular lights flooded the room.

Emmarie blinked and squinted at the unexpected brilliance. Logan had raised a hand to shield his eyes, but she was finally able to see his features clearly. Clipped hair, a few shades darker than her own pale tresses, stood up in various directions instead of combed neatly. A casualty, no doubt, from his fingers running through it in a combination of worry, fear and frustration. His face was pale, either from a life spent indoors or from his current ordeal. She raised a self-conscious hand to her blond hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. She still wore the make-up from the rehearsal, but after how-many hours stuck in a coffin she wasn’t really sure if she looked like a raccoon or not.

A series of sounds whistled around them, and the room suddenly came to life.

“Logan?”

“You did a good thing,” he said impressed. He took her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

They walked over to the door and this time, when he touched the side panel, it swished open. From their doorway, it went both right and left then curved as if it were circular.

“Which way?” she asked.

He gave a small sigh and pointed. “Doesn’t matter. The trick to get out of a maze is to put your hand on the wall and keep it there. It may take us a long way around, but we’ll get there.”

Placing her right hand on the wall, she led the way and they walked cautiously forward. Her heart had jumped into her throat, and her head pounded with each beat. The hallway curved with panels at various points on the wall. The compound shook again with a violent jerk. Thrown off balance, Emmarie fell against the wall and her hand accidentally snagged on a panel. Part of the wall disappeared, and her momentum carried her through it. Another harsh shake was enough to send her flipping over the railing to the ground below.

She landed hard on her back. The world swam in blackness before it came slowly back into focus. She dragged a large gulp of air into her lungs, hearing Logan call her name frantically.

She turned her head to look beside her and saw large, oval black eyes staring back at her. Emmarie screamed and scrambled back, her eyes trying to absorb the inert body of...an alien.

It was one of those classic little green men, with overly large ebony eyes and a large elliptical head. Its rail thin body had ribs outlined in the chest area. Smallish, perhaps only three or four feet tall, with slits for nostrils and a mouth.

“Emmarie!” Logan called out as he looked over the balcony rail. She didn’t answer because she was too busy gaping at the creature before her.

Scaling the ladder, Logan’s eyes were glued to the alien as well, and he circumvented it until his outstretched hand managed to find her arm. He yanked her to her feet then pushed her behind him.

“Oh. My. God.”

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