Strangers and Aliens
The war between Earth and Scylla can have only one result: the utter annihilation of the loser. There will be no prisoners, no refugees, no survivors. After decades and near-defeat, Earth finally has the upper hand. The merciless Scylla, whom no human has ever actually seen, are unshakable in their determination to rid the universe of all “Earthers” for no reason other than brute, unquenchable hatred — even if it means their own destruction.
Stan Jericoff is an ace fighter-craft pilot whose own kid sister was wantonly killed in a raid by the Scylla. He goes on a mission instrumental to the final cataclysmic battle when a skirmish leaves both his and an enemy ship crippled and hurtling into uncharted space. Eventually he and the Scyllan are marooned on a nearly unknown world with no means of letting anyone know they are there. There will be no rescue, so for them the war is over. In fact, they are dependent on one another for their mutual survival.
How can two whose sole mission throughout their lives was to kill one another’s kind coexist, much less cooperate? Then there is the alien’s scornful comments about a small remnant on Scylla that believe in a myth of a so-called Son of God who spoke of turning the other cheek and loving your enemies.
Stan makes some vital discoveries about life, about his own faith, and eventually an astounding discovery about love from a most unexpected source. Strangers and Aliens is science-fiction with character interplay and a unique twist that even non-sci-fi-readers will find intriguing. Oh, and wait till you find out who the alien is!
Excerpt from Strangers and Aliens
Now he could see it clearly. The Scylla, in an EVA suit, appeared to have its back to him, deeply engrossed in some kind of repair work on the aft portion of its ship. Funny, he thought, those don’t look like lobster claws from here. And I wonder why a robot needs a suit.
“Gail, how many Scyllan life forms can you detect in or around target vehicle?”
“ONE, OUTSIDE TARGET VEHICLE.”
That was not conclusive. The detection process usually indicated two Scyllan crewmembers per fighter. But it was based on movement detection within the Scyllan ship, an inexact science to say the least. Attempts to scan for biological signs such as body heat had never succeeded in penetrating the Scyllan hull—or else, as most had concluded, there were no such signs since they were not biological beings but mechanical.
“Gail, on codeword ‘execute’ or if my life functions terminate I want immediate self-destruct. SDS-command-immediate authorization Samson.”
“AYE, SIR. SELF-DESTRUCT-SEQUENCE AUTHORIZATION ACKNOWLEDGED.”
He put on his EVA suit and helmet, took his hand Lectro-Laser and headed for the airlock. I’ll kill that thing and any others that might be alive on board then tow that ship back to Victor-Tango, he thought. If I fail and they get the drop on me, Gail will blow it into another dimension.
“Gail, move us around so the main hatch is within three meters of the Scyllan crewmember doing EVA.”
The Scyllan, still focused intently on the repairs, was completely oblivious to the silent maneuverings going on directly behind its back. As Stan prepared to open the outer hatch he spotted the flexible robotic arm and got a flash of inspiration. He extended the powerful, pincer-like graspers on the robotic arm until each was a meter in length. He then took hold of its manipulator control. With the alien within easy reach he aligned the pincers vertically to insure he would trap both its arms. Then, like the strike of a viper, he swung the pincers across the thing’s midsection and clamped them shut, pinning its arms to its sides. It was clear that the alien could not get itself free. He moved the arm around to bring the Scyllan inside the main bay, closed the outer hatch and re-pressurized the cabin.
Stan stepped inside and stood back away from the thing that was still wiggling and struggling against the pincers, not unlike an insect caught in a web. He took off his own helmet and gloves. The Scyllan was smaller than he had imagined. Although close to him in height, it appeared to be thin compared to his husky 5’ 11” frame.
“So, I’m gonna get a look at one of you things, huh?” he said aloud. “I wonder though, would it be safer to kill you first and then look? Or should I indulge myself and see the look on your face while you die? Assuming, of course that you have a face.”
The thing’s squirming slowed then renewed in earnest as he spoke, almost as if it understood at least some of what he said. As he reached up to see how to remove its helmet, its struggling went into overdrive, giving him great difficulty even though the fasteners were not so different from some models of Earth’s own EVA suits.
“I’m really going to enjoy killing you,” he said. Then, a second later, “Hah!” as he finally got the helmet twisted and ready to be removed.
What if this thing spits some venom at me or something? he thought. He again drew his weapon and stood to the side as he removed the thing’s helmet with one hand.