Alex Gore - The Cube

“There is, however, one more message.” Hans pressed two keys on the keyboard and figures appeared on the screen:

66920392 310920920923 153231 052153349

660 492660054054 923660054054 66920392

YOU TOOK ME AND I WILL KILL YOU

“What does it mean?” Alan addressed Hans.

“Better ask the Major.”

This time the glances were directed at Norman and after hesitating for a couple of seconds whether to answer sincerely, he said:

“We removed the Cube from the ship and put it here, in the Base. At this moment it is only a few yards away from you, behind this wall, in the next room.”

“My God, Norman, what have you done?!” Marcela exclaimed. “People, you know that this is a mission of the government. I, as commander, follow orders. Which, by the way, you should also do.” Norman did not quite sound as if he believed what he said. “This Cube belongs to mankind” Alan said firmly. “And to all nations round the world” Marcela added.

“Sergey is dead and there is not a trace of Ivanov.”

“And where is the body, Lieutenant? What did you do with it?”

“We took it immediately to the room for biological research, the Romanian lady is there with it. I put a guard in front of the door, Sir.” The Lieutenant saluted briskly.

“Very well, Lieutenant, observe the controls and if there is news, immediately report to me on the radio. I’m going to see what’s this whack that harasses us and I swear, once I get to know what it is, I’ll fix it my way instantly!

Ivanov charged his gun and started slowly forward.

He had just the warehouse to finish with and he would be ready.

The helicopter would wait for him after eleven hours at the agreed spot, eight miles from here, direction east-northeast. It would take him to a Russian nuclear submarine by the shores of north Egypt, and from there – home.

But the most important thing now was to finish destroying the base and take the Cube with him. He knew it was heavy, he had tried to overturn it as soon as it was discovered on the submarine, but he had no doubt that he would be able to carry it for eight miles. He was worried only about the weather – in this storm the problem would be not so much walking through the sand, as some difficulties that might arise about his orientation in the right direction.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Marcela appeared in front of him. She held one arm behind her back and in the other hand she had a plastic explosive with her finger on the detonator.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, the Colonel hissed quietly and raised his gun at her. She dashed towards him without answering, as if wishing to embrace him, but what she did was push him with inhuman force, sending the giant on the ground. Her red eyes twinkled in the pale moon light, then her hands pinned his own on the sand, while her sparkling white teeth dug in his neck.

Her hands were clutching his head as a vise and the warmth of the blood, gushing like a fountain, covered all his right side. He knew he would lose consciousness any moment now, and like his training dictated, he considered the options for some outcome from this situation.

If he did not overthrow her away from him, he was lost, he knew it very well. He succeeded in tucking one hand between her legs and with the other he squeezed her neck. Her flesh was hard as steel, nothing human felt this way.

The bulky man moved with great effort the body of the woman several inches and could hardly lift her a bit, she was as heavy as iron. Her limbs resisted chaotically, but he managed to move her at some distance and looked at her face.

Her eyes were sparkling scarlet-red, with the beautiful and unnatural shining of an artificial blood red diamond. The paleness of her skin was in even greater contrast with her bright pupils.

Despite the great loss of blood, Ivanov succeeded to overturn her with trembling arms but with a skillful grip and to press her with his powerful body. He acted on instinct and bit her neck. Instead of blood he felt the acidic taste of something like cider vinegar between his teeth and removed his head from her body. He saw the death convulsions of her chest slowing down, then gradually stopping.

He looked around for help, then submitted to unconsciousness, falling over the lifeless body.

“What’s this motherfucker?” Norman looked at her inquiringly. “I’ll show you now, Major.” Marcela had finished the autopsy, took off her gloves and sat in front of the computer to show him the results.

The lifeless body of the double was lying on the table with his tummy open. There was no smell of decomposition or traces of bleeding, only some strange whitish liquid with revolting acidic stench. “A normal in appearance human body of a male individual, aged about 22…”

“Please, March, cut the crap and say directly. What is actually this shit on the table?” Norman had no time or patience for unnecessary details.

“Death has come as a result of a bullet, that entered the frontal lobe of the brain… Only that usually I would add the phrase “because of a massive hemorrhage and irreversible brain death”. But here there is no hemorrhage, since there is no blood, Major. It is as if this ‘thing’ or this ‘creature’ does not need oxygen or metabolism as a whole. It has only a scanty quantity of some strange liquid, similar to acid, which is totally incompatible with live cells. It would rather burn any living creature on Earth, than support metabolism in the tissues.”

“I just need to know whether it can be killed by a bullet.”

“I suppose so. But there is something awfully strange. Besides, the chemical analysis shows very unusual values. Its anatomy as well – it has no secretory system, no internal organs, no bladder, no kidneys. Digestive system is also missing – no stomach or intestines. There is just nervous tissue, a well formed and greatly folded brain. This thing obviously has an appearance and tissues, similar to those of humans, but is definitely not human.”

Marcela cut a piece from the calf and almost stuck it under Norman’s nose, who instinctively flinched his head back.

“Look at the muscle, see the muscle fibers.”

She splashed the piece of meat, similar to fillet, on the stable and stuck the scalpel deeper, removing a couple of thicker fibers. To Norman it seemed exactly like a pork chop.

“Here, Major, the muscle fibers are very hick and at the same time numerous.”

“You mean…”

“I mean that in appearance this thing has a similar structure to ours but is twice as strong. And this is not all. Look at the brain.” Marcela moved upward to the head and stuck her gloved hand inside the opening in the top of the skull.

“Here, look”, she said and stepped away from the lens of the microscope, so that Norman could take a peek. “Can you see?”

“No”, he replied. Frankly there were only some dots at the end of the tube and around them – smudgy pink background.

“These here are normal human nervous cells and these here belong to the ‘thing’. Can you see? The small dots are the nuclei of the cells. There are at least three times as many nuclei and respectively cells per a unit of area.”

“Does that mean it is cleverer than we are?”

“I am afraid it does mean exactly that, Major.”

“So, we have to deal with an alien form of life, that doesn’t need to feed or go to the toilet, has no blood and is definitely more intelligent than us, stronger, faster…”