By Mcumpston at the English language Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0

The Object

Derrick Cameron
Jul 24, 2017 · 6 min read

The rain was lashing down in great swathes. The figure in the shadows looked at his watch and wondered where his contact could be. Then, he heard footsteps approaching. He tensed, ready for anything, and sunk further back in the alcove he had chosen for cover.

As the owner of the feet appeared, Thomas saw the slight glint of metal — this was not a good sign. He immediately sank to his haunches, fired two shots of the silenced pistol he was holding, and catapulted himself out into the street. He was just in time to catch the crumpling man, and return with him into the alcove.

The startled yet frozen look in the other’s eyes told him what he needed to know. He quickly searched the body’s pockets but found nothing. It was standard procedure not to carry anything in the field, of course, but it was worth a try. In the man’s hand was the silenced pistol he had been planning to use on Thomas.

If they know I’m here, there could be more of them, he reasoned. I need to get out now.

He walked briskly to the escape route he had identified earlier, a metal staircase down to the lower levels of the promenade, and jumped quickly into the ribbed tender he had hidden. There was no choice but to start the outboard — rowing now would be too slow.

As he pulled the starter, something whizzed past his ear. No question now: they were on him. He steered the boat quickly out to the centre of the bay. The rain would help obscure their view, but they might have more operatives in the area.

Without his contact, who presumably was dead, he was going to have to go after the object alone. Something of this sort of importance was bound to attract other interested parties. At that moment, he was stung in the cheek, and lurched forward into the boat.

Being careful to hold the tiller straight, he strained his eyes over the edge of the craft looking for his assailant. His blood felt warm on his face although there was little feeling, due to the numbing effect of the cold rain. He could see nothing. He touched his cheek and confirmed it was merely a flesh wound. “Christ, that was close,” he said, into the wind.

He couldn’t risk going back to the apartment now — they were likely to have staked it out ready for him. The only option now would be the canvas bag in the boat. He touched it, partly for reassurance and partly to confirm it was still there, and was relieved when his fingers found the fabric. He would need to setup the tent as near to the site as possible.

He was sure they would not be expecting him there, yet. As he increased the distance between himself and the body he had left behind, he started to feel more relaxed, although this did increase the pain in his cheek, as his adrenaline was dropping.

He spared a moment to think of Joseph, his contact. He was a good man and had three children and a wife. No-one should have to grow up without a father. He shook himself — time for grieving later — and focussed on getting to the site in one piece.


As Thomas awoke, he found his makeshift pillow in the tent was slick with blood. “That’ll need stitches,” he mused, and set out to find his sewing kit. Once he had made a reasonable attempt at closing up the wound, he moved out of the tent, and packed it away as swiftly as possible.

He climbed down from the ridge where he had camped, and moved silently toward the site. He was drawn to a halt when he found the most beautiful array of flowers in front of him. They had grown in the deep ruts sliced into the ground, which led to the object. He was struck at the realisation that some force had germinated the plants in the wake of the object, as it had crashed. Or, were these seeds already there, and something had prompted their accelerated growth?

There could be no doubt that this was a remarkable find. Hoping that the others were not yet aware of its exact location, he moved swiftly to place and activate the seven large metal poles he had brought along with him around the site.

Once that work was complete, he sent the pre-agreed signal, and moved deeper into the site. As he neared the object, he began to feel an invisible barrier up ahead of him. He was prepared for this, and threw the switch on his suit designed to deal with this exact scenario. As he was just about to reach the barrier, he could smell something similar to the scent of ozone. As he breached the barrier, there was a fizzing sound, and he felt the hairs on his body rise in response. Then, he was through.

The object was remarkable. A tetrahedron, with deep grooves cut into each face, at regular intervals. He touched the surface and found it was almost oily, frictionless. There is no time to explore, he thought, I need to get to the door and see if any of the occupants are still alive.

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew an artefact the size of a mobile telephone. It was made of a material similar to lead, and had only one button. He pushed it, and an invisible pressure hatch on the outside of the hull jettisoned itself, landing with some force into a nearby tree. Using a grappling hook and rope he had brought along for this purpose, he climbed into the vessel.

There was smoke throughout the interior, and an electrical hum interspersed with a crackling sound that seemed to come from everywhere. Time is running out, he thought.

He called out for any survivors. His voice didn’t seem to carry far inside the vessel — the air seemed thicker than normal atmosphere, and he heard his voice too loudly inside his own head, as though his ears were blocked.

He heard a groan, from the rear of the vessel. Quickly, he moved toward the sound, and found a body showing some signs of life. It wasn’t human. This was not a surprise to Thomas, who wasn’t human either. At least, not entirely.

He spoke to the creature in its native tongue. “My friend, there has been an unfortunate accident. I suspect the rest of the crew are dead but I will search for them. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” came the whispered response, “I’m sorry — we tried.”

“Try not to speak, my friend, you did your best and I am grateful for the attempt.”

He quickly searched the rest of the ship but found no-one else alive. He returned to the sole survivor and tried to make them more comfortable.

It was not long before the creature also died. Thomas hoped that she had been glad of the company rather than die alone.

He swiftly exited the vessel and retired to a safe distance. After a time, the craft eventually began to vibrate and the sound of tortured metal could be heard. After a minute of this, the ship imploded with such force, that the trees surrounding the site were stripped of their leaves.

There was nothing more to be done. Thomas gathered up his equipment and returned to the ridge where he had camped.

He would be on this planet for a little while longer, he realised.

Still, he thought, it wasn’t such a bad place. If the humans could just learn to live with each other, it would be wonderful. Perhaps it was finally time for him, and the others of his kind, to make their presence known.

Derrick Cameron

Written by

Lover of music, words & books. Fiction writer & reader. Husband, Father & Samaritan. Budding musician. Friend to people & animals. Fan of inner & outer space.

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