Alien Affairs
Chapter 13

In the limousine the first thing Turnbull did was call SpaceX at Vandenberg. When she finished the call, she said, “They’re ready to start fueling tomorrow. Do whatever you can to keep your little gray buddy occupied.”

Carrie just nodded wearily as the director called NASA. She explained the plan then Carrie heard her say heatedly, “They can either ride in a damn flying saucer or get their asses shot out of the sky.” She listened, then said, “Look, we are in communication with the aliens. This is the best deal we could get.” After she terminated the call, she said to Carrie, “Dumb bastard doesn’t believe the CIA can talk to aliens.”

“Go figure.”

“Carrie’s phone vibrated. The display said ‘Very Large Array.’ She answered and put it on the speaker. While she listened she said, “It’s Deshler telling the other two ships what he is going to do.”

“Is he the mission commander?”

“It doesn’t seem like it. Each ship seems to be autonomous.”

“Does he say when?” Turnbull asked.

“Shh...”

Carrie listened closely and heard Deshler say, “Carrie Player, I know you are listening. Have your people outside the satellite in one quarter revolution.”

Carrie said, “Shit! It’s in six hours.”

Then Deshler said, “I will tell the coordinates of where I leave the humans after I am back in orbit. Going.”

“Suspicious little bastard won’t tell me where he’s going to land,” Carrie said.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and spot him on radar.”

“That’s Deshler’s ship. If we shoot it down we can’t communicate with the other two.” The director gave her a wary look.

Turnbull called NASA back to give them the timetable. She ended the call as the limousine arrived at Langley. “They’ll be ready to go EVA in six hours and they’re going to broadcast live video to us. Call your alien friend and tell him to wave at you.”

In the bullpen of Carrie’s Department of Alien Affairs they started watching the video when it went live four hours later. The screen showed nothing but empty space. Eddy entered the room with a bowl of popcorn.

Carrie said to him, “This is a history making event, not a sci/fi movie.”

“It’s pretty much both. Have some popcorn. Can’t you swing a ride for me in a flying saucer?”

“If I could I would do it in a heartbeat.”

An hour later Director Turnbull joined the party. “Nothing happening yet?” she asked.

Eddy said, “Nada.” And then he said, “Holy shit, look.”

A massive silvery disc drifted into the picture. Carrie felt her throat constrict. The ship appeared featureless but its magnitude dwarfed one of the solar panel arrays now visible in the image.

Minutes crawled past with nothing occurring and the room remained silent. Carrie wanted to shout. She wanted to make something happen. She wanted to look away from the television screen. Then an opening appeared in the side below the rim of the disc. She didn’t see a door swing or slide—the lighted rectangular void simply seemed to appear. Several moments later a cable shot from the interior and grappled the space station. Then nothing else happened.

Georgia Turnbull said, “I told them to drag their feet.”

“They must all be scared shitless,” Paul said.

“I’m scared shitless and I’m not there,” Carrie admitted.

Eddy said, “Come on, this is cool.”

“At least we can feel certain they aren’t going to be harmed since they didn’t just blow up the space station,” Jan said.

“I trust Deshler, but it’s still got to be pretty damned hard to go through that door,” Carrie said.

“Look, here they come,” Eddy said.

A lone spacesuited figure floated into view and pulled itself hand over hand along the tether. It slowly crossed the space between the two craft and vanished into the brightly lit interior of Deshler’s ship. A few minutes later the second space station occupant appeared and crossed the gap. When the seventh pulled himself along the tether, he waited, silhouetted at the threshold of the doorway until a diminutive figure approached from within pushing a weightless bundle much larger than itself. The cosmonaut―Cyrillic characters were visible on his spacesuit―seized the parcel, saluted the alien and started back to the space station. The helmeted figure watched the Russian’s progress for a time before turning and disappearing into the craft.

“Do you suppose that was Deshler?” Turnbull asked.

Carrie said, “They all look alike to me.”

It took half an hour for the first of the second group to emerge from the space station and begin the tentative crossing. Carrie supposed it was one of the Russian women and she felt a pang of sympathy. It could not be an easy thing to do. The next passenger to enter the field of view was being physically restrained by the cosmonaut. She struggled to return to the security of the space station the whole way along the tether. At the end of the crossing the alien again appeared and took the clearly hysterical hooker from the Russian’s arms. He crossed the gap again and the remainder of the humans went peacefully to their fate. The tether retracted and the opening vanished. After several minutes the saucer accelerated from the view of the camera at speed that defied the laws of inertia. The Twilight Zone theme made everyone in the room jump.

“Come,” Deshler said, “Carrie Player, the stench is intolerable.”

“Come, Deshler, it must be just as bad for your passengers.”

“Ask them yourself.”

An American voice came on the line. “Who is this? How is this possible? Where are they taking us?”

Carrie had the call on speaker. Director Turnbull said, “This is Georgia Turnbull, CIA. We’ve been in communication with your hosts for some time trying to change their minds. We can assure you that you will be safely returned to earth.”

“I hope it’s a short ride. This place stinks like hell.”

A chuckle ran through the bullpen.

“They say the same thing about you.”

“How is it the CIA can talk to aliens?”

“That’s classified information. Just be glad we can. How is everyone holding up?”

“Some of the girls are clamped in a group hug bawling their eyes out, but in general everyone is okay.”

“Good. As soon as we know where they drop you, we’ll get you picked up,” the director said.

“Thanks. I’m sure we will all appreciate it. Here’s the pilot again.”

“Carrie Player, I will give you coordinates very soon. Going.”

“Going.”

Turnbull said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ve got to tell NORAD they’re about to enter the atmosphere.”

Part of Carrie hoped Deshler would land far from the reach of NORAD’s air-to-air missiles, but she kept it to herself.

After twenty odd minutes the director returned and saw the feed from the space station still on the big flat screen. “Turn that off,” she said. “It’s depressing.”

Carrie’s phone chimed the tone of an incoming text message. She saw the alien characters recognizing them as numbers. “He just sent the coordinates.” She grabbed a sticky notes pad from Jan’s desk and began to translate. “It’s negative 24.7813537 latitude by negative 64.526634 longitude. Where the hell is that?”

Eddy took the note from her and typed the numbers into his phone. “It’s bum fuck Argentina. Almost in the Amazon jungle.”

“Shit! Carrie, did you tell him to land where we have no assets?”

“Goddammit, if you think I would do that, get yourself another translator.”

“Calm down. I didn’t mean that.”

“The fact that you said it means you thought it.”

“All right. It was wrong and I know it. I apologize. I don’t even know how we’re going to get them.”

“Dump it on NASA,” Carrie suggested.

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