Alien Affairs

On returning to Georgetown Carrie emptied the contents of her suitcase into a trash bag, stripped to the skin in her freezing garage and put those clothes into the bag as well. She closed the bag and put it in another bag before running upstairs and into the shower where she washed her hair three times. It was the middle of the afternoon, and exhausted though she was, she forced herself to write a report of the South American debacle before unwinding with a bottle of chardonnay. In bed with the news muted, she called her daughter.

“Guess what I’ve been doing?” she said to start the call.

“Shopping for baby clothes,” Sherrie said.

“Do you have good news for me?”

“No, but I thought you might make presumptions.”

“I might, but I’ve been too busy babysitting an alien to think about much else.”

“You say what?”

“This may be labeled secret, but as yet I haven’t been told that. Anyway, keep it to yourself. Somebody in Argentina captured one of the aliens. His name is Onath. I went down there to translate and negotiate with my contact, Deshler, to get information about where the timed release virus canisters are.”

“Did you find out?”

“No, Deshler is willing to throw Onath to the wolves. He almost rescued him though. We got him out on our Company plane just minutes before the saucers landed. It was a real space cowboy thriller.”

“My mom the alien buster. Can they get Sigourney Weaver to play you in the movie?”

“I just wanted to let you know we’re still trying to get you out of there. If we can find the canisters you can probably come out in just two years.”

“Just two years. Do you know what it’s like living in a cave with four-hundred people? And did you know that there are three-hundred girls and only one-hundred guys? What’s with that?”

“I didn’t have anything to do with the selection process, but it looks like somebody thought babies were more important than monogamy.”

“Yeah, well, if that’s the way they’re going to play, they’re going to play without me. It’s boring.”

“I hear they give you anything you want and that you’ve got all sorts of things to entertain you,” Carrie said in a conciliating tone.

“It’s still a cave.”

“What are the results of your latest medical tests?”

“I’m still fertile so the filters must be working.”

“Great, so find some nice looking guy and seduce him.”

“Mother.”

“I’m beat and the wine has just about overpowered my jetlag, so good night, honey. Love you.”

When Carrie walked into the bullpen the next morning, Jan said, “I’m sorry I missed the fun.”

“You’re not sorry you missed the stink. God, it’s awful.”

“The director wants to see you, now.”

“Oh, shit, what now?”

“Nothing she let us peons in on.”

Carrie had to wait for the director to finish a call from the president. “Sit down, Carrie. Whiney Boy is upset that your new friend, Onath, is in American custody.”

“Why, for Christ sake?”

“Makes us look like bullies in the interstellar community,” Turnbull said scowling. “So, have you talked to Deshler or Onath since you left Chile?”

“No, I’m at a loss for what to say now.”

“Overton is no help?”

“No, he thinks I should offer Deshler a roll in the sack.”

“Kinky bastard. Well, there is some news from the CDC. They know how the virus does what it does.”

“Does that move us closer to a cure?”

“It’s a baby step.”

“What’s it do?”

“Several things they say. First it scrambles the DNA of the X and Y chromosomes making fertilization impossible, then it robs the cells of things called estrogen receptors, so hormone replacement therapy can’t reverse the onset of premature menopause.”

“Doesn’t that turn every post-pubescent girl into an old lady?” Carrie asked and cringed at the thought of Sherrie being exposed through some accident.

“Too soon to tell. They are worried about osteoporosis in young women and all the usual menopause claptrap, but they don’t have enough data yet. How’s your daughter?”

“I talked to her last night and she says she’s still fertile but has no prospects—the little ingrate.”

Turnbull said, “Oh, by the way, three Argentine fighters were destroyed before you waved off Deshler. The American planes didn’t get there before your pals were back in orbit.”

“Did we learn anything about their offensive weapons?” Carrie asked.

“The Argentinians report only that no evidence of a projectile was found. It appears to be an energy weapon of some kind. They also say there is no trace of radiation on the wreckage. We’ve got NTSB guys on the way.”

“I’m sure you saw in my report that Onath said they could ‘neutralize’ everybody in the area while they made their rescue attempt. I took neutralize to be a euphemism for kill.”

“Of course. They didn’t deal with the fighter pilots in a non-lethal way, why should they mollycoddle the foot soldiers?”

“How are we doing in checking all the landing sites?”

“Oh, that. We have the Army Corps of Engineers, all our field agents, the FBI, the Brits and Germans searching high and low, and we’ve barely scratched the surface. The sons of bitches set down over five-thousand times. We even have the Seals and the Rangers on it because some of the places are a bitch to get to. We need the coordinates from your buddy.”

Carrie sensed the meeting was over. “So, what do you want me to do now?”

“The usual, talk to Deshler, check with Gibbs and Overton and keep me posted. One more thing,” Turnbull said with a laugh, “they had to gut the interior of the plane to the ribs to get rid of the smell.”

As Carrie entered her office suite Eddy was downloading his contact list into his newly requisitioned phone and grumbling. “Why’d you have to take my phone? Now some alien is going to be harassing my girlfriends.”

“Onath doesn’t go for girls,” Carrie said.

Eddy wrinkled his nose. “He seemed pretty metro-sexual to me.” He looked around the room at his teammates. “By the way, how do I smell?”

Carrie just shook her head and went into her office to call Deshler.

“Come, Carrie Player, your resourcefulness is boundless.”

“And you are a sneaky bastard.”

“I am sure you would have attempted the same.”

“So, what is next? My demands have not changed.”

“Think about this, Carrie Player. The longer we linger around your planet, the more harm that befalls your species. Since you insist on attacking us, we are forced to defend ourselves.”

“About that, how did you destroy the fighter aircraft?”

“The weapon is a simple coherence of gravity waves.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“The pulse excites the target’s subatomic particles to such a degree that protons degenerate into particles and antiparticles and naturally annihilate themselves.”

“Naturally. Deshler, as much as I enjoy our talks, I do want to see you safely on your way home, so what do you want to do about Onath?”

“As we like to say, ‘we are trapped on opposite sides of the event horizon.’ I am afraid that we will have to exert pressure to force you to release Onath.”

“Now you are threatening me.”

“Do you expect us to do nothing? I voted to leave him with you, but his shipmates feel an attachment that I find hard to understand.”

“What are you going to do?”

“As you know, we have been taking specimens to test the effectiveness of the virus. Until now we have released them very quickly, as we did your friend, Eddy. We will now stop releasing them until you release Onath.”

Carrie felt like she was punched in the gut. “You are going to hold all those smelly humans in your ships?”

“No, we will keep them in the artificial satellite that we recently evacuated.”

“You cannot do that. You will put people in there who do not know how to operate the machinery. They will damage it and destroy the life support systems.”

“Release Onath.”

“Tell me where the canisters are.”

“See, we are back at the event horizon. Going.”

Deshler terminated the call. Carrie dialed him again but it went to voicemail. She left a message pleading with him to at least abduct some astronauts who were familiar with the space station.

Several minutes later, as she was downloading the recording of the call, she received a text that said, “In two rotations of the planet, reckoned from your location, have your party waiting at coordinates 11.6040209, 165.3829193.”

Carrie copied the numbers and called Director Turnbull who said that she was on her way. She carried the sticky note into the bullpen and stuck it on Eddy’s desk pad. “Where is this?” she said.

“I’ve haven’t downloaded that app to my new phone,” he said snottily. “Let me Google it.” He opened Google Maps and entered the latitude and longitude. A lonely island appeared surrounded by empty blue. “It’s the Bikini Atoll,” he said.

Carrie said, “Shit. What US territory is close to there?”

“Nothing is close to there. That’s why we went there to test hydrogen bombs,” Paul said.

“Does anybody still live there?” Carrie asked.

Paul said, “Yeah, we took them back in the sixties or seventies and they’re still suing us.”

“But they’ve all got three eyes and six fingers,” Eddy added.

At that point Georgia Turnbull bulled her way through the door. “Okay, where is the rendezvous?”

“Bikini Atoll,” Eddy said.

“Christ! How many time zones is that from here?”

Eddy said, “Just a minute.”

Carrie said, “Are we going to force astronauts to do this?”

“I’m hoping we get some volunteers,” Turnbull said. “Let me use your office to call NASA.”

“It’s only six hours earlier,” Eddy said.

“That doesn’t matter,” Carrie said. “He said reckoned from here. We’ve got forty-eight hours but it will be earlier in the day when they land at Bikini.”

“I guess that’s good. Let me get NASA on the phone. Carrie, you can join me.”

Turnbull got her contact at NASA on the line, put him on the speakerphone and gave him the situation. “Jesus, Georgia, why do you keep doing these things to me?”

“It’s not me, it’s Carrie’s friend with the big buggy eyes.”

“Well, it will take some time. We don’t just keep astronauts in a dugout here waiting to put them in the game. Why don’t you get our pal in the White House to see if he can sweet talk some cosmonauts out of Putin?”

“I’ll call but I’ll hate every minute of it. Get back to me and get a plane ready that can land there. Do they even have an airport?”

“Oh, yeah, I went fishing there once, but you fly into Kwajalein Atoll.”

“What did you catch?”

“A two headed marlin.”

“Cute. Show me the trophy next time I’m at your house.”

“You want me to leave while you talk to the president?” Carrie asked.

“No, stay here so you can take some of the blame.”

“Thanks.”

The president was unavailable.

“Well, he needs to get available,” Turnbull shouted at the White House operator. “We have a new situation here with the little gray spacemen.”

The president took long enough to return the call that Turnbull had time to track Admiral Alexander to ask what assets he had near Bikini. “We try to stay away from there. Whenever the islanders see us, it reminds them to file another lawsuit,” he said. “Although we do have Bucholz Airfield on Kwajalein. That’s where you’ll have to land. We can get you to Bikini by chopper but there is probably not much firepower there.”

Turnbull said, “I’m assuming you can get some big guns there by tomorrow.”

“You want us to detonate another nuclear warhead on Bikini? Those poor bastards are the most bombed people on the planet.”

“Can’t be helped. They should be used to it by now.”

Jan buzzed to say the president was on hold. Turnbull took the call and put it on the speaker. She explained the situation and emphasized the need for cosmonauts at Bikini Atoll—stat.

The president said, “How do we know that Player woman isn’t stirrin’ things up? We only have her word as to what they talk about.”

Carrie said, “Why, you—”

Turnbull slapped her hand over Carrie’s mouth.

“What’s going on there? Is Ms. Player listenin’?”

“Yes, Carrie is here in case we need clarification,” Turnbull said trying not to laugh.

“Well, look, I think we oughta let the alien go. That’ll end all this fuss and make us look a lot better to the world and the universe.”

“To the universe?” Turnbull said looking incredulously at Carrie. “Mr. President, until we got our hands on this alien, we had absolutely no leverage with them. Now, at least we have a Méxican standoff. However, we have to assume that they will succeed in taking hostages—they’ve been abducting people at will for weeks. Therefore, we have to let them take a qualified crew to the space station to run the life support systems.”

“And you want me to talk to Putin again? You know I hate that.”

“Can’t be helped. Tell him to get some experienced cosmonauts to the Bikini Atoll in forty-seven hours.”

“Dammit, I don’t like gettin’ boxed in. This better be the last time.” Carrie heard the receiver slam before the line went dead.

“My God, he’s an immature asshole,” Carrie said.

Turnbull only scowled and left.

Carrie’s phone rang with the default ringtone. The caller ID told her it was Onath. “Come, Onath, how are you?”

“Come, I am not too unhappy. I have been eating all manner of things that they offer me and I find it most very satisfying.”

“Is there something I can do for you?” she asked.

“Mostly I needed somebody to talk to. My jailers avoid me except at mealtime. Honestly, I prefer that they stay downwind. Why can I not contact Deshler with the communication device that you gave me?”

“You do not know his number and I am not going to tell you. I don’t want him to locate you again.”

“It is just as well. I prefer talking to you, Carrie Player. Deshler is a prig.”

“That is not nice, Onath. Deshler is taking human hostages to try to secure your release.”

“Will it work?”

“No. You are our only bargaining chip.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you give us leverage. We can make demands of Deshler if we have you.”

“Deshler will never concede.”

“How long do you suppose he will wait before he abandons you?”

“Not very long.”

“He said your shipmates refused to leave you.”

“They will not do so forever. What will happen to me if my associates forsake me?”

“Well,” Carrie had to think, “I am sure that scientists will want to examine and interview you. When they tire of that, I suppose you will be given a comfortable place to live for the rest of your days like you do with the humans on your own planet.”

“A most distressing proposition.”

“Give up the location of a canister and you are one step closer to being back with your own kind.”

“That I cannot do.”

“Suit yourself. Going.” She ended the call and no sooner than it disconnected, the director called.

“Carrie, get your ass down to the Cape. I want you to go to Bikini with the astronauts. We have two volunteers, neither has experienced the stink.”

Carrie smiled. “That’s hardly fair. Why do I have to go to Bikini?”

“Brief the astronauts and cosmonauts on alien etiquette and I want you on hand in case there is any contact. You’re our only translator, for Christ sake.”

“So, there are cosmonauts?”

“Yeah, there’s two—the same two who came down with Deshler. I guess they think they can reproduce the good times they had when the hookers were onboard.”

“Go figure a Russian,” Carrie said. “All right, I’ll go to Florida. Do I get a Learjet?”

Carrie heard a heavy sigh. “Yes, you can have a Learjet. Hurry up. It’s a long flight to Bikini.”

Carrie hurried home to pack, and since she had recently put a large part of her summer wardrobe in the trash, deciding what to take went quickly. At the end, she said a mental, ‘what the hell,’ and threw in a bathing suit.

During the flight to Cape Canaveral she called Deshler.

“Come, Carrie Player, how are you?”

“Come, Deshler, I am fine and I am on my way to accompany the astronauts you will take to the space station.”

“Excellent, perhaps we shall meet.”

“That would be lovely,” she said and pinched her nose. “I’ve been talking to Onath. He is anxious to rejoin the crew.”

“You have? Did you take him to the place where you live?”

“No, he is far away but in the control of my countrymen, so he is safe and secure from another rescue attempt.”

“How do you communicate with him if he is far away?”

“Give us a break, Deshler, we do have worldwide communication.”

“So he has one of your communication devices?”

“Yes, I gave it to him so he can call me if he needs to talk with his captors.”

“So he can call the same device that I call. That is interesting. I hope we meet soon, Carrie Player. Going.”

“Going.” After the call Carrie wondered why he had not ask if he could call Onath. “Probably knew I’d refuse,” she thought.

When the passengers and crew of the flight to Bikini discovered that Carrie was their translator and ambassador, she became quite the celebrity. They flew on a 737 with two astronauts, their gear, several technicians, an astrophysicist and a crew of ten. The plane was modified to accommodate freight, it offered a real galley and had a mind-bending array of telemetry and radar equipment. Also, onboard were three contract security operatives with assault rifles and shoulder-fired surface-to-air missiles.

“Those aren’t likely to do you a bit of good,” Carrie told one of the security men. “We nuked them and they just shook it off.”

“Maybe,” he replied, “but we just like havin’ ’em on hand.”

The passenger cabin was fitted with first class accoutrements—conversation groups of fully reclining, leather upholstered seats. Carrie relaxed in a seating cluster with the astronauts and the astrophysicist.

“So, what should we know about these guys?” an astronaut with the name ‘Lance’ embroidered on his NASA shirt asked.

“The first and foremost thing is that they have a rather strong body odor,” she said. “You’ll want to keep your spacesuits on with a portable air supply.”

“You’re kidding,” astronaut ‘Bud’ said.

“Not at all. It will make you cry. I spent a couple hours in a small plane with one and had to trash all my clothes.”

“No shit?” Bud said.

“I shit you not. Straight in the trash, I wouldn’t even unpack in the house and I threw away the suitcase too.”

“Is it too late to back out?” Lance said.

Carrie said, as if she were in charge, “Yep, you have to fly the space station and take care of the hostages.”

The scientist’s name was Ernie. He said, “I don’t quite get this. Once the hostages are in the space station, why can’t we simply ferry them back to earth?”

“Well,” Carrie said a little self-importantly, “the biggest reason is we don’t go into space anymore, and besides, our friend Deshler wasn’t born yesterday. He’ll stand guard.”

“Remarkable,” Ernie said looking at Carrie as if she were a celebrity. “What is it like to talk to a creature from another world?”

“It’s like talking to any horny asshole with both kinds of reproductive gear.”

That grabbed attention.

“So, you can relate to him as if he were human?” Ernie asked.

Carrie had to think. “Yes, I suppose so. It’s not like talking to an amoeba. He has a personality.”

“How do you account for his name being fairly common in German communities?”

“He says that by having contact early in the evolution of our species they inadvertently left artifacts in our culture.”

“It is amazing to ponder how much of us might be them.”

“Do you really believe that they made us?” Lance asked. He looked like a movie star astronaut and Carrie, thinking of Sherrie, wondered if he had a sperm bank account.

“After talking to Deshler, I do. They know so much about our past I do believe that they have been involved with us for millions of years.”

“Imagine a civilization being old enough to invest in a project of that scale,” Bud said. “We can’t even focus our attention long enough go to Mars.”

“It does make you feel sort of immature,” Carrie said.

Ernie, the astrophysicist said dreamily, “I wonder what powers their ships.”

“Well, would you like to ask Deshler?”

“Seriously?”

“He’s just a phone call away.” She dialed him and put the phone on speaker.

“Come, Carrie Player, are you still going to the rendezvous point?”

“I am in the air as we speak. I will be there in less than half a planetary rotation.”

“Excellent.”

“I am with some people who would like to ask you some questions. Do you have time?”

“Yes, there is little for me to do until you arrive at the coordinates. I suppose you will be armed.”

Carrie laughed and translated for the others. “I won’t be armed but some of my companions will be. Now, the question from one of our scientists is what propels your ships?”

“Ah, it is simple. Deep space is full of subatomic particles and antiparticles. We capture them and when they annihilate themselves we focus the released energy in the direction opposite of where we wish to go. By redirecting the energy we are able to maneuver quite abruptly. The source of the energy is limitless, of course.”

Carrie translated and Ernie asked, “There are no antiparticles anywhere on earth. What propels them when they are in our atmosphere?”

Carrie relayed the question.

Deshler said, “We can store a sufficient amount of antiparticles to spend a short time within the atmosphere of a planet, but we are rather like you when you dive into water, you have to come up for air rather frequently.”

Carrie intrigued her travel companions until her phone battery grew weak. “Deshler, I have to end the conversation and recharge my communication device.”

“It was very rewarding to answer the intelligent questions your colleagues posed.”

“Meaning my questions are unintelligent?”

Deshler laughed. “Of course not, Carrie Player, you are a clever and cunning specimen. Will you give a message to Onath?”

“Yes.”

“Tell him that his shipmates are united against me and will not abandon him and that soon we will have enough human hostages to force you to capitulate.”

“I will tell him. Going.”

“Going.”

Everyone who was not actually flying the plane had gathered around to hear the voice of an alien and to listen to Carrie’s translation. When the call ended they bombarded her with questions that eventually drew from her the entire Roswell story, through Uncle Miles’ days all the way to her time with Onath. Then she remembered Deshler’s message.

“Excuse me,” she told her court, “I have to deliver a message to our hostage.”

She dialed Eddy’s phone number and Onath said, “Come.”

“Come, Onath, I have a message from Deshler. He wants to assure you that you will not be abandoned and he is taking humans as prisoners for the purpose of exchanging them for you.”

“Deshler is never so altruistic.”

“Maybe having contact with an empathetic species has softened his heart.”

“His circulatory organ is hardly a factor. The only body parts he cares about are those that respond to rhythmic stimulation.”

Carrie could not repress an explosive laugh. People around her looked quizzical. “Onath, you kill me.”

“I hope that is never necessary.”

“Are they feeding you well?”

“Yes, it is very satisfactory. I shall miss the novel gastronomic experiences.”

“If you tell me where the canister is I will have them send a supply of earth food back with you.”

“Carrie Player, you are a temptress.”

“Now you sound like Deshler.”

“That is distressing. Why do I keep getting calls from female humans who cannot understand me?”

“That’s because you are using the communication device of a promiscuous human male.”

“I see. Ah, my meal has arrived. Going.”

“Going.”

Carrie was suddenly seized by a panicky thought. Could Onath’s location be determined from the signal of her phone? She found the telemetry expert and put the question to him. He said, “No, because your calling another satellite phone. With a directional antennae you could find the source but not the target.”

“Okay, thanks,” she said, but she still felt uneasy.