Alien Affairs

The flight back to Florida was more somber than the flight to Bikini, and everyone exposed to the blast, save Carrie who kept the jeans and tee shirt she had borrowed, wore Air Force issued coveralls. In the absence of alien phone calls to pass the time, they played draw poker. It was raining at Cape Canaveral when the modified 737 landed, and Carrie was pleasantly surprised to find the Company Learjet waiting to take her to Virginia. The pilot gave her the phone that the director had promised. Instead of calling Deshler, she called Sherrie.

“Hello, dear, I’m back,” Carrie said.

“I didn’t know you were gone,” Sherrie replied a little brusquely.

“I had an eventful couple of days. I’ve been to the Bikini Atoll.”

“Where is that?”

“In the middle of the Pacific Ocean.”

“What did you go there for?”

“To send some astronauts back to the space station in a flying saucer, but the aliens changed their minds when Deshler rescued Onath and the Russians blew two saucers out of the sky with nuclear warheads and I got a big dose of radiation.”

“You really need a different job.”

“I found a nice guy for you. He’s an astronaut.”

“Great! He’ll be in space and I’ll be underground. Anyway, if he’s up there, he’s sterile.”

“I know, but I’m sure he made a sperm bank deposit.”

“Mother! You didn’t ask him that did you?”

“No, I didn’t, but I will if you want me to.”

“Did that radiation dose affect your brain? I’m still stuck down here and I’ve never even seen the guy.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to visit you there.”

“And bring his frozen sperm with him? Mother, you’ve completely lost it.”

“How about if I give him your phone number.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Okay, I’ve got to call Deshler now to see if he’s going to blow something up in retaliation for the Russians killing his friends.”

“I don’t believe this. Have fun with the alien. Bye.”

“Bye, dear. Love you.”

As the plane accelerated down the runway, before she could dial Deshler, a call arrived from the director. “Carrie, we’ve got a situation. Have you talked to your pal yet?”

“No, I was just going to call him.”

“We’ve got some news for him. An asset close to the Russian space program has informed us that Putin is loading a Soyuz capsule with two-hundred megatons of warheads and they intend to track him down and blow him to smithereens.”

“Two-hundred megatons sounds like a lot.”

“It’s four times the largest atomic blast ever.”

“How do I explain megatons to an alien?”

“I thought of that. Check your email. I had a physicist describe one joule of energy in purely graphic form. Two-hundred megatons is 840,000 terajoules. If Deshler’s as smart as he thinks he is, he’ll figure it out.”

“I have no idea what 840,000 terajoules is?”

“It’s a lot of energy. The combined energy of the two blasts you just witnessed was about 850 terajoules. Just remember the number.”

“Have the Russians launched yet?”

“No, the rocket is still on a pad in Kazakhstan.”

“I’ll warn him but why the change of heart? You were all for blowing them up two days ago.”

“Call me fickle. I still think you can wheedle the locations of those canisters out of him—it.”

“Okay, I’m on it, but I need a favor.”

“What?”

“I need an email address for Lance, the astronaut who went to Bikini with us.”

“Carrie, this is no time for a tryst.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for my daughter.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Carrie opened her email and downloaded the attachment. If the star map had been Greek, this was Sanskrit, but she sent it to Deshler with the message: ‘Call me when you understand this.’ Then she reclined her seat and closed her eyes.

She did not get to rest long. “Come, Carrie Player, what are you trying to tell me?”

“Come. Do you understand that rhombus?”

“It says that one joule, as you reckon it, is equal to the energy released by the fission of 30,864,197,530 atoms of the element having 143 neutral particles and 92 positive particles. Yes, it is clear. Why is this of interest?”

“Because the Russians are coming for you with 840,000 trillion joules of destructive power.”

“Oh, well, that is a lot of energy. These Russians are troublesome creatures.”

“You have no idea. Would your defenses be able to contain that size of an explosion?”

“No, they would not. Do you see now why it was necessary to prevent your species from entering the stellar neighborhood?”

“Give it a rest, Deshler. I am trying to help you avoid the fate of your teammates.”

“And I appreciate it. Where are these Russians with their weapon now?”

“The weapon is still on earth. Do you want me to get the coordinates?”

“Yes, that would be helpful.”

“Are you going to detonate the atomic weapons in the atmosphere?”

“That would be harmful for you, not that you have long to live. No, we can simply destroy the delivery vehicle.”

“You are all heart, Deshler.”

“You are still fascinated by the size of my circulatory organ.”

“I told you before, it is the size of a different organ that interests me.”

“You are doing it again, Carrie Player.”

“I will send you the coordinates. Going.”

“Going.”

Carrie then called Eddy to get the coordinates of the Baikonur Cosmodrome. He said, “Don’t you have Google? It’s at forty-five point six five two five four two latitude and sixty-three point three one three nine eight six longitude.”

“I knew that. I was just testing you.”

“Yeah, right.”

She sent Deshler a text and called the director. “Deshler is on his way to Kazakhstan to blow up the rocket without detonating the bomb.”

“He’s a good alien. Did you find out where the canisters are?”

“No.”

“I take back what I just said about him.”

“This is going to piss old Putin off,” Carrie said.

“Is it ever. He’ll be on the phone to Whiney Boy in no time.”

“Are you going to warn the president?”

“Hell, no.”

“You’re pure evil.”

“It’s a prerequisite for this job.”

Carrie crawled under the covers with a glass of chardonnay and reflected for a moment before she unmuted the news that she may have never been so glad to be in her own bed. The correspondent broadcasting from Moscow said that Tass only reported a rocket exploded during take-off. They were not forthcoming with any word of alien involvement. “Typical damn Russians,” Carrie thought.

The next thing she knew her phone was ringing. She had not assigned ringtones yet so she answered, “Hello.”

“Come, Carrie Player, did I wake you?”

“Oh, Deshler, come. No, I was awake. You did good in Kazakhstan.”

“Thank you, it was a small task. We now feel sufficiently vindicated for what these Russians did to us. Your assistance was much appreciated.”

“I was glad to do it. Now, tell me where the aerosol canisters are.”

Deshler laughed and ignored her. “I am sad to report that we will be leaving soon. I shall miss our conversations.”

“I will miss them too, Deshler.”

“I am sorry that we did not get to meet on the island.”

“I am too and I am sorry about your friends.”

“Most of them were not really friends. By the way, Onath sends his good wishes.”

“Same to Onath. When will you leave?”

“One rotation of the planet. I have only one item of unfinished business to attend.”

“What is that?”

“You will know very soon. Going.”

“Deshler, what?”

Deshler terminated the call. Carrie experienced the falling sensation of sudden fear. She sat on the edge of the bed fumbling for the light. She was going to dial Georgia Turnbull but the phone chirped the signal of an incoming text. It was alien script. It said, ‘Meet me at 33.4112175, -104.6008534 in exactly one planetary revolution. Come alone.’

She thought about waking Eddy, but instead went to her computer and started Google Maps. She entered the coordinates, watched the map materialize, smiled, and said out loud, “That romantic little bastard—Roswell, New Mexico.”