by Rachel Ford
Oh God. “Really?”
He nodded confidently. “These close encounters, everyone thinks they’re random. You know, like some curious big-brained alien scientist, just floating around up there looking for someone to kidnap to experiment on or whatever?” He scoffed. “That’s a bunch of idiocy.”
Alfred nodded his agreement, but warily. He felt instinctively that this foray into the reasonable was but an alternate path back to crazytown.
“Are you partial to the Hynek system or the Vallée?”
This was a question that he neither anticipated nor understood. So he stalled for time. “Well, uh, there’s advantages to both.”
“True,” Phil said. “Me, myself, I personally lean toward the Hynek.”
“Why?” Maybe, he thought, the answer would shed some light on what the Hynek system was. And, if nothing else, it would direct the conversation back to Phil, and away from himself.
“The simplicity. I don’t think we need all the subcategories Jacques Vallée built in.”
“Ah.” That clarified nothing for the taxman.
“Whereas, with the Hynek, you ask someone what kind of encounter they had, and the categories are very clear. Abducted? You’re a CE4. Saw lights after dark? NL.” He shrugged. “Especially for the layman, it’s easy.”
“That’s a good point,” Alfred demurred.
“Anyway, if you look at the CE1’s to CE3’s – everything pre-abduction – I think that’s Phase One.”
“Phase One?”
“Yup. That was investigation. Checking us out. The flybys, the mysterious landings, all that: they were scoping the planet out. Scoping us out.”
“Okay.”
“They were trying to establish compatibility.”
Alfred was almost afraid to ask, “Compatibility?”
Phil just nodded, though, and continued. “Phase Two – that’s where the CE4’s and CE5’s come in. When they started abducting us, and interacting on a psychological level.” He leaned forward, across the table until his face was very close to the taxman’s. Then he spoke, and his tones were low. “They’re seeding the planet.”
“Seeding…the planet?”
“That’s right. It’s the first wave.”
“Of what?”
“The next chapter in human evolution.”
Alfred was trying to keep the hypothesis – it certainly was not a theory in any established scientific use of the word, and he would not deign to credit it as such, even in his thoughts – straight in his mind. But he was admittedly getting a little lost among the other man’s harried use of sequential indicators. If he had it right, they were on the next chapter, which followed the first wave of the second phase of close encounters of the fourth and fifth degree. “Okay.”
Perhaps sensing his confusion, Phil explained, “They’re cross breeding with us, Alfred.”
Oh dear God. “They are?”
“Absolutely. It’s the only thing that makes sense. They’ve planted their seeds all over this world of ours.”
“Why?” Despite himself, he couldn’t help but ask.
“To create an improved human species.”
“Why?”
Phil shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe they just want to see our species advance. Maybe they need our DNA too. Maybe it’s a symbiotic relationship.”
“It’s…an interesting hypothesis,” the taxman managed.
“I haven’t even got to Phase Three.”
Son-of-a-biscuit…there’s more phases?
“Phase Three is when it moves out of the laboratories.”
“When…what does?”
“The seeding. See, Phase Two is the proof of concept. They’ve been at that for decades now. It’s been working.”
“It has?”
Phil nodded, as if Alfred’s comment was an affirmation rather than a question. “Exactly. So soon – I don’t know how soon, but soon – they’re going to start seeding with humans the most efficient way possible: the way we evolved to reproduce.”
“You mean…they’re going to start having sex with us?” It was like passing a wreck. He knew decency demanded that he turn away, but some masochistic instinct compelled him to watch.
Phil nodded again. “Not for pleasure, of course. They’ve evolved beyond that.”
“They have?”
“Yeah. A superior species isn’t driven by such primal urges. But everyone needs to reproduce. Even them.”
Alfred wrestled for a moment with the urge to laugh. Then, when it was under control, he said, “But what makes you think we’d be – you know – compatible?”
“Oh, they already proved that in Phase Two.”
“No,” the taxman shook his head. “They only proved that we’re biologically compatible: they could make test tube babies. Remember? But how do we know we’re anatomically compatible?”
Phil frowned. “Well, we’d have to be.”
“Why? For all we know, they’re two feet tall. They might be blobs of goo.”
The other man’s eyebrows raised, and for half a moment, Alfred wondered if he’d gone too far. Then, though, Phil grinned. “Well,” he said, “that’d certainly make the mechanics interesting, wouldn’t it?”
Chapter Five
Alfred didn’t escape Phil Fletcher until the sun was setting. He’d been subjected to several more of the other man’s theories, and he’d been made the offer – multiple times – that he could use any of those theories in his books. “I don’t need royalties or anything like that. But if you could mention my name, maybe, in the credits? That’d be sweet.”
The taxman promised, with all sincerity, that if ever he used one of Phil Fletcher’s theories in a book, he would credit him. Then, he promptly flushed the other man’s words out of his thoughts, as best as he was able.
Not that, if he was honest with himself, he’d ever quite manage to purge his mind of the memory of Phil’s eyebrows dancing with lecherous anticipation as he discussed alien “seeding.”
Alfred shivered at the thought. The day was mostly spent, now. He glanced around Sand Plains. The restaurants were booming, and a throng of visitors was headed to the town’s only theater. Its marquee promised moviegoers, “The Shocking Truth of Aliens in Ancient Egypt: The Tulli Papyrus.” But Alfred had had enough shocking truths for one day.
Now, he contemplated beginning the trek home. He had more or less answered the questions he’d come to answer: Landing Site Earth was as active and prosperous as any facility in the area. It wasn’t shuttered, it wasn’t the kind of dive that would scare off customers; business was booming, and traffic was heavy. That meant fraud was afoot. That meant they could proceed with the investigation.
Alfred yawned. It was a long drive back. He wouldn’t reach home until sometime after midnight, and he wasn’t keen on the prospect. He’d spent the better part of the morning on the road already.
Then he remembered the bed and breakfast at the end of town, and made up his mind to see if they had open rooms.
He parked by the pair of wooden aliens, and ambled in to an open sitting room. A bell sounded as he entered, and the matron behind the counter looked up. “Evening.”
“Good evening. Do you have a room?”
“As a matter of fact, we do.”
That, then, sealed the deal. The return trip would wait until the morning.
The room was small but comfortable, and he slept well enough. Breakfast the next morning was a simple affair of eggs and oatmeal, but it was still better than the food he’d got at Landing Site Earth the day before. The service, though, was decidedly less impressive. The matron seemed more intent on shooing her overnight guests away than anything else, and was just shy of openly rude.
Snapping a picture of the wooden aliens and their promise of “out of this world” service, he texted Nancy that it was, “A clear case of false advertising.”
She sent him a gif of a wet cat staring with annoyance into the camera, accompanied by an overlay of text that read, “
I trusted you, human.”
Alfred watched the animation a few times, laughing to himself, and then started his car.
The drive back was longer, it seemed, than it should have been. He was eager to report to Caspersen, but he was more eager to give Nancy her t-shirt, and fill her in on Phil. He’d saved the story of meeting Mr. Fletcher for in-person. It was too good to waste over the phone.
He made his way to his office, discarded his gear, and logged into his computer just to make sure nothing was waiting that couldn’t wait a little longer. A quick scan of his emails showed that he was safe to proceed. Grabbing the t-shirt, still folded in its bag, Alfred headed down the hall.
He hadn’t got fifteen feet out of his office, though, when Justin Lyon’s voice arrested his steps. “If you’re looking for Nancy, she’s not here.”
“Oh?” He was nonplussed by this news. He’d been anticipating everything he had to tell her with so much eagerness that he hadn’t considered the fact that she might not be around. “She’s not?”
“Nope.” Justin had rolled his seat to the door, and now he jutted his head out to watch Alfred. “A Josh Somebody came by. Picked her up for lunch.”
“Oh.” He felt his heart sink a little. He knew exactly who Josh Somebody would be: Sergeant Josh Stevenson. They’d met the former-marine-turned-private-security-contractor a few months ago in the Cretaceous Period, where he’d been stuck with a team from Futureprise Corporation. The soldier of fortune had gravitated to Nancy from their first meeting, and not even returning to their own time had managed to shake him. Still, he tried to conceal his concern, saying nonchalantly, “Oh, yeah, Josh is a friend of ours.”
“Well, he’s certainly a friend of Nancy’s,” Justin smirked. “I’d keep my eye on that one, Freddie.”
Alfred had no clever rejoinder. He was too distracted to even afford it much thought. He turned back to his office, the wind thoroughly out of his sails. Well, he thought, there’s nothing unusual about that. Josh and Nancy were friends. He couldn’t personally see the appeal in spending time with the oversized ape of a man, but Nance could pick her friends as she saw fit.
He turned his mind back to work. He should, he knew, report to Caspersen; she’d be waiting to hear how his trip went. It’ll wait, he decided. He didn’t feel quite up to rehashing everything.
So he stared at his email. The screen blurred in front of him, and he found himself listening for the sound of the badge reader at the far end of the hall. Lunch hour was wrapping up, and people were returning to their stations. She’d be back soon.
After a few false alarms, he heard her step in the hall. He poked his head out the office door, calling, “Nance,” just as she walked past.
She turned, a smile lighting up her features as she saw him. “You’re back.”
He waved her over. “I’ve got something to show you.”
“Should I be worried?” she grinned.
She was about half way to his office when Justin poked his head out again. “Nancy!” he greeted with a warmth that was a little too forced. “How was lunch?”
“Uh…good?”
“How’s your friend, that Josh guy? He’s military or something, right?”
Nancy seemed surprised by the question, but answered, “That’s right. Marine Corps.”
Justin nodded. “He on leave?”
“He’s out of the service.”
“Oh.” Lyon’s eyebrows rose. “Just visiting? Or thinking of moving to the area?”
“He’s got a place near here, actually.”
“Oh.” His eyebrows climbed a little higher up his forehead. “Really?”
“Yeah. He just closed on it two weeks ago.”
“Oh.” His eyebrows nearly reached his hairline at this point.
Receded hairline, Alfred thought pettily, though it is.
“Well,” Justin was continuing, “I guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of him now.”
Nancy frowned, and Alfred intervened. “Here,” he said, drawing her attention. “Let me show you this.” He ushered her into his office, and they shut the door.
“What was that all about?” she wondered.
“Who knows? With Justin, it could be anything,” he prevaricated. He had a very good idea of what Justin was getting at, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that would be easy to convey. At least, not in a way that didn’t leave him looking like a fool. “But here…I got you this.”
She glanced at the bag suspiciously, then back at Alfred. “What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
She did, and laughed as she read the caption. “Alright,” she said. “That’s pretty funny, actually.”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“Thanks, Alfred.”
He smiled. “Course. But I’ve got something even funnier to tell you. I met someone, a UFO enthusiast. He thought I was a writing a book – about UFOs.”
Nancy snorted.
“He had a theory –”
An alert sounded on her phone, and she glanced at it. Alfred wasn’t trying to read it, but his eyes were already looking in the general direction; and when he saw the name “Josh” appear on her screen, they did linger longer than they would have otherwise. He’d read the message by time he looked away. It said, “Thanks again Nance. Really appreciate the help.”
She smiled, then, as if in answer to the question in his eyes, shrugged, “Poor Josh. He’s been having a hard time putting together a resume that explains the last six years of his life. Without lying.”
“Resume?” Alfred frowned. “I thought he got some big payout from Futureprise?” The corporation’s CEO, Angie Garrity, had made restitution for the employees who had been trapped in prehistory a priority.
“Oh, he did get a settlement. But he doesn’t want to just sit around. He wants to get back to work, get back on his feet.”
It was, the taxman had to admit, an admirable sentiment. But he would allow himself nothing more than a begrudging, “Oh. You were helping him with it, then? The resume, I mean.”
She nodded. “Yeah. He took me out to lunch as a thanks.”
Stevenson, he knew well enough, would have been only too happy to forgo the pretexts if he thought he’d have a shot at getting Nancy to go out with him otherwise.
Nancy’s phone sounded again, and again Alfred let his gaze settle on the texts. Josh had written, “And I’m really looking forward to tomorrow night. See you then, Nance.”
“Tomorrow night?” he said aloud, before he could stop himself.
Nancy glanced up, mid-smile, to frown at him.
“Sorry,” he apologized quickly, “I didn’t mean to look. Just…I thought you were seeing that movie tomorrow?”
“I am,” she said. “I asked Josh to go with me.”
Alfred blinked. “You…you did?”
She shrugged. “I had the other ticket, and he was excited about it.” Then, she frowned again. “And no one else wanted to see it with me.”
For half a moment, they held each other’s gaze; and Alfred felt in that split second a bigger fool than he’d ever felt. He remembered her emphasis on the extra ticket, and how she’d lingered on the point. She wanted me to go – with her. His heart danced. Nancy had practically asked him out.
Then, his heart sank. He’d been too stupid to see it. He’d been so focused on the gift shop that he’d missed her hints.
A rush of courage overwhelmed the taxman and he spoke suddenly, before it could disappear. “Nance, I was thinking: maybe some time after work you and me could-”
His phone rang, now. He groaned, glancing at the number. “It’s Caspersen,” he said apologetically.
She nodded. “You better get it.”
He did. “Favero here.”
“Alfred, are you back yet?”
“Yes.”
“I thought I saw you had logged onto messenger. Where’s my report?”
“Uh…coming. I was headed right that way.”
“Good.”
; When he was off the phone, he said, “Sorry, Nance. Caspersen wants to see me right away.”
“Oh,” she said. “Yeah.”
“But…”
“Yes?”
“Let’s talk afterwards, okay?”
She nodded. “You know where to find me, Alfred.”
Chapter Six
“Sorry about that,” Alfred apologized as he stepped into Caspersen’s office. “I was just catching up-”
“With Nancy,” his boss said, shaking her head.
He blinked, wondering how the director possibly could have known that. “Well, uhh, yes.”
“I forget, sometimes,” she said dryly, “that you report to her. I keep thinking it’s me.”
He flushed. “I was on my way to you, Director Caspersen.”
“Of course you were.” She smirked to herself, but waved him to a chair. “Now, what did you find?”
Alfred ran through what he’d seen, and Caspersen nodded. “So they’ve got a reliable workforce, steady customers…that doesn’t prove they’re not squandering their income somehow, but it does establish that there is income anyway.”
“Exactly.”
“Good. So the next step is to talk to Michael Cassidy.”
“The son?”
She nodded. “Yes. I did some digging of my own, and the parents are out of town. I’d like to see what the son has to say for himself.”
“Alright,” he said.
“And I want you to do it.”
“Me?”
“That’s right. You know the numbers better than anyone else. I’d like you to be the one to confront him on them. And I want you to be there before the parents are back. Preferably, tomorrow.”
Alfred frowned. “You mean, go back there?”
She laughed. “No need to ask if you had a good time, then.”
It wasn’t the experience, though, that the taxman was concerned about. It was being gone another day at least, with Josh Stevenson around in his absence. “Couldn’t it wait until next week?”
Caspersen scrutinized him. “You were all gung-ho about this case two days ago. What happened, Favero?”
