Ship's Log

by Lawrence P White

  “Help!” she cried weakly. Her eyes opened half way, imploring him. He moved closer, but he was reluctant to touch her. “Medicine,” she said.

  “All I have is a little first aid cream and aspirin. Where’s the rest of your crew?”

  “Only me,” she said. She lifted her eyes toward the back of the craft and said, “Medicine,” again.

  He stood up and shuffled back to the area of compartments aft of the seats. “Here?” he called, touching a cabinet. No response. "Here?" he asked moving to the next.

  “Yes.”

  “How do I open it?”

  “Touch.”

  He laid his palm on the wall and pushed hard. Snick! A door slid up, and he stared into a compartment. He removed a bin of sealed packages and brought it to her.

  He showed her one item after another until she said, “Yes. Spray.” He hesitated, still reluctant to touch her.

  She seemed to understand. Closing her eyes, she gathered strength again from some hidden place. She focused on him, seeming to consider him for the first time, and said, “I am no danger to you.”

  He still hesitated, and she let out a low moan as she closed her eyes and slumped back to the floor. His hesitation turned to pity—of course he would help.

  He cut the ragged edges of her clothes away from the burned area, which included the left side of her neck, her left shoulder and side, most of her back and buttocks, and her left leg down to her boot where the burns ended. Her eyes closed, and she tensed as he sprayed her neck, then she jerked spasmodically as he moved the spray down her body. He gritted his teeth, feeling nauseous, but he kept at it until the container was empty. Her body continued trembling after he was done. He stood up angrily and threw the container out into the clearing in frustration. There was little else he could do.

  The spray firmed into a soft, plastic-like covering, and he realized it would suffice as a bandage until he could find something better. He hoped she would pass out from the pain. She had been tested beyond any reasonable limits, and what he was going to put her through would be a nightmare for both of them.

  He sat by her side and studied her while he waited. Had she not been an alien, and had her burns not been so horrific, she would have been a very attractive woman, maybe ten or fifteen years his junior. Alien or human though, she was an intelligent being in need of comfort. He would do what he could for her.

  To his surprise, she stayed conscious and demanded more medicine. He went through the packages in the container until they reached agreement on another item. When he unwrapped it, he discovered a small disk the size of a quarter.

  “Gray bag, find,” she commanded.

  He set the disk down and searched the craft. He discovered a partially full, cloth bag lying beside one of the side-facing seats and dragged it across the floor to her.

  Imploring him with her eyes, every word clearly an effort, she said, “Bring. Please. Very important.”

  “What? All this? No way!” He knelt beside her, his injured leg making the movement awkward. He touched her cheek and asked, “Do you have any idea how badly you’re hurt? I have to carry you out of here through the forest. The bag will just slow me down. You need a hospital, and fast.”

  She closed her eyes and struggled to form words, finally mumbling, “Floater.” She opened her eyes and indicated the storage compartments again.

  He went back to them and started opening them one at a time. “What am I looking for?”

  “Round. Heavy.”

  He found a solid round sphere and hefted it out. He looked to her for instructions, but her eyes were closed. Hmm. Could he figure it out by himself? There were no switches. It was just a smooth, round sphere. He pressed it without result, but when he twisted, the thing proceeded to come apart in his hands. Before long, a thin, rectangular surface about six feet long hovered beside him at waist level. The corner he still grasped in his hand had six buttons, each of them a different color.

  He pressed the button nearest his hand and the floater settled gently to the floor. Pushing and holding the next button brought it back up. When he released the button, the floater remained stationary.

  Wow!

  He guided it to her side and lowered it to the deck. She must have sensed his presence. Without even opening her eyes, she whispered, “No hospital. No government.”

  “I understand your concern about the government, but without a hospital you’ll die.”

  She tried to raise herself up, closing her eyes and shaking with tremendous effort, but she barely moved. Gasping, she sank back to the floor and cried out. But she was not through yet. She opened panicked eyes and pleaded, “Your hospital will kill me.”

  What could he say to that? Since her body was alien, she might be right. “Okay, okay, but I’m not making any promises. We’ll have to see how you do.”

  She held out her wrist and ordered him to stick the disk on her wrist. She then issued her final instructions, whispering with the last of her strength. “I will sleep. When time to wake, remove.” She added with emphasis, “Bring gray bag.” Moments later, her body relaxed. He assumed she was sleeping, though since she was an alien, he had no way of knowing anything about her with certainty.

  He transferred her onto the floater, then he stood up and took the gray bag to the back of the craft. He ransacked every compartment, not really knowing what he was looking for, but he knew she would need medicine and food. If it looked like it fit into those two categories, he threw it into the bag. He was really looking for a radio as well, something she could use to call her people for help, but nothing he saw resembled a radio. When the bag was full, he tied it off and bent her legs to make room for it on the floater. With a last look around and conscious of the seconds ticking away, he held the ‘up’ button until the floater rose to waist level.

  Fifteen minutes later he was back at his plane. He maneuvered her as carefully as he could into the back seat, but the floater was too long for him to close the door. He scratched his chin, knowing that he had to turn the thing off but afraid it might try to squeeze her into its ball when it folded itself back up. He wished he had tried the other buttons before putting her on top of it. He felt the seconds ticking away and knew the Harbok would be getting closer with each tick. He had to get out of here.

  The insides of small planes are cramped. He became a contortionist as he worked to get her off the floater, but he finally got her situated on her side in a fetal-like position in the back seat. He made no attempt to strap her in. Expecting any minute to see a UFO overhead, he touched buttons on the floater until it turned back into a ball and threw it into the baggage compartment. He pushed the plane away from the shore, climbed up into the pilot’s seat, started the engine, and took off without delay.

  He had decided on a plan while struggling through the forest with the floater. No hospital and no authorities certainly precluded returning home to Minneapolis where he would have to clear customs at the Canadian border. It also ruled out any other airports where questions would be raised. His only choice, and it wasn’t really a choice at all, was to continue his earlier northward journey and join his sister and her husband at the campsite. The three of them might find a more creative solution.

  Feeling ridiculous, but knowing that a Harbok UFO could materialize any minute, he remained at tree-top level and followed a circuitous route to the lake, a route that doubled the flying distance but left no straight line for anyone to follow. He let his mind work on issues while he flew. He had an alien in the back seat of his plane. Because of her injuries, he had no choice but to help her, but that wasn’t the whole story. He wanted to help her. He wanted to get to know her and everything her presence represented. How often did one get to meet an alien?

  She needed a hospital, but he appreciated her concerns in that regard. Any doctor treating her would have to be told she was an alien, but the moment her presence became known and official, she would probably never see the light of day again.

  And the Harbok.
Who were they? Were they bad guys or good guys? They had clearly gone to great lengths to avoid harming him. In return, he had probably played a part in their demise. Had their concern for him doomed them?

  Was he now their enemy?

  He certainly would be their enemy if they caught him helping this injured woman. Would they give him a chance to explain, or would they just kill him? Then he sucked in a breath. What if they interpreted his actions as representing everyone on Earth? Would they take their anger out on the whole world?

  These were serious issues, and he had to confront them. On the other hand, surely someone would come for her. Then he brightened. They’d have a ship, a working ship. Could he finagle a ride, maybe?

  * * * * *

  Two hours after taking off, he buzzed the camp and landed. He cut the engine as he coasted up to the beach and parked next to Jim’s plane. Nancy greeted him with applause when he climbed down from the floats.

  “You’re late!” Jim shouted.

  “We were getting worried, Big Brother,” Nancy added with a hug. “I can fix you a late lunch.”

  His stomach rumbled, but he had bigger issues to attend to first. “Ah . . . not yet. I have an injured woman in the back of my plane.”

  Their grins disappeared.

  “Come on, I’ll explain later,” he said, climbing back up into the plane. Nancy’s face paled when he removed the blanket from the huddled form. She turned eyes that had grown enormous to him and said, “She needs a hospital. What happened?”

  “It’s a long story. For the time being, you both have to trust me when I say she’s not going to a hospital. Not yet anyway. Nancy, go fix up a sleeping bag in the tent while I get her out, okay?”

  Greg worked his way back down to a float, and Jim joined him there. “You got her in there by yourself?” he asked frowning.

  “I did, and I’m going to get her out the same way. Don’t touch her. You might catch something.”

  Jim just stared at him.

  Greg ran a hand through his hair. “Uh, don’t freak out on me. I’m already freaked out enough for both of us. It’s going to get harder for you.” He opened the baggage compartment and pulled the floater out, then activated it, forcing Jim to step backward along the top of the float toward the front of the plane. Jim reached up and rested a hand on the propeller as Greg pushed the up button.

  “Why do I get the feeling you haven’t just been writing a thesis in your spare time?” Jim asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Look,” Jim said, holding out a hand. “I only have your word that you run the company during the day and study at night. Some special operations guys never retire. And now this . . .?” He tilted his head to the side and asked, “Who do you really work for? The CIA? Or is it someone we peons have never even heard of?”

  Greg stared at his brother-in-law and friend. There was no way to sugar coat the truth, so he said, “It’s an alien artifact. So is she.”

  “Sure,” Jim replied, clearly not believing him. “I’ll take one end of the blanket. You take the other, and we’ll lift her onto the stretcher.”

  The process was a lot easier with two of them. Nancy came out of the tent just as the floater came out of the plane. She stared in silence as Greg lowered it to waist height and guided it toward the tent. Their eyes met as he passed her, and he sensed her questions, but he just shook his head. She got the message and stood aside while Greg and Jim lifted the woman to an open sleeping bag on a cot. Greg collapsed the floater and stood there looking down at the woman, wishing there was more he could do for her.

  Jim and Nancy were staring at him when he turned around, their eyes alternating between him, the collapsed floater, and the woman.

  “She needs a hospital, Greg, not a sleeping bag,” Nancy said.

  “I know, but we need to talk first. A hospital might kill her.”

  Nancy stared hard at him for a long moment, then she inserted herself between him and the cot and bent down to cover the woman with a sheet. “We have a good first aid kit in our plane,” she offered. “Do you want me to get it?”

  “No, not yet. I treated her burns with medicine she provided. You can see how it formed into a plastic bandage. Let’s go outside and talk.”

  “I’m pretty sure we have a thermometer. At least let me take her temperature,” she pleaded.

  “Well . . . uh . . . I’m not sure what her temperature should be,” he faltered. Nancy was preparing a sharp retort when he took her shoulders and turned her toward the door. “I need some coffee. Come on.”

  They faced him in hostile silence as he made the coffee. “I’m not in the CIA,” he said, looking to Jim.

  “If you’re in some sort of trouble . . .?”

  “No, no, nothing like that!”

  “Then where did you find her? What happened to her?”

  “I found her in her crashed spaceship after she shot down a UFO.”

  Nancy broke a long silence. “After seeing that stretcher, I’m almost ready to believe you.”

  “It gets worse. Let me tell you about my morning.”

  When he finished his story, they sat around the fire in silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Nancy eventually got up and announced that she was going to check on their patient.

  When she returned, she said, “Her pulse is strong, and her breathing is regular. That’s about all I can tell. I’ve taken off what’s left of her clothes and cleaned her up as best I can. She has a bracelet on her ankle. I left it there. She needs a hospital.”

  “You touched her?” Greg asked in horror. “She’s an alien!”

  “Alien, shmalien. She’s as human as we are. Besides, she needs our help if she’s going to stay alive. By the way, she’s pretty, or hadn’t you noticed?”

  “Ah, yeah, I guess I noticed, but . . . she’s an alien, Nancy. A real alien. You should have seen her ship. I’d give anything to fly one.”

  “What about a hospital?” Nancy demanded, not caring the slightest about spaceships.

  “Not yet. I promised her I wouldn’t, and I’m not sure a hospital would be in her best interests anyway.”

  Jim jumped on the statement. “She speaks our language?”

  Greg nodded. “She does. Considering the stress she was under, she must speak it fairly well.”

  Jim shook his head. “If she speaks our language, this isn’t just a chance encounter. She’s been studying us.” He eyed Greg hard. “This is way above our pay grade. We need to alert Washington.”

  “You know what will happen to her if we turn her over to the government.”

  Jim’s mouth hung open for a moment, then slammed shut. “You’re joking, right?” When Greg shook his head, Jim abruptly stood up with his hands in his back pockets. “You mean it, not her. Right?”

  Greg stood up and faced him. “Can you possibly believe that? And do you want another cover-up like Roswell?”

  Jim rolled his shoulders, momentarily uncomfortable, before replying, “We don’t know if anything happened there.”

  “Maybe not, but we’re suddenly staring at a lot of evidence pointing to the fact that something might have. Come on, Jim,” he said, holding out a hand and imploring, “we can’t blow this First Contact. Let’s sleep on it for a day or two while she heals. If she gets worse, I’ll be the first one to head for help.”

  Jim shook his head, and Nancy stood up and stepped between the two men. “Stop it! Just stop it! You’ve been friends for too long to be acting like this. As far as I’m concerned, we have a sick woman in there who needs our help. She doesn’t need Washington’s help. Not yet.”

  Greg made a peace offering to Jim. “Tell you what. I’ll give you the location of her crashed ship if you’ll give me a couple of days to think about this.”

  Chapter Four

  That evening, Greg went into the tent and knelt beside the woman. For the first time, he really studied her. Nancy had let her hair down, and long, blondish-brown hair outlined a face with a wide mouth and chise
led features, features that were etched in pain, even in sleep. She had been pretty before the burns, but she would be disfigured now for the rest of her life. Thankfully, both of her arms and hands had avoided injury. He reached out and caressed her cheek, sorry for what had been done to her and sorry that he was going to cause more pain. He regretted having to wake her, but they had to get water into her. He peeled the disk from her wrist, then he sat down and waited.

  It took nearly two hours before she stirred. By then, Jim and Nancy had joined him. Their first indication that she was awake was a deep moan. Nancy was beside her in an instant. She took the woman’s hand and waited patiently. Eventually, the woman focused her eyes. She stared into Nancy’s eyes, then her eyes moved around the tent, taking in Jim and Greg. She locked gazes with Greg and blinked a few times, then she ran a tongue across dry lips.

  Nancy wet a towel and pressed water into her mouth, then more. When she was done, the woman seemed stronger. She relaxed into the pillow with her eyes closed and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Nancy beamed. “You’re welcome! Can you tell us your name?”

  “Arlynn,” she murmured.

  “Well! Pleased to meet you, Arlynn,” Nancy said with a smile. “My name is Nancy Petersen, this is my husband Jim, and your rescuer over there is my brother, Greg Hamilton.”

  Arlynn opened her eyes to look at each of them again. Her eyes settled once more on Greg. She struggled to rise, failed completely, and collapsed back onto the pillow. In a whisper, she asked, “The bag?”

  “It’s here.”

  “Where are we?”

  “We’re at a remote fishing camp about two hundred miles from where you went down.”

  “Harbok?”

  “No. At least I haven’t seen any other UFO’s.”