Touched by an Alien

by Koch, Gini

  “I know that. I need to ask Dad something.”

  Mom looked around. “Sol! Over here.”

  Dad trotted over. “What’s going on? Have you figured out who the mole is?” The way he asked, it was clear my parents had discussed this and were both confident the operation had been infiltrated.

  “No, Dad, I need to ask you something.”

  “Sure, kitten. Shoot.”

  “Christopher, I need to ask you things too.” I could see it, forming in my mind. It wasn’t pretty, but then again, in one sense it was.

  “Waiting with bated breath.” He could still snark under pressure. Nice to know.

  “Dad, would you say it was common or unusual for a cryptologist not to triple-check their work before declaring it complete?”

  He thought about it. “Rare, at least here. You have to prove you’re right to too many different organizations not to do a variety of tests.”

  “But the A-Cs only have one organization to report to.” I looked at Christopher. He was pale. “Was Beverly on the original translation project?” He nodded. “Is she considered your generation or your father’s?”

  “My father’s.” He swallowed. “And, before you ask, yes—she’s one of the few who knows the truth about Yates.”

  “She’s going to kill Jeff and probably James, maybe the others. We have to go, now. Mom, Dad, get rid of the C.I.A. and then figure out how to follow us.”

  Christopher grabbed my hand and we ran at hyperspeed to a gate. But the operators were fiddling with it. “What’s wrong?” Christopher barked.

  “We’re blocked from the Science Center. Some kind of interference. It’s affected all the gates.”

  “Did the teams with Martini and Reader make it back to the Science Center?” I asked.

  “Yes, they did.”

  Christopher cursed. “We’re too far for me to run us there.”

  I thought about it. “I know you can’t actually fly a plane, but do you know how?”

  “Yes, we all learned, just in case. I could tell someone how to fly, but I can’t do it myself.”

  “Oh, good.”

  He stared at me. “You’re not suggesting what I think you are, are you?”

  “We don’t, they die.”

  “You ever flown something before?”

  I answered honestly. “I hold the highest score at A.S.U. for Star Wars: Starfighter.”

  “I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m going to regret this.”

  CHAPTER 48

  WE ARGUED ABOUT ASKING for a human pilot as we ran to the jets. Since we were at Area 51, we actually had a lot of choices in terms of aircraft. Of course, since my pointing out that we couldn’t trust anyone right now won the trained-human-pilot argument rather effectively, we needed an aircraft that Christopher technically knew how to fly, was fueled up, and could hold both of us.

  We made do with one that he was familiar with, was fueled up, and could hold me on Christopher’s lap. I tried not to consider Martini’s reaction to this—I had to figure saving his life would outweigh unintentional snuggling with his cousin.

  Christopher pulled some rank, and we climbed in. I could see why pilots weren’t tall—there wasn’t a lot of room in there.

  “Do we have to have your purse in here with us?”

  “It’s more reliable than anything else.” A thought occurred, and I dug out the walkie. “Lorraine, Claudia? You there?”

  Silence. Nothing from Reader, either. I dropped the walkie back into my purse.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” Christopher said briskly.

  We put on a set of headphones each, he pointed out the buttons to hit to close the lid, start the engine, and so on. I did my best to focus on the instructions and not the thought that we could go splat at any second, as soon as I started trying to fly. The sound through the headphones was pretty good, but not as good as the intercom system in the cars had been.

  “Okay, you’re going to pull back on the stick. Remember, it works sort of opposite from what you’d expect.”

  “I’ve seen the movies.”

  “Well, don’t I feel all confident now?”

  “It’s all down to the reflexes and your ability to teach.”

  “I wish we’d said good-bye to our parents.”

  “We’ll be fine, Mr. Optimism.”

  “I want to be on record that this brings my tally for saving Jeff’s butt even with his saving mine.”

  “I’ll be sure to note it in my report.”

  Christopher wrapped an arm around my waist. I decided not to notice. “You ready?” He was trying to sound calm and confident. Key word was “trying.”

  Sort of. “Yes.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  It was different. I’d seen scenes in the movies where someone who doesn’t know how to fly, or hasn’t flown in years, takes a jet and manages to get off the ground. I discovered these movies were documentaries.

  We lifted up and then bobbed. “Back! Pull it back!”

  “It’s hard.”

  “The ground is harder!”

  “Fine!” I pulled in the directions he shouted and grabbed or pushed the things he pointed frantically to, the ones he wasn’t doing himself. Abbott and Costello had nothing on the two of us. As the jet started to bounce and spin around while somehow moving upward, I saw servicemen running away from us. I found that a rude comment on my skills.

  We managed to get up above the other planes, then above the buildings. Once we were higher, it got easier, and Christopher’s directions got calmer. “You ready?” he asked once we were up and facing the right direction. It had taken only a few turns to get there, and I was feeling pretty good.

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  I pushed the stick how he told me, and suddenly we were flying, really flying. I was shoved back against him in a way I knew Martini wouldn’t appreciate. However, there was no way Christopher was enjoying it—his face was being squished.

  This made it hard for him to give directions or me to hear them. On the other hand, time was of the essence. He’d made it clear that the nose of the jet shouldn’t dip below some red line on the instrument panel, and I was doing very well. At least, I’d managed to avoid the buildings, other jets, and birds in the air. Starfighter was good training for this part.

  “Just like a video game,” I shouted to Christopher.

  “Mmgh!” He managed to move his head. “I don’t think video games can kill you.”

  “You don’t go to movies much, do you?”

  “Never. By the way, landing’s the hard part.”

  Oh, good. “No chance you can do that, right?”

  “Sure, if we want to die for certain, just give me the stick.”

  “Why so? I mean, really why?”

  “It takes concentration or exhaustion for us to function at human levels. If we’re tense, our reflexes take over, and we overstress the machinery. Believe me, they did a lot of tests when we first arrived here. We’re trained from birth to slow down while walking, eating, talking, all those normal things. But flying isn’t normal, it’s a learned skill, and we haven’t successfully learned to not overreact in terms of the machinery’s ability to handle it.”

  “I’d guess you’re too stressed to land the jet, right?”

  “I’m too stressed to operate an espresso machine, let alone a jet. And I’m not tired enough. We have to be at near collapse, like Jeff was, to have a shot.”

  “Okay, no worries. Just checking.” Sure, I was lying, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “We’re almost there.” He pointed to a very low-key complex in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t look military, scientific, or even interesting. Without a doubt, this was the Science Center. “Okay, the nose needs to point down, so we have to go under the red line.”

  “You told me to never go under the red line.”

  “While we want to go up or fly, yes. Now we want to go down and land, so we go under the
red line.”

  “You said under the red line was bad.”

  “Kitty!”

  “Fine, fine.” I eased off on the stick and, amazingly, we went under the red line, at least as far as the instrument panel was concerned.

  “Pull up! Pull UP!”

  I did. It was impossible not to with him screaming in my ears. “What’s wrong now?”

  “Under the red line means just a bit under, not nose-diving!”

  The radio crackled. “Unidentified aircraft, you are not cleared to land.”

  “Who was that?”

  “No one I recognize.” Christopher pointed. “There’s open desert. Let’s land and then I’ll run us back.”

  “You don’t think I can land at the Center?”

  “I think it’s been taken over by hostiles.”

  “Oh, um, good point.” On the plus side, there wasn’t a lot of concrete in the area Christopher was directing us to. On the downside, if we crashed, it seemed unlikely anyone was going to come to rescue us. Ergo, I had to be sure we didn’t crash.

  A part of me wanted to do this with my eyes closed, but most of me wanted to survive, so I listened to his instructions and did my best to do exactly what he said. “Wheels down.” I flipped the switch and we felt the machinery move. “Good. Now, the next part’s the hardest, but people with less skill than you do it every day.”

  “You’re not great with the idea of building confidence, are you?”

  “I think you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met,” he said quietly. “And if Jeff ever hurts you, I’ll kill him.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. “I think you’re totally hot and incredibly appealing even when you’re being snarky, but I also think I’m falling in love with your cousin, and if I kiss you, he’ll never speak to me again” probably wasn’t destined to be the greatest line in the history of romantic entanglements.

  He squeezed my waist. “It’s okay. Let’s get this jet safely on the ground and then go save everyone.”

  “Sounds like a workable plan.” I took a deep breath. “Ready.”

  “We need to bank and come around, we’ve overshot.” No problem, Starfighter training handled it. “Now, we’re back to easing down. Good, Kitty, that’s good. Even up a little . . . right . . . now down again . . . good.”

  It went on like this until we were close to the ground. “This is the hard part.” I refrained from comment. “As we get down, you have to pull back up, just a bit, so only the tires hit the ground.”

  “Christopher? If we die, I just want to say that I really like you.”

  “Thanks, Kitty, I really like you, too.” We sounded like junior high kids, but I just didn’t want to die without saying something nice to the person who’d be dying with me. His arm tightened around me. “Okay, almost there.”

  The ground came up fast, and I did what he’d told me, started pulling up just a bit. The tires touched, and we bounced—high. The stick got hard to control, and we hit the ground again. I fought the stick, but it was winning. “Now what?”

  He put his free hand over mine. “Now we find out if anyone up there likes us.”

  “Oh, great.”

  Christopher was trying to move the stick, and I wasn’t sure I should let him. “That’s good, fight it,” he said, through clenched teeth. “You’re slowing me down.”

  He pulled us up, and we were airborne again, going a bit too fast. I pushed against him harder, and we slowed down, banked, and then dived again. “I thought you said nose dives were bad!”

  “You’re not fighting hard enough.”

  I increased pressure again, and we pulled out of the nose dive a bit. Something was flashing on one of the monitors. “Um, Christopher? What’s that screen?” I pointed at it with my nose.

  “Oh, hell.” He pulled the stick hard, and we went up, spinning. “Fight it, Kitty, those are missiles heading for us.”

  CHAPTER 49

  AS IF THINGS DIDN’T SUCK QUITE ENOUGH. I wasn’t sure what we were going to do, but avoiding the missiles sounded like the best idea. Christopher was yanking on the stick, and I realized he hadn’t been kidding—he was causing the jet to do things I was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to.

  It required a lot of strength, but I managed to counter him. I shifted a bit so he could see the monitor. He moved the stick hard, and we banked to the right. As I countered, a missile whizzed past us.

  “This is a lot more fun to watch than to experience.”

  “How many unfriendlies do we have?” Christopher’s tone was brisk. He had his Commander hat on. I decided not to argue.

  “If the flashing red dots are any indication, we have four.”

  “Great.”

  We kept on managing to dodge, but we weren’t lucking out like they did in the movies. We also hadn’t put on parachutes. “Where’s our miraculous backup coming from?”

  Christopher managed to laugh. It was a bitter laugh, sure, but still, a laugh. “I don’t think we have backup, Kitty, unless you count the missiles.”

  No sooner had he said this than the missile on our tail exploded. I looked back at the screen. “There are three green dots now.” I looked around—Americans actually marked their radio buttons. I hit it, hoping it worked like the intercom had. “Hello?”

  “Commander White, HQ requests you advise us the next time you and Miss Katt decide to take flight.” That voice sounded familiar.

  “Hey, were you just fighting the fuglies with us?”

  “Yes. Is the Commander with you?”

  “Yes,” Christopher called. “Look, this is hard enough. Are you able to take out the rest of those missiles?”

  The air shattered with explosions. We lost a bit of control, if you define a bit as a terrifying nose dive we just managed to pull out of. I looked at the monitor—no more flashing red dots. “We’ll take that as a yes. Consider us droolingly grateful.”

  “Can either one of you actually fly?”

  “Ummm . . . define fly.”

  I heard cursing over the radios. “How do you expect to land?”

  “We’re hoping for fairy dust. Got any on you?”

  One of the voices chuckled. “Little lady, relax. It’s like lickin’ butter off a knife.”

  Christopher groaned. “She doesn’t need the encouragement.”

  The relaxed voice spoke again. “I’m Jerry. What’s your name, honey?”

  I decided to not get offended. “Kitty.”

  “Miss Kitty, huh?” Who was this guy, Martini’s human counterpart? “Where you from, Miss Kitty?”

  “Pueblo Caliente. And, please, I’ve heard them all. What I haven’t heard is someone telling me how to land without dying.”

  “That’s okay,” Jerry said. “That’s why I’m talking to you.”

  “Where are you from, Jerry?”

  “San Diego, at least presently.”

  “Navy?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” This meant he was from the Top Gun school. I tried to envision Maverick or Iceman, but I kept on coming up with Goose. The one who died.

  “Jerry? Do you play volleyball shirtless?”

  “Only with ladies.”

  “Works for me. What the hell do I do? We’ve tried landing a couple of times, and we’re really good at bouncing.”

  Jerry chuckled again. He sounded very soothing. “No worries, little lady. I’ve taught a lot of boys and some girls how to fly. None of ’em crashed their first landings.”

  Oh, Jerry was an instructor. Suddenly this didn’t seem so terrifying. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Jerry talked to me about the same way Christopher had, gave the same or similar instructions, in the same order. But I wasn’t worried. He did this all the time. Sure, his pilots came trained, but he’d probably trained a lot of beginners before he moved to Top Gun. I was in good hands.

  “Now, I’m coming down right next to you, right by your side,” Jerry said in his soothing drawl. “Sort of like we’re holding hands.”

/>   “Holding wings?”

  “Right.”

  “Don’t touch his wing!” Christopher sounded both freaked and jealous.

  “It was metaphorical.”

  “It was a come on.”

  Jerry chuckled again. “Commander, maybe you should try to relax. Miss Kitty’s doing just fine.” I started to like Jerry a lot. “Now, you know what we’re going to do, right, honey?”

  “Yes, I start pulling back a bit, and when the wheels hit, I pull back just enough so the nose stays up and the wheels stay down.”

  “You’re a natural. And I’ll be right next to you. You look over if you need to see if you’re right. Now, here we go.”

  We were moving slowly, per Jerry’s instructions. I checked a couple of times, but we were even with him. All the way down. The ground came up faster than I wanted, though. “That’s okay,” Jerry said, as I gasped. “You’re all right. Pull back now, just a bit . . . a bit more . . . get ready, you’ll hit the earth momentarily.” We did and started to bounce. “No problem, just relax while you pull a bit back.”

  The rear wheels were down and seemed to be staying that way. “Just a tiny bit forward, like you’re trying to put a doll onto the top of a house of cards.”

  Christopher was muttering behind me, but I ignored him and did what Jerry said. The front wheel was down. “Now brakes, that’s right, a little more but not too much, you’re not making a pit stop at NASCAR.”

  The jet slowed gradually and came to a halt. Christopher pointed out which buttons to hit and switches to flip to turn everything off. We opened the hatch and climbed out.

  One of the pilots was there to help me down. He looked pretty buff under his uniform, had a blond crew cut, seemed about twenty-two, and had captain’s bars on his uniform. “Thanks.” I looked around as Christopher climbed out. “Where’s Jerry?”

  The captain grinned. “Jerry Tucker. Pleased to meet you, Miss Kitty.”

  My jaw dropped. “How the hell are you an instructor at Top Gun?”

  Jerry winked. “My daddy always says that the best thing you can do when someone’s terrified is make ’em think you’ve taught plenty of others how to do whatever it is they have to do.”

  “So, how many people have you talked out of the air?” Christopher asked.