The Third Craft

by James Harris

  He did allow himself some indulgences. He discovered, by chance, the joy of Nutella. Oh my, what a decadent treat! It was hazelnuts blended with milk fat and sugar. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have been able to tolerate it, but he quite enjoyed the taste. Grayer made a batch of protein mix every morning and took it to work. Nutella and peanut butter sandwiches (another happy discovery) also became part of his regular diet.

  Human relations was another aspect that required finesse. Both Kor and Grayer had potentially annoying habits that neither was aware of until they became apparent through the eyes of the other. These habits were slowly curbed using conditioned training. Sharing a brain is not unlike running the three-legged race: You need a rhythm, a gait, and a shared objective in order to move forward. In order to move quickly, you needed to learn quickly.

  Technical information bulletins, science journals, and periodicals became obsolete overnight. Kor’s mind had retained much information from the learning pods. Grayer, who used to enjoy reading science periodicals, gave up in disgust. Because of Kor’s embedded knowledge, he already knew everything in the journals and much, much more.

  To those who knew him well, Grayer seemed a different person after the lab “accident,” and everyone who cared noticed that something had radically changed – but it wasn’t a negative change, necessarily. In fact, most people found Grayer more charming and inquisitive than ever, almost child-like in his curious observations of the world around him.

  His eyebrows regrew, and he looked and acted normal. His minor behavioral changes weren’t thought of as suspicious, and any unusual conduct was soon forgotten as people moved on with their daily lives. It wasn’t long before the new Grayer had blended into normal American society. For Kor, this was a textbook-perfect transition.

  CHAPTER39

  After his brief medical leave, Grayer resumed his duties with the Air Intelligence Agency at Los Alamos.

  The year was 1962, and Grayer had just turned twenty-eight. John F. Kennedy, a man who carried his vast power and wealth with grace and humility, was the president of the United States. He would be murdered the next year – a testament to the savagery of the species. The iron curtain was a grim reality, with the Democratic West and Communist East engaged in the bitter Cold War. Space research was coming of age. The president believed that the ultimate destiny of mankind rested in outer space. He predicted that man would destroy his home planet, sooner or later, and have to move on. Sadly enough, he would one day be proven right.

  The Pentagon, in Washington, D.C., was the hub of American military activity. It was a massive building considered by many to be the embodiment of bureaucracy itself. It got larger and larger to service the increasing needs of the military bureaucracy. Eisenhower coined the term military industrial complex as a warning, but it was already too late – no one was listening to the voice of reason anymore and the bureaucracy continued to expand.

  Meanwhile, the secret spaceship project at Los Alamos was now receiving enthusiastic backing from the White House. When the remains of the spacecraft had been discovered in 1949, there was neither the technical expertise nor the funding to investigate the wreck properly. It wasn’t until recently that anyone had been able to loosen the White House purse strings to fund any real research.

  Bohr was part of the so-called Smart Team at Los Alamos; he was the lead scientist responsible for scientific research. Without notice, the National Security Agency had sent for him in 1958. A plane whisked him from Chicago to Los Alamos under a veil of secrecy. En route to New Mexico he was told that he was needed on an unusual classified project requiring his exact talents. There were apologies all around for removing him from Chicago, but the circumstances were too important to trust to anyone else, they said. This project would take months, maybe years.

  While Bohr was upset about being separated from his wife, Rose, and his friends, it was a comfort to be back in his boyhood home. He visited some old friends and neighborhoods, and he petitioned the DoD to transfer his wife to New Mexico as soon as possible.

  His homecoming was not classified, but the project certainly was. The government was convinced that it had found the wreck of an alien spacecraft. The newly formed NSA needed scientists with appropriate intelligence clearance and knowledge of nuclear physics to help in the investigation.

  Almost immediately after his final clearance, David Bohr witnessed first-hand the remains of the craft. It had struck a solid canyon wall in the desert and burst into thousands of pieces. There was no evidence of alien survivors, only superstitious rumors. The resident scientists were not entirely convinced that the craft was alien. They felt it was likely to be an unmanned test aircraft of unknown origin.

  While it is true that the initial crash site was not too far from Roswell, New Mexico, the urban legends were mostly wrong. There were no live or dead aliens recovered from the wreck. No little green men, no abductions for experimentation, and no secret military cover-up beyond that of protecting the identity of the initial craft. The famous Area 51 and Area 19 were nothing more than high-security testing facilities for Stealth-type aircraft.

  The remains of the craft had been transported to a secure USAF base at Los Alamos. The move made sense because of the new and advanced scientific equipment located there. Also, the facility had the protection of high security. There was also tight security in areas adjacent to Los Alamos because of the nuclear development work underway. Given the arms race, they felt they needed any advantage they could get.

  The wreckage itself was peculiar. There was no fire or explosion after impact. The scientists reassembled the fragments as best they could without a schematic or drawing. There was no evidence of electronics, at least not based on our concept of electricity. There were various arrays of green, plastic-like, gelatinous, card-sized objects, but their use could not be fathomed. Chairs, and part of a control panel, were recovered. The panel itself had shattered on impact. Several multicolored globs of what appeared to be lights were recovered inside the panel remains.

  It was Bohr’s extensive experience in the theoretical field of quantum mechanics that fueled the discussions and postulations. He was the right person to extrapolate from existing theory and integrate it with the scientific evidence from the wreck.

  Good science takes time. Bohr and his team had worked for several years to try to uncover any more secrets the craft might offer up. There were important matters of national security to consider. There was the military’s insistence that the wreck be examined for clues on how to develop superior military weapons. This, the military hoped, would tip the balance of the weapons race in favor of the Americans.

  Grayer was part of the Smart Team. He had begun his career right out of university as a Pentagon brat. His father, an influential senator from Michigan, had had a hand in getting assignments for his son. Although he loved his father dearly, Grayer was irked by his constant meddling in his career. Grayer was known to be on the fast track. He had moved on to Air Force Intelligence as a trainee and, within months, was transferred to Los Alamos as a special agent assigned to keep tabs on the UFO project for the military brass in Washington. Grayer’s reports were funneled through the NSA to the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

  The core team at Los Alamos was a mixed bag of five people. As Air Force Intelligence (AIA), Grayer was the intelligence arm, directly linked to the Pentagon, with contacts in Britain and Canada. David Bohr was head of research. He had imported his own select crew of physicists from Chicago. The U.S. military, using the newly developed National Security Agency (NSA) had assigned Major Connelly to head up that team. Peter Wright was on loan from Britain’s MI5. Finally, there was Sergeant Preston, an intelligence officer with the Canadian RCMP. This eclectic crew met every four months.

  Within weeks of the transition incident, Bohr and Grayer arranged a classified meeting with the Joint Chiefs for a formal briefing.

  There was no real proof of the existence of an extraterrestrial, just Bohr’s word for it that Grayer had m
ysteriously changed into some kind of hybrid human. Bohr prepared a scientific explanation of the event. With Grayer’s help, he explained the engineering principles behind the Transition Chamber, the transfer fluid, the bio-electromagnetic data transfer, and the advantages of crypt-orbs for long interstellar flights. Grayer was a big help in filling in some of the theoretical blanks with his first-hand knowledge. But the whole meeting still boiled down to proving the existence of an ET residing in the mind of a human.

  The Pentagon’s Map Room III – on the third floor of the Pentagon, B Section – was chosen as the meeting room for Grayer, Bohr, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. It was a windowless gloomy room with dim pot lights that hid the boundaries of the walls so that one could never tell exactly how large or small the room really was.

  As Grayer sat down at the twenty-foot teak boardroom table, he came face to face with The Man. The Joint Chiefs were as stodgy as they come. No smiles. All business. These were ex-brush-cut military men for whom the world was two-dimensional: the Soviets were the bad guys, and the Americans were the good guys. Gene Autry, Audie Murphy, and Roy Rogers were the typical American icons. Their America was white, Christian, brave, loyal, and honest, and served as the conscience for all mankind. They followed de rigueur Washington protocol of martinis at lunch, and scotch and soda before dinner.

  There was no alcohol at this meeting. There was plenty of cigarette smoke and coffee, however, and ice water that Grayer couldn’t help but notice reeked of chlorine. He fought back his gag reflex as he took in all the smells. It took exceptional mettle to withstand the musky, sickly-sweet aftershave fumes emanating from the seven perspiring chiefs seated around the table. He was getting better at containing his repulsion. The stench of males in enclosed spaces seemed especially abhorrent to him, probably because their skin oozed the oils of their flesh-eating diet. Most men also smoked a lot and drank copious amounts of alcohol. On top of all that, the pheromone they produced was strong, and Grayer had an inherent disgust for that particular human mating smell. To everyone else in the room, the odors were barely noticeable.

  The chiefs themselves were pleasant enough to Grayer, certainly on the surface. Several already knew him and his father, the senator. They had all approved Grayer’s appointment to his role at AIA. But that was then, and this was now. Today, each man eyed him up and down, trying to imagine that this human – whom some had known since he was a teenager – was somehow no longer the same person. Grayer seemed different. On an animal level they could sense unfamiliarity about him. There seemed to be an extra presence in the room, an intelligence that hovered over them like a ghost.

  They could tell that this was a man who was used to being in charge and in control. Grayer’s demeanor was subtly condescending. He seemed to be struggling to be polite to people who were more his subjects than his equals.

  He was silent and totally relaxed as Bohr gave the presentation outlining the situation. The dissertation was a tedious affair. In a nutshell, Bohr revealed that the Los Alamos project had been a success. They had discovered an alien from a unique storage device. This alien had no body, just a digital mind. He had been set free when Bohr had activated the chamber with Grayer inside. He explained that there were two humans, the one they knew as Grayer, and another called Kor, who was from a civilization a million years more advanced than our own, and that they had been fused together as one and was seated in front of them.

  Grayer took over and related the history of his planet and the dire need of his people to escape to another world. He gave the men an idea of what life was like where he came from, how they lived, their underground cities, and the destruction on the planet surface. He explained the theory behind galactic flight using ion thrusters and anti-matter. Finally he explained the practicality of storing human essence in the form of data and retrieving it at the journey’s end. He told them transitioning to Grayer was neither harmful nor dangerous for Grayer. When his presentation was done, there was an awkward silence. Grayer smiled, looking from face to face, waiting for questions. The Joint Chiefs stared back skeptically, one or two shaking their heads. Brigadier General Albright broke the silence.

  “Frank, I have known you since your teenage days at military college.”

  Grayer nodded and smiled. “Yes, sir, you have.”

  “Now, son … you mean to tell me you are part alien?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Well, I’ll be honest, Frank, I’m having a hard time swallowing this crap.”

  “No doubt you are, sir.”

  The general turned and set his sights on Bohr.

  “Bohr, you have no real proof to substantiate these claims of yours. There were no other witnesses. It’s just your word and Grayer’s word. And there’s nothing on video or audio. You’re telling me that no security cameras caught this … let me check my notes here … this ‘transition’ from an orb into a human body?”

  “No, general. The part of the lab where we had assembled the apparatus was out of the range of the security cameras. They were designed for intruders and were pointed at the doors, not inward at the lab itself.”

  “I see. How unfortunate. And Frank, or whatever you think your name is now, do you have any proof?”

  Grayer had expected this challenge and was prepared. “It’s still Frank, sir, and yes, I have proof. Bear with me. I’m not familiar with this human form and it has taken me a few weeks to recover even the most elementary skills. But still, I’d like to take a shot at a demonstration.”

  The room responded with uniform skepticism, but their curiosity was piqued. Grayer calmly fixed his gaze on the general and the rest of the table. All that could be heard was the sound of feet shuffling awkwardly under the table. The general leaned back in his chair nonchalantly and lit a cigarette. Then they began to hear it – or were they imagining it? – a soft song far in the distance. Grayer never opened his mouth, and never stopped smiling. The men at the table looked at one another and then back at Grayer. They began to feel relaxed and joyful and at peace. The walls seemed to draw further and further away from the table until they dissolved completely, revealing an image of the tranquil out of doors. The men recalled treasured summer days from their childhoods: hot, lazy days down by a stream, watching pure, clear water gurgle by. The group sat with their eyes glazed over, staring forward.

  The water moved swiftly, faster and faster past their faces as they bent over to be closer to the flowing stream. A hand, their hand, dipped into the cool wet water, and the water eddied about their fingers, swirling faster and faster. The water smelled fresh. It was as though they were children again. The bright clear sunlight reflected off the surface, flickering in a multiple prism. The colors were vibrant and there was an otherworldly melody that seemed to emulate the rhythm of the stream. It was the perfect time and spot for lying down and taking an afternoon nap. The kind only carefree children can enjoy without guilt. Stretch out … hands wrapped behind the neck … eyes closed … feeling the soft warmth of the sun …

  Then, suddenly, Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The bedazzled group each awoke with a sudden intake of breath. Again, there was a knock at the eight-foot oak door. One of the men stumbled out of his chair and opened it. Grayer entered with a satisfied smile on his face. All eyes turned to where he had been seated an instant before – his seat was empty – and then back to the figure standing at the door.

  The general’s cigarette, now a stub, was still between his lips. He spat it out, flicking away the ash that had fallen onto his pristine tie. Regaining his composure, he looked up at Grayer. “You hypnotized us,” he said.

  “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “But that still doesn’t make you an alien – many people are hypnotists.”

  “They are, sir. You’re right.”

  Grayer pushed. “But, general, know this: not all humans are as accomplished as I am.” He pushed harder. “I will give you more proof. For example, you need to understand that you feel that you have made a mistake
in judgment. I am truly a gifted alien.”

  The general’s eyes glazed over once again. His lips became numb as if frozen by a dentist’s needle. “You are a gifted alien,” he said. “How could I have been so mistaken?” His eyes never left Grayer, never blinked. Grayer’s smile never wavered. He had a twinkle in his eye.

  “You feel … let me see … that David Bohr is a brilliant research scientist and he should have a big fat raise.”

  The mesmerized general said: “Bohr should have a big raise. He deserves more money. Those poor research guys are treated like slaves.”

  Unamused, Bohr jumped to his feet. “OK, Frank, stop it.”

  Grayer chuckled as he turned toward Bohr. This was fun. “Why not a demonstration that pays dividends, David?” He turned once more toward the general. “General, David needs one of those cool new color TVs for his home. Can that be arranged?”

  “Bohr is an important research scientist. Of course he can have a color television. I have one.”

  “Frank, you’re going too far. This isn’t funny now. Don’t make a mockery of these proceedings.”

  Grayer shrugged his shoulders in mock surrender. “General, you feel tired. Have a nap for a moment.”

  The general slumped in his chair.

  “And now, gentlemen, my pièce de résistance.” Grayer’s aura flared invisibly. He reached out his hand and looked at the Secretary of Defense. “Nice watch, Mr. Secretary.” The metal clasp popped open and the watch flew toward Grayer. He caught it deftly in mid-air. “Telekinesis. Just a parlor trick for now, because I haven’t yet regained my real strength.”

  Everyone around the table spoke in amazement about what they had just experienced. Frank Grayer was someone or something else now, all right.

  General Albright was released from his trance. He wouldn’t believe the story about what had happened until he replayed the security tape of the meeting. Bohr and Grayer left the meeting with the renewed backing of the White House. Funding for the Los Alamos project was increased.